Knight Errant

High Stakes

Captain Wallis looked at her cards, looked at me. Looked at her cards. Looked at my pile. Looked at Rafe. He smiled at her again. Did he have a frigging built-in detector for when people were thinking naughty thoughts about him?

Probably. He sure picked up on mine fast enough.

Focus, Taro.

What do you say? Wallis asked. All or nothing?

Hell. Wouldn't it be just my luck lately if she had a royal flush too?

Why not? I started to shove my pile. Wallis raised her hand. Doubled the size of her pile, made it three times the size of mine. In most games that was illegal, but in Port Royal she could get away with it. If—Captain Kato frowned, but he didn't call her on it. Then I realized—

That won't see my bet, she said. Shit. Shite, damn, feck and fuck, only in this effing port—keep your temper, Taro. Don't hit the captain, Taro. Captain Wallis pointed at Rafe. He would.

Knight Errant

KD Sarge

Published by Turtleduck Press at Smashwords

copyright 2010 KD Sarge

Dedicated to my dear friends

who always encourage me.

To be better. To try harder.

To DOOOO IIIIIITTTT

whatever IIIIIITTTT may be.

But most especially this book is dedicated

to the brilliant and funny, the best teacher ever:

Mr. Michael Eichholtz

Thank you, sir.

You taught me that poetry does not suck

and introduced me to Shakespeare and Stephen King.

Not even those masters

could properly express my gratitude.

Chapter 1

Of the hundreds of lives Eve Marcori saved before, during, and since the war, mine was the most important. If I could have changed that—the importance, not the saving—I would have. Not because I resented owing everything to Eve; she was welcome to all of it. The trouble was staying out of trouble. Eve expected it, demanded it, deserved it, but I wasn't any good at it. Especially when it meant letting a dirt-stupid cheat take my stake.

Ross—the cheat—dealt the last card to each player. Around the stained table some hunched forward, some sat back, arranging their cards as they measured their hands, their stakes, and their opponents. From the front room music thumped, only the bass reaching us to vibrate the table. Ross puffed on his cigar to blow the smoke at me.

In over your head already, little Taro?

I was big enough to—

Not worth a fight, I told myself again. It was my own damned fault. I should have spotted the trick before I joined the game, especially as it was such a transparent one. A finger-cam and a pair of attuned goggles, and every time he dealt, Ross knew every card in every hand. Even when he didn't deal, if he just stretched or grabbed a friend's shoulder, or...

Go frag yourself, I told him, stacking three credits to put in the pot. Fuggit. Easy come, easy go. I'd play my hand, lose my money, and go find a straight game. Or go the hell home. Eve would appreciate that. She'd be glad of anything that didn't end with me in jail, but letting her know early that she wouldn't need to bail me out tonight—

My comm beeped. Ross grinned; he knew it meant I was leaving and his trick was safe. I sighed and tossed my cards, face-down.

Duty calls, fellas. Don't get too happy on my credits.

Yah, Parker muttered, waving a dirty hand while he watched Mick, time for your bedtime story, little Taro. Go get tucked in.

He didn't know how old I was; he was just following Ross' lead. I flipped him off and clapped Ross' shoulder. Those are some damned sexy glasses, big guy. I snagged them off his face. Whooo, snazzy!

Daft bugger, give em—!

Yah, yah. I dropped them on Parker's face, dodged Ross' grab, and ducked out the back door as the fight started behind me. Forced down the laughter and flipped my comm open.

Taro here.

'Bout damn time, Eve's voice grumbled. You in the middle of anything?

Not anymore. I moved down the narrow street as the noise inside grew. Walked wide of the massage parlor when I saw the girls trawling for work. What's up?

Damned doc's enjoying himself, so I'm stuck. Run over to the uni district and pick up some baggage?

Was she asking me? Baggage? Cargo? Do I need a truck?

Baggage. His name's Rafe. Take him to the ship; I'll meet you there soon's I can find an escape route. Sending the address. Marcori out.

I'd have wondered what the hell, but there wasn't any point. Ours not to reason why, as Ben—still the doc to Eve after four kids—was fond of quoting. Though he did manage to get answers out of Eve when none of the rest of us could.

And he managed to drag her places no one else could. I smirked as I hopped aboard a rumbling street-car, put a credit in the slot and hung onto the outer bar while the driver waved me in. Eve hadn't worn a dress to the college function she was stuck at, since the woman named the Bitch by combat-hardened Marines didn't wear a dress ever, but she had been talked out of her silver fatigues and into a dark blue suit that looked great on her and that she'd complained about at every step until she was out of my hearing and probably beyond.

