The captain said, “Well, nonapproved sex is a misdemeanor, but robbery is a felony. Want to change your story?” Tal did not reply at once, and she said, “Still doesn’t explain the fight, boys.”
Peeskill said, “He refused to pay me afterward. I got mad, and he drew a pistol. I tried to defend myself.” The captain walked over to the bed where a knife slash was more than visible, running down the front of the sheets. “So I see. If he had his pistol out, I’m surprised you got so far.”
Peeskill was silent. The captain looked to Tal, who also did not speak. She sighed. “I’m not fond of excitement on my trips.” She walked up to Tal and said to him gently, “You know, I once knew a first lieutenant who had eyes like yours.”
Tal froze. “A lot of people have gray eyes,” he said.
“I wasn’t talking about the color.” She turned and said, “Take Maintenance Worker Peeskill to Medical. Tell Darla I want a full report on his injuries waiting for me when I go on-shift.”
They began helping Peeskill out. The captain turned back to Tal. She lifted his pistol in her hands, inspecting it. “I assume you brought this on board in pieces, but that still doesn’t explain how you got charges for it.”
Tal said nothing. This Captain Nestra felt very dangerous. Why was it always the women?
She sat on the edge of the bed. “Let me put it his way. As far as the Secret Police are concerned, I’m sure they consider you a spy. They consider everybody a spy. Now, regardless of what caused this little brouhaha, I’m gong to have to turn you over to the port police when we reach Baret One. You may or may not be able to talk your way out of this then. Meanwhile, we can put you in the brig, or we can confine you to your quarters. Which is it?”
Tal said, “I charged it off the packs in your storage cabinets.”
“They’re the wrong size for a pistol.”
“I resized one.”
“Great flying elephants,” said the captain, reverting to a childhood oath she hadn’t thought of in sixty years. “You could have blown us all up!”
“It’s perfectly safe if you know what you’re doing.”
“And I thought we had the option of not putting you in the brig. It would be for the safety of everybody if I did.”
“Well, you’ve got the pistol now. And you did imply you wouldn’t if I spoke.”
“So I did.” She rose. “When I consider that first lieutenant I mentioned, I should have known better. Meals will be brought to you here. Do try to stay out of trouble.”
“Captain? This officer you spoke of. What happened to him?”
She paused at the door. “We were married, briefly. He’s dead now.”
The door slid closed behind her. Tal went back to the bed and sat on the slashed sheets. Somehow that last sentence did not surprise him.
This officer would be dead, too, soon after they grounded at Baret One. All it would take would be the medical check.
There was a hissing sound outside as Security sealed the door.
Chapter 13
Iolanthe woke feeling groggy, her body one huge ache, as though all her muscles had been engaged for hours. This alarmed her, distantly, for she was obliged to do something today, either with Adrian or with some party of courtiers; she couldn’t quite recall what, but she was obliged to do something every day.
She forced herself to sit up. No, that wasn’t going to work. She lay back against the pillows and managed, as Prudence came sailing in bearing tea, to make a pitiful sound in her throat.
“Darling!” said Prudence, who set the cup on the table at once and placed one cool, perfectly manicured hand on Iolanthe’s forehead. “No fever, but not quite the thing, are we? Do you want to stay in today?”
“Could I?”
“Poor baby, you say it so disbelievingly. Of course you can, you’re not a prisoner, this isn’t a life sentence ... well, I suppose it is, but even God rested one day a week.” She adjusted Io’s pillows efficiently and said, “Let me go and tell them to change your day-book.”
And she whirled out, sky-blue gown swirling. Io lay back, looking at the ceiling frieze, wondering at the distinct, sharp sting of misery that clung to her today like some too-strong perfume. Why in heaven’s name … suddenly an image flashed through her mind—people, or demons, in masks, one of them with a knife. And a heavy smell of strange incense, and voices … praying?
She understood abruptly what people meant by one’s blood running cold. Goosebumps raised themselves all along the square of skin outside her bodice. Because that image had been, somehow, familiar.
Adrian came in to find her shivering. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” he said, as harmlessly and reassuringly, he trusted, as any well-brought-up bravo from the Opal would have. “I brought you this.”
He offered her a silk doll, much like the ones Will said were in her room on Opal. Dolls were an appropriate gift to take to a sickbed, at least here on the Diamond; he hoped she didn’t think he was making some comment on her maturity.
My, but he’d gotten defensive around Iolanthe, hadn’t he? Checking everything he said and did….
“Thank you, sir.”
“Adrian.”
“Adrian,” she said obediently, making him wonder whether he was browbeating a sick woman. Surely he could work on this “sir” thing later.
“Thank you for not being upset with me,” she said, with a contrite sleepiness. “I’m just so tired … I don’t know why… .”
“That’s quite all right,” he assured her, ignoring the arrows of guilt that were raining down. “Just rest for as long as you like. A day, a week, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re very good to me … considerate… .” She trailed off, her eyes closing
