Chapter 157 · Tee Time

The public shuttle dropped them at Meridian Auxiliary forty-six minutes after they left South Three.

Eli was on his feet before the doors had finished opening.

“Sir—”

“I know.”

He had no idea what the shuttle attendant had been about to say and did not care. Stent was already beside him.

Meridian was smaller than the port they had spent the last week trapped around. No endless freight concourses, no stacked commercial levels, no streams of heavy cargo traffic. Just an older field near the edge of the city, mostly flat and open, with low administrative buildings along one side and rows of commercial berths stretching across weathered duracrete.

The air smelled different here. Less exhaust. More salt. Somewhere beyond the perimeter structures there had to be water. Eli barely noticed.

“Forty-six C.”

Stent had already found the local map. “That way.”

They moved. Walking lasted perhaps twenty seconds.

Then Eli started running. Not properly running; there were too many people, too many baggage carts and service vehicles, too many ground crews with every right to object to two men charging through their workspace. But close enough.

Stent kept pace without comment.

Forty-two.

Forty-three.

A battered passenger shuttle occupied Forty-four. Forty-five held a little cargo tug with half its cowling removed and two mechanics sitting underneath it.

Then the lane opened.

Eli stopped.

Stent almost passed him before stopping too.

Forty-six C.

The Faded Glory sat exactly where the port records had said she would be.

For a second Eli did nothing.

He had spent seven days imagining her in pieces. Hyperdrive removed. Hull cut apart. Transponder stripped out. Their belongings scattered through a workshop somewhere while somebody tried to work out why a freighter that old had been fitted with a class-two drive.

Instead she was simply there.

Old hull. Patched plating. The familiar discoloration around the port-side repairs. One landing strut sitting a fraction lower than the others because they had never managed to make the adjustment hold for more than a few days.

Entirely, unmistakably, infuriatingly intact.

“Oh, thank the stars.”

Beside him, Stent let out a slow breath. It was probably the closest thing Eli was going to get to the same sentiment.

Then Eli was moving again. The ship link indicator on his communicator had already turned white.

LOCAL VESSEL LINK DETECTED.

The unit vibrated in his hand. Connection request.

Eli accepted it immediately. “Tee?”

The response exploded through the speaker. Eli jerked the communicator away from his ear. A furious cascade of electronic shrieks, whistles and clicks continued at a volume sufficient to attract the attention of the mechanics under the neighboring tug.

“Yes,” Eli said. “I know?” Tee plainly disagreed. “We have been looking for you for a week?” The answering shriek was even louder. “I am aware that you knew where you were.” Stent’s mouth twitched. Eli pointed at him. “Don’t.”

“I said nothing.”

Tee continued.

Eli started toward the ship again. “All right. We’re here. Open the ramp.” A sharp chirp. “Yes. Eventually.” Another. “We came as fast as we could once we knew where you were.” Tee’s response suggested that this was an embarrassingly low standard of competence.

The boarding ramp began to lower. Slowly. Normally.

Eli stopped a meter away as the hydraulics engaged. No damaged mechanism. No improvised repair. Nothing visibly wrong beyond a few scratches around the exterior lock housing.

The ramp touched the ground. Tee stood at the top.

For one absurd moment, nobody moved. The little astromech looked exactly as he always did. A little dusty, perhaps, but intact.

His dome snapped toward Eli. Then Stent. Then back to Eli. Sensors swept over both of them. Checking. The movement lasted only a second. Then Tee screamed at them again.

Eli laughed. He could not help it.

Tee came down the ramp at speed, stopped directly in front of them and launched into another furious lecture.

“Yes. We’re here.” Beep. “Eventually, yes.” A sharper whistle. “You waited exactly where we could find you. Very clever.” The next trill was unmistakably pleased with itself. “And you saved the ship.” Louder approval. “And everything aboard.”

Tee’s dome rotated toward Stent. Stent inclined his head. “You did.”

The droid quieted. Only slightly.

Eli crouched beside him and put one hand briefly against the edge of his dome. “You did your part. Sorry ours took seven days.”

Tee gave one much smaller chirp. For perhaps two seconds, that was all. Then he resumed complaining.

Eli straightened. “There he is.”

Tee made an indignant sound and rolled back toward the ramp. Stent followed.

Eli looked once around the berth, at the completely ordinary landing field where their missing ship had apparently spent the better part of a week waiting for them to develop basic investigative competence, then followed them aboard.

His boot hit the familiar deck plating. Something in his chest loosened. The recycled air smelled exactly as it should: machinery, old metal, the faint persistent trace of cooking that no filtration cycle ever completely removed.