I'd tried to get invited to Ben's alumni party. Not because I liked to dress up; I didn't. Because I'd wanted to smirk at Eve. Despite what she'd do to me later.

The street-car hit the end of its territory; on a broad avenue of shops, I switched to a hover bus, moving up as I moved towards the expensive part of town. Though I'd rather walk than sit inside, I didn't dally when Eve sent me on a job.

Finally I hit the uni district. I'd last been there for my test. I found the address easily, a little homegrown coffee shop with mismatched chairs, just far enough from the campus not to be crowded. Damn Eve, anyway. Ten people inside, and I had no description, no nothing. I'd assumed I was going to a home, or I'd have asked. How was I supposed to know who her baggage was?

I stood by the door a minute, but no one greeted me except the teenager behind the counter. I told her I was meeting someone, and still no one approached me. Blast it.

After another scan of the customers, though, I went over to a curly-headed brunette dressed like a theatrical pirate in white and blue striped pants and a baggy billowy blue shirt. He'd been staring out the window. When I cleared my throat he jumped and looked up, a brilliant smile forming instantly.

Rafe? I asked. The smile widened.

Lucky me, I am, he answered, bouncing to his feet and bowing. Rafael Rylie Ballard, he said. Rafe. At your service. His eyes gave an extra sparkle, adding voltage to one hell of a grin. And you are...?

Taro. Captain Marcori sent me. I didn't tell him I'd looked for the most baggage-like person in the room. Ben had spent years trying to teach me some manners. I'd have to tell him I'd finally used them. Come with me.

Anywhere, he said, and picked up a bag. Another sat on the seat opposite him, so I grabbed it.

Damn. He packed like Eve, fitting every last thing she could in the hold. I took the other bag from him, just for balance, and led the way.

When Eve said baggage, she wasn't kidding.

Cori—excuse me, Captain Marcori—said she was sending her brother, he said, raising one eyebrow as he looked me over. Eve was tall with blue eyes, blue hair, and white skin. I was short and dark, dark, and dark. I looked back at him blankly.

She did, was all I said. Rafe the baggage laughed.

I'm dying to know how she acquired a brother in the last five years, he invited.

She ordered me from the Late-Night Bargain Bonanza.

Ah, an impulse buy. The baggage laughed again and stuck his hands in his pockets to slouch along beside me. But wait, there's more?

Order now and get a baby-sitting attachment at no extra cost! And baggage-handler. Scut-job completer. Not that I minded. I didn't work any harder than Eve did, or Ben, and I adored my three nieces and one nephew.

Baby-sitter? Rafe crowed. "Cori? Has babies?"

Who the hell called her Cori? Ben and I got to call her Eve. Marines called her Bitch, and to Leopard Squadron—what few survived—she was the Ice Queen. Ship's crew who weren't family or Marine called her Captain, and strangers called her Marcori, Captain, or various muttered curse words. Before I could ask—he'd been nosy enough, I figured it was my turn—my comm beeped again. Not attention. Panic. I pushed Rafe's bag at him and dug for my comm. Got a fix and led off towards the bay. Mikey, just blocks away. What the hell had he gotten into that he couldn't get his own mountainous self out of?

What is it? Rafe called from behind. And why did I pack this so heavy?

Stupidity, I answered both questions.

Around a corner I found a spacers' dive—small, dark, and cheap—spilling injured bodies onto the boardwalk. I shoved Rafe's other bag at him. Wait here! I ordered, and dove in the open window shouting, Taro coming in!

Damn Mikey had hit me before.

Heh, the fool said from the bar, lifting a beer to me, nice jump. Bitch'd be proud. A few more groaning bodies lay around him. A glowing sign sparked fitfully behind his head. Whizz sat a few stools away with his head in his hands. Not hurt. Just wishing he could disappear.

You hit panic for ten drunks? I demanded. With Whizz right here?

I'm helping, Mikey explained with a grin. Had t' get the Bitch out of that party 'fore she killed someone. You'll see. She'll thank me.

Not a chance in hell. I pulled out my comm to cancel the alert before the whole damn crew jumped in the window. But I didn't explain to Eve. Mikey could do that himself.

Is it safe to come in now? Rafe asked from the window. Can I use the door?

