by Timothy Zahn
“I understand,” I said evenly. I’d been fairly repulsed by the whole cynical scheme when Applegate had first suggested it, and it didn’t sound any better coming from Losutu. But at least he was being honest about it. “Let me look at the fighters and I’ll let you know.”
For a moment Losutu studied my face. Then his lip quirked microscopically, and he nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll expect you at the lodge’s main entrance tomorrow morning at ten.”
The toboggan tunnel work schedule I’d pulled from the hotel computer just before coming to dinner had indicated the crew was due on site at seven. That should give me plenty of time. “I’ll be there,” I promised.
“Good,” Losutu said, leaning back in his seat and gesturing to the menu. “Then while we eat you can tell us all about this new travel job of yours.”
“Certainly,” I said, shifting my brain into liar mode. It was becoming an increasingly easy transition for me to make. “I was approached about three months ago…”
The evening turned out to be considerably more pleasant than I’d expected, despite the fact that I didn’t particularly like or trust either of my dinner companions. Losutu could be rather charming when he chose, in a cold-fish sort of way, and Applegate had apparently decided to abandon the comrades-in-arms approach he’d tried on the Quadrail and let Losutu do most of the talking.
We had a long and leisurely dinner, the full traditional Halkan five courses plus the knotting of wish sticks at the end. Once I’d finished my travel-agent story the conversation turned to Losutu’s dealings with the rest of the galaxy on the Confederation’s behalf, a monologue heavy on amusing stories and light on useful information.
As promised, Applegate picked up the tab on the UN’s behalf, and I was making my farewells when Losutu suggested we go see a show. For no particular reason I said yes, and we headed up to the theater section nestled just beneath the ice. The show he chose was a Cimman production, but it had been written broadly enough to be at least marginally accessible to other species. I’d always thought of Cimman drama as a cross between Japanese Kabuki theater and English Reformation comedy, and this one in particular seemed to hit just the right notes. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and by the time it was over I was feeling more relaxed than I’d been since I’d walked down the steps at the New Pallas Towers that dark evening seventeen days ago. Leaving Losutu and Applegate at the elevator bank—they were going to the theater lounge to hammer out final details for the morning’s inspection tour—I got into one of the elevators and punched for my floor.
At least, I thought I’d punched for it. But when the doors slid open, I found myself gazing instead down into the casino.
My first impulse was to stay in the car and simply make sure I hit the right button this time. But between the background hum of conversation, the clicking of the dice and chips and chinko tiles, and the effervescent sparkle of the waterfall, I found myself instead stepping out of the elevator and walking down the ramp to the main floor. No matter how quickly Bayta had gotten her message off she couldn’t possibly have gotten an answer yet, so there really wasn’t any need for me to hurry back to the suite. Besides, a little judicious eavesdropping might sift out a useful nugget or two.
I spent some time wandering the casino, watching the games and keeping my ears open. Again, though, all the conversations seemed to center on fluff and trivialities. I made a complete circle of the floor, shifted to a sort of lopsided figure eight, then finally went with a straight inward vector.
And so within a few minutes of my arrival, I found myself standing by the central fountain.
I gazed down into the pool, watching how the lapping water gently surging around the coral caught the casino’s lights, adding an extra sparkle to the subtle color display. It really was an intriguing substance, I had to admit, and in this light it didn’t look nearly as scratchy as Earth coral. Earlier, I’d agreed with Applegate’s curt dismissal of its unfriendly texture; but as I stood here now, I wondered if perhaps I’d been overly hasty. Everyone else seemed to think it was no big deal to pet this stuff. What if they were right?
Besides, even if they weren’t, what was the big deal? At worst, I’d get a scratch or two. At best, I’d be able to go to Bayta and tell her what a rewarding experience it had been—
I frowned, my train of rationalization braking to a sudden halt. Bayta, who had gazed into my eyes with a face more filled with concern than any of my superiors at Westali had ever shown, and had begged me to promise I would never touch Modhran coral.
And I’d looked back into that face, and made a little joke, and said yes.
It was ridiculous, of course. Bayta was a casual companion, thrown at me without invitation on a job I’d essentially been press-ganged into doing. She was also a liar, at least by omission, with a private agenda that may or may not have my own best interests at heart. And it wasn’t as if I’d sworn a solemn oath on a multitranslation Bible or anything.
Which was, a small corner of my mind noted, more rationalization.
I didn’t need to rationalize. I was a big boy, and I could do what I wanted. And I didn’t need to care about anyone’s opinion, especially Bayta’s.
So why was I spending all this effort to talk myself into this?
I focused my eyes on the coral in front of me… and it was only then that I discovered that my hand was already stretched out over the pool and starting down toward the sloshing water.
I snatched the hand back, feeling sweat suddenly breaking out on my face. What the hell was going on here? I took a long step away from the pool, looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t going to back into anyone.
I froze. All around me, everywhere I could see, the casino patrons had paused in their games and their conversations.
And they were all watching me.
The tableau lasted only a fraction of a second before they turned away again, casually resuming their activities as if it had all been a giant coincidence, that they’d all merely happened to be looking in the same direction at the same moment. But I knew better.