Home.

Seven days in a room containing one bed and one shelf had apparently lowered his standards considerably.

Stent stopped just inside the corridor and looked automatically toward the common room. No Ch’eth.

His gaze shifted to Tee. “Where is Ch’eth?” Tee chirped. Stent looked toward the ceiling. “You do not know.” An offended whistle. “You know he is aboard.” Another. “That is not the same thing.”

Eli stepped past them. “If he’s had the run of the ship for a week, I’m not sure I want to know where he is.”

Tee produced a tone that suggested this was an entirely reasonable position.

Stent did not look particularly concerned.

Ch’eth was asleep for most of the day under normal circumstances and possessed an impressive ability to insert himself into places that had not been designed with animals in mind. If Tee knew he was still aboard, there was little point dismantling the ship to find him.

“He will appear,” Stent said.

Eli looked at him. “That confident?”

“Yes.”

Tee beeped agreement.

“Fine. Apparently everyone knows the animal better than I do.”

They checked the sealed Rebel case first. The tamper indicators remained intact. The encryption hardware and authentication modules destined for Stygeon had spent the week exactly where they had left them.

Eli rested his hand briefly against the case. “One disaster at a time.”

Stent had already moved on. They spent the next half hour checking the ship because neither of them was capable of simply accepting that she was fine.

She was.

Engines, hyperdrive, navigation, cargo locks, life support. All intact. Fuel levels showed exactly what they should for the short flight from the previous port. Nobody had forced a locker or opened a panel. The attempted boarding had left a few scratches around the ramp mechanism and a slight deformation near the outer lock housing.

Nothing serious.

Tee followed them throughout the inspection, increasingly pleased with himself.

By the time Stent closed the final access panel, the droid had acquired the unmistakable manner of someone waiting to be formally congratulated.

Stent looked down at him. “You preserved the vessel.” Tee chirped. “Very effectively.” The resulting trill followed them halfway to the galley.

Eli stopped beside the refrigerator. He had forgotten about the groceries. The groceries had not forgotten about him.

He opened the door. Then immediately closed it again.

Stent looked over. “Problem?”

“Possibly.”

Eli opened it a second time. The smell confirmed the diagnosis. A week had not been kind to the fresh provisions.

The harder vegetables had mostly survived. Several roots looked salvageable. A few pieces of fruit might still be usable if he cut away the soft portions.

Everything else had entered various stages of surrender.

The greens were finished. One container of sliced vegetables had developed liquid where no liquid should have been. Something in the back had acquired a texture Eli refused to investigate.

“Oh, kriff.”

Stent came over and looked inside. “That will require disposal.”

“Thank you. I had reached that conclusion.”

Tee chirped behind them.

Eli turned. “No. I’m not blaming you.” Another chirp. “You kept the ship from being stolen. I think you get a temporary exemption from refrigerator management.”

Tee produced a deeply satisfied whistle. Eli began removing containers. “Though if you ever learn to throw out spoiled greens, I won’t object.”

Tee ignored him.

Stent had turned toward the feeding station beside the cargo access hatch. The water dish was half full. The food bowl contained several dark, swollen objects.

Stent crouched. Eli joined him after disposing of something that had once been leafy.

“What are those?”

He recognized them a moment later. The dried worms from the fishing supplies they had picked up on Sembla. Several had been soaked until they were soft. Fragments lay scattered around the dish. Another had been carried halfway toward the wall and abandoned there.

Stent looked at Tee. “You fed him these.” Tee chirped. “For seven days.” Another chirp.

Eli glanced toward the freezer. “Oh.” Stent followed his gaze. “The river grubs.”

“Tee couldn’t get them.”

Tee immediately began explaining. Eli listened for several seconds, then walked to the freezer and tried the recessed manual release. The heavy drawer slid forward. Slowly. With both hands.

Eli looked at Tee. “Right. You definitely weren’t opening that.” The droid gave him an acid whistle. “I wasn’t criticizing the effort.”

Stent picked up one of the softened worms between two fingers. “These are normally supplementary.”

“Treats,” Eli translated.

Stent glanced at him. “They provide nutrition.”

“They’re treats.”

“They are not nutritionally complete.”

“Hence, treats.” Tee beeped. Eli pointed toward him. “You fed the adolescent nothing but treats for a week.” Tee protested immediately. “And water,” Eli conceded. A longer protest. “Yes, regularly. I’m not saying you neglected him.” Another irritated burst. “I’m saying Ch’eth has probably spent seven days believing you are the greatest caretaker in recorded history.”

