She hardly believed such a plea could come from a Sentient. She glanced over at Rndeel’s back but, no. How could he be inserting this message onto her screen? And something about it rang true. It fit Arlai’s personality.
She drew the ragged tatters of her nerves together and focused on the job yet to be done, shoving aside all other thoughts. “AH right, Rndeel, I’ll go down with you. I’ll make it.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke. Fear was becoming her perpetual companion.
Five hours later, they inserted into Cassr orbit under local orbital control and announced themselves as here to trade Sentient parts for pharmacogenetics from Trassle.
It only took Arlai an hour to arrange with his Sentient friend in Cassr Port Authority to let him take over some of her port-of-entry duties, such as the idento-scanners at clerk’s counters. At Krinata’s amazement, he said, “I just told her I get terribly bored sitting in orbit waiting for cargo. She knows I ‘used to be’ an Oliat Sentient, accustomed to being too busy to be bored. So even though it’s bending the rules, she agreed to help me out. Of course, I did bribe her with an info-dump from our last mission, but I’m sure that had little to do with it.”
“I think I get the picture,” said Krinata. She hadn’t realized the higher-level Sentients were so sociable, but it made sense. They were people of a sort.
When they reached the port-of-entry desk at Cassr’s central landing field, the bored Cassrian clerk came alive. “Trassle. Trassle—I’ve heard that name.”
Rndeel offered, “He be owin’ us cargo fera year, and we a’come collectin’ now. Doubt not, he be remiss in other deals, and you’d his name nestin’ among others’ curses.” He fondled the piol with a pure Skhe gesture.
Much to Krinata’s amazement, the pup hadn’t messed onthem, or wandered away, or clawed their clothing since Arlai presented him. The Sentient was one terrific trainer.
The Cassrian clicked one shelled forearm against his carapace in a gesture of retrieving a memory. But after a moment, he allowed, “Could be that’s it. Trassle. Common enough name.” He added their certification from the scanner beam controlled by Arlai and closed their files with a flourish
“Next.”
They were free on Cassr. At the door to the surface transport,
Krinata donned goggles. Arlai had already weighted her down with radiation shielded underwear, insisting she was young enough to have healthy children. Since she had given up that idea long ago, she’d not even considered it when debating the excursion onto Cassr. As they emerged into the searing light, not a speck of her skin was exposed.
Thankfully, it was winter here, and cold enough to make her grateful for the underwear. The weight of it also served to change her overall shape and her gait. She weighed less than normal, but her mass was greater, so she moved ponderously, trying not to think of herself as comical.
They had hours of daylight left in the long winter afternoon, for the planet’s day was over thirty-three hours long, the season more than a year long. Cassr was not a hospitable place for humans, so only those with urgent business would be aground. Rndeel, with the cosmopolitan touch she was learning to take for granted, got them into a rented vehicle and onto the road as if he were going home.
Imp perched on Rndeel’s lap and cluttered for Krinata’s attention, but didn’t grab for her hair as he had been wont to do. Absently, she petted the beast and asked, “You said Trassle has a warehouse near here?”
“A few moments being in this car, we’ll arrive, Captain. Alert to that cheater, must we be.”
“I hear your advice.” Her heart was pounding, and she wanted to go over their careful plan. If all went well, they’d be offplanet within the hour.
They swerved around a bend, and the car veered to the side of the street and stopped, pinging for attention. “Police barricade ahead. All traffic diverted from Cossrrik Alley. Please enter a new destination or depart.”
Rndeel inserted their credit chit to be debited for the ride, and said, “Request to wait for us here one hour.”
Outside, Rndeel said. “Captain, be there only one occupied building on Cossrrik Alley: Trassle’s.”
They walked around a bend—nothing on Cassr was cornered—and saw official barricades set across the alley strewn with flags bearing the symbol Krinata had quickly come to recognize: the dark blue x on a white background—Dushau traitor. Dark blue xs were painted over the doors and windows of the domed building.
