by Allen Wold
"The hell with the hotel," he said, "let's get out of here."
Mensenear
Mensenear is a Federation world, in a system near the border with the Abogarn Hegemony. It is an important commercial world, populated mostly by Humans but with a substantial minority of other species. Most of these come from the Federation but a few originate in the Hegemony. This multispecies nature is especially true in Mensenear's larger cities, of which Three Rivers is the most important. It is here that most extraplanetary commerce takes place, where foreign, extraplanetary, and extra-Federal legations have their offices. Thus it is not unusual to see beings of a variety of forms, and each form from a variety of cultures, not only in the shuttleports but in the streets, hotels, and even restaurants.
Rikard drew no undo attention, being Human and, here, wearing clothes more or less of the same style as a typical Federation traveler. His leathers would have been too outlandish, and would have drawn the attention of the police, who recognized that such clothes were usually worn by those adventurers called Gestae. He still wore the meshmail underneath, just as a precaution, but his gun was carefully packed away in an extradimensional compartment in one of his smaller bags.
Grayshard, still swathed in his concealing robes, hood, and goggles, did not get even a curious glance. Though his attire was atypical for this world, it was no stranger than might often be seen near the starport. And while he appeared humanoid, his movements were too obviously unhuman, and so, as an alien, he was allowed greater liberty of dress.
But Endark Droagn was strange, even for a sophisticated and multispecies city like this. No other race in Three Rivers was as big as he, none were in the least serpentine, and though there were several sentients with four or more arms, they were not so decidedly muscular. And they wore domes, not just the harness that served Droagn as a place to hang his pockets. He drew a lot of unwanted attention, and it was with some relief that the three found themselves at last on their way up to their hotel suite at the top of the city, with only four professionally uncurious service people to handle their luggage, including Rikard's large 4D trophy case.
It was a long ride up, even on a limited service elevator. Rikard and Grayshard sat in comfortable chairs, a low table with a vase of flowers between them. Droagn coiled in the middle of the floor. The bellhops, three men and a woman, stood by the doors with the luggage on three floats. There was no sense of movement, but a large display to the left of the wide double door showed interesting symbolic pictures as they passed each group of floors. When, after not quite two minutes, the picture showed a stylized skyline, the door opened and they got out.
The lobby, tastefully and expensively decorated and furnished, was rather small, only some six by six meters. Opposite the elevator was the main entrance, a double door of wood panels, plain but perfectly stained and finished. To the left was an open closet. Immediately beside the elevator to the left was a service door, almost unnoticeable in its plainness. And to the right, a double glass door opened onto a balcony that overlooked the city. There were several comfortable chairs, low tables in the corners, and plants in elegant pots and containers, some on the floor, some on wrought metal stands.
One of the hotel men opened the front door for them and stood to one side as Rikard and his companions went into a large, well-furnished, and rather formal parlor. Windows on the right overlooked the same balcony as the lobby. There was a formal dining room across from the entrance, large enough to seat a dozen people. There was a closed double door to the left and a bathroom beside the lobby entrance. The furnishings, compared to the lobby, were as a wealthy collector's living room might be, compared to an average person's supplied from the mass market. It was absolutely unostentatious, and overwhelming in its taste and quality. Rikard tried to pretend that he was used to such things.
The other bellhops brought in the luggage, and the man who had let them in offered to help unpack.
"Thank you," Rikard said, "but that won't be necessary. We have special needs that only we know how to take care of."
The chief bellhop inclined his head, and they left the floaters in the middle of the parlor.
The double doors opposite the windows led into a rather less formally furnished living room, with a windowed el to the right at the far end. Opposite the parlor door was a broad hallway that led to the bedroom suites. Droagn took the largest of the three, which was barely big enough, while Rikard and Grayshard, in the smaller suites, felt like they were rattling around.