A faint sound came from somewhere above them. Stent looked up. Eli followed his gaze. Nothing. Then something scraped softly against metal.

A narrow brown head appeared over the upper edge of one of the storage cabinets.

Eli blinked. “There.”

Ch’eth stared down at them. For several seconds he remained perfectly still, nose working. Then recognition arrived. He disappeared. A moment later something small hit the deck behind Stent.

Stent turned. Ch’eth stood between his boots as though he had been there all along. “There you are.” That was apparently sufficient invitation. The kivren planted his forepaws against Stent’s trouser leg and began climbing. Stent caught him halfway up before claws reached somewhere anatomically inconvenient. Ch’eth transferred himself onto Stent’s forearm without resistance and continued upward, long body stretching across his sleeve until he reached the crook of Stent’s neck. Then he pressed himself there.

Stent went very still.

Eli smiled. “I think he missed you.”

“He recognizes me.”

“Of course.”

Ch’eth pushed his nose under Stent’s jaw. Eli’s smile widened.

Stent ignored him and ran one finger carefully along the animal’s back. Then his expression changed. “He looks thinner.”

Eli stepped closer. Now that Ch’eth was out in proper light, he could see it too. The animal did look narrower. Not weak. Not obviously underfed.

Just—

“Longer,” Eli said.

Stent shifted Ch’eth into both hands and examined him more carefully.

Ch’eth objected by twisting around and attempting to regain access to his shoulder. Stent ran his fingers lightly along the ribs and abdomen. “No significant loss of condition.”

“So he grew.”

“Apparently.”

Eli looked again.

Once he knew what he was seeing, the difference was obvious. Ch’eth had not so much become thin as stretched. The compact little body they had first brought aboard had abruptly acquired more spine, more leg and considerably less agreement between the two. He looked like an adolescent animal in the unfortunate stage where every part had received a different set of instructions about growth rates.

“He’s gone lanky.”

Stent frowned slightly. “Lanky.”

“Long and awkward.”

Ch’eth caught one of Stent’s fingers between both forepaws and began gnawing experimentally at the knuckle.

Stent looked at him. “I do not believe awkward is accurate.”

Ch’eth lost his grip and nearly rolled out of his hands. Stent caught him.

Eli raised an eyebrow. Stent did not comment. Tee rolled closer and gave a satisfied series of tones. Stent looked toward him. “You maintained his water.” Chirp. “And fed him what you could access.” Another. “The diet was not ideal, but you were doing your best.” Tee’s dome dipped. “His condition is adequate.” A quieter chirp. “You did well.”

Tee straightened so visibly that Eli almost laughed.

Coming from Stent, that probably counted as a formal commendation.

Ch’eth, meanwhile, had discovered the dried worm in Stent’s fingers and was attempting to take it.

Stent lifted it out of reach. “No.” The kivren stretched after it. “You have had enough of these.” Ch’eth disagreed.

Eli looked at Tee. “See what you’ve done?”

Tee whistled innocently. Stent carried Ch’eth to the freezer and removed several river grubs to thaw. The kivren watched the entire process, then turned his head pointedly toward the container of dried worms.

Eli laughed. “Oh, that’s going to be fun.”

“He will resume a normal diet.”

“Tell him that.”

“I just did.”

Ch’eth tried to climb into Stent’s pocket. Eli decided the argument was ongoing.

There was remarkably little cleaning to do.

Most of the disorder belonged to Ch’eth. A few food scraps. Water marks around the feeding station. A small collection of packing material dragged into a corner behind one of the storage units.

They found another sleeping place beneath a folded thermal cover in the cargo bay, and evidence suggesting that Ch’eth had at some point attempted to create a third inside a crate of empty cargo straps.

Tee regarded every discovery with rigid disapproval.

“You were here,” Eli told him. Tee beeped. “You could have cleaned some of this.”

A long response followed.

Stent, who was extracting a strip of fabric from beneath a rack while Ch’eth sat on his shoulder supervising, translated without looking up. “He says he was occupied.”

“Doing what?” Tee chirped sharply. Eli stared. “Guarding the ship.” An affirmative whistle. “For seven days.” Another whistle. Eli looked around the completely peaceful cargo bay. “Against what?” Tee gave him the electronic equivalent of a deeply offended stare.

Stent’s mouth moved slightly. Eli refrained from laughing as well.

They finished in less than half an hour.

By then the Faded Glory looked almost exactly as she had the evening they had gone out for dinner.

