by Timothy Zahn
“Sorry—all the technological miracles are down the Tunnel a ways in Shamsheer. I don’t suppose …?”
“If they had something like that, I would have used it long ago,” he said dryly. “Probably. Was there anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, there was.” The neutral expression was back in place, with a twinge of discomfort hovering at its edges. “I’ve had a … let’s call it an unusual request come down from an unnamed source—unnamed because no one will tell me where the hell it came from, either. It asks specifically that our most experienced Courier be assigned to take a female graduate student from the University of Autaris into the Hidden Worlds for her field assignment.”
Ravagin frowned. “A single student? One?”
“That’s what it says.”
“What the hell do they think we’re running here, a personal guided tour service?”
Lea shrugged. “I don’t know any more than I’ve just given you … except that there are distinct hints that pressure is going to be brought to bear on your neck if you don’t agree to take her in.”
“Whoa—freeze that frame, huh? What does this have to do with me? I’m leaving, remember?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Lea took a deep breath. “It isn’t like we can pretend someone else is more experienced than you are—it’s an on-record fact we can’t hide. The higher-ups have already made it clear they want you to stay on for this one last trip. If you don’t … it’s entirely possible your leave of absence might not be approved.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s a triumph for some branch of human stupidity,” Ravagin snorted. “I presume you offered my last med/psych test results for their reading enjoyment?”
“And I told them you were suffering the entire Courier burnout syndrome,” she sighed. “None of it did a scrap of good. Most experienced is what they want, most experienced is what they’re determined to get.”
“All right, then. If that’s how they want to play I’ll quit outright. Then I’m out of their grasp entirely.”
“Yeah. Well …” Lea looked acutely uncomfortable. “I would presume, though, that you’re not ready to retire at the ripe old age of thirty-eight.”
Ravagin felt his eyes narrow. “Are you suggesting,” he said slowly, “that they might blackmark my records if I refuse to roll over for them?”
Lea spread her hands. “I don’t know what they’ve got in mind upstairs—God’s truth. All I know is that I haven’t seen everyone this nervous since the Proloc of Vandahl ignored all the warnings and horror stories and demanded we take his children into Shamsheer to ride the flying carpets.”
Ravagin felt a shiver run up his spine. “Just who the hell is this grad student, anyway—the Presidio’s daughter?”
“All I’ve got is a name: Danae Panya. Currently on Autaris; no other data given. Mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.” He didn’t add that the politics and business affairs of the Twenty Worlds were somewhat outside his usual field of interest.
“Not to me, either.” Lea twisted her mouth sourly. “Look, Ravagin, I know you probably hate giving in to pressure about as much as I do … but, really, would it be so bad? Really? It would be only a single person—”
“An inexperienced kid.”
“They’re all inexperienced—that’s what we need Couriers for, remember? So it’s a single person, not one of those group zoos you all hate, and on a university field research assignment besides. Which means a short trip, and she’ll be out of your hair puttering around on her own most of the time, anyway. And she won’t be here for several more weeks, which’ll give you a good stretch of rest/rec time to get ready for her.”
“Oh, it’s just a Courier’s fondest dream,” Ravagin said sardonically, a sudden thought souring his mouth. “Tell me, Corah: what are they threatening you with if you don’t talk me into this?”
Her eyes slipped away from his gaze. “That’s irrelevant. It’s also none of your business.”
“Uh-huh.” In other words, if he cut out she’d wind up bearing the full weight of this official elephant by herself. Damn them all, he thought bitterly. It took a particularly low class of vermin to hit a man through his friends … and a particularly stupid class of man to give in to such tactics.
A class of which he was, unfortunately, a member. And there were times he hated himself for it.
“All right,” he sighed. “I’ll do it—not for your boss, and sure as hell not for this Panya kid and her political connections. I’ll do it as a personal favor to you, Corah … and you’re to damn well make sure they know it. Understand? They owe you a Big One.”
