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Day 145
Standard Year 1118
Kinaveral

THEY WERE HAVING themselves a quiet meal—Grig and Khat and Seeli—talking over the events of the day, of which there hadn't been that many, and figuring out the share-work for the next while.

"Port's got me scheduled for a long-fly, week after next," Khat said, putting her finger down on the grid they had on the table between them. "Liaden edge, near enough. Top rate. Bonus, too. Be good for the bank and I'd like to go, just for the jig of it. Getting tired of station shuttles and ferry-jobs."

Seeli craned her head to read the grid upside down. "Five days out?"

"If you need me down here, I'll tell 'em to find somebody else. No problem, Seeli."

"I don't see any reason to do that. Got the monthly comin' up, but Grig was wantin' to do the walk-through. Got that all straight with the yard-boss, so he can't squawk crew-change and lock us out."

"Man's a couple decimals short of an orbit," Khat muttered.

"Yard's top-rated, though," Grig said. "Which is enough to keep a body awake at night."

Seeli slanted him a look. "Is that what's keepin' you awake at night?"

He gave her the Full Dignified, nose tipped up, and slightly wrinkled, mouth rumpled like he'd tasted something slightly bad. "That, and certain importunate young persons."

She slapped her hand flat on the table. "Importunate, is it? I'll importunate you, Grig Tom—"

"Ho, the ship!" came the hail from the outer room.

"Paitor!" Khat yelled. "In the galley! Grab a brew and tell us the news!"

In he came, looking dusty and tired, gave a general nod of hi-there, threw his jacket over the back of an unclaimed chair and made a line for the cold-box.

"Handwich makin's there, too, Paitor, if you're peckish," Grig said, quiet and serious of a sudden.

"Brew's fine," the other man said, coming back to the table with one in his hand. He dropped into the chair, broke the seal on the bottle and had a long drink.

"That's good," he sighed, leaning back, eyes slitted, though if it was in pleasure or plain exhaustion Khat couldn't have said.

"What's the news, Uncle?" Seeli asked, quiet, like Grig had been. Feeling out trouble, Khat thought, considering the slump of Paitor's shoulders.

He sighed, and straightened, and got his eyes opened.

"Funny thing," he said, and it was Grig he was looking at. "You might find it so. Fella come by Terratrade today, asking for me by name. They sent him on up. Turns out he was in the market for fractins."

"The headcase," Seeli said, understanding, and reached for her brew. "I hope you sold him a warehouse full, and at a favorable price, too. Ship's General could use the cash."

He flicked a glance at her, then back to Grig. "I'd've done that, but it was special fractins he was after."

Grig shrugged, expressionless, and Khat felt something with lots of cold feet run down her spine.

"Seems what this fella was after, was Arin's fractins. Said he was willing to offer a handsome sum—he named it, and it was. Told him I couldn't oblige, that Arin's son had everything Arin had cared to leave behind, and the boy was 'prenticed to another ship."

There was a small pause, growing longer, as Paitor waited for Grig to say something.

Eventually, the lanky crewman shrugged again. "Should've been an end to it, then."

"Should've," Paitor agreed. "Wasn't. 'stead what he wants to know is if we got any other Befores on trade. Especially, he's interested in light-wands and duplicating units."

Grig laughed, sharp and ugly. "Man's a fool."

"Headcase," Seeli said again. "Told you."

"Close enough," Grig agreed, and reached for his brew.

"I'm asking," Paitor said, his hands folded 'round his own bottle and the knuckles showing, Khat saw, a shade or two pale.

Grig looked up and put the brew down. "Ask it, then."

"Was Arin dealing old tech?" The words came out kinda gritty and tight.

Grig lifted an eyebrow. "Dirt makin' you squeamish? Never took cash for a fractin, I guess."

Paitor took a hard breath, lifted his brew and had another long drink, thumping the bottle back to the table, empty. Khat got up and went to the cold-box, pulled four new bottles and brought them back to the table. She broke the seal on one and put it in front of Paitor, took another for herself and sat down. Across the table, Seeli was sitting tall, looking a frown between Paitor and Grig.

"Sure, I sold 'em—a piece of this, a part of that," Paitor said at last, his eyes pegged to Grig's. "Maybe a frame an' some fractins. Who knows what they were, or what they did?"

"I thought you wasn't a believer."

Paitor grinned, no humor in it at all.

"Don't need to be a believer when I got one across the table, asking for whole, working gadgets by name."

"Point." Grig lifted his brew and finished it off, put the bottle back soft on the table. "So you asked—yeah, Arin traded the underside in old tech. Far as I know, he was mostly buying—bought some few things, myself, now and then, like that weather maker Jeth adopted. Most of the stuff, it went—someplace else. And before you ask—no, I don't know where it is or how it went. Arin's business, first and finish. He didn't tell me everything." He reached to the middle of the table and snagged another brew; glanced back to Paitor's face. "You know how Arin was."

"This guy was buying," Paitor said, but Khat could see that he was finding Grig's story believable and in some part comforting.

Grig shrugged. "Man's running with old info," he suggested, breaking the seal on his brew. "Headcase, too." He flicked a quick smile at Seeli, who didn't let go of her frown. "You want me to talk to him?"

A pause, then a headshake. "No need. I told him we didn't have no fractins; told him we're fresh outta old tech. On planet for a refit, I told him. Got nothing worth trading at all." He lifted his bottle, but didn't quite drink. "Seemed satisfied with that. Though he left me a beam-code." Paitor's lips thinned. "In case I should come across something."

"Which won't happen, 'cause we ain't looking," Seeli said, firmly, reaching for the last bottle and breaking the seal with a vengeance. "We're well out of it." She favored Grig with a glare, and he dipped his head, agreeable-like.

"Sure, Seeli."

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Framed