FOUR
Last night, they’d been tired but willing, then more willing than tired and it had become a bold and joyous sharing of pleasure, ’til they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, waking again to another sharing, another nap, another waking—
And the start of Jethri’s shift.
Freza took first shower, while Jethri arranged for breakfast to be delivered by the time he was showered and mostly dressed. The chime sounded just as he finished with his cuffs, and Kel Bin eyl’Fassa announced, “I bring the tray, Trader.”
It had been a festive tray, with a pot of Gentle Rising tea, plates of Kel Bin’s special chernubia, vegetable muffins, cheeses, biscuits, and jam.
If they lingered over such a meal in the afterglow of pleasure, who could blame them? But it was Freza who sighed as she put her empty cup down.
“Duty-time, Trader.”
“So soon?” he asked, though he knew she was right.
“Always that way, ain’t it?” She leaned in to kiss his cheek before rising.
“Let me get my coat, and I’ll walk you over to Balrog,” he said, moving to the closet.
The comm pinged just as he was finishing up with the buttons, and it was Freza’s quiet, “Jeth,” that brought his head around.
The urgent light was lit.
“I’ll be a second,” he told Freza, crossing the room, and tapping up the comm.
The crest of the Liaden Traders Guild flashed on to the screen. Below, was a letter, very brief, signed by the “Review Board.”
Jethri blinked.
“Bad news?” Freza asked.
He turned to look at her.
“Not…exactly,” he said. “I sorta expected it—in fact, I was told to expect it! I just didn’t expect it so…soon.”
“If you don’t mind sharing, what’s ‘it’?”
“Denial of my sponsor’s application to elevate my standing in the guild from full trader to master trader,” Jethri said. He raised his hand, showing her the ring Master pin’Aker had made for him.
“I’m a full trader in the Liaden Trade Guild, like I wrote you. This—my sponsor, Master pin’Aker—he’s got it in his head that I’ll be a dandy master trader. So, he applied to the guild on my behalf. And they just refused the application.”
Freza put her hand on his arm.
“Jeth, I’m sorry.”
“No—no. Nothing to be sorry about. Way it was explained to me was that everybody gets rejected on the first application.” He gave her a brief smile. “In fact, I was told not to let the rejection bother me, to tend my bidness while Master pin’Aker tends his. It’s only—”
He hesitated, frowning at the letter; at the date of the letter.
“Only?” Freza prompted.
“It’s awful fast,” he said. “When he said he was going to propose me for master after I was established as a trader, I was thinking more on the order of a couple years, not a couple weeks.”
He reached to the screen, filed the letter with a couple of quick finger-taps, and crossed the room to get his coat.
“What happens now?” Freza asked.
“Now?” He shrugged. “Nothing. Eventually, there’ll be a test. That’s standard procedure, too. The guild sets the time and place; my job is to appear. If I don’t appear, I fail by default. If I do appear—then I’ll find out what the test is.”
“That likely to happen—soon?” Freza asked. Jethri shook his head.
“I don’t think so. It’s in their favor to stall, and put it out as far as they can, within the rules. How long d’you think it’d take TerraTrade to put together something like that? Nothing to worry our schedule here, for sure.”
Freza smiled—and jumped when the comm chimed.
“My pardons, Trader, but Cousin Chiv is here to escort Cousin Freza to Balrog.”
Freza muttered something that sounded like, “Mud,” before raising her voice for Bry Sen’s hearing.
“Tell Cousin Chiv I’m on my way, please, Pilot.”
She looked up at him.
“Jeth—”
“I know,” he soothed, and offered his arm.
“Let me escort you down to Cousin Chiv.”
Chiv was just settling in to Genchi’s lounge when they arrived, glowing, maybe. At least Jethri felt like he was glowing, and Freza was as bright as a new ring.
He looked up, and something complicated happened to his face, but it ended up in a smile, and Jethri couldn’t blame the man for being dazzled.
“Cousins,” he said, raising the glass of juice he’d accepted as Genchi’s hospitality.
“What’s the news?” Jethri asked.
“Our section’s full, Loopers and small haulers. Welcome signs’re lighting up, and we’re seeing some casual bidness being done. There’s a crowd o’station dwellers—security, catering, techs by the whole-pod. Decking’s up in a few places. Guess they’re not used to this section being quite so full. Putting a strain on the systems.”
He paused and drank off his juice, then rose, holding a sealed box out to Jethri.
“To keep his hand in, Trader, our Brabham made you some of these maize buttons!”
The box was warm, the contents warmer, and Jethri longed to be able to return to his room and share them with Freza. Still—maize buttons. Jethri smiled. Brabham hadn’t forgotten.
“Also sent this along.”
Chiv offered a spare handful of hardcopy. Jethri flipped pages, seeing lists of names, lists of topics, times blocked in—meetings, he realized. When Freza’d said they were going to be sharing info, he hadn’t realized the extent of the info, nor how many needed to be brought up to date on happenings and plans.
If he and Freza hadn’t already made their plans to spend the night together again, he might have wilted on the spot.
“Time to get this part started, so we can get the next part done.” Freza leaned over to kiss his cheek. “There’s a jitney on the way. I gotta grab some things off Balrog, then we can all of us go down to the suite together.”
She gave a playful tug on his hair. “I like this,” she said, which she’d also said last night. “You keep it nice and long.”
Ears burning, he walked her and Chiv to the hatch and saw them to the end of the dock.
Then, he returned to the lounge and picked up the pile of hardcopy, going over it more carefully.
“I’m going to have to hire a co-trader just to keep me moving,” he said to the empty air.
He turned just as Bry Sen arrived, holding a pair of small comms.
“Trader, there you are; I had been concerned that you had left us already. Here.”
He handed Jethri one of the units.
“This comm, with the blue button, you see—this comm interfaces with local station systems.”
“This comm—yellow button—has been upgraded. It is not dependent on station systems and will be available to you, should those systems become overloaded, or fail. Codes are loaded for Genchi, for Balrog, for myself, and Captain sea’Kera.”
“Thank you,” Jethri said, taking the comms and slipping them onto his belt.
A light flashed at the edge of his vision, and he looked to the screen.
“There’s the jitney,” he said, and glanced at Bry Sen again.
“By the looks of things—” he waved the hardcopy. “I’ll be back late.”
“Your crew anticipates your return with delight,” Bry Sen assured him, in dulcet Liaden.
Jethri laughed and headed for the hatch.