Rndeel started forward, but Krinata restrained him with a hand on his elbow. He was wearing the fur cloak, only the crossed belts under it, with the slick shrinksuit of the Skhe disguise. Dushau weren’t nearly so sensitive to cold or radiation as humans. “We don’t want to attract attention.”
“Findin’ Trassle, my Captain, is *ur purpose.”
“Well, obviously, they’ve confiscated his goods. Ostensibly, we’re here for his goods, not him. So if we ask, we’ll be bound to deal with the government and ignore Trassle. Don’t you know anyplace else you might find him?”
Rndeel tossed Imp in a somersault, and the piol squealed in delight, then preened himself. The Skhe said, “He once lived south of city, by the river. I’m knowing the house.”
“Then let’s go. We can come back if we have to.”
“A prudent human, you’re being, Captain,” said the Skhe with grudging approval. She’d noticed he never swore at her or human characteristics.
Back in their car, Rndeel gave instructions. After a scenic tour of the heart of the city’s swirling streets, they wound out of the settled area and into a wilderness dotted with an occasional dwelling.
Bright clean pastels and vivid primary colors mixed riotously under the searingly brilliant sun. The vegetation was pale, some leaves mirroring back most of the light to dazzle offworld eyes. Trassle’s house was atop a rutted hillock overlooking a broad river. An inlet from the river washed up to a wing of the house that rambled down the hill.
“Ah, a proper livin’ place,” breathed Rndeel in Skhe delight. “Not supposin’ we’d be with time to swim, Captain?”
The hope in his voice was very real, but Krinata knew Jindigar had no such intentions. However, she wasn’t sure Jindigar was really still “in there” with Rndeel, and in a fit of insecurity, she tested him. “Of course we might. If Trassle isn’t home, we’ll wait.”
He threw her a peculiar glance, but said only, “Your judgment, Captain, but still targets be easier to hit. We’ve competition in this business.”
She mulled that over and decided the Dushau was still rational, but playing his part to the hilt. She stopped the car and led the way up to the entry. It was a black hole at the top of a winding stair. It turned out to be a long, winding tunnel, mirror lined, well lit, warm, but dim after the glare of the outdoors. It led to the top of the house where it opened into a large atrium, skylighted and filled with offworld plants. Before them was a hinged door overgrown with a thick, spongy moss.
She looked about, having never been in a Cassrian home before. “Isn’t there a signal?”
“You be standing on it, Captain.”
She stared at her feet. She was on a section of moss inset into the tile flooring.
“The part plant on other side of the door is turning color now, telling visitors be here. Then—”
A more modern electronic sound interrupted—a scanner. Then a very reedy Cassrian voice, obviously untrained to standard speech, announced irritably, “The Trassle Trading Company went out of business this morning. Creditors can see the Count’s governor.”
“We’re not creditors!” called Krinata before the speaker could click off. “We’re friends of Trassle.”
Another untrained voice said, “Not any we know. Identify yourselves or get off our property.”
Very quietly, but still in Skhe accent, Rndeel said, “Jindigar sent us to help.”
“That kind of help—”
Another voice, trained to the single-toned modulation of Standard speech, said, “Let’s hear them f
irst. Let them in.”
Krinata could almost see silent objections exchanged by gesture, but then the door swung open into a huge, tumbled and chaotic room.
Stepping in behind Krinata, Rndeel swore fiercely, and demanded, “Trassle, what be happening here?”
“Vandals, maybe,” answered the cultured, trained voice. It came from a middle-aged Cassrian dressed in tough hiking clothes, but his decorated carapace gleaming. The others, Krinata noted, were similarly dressed, and amid the clutter and disarray she found several carrysacks half-packed.
Rndeel said, “Privacy shields working?”
“How do we know,” asked the elder female with the untrained voice, “that you aren’t sent by the Count to collect evidence that we’re traitors?”
Trassle said, “They’ve already got all the evidence they need. Now, you. Who are you, Lady Captain?” He gestured to Krinata.