At the back of the hall was a foyer, with glass doors on two sides that gave access to a patio in the corner of the building and the balcony that surrounded the apartment on three sides. From there they could see the whole city below them, though clouds obscured part of their view, and they were high enough so that some stars showed, even at midday. There was no smog, and the temperature, though cool, was well regulated.
Rikard went back to his room and took out his gun and holster, which he slung over his shoulder, and his gloves, which he tucked into his belt, and another device, the size and shape of a small computer. He flipped down the front panel, which contained a keyboard and trackball, revealing a complex graphics screen. He turned it on and the device floated by itself, just above waist level.
The screen was blank at first. He touched a couple keys and an image formed, showing a 3D wire-frame picture of the room and everything in it, including himself, and everything just behind the walls. Using the trackball he rotated the image, then tipped it to look at the ceiling. There was a red spot, on the ceiling, right over the bed.
He brought up a bull's-eye cursor, selected the red spot, and a secondary window opened on the screen with a data readout. It was a sonic bug, probably just a standard hotel security and safety device. Rather than try to remove it Rikard took another small object from one of his cases, with the appearance of a pocket radio, as which, in fact, it could function if need be. He put it down on the nightstand by the bed, then brought the security monitor over. He selected both the bug spot and the camouflage device, selected commands from pull-down menus to focus the radio's signal on the bug. He turned the radio on and, watching the security monitor, said, "This is a really great room."
Dialogues on the screen told him that the bug had picked up his words, as it was supposed to. He then whispered, "I like it a lot." A marquee on the screen reported that an alternate message had been sent, and a window opened to show the text, "It reminds me of home," which was what the radio had tight-beamed directly to the bug, overriding Rikard's whispered words. Whenever he spoke in a normal voice, the bug would hear, but anything said below a certain level would be covered by something innocuous, delivered at the same effective volume. It could produce as many different voices as there were people speaking.
Satisfied, he took the security monitor over to the comcon, jacked it into the optional headset, and ran through another check, using trackball, menus, and keyboard. The screen showed a complex diagram that changed with every instruction. As far as he could tell the whole system was secure, but just to be safe he got another device from his electronics case and plugged it into the phone instead of the headset. Now, if anybody were to use any indirect form of tapping, he would know, and would be able to provide cover when he needed to.
He did a general scan of the other rooms in his suite, especially the bathroom, but found nothing else. Then he went down the hallway, scanning as he went, and knocked at Grayshard's door. There was no answer so he went in. He found another sonic bug over the bed, which he left alone, and then went across to Droagn's door. It was ajar, so he went in, scanning the entrance and closet as he did so. After all, someone such as he, viewed by many as a criminal, could not hope to continually slip through the cracks of the law without taking certain precautions.
The sitting room was clean, but the bedroom was a shambles. Droagn had moved all the furniture up against the walls. He had the mattresses off the beds and onto the floor, to make a space big enough for him to lie on, but
it didn't look like it was going to work. "What are you finding? he asked.
"That you've made a mess of things," Rikard said. He showed Droagn the display on the security monitor. Droagn saw the red spot of the sonic bug and nodded.
"Do you suppose they'd send up some extra mattresses? he asked, and waved one hand at the comcon.
"Call and find out," Rikard suggested, making an OK sign with his hand as he did so.
"I can't," Droagn said. "I can't speak the language."
And of course the bug couldn't pick up his projecting either—though other, more sophisticated devices might. Rikard ran through a whole new series of tests, while Droagn recited a simple childhood poem, about swallowing rats, over and over again. Nothing showed. Rikard gave the OK sign again. "I'll do it for you," he said, and using Droagn's comcon, he did so.
"They'll be a few minutes," he said when he hung up. "Kind of make this look neat, will you?" Droagn bared his fangs, and Rikard went into the living room.
Grayshard was sitting on a sofa, glancing through a hard-copy magazine. He looked as though he'd been dropped onto the sofa from a great height, kind of bent in the wrong places and sagging the way no Human could sag. Rikard did a scan, found no bugs. Those in the bedrooms were probably a safety precaution against night accidents.
