A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  “Sira Morgan.” The woman recorded something on a hand pad. “Name’s familiar,” she added casually. “I’m Gistries San.”

  I resisted the temptation to look around and see where my shadows were now. “Morgans get around,” I said, noncommittally.

  She looked up. “Last ship and posting?”

  “Hindmost on the Silver Fox, out of Karolus.” I’d placed my bet now, I thought. Morgan hadn’t told me what story he’d concocted to hide the Fox on Plexis. I could only hope it wasn’t the sort of thing to spread.

  Apparently it was a safe bet. Gistries made a couple of entries, then grunted with satisfaction. “Nice to have someone admit to being Hindmost for a change,” was all she said. She curled a lip disdainfully and pointed a booted toe at the posting board. “You’ve no idea how many claim to be grade A pilots instead!” She looked me up and down once more. “I see you have your duffel. Ready to go now?”

  No questions about why I’d left the Fox or why I wanted only temp assignment. I was suddenly unsure, in spite of this Gistries’ businesslike demeanor.

  Her dark eyes grew speculative. “Sorry to sound in a rush, but I’m due onboard for final prep. You can come with me if you’d like to check out the ship, maybe meet the captain before signing. He likes to take on a couple of new maintenance hands when there’s a good cargo on board. I’ve already found two, but I’d like another. Turnover’s pretty high on midrange traders, you know. Up to you.” She began packing up her things.

  There were footsteps behind me. Without looking, I knew my shadows were lurking as if waiting their turn. “I can go now,” I assured her. If I didn’t like the ship or its captain, I’d come back. For now, what mattered was eluding my pursuers, whoever they were.

  Gistries, who had waited with unexpected patience, smiled when I stood up. She tipped over the green card. “Great. Let’s go. You won’t be sorry, Sira. My captain has a history of very profitable voyages.”

  INTERLUDE

  “How’s your head?” Huido asked, easing himself with a contented sigh into a chair expressly designed for his massive bulk, the claw tips of his lower, and larger, two arms resting comfortably on the floor.

  Morgan ignored the question. The blinding headache he’d awakened with was the least of his worries. “Any word?”

  The Carasian’s multiple eyes examined Morgan warily, years of practice letting him recognize an unusual grimness to the human’s pale features, a dangerous set to Morgan’s eyes and mouth. “Nothing yet. Plexis is a big place. Be patient.”

  Morgan wasn’t inclined to patience, especially not since waking up on the floor of the room with a pounding head and the sick realization that Sira was gone. “Did you get anything from the Plexis security?”

  “They were reluctant; it took two cases of Brillian Brandy to loosen the record strings. The Torquad docked after you. But so have twenty other ships, including two Enforcers.”

  “Bowman’s lot I expected. I can deal with her. But Roraqk.” Morgan cursed. “Sira’s out roaming the decks of this damned station, and you know he has half the station staff on his payroll.”

  A small click as the Carasian signified his agreement. “Still, an outright kidnapping on Plexis would be risky, even for Roraqk,” puzzled the alien.

  “Not if he smells profit sufficient to buy him a nest site anywhere he chooses, with no questions asked.”

  Too restless to remain still, Morgan stood and paced, grimacing as the motion jarred his sore head. It was a pain he’d earned for himself, all right, just what he deserved for tampering with a mind whose complexity was only now becoming clear to him. He hoped Sira knew it hadn’t been her fault.

  “Ransom from kidnapping your mate?” Had Huido eyebrows, they would have shot skyward. “Forgive me, dear friend, but—”

  “Roraqk expects nothing from me.” More briskly. “You’re certain he’s still in dock?”

  “Yes.” Huido shifted uncomfortably, the overlapping plates on his abdomen sliding over each other with a soft hiss. “But are you certain Sira is on Plexis? There have been departures. I have a partial list—” he broke off as Morgan tapped his forehead suggestively.

  “Sira’s still here. Somewhere. I know.”

  Armor glistened wetly as Huido rotated his head to bring all of his eyes to bear on the smaller Human. “So. Sira shares your gift. What else haven’t you told me?” He paused. “Why do I suddenly find it difficult to believe this romantic tale of another Morgan on the Fox?”

