Matty laughed.
“There is,” he said. “There's a table tucked in a corner of the kitchen, at the end of the bank of counters and cupboards. You can't miss it, once you know about it. It's out of the range of the spy-eyes of the Priests of Ammha—whether things were arranged that way on purpose, I'm not sure, but the workers do take advantage of it. The women who work in the Hostel are great—they deal with people from elsewhere so they can't be too nutty—and I'm sure they'll be happy to sit with you and sip some wine during a quiet evening—and lots of them are quiet now. You might even come across a useful nugget of information, or two if you're charming enough!”
“I'll be charming enough, worry not,” Coryn replied with a chuckle. “I learned the ropes in the boudoirs of Space Station RES, after all!”
“And Sarah doesn't mind?” Matty asked teasingly.
“It's a part of my work, and she understands that. She also knows that I'm utterly devoted to her; wouldn't dream of being disloyal. She's a very special person; I feel incredibly fortunate to be with her.”
“When I knew her here, I had the feeling that the guy she fell in love with would be a lucky man,” Matty said softly. “There were depths to her which I, a mere platonic friend, could only guess at. She was keeping those depths to herself at the time, but I thought that should she ever open herself up to somebody, well....” His voice trailed off.
Coryn gave the younger man a searching look.
“You are a very perceptive person,” he said. “You're going to be one hell of an Agent, given time. Marcues better not waste your talents.”
**
Coryn followed the plan of action that he had devised with Matty. The wine bottles Matty conjured up explained their continued association, although the gregarious young man was a person to encourage visitors to hang out with him even when there was no business involved. The women Hostel employees needed little urging to spend a bit of down time sipping wine with the handsome traveller from the Central Galaxy. Coryn, an expert at drawing out information without seeming particularly inquisitive, learned a lot from them about how the Space Station was run, and a few things about the newcomers from the Neotsarian sector of the Galaxy who were associating with the Station Authorities. Those Authorities all were Priests of Ammha, and he had assumed that the women would be cowed by them, but that seemed to not be entirely so. There was passive resistance happening among the female population of the Station! Amused, Coryn stored the fact in the back of his mind, thinking to entertain Sarah with it when he was back on Kordea!
**
The day before Coryn was scheduled to leave, a group of Organization Hounds showed up at the Hostel. Maria, one of the Hostel workers whom Coryn had befriended, stopped him to warn him about their arrival as he headed out to meet Matty at the Central Caf.
“There are four of them,” she said, pitching her voice low, even though there was no-one within earshot. “They look like trouble, as far as I'm concerned. And they asked if you were here—not by name, but they described you closely enough that there was no question as to who they were referring. Are they after you?”
She sounded genuinely worried.
“They might be,” Coryn replied, digesting this. “How long are they staying?”
“Just the one night,” Maria answered. “And there's only the one passenger transport leaving tomorrow. The one you're booked on.”
The Hostel workers knew the liner schedules backwards and forwards. Customers were always asking them about transports, and requesting that they handle their bookings. Not that keeping track was difficult; the travellers had few options.
Coryn thanked Maria for the information, and told her not to fret; he'd figure out a way to stay safe.
If Matty was correct, and the Hounds were after the information that he was supposed to be collecting, getting rid of them ought to be easy. He would create a bogus data disc, and let the Hounds steal it—after putting up a convincing fight, of course.
He grimaced at the thought. He did not particularly enjoy being bashed around. Plus, what if the Hounds had different instructions, ones that included kidnapping or killing the annoying Agent? Well, he was on his way to meet Matty. The two of them could toss the problem around. Surely they could work out a way to foil whatever the Hounds were plotting!
**
“I've been going over it and over it in my mind, the whole time I was walking here from the Hostel,” Coryn said to Matty, as he explained the situation to him, “and the only half-way workable scheme that I've come up with is to somehow avoid getting on that transport that I'm scheduled to travel on, while giving the Hounds the impression that I'm taking it.”
