Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [46]
“None of that.” She tousled his smoky gray hair and led him inside for a bit of privacy. “And the job’s completely legitimate.”
“That’ll be a switch,” BeBob said.
“For you, maybe. I’ve always been a respectable businesswoman.”
“You’ve always known when to turn a blind eye.”
“They go hand in hand, BeBob.” She sealed the door of his dwelling, then sniffed. “Who does your cooking? Smells like layer upon layer of prepackaged meals. Shame on you.”
“Well, I’ve grown rather fond of spampax. It’s amazing what a little hot sauce can do to doctor it up.” She made a face so outrageous that BeBob burst out laughing. Without asking, he opened a bottle of red wine for the two of them.
“That better be one of your ‘special occasion’ bottles,” she said. “Because this certainly qualifies.”
“Rlinda, it’s a special occasion anytime you come to visit me.”
“Especially when I come offering a nice job.”
“Or sex.” BeBob handed her a glass of wine and took a smaller one for himself.
Rlinda swirled it around, took a long sip. “Your taste in wine was never anything I had arguments with, BeBob.”
“One of the few things.”
She playfully swatted the back of his head. “Thanks to my work with Davlin Lotze, we’ve opened access to the whole new transportal network. The Hansa has enough lawyers and waivers that I’ll never get any of the patent profits, but the Chairman showed his gratitude in other ways. I’ve got a bottomless supply of ekti and a lucrative delivery contract as part of the new Klikiss colonization initiative. You want a piece of that?”
“I thought transportals didn’t require ekti. Isn’t that the whole point?”
“Transportals are perfect for shipping people and small objects, but the Hansa still needs ships like the Curiosity—and the Blind Faith—to haul heavy equipment and large components that can’t be broken down to fit through a transportal frame. And also to shuttle groups of eager settlers from existing colonies to the nearest Klikiss hub with an active transportal.”
“Ah, typical distribution bottlenecks.”
BeBob took the chair opposite from the sofa where she sat, but when Rlinda gave him a quick and disbelieving glance, he quickly changed his place to snuggle beside her. “That’s better,” she said.
“Don’t forget, I’m technically AWOL, Rlinda. I can’t just fly around doing Hansa business. Somebody’s bound to notice.”
“I’ve already taken care of the problem, BeBob.”
When Rlinda first received her assignment, she had asked for a face-to-face meeting with Chairman Wenceslas. Even after discovering the transportal network, she found it difficult to get through all the bureaucratic roadblocks.
Her old acquaintance Sarein had provided the key, marching Rlinda directly to the upper levels of the Hansa HQ and bypassing security. The ambitious young daughter of Theroc was apparently a frequent visitor to the Chairman’s private offices and chambers. Good for you, girl, Rlinda thought. A young woman from a backwater planet had to do whatever was necessary to compete with those who started off with more political advantages and connections.
When she and Sarein finally stood in front of his desk, Chairman Wenceslas, though distracted, knew how Rlinda could help him. He looked up at her with a half-amused stare and a guarded expression. “If you expect outrageous concessions like last time, Ms. Kett, you’ll be disappointed. You are not alone among pilots who are anxious to start flying again. I’ll have volunteers lined up from here to Ganymede.”
“Hmm, and some of them might even be competent. You know I am. Besides, don’t you owe me a debt of gratitude?”
“I didn’t realize you were so old-fashioned.”
“It’s one of my flaws. But I won’t demand anything out of line. I just want to bring in one of my former pilots. He’s a man I’d rather not do without.”
Actually there had been many times—especially when they were married—that she very much had wanted to do without Branson Roberts. But that was all water under the bridge, and she intended to include