That was perhaps the strangest part. A week of sleeping in a boarding house, Eli working South Three, Stent combing the port for leads, spending almost every credit they had available—

and the ship looked as though they had stepped away for an evening.

Eli stood in the galley, looking at the small collection of food that had survived refrigeration.

A few roots. Two pieces of fruit. Several sealed products.

Everything else had gone into disposal.

“We need groceries.”

“Yes.”

“Again.”

“Yes.”

Ch’eth had finally accepted one thawed river grub. He was eating it on the table beside Stent with less enthusiasm than Eli remembered.

Then Stent opened the dried-worm container to put it away. Ch’eth abandoned the grub immediately.

Eli folded his arms. “Good luck.”

Stent closed the container. Ch’eth stared at it. “You are not receiving another.” The staring continued. Stent ignored him.

Eli checked the local time. Midday. That alone felt luxurious. Markets would actually be open.

No closed offices. No overnight staff. No walking halfway across a spaceport searching for food because they had chosen the cheapest possible berth and discovered that cheap meant a very long distance from civilization.

He looked toward Stent. “We should move the ship.”

“Yes.”

Neither spoke for a moment.

Then Eli started smiling.

Stent noticed. “No.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You are thinking about the previous berth.”

“I was thinking we could save money.”

“No.”

Eli laughed. “All right. Not the cheapest one.”

“Not the second cheapest one either.”

“That seems unnecessarily restrictive.”

“The previous economy cost us seven days.”

“That is not a statistically meaningful sample.”

Stent looked at him.

Eli surrendered. “Fine. Somewhere respectable.”

“Moderately respectable.”

“I’m not paying luxury rates because Tee developed opinions about parking.”

Tee beeped from the corridor. “You started this.”

Another indignant sound.

They found a berth closer to the main commercial district. Not expensive, merely not suspiciously cheap. It had staffed access, normal ground traffic and enough neighboring vessels that anyone approaching the Faded Glory would have to make a considerable effort not to be noticed.

Eli confirmed the rate. “It hurts.”

“It is affordable.”

“Those are different statements.”

He looked at the booking again. “We are staying there for one or two hours.”

“Yes.”

They lifted off shortly afterward.

Tee insisted on remaining connected to the flight systems throughout the transfer.

Stent let him. He had earned that much.

They bought provisions first.

Not extravagantly, but no longer with the careful arithmetic of the previous week.

Eli had been paid for the South Three shifts already processed, minus the boarding-house account. Stent had spent all of their original twenty credits on information, transport, food and the accumulated costs of finding the ship.

The final shift at South Three had not been paid. Eli had no intention of returning to ask for it. Corlan could keep the credits.

More importantly, they had access to their actual accounts again. After seven days of counting coins, that felt almost indecent.

They bought vegetables, fruit, bread, protein, greens and enough basic staples to replace what had died in the refrigerator.

Stent added a packet of sweets. Eli saw him do it. Neither commented. They were learning.

By the time everything had been delivered back to the Faded Glory, Ch’eth had rediscovered several of his preferred hiding places and required retrieval before they could leave again.

Stent found him behind the common-room seating.

Getting him into the enclosure proved more difficult. Ch’eth twisted sideways the moment Stent tried to lower him inside, hooked both forepaws over the edge and immediately attempted to climb back up his wrist. “No.” The kivren wriggled harder. Stent detached one paw. Then the other. Ch’eth turned nearly in half and tried again.

Eli watched from the corridor. “Going well?”

“Perfectly.”

Stent finally got him inside and closed the enclosure. Ch’eth pressed himself against the feeding hatch in protest. Stent considered him.

Then dropped two dried worms through it. The protest ended instantly.

Eli looked at him.

Stent straightened. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have an expression.”

“I was admiring your commitment to restoring a nutritionally balanced diet.”

“That was situational.”

“Of course.”

Ch’eth had already eaten the first worm and was searching for the second.

Tee chirped approvingly.

Stent looked toward the droid. “This remains partly your fault.”

Tee did not appear troubled.

The Traders’ Lounge looked completely different in daylight.

Eli almost resented it.

For most of the week, he had known the place under artificial evening lighting, half-empty tables, tired crews and Marten polishing the same section of counter while pretending not to listen to everyone’s problems.

Now sunlight came through the upper windows. Several tables were occupied by crews eating lunch. Someone had opened one of the wall panels to service the ventilation system.

It looked ordinary.

As if nothing important had ever happened there.