“I think that's right,” Matty agreed. “And then you get on the next ship, going wherever.”
He pulled out a tablet from the satchel he always carried with him. Coryn had been very careful to not ask as to the satchel's contents, ever.
“You're in luck,” he said, after consulting the tablet. “There's a freighter which takes passengers, going to Paxic IV, leaving late tomorrow night. Paxic IV is a shit-hole from what I've been told, but they manufacture ship and computer components and other stuff from the metals that they mine, so they ship a lot of stuff to a lot of places. From there, you ought to be able to hop another freighter going somewhere civilized.”
“Paxic IV? That's Joe Ashton's home world,” Coryn said. “He's a ship mechanic, a big guy, married to the woman who has been my Second-in-Command at the Kordean-Confederation Liaison Office, Jillian Ashton. She's an excellent Agent; and he has been helping us—very competently—with Agency work. Also, he has worked with Sarah on ships, and he keeps raving about her abilities.”
“Well, then, if the question comes up, you decided at the last minute to go and visit friends,” Matty said with a grin. “This Joe guy must have relatives, right?”
“On Paxic IV? Right—only I have no idea who or where they might be. Jillian mentioned once that the last names of the people of that planet—for some reason of colonizing oddity—are totally unpronounceable to us regular Terrans, and halfway impossible to spell. So, when they married Joe took her last name. Made her parents happy, since they have no sons; this way Jill and Joe's children would carry on the Ashton name. Joe had said that it didn't matter to his family, since he had three brothers.”
Matty chuckled.
“I've heard about the Paxic IV names, they're a bit of a joke, even here, on XER. Most of the owners love them, though, from what I've heard. They enjoy listening to people struggle with them.”
“Now I just have to figure out how to make sure that the Hounds board the little liner to Flameworld, while I miss it,” Coryn said.
“Shouldn't be too difficult, if you're willing to eat the fare to Flameworld,” said Matty. “Just be late. Make the transport wait for you, so that the crew will insist on boarding everyone else while they're waiting. Then we'll call them—you can use my com, that might be the best way to do it—and tell them that you've run into a problem and can't make it; they'll have to leave without you. You're sorry to have delayed them, but you thought you could fix the problem, but you can't. They won't care that much, since they know that you won't be getting a refund for such a late cancellation.”
Coryn shrugged.
“I'd rather lose some cash than get into a street fight which I can't win. Or, I guess it would be a shipboard fight. If I was certain that there were no nasty weapons involved, I'd be willing to risk it, but with the Hounds you just don't know, no matter what the local regulations say. They mangled me once, already, in Trahea, and I'm not eager for a repeat.”
“That's why you're going to visit some friends on Paxic IV,” said Matty, grinning conspiratorially.
**
The first part of the plan worked out just fine.
Maria, the Hostel employee, offered to help Coryn, by going to the Space Port, to keep an eye on the events at the berth which the transport to Flameworld used. She was quite familiar with
the place, and the ship, having taken it many times, with and without her kids. Matty vouched for her about that.
“She's one of the people who transports merchandise for me,” he said with a chuckle. “She's a local, and a widow, so she gets a pass from the Customs workers who know that it's not easy for a woman here to raise two kids on her own.”
Thus, Maria loitered across the walkway from where the transport took on passengers, with a com (local service only) attuned to Matty's com. When the Flameworld-bound passengers had all been boarded—even the foursome who seemed to be somewhat reluctant to do so—she called her co-conspirators who were sitting in the Central Caf. Matty switched the feed to the official at the Port Gate, and Coryn spoke to him, explaining that he, unfortunately, was unexpectedly but hopelessly, delayed, and would have to alter his travel plans. The official told him that such a late cancellation meant no refund, and “sorry about your luck”.
Maria stayed at her post to make sure that the ship left, and it did—with the four suspect Neotsarians on board. Coryn bought a ticket for the passenger section of the freighter going to Paxic IV, and in the time remaining before it was to board, invited Maria and her children to join him and Matty for a final meal at the Central Caf. He also paid Matty for a bottle of wine which he instructed the young man to pass to Maria, as a thanks for her help.