Lea nodded, trying not entirely successfully to keep the moisture out of her eyes. “I understand, Ravagin. I’ll make them pay it back, too, in some way that’ll benefit the entire Corps. Count on it.”
“Yeah.” He got to his feet. “If that’s all, then, I still have a report to fill out.”
“The hell with the report,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day out there—go out and enjoy it while it lasts.”
He pursed his lips. “All right. Yes, I think I will.”
She attempted a smile. “It’s the least I can do. And Ravagin … thanks. They owe you a Big One, too.”
“Sure.” A Big One, he knew, that he would probably never get around to collecting. But it was the thought that counted. “Talk to you later. Bye-and-luck.”
Chapter 3
TRIPLET, ON FIRST IMPRESSION, was a distinct disappointment.
The minor-class starport they came down at was bad enough, in Danae’s opinion; haphazardly designed and stuck twenty-five kilometers away from the nearest real city like an architectural leper. But the nearby buildings of Triplet Control that were visible through the starport lounge’s window were even worse. She’d seen military camps before, but even by those dubious standards this one didn’t measure up. The main Triplet Defense building was a massive chunk of masonry that looked like it had been thrown together under combat conditions. A half kilometer further north, the Crosspoint Building was a little better; but any improvement in design was more than made up for by the fenced-in perimeter surrounding it …
Involuntarily, Danae shivered. The three-hundred-meter-wide defensive ring around Threshold’s Tunnel was called the Dead Zone, and was allegedly the most airtight perimeter anywhere in the Twenty Worlds. She didn’t know any of the details … and gazing at the oddly indistinct view beyond the Dead Zone’s outer fence, she decided she didn’t want to.
“Ms. Danae Panya?”
She started, shifting her eyes from the window to the two men approaching from behind her. “Yes?” she acknowledged cautiously.
“Welcome to Triplet,” the older of the men smiled. “I’m Liaison Director Hamen DorLexis. I must say, you caught us a little by surprise, coming in early like this.”
She relaxed a bit. “I had a chance at an earlier flight than I’d originally planned,” she explained, striving to sound offhanded about it. In truth, it had cost her a run through Hell’s own bureaucracy to get her flight switched at the last minute. “I thought I could use the extra time to look around Threshold a little.”
“You’re on the wrong side of the planet to do any sightseeing,” DorLexis said. “Everything around here is strictly geared to support and defense of the Tunnel.”
“I see.” The second man was still standing quietly in the background, and Danae caught his eye. “And you are …?”
“Oh, excuse me,” DorLexis jumped in before the other could answer. “Ms. Panya, this is Courier Ravagin, the man who’ll be taking you into the Hidden Worlds.”
“Indeed?” She looked at the second man with new interest. Medium height and build, dark eyes in a quiet face—there was nothing especially noteworthy about him. Certainly nothing that immediately marked him as a veteran of travel in the Hidden Worlds. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ravagin.”
“Just Ravagin, Ms. Panya,” he told her. The quiet of his voice matched that of his fa
ce. “It’s a single, all-purpose name.”
“Ah,” she said, not really understanding. “Well … please call me Danae, then.”
He nodded, and DorLexis jumped back into the conversation. “I’ve already arranged for your luggage to be transferred to the Checkpoint Building, Ms. Panya; whenever you’re ready we can head there ourselves and start your processing.”
“Already? I assumed that with my early arrival and all I’d have to wait a few days.”
DorLexis smiled, almost smugly. “We’re well accustomed to dealing with the unexpected here. I started things rolling as soon as the ship’s captain lasered his passenger list to us. If you’ll come this way …?”
Together, they headed toward the exit. “About how long will all this take?” Danae asked.
“Oh, the processing itself will only take a couple of hours,” DorLexis assured her. “We need to check you for any diseases you might be carrying, give you some broad-spectrum immunity injections and check for reactions to them—that sort of thing.”
“And also make sure you know what you’re getting into,” Ravagin put in.