They had barely crossed the entrance when Eli spotted Davin approaching from the opposite concourse with a drink in one hand and his Traders’ Office credential already clipped to his jacket.

Davin saw them. Then slowed. His eyes went first to Eli. Then Stent. Then, automatically, toward the lounge behind them. “You two look considerably less homeless.”

Eli smiled. “Good afternoon to you too.”

Davin stopped in front of them. “You found somewhere better to sleep?”

“Much better.”

Something in Eli’s expression must have given it away. Davin stared at him. “No.”

Eli’s smile widened. “Yes.”

“You found it?”

“We found her.”

Davin stopped completely. “Where?”

“Meridian Auxiliary.”

“The secondary field?”

“Yes.”

“The one forty minutes away?”

“Forty-six by public shuttle.”

Davin stared at both of them. “How the hell did it get there?”

Eli smiled. “Tee.” Davin waited. “Our astromech.”

There was a pause. “Your R2 unit.”

“Yes.”

“He flew it?”

“The thieves never got control of the ship. Tee launched, lost them and parked at Meridian.”

Davin continued staring. Then he started laughing. Not loudly. But genuinely.

Eli joined him. After seven days, somebody else finding the entire situation as ridiculous as he did was unexpectedly satisfying.

Davin shook his head. “I’m going to have to close the incident.”

“That would be helpful.”

“And tell Security the stolen ship was never stolen.”

“Attempted theft,” Stent corrected.

Davin looked at him. “Thank you. That will make the report much less embarrassing.”

“It should.”

Davin checked the time and swore under his breath. “I’m supposed to start in two minutes.”

“You can be late.”

“Tiri will notice.”

“So did Corlan.”

That caught him. “You quit?”

“Yes.”

Davin glanced instinctively in the direction of South Three, though there were several buildings between them and the freight operation.

“What did Corlan do?”

“Failed to stop me.”

“That bad?”

Eli thought of the flashing boards. The unfinished work. Corlan asking for another hour as though hours were something South Three generated at will. “Pretty much.”

Davin considered that. Then nodded. “Fair.” He started toward the office, stopped, then turned back. “You still at the boarding house?”

“No. We’ll settle everything today.”

“Good.” Another step. Then he looked at Eli. “And Figg?” Eli waited. Davin smiled faintly. “Glad you found her.”

Eli’s answer came easily. “So am I.”

Davin disappeared into the Traders’ Office.

Eli watched him go.

Beside him, Stent glanced toward the lounge. “We should inform Marten.”

“Yes.”

“And settle the account.”

“Yes!” Eli looked toward the familiar counter. “And possibly buy Marten something.”

“We have limited funds.”

“He gave us tea.”

“He was going to discard it.”

“That is not the point.”

Stent followed him inside.

For once, they were returning to the Traders’ Lounge with good news.

Marten was behind the counter. He looked up, saw them, then looked past them as though expecting the absence of a ship to follow them through the door.

Eli leaned against the counter. “We found her.”

Marten stopped polishing the glass in his hand.

“The ship?”

“The ship.”

“Intact?”

“Almost offensively so.”

Marten considered that for a moment, then nodded.

“Good.”

That was all.

Coming from Marten, it felt sufficient.

Eli ordered caff anyway.

They stepped back into the concourse some time later, finally heading toward the Faded Glory.

Eli had taken perhaps six steps when he stopped.

Stent looked back. “What?”

“The shop.” Stent waited. “Keren’s Exchange. The place they told us about that first night.”

Recognition crossed Stent’s face immediately. “I went there.”

Eli stared at him. “You did?”

“On the third day.”

“And?”

“They had no Lysatran quince paste.”

Eli’s expression fell. “None?”

“None.”

“Did they ever have it?”

“Yes. Not recently.”

“Of course.”

Stent started walking again.

Eli caught up beside him. “You could have told me.”

“You were working twelve-hour shifts and we had more important matters at hand.”

“That is not a reason.”

“It did not change our situation.”

Eli considered that. Unfortunately, it was true. “Still. I had been saving that shop in my head.”

“That seems inefficient.”

“Hope is often inefficient.”

Stent glanced at him. “We still need to continue Coreward. And deliver the Stygeon cargo first.”

“I know.”

Eli looked once toward the commercial level where Keren’s Exchange sat somewhere among the shops. Recovered ship. Recovered droid. Ch’eth alive, growing and thoroughly spoiled. Still no quince.

“The first one is more important,” Stent said.

“Considerably.”

They kept walking.

At least this time, when they left the port, they would be leaving in their own ship.