**
The freighter trip was a slow crawl in stripped-down quarters with not much company. There was room for a half-dozen passengers, but there were only three, counting Coryn. One was an XER Authority on his way to do business with the mining world's manufacturing sector. The third was an itinerant musician, travelling around the Confederation, “just to see what all was out there”. He was paying his way by busking, paying for his passage on the freighter by entertaining the ship's crew during what passed for evenings.
Coryn accompanied Milo, the musician, to the Crew Lounge when it was time for the show. He would not have wanted to miss it. Other than the hounding by the Hounds, the trip to XER had been dull; if it had not been for Matty and the friendly Hostel workers he would have been bored silly on the Space Station. Besides listening to Milo sing and play his instrument, spending time with the freighter crew, he figured, would give him an opportunity to find out a little about Paxic IV—an Agent was always in the information gathering business. Plus, he was interested to know a little about the place from where Joe Ashton had sprung.
The XER Authority shook his head vigorously when Milo suggested that he, too, might want to listen to music in the Crew Lounge.
“Evenings are the time for my prayers and meditation,” he said tersely, retiring to his cabin.
Coryn, listening to the short exchange, shrugged.
“Let him pray,” he said. “Don't bother being insulted by anything that the XER Authorities do, or don't do. They're weird, and entirely too friendly, to my way of thinking, with those crazies from the other sector of our Galaxy.”
“Though that association makes sense,” Milo sniffed as he gathered up his guitar. “Authoritarian fools, both groups; not a wonder if they get along. I'd not be surprised if the lesser classes of The Organization are as rebellious as some of the women I met on XER were!”
Coryn grinned.
“You and I must have run into some of the same women,” he replied.
They set out to follow the instructions that the Captain had given Milo for finding the Crew Lounge. The part of the freighter that had been carved out to carry passengers was at a distance from the crew quarters. The carving had been done a long time ago, Coryn surmised, perhaps at a time when people had been a more lucrative weight for a ship to carry than they were at present. On this trip, certainly, the operators were not turning much of a passenger fare profit. Only two paying customers, since Milo was singing for his supper—and his sleeping space.
**
The Crew Lounge was small but space had been allotted for a tiny, make-shift podium for Milo to occupy. A hefty fellow who introduced himself as the Captain made room for Coryn on a comfortable couch. The third occupant of the couch was a muscular, middle-aged woman, and between her and Captain Mallory (that was his first name, Coryn made hash of the last), the honed, but slim, Agent felt like a slight teen. He looked around, somewhat bemused, while Milo tuned his guitar.
“Out with it,” said a big-bodied younger woman who sat crossed-legged on the floor, studying his face.
In that position, black-haired as she was, she looked like a caricature of Sarah, or Dian, meditating. Coryn could not help smiling at her.
“What are you thinking, cute blond boy?”
Coryn burst out laughing.
“I feel like I've been dropped into a room filled with Joe Ashtons of both sexes,” he said. “Which is not that surprising since Joe happens to be a native of Paxic IV!”
“Joe Ashton? You know Joe Ashton?” asked a fellow seated in a large easy chair. “He, Joe (unrepeatable whatever), then, and I went to school together. We both were supposed to train as ship mechanics at the Paxic Prime City Port Facility, but he decided that he wanted to see a bit of the Galaxy. Not surprising that, he was a bright fellow, and he felt hemmed in at home, I'm sure; his Old Man was a pushy guy, and his Mom liked to whack her boys' bottoms. He had three brothers to compete with, and one sister who was a handful, too, having learned at an early age to fight for her place in the sun. Joe met and married one classy lady on Space Station ASC, where he took his ship mechanic's training—but maybe you know her, too?”
“Indeed,” Coryn replied with a grin. “Jillian Ashton works as my Second-in-Command, at the Kordean-Confederation Liaison Agency, in Trahea, on the world Kordea. She's very competent, and, as you pointed out, a classy lady.”
