Fool's War by Sarah Zettel Page B

son. They kept the fact very quiet, since neither of them particularly wanted to deal with the jokes that were sure to arise from it.
    It also meant that, technically, she could take off her hijab in front of him. She had never exercised the option.
    “So, Tom, what’s the problem?” Al Shei tucked the hot box under her arm so she could fold the table down from the wall and deposit her dinner on it.
    Schyler paced the room between her folded up bed and her nest of faux silk pillows in the far corner. His hands were jammed so far into his pockets, she could see the fabric strain at the seams.
    At last, he faced her. “I think Marcus Tully’s finally gone too far.”
    Al Shei leaned her hip against the edge of the table and reached up under her hijab to rub her temple. It was not surprising to find that Schyler’s abrupt confirmation the suspicions she’d laid out for Asil did not make her feel better.
    “I know.” She lowered her hand. “Or at least, I suspected. Do you know exactly what he did?” she asked.
    Schyler shrugged without taking his hands out of his pockets. His coveralls hitched up and down. “I’m not sure. You know he never tells me when he breaking local law…”
    “So you won’t have to tell me.” Al Shei finished for him. “What’s different this time.”
    “Whatever it is he… acquired, he’s left it here.”
    Al Shei jerked her head up. “What!”
    “Or part of it, or evidence of it.” Schyler finally extracted his hands and waved them towards the walls. “He tried to get back on board after he’d checked out. Needed to get some things he’d left behind he said.” Schyler jammed his hands back into his pockets.” He’s never done that. The change-overs have always been smooth. Something is up this time.”
    Al Shei nodded. “I agree with you. What could he have left? It’s not in the engineer’s cabin, or if it is it’s hidden…” An idea struck her and Al Shei faced the wall. “Intercom to Houston.” She waited the single second while the intercom located and paged him.
    “Houston, here, Engine,” came back Lipinski’s voice. She could hear the faint noise of voices in the background, so ‘here’ was probably the comm center, as opposed to the data-hold.
    “Houston, what did you do with those burned out wafer stacks? Did you cash them in with the recyclers at Oberon?” The look that crossed Schyler’s face that was part revelatory and part fearful.
    “No,” answered Lipinski. “It looked like some of the sectors might be useable, so I kept them for spares. I haven’t gone over them yet.”
    Al Shei tapped one finger against the wall. “Just put them aside for now, will you, Houston? I’ll be down later to talk to you. Intercom to close.” The wall chirped as the connection closed.
    Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve and faced Schyler. “You know, if this turns out to bean on-going situation, Resit is going to have fifty fits.”
    “I know.”
    “Do you have any idea at all what Tully was doing?”
    Schyler nodded reluctantly. Al Shei bit her tongue. She hated it when he acted like a guilty child. Most of the time he was a fast thinker, cool under pressure and quick to give an order or take on a job. But very now and then, the sheepish, confused Schyler she had helped out on Station Kilimanjaro resurfaced.
    “So, what is it?” The chill she felt in her blood was reflected in her voice. She’d had plenty of time in the off watches to speculate on what Tully had been up to on his run. Part of her did not want confirmation of any of the ideas she had dreamed up.
    She waited while Schyler made up his mind. She forced herself to be patient. Schyler functioned in a small world of self-imposed rules. One of those rules dictated that he never discussed Al Shei’s doings with Tully, or Tully’s with Al Shei. He was about to break that rule. She could spare him the time he needed to finally decide to do it.
    “I think he was data smuggling from Powell