Gods below, it be the baggage! Mikey charged across the room to snatch Rafe through the window into a back-slapping reunion. How ye doin', lad?

Eve gave nicknames to everyone but me. I wondered just how useless Rafe Ballard could be, to have earned baggage for his.

Let me guess, Rafe said when we came into the third row of owner-operated ships on Greater's freight landing field, Cori's ship is the sparkly-clean one.

That's her! Mikey said. Bless her shiny ass!

"The Pendragon's Dream, I told Rafe. Six decks, ten crew, twice the cargo she should be able to hold, and more than enough engine to move it. Contrary to what her design specs said. Shiny inside and out." Because she did glow in the slanting light. The outside of the Dream didn't shine because of us; Eve hired a service for that, and would till she found a way to get us outside to scrub during h-space transit. The inside shone like the outside, though, and that was all elbow grease and soap and whoever'd pissed her off lately.

It's a lot prettier than the other ships, Rafe said, and he was right. Most freighters were the next thing to bricks. The Dream had class, and aerodynamics.

She's back already, Whizz said. Damn.

When Whizz said it like that, she could only be Eve. Twelve years older than me and more protective than any granny, my sister waited on the ramp of her ship. Her bare arms were folded across her chest; instead of her Marine-issue utilities she'd changed into training clothes. Well, yeah, in preparation for kicking Mikey's—but Rafe precluded whatever she'd meant to do.

Cori! he yelled, and ran up to her, grabbed her and bent her backwards and kissed her.

And she didn't kill him. Didn't even break his legs. As far as I could tell, she kissed him back.

Mikey chuckled and went on inside with Rafe's bags. Whizz picked his chin off his chest and all but tiptoed past. I gave the reunion thirty more seconds before I killed the baggage myself.

At one-point-five seconds to my deadline, Rafe removed his lips and let Eve straighten. Still in his arms, she punched his shoulder.

Damn it, boy, you let that idiot get past me.

Of course, Rafe said with a grin. He'd do the same for me.

Not likely. Eve pushed him back with a grin of her own. All right, back off. I got a partner now.

"Taken? Rafe yelped like I hadn't told him that already. He fell to his knees. No! The flower of womanhood is off the market? Oh woe! Oh—"

Oh shut up. Eve, still grinning, tousled his hair roughly. I'll deal with you in a minute, fluff. She turned the grin on me and pulled something white and flat from her jacket. Kentaro. She held it out. This came for you today.

Oh. Shit. Oh, shit. An envelope, as Ben had said. The more formal the communication, the more tangible it needed to be. So my fate would be printed on a piece of paper. Stuck inside another piece of paper. And sealed, as if anyone with five seconds and fingernails—

Eve's grin flickered as I stared at it. Come on, kid, she said, no point in being scared now. She took my hand and shoved the envelope into it. Bouncing as she did, springing up on her toes and back. Never saw that before.

Come on, kid, she said again. Only one way to get me off your back and you know it.

If there were any way at all to get her off my back...I turned the envelope over. Golden light caught the envelope, glittering off the square seal. UGMT spelled out in fancy foil letters. University of Greater Ma Terr. Sent out by courier, when they could have handed it to Ben at the party. Stupid—

Eve had made fists to keep from snatching the envelope back, but she wouldn't restrain herself for long. I slid a fingernail under the edge of the thick paper and popped it open. Extracted the letter.

"Dear Mr. Kentaro Hibiki-Marcori, we are delighted to inform you that—"

Accepted. I'd been accepted.

Blast. Bollocks. Bloody effing hell.

Failed, huh? Eve asked, reading my face. She snorted, tried to brush it off. To hide her disappointment. She usually had a great game face, but not this time. Oh, well—

No. I handed her the letter. I didn't fail.

Kentaro! Eve the Bitch Marcori, freighter captain, Leopard pilot, and Marine veteran, squealed and snatched me forward to hug me. She'd never done that before.

What is it? Eve's forgotten baggage asked. At least he'd got up from his knees.

Kentaro's going to college, Eve tossed over her shoulder. Early, no less. She beamed at me. Your mom'd be proud, kid. Damned proud. And she reached out and ruffled my hair like she hadn't done in two years.

"Beautiful and brilliant? Rafe asked, smirking at me. Where did you find him, Cori, and are there any more?"

Eve rolled her eyes, then clapped my shoulder. Come on. I'll hand the baggage here over to the brat and we'll go celebrate.