Earlier, I’d wondered whether Bayta and I might have stumbled into the middle of some strange conspiracy. Now I knew that we had.
I headed straight for the exit ramp, senses alert, face set into a combat mask that dared anyone to try to stop me. Fortunately for them, no one did. I reached the elevators and punched the call button, and a few seconds later was on my way down to our suite.
I arrived to find Bayta slouched low into one of the couches, gazing dully at some unfamiliar dit rec. She looked up as I came in, a flicker of relief crossing her face. “There you are,” she said, her tone a subtle mixture of petulance, concern, and relief. “I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry,” I said, keeping my voice casual as my watch tingled the news that the hidden microphones were still on duty. “Losutu insisted on dragging me to one of the shows afterwards.” I gestured toward the bedroom. “Going to be a busy day tomorrow. We’d better get to bed.”
She twitched, her eyes widening a little. Up to now, we’d never even slept in the same room, let alone together in the same bed. “To—?”
“To bed,” I repeated, leaning a little on the last word as I touched my ear in warning.
She swallowed visibly. “All right,” she said. Turning off the dit rec, she disappeared into the bedroom.
I shut off the lights and opaqued the walls and floor in the main room, then double-checked that the door was triple-locked. By the time I joined her she had similarly opaqued the bedroom wall and floor and was lying rigidly in the middle of the bed with the blanket and overblanket pulled up to her chin. I turned off the light, took off my shoes, and crawled in from the near side. “Mm—you smell good tonight,” I commented aloud for the benefit of listening ears as I maneuvered close to her.
She didn’t say anything, but just lay silently, her body as rigid as a board. Like me, she was still fully clothed. “Sorry about this,” I whispered in her ear. “But
the bugs are still active. The ones in this room are over by the bathroom and closet, so we should be able to talk here without them listening in.”
“What do you want to talk about?” she whispered back.
“Let me start by telling you about my evening.”
I recounted everything that had happened, from the dinner to the play to my unplanned detour into the casino. When I had finished, she was silent so long that I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Then she turned her head to put her lips by my ear. “Are you sure you didn’t touch the coral?”
“I’m positive,” I assured her.
“How can you be?” she demanded. “You said you blacked out for a second. Could you have touched it, then dried your hand on your jacket?”
I shook my head. “The coral where I was standing was deep enough for my cuff to have gone into the water, too. There’s no way I could have dried that off.” I turned my head a little and gazed down at the top of her head. “I think it’s about time you told me just what the hell is going on here, Bayta. Especially what the hell is going on with the coral.”
I felt her body stiffen. “I can’t tell you,” she said, the words coming out almost too quiet to hear. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”
“You may be sorrier than you think,” I warned. “I can’t protect you against danger I don’t understand.”
She hesitated, and I held my breath. But no. “The coral’s not dangerous if you don’t touch it,” she said. “That’s all I can say right now.”
Earlier, up on the surface, I’d thought about simply walking out on this mess. Now, after the eeriness of the casino, I was even more inclined to do so. And to take Bayta with me, whether she wanted to go or not.
But down deep, I knew it wouldn’t work. Whoever our mysterious enemies were, we were already in their sights. One way or another, we had to see this through. “Have it your way,” I said. “Just remember that your neck’s on the line here, too.”
She shivered. “I know,” she murmured. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to stick with Plan A, and try to get a look at what the Bellidos have been up to,” I said.
“Before or after you go to Modhra II with your friends to see the starfighters?”
It was usually hard to distinguish emotions in a whisper, but I had no trouble hearing the harshness in hers. “They’re not my friends, and I don’t give a damn about the starfighters,” I growled back. “What have you got against friends, anyway? Or do you just like to rub in the fact that I don’t have any?”
For a moment she didn’t speak. “How are you going to do it?” she asked at last.
I grimaced. For a moment there… But that was all right. I didn’t particularly want her friendship, either. “There’s an employees-only door up in the lodge near the airlocks that’s probably a ready room. I’ll sneak in after the main work force has left and get a suit.”
“Won’t that be dangerous?”
“Depends on whether the whole resort staff is in on the conspiracy or if it’s just the upper-crust elite who come here to play,” I said. “Anyway, assuming I get that far, and further assuming I have enough time in that bend of the tunnel with no one watching, I should be able to poke a small hole through the ice, take a quick look, seal it up, and be back in time for my ten o’clock appointment with Losutu.”
“And then you are going with him to Modhra II?”
“At the moment, I can’t see any plausible way to get out of it,” I said regretfully. “But I’ll say all the things he wants to hear and get back here as quickly as I can. With luck, we’ll be able to grab the afternoon torchferry to the Tube.”
She hissed out a sigh. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with any of this. “What do you want me to do?”
“That’s up to you,” I said. “You can stay here, or you can join the tour group and go ahead of me to the Balercomb Formations. That’s where Losutu’s going to drop me off, so if you do that we can ride back together on the bus.”
“I’ll go on the tour, I guess,” she said. “When does it leave?”
“Seven-half from the lodge,” I said. “I’ll already be gone, so you’ll have to get there on your own. You think you can handle it?”