"Can I take off my clothes?" Grayshard asked.
"They're going to be bringing some extra mattresses up for Droagn. Can you wait a bit?"
Grayshard sagged a little lower and turned a page.
Rikard took his security monitor through a smaller, personal dining room into the kitchen, through the formal dining room and parlor into the lobby, then through the bathroom that served both the parlor and the living room. Everything was clean, even the little bar off the living room. He turned off the monitor, set it down on the counter, and checked out the stock.
Before he could choose anything the door chimed. It was the mattresses, six of them carried on a float directed by three staff. They were a bit apprehensive when they saw the bolstered gun that was still hanging from Rikard's shoulder, and left the mattresses in the lobby. Rikard went to tell Droagn, then chose a local beer from the cooler in the bar and watched as Droagn carried all six mattresses under his lower arms back to his room.
"Now may I undress?" Grayshard asked.
Rikard sipped his beer. "Want something to eat?" he asked in return.
"Very much so. Will we have to send out?"
"Probably."
Just then Droagn came back from his room carrying a number of objects. By the parlor door he stood a kind of walking stick. On a table by the dining-room door he put an inverted teardrop of crystal. On the counter in the bar he put a thing made of three chrome rings at right angles with spikes projecting from the intersections. "How's that?" he asked.
"Just fine," Rikard said. Each of the items was a special weapon, which Rikard had had built to Droagn's specifications, and had modified so that he, Droagn, or Grayshard could each use them with equal ease. He took the holster from his shoulder and hung it, with the gloves, in plain sight on the back of a chair in front of a desk that stood in the window el. "But somehow I don't think we're going to need them."
"It never hurts to be safe," Grayshard said. "If we're going to order, let's do it please. I'd like to get out of this rig"
"Let's see what we've got here first," Rikard said. He went into the kitchen and checked out the stocks. There was light snack food and beverages in plenty, but he was hungry, and there was nothing to satisfy either Grayshard or Droagn. He dropped his empty beer into the cycler and opened another from the refrigerator. "Any preferences?" he called to the other two as he punched room service on the kitchen comcon.
"They haven't got it," Droagn said. Grayshard said nothing. Ordering his own meal was easy, but it took some discussion before room service understood what he wanted for his companions. By then he was into his third beer and beginning to unwind a bit. When he went into the living room Grayshard was still slumped on the sofa, and Droagn was coiled on the floor by the el.
"If I don't get fed soon," he said, "I'll eat a bellhop.
"Can they serve me?" Grayshard asked. "I would rather not have any more canned rations."
"I think so," Rikard said, "but they didn't sound like they liked it."
He sat down by the living-room comcon, which was conveniently located next to the bar. He took an LCD card from his shirt pocket, turned it on, skipped through several screens until he came to the number he wanted, then made a call.
"This is Jack Begin," he said when his call was answered. "I'd like to speak to Msr. Nevile Beneking, please."
"I'm sorry," the person on the other end said, "but Msr. Beneking can't be reached at this time."
"I was given this number," Rikard said. "I was told that he would be interested in 'refound commodities.'"
"I see. Just a moment please." Rikard waited. "You may try this number." The voice gave it to him. Rikard noted it on his LCD card.
He punched the new number. Droagn uncoiled and went into the bar. The call was answered. "I'd like to speak with Msr. Nevile Beneking, please," Rikard said.
"I'm sorry, Msr. Beneking does not wish to be disturbed."
"Forgive me for intruding," Rikard said, "but I have merchandise for sale, in which I'm sure Msr. Beneking would be interested. Would you please give him that message, and my number?"
"Msr. Beneking does not usually respond to phone solicitations."
"I'm sure," Rikard said, "but remember the guy who came off the Tschagan station? The one with four arms? Well I have some more of his things, tell Msr. Beneking that."
"Very well," the voice said, with very little enthusiasm, and Rikard broke the connection.
