The Consuming Fire (The Interdependency #2)(39)

“Is that so.”

“Yes, apparently your brother had been talking to several prominent underworld figures about the possibility of an insurance fraud on some of the house ships. It seems he had been embezzling from the house funds and needed to replace that money before it was noticed. Nothing a good ‘destruction of a multibillion-mark spaceship’ scam couldn’t solve.”

Nadashe nodded. “What did I tell you?”

“I can scarcely believe it myself,” Dorick said.

Nadashe smiled at this. The little dance Dorick just had to do to make it look like he didn’t know about her agreement with Deran Wu, on the grounds it was a criminal scheme and he would be implicated in it up to his eyeballs, was sad and a little pathetic, but necessary. “Who else am I meeting with, aside from my mother?”

“Lord Teran Assan has asked for a meeting.”

“For what purpose?”

“He said he wants your wisdom about certain members of the executive committee. He’s apparently finding a few of them difficult to reach a rapport with.”

“It’s because he’s an asshole.”

“That would have been my guess, too. Nevertheless, given his position on the committee he’s someone worth cultivating.” Dorick raised his eyebrows at this last part, to indicate to Nadashe that in fact Teran Assan was a useful tool, so maybe throw him a bone.

Nadashe groaned. “Make the meeting as short as humanly possible.”

“You got it. Also Lady Kiva Lagos’s office called and was curious if you might make time for her.”

“Good lord, why?”

Dorick looked at his notes. “She apparently has some questions about financials.”

“The house’s financials were Amit’s job, not mine.”

“Lady Kiva’s office anticipated this objection and says they suspect you might have some insight that would be useful to her.”

What is that woman up to? Nadashe thought. She and Kiva were never close in college, even when they were in the same dormitory and Kiva was banging Ghreni. They both instinctively understood that the way to harmony was to stay out of each other’s business. Now Kiva was all up in Nadashe’s business and she didn’t like it one bit. “You haven’t already scheduled that.”

“No, I was waiting on your approval.”

“Then don’t bother. Whatever she’s doing with our financials, I don’t want to be part of it or anywhere near it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I will work hard to make sure you are untroubled by Lady Kiva’s look into your company’s finances,” Dorick said, blandly, which meant he understood that the order encompassed rather more than just not taking a meeting. Then he looked at his watch. “And that’s all our time for the day. I’ll see you in two days, Lady Nadashe. Avoid toothbrushes and spoons until then. And work on your sadness.”

“It doesn’t take much work,” Nadashe assured him. And that much was true, at least. Gallows humor or not, flat affect or not, the prison life was getting to Nadashe. The prospect of this, all day, every day, for the rest of her life was not one Nadashe wished to entertain. If it meant faking a little mental breakdown in front of a judge, that was a thing she was willing to try.

One way or another, she was getting out of here.

*

“What I’m saying is, it doesn’t taste like fish,” one of the guards was saying to another one as the transport bumped its way across the airless surface of Hub. The two guards had been talking about food for the last half hour; the third was slumped in a seat, snoring. Nadashe envied the third guard.

“Of course it tastes like fish,” the other guard said. “Fish always tastes like fish. That’s why it’s called ‘fish.’”

“Right, but what I’m saying is that it doesn’t taste fishy like most fish.”

“So it’s not as fishy.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Then it still tastes fishy,” said the second guard. “Just in a different way.”

“No, you’re not getting it,” the first guard said, and then turned to Nadashe to include her in the pressing debate about what constituted fishy fish.

Don’t do it don’t you do it don’t you fucking dare, Nadashe thought furiously at the guard, willing the goon into silence.

“So, let me ask you about this fish,” the guard began, and then there was a hideous bang and the transport launched itself into the air and tumbled violently to the side, and all Nadashe could think about was how grateful she was that her final words would not be some asinine discussion about aquaculture.

A few seconds later she realized she wasn’t dying, but that she was now hanging off the ceiling of the truck, because what was now the ceiling used to be the side, and she was strapped in and chained up. Her restraints had held up admirably, so she wasn’t dead, and that was good, but the low, violent whistling she was hearing was telling her that the air was leaking out of the transport cabin, which meant she would soon be dead of asphyxiation, and that was not great.

Nadashe looked down and saw the third guard crumpled in a heap, neck at an unsurvivable angle. Went sleeping, she thought. How nice. The other two were on the floor that used to be a side, dazed.