The Captain's Daughter

  “Because it would be worth it just so we could tell our children how we met.”

  She laughed incredulously. “You are really quite a unique individual. You seem to take all of this,” and she gestured vaguely, “this . . . strangeness . . . very much in stride.”

  It helps that I’ve seen through the deception, he thought, but he simply said, “In my line of work . . . one is not easily rattled.”

  “Indeed. Let’s discuss lines of work . . . someplace where we won’t be shot at.”

  They got to their feet, dusted themselves off, but at the same time never quite took their eyes off each other. She continued to stare at him as if not quite believing that he was there.

  Sulu, for his part, was amazed. Obviously this was not something that Chekov had simply thrown together. This woman and the others . . . they were pros. Pros up and down the line. It would have been so easy for him to be sucked into the exquisite unreality of it all.

  Fortunately enough, he was far too smart for that.

  Chapter Eight

  CHEKOV WAS BEGINNING to get worried.

  It was now getting on evening, and Sulu had been a no-show. Perhaps there had been some sort of screwup. Some sort of miscommunication that had resulted in Sulu waiting for him at another restaurant. Chekov wished that they had their Enterprise communicators with them. Then it would simply be a matter of flipping his open and asking Sulu where the devil he was.

  But they didn’t have their communicators, so clearly that wasn’t an option.

  He stepped out onto the veranda and drummed apprehensively on the railing. He saw tourists going about their business, the various inhabitants into their usual routines. For the first time the artificiality of it all crept through to him. None of it mattered. None of it was real. What was real was the fact that his friend was absent, and he had absolutely no idea why.

  Well, enough was enough. It was time to contact the authorities. Chekov had been reluctant to, for fear of looking like a total fool if he sounded an alert and it only turned out that Sulu was out somewhere having a good time. But he saw no choice at this point.

  At that moment, the comm screen inset into the wall (one of the few allowances made in the room for modern conveniences) bleeped at him. Chekov quickly went to it and toggled the On Line switch.

  Sulu’s smiling face appeared on the screen.

  “I vas vondering!” said Chekov in exasperation.

  “Oh . . . I just bet you were,” Sulu replied.

  It seemed an odd response for a man who had vanished for the better part of a day.

  “I’m on to you, Chekov,” Sulu continued. “Admit it.”

  Chekov blinked. On to him? On to what? Did he mean that he knew Chekov had been concerned about his absence? Well, of course, that was self-evident. “I admit it freely,” Chekov said, trying not to look as confused as he felt.

  “I knew it,” said Sulu triumphantly. He leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I knew you wanted to sell me on this place . . . but I never thought you’d go to all this trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” Chekov said reasonably.

  “And she is quite remarkable.”

  Again, Chekov blinked. “She is?”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” said Sulu. “I should have had faith in your judgment.”

  “That’s always a good thing to have,” Chekov nodded, still feeling as if he were in the midst of another conversation entirely. One thing was clear: Sulu had found female companionship. It was, of course, a possibility that they had both discussed before arrival, and each had mutually agreed to give the other as much room as required to do justice to that situation. “Uhm, Sulu . . . where are you now?”

  “Her place,” said Sulu. He lowered his voice still further. “She’s registered here under an assumed name. I could have guessed that, I suppose.”

  “I suppose,” agreed Chekov. “Do you vish to stay vith her for a bit?”

  Sulu looked slightly guilty. “It . . . would be pleasant. If that’s all right with you.”

  “Pffff,” Chekov made a dismissive noise. “Vatever you vish. You are . . . sure you’re all right?”

  “Well, there were some close calls in there. But that’s part of what makes it all so interesting. After all, isn’t that what the captain once said? ‘Risk is our business.‣ I’ll be in touch. And Chekov . . . thanks again.”

  “You’re velcome,” he said grandly. “No thanks necessary.”

  The picture blinked out, leaving Chekov grinning. Indeed, no thanks had been necessary. Sulu, that lucky dog, had found a fetching companion. He hardly needed Chekov’s blessing or permission to pursue her.