He sipped his beer. Droagn came out of the bar with a pitcher of water from which he sipped without a glass—it was about the right size for him—and coiled in the middle of the floor, looking at Rikard. Grayshard twitched. The comcon rang. Rikard smiled and answered.
"Msr. Begin," the woman on the other end said, "I represent Msr. Beneking, returning his call. Where can we talk?"
The front door rang. Grayshard pulled himself together—literally—and went to answer it.
"I'd be glad to talk anywhere," Rikard said into the comcon, "just so long as I can guarantee security."
Two service people came through the living room with a cart, under Grayshard's supervision, and began to set up in the smaller dining room.
"We appreciate your concern," the agent told him. "Is it possible to see some of this fellow's merchandise?"
"Of course," Rikard said, "that's why I called." Aromas began to drift from the dining room, some mouthwatering, others less so. "I'm most concerned that a proper buyer be found."
"Msr. Beneking is very good at that. Perhaps you can give me an indication as to the kinds of refound commodities you have for sale.''
"Sculptures," Rikard said as the two service people, looking rather pale, left the dining room. "Paintings, a few. Books."
"Books, did you say?"
"Yes, electronic. I don't have the right equipment to read them, they're very old, but I've seen a few pages." Droagn went into the dining room with Grayshard.
"I'm sure Msr. Beneking can arrange to have translators ready. How much material are we speaking of?"
"Enough to make it worth both our whiles. Where and when can we meet?"
"The Museum of Natural History, Alien Environments entrance. How about three this afternoon?"
"Okay," Rikard said. "I was just about to have lunch." Then he listened a while longer as the agent gave him explicit instructions. Then he disconnected and went to join his companions.
The table was set, and Droagn and Grayshard were waiting for him. Rikard had a steak, baked yellow topers, fresh green telins, and a salad. At Droagn's place was a very large slab of very red meat, very fresh and still bleeding, and a bowl of assorted fruit. In front of Grayshard was a tureen from which the less pleasant smells were co
ming. It contained a frothy mass, rather grayish brown, slightly bubbling.
"Now may I undress?" Grayshard asked.
"We've got a couple hours," Rikard told him. "Make yourself comfortable."
Grayshard unbuckled his jacket and the swathings around his head. Inside was a dense mass of white fibers, like coarse horsehair, writhing and red-tipped, hanging in the basket frame that formed his body. Great bundles of fibers went down the arms and legs of his disguise. As the jacket fell aside, clusters of fibers twitched at joints and connections, so that the metallic skeleton became rigid. He kept only the vocalizer. He had no limbs, though bundles of fibers could serve, if weakly, in their place. There were no organs, no top or bottom, just a huge naked myceleum, massing nearly as much as a Human. Grayshard pulled himself out of his now self-standing disguise and dropped to the floor, then slithered across it to the chair he'd chosen and into it. He immersed several thousand fiber ends into the mass of fermenting material in the tureen and started to absorb it. "Not bad," he said through his vocalizer. "Were you able to get ahold of the dealer?"
"It's all set up," Rikard said. "Do we take the whole case? Droagn asked.
"Might as well," Rikard said, "but we'll go fully armed."
"They may disarm us," Grayshard said. Absorbing nutrients in no way interfered with his speech.
"I'm sure they will," Rikard said, "but you just keep your jacket loose."
Grayshard waved a few red-tipped tentacles in the air.
After the meal and a short rest they took the trophy case down to the hotel lobby where a uniformed man met them without surprise or comment and conducted them to the street, where a large limousine van with vaguely official markings was waiting in the porte cochere. Rikard and Grayshard sat behind the driver's seat, and there was plenty of room in back for Droagn and the case.
They drove away from the hotel, along busy but uncrowded streets lined with buildings not nearly so tall, past several parks into a kind of enclave in the heart of the city. Behind a screen of ornamental shrubbery, trees, and immaculate lawns was the museum, immense though not tall, sprawling in all directions. There were lots of vehicles in the main parking lot, but they went around to the side.
