He also provided a little insurance. He had direct links with three of the individual researchers, and would be kept constantly apprised of any developments, as and when they took place. The research effort was to be shielded from the rest of ILGC, as the company went about its normal business, dealing in the diverse range of products it already produced.
Despite all this, Valdor was not content. He wanted to be sure that his hothouse was completely secure. He decided to take an extra safeguard and appoint Milnus's number two as Head of Security for the operation. In that way, he would have direct access, both inside and out. The time had come for the birth of a new idea and Valdor was to be its progenitor. He would worry about the Sirona if and when they showed up again.
Carr sat back to watch the seeds he had planted. If this came off, very little could stand in his way. Despite his low profile of the last few weeks, at last he was starting to feel as if he was back in control. The feeling was comfortable, and he sat back and finally allowed himself a smile.
Chapter Eight
Planetfall was in two days' time. Mahra felt a touch of excitement. She had never been in this sector of the system before. The world they were to visit had a reputation for tough conditions undercut by general lawlessness. She knew better than to appear curious, but she couldn't help wondering what dragged them to a world such as this.
For the last couple of days, the little she had seen of Sind had revealed him muttering to himself, and, if it was possible, surlier, and more withdrawn than usual. Pellis on the other hand was his normal effusive self, full of quips, striding about the ship as if he was on his way to a pleasure resort.
Half a day out, the mood changed and he called them both in to discuss requirements for the visit. They gathered in the rec room over the obligatory mugs of hot, bitter kahveh. The room was silent, except for the ship's gentle hum about them. Sind alternated between sipping from his mug and shaking his head, muttering. Finally, he could contain himself no longer and he exploded into speech.
"Look Timon, I don't understand the purpose of this little exercise. You and I both know what we need to do. So why are we wasting valuable time?"
"Just bear with me would you, Jayeer? There is a reason for everything, you know," said Pellis. He glanced meaningfully at Mahra before continuing. "The reason I've called us here is to be one hundred per cent certain that we know what we'll be up against, and what we need to do down there."
Sind raised his eyes ceilingward.
"Well there is no need to make a theatrical production of it. For God's sake — such drama. You and I both know what we'll be up against down there, and all she is required to do is to follow our lead."
"Ah, Jay. You're right to a certain extent, but you know as well as I do that Belshore is not the most hospitable place. Better to be forewarned than step into it blind, is it not? Especially if Mahra here will be watching our backs."
Sind gave Mahra a sidelong glance then looked down at the swirling liquid in his mug.
"Granted," he said, grudgingly.
"Belshore indeed," Timon continued. "Now, that is a misnomer if ever I heard one. Still, it is business we're here for and it was business we'll do. So, Mahra, tell me, have you ever had cause to stop off there?"
Mahra shook her head. Pellis looked toward Sind briefly with a told-you-so expression, then continued speaking.
"So, Jay, my friend, it is just as well to have this little chat." He turned back to face Mahra and spent a moment or two gathering his thoughts. "All right then. What can I tell you? For a start, there is nobody on Belshore who doesn't have a damned good reason for being there — even if it is just that they're unwelcome anywhere else. One thing you don't want to do down there, is get in anybody's way. They'll not thank you for it. On that note, there may be one or two down there whose purpose runs more than a little contrary to our own. If that turns out to be the case, we could find ourselves running into the slightest bit of bother. For that reason, I really do hope you know what you're doing. Because if you don't .... "
Timon fixed her with a probing look from beneath darkened brow. It was the most serious she had yet seen him.
"For now, you're just going to have to trust that I do, aren't you?" she said to both, returning Pellis's gaze unflinchingly.
Sind raised his eyes from his mug and peered through his thick lenses with a speculative look. He pursed his lips and returned to toying with his brew.
"All right then," said Pellis. "Once we're down there, we go nowhere alone. We stick together at all times. Keep your eyes open and, most of all, take nobody at face value. Hopefully we should be in and out of the place quickly — a couple of days at most. I don't intend to spend any longer on Belshore than we have to. If we get separated at any time, for whatever reason, rendezvous will be back at The Dark Falcon. We won't be taking a hotel. Too risky. Is everything clear?" Mahra and Sind nodded. "Good. We dock in about three hours, so if you have any questions, ask them now."
"What exactly are we doing down there?" asked Mahra, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.
Timon fixed her with a level stare. "Even if I did know, which I do not right at the moment, I don't think I'm ready to tell you. You signed on to do a job. So far, you haven't had much chance to do that job. You're pulling your weight aboard ship and you obviously know your way around, but that does not grant you a need to know. If you do need to know, then I'll tell you. Is that clear?"
Mahra nodded mutely, a little surprised by his tone. She wondered briefly what nerve she had apparently touched.
He watched her for a while longer, then stood and walked purposefully from the room. An awkward silence filled the air until Sind took one last swallow from his mug, pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and stood.
"You'd better start getting ready," he said, with a faint smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He watched her for a moment longer, then also turned and left.
"Well Chutz, what do you think about that?" she asked the zimonette, absently stroking him beneath the chin, her eyes still fixed on the door.