She looked to Rndeel. They hadn’t discussed how to play this, but the Skhe was peering about at the room not showing any sign of introducing himself as he had with the Dushau. She assumed he felt they might be overheard here, whereas on the ship, where she could issue an order the crew was bound to obey, they’d actually had privacy. This place had been invaded, probably by the Count’s order. Any sort of surveillance devices could be snooping on them now.
“I’m a fugitive of the same law you’ve run afoul of,” said Krinata. “And I know where Jindigar is. He’s found a place for us to wait this out, and invites you all to come with us.”
Suddenly, they were all talking at once, the two adults, the four children. Trassle pierced through the cacophony with a whistle, then said, “We’ve got to make a quick decision. They could sweep in here at any moment.” To Krinata, he added, “We were going to lose ourselves in the wilderness. But you’re saying you can get us offplanet?”
“There are risks,” she warned.
“People’re dyin’ everywhere,” said Rndeel, “just for givin’ a friendly orbit to a Dushau. We be plannin’ a run through the fire to safety, an’ be glad o’the company.”
“Offplanet, where? I’ve got my children to think of. Cassrians don’t survive well everywhere.”
“Jindigar says,” said Rndeel, “you be uncomfortable where we be goin’: bit more gravity, bit less light, swifter seasons, shorter days—but not more than Cassrian colonists adapt. Children be to thrive.”
Trassle twitched his head to focus on his wife. She said fretfully, “I wish now you’d never saved Jindigar from that radiation leak.”
“Don’t talk that way. You’d have done the same if you’d seen a Dushau hauling people out of a lander crash, and then collapsing in there himself. And I was steward for that flight. It was my job. We’d never have had all this,” he gestured at the house, “if it hadn’t been for Jindigar helping us after I couldn’t work anymore.”
“I know,” she replied, picking things up and putting them down randomly. “It’s just… how can we leave Cassr?”
Trassle examined the two visitors somberly while his eldest child went to comfort his wife, and the other three fought over packing. “It’s come to a time for leaving homes.” He nodded, a practiced imitation of the human gesture of assent. “We’ll go with you, but only if you can prove you’re really from Jindigar.”
Again Krinata looked to Rndeel, expecting him to reveal himself. But perhaps he wouldn’t to spare Trassle’s wife the embarrassment, after what she’d said. Rndeel quietly mentioned the sum of money the family still owed Jindigar. Krinata paled. He certainly hadn’t earned that much from Oliat fees. But then he was a prince.
Decisively, the merchant extracted a viewer from a watertight pack. “No matter what, get this to Jindigar. It proves Rantan Zinzik himself caused the food shortages on space stations and conspired with the Tri-Species Combine to set up their ‘secession’ from the Allegiancy so he could ‘solve’ the problem and be acclaimed Emperor.”
“What?” Rndeel triggered the reader display and stared.
Krinata stared over his shoulder at the affidavits. They seemed genuine. Could this be why Zinzik was so intent on creating domestic chaos? So he could accuse anyone who came forth with this evidence of being a Dushau sympathizer and have them executed? No! It would mean the Allegiancy had fallen into the hands of a criminal.
“Be it he unhas sanity,” commented Rndeel, glumly. “Where ‘ur be find this?”
“The Interstellar Merchant Trust began investigating because we were accused of causing the shortages by not delivering on contracts. There are ten copies—one of them has to come to public—”
Just then a roar shook the house. The female clutched her young children to her while Trassle and his eldest, a male, dove down a spiral ramp. Their voices rose up the well. “Six of the Count’s armed landers are settling in front of the house!”
Rndeel glanced hesitantly at Trassle’s wife, then shot down the rampway, tying the viewer to his harness. Krinata was close behind. Below, a room lined with instruments was filled with light. The image of the front of the house from outside was projected on a round platform, and Krinata could see clearly the six military vehicles converging on them. The first to ground was already disgorging Cassrians.
“Be a river exit?” asked Rndeel.
“And a bottomship we’d planned to use.”
“They be blocking our car,” Rndeel said. “We to use your ship.”