  He, Chekov, should be so lucky.

  * * *

  Ling Sui sat on a rattan chair, regarding Sulu in amazement as he looked around the room. It was small and dark, because Ling had the shades drawn.

  “We’ll be safe here,” she said, never taking her eyes off him. Then she gestured for him to come over, which he did. One of her long legs was crossed casually over the other. She pointed downward. “Kneel,” she said.

  He eyed her with level gaze.

  “Stand,” he replied.

  She smiled in amusement. “All right,” she said, and rose, propping herself up on one knee. “Turn around, at least.” From the folds of her garments she had pulled a small device that looked somewhat like a small electronic tuning fork.

  He did so, wondering what was going on. He felt her brush the edge of the tuning fork along the back of his shirt. It gave off a faint humming noise. Then, when she reached a point just around the area of his right shoulder blade, the noise jumped slightly. Apparently it had located whatever it was she was looking for. “Hold still, please,” she said. “Okay. Got it.”

  “Got what?” he asked, turning to face her. “The secret formula? The hush-hush plans?”

  “Something like that.”

  “On some sort of microminiature data chip.”

  “Good guess.”

  “May I ask what it was doing on my back?”

  She seemed to be weighing the option of bald-facedly lying to him before dismissing the idea. “I put it there,” she said matter-of-factly. “When I bumped into you in the street. I knew they were after me, and in the event they caught up with me, I didn’t want to be in possession of it. You should have been in no danger at all. And I knew I could always use this,” and she held up the tuning-fork device again, “to track you down and retrieve it. I didn’t expect you to try and come riding to my rescue.”

  “I saw those goons chasing you,” said Sulu at his most gallant. “I’m not the type to just stand aside and let a woman be harassed.”

  “I know that now,” she informed him. She tossed her head slightly to keep her long hair out of her face. She’d done it once or twice since they’d first gotten to the room. Obviously it was a bit of a nervous habit, although he had no idea what she had to be nervous about. She was an absolutely brilliant actress, virtually radiating charisma. She had down cold the part of the daring mysterious heroine. She was exciting and vibrant . . . everything that one could wish for in a mystery woman. Sulu felt himself falling in love with her already . . . except it probably wasn’t really a matter of being in love with her, but rather with what she represented. Adventure. Intrigue. When involved with a female like this, any second could herald a new escapade. Just like involvement with another female . . . one named Enterprise.

  “I know you, don’t I,” she said after a long moment. “The name was familiar. Hikaru Sulu. From Starfleet, correct?”

  He wasn’t surprised, of course. Chekov would have given her all the information she needed. Still, he was interested in the rationalization. “That’s right. May I ask how—?”

  “Oh, there are some people whose careers I’ve been following somewhat closely. A bit of a hobby of mine. Comes from my own abortive attempt at a career in Starfleet.”

  “You?” he said w
ith raised eyebrow. “What happened?”

  “It . . . wasn’t for me. I’m not terribly good at following orders. Too much of an independent thinker.” She paused and then added, with amusement, “No offense meant.”

  “None taken.” He allowed himself to preen slightly. “If you have any questions about Starfleet . . . about the Enterprise . . . I’d be happy to . . .”

  “Well, actually, I do.”

  He stood with folded arms, waiting.

  With an expression of intense curiosity, she leaned forward and asked, “What’s Captain Kirk really like?”

  Sulu felt like a deflated balloon. You told her to say that, didn’t you, Chekov. I’ll get you for that one, my friend.

  “Yes, well,” and he cleared his throat. “He’s . . . well, what can you say about someone in whom you’d trust your life implicitly? What higher compliment can you give someone than that? If I ever get command of a starship, and I’m half the commander that James Kirk is . . . I’ll be satisfied.”

  She studied him appraisingly. “I don’t believe that,” she said flatly, challenge in her eyes. “That would be ‘settling.‣ I can’t see you as being the type of man who would settle for anything.”