This was a side of Pellis she hadn't seen — all stern efficiency. One thing she knew for certain, this visit was certainly not going to be any holiday. She wasn't sure she knew what to make of Sind's little smile either. All very curious. Still pondering, she cleaned the mugs then left the rec room to prepare.
Back in her quarters, Mahra changed her clothes, swapping them for a dark weave suit. She had found in the past that psychologically, the dark suit seemed to give her more authority. Sometimes it was better to bluff your way out of a tight situation using simple presence rather than escalate into direct confrontation. As she strapped on her blade, she bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. Perhaps she had been spending too much time in the simulator and not enough on her own exercises. Mind, body, and blade sharp. She'd even been ignoring the ritual care of her blade with the new toy. She could redress the balance over the next few days. One last check, and she was satisfied. Feeling slightly nervous, she left her cabin to take up her station in the pod.
Mahra had made it a habit to be in full battle rig for both take-off and landing. That way she could appreciate the full majesty of planetfall with her senses unhampered by the restraints of the ship. It also gave her direct access to the approach and departure conversations between Pellis, Sind and whatever control existed on the worlds they visited. In a way, she also felt it was her duty to be in that position — part of the job. Most trouble for a solo ship was likely to occur in close proximity to a world rather than in the deeper reaches. It was one of the reasons for the complex defence and monitoring systems that circled their base on New Helvetica. No such controls were in evidence about Belshore.
The only communication between The Dark Falcon and Belshore involved flight trajectories and docking instructions. There were no checks, no security clearances, or customs declarations. It was in keeping, she supposed, for a world where it was said you could get anything you w
anted if the price was right. She felt excitement, but also trepidation as the darkened globe rushed toward her.
Traceries of light formed out of glowing clouds, then shaped into individual pinpricks, mapping out the surface contours. The major port was on the night side, making the landing all the more spectacular to her open senses. Two minor course adjustments on the way in and The Dark Falcon glided into a landing on a smooth open tract, delineated by rows of blue lights that marked the edges of the lengthened strip.
Mahra adjusted her perspective with difficulty. It was not easy to go from dealing with the vast image of planetfall to the narrowed viewpoint of her immediate surrounds. The set of green arrow lights trailed off in a huge curve to a point off to the side. They helped to focus her attention, and gradually she identified the regular shapes of low-slung buildings and the more rounded shapes of various parked craft. The normal configuration for a port would have the ships under cover. It was strange to see all these ships parked out in the open beside the large landing strip. Belshore had to have space to throw away if the designers could lay out a port such as this. From what she saw on the way in, the world was certainly large enough.
She unstrapped her harness after removing the helmet and gloves, stood, and bent her legs a few times to test her weight. No doubt about it, she felt marginally heavier — a touch of the heavies. She'd have to watch that when judging her reactions. Having skimped on her exercises wouldn't help. She was likely to became tired too quickly. Mahra cursed inwardly as she made her way down to join the others. It never did to take short cuts.
By the time she clambered down to join them, Sind and Pellis were already at the main lock. Sind was grumbling something about port charges and Pellis, as usual, was vainly trying to placate him.
She joined them in the lock just as the outer door slid open. Maintenance crews in coloured coveralls moved about their tasks, trading cracks with each other as they negotiated their way between the parking ships. Utility vehicles topped by flashing lights whirred along as they crossed from one area to another across the slick, smooth expanse. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of fuels and lubricant. Traceries of white vapour curled up from grates scattered between the assorted dark shapes of ships at rest. The signs of activity made it no different from any port she had ever seen. Steps had already been wheeled into place and they descended, metal creaking beneath the weight of their feet.
A service tech met them at the bottom with a comp in one hand and the other stretched out toward them. The tech rolled his eyes as Sind fished about in his pocket, finally located his card, and dropped it into the outstretched palm. The tech peered at the card, then swiped it across his reader and stood waiting for the green verification light, before handing it back.
"Criminal," muttered Sind.
"Yeah, ain't it just?" The tech grinned from behind his beard. He gave a mock salute and flourish, then turning, wandered off, his interest in them at an end.
They followed Pellis's lead, out of the port buildings and up to a waiting line of trans-cabs. Moving up to the head of the line Pellis wandered over to the lead trans and knocked on the window. The driver peered at him and then each of them in turn before nodding his head. Only after he had received the nod, did Timon open the rear door and clamber in.
Timon obviously knew where they were going, because he gave the driver an address and detailed instructions about the route he wanted him to take to get them there. He politely added the suggestion that they didn't want a tour of the entire world in the process. Sind was still muttering about unnecessary expenses as they accelerated away from the port.
"There you go as usual, Jay. Couldn't you do something more useful than counting the creds? Such a waste of a mathematical mind," Pellis said. He rolled his eyes with mock despair. "Did you expect anything else?" he asked. "We're on Belshore. Supply and demand, Jay, supply and demand."