“I read all the material you sent to me,” Danae told him. “Are you saying it was inaccurate?”
“Of course not,” DorLexis said quickly. ‘It’s just that—well, the Couriers tend to think our information packets are incomplete.”
Danae looked at Ravagin. “Are they?”
“Of course,” he said. “You can’t put everything about two entire worlds on a few pages, especially when they’re not meant to be anything but a general overview in the first place.”
“So why don’t the packets include more?”
“What would be the point? Most travelers wouldn’t bother to read them anyway. They’d just do what they do now: rely on the Courier to do all the major thinking and worrying for them inside.”
“Ravagin—” DorLexis began warningly.
“No, let him continue, please,” Danae interrupted. “If you think so little of your clients, why do you continue to put up with the job?”
“Who said I thought little of them?” Ravagin growled. “I said most of them wouldn’t prepare themselves any more than they do now, regardless of what material we gave them.”
“Be assured, Ms. Panya,” DorLexis cut in, “that Ravagin and all our other Couriers are strongly dedicated to their work, no matter how they may talk on occasion.” He flicked a glare at Ravagin. “You have nothing at all to fear going into the Hidden Worlds with anyone from the Corps.”
“Of course,” Danae nodded, hiding with an effort her annoyance at the other’s well-meant interference. Her first clean shot at seeing what made Ravagin tick, and DorLexis had just fouled it up. But there would be plenty of time for that later. “So when will we actually be heading into Shamsheer?”
“Tomorrow morning, if you’d like,” DorLexis said, clearly glad to be on safe ground again. “We prefer you to have a good night’s sleep before you go in.”
Danae nodded. “Sounds good. I’m anxious to get started. If that’s all right with you, Ravagin?”
He shrugged, back inside his shell again. “You’re the boss.”
They walked in silence for another minute, reaching the exit and walking into the shifting winds outside. They were halfway to the car DorLexis had pointed out when the faint pop of a sonic boom drifted in from the distance. Danae looked up, but the low clouds hid the approaching starship from sight. “How often do you get off-world ships in here?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.
“Oh, once or twice a week, usually,” DorLexis said, glancing at the sky himself. “As I said, there’s not much in this part of Threshold except the Tunnel, and as you know there are strict limitations on the number of people who are allowed inside.”
“Um.” But that had been a starship’s deceleration boom—Danae was almost sure of it. Which meant the respite she’d gained by finagling the earlier flight was about due to end.
Whatever that ship was—commercial, military, or private—she could almost guarantee that Hart would be on it.
They reached the car and climbed in … and as DorLexis threaded them through the other parked vehicles toward the exit road, she caught a glimpse of the sleek rich man’s skimmer settling into its approach glide over the starport’s landway.
Hart, for sure.
Damn. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Settling back against the cushions, she closed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to relax.
His copy of the test results tracked their way across his display, and Ravagin paused in his route planning for a quick look at the bottom line. A green light, as expected.
Which meant Danae Panya had cleared the last hurdle standing between her and her two fun-filled months on the Hidden Worlds.
Damn.
With a sigh, he erased the information from the screen. He’d been feeling ambivalent enough about this trip before the trip to the starport this morning—and now, having spent much of the day with his client, his mood was even worse. From the sort of questions she’d plied him with it was clear that she was the type who thought Courier and client should be best friends right from the starting gun, and there were few types Ravagin hated more. It was indeed going to be a fun couple of months.
The click of his phone interrupted his brooding. “Ravagin, this is Kyle Grey at the main entrance guard station. Do you know anyone by the name of Hart?”
“No,” Ravagin answered. “Should I?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you. He wants to see you about joining your tour tomorrow.”
Ravagin snorted. “Sure thing. I’ll just pack him in my trunk and smuggle him across the telefold. Tell him to take a hike in the Dead Zone, will you?”
“Wait, you haven’t heard the best part. When I told him I couldn’t let him in to see you without a permit, he tried to buy one. From me.”