“I made it to Earth and back on my own,” she said a little tartly.
“I know,” I said. “But everyone on Earth wasn’t out to get you.”
She shivered again. “I’ll be all right.”
“Good girl,” I said. “Did you get that message off to the Spiders?”
She nodded, her hair brushing against my cheek. “But we won’t get an answer before tomorrow.”
“Understood,” I said. “Where is it? I’d like to take a look.”
“On my reader, in the outgoing message folder.”
“Okay,” I said, gathering myself to slide back to the edge of the bed. “Try to get some sleep.”
“Are you coming back?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said, trying for a confidence I didn’t feel. “I was trained by one of the best, remember?”
“No,” she said hesitantly. “I meant… are you coming back now?”
I frowned in the darkness. “What?”
Her sigh was a breath of warm air against my skin. “I’m afraid,” she said simply. “I don’t want to be alone.”
I looked down again at the top of her head, wondering how much it had cost her pride to admit something like that.
Still, now that she mentioned it, I realized I didn’t especially want to be alone right now, either. “It’s okay,” I assured her, groping beneath the sheets to find and squeeze her hand. For once, she didn’t pull it away. “I’ll look at the message and check on a couple of other things, and then I’ll be right back.”
Her reader was on the desk by the computer. I turned it on, went through the convoluted access procedure she’d taught me, and found the message. I glanced over it, noting with approval that it was exactly what I’d asked her to send, then scrolled down to the encrypted version. Pulling out my own reader, I scanned her message in and keyed for an analysis. I watched the procedure long enough to confirm that it wasn’t a Halkan military encryption, then turned on the room’s computer and again skulked my way into the hotel’s food service records.
As with the previous day, only two Belldic breakfasts and midday meals had been ordered. The evening meals, however, were a different story. A total of twelve had been ordered and consumed, nine of them via room service.
Either Anos Mahf had suddenly developed an enormous appetite, or else our wayward Bellidos had finally arrived.
By the time I returned to my reader it had finished its analysis. Bayta’s code wasn’t related to anything Halkan, military or civilian, or to any of the known Cimman or Jurian or Human systems.
It was, however, the same pattern as the laser-code system I’d spotted and recorded aboard the Quadrail. The system the Bellidos had been using.
The suite’s refreshment center was well stocked with beverages of all sorts, all of them in nice sturdy glass bottles. Selecting two with a good size and heft, I turned off the computer and readers and returned to the bedroom.
Bayta had rolled away from the middle of the bed in my absence, hunching up onto her side facing away from me. She didn’t move or speak as I climbed in under the blankets, but from her restless movements I could tell she was still awake. I laid my hand reassuringly on her shoulder for a moment, then slid back to my edge of the bed to give her as much privacy as I could.
One of the two bottles went under my pillow where it would be close at hand. The other went on the floor just under the edge of the bed where I could get to it if I had to roll out in a hurry. Settling myself comfortably on my side where I would be facing the door, I got a loose grip on the bottle under my pillow and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow promised to be a busy day. If whoever was behind all this wanted to start that day a little early, I was willing to oblige him.
FOURTEEN
The mornin
g work crews dribbled into the ready room as I sat on the far side of a nearby lounge pretending to read the latest Quadrail-delivered Intragala News. Promptly at six-two-thirds, they came out again in a group, forty-five of them, all properly vac-suited, and made their way out the airlock in groups of four. I waited another third of an hour to make sure there weren’t any stragglers, then tucked my reader into my side pocket and casually wandered over and slipped through the door.
Ten minutes later, attired in a vac suit only slightly too large for me, my faceplate darkened enough to hide my features, I followed them onto the ice.
I headed up the hills along the line of red pylons, listening to the Halkan chatter coming through the helmet speaker. All the discussion seemed to be about the two new toboggan tunnels, but as I flipped through the various frequencies I discovered three more clusters of conversation. Apparently, there were a lot of Halkas out on the surface today.
But wherever they were, they were keeping out of sight. Aside from a group of lodge guests heading toward the ski slopes, I saw no one until I came within view of the new tunnels. There, in the staging area between the openings, were a pair of workers, one handling a spurting drain hose, the other squatting by an open pump and fiddling with the equipment inside.
I started down the slope, making my stride and gait as much like a Halka’s as I could. From the number of voices and names I could pick out of the chatter, I estimated there were fifteen to twenty other workers at the site. That should be enough of a crowd for me to lose myself in. I could burn a peephole through the ice with the plasma torch on my tool belt, have a quick look, and be out again before anyone even started wondering. A quick wink-and-wag, easy as pie.
Maybe a little too easy.
I studied the two workers in the staging area as I continued down the slope, quiet alarm bells starting to chime in the back of my head. There was no reason to tie up a worker on water-dump duty—a couple of anchor staffs, and the hose could take care of itself. As for the lad at the pump, he seemed to be doing more staring and poking than actual repair work. He did, however, have an open toolbox sitting conveniently beside him, which could conceal any number of unpleasant surprises. And to top it off, they were facing opposite directions, giving themselves a panoramic view of all possible approaches.