  “And you? What type of woman are you?”

  “Do you really want to know?” she asked challengingly.

  He thought about it a moment, and then shook his head. “No. What sort of mystery woman would you be if I knew too much about you? All that matters is where we go from here, and what you owe me.”

  Her gaze was steel. “You risked your life, and it was a stupid thing to do. And I had to risk my life to bail you out. If you hadn’t decided to be heroic, neither of us would have been in that fix. So what, precisely, do I owe you?”

  He stepped forward, “invading” her personal space. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back up so much as a millimeter. Her green eyes glittered, reminding Sulu of nothing so much as a cat.

  “Fifty percent,” he said. “We’re partners now.”

  It was hard for him to read precisely what was going through her mind: Anger? Astonishment? Amusement? A tension, caused by . . . what?

  “What did you say?” she asked in slow, measured tones.

  Slowly he brought his lips to her right ear and whispered, “I said . . . we’re partners now.”

  She pirouetted away from him with a grace that indicated she had dancer’s legs. With undisguised amazement she said, “May I ask how you figure that?”

  “Simple. As of this point, this little operation of yours continues purely at my whim. I could shut the whole thing down with one well-placed call. But I’m not going to do that . . . provided I’m a partner.”

  “Who do you think you are, Sulu? You’re Starfleet, not a law-enforcement official.”

  “True enough,” replied Sulu. “But I have reason to believe that the property you’re dealing in has interplanetary, even galactic, ramifications. That makes it Starfleet business.”

  “And what reason do you have to believe that?”

  “I’m suspicious by nature. That’s good enough.”

  Her mouth was so thin as to be almost invisible. And yet those eyes, those gorgeous green eyes, seemed more intrigued than angry.

  “Fifty percent, Ling Sui,” he said. “That’s a considerable bargain. An alliance with a Starfleet officer. Certainly that would be fairly handy in your line of business . . . that is, whatever business you might be involved with at any given time.”

  “It would,” she admitted. She gave the matter some consideration, playing her “part” to the hilt. “Twenty percent,” she said finally.

  “You wish to insult me now, is that it? Fifty percent.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Sixty.”

  She blinked in surprise. “It’s not quite supposed to work that way, Sulu. I go higher, you go lower, and we meet somewhere in between. If I, for example, offer forty, you should counter with . . .”

  “Seventy,” he said with absolute deadpan.

  She let out a long sigh. “All right. Fifty.”

  He scratched the underside of his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, all right,” he said finally. “You talked me into fifty.”

  “Which is where you started.”

  “Is it?” he said, looking at her with feigned innocence.

  She shook her head. “Of course, I still have to deal with one problem. Namely: I have no reason to trust you.”

  “I risked my life to help a woman I didn’t even know. Just imagine what I can do when I actually have personal involvement.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. “Ahh. And just how ‘personal‣ did you envision our association getting?”

  “My dear woman,” he said, drawing himself up. “I am, in every respect, a gentleman.”

  “Is that so?” she asked. She ran a finger lazily along the line of his jaw, and he felt a sensation as if she were running a live wire across his skin. “Pity. But then, I knew you had to have a drawback somewhere.”

  Chapter Nine

  THE SHADOWS were growing long in the southwest corner of the Thieves Quarter. There were not too many people on the streets, what with most folks hustling to dinner appointments. Besides which, the Thieves Quarter was not the most crowded of areas even during the busiest times. It was, after all, where only the most adventurous of folks chose to go. Anything and everything could happen in the Thieves Quarter, and even though it was all a show, it was most definitely not for the faint of heart.

  Sulu and Ling Sui stuck to the shadows, which was easy since they were fairly copious. Ling Sui craned her neck, peering around a corner and then ducking back.

  “Any sign of your contact man?” asked Sulu.

  “Not yet.”

  “Is he dependable?”