Ravagin felt his eyebrows go up. “You mean a bribe?”
“Uh-huh. A big one, too. Makes me almost wish I didn’t have any scruples.”
“Or monitor cameras pointed at your station?” Ravagin added acidly.
“That too. Anyway, I’ve already sealed the foyer and pushed the panic button, but I thought you might want to come take a look at this character before they haul him away.”
Why not? “On my way.”
The reinforcements were in the process of frisking Hart down when Ravagin arrived; and judging from the pile on the foyer table, he was carrying more than his fair share of illegal or suspicious gear. But if the man was worried the emotion didn’t show anywhere in face or stance. In fact, from his almost bored expression, Ravagin might almost guess he broke into restricted areas twice a week.
“You must be Ravagin,” the man said as Ravagin walked into the room. “My name is Hart. I’d like to discuss your trip tomorrow, if I may.”
The man had poise; Ravagin had to give him that. “Sorry, but I usually make it a point not to take blithering idiots into the Hidden Worlds with me—not good for one’s health. Whatever made you think you could offer such a blatant bribe here and get away with it?”
“Oh, the bribe was just a conversation piece,” Hart shrugged. “I thought the guard might call and let you know about it. I see I was right.”
“Good for you,” the guard captain standing nearby grunted. “First prize is a few years in a very deep hole somewhere. Congratulations.”
“Not at all—I’ll be out in a matter of hours,” Hart said calmly. “I have—let us say—well-placed friends.”
“Fine—you can call them when you get to Gateway City,” the captain told him.
“I will. Meanwhile—” his eyes bored into Ravagin’s—“perhaps I may discuss with Mr. Ravagin the possibility of joining his party tomorrow.”
“There isn’t any possibility,” Ravagin said flatly. “The roster is set, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Not strictly true,” Hart shook his head. “A Courier has considerable power over the makeup o
f his group—including the power to add someone. Even at this late date, if you didn’t mind postponing your departure a day or two. Which is also within your authority.”
Ravagin pursed his lips, intrigued in spite of himself. Danae Panya was here through official and probably money-based pressure; now Hart was implying a similar backing. Connection? “You’re correct, at least in principle,” he admitted, “but in this case it’s irrelevant. My client has gone to great lengths to ensure a private trip into the Hidden Worlds, and I’ve found that when money fights with money the first batch in usually wins.”
Hart cocked an eyebrow. “Would it help if I told you that her money and my money were from the same person?”
“It might … if you could also explain why he didn’t arrange it as a joint package in the first place.”
“It was done that way for reasons I’d rather not go into,” the other said with a shrug. “Be assured, though, that I can easily prove what I’m saying.”
A motion outside caught Ravagin’s eye: a heavy prisoner transport pulling up to the door. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste the time. By the time you get anyone to believe you we’ll be in Shamsheer and long out of your reach.”
Hart eyed him coolly. “I see. Well, I suppose I should take some comfort in the fact that you’re not easily corruptible. Let me try a different tack, then, for the—” he glanced out the door at the transport—“few seconds I have left here. The Hidden Worlds are an extremely dangerous place, even for a Courier of your experience and reputation. If something should happen to your client in there, you could be in severe trouble.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not at all—just a statement of reality. For all your undoubted skills, you’re not trained as a professional bodyguard. I am. If you allow me to accompany you, you’ll be taking far less risk, both of serious injury to your client and of possible legal fallout upon your return.”
And with that Ravagin’s simmering dislike of Hart finally passed the fine line into disgust. “I don’t know where you learned how to deal with people, Hart,” he said, controlling himself with a supreme effort. “But I suggest you never again try suggesting to a Triplet Courier that he can’t do his job. Captain, I’d appreciate it if you’d make sure the authorities at Gateway City hold your prisoner here until my client and I are in Shamsheer. If you need more charges against him to do that, let me know—I’ve got a few I’d be happy to file.”