Oh. Gods. Eve, I— think fast! —I have an appointment. Nic Cebelos has a cargo I think would turn us a nice profit.

Right. She knew about the plan. I hadn't had the chance yet to tell her that I'd run into Nic and made the deal already. She shrugged off Rafe's arm that had somehow landed across her shoulders. Stop by when you get back, then. She smirked. Even if it's late. I hear Lily Cebelos is back with her dad.

Gods, yes. And her need to douse herself in glitter had yielded to a fondness for poofy lace. I smiled anyway and walked away.

I wandered back to the city, just walking. Greater was the capital of Greater Ma Terr—real creative with the names, guys—but it was still a college town. Which, for some reason I'd never figured out, meant there was a lot of walking everywhere. Not that I cared about that, but everywhere I went led the same place—their damned shiny university. Each time I saw it in the distance I turned at random, tried not to walk over people, and didn't pay any attention at all to where I was going in the short term.

In the long term—college. When Eve announced the plan I'd laughed. When I took the test I did my best because damn it Eve had a right to my best, but I hadn't thought I did well.

Blast my effing luck. I must have guessed right on every frigging thing I didn't know.

College. Classrooms and lectures. Sitting in one place for hours on end while people talked at me and gods help me if I didn't remember it all to regurgitate back, because it cost a small fortune to send someone to the finest college in the galaxy—The University of Greater Ma Terr: Building the Foundations for a Galactic Future—and I'd rather be chained to a rock like that Prometheus guy than let Eve down like that.

College. Thousands of idiots in one place, and me not supposed to hit any of them. Fools like—like Rafe the baggage. Useless and over-happy, or worse, useless and snobby. Brainless twits from across the Union, not a one of them ever worked a day in their lives, never did anything interesting, and wouldn't know a straight flush if it bit them. And I'd have to live with one. One in my room. A hundred more outside my door. Airheaded wastes of skin who didn't know how to work a butler to get their boots polished, let alone manage their own lives.

College. Reports and essays and dirt-dull literature. Meaningless crap I'd have to pretend to care about so I could come out a well-rounded person. Important stuff neglected so I could jump through all the appropriate hoops to become respectable.

Respectable. Me. Why the hell—

Because Eve wanted it. I shook myself out of the self-pity. Eve had made my mother a promise and she meant to keep it. Respectable wouldn't kill me. She wasn't even sticking me in the four-year program like Donte. No, two years and I'd be done and back on the Dream and everything would be how it had always been, only maybe I'd have grown up enough to be less of a pain in her ass. A better influence on the kids. More of a help with the ship-management headaches.

College. I got my bearings and set off briskly to have a look at the school. My school.

The campus was better maintained than most places I went. Less...assorted. Buildings looked different, but still like they belonged together. The gym was nice. The place smelled good. Due to the planet following the Standard calendar, summer break actually happened in the northern hemisphere's spring, so there were flowers everywhere. And students from across known space. Less dirt than in the city. Narrow towers that didn't block the sun, walkways to protect the grounds. More spacious. And with more plants. It was nice. I'd lived in worse places. Lots worse. It was...nice.

Fuggit. When I was stuck there would be soon enough to learn the place. Now I'd better enjoy my freedom. I headed for the worst section of town. The part where I felt most at home.

Well, one step up from the worst section, per standing orders. Though I should probably just go back to the ship before I got in real trouble. Getting barred from the university before I started would be a thousand times worse than never getting accepted, but gods knew it was the kind of thing I'd do.

As usual, I didn't do what I should.

As slums went, Greater's wasn't so bad. Doors and signs and extras might sag, but the buildings themselves stood mostly straight. Litter hopped around in the variable wind and the scudding clouds hinted at a washing the city could use, but I'd seen ports where I wouldn't step into the alleys without hip boots, so I gave the place points.

I wasn't allowed in Old Greater because Eve had forgotten where I grew up, but that was okay because just outside of Old Greater was one of my favorite places. It held a good mix of spacers, low-lifes, and the targets otherwise known as college students. And those in the slums were mostly like me—there because they wanted to be. Plays and museums and fine restaurants could be fun. Surfing and skydiving and dog-sledding were always good for a rush. But for a real challenge and a good night, give me a low bar and some smart poker players every time.

And on that note—through a window I spotted a familiar face, one I was always glad to see. And he hadn't seen me. I slipped in the door and hit the bar first.