Sind snorted and turned his thick lenses to watch the passing streets. Peering through the plas into the darkness herself, Mahra tried to pick out the buildings and the sights as they raced by. The architecture echoed a grand style, overblown and opulent, but certainly not contemporary. Again, it was nothing like she had imagined it would be. The streets were clean and wide. Here and there she saw tracks of decay, but nothing to suggest the level of barbarity hinted at by Timon and Sind both. Perhaps it was just too dark to see the real signs.
The area was only sparsely populated. The odd pedestrian appeared from the gloom, rushing on his or her way, disappearing into the murk as the trans whisked past them. Their driver headed gradually away from the port environs, and the pattern changed. The number of people began to swell and with the increase came a general slowing of the frantic pace. The buildings grew more modern, and the streets narrow as they moved further in to a denser centre of habitation. Instead of the solitary individuals she had seen before, they all seemed to cluster together, moving as groups. After travelling a few more blocks, Mahra couldn't find a single inhabitant walking alone. She noticed something else as well. There were large well-built individuals who accompanied many of the pedestrians. Perhaps the place was not so secure after all.
As the byways became narrower and more congested, the trans-cab slowed, negotiating the growing traffic.
Suddenly, Mahra was thrown forward and found herself in a crumpled heap on the floor between Sind's knees. Quickly, she dragged herself back up to her seat. She was just in time to see the reason for their abrupt deceleration. Standing in the middle of the street, dead in front of the trans-cab, was a wild-eyed youth, hands outstretched toward them. In one hand was some form of projectile weapon. For a frozen instant, Mahra took in his wildly flowing hair, stained clothing, and grey pallor.
She locked gazes with him, sensing fear, and something else, something that merely bordered on the edges of sanity. She felt a question there, drawing the instant out as his weapon wavered from one side then to the other, then back again. His eyes locked with hers and, very slowly, he grinned. At that instant, Mahra knew exactly what he was going to do.
"Down!" she yelled, grabbing Pellis and Sind by their suits and dragging them both to the floor.
Mahra watched as her intuition was fulfilled, telescoping into slow motion. The youth's finger inexorably tightened on the trigger; a cloud of vapour escaped from the weapons' tubular end and a small metal projectile sped toward them with astonishing velocity. She barely heard the report that followed a fraction later. Her reflexes seemed to have slowed in comparison to the actions playing themselves out in front; actions with her as the focus.
She was just pulling her head down behind the protective moulding of the seat in front, when the projectile impacted the front screen right in line with her eyes. There was a sharp bang as it hit. The plas starred at the point of impact and the distorted metal slug dropped away, bounced on the front of the vehicle with a metallic clang, then disappeared out of sight to the street below.
Mahra stopped herself in the middle of the defensive crouch, eyes still fixed on the wild-eyed youth. A puzzled look crept over his face, then quickly disappeared. Still grinning, he broke eye contact, tossed his head back and gave a massive whoop before turning and sprinting down an alleyway, long tangled tresses and ragged coat trailing behind him. The crowd parted to let him through, one or two reaching protectively for their own weapons, but mostly just eager to get out of his way.
"Stupid fuckin' duster." complained the driver. "Now look what he done. Near put a hole in my screen. Just you look at that. I tell you, no stupid driver me. Put in special plas. Stupid fool. Damn near run him over I did."
Still shaking his head, he ran his finger over the inside of the screen surface to make sure the damage was only superficial. Finally satisfied, he slid back up his seat and started the trans-cab back on its way as if nothing unusual had happened. Pellis and Sind pulled themselves up off the floor and resumed their seats. They took a moment or two to straighten their clothing. Pellis was the first to say anything.
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"Thanks, Mahra, quick thinking. It could have been worse."
"Yes, thank you," said Sind, obviously with some effort and without making eye contact.
"Yeah well, all part of the job," she answered flippantly. "So, tell me, what did he mean by 'duster'?"
Timon explained. "Cloud crystal. Crazy dust if you like. Crazy 'dust', hence the 'duster'. It's one of the newer designer recs. I've not seen it myself, but I'm not all that surprised to see it on Belshore. Looks like it is not one of the friendlier designers either." He turned to the driver. "Is there a lot of it about then?"
"The dust? Oh yeah man, there be plenty. Don't even have to go lookin' you know. Real bad it is. Soon it will go away. They all be dyin' or get killed soon enough. Then we get a new one, you know. Maybe the next one not be so fuckin' aggressive."
Pellis sat back in his seat and looked thoughtful.
"Aren't we going to do anything about that, Timon?" Mahra asked, a little surprised at the complacency being shown by her companions.
"No point at all," Pellis said and shrugged his shoulders. "This is Belshore," he continued, as if those three words explained everything.
Mahra sat back. She'd watch and see. Obviously, she was going to get nothing more from Pellis.
Belshore was covered with urban sprawl. Some of it lay in ruins, some nestled in verdant landscape or ranged to tall sky-scraping blocks. At one time, it was a rich and prosperous world, and she could see echoes of that bygone glory in the odd palatial edifice squatting between the haphazard plas and steel of modern growth. The port served as the hub of its scattered population. So those who curried their existence from the trade tended to cluster about that source. The population radiated out from the centre like a poisoning of the arterial blood that served it.
The Jump Point Page 9