Stricken, Trassle stared at Rndeel. Then he tore up the ramp and threw down packs, sending his family down after them. The eldest son picked up a pack, and set off towing the youngest son. In moments, they were in a dark, down-spiraling, damp tunnel leading into a boathouse where a small submersible was tied beside a sailing craft. Trassle pushed his family into the bottomship, and turned to Krinata. “Quickly, Lady Captain.”
They could hear shouts as the upper door was broken in. Rndeel grasped Krinata’s elbow and propelled her into the submersible where the oldest son already had instruments singing in audible Cassrian code. As Trassle secured the hatch, Rndeel shoved Imp into Krinata’s hands, swung into the helmsman’s seat and set them to sinking.
The craft was a mere pleasure boat: transparent domed, plushly appointed. Krinata held her breath as water burbled up over her head, then forced herself to breath the flower-scented air now laced with Skhe stink.
Trassle moved to the-helm. “Thank you, I’ll take it.”
Rndeel turned to look up at the Cassrian. “With your permission, bottomship Captain, I’m being greatly experienced with such craft, and no pleasure jaunt be facing us.”
“But how can you read…”
Rndeel turned back to the helm and whistled something in the clicking shrieks of Cassrian language. That stopped Trassle, but Krinata could see how sorely puzzled he was. A Skhe wouldn’t have hearing in the Cassrian range. Apparently, the onboard Sentient wasn’t smart enough to switch navigation codes, so Jindigar had to talk to it in its own language. Perhaps Arlai was helping? Trassle sat beside Krinata, clicking to his wife who huddled shaking.
Again Krinata eyed the transparent dome. One hit would rupture them. “They’ll question the house Sentient,” Krinata said. “They’ll find out we just left, and where we went.”
“No,” said Trassle. “I disarmed our Sentient when I heard my property had been seized. They’re programmed to be loyal to the Allegiancy.”
Rndeel called over his shoulder, “Captain-my-Lady, we pass deep banks now. Is time to contact Arlai, send lander to us, no?”
The dry clutch of fear in her throat had kept her from breathing, let alone thinking. She felt like such a fool as she unlimbered her special leptolizer and triggered Arlai’s beam signal. He appeared, in his Dushau simulacrum rather than the human one he’d used to deal with the Port Authority. “Krinata, Rndeel. Something has gone wrong. I have reports of forces dispatched to Trassle’s—”
“We know,” said Krinata, and recapped their situation. “Is there a place you can send us a lander?”
“Twen
ty-seven minutes if I pull out the one on the ground at the port. A couple of hours to send another down.”
Rndeel gave a Skhe fatalistic shrug. “Captain, I vote pull it. Soon be discovering our trail and identities even we not do suspicious with our lander.”
“This is not a democracy, Mr. Rndeel,” said Krinata. “But you’re right. Arlai, get the grounded lander here/as/, but don’t get shot down. We’re stuck without you.”
Rndeel asked, “Arlai, be showin’ a glimpse of what’s going on above us?”
Arlai’s image dissolved. The scene over the river was clear in miniature. The house was surrounded by grounded landers; several hovercraft floated above the roof. The sod-cover teemed with Cassrians in the Count’s uniform, carrying weapons and detectors. Squads of them were beginning to work toward the water. As they watched, two Cassrians streaked out of the boathouse, waving at their superiors.
The bottomship was up to speed now, stirring mud and river creatures around them in a halo. But they were hardly into the main channel of the broad river. Arlai had marked their position with a blip. They weren’t going to get away.
For the third time since she’d last slept, Krinata gave herself up for dead. Adrenaline was surging to overcome her fatigue, and she was shaking physically and emotionally.
In the projection before them, the running Cassrians held a brief conference with their officers, and then the officers sent the hovercraft to overfly the river. Arlai added another piece of good cheer. “Orbital searchers are being targeted at your area. They must be after you.”
Rndeel coaxed more speed out of the bottomship, and said over his shoulder, “Hoping all you folks can swim. Arlai, being we don’t make it, be hopin’ you get others away safe.”
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