Jimmy Akitari, Executive Officer of the Push Through, jumped when I thumped a beer in front of him, grinned as I threw myself into the chair opposite. Taro Hibiki, he said. Just when I thought I'd die of boredom. I smirked. His dark face held a new scar, making his left eye look a little more slanted. Old Marines never had scars erased. Eve had— Your sister would be pissed to see you down here, he said. I reached for the beer I'd given him; he snatched it.

I'm following orders. I pointed across the street. Old Greater starts over there. Prick.

So it does. He snorted and lifted his beer. What's the plan? Find a bar full of Fleet to insult? Get chased by a howling horde of whores? Do something completely new yet still following the trend of monumentally stupid?

I thought we'd just find a good game and see where it goes from there.

Downhill, if I know you, Akitari grumbled, but he drained his beer and stood. Lead on, you cantankerous bastard.

If you don't like it, why come?

Well, Akitari fingered his nose, flattened in our first liberty together, I'm drunk. And that whore thing turned out okay. He grinned. Three of 'em caught up after you left.

I chuckled and led on.

Seven dives, six games of cards, three dart matches, two fights and a swearing match later, I'd had enough and headed home. In the dark street Akitari meandered next to me, in no shape to even notice our vector. I, on the other hand, could honestly tell Eve I hadn't had a sip of intoxicants. I hadn't set foot in Old Greater, either, and I hadn't laid so much as a finger on a prostitute. If any other member of the Dream crew made that report, Eve would send them back to do liberty right. She might even lead the way. Little brother Kentaro, however, would get a proud grin, maybe a cuff on the shoulder. Lucky me.

Ben said Eve expected more from me because she knew I could deliver. I thought it was because my mom wasn't around to tell her she was over-doing it

Taro! Good Taro. Akitari threw an arm across my shoulders. I staggered a few steps before I adjusted to his weight. Luckily the crowd had thinned since sunset so I didn't step on anyone. You're a good man, Taro Hibiki.

You say that now, but will you still love me tomorrow? The lack of street lamps was dumb if they wanted to control crime, but it did add atmosphere. Something in me liked the dark.

Love you. I do. Gods, was he that drunk? My friend. Get me drunk, get me laid...never fails. Want some fun, follow Taro. He leaned more, getting comfortable. Get me laid. Come on, kid, lets get us some girls.

Some? I turned his face away. Gods, his breath would send a Krechan missionary scurrying. I doubt you've got enough left to handle one. Especially when he didn't notice the girls we'd just passed, standing under their own personal streetlight.

Them's fighting words, son. Akitari tried to straighten; I hauled him back from walking into a parked groundcar. Some rich kid slumming, probably. He'd make it home eventually, both poorer and smarter. "I got 'nuff for—for six girls!"

Their loss, big guy. I gotta go home. Get home and make sure Eve hadn't let that idiot Rafe upset Ben. Get home before all the crazy ideas bouncing around my head got out and blew everything to hell just when I'd actually exceeded Eve's expectations.

Home. Akitari shuddered. Don't know how you stand it. Life with the Bitch...do like her trainees, though. Colvin's a fine lad. Reliable. Boy never loses it.

"Ryan survived six months on the Dream, I said. Nothing on the Push Through is going to faze him."

Heh, that's the truth. Akitari squeezed, pulling me off course. Holding him up was easy. Countering his mass when he moved unexpectedly wasn't. You should come. Bitch is about ready to cut you loose anyway, isn't she? Come work for me.

Jimmy Akitari, you can't handle liberty with me more than twice a year.

No, he said with a shudder. No, no. That'd kill me for sure. I know! He swung an arm; I knocked it away before he clocked me. Rotating duty! I'll assign people to play with you. He chuckled again. Heh, like to see that tight-ass Burke after a night on the town with Taro.

Hells. Now I was an escort service? Sorry, I told him again. Eve is sending me to college.

Akitari threw back his head and roared. I pulled him back on balance before he fell on his ass.

You—! he gasped, swiping his eyes. College! You!

It's not that frakking funny, I growled, dragging him around the first ship on the field. It wasn't effing funny at all. Though Akitari was still chuckling.

College, he said again. Taro Hibiki!

Shut the fuck up, Akitari.

Ooh, I'm tellin' her you swore!

Not if I break your jaw, you won't.

College, he muttered again. "Taro! Never make it. Run away. Make