“That sounds like a diplomatic posting,” said the fellow who Coryn figured must be the freighter's on-board mechanic. “I had the impression that Jill was in the espionage business. When they visited here—that's a while ago already—Joe said that he liked to help her with it during his time off.”
“She does do that,” Coryn conceded. “As do I. And Joe moonlights for our Office, and he's been invaluable. I suppose that you people haven't heard what's been happening on Kordea?”
“Not a chance,” muttered the cross-legged girl. “How would we know what's going on out in the big Galaxy when we're confined to hauling stuff to various Ports and Space Stations on a regular run which never varies, or gives us time to more than glance at our ports of call?”
“Rhyda, don't start complaining,” admonished the Captain. “Things could be a lot worse for you. You could be working in the mines, or else on an assembly-line in one of the factories. Neither of those jobs is exactly a plum, but there are a lot of them, and the bosses are constantly looking for new hirees.”
“I know about Kordea,” piped up Milo.
He cradled his instrument while sitting on the stool that had been provided for the purpose. All eyes turned to him.
He kept his on Coryn's face as he spoke:
“Kordea is the planet of the Witches, the Seven Sacred Circles of Witch-women who use the gems known as amartos to enhance their extra-sensory powers. It's also a world circling a star so hot that people stay indoors during the day time, and only go out at night, when Kordea's seven moons light up the night sky. The largest moon is called Lina, and she is always full, all night, every night. Recently, the ancient enemies of the Confederation, whom we know as The Organization, but who call themselves the Neotsarians, nearly succeeded in dislodging Lina from her orbit, how I'm not quite sure, but there were amartos involved. I understand that the Witches of Kordea, with the help of a Terran Scientist succeeded in scuttling the plan, with which the Neotsarians hoped to force the Kordeans to accept them as their rulers, and deliver into their hands the amazing ESP powers of the Witches.”
Milo stopped to draw a breath while the crew members stared at him.
“I presume that your Liaison Office had a hand in destroying The Organization's plan, Coryn,” Milo
finished. “No?”
“Close enough,” Coryn said. “And Jillian and Joe Ashton played an important part in keeping Kordea safe for Kordeans, and the venerable Witch-women as allies of the Confederation.
“But, Milo, let's hear some music.”
**
Since the freighter was a slow ship, over the next while Coryn had the opportunity to chat with the Captain, and a number of the crew. He also made friends with Milo, although the XER Authority kept to himself, and did not respond well to any overtures Coryn made in his direction.
Captain Mallory proved to be very competent at running a ship, and transporting valuable cargo to the Ports where it was dropped off. Many of the customers appeared to have standing orders for Paxic IV merchandise, and he was meticulous about keeping to his schedule. Coryn asked a few curious questions about the present run, the one to XER and back. He found out that the freighter carried a whole load of computer components and ship parts to XER, once a month.
“Wonder what they do with them?” he mused. “They can't possibly use them all on Station. They need the stuff in Ship Maintenance, of course, but that much a month? It seems excessive.”
The Captain shrugged.
“They're a trans-shipment point,” he said. “We unload the stuff into their warehouses, and someone else buys some of it from them. Their customers are most likely small places that don't need enough of the stuff to make it worth their while to order directly from us.”
“That sounds plausible,” Coryn agreed. “Flameworld is probably one such place. It's a sparsely populated planet with a small Space Port, and it's only an omega-jump from XER.”
Nevertheless, he could not help but wonder if some of the parts weren't making their way to The Organization Sector of the Galaxy. Not that the Neotsarians didn't have their own manufacturers, but it was clear from his conversations with the crew that the factories of Paxic IV considered keeping up with the latest developments in technology essential. They made sure to be aware of new ships' designs, and did their best to have the capability to produce the new components for them. This only made sense, the Captain claimed; they wanted to be the ones their established clients came to, when they needed newfangled parts.
Revenge of the Catspaw Page 12