  Morgan’s mouth twisted wryly. “I haven’t lied, just let you believe what you wished. Face it, you’ve pestered me on the topic of partnering for so many years I owed you! Sira’s important to me. And she’s saved my life. Twice,” Morgan’s voice trailed away pensively as he rubbed the ache behind his forehead. Huido clicked his upper claws impatiently.

  “If she is not a Morgan,” he complained, “then who is she— and why does your Sira tempt a master pirate?”

  “A pawn in a game much bigger than I thought, Brother.” Morgan roused from his contemplations. “And someone who shouldn’t be used that way.”

  Accepting Morgan’s unwillingness to explain further, the Carasian switched to practicalities, standing noisily. “So we’re going to search Plexis with Roraqk and his crew on our backs. Your visits are never dull,” As Huido spoke, his dexterous claws pried open a cabinet, revealing an assortment of hand weapons highly illegal on several planets, but then, almost nothing was illegal on Plexis. He carelessly tossed a biodisrupter to Morgan, who caught it from the air with practiced ease. “We hunt?”

  “We hunt,” Morgan confirmed grimly. “As long as it takes.” Almost to himself.

  Huido shrugged philosophically, selecting some lethal weaponry of his own to hang from clips embedded in the chitin of his chest. “As I recall, my chef has an acceptable recipe for lizard.” A chuckle of amusement echoed hollowly within his huge body.

  The muted sound of a door chime interrupted further speech. Huido clicked his annoyance and looked apologetically at Morgan. The Human merely shrugged, taking a seat on the couch which faced the doorway, slipping his weapon beneath a cushion as he did so. The Carasian paused to snap a fitted vest over his own armament before bellowing an irritated: “Enter!”

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion, bottom crawler?” Claws snapping menacingly, Huido heaved toward the door as he saw the two figures behind his anxious servant. “You bring no one up here unannounced!” With admirable restraint, Morgan nodded a noncommittal welcome.

  “Don’t terrify poor Ansel, Huido. I doubt it was his idea.” As one of the shadowed figures ventured closer, eyeing Huido cautiously, Morgan added: “Meet Barac—I’m sure you remember him from one of my wilder tales. And . . . ?”

  “My cousin, Rael,” Barac showed his relief to be past Huido’s ominously silent figure. The Clanswoman didn’t spare the giant a glance. Morgan felt a warning raise the hairs of his neck.

  “Friends of yours, little Brother?” Huido easily inspected both visitors simultaneously.

  “We have been,” Barac said hastily, as if daring Morgan to challenge this. Morgan kept any response from his features and, more importantly, from his thoughts. Huido waved his apologetic and confused servant away, closing the door and stationing his own bulk before it with deliberate intent. Against any opponents but these, old friend, thought Morgan. Barac was trouble, but Morgan found himself feeling more uneasy about the woman, Rael. Though most of her beauty had been obscured, there was no mistaking the original model for the projection that had called to Sira. And had she been the one to attack him through their link?

  “She’s not here.” Rael’s voice was like silk, but her tone was bored and imperious. Huido’s head tilted. Morgan signaled him to remain silent. There was no need for any other warning; Huido’s species used mental channels of a totally different order from Human or Clan.

  “You really shouldn’t have taken Sira away from Auord without contacting me, Jason,” Barac said quickl
y. He seemed conciliatory—an attitude Morgan had hardly expected and one he distrusted thoroughly.

  “And how was I to do that, Clansman?” Mildly.

  “Where is Sira?” snapped the Clanswoman.

  “It’s never wise to be impatient, Cousin.” Without being invited, Barac took a seat opposite Morgan. “Rael doesn’t fully appreciate our situation, Morgan. You can understand that we, as Clan, are rarely limited in our dealings with other species. Rael hasn’t come across Carasians before,” a gracious nod to Huido, “nor has she noticed your weapon, which I’m sure has us both in its sights.”

  Rael’s large green eyes narrowed speculatively at this, then shifted, becoming strangely unfocused as Morgan turned slightly to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked for a long moment. Rael shuddered abruptly, looking away with a startled curse before staring at the Human with quite a different look in her eyes—one of shock. Morgan merely continued to smile pleasantly, lifting the protecting cushion from the weapon held loosely but competently in one lean hand.

