The Ship Who Won Read Online Free PDF Page A

bigwigs coming through who would pay
    good credit for original art. Not to mention the added
    cachet that it's painted by a brainship."
    ^1 Iff I/I/ A"-
    "We-ell..." Carialle said, considering.
    "I'll give you free space near the concessions for the first
    week, so you're not losing anything on the cost of location.
    If you feel shy about showing off, you can do it by invitation only, but I warn you, word will spread."
    "You've persuaded me," Carialle said.
    "My intentions are purely honorable," Simeon replied
    gallantly. "Frag it!" he exclaimed. The speed of transmission on his frequency increased to a microsquirt. "You're as
    loaded and ready as you're going to get, Carialle. Put it
    together and scram off this station. The Inspector General
    wants a meeting with you in fifteen minutes. He just told
    me to route a message through to you. I'm delaying it as
    long as I dare."
    "Oh, no!" Carialle said at the same speed. "I have no
    intention of letting Dr. Sennet T am a psychologist' Maxwell-Corey pick through my brains every single fardling
    time I make stationfall. I'm cured, damn it! I don't need
    constant monitoring."
    "You'd better scoot now, Cari. My walls-with-ears have
    heard rumors that he thinks your 'obsession' with things
    like Myths and Legends makes your sanity highly suspect.
    When he hears the latest report-your Beasts Blatisant-you're going to be in for another long psychological profile
    session, and Keff along with you. Even Maxwell-Corey has
    to justify his job to someone."
    "Damn him! We haven't finished loading my supplies! I
    only have half a vat of nutrients, and most of the stuff Keff
    ordered is still in your stores."
    "Sorry, honey. It'll still be here when you come back. I
    can send you a squirt after he's gone."
    Carialle considered swiftly whether it was worth calling
    in a complaint to SPRIM over the Inspector General and
    his obsessive desire to prove her unfit for service. He was
    witch-hunting, of that she was sure, and she wasn't going to
    be the witch involved. Wasn't it bad enough that he
    insisted on making her relive a sixteen-year-old tragedy
    every time they met? One day there was going to be a big
    battle, but she didn't feel like taking him on yet.
    Simeon was right. The CK-963 was through with
    decontamination and repairs. Only half a second had
    passed during their conversation. Simeon could hold up
    the IGs missive only a few minutes before the delay would
    cause the obstreperous Maxwell-Corey to demand an
    inquiry.
    "Open up for me, Simeon. I've got to find Keff."
    "No problem," the stationmaster said. "I know where
    he went."
    "Keff," said the wall over his head. "Emergency transmission from Carialle."
    Keff tilted his head up lazily. "I'm busy, Simeon. Privacy." Susa's hand reached up, tangled in his hair, and
    pulled it down again. He breathed in the young woman's
    scent, moved his hands in delightful counterpoint under
    her body, one down from the curve other shoulder, pushing the thin cloth of her ship-suit down; one upward,
    caressing her buttocks and delicate waist. She locked her
    legs with his, started her free hand toward his waistband,
    feeling for the fastening.
    "Emergency priority transmission from Carialle,"
    Simeon repeated.
    Reluctantly, Keff unlocked his lips from Susa's. Her eyes
    filled with concern, she nodded. Without moving his head,
    he said, "All right, Simeon. Put it through."
    "Keff," Carialles voice rang with agitation. "Get down
    here immediately. We've got to lift ship ASAP."
    "Why?" Keff asked irritably. "You couldn't have finished
    loading already."
    "Haven't. Can't wait. Got to go. Get here, stat!"
    Sighing, Keff rolled off Susa and petulantly addressed
    the ceiling. "What about my shore leave? Ladylove, while I
    like nothing better in the galaxy than being with you
    ninety-nine percent of the time, there is that one percent
    when we poor shell-less ones need-"
    Carialle cut him off. "Keff, the Inspector Generals on
    station."
    "What?" Keff sat