Mainline

by Deborah Christian

  "Had a little knife fight," Reva explained to Lish's questioning look. "The Fixer helped me out on that one. Thanks, by the way," she tossed off—her first, and only, acknowledgment of the aid he had rendered.

  "Don't mention it," Kastlin dismissed the remark, "but what are you going to do when your visitor comes back?"

  "Yeah," Lish agreed. "That's what I want to know."

  Reva's face changed, her eyes gone hard. "He won't be back. I'm taking care of him tomorrow—or, I should say, today."

  "Don't do anything hasty," the Holdout cautioned.

  "I had something planned anyway," Reva said. She spoke curtly, uneasy about discussing her work. "It should be easy to make my friend part of it, instead of just a bystander. He won't be a problem afterward."

  "You know who that alien is?" Vask asked with amazement.

  She continued to play it close. "Knew of him. Tonight was our first meeting. I expect later today will be our last. Lish, in case I'm wrong about him coming back-—will you keep out of sight until I take care of this problem? One day should be all I need."

  The Holdout shook her head, a limited movement within the healing globe. "I'll be out of here by midmorning. I have something going on, too, so I won't be around for a day or so myself. Don't worry about me." She turned to Vask. "By the way—did you ever find out about my netrunner?"

  "Um ... the netrunner?" Vask switched mental gears. "Your guy met some bad neurons in the Net. He got ICEd trying to access a certain established businessperson's shipping registries."

  Reva started. She looked at Lish and mouthed the name Karuu?

  The Holdout gave the smallest nod, an affirmative. "Do you know if he was found out and backtraced? Or was it a routine defense program?"

  The dead hire was not the first decker to run afoul of Interactive Counter-Espionage programs in the cybernet, and wouldn't be the last, but his end had been particularly ugly. Vask omitted the details. "That target is aware of only low-level probes from casual Net travelers. It was a defense program that fried him, not an offensive decker protecting assets."

  "You're certain?"

  "Positive."

  Lish relaxed visibly; a moment later, her eyes fluttered closed. Accelerated healing or no, it was clear that she was exhausted, and needed to sleep. Leaving her on that reassuring note, that her dataprobes had not been traced back to her, they said goodnight and left the hospital behind.

  "Say." Vask stopped Reva near the slidewalk. "You know that special thing you bought from Lish?"

  Reva's eyes were uninviting. "What of it?"

  "I think I can guess what that might be—"

  "Don't bother."

  "No, Reva—I mean, if that's what you're using, and you're going to use one again, I can help."

  "Help? Trying to drum up more business, Vask?" Mercenary motivation she could understand, even if the prying irritated her.

  He gave a too-casual shrug. "I know how to put one together. Can get you a lab to work in if you want to do it yourself. Whatever."

  He looked up at her hopefully, a Fixer bidding for more work.

  Reva's hard eyes softened. "Thanks for the offer, but I've got this taken care of already. Maybe later, yes?"

  "Oh. Later. Sure.

  "I'll give you a good price!" he added reflexively.

  "I'm sure of it," she agreed, and waved good-bye as the slide-walk carried her away.

  XXXII

  The Savu, a huge Peryton-class freighter, eased onto one of the large-cargo pads at Bendinabi Field. R'debh's number-two star-port served only freight traffic many klicks north of Amasl's urban sprawl. Karuu was on the pad with Daribi to watch the ponderous cargo carrier settle to the ground.

  One of the largest designs capable of landing on a planet, the Peryton was a skeletal structure with a spine and traction arms that resembled ribs or gripping fingers placed at intervals down its length. When loaded with a bulk container module, the arms would hold the cargo firmly in place against the flight structure. Massive glowpads fore and aft marked the powerful repulsors that enabled heavy cargo lifts through gravity wells. The Savu was empty, though, and as she set down her skeletal fingers boxed nothing but air.

  The Captain was Celia Natic, a mercenary out of Chorb who worked wet worlds and water drops. "Down and secured," she reported over the Port Authority channel. Karuu monitored that traffic from a com booth at the edge of the docking area.

  The usual contingent drove out to the ship, a Port Authority and a Customs official on their way to check the vessel's papers and manifest. The inspection was quick. Customs had no interest in empty container vessels, and Karuu had paid well—very well-to ensure that today's activities would not be derailed by misplaced zeal.

  When the port authorities were gone, the Holdout punched up the Custom Chief's private code. Walvert Edini came online, a beefy career bureaucrat who maintained his well-fed appearance largely with the help of Karuu's "gratuities" for "assistance" with complex shipping matters.

  "Can't talk now!" he said in a hurried undertone. "Internal Security is walking through the door."

  Karuu was oblivious to the man's nervousness. "You have everything in order?" he asked.

  "Of course—"

  "Security makes the arrest, and you confiscate the cargo, that is certain?"

  For the fourth time that day, the aggravated Customs Chief assured Karuu that it was so. "And you can transport for us, like agreed. Later."

  The com went dark.

  "That was impolite," Karuu said to the screen. But perhaps understandable. Today's coup would be the biggest of the Holdout's career, and one of the richest of Edini's. The Customs Chief had to placate Security. Naturally he would be a little nervous.

  "Daribi." The bronze-skinned Islander glanced around. "You have a boat-boy on hand, like I asked? One who knows the seaways from the air?"

  "Like you ordered."

  "Is good." Karuu washed his hands together. "We have best-ever deal, then. As soon as Lish's cargo is impounded, we are contracted by Customs to haul it to their holding yards. We have only heavy hauler capable of taking that cargo container. This is convenient, no?" The Holdout beamed at the Peryton.

  "If this cargo ends up in Customs' hands after all, why the boat-boy?" Daribi asked gruffly.

  Karuu cocked one furred eyebrow at his underling. "Who says Customs keeps their claws on this? Is simple, my primitive friend. Cargo is perishable, so needs seawater circulation after a while. Customs must store this in their wetdocks at far edge of Obai Shelf. They are not checking container contents too closely until after cargo is in their holding yards.

  "To get there, we are navigating by eyeball and buoy trace over the Bennap Run, a little-used seaway. That is why boat-boy, to help pilot with dead reckoning."

  The Dorleoni grew effusive. "On the way we see distressed seamen in skiff. Peryton sinks into ocean to help them out. Some borgbeasts are released then, to our water-breathing friends beneath the surface. Once seamen are rescued, we go on to Customs wetdocks with same cargo module, only a lighter load."

  Karuu slapped a flipper-shaped foot on the plascrete, a mark of the alien's excitement. "Later, depending who gives best price for it, unknown terrorists can break remaining cargo free. Borgbeasts are powerful enough and follow directions—they can push right through the perimeter fence at the holding yards, and are out into free ocean.

  "If Customs must save face, I pay indemnity for faulty cargo grips or some such that made it easy for thieves to work havoc."

  Karuu waved a webbed paw dismissively. "Compared to the profit made on cargo picked up for free, indemnity is nothing. Customs has not personally inspected full cargo load, can't verify its contents or value. Apologies greased by credits make Customs go away. Internal Security is no problem: they have their master criminal and by then have already taken Lish to trial for her evil smuggling ways. We are all happy."

  "Won't Customs give the ship some kind of escort?" Daribi frowned. "Or tell her what
heading to steer?"

  "Escort, yes. Interested only in making sure the Savu doesn't stray too far. Heading or altitude? No. They are hand-picked crews who have worked with us before." Karuu emulated a human wink. "They will understand our humanitarian need to help distressed seamen, and won't be too intrusive while we effect a rescue."

  "Sounds like you have it all covered, Boss." The Dorleoni nodded decisively. "And you know what the very best part will be, Daribi? The look on Lish's face when her unscheduled import is uncovered, and she is taken away." A seal-bark of mirth escaped the Holdout. "I want to see that, and the docking schedule shows the Delos Varte is third in the landing roster. Let us go watch."

  The Delos Varte settled onto another large-cargo pad at Bendin-abi, one of many freighters arriving for the Trade Fair and the second Peryton-class hauler of the day. Experienced spacers nudged their younger counterparts