  “I’ve worked with him before. His name is Kelles. His strength is, he’s good. His weakness is, he knows he’s good.”

  “And he’s your buyer?”

  “Of course not. He’s representing them.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  She glanced at him. “My, you’re full of questions. Will I work with him? Yes. We’ll be making the exchange right here. I give him the information, and the credit transfer will be made immediately thereafter.

  “But will I trust him? No, of course not. I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Not even me?” asked Sulu with a mock look of hurt on his face.

  But Ling Sui did not smile. “Trust you?” she said flatly. “You? A Starfleet officer out to turn a profit? Allying himself with some strange woman dealing in some sort of nefarious who-knows-what? Sulu . . . let’s be honest with one another, all right? I tend to react to people on a gut level. And on that level, I find you handsome . . . brave . . . perhaps someone who even fancies himself a bit of a lady’s man . . . with a charming sense of chivalry and an overdeveloped sense of being a swashbuckler. If these were calmer times I would be very taken with the idea of seeing you socially. And if I happened to discover you in my bed, I doubt I would kick you out.”

  “That’s . . . honest,” said Sulu, surprised that his voice suddenly sounded a bit hoarse.

  “But trust?” she continued. “No, trust you, I don’t. I would be crazy to. I won’t turn my back on you, nor take my eyes off you. And I fully expect you to treat me in the same manner, and if you don’t, you’re a fool.”

  “I see,” he said evenly. “Now shall I be honest with you?”

  “Don’t bother,” she informed him. “Since I don’t trust you, then obviously it doesn’t matter what you say since I have no reason to assume you’re being honest with me. Q.E.D. Besides,” and she inclined her chin slightly, “unless I’m mistaken, here comes Kelles.”

  It was not at all what Sulu was expecting. The vehicles that he’d seen in the city had mostly been period vehicles. Not this. This was a very impressive antigrav craft: a three-man shuttle, the type designed for inner-city use in that it didn’t travel more than a few feet off the ground. After all, not everyone was license
d to maneuver the higher flying shuttles. Anarchy in the skyways would be the result; it had in years past when technology had briefly outstripped humanity’s ability to regulate it. The legendary two-thousand-car pileup in San Diego remained a testimony to those dangers.

  The shuttle’s burnished exterior was sleek, almost looking like the head and beak of a bird of prey. Sulu recognized this particular model: Despite its street-level uses, it was called a Peregrine, after the falcon. The heavy-duty front windows were smoked, insuring privacy.

  The Peregrine slid to a halt mere feet away from Sulu and Ling Sui. It hovered there a moment, then settled to the ground. The side door swung open with a sigh of air, and a tall, heavyset black man stepped out. He wore a battered brown hat pulled down low over his face, a white shirt with brown vest, and loose-fitting slacks. His black boots were thick with dust and looked as if they hadn’t been polished for months.

  “Kelles!” hissed Ling Sui.

  Kelles looked toward Sulu and Ling in almost leisurely fashion. “You’re early,” he said. His voice was very low, and yet it seemed to carry.

  “What kind of vehicle is that?” she demanded. “You’re the one who always told me to be subtle. You’re getting sloppy in your old age.”

  “Sloppy?” said Kelles, looking offended. “It’s reverse psychology, girl. Drive something conspicuous; that way the enemy doesn’t notice you because they figure you wouldn’t be that stupid.”

  Ling looked dubious.

  Kelles, in the meantime, was looking Sulu up and down. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, the question addressed to her, the attention paid to him.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me,” said Kelles. There was a quiet danger in his voice.

  Sulu wondered how this new arrival fit into the grand scheme of things. There seemed to be only one truly logical answer. This fellow, Kelles, was going to be the means through which the whole charade finally ended. Ling would give him whatever it was she has allegedly stolen. He would pay her off. Maybe there would even be one final close call or two. And then it would be over. Ling would say something appropriately mysterious, vanish into the back alleys of the Thieves Quarter, and that would be that.