  “Now why doesn’t it surprise me that you can’t be pinned, old friend?” Barac asked softly, menacingly. Huido shifted ominously. “Rael is quite accomplished, you know. Much more powerful than I. And what does that make you, Morgan?”

  “It makes you both fools,” Rael hissed furiously, wheeling on her cousin. “This Human knows nothing beyond tricks we teach children! I could destroy him—”

  “But you won’t.” Morgan tossed his weapon aside, his pose deceptively relaxed, a flash of his eyes quelling the uneasy Carasian. “We know each other well enough, Barac.”

  Rael was far from silenced. “I know you, all right. You can’t hide the stench of your power from me!”

  “Where is Sira, Morgan?” Barac made an effort to ignore his cousin, to concentrate again on the imperturbable Human. “I know you can be reasonable when it suits you.” An honest puzzlement filled his voice. “What can you hope to gain by obstructing us? Don’t you realize how I’ve protected you all these years?”

  Morgan’s smile didn’t reach his icy blue eyes. “I don’t recall asking for your protection, Barac.”

  “Barac—” Rael growled.

  “Not now, Rael!” Barac lost control momentarily as he harshly cut across her speech. Huido shuffled, alert to the tension in the room if not sure of the reason. “I don’t know what Sira has said to you, what may have happened to cause you to distrust me—”

  Morgan’s smile was mocking. “When did the word trust enter into it, Clansman? As I said, we know each other well enough.”

  Barac swallowed his planned retort to this, obviously thinking hard and fast. “We had a bargain—”

  “Bargain? You asked me to find Sira. I did. You asked me to help her off Auord and out of danger. I did. Perhaps I’ve done more to help Sira than you expected.”

  “I expected some truth!” Barac accused hotly. “Now I find my old friend is a telepath of no minor strength as well as a smuggler and a liar. And probably a kidnapper as well. Did you sell her to those planetside filth?” He halted, stricken in mid-thought, then went on hoarsely, as if against his own will: “Or was there something about her you had to keep for yourself—”

  “Stop this!” The rebuttal came from an unexpected source. “Don’t persist, Cousin,” Rael continued, eyes flashing. “You’re close to wearing out my patience.”

  Barac refused to look at her, his angry gaze riveted on Morgan. “I asked for your help in finding Sira, Morgan. Now I find she’s been on your ship, recorded as crew, and now appears to have vanished once more. Tell us what you’ve done with her!”

  “Believe what you choose, Clansman.” Morgan was tired and more than aware of the passage of time—not to mention his aching head. “I don’t know where your Sira is now, nor do I care. She left my company once we docked. I expect she’s gone outsystem on one of the hundred or so ships that were ready to lift when we arrived. Is that helpful enough? Now. What about some compensation for my time, my effort? I’ve docking fees to pay, in case you hadn’t noticed—”

  “Name your price.” Rael’s voice was low.

  “My price?” Morgan studied her for a moment, abruptly more puzzled than offended. The Clanswoman returned his look with a suspicious scowl. Her long, vibrant black hair framed a delicate, yet strong face. Her body was superb, shown to advantage by her dress as well as the tension of her anger. Rael’s dislike of Morgan was wholehearted and tangible—yet at that moment, the Human would have sworn that he’d never seen true beauty in a woman before.

  Rael shuddered. “Stop staring at me, Human, before I forget you may still be of use to us.” Morgan started, uncomfortably aware in the ensuing silence that he had been gawking at her as if he were at a glamour show.

  “He’s drawn to your Power, Cousin,” Barac clarified for her. He arched a sardonic brow at her wide-eyed stare. “I told you I know Humans—”

  “Impossible,” Rael said unsteadily, her eyes unaccountably frightened. Morgan realized with shock that her fear was of himself. “I refuse to believe this, Barac. You are no—”

  “Mind yourself, Rael. Don’t you feel his interest in everything we say?” Barac glared accusingly at Morgan. “You may scorn my protection, Human, but your life will be a great deal shorter without it.”

  Morgan rose to his feet. “I should think our business over, anyway, Barac. Forgive me if I don’t wish you luck.”

  Barac remained seated. “The spoken word easily hides the true nature of things, doesn’t it, Captain? Yet say I believe you. Isn’t it odd Sira would leave you for another ship, if she had a position as crew and you were taking such good care of her? I’d have thought she would prefer to stay, to remain close to her benefactor. Or were you more?”

  “Enough!” Rael exclaimed in a voice grown deadly. “You forget yourself, sud. Do not force me to remind you. This Human may be slightly more than we thought at first,” she ignored Morgan’s mocking bow, “but our time is wasted pursuing this folly of yours. We’ve our own means of verifying his information.”

  Barac scowled and stood. “As you wish,” he gave in grudgingly. “We’ll be back if we don’t find her; count on it, Human.” All pretense of friendship was gone from Barac’s harsh voice. Morgan’s smile was amused.

  “I’ll send you my bill, Clansman.”

  Chapter 14

  THE simplest thing could change a person’s perception of reality, I decided. In my case, I could blame the pink spot on my cheek where an air tag had so recently clung.

  My companion, Gistries San, had worn a blue tag, like mine. But it wasn’t exactly like mine. My tag had been obtained under, shall I say, irregular circumstances? But it was real. Gistries’ tag had been just plain counterfeit.

  It would have worked, and I would have stayed a happy enough fool a while longer, had there not been a line at the tag point on the way to Gistries’ ship.

  There were three operators manning the tag point on this level. When we’d arrived, the operator nearest us was dealing with some complaint or other, a disgruntled line of those waiting their turn growing longer immediately. The next operator waved some of these over to her counter, and Gistries followed this group with myself in tow. We ended up five back.

  I’d looked over my shoulder uneasily, trying not to be obvious about it. My shadows had followed us; hopefully we’d finally lose them on the other side of this checkpoint. The two lined up peacefully, despite not moving quickly enough to beat the trio of Denebian spacers who good-naturedly bumped into me and cheerfully apologized. Shore leave.

  The next operator suddenly had no one left in his line, and waved at us. I tapped Gistries on the shoulder to get her attention and started hurrying to the other counter.

  A hand took hold of my arm just above the elbow and jerked me to a stop. Startled, I looked down at Gistries’ hand and then up to her face. Her eyes were cold and hard. “This line will do, chit,” she said firmly. She didn’t release her grip.

  The Denebians swayed and c
huckled their way into what should have been our place at the empty counter. I didn’t bother to turn and see my followers move up to stand at my back. “Who sent you?” I asked, glaring at her.

  “Just keep calm and there’ll be no trouble. Got it?” Something pricked through the fabric at the base of my spine. I felt the sharpness, but it didn’t penetrate the skin.

  “Got it,” I whispered. The sharpness disappeared, but I knew I was trapped.

  When it was finally our turn at the counter, we were faced by a sharp-eyed Human, one who looked quite capable of noticing a hair out of place. I leaned forward so the Human could remove my tag, forming a vague plan to complain about the charge, or create some kind of disturbance that would stir the interest of the plentiful security personnel scattered around the tag point.

  Instead of peeling off my tag, the man touched it with a rod. The tag dropped into his hand and he laid it on the counter next to the device that would read it. The tiny blue thing humped itself into the maw of the reader and I realized with wonder that it was alive, a tattle-tale rather than a recording device.

  The operator peered into the top of the reader. “15.35 hours of breathing,” he snapped, the lights from the readout reflecting on his prominent cheekbones. “Automatic transfer to the account of the Claw and Jaw. Rich place for a spacer to run up a tab,” he commented, raising his head and cocking a curious brow at me.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Gistries had already pushed me ahead, keeping her hand on my back as though we were friends.

  “ ’lo, Malcolm,” she greeted the operator in a casual tone. “How’s the family?”

  I closed my mouth.

  The tag operator winked at her as he removed her tag. He smiled as he saw the readout, then said in a low voice, “Amazingly enough, you’ve been here 27 hours and I’m going to have to charge you for, lessee, 300 hours of air, Gis.”