Young Rissa by F.M. Busby Page A

 
    â€œThat, I never do.” I would not give you the satisfaction.  
    â€œChira does. She does it real good — don’t you, Chira?”  
    The girl pouted. “I do better than her. Anytime, Tregare.”  
    â€œYeah? Well, not right now. Go get us all something to eat.”  
    â€œ You , sure, Tregare. She can get her own.”  
    Even tired, he moved like a cat. His slap knocked Chira skidding. “You forgetting how to take orders?” He stalked toward her.  
    Rissa leaped and caught his arm. “No, Tregare! She is upset, that is all. Wait, Chira — I will clothe myself and come with you, to help. We must share these chores; I may as well start learning.”  
    The man looked at her. “Ms. High-and-Mighty Paying Passenger wants to help with the scutwork?”  
    â€œIf you call it scutwork to accommodate one another in these small matters — then yes.”  
    â€œOh, get the hell out of here. And hurry it up — I’m hungry.”  
    She returned his gaze. “It would serve you right if we ate in the galley and then brought your food. Cold.”  
    His mouth began a snarl — then he laughed. “Talk all you want, Obrigo. You know better than to do it.”  
    Dinner relaxed them all. Afterward, over wine, Tregare became talkative. “What all did Osallin tell you about me?”  
    Rissa shrugged. “What is there to tell? So far as we know, you command the only armed ship ever to Escape. It is said that sometimes you use your armaments as threat to bilk your suppliers, groundside. And that your command came not as consequence of Escape, but afterward. And — ”  
    He interrupted. “That old mutiny story, is it? Well, it wasn’t how you think.”  
    Her brows raised. “So? Then how was it, Tregare?”  
    He drained his glass, poured another and leaned forward. His face showed strain. “Obrigo? You know how ships Escape? You risk death, is how. People — officers, especially — who want out of UET — they talk, feel each other out. You think you have enough on the right side, you make your move. . . .”  
    His eyes narrowed; Rissa saw that they looked beyond her. Tregare said, “It’s better if the captain’s with you, but old Rigueres was UET all the way — not a chance. So Monteffial — he was First Hat, I was Third — he cut Rigueres’ throat and we had the ship. But we’d made some bad guesses; there were more against us than we thought. And Farnsworth — Second Hat — he was playing double agent, pretending he was with us and planning to hang us with UET.  
    â€œHe had Monteffial killed — didn’t have the guts to do it himself — got most of our people locked up and set course for Earth. Where he missed — “ Now Tregare laughed. “Where he missed, was with me. I’d gone outside in a power suit to fix a viewscreen input — communications was my specialty — and hadn’t logged the jaunt.  
    â€œSo Farnsworth didn’t know I was out, didn’t know Deverel was covering for me at the airlock, and told me the scoop when I came in. So I didn’t take off the power suit, was all. I walked right through Farnsworth’s goons with their knives and such, and caught him and broke his neck. And turned our people loose. The rest — the UET holdouts — went outside without suits. And that’s your mutiny. Not against our Escape command — against a UET takeover. And I wrecked the suit doing it.”  
    His face was flushed. He drained his glass and tapped it on the table. Chira refilled it.  
    â€œThat is most interesting, Tregare. It explains a great deal.”  
    â€œLike what?”  
    â€œSuch as — well, an experience of that sort must not be easy to live with. I will remember and make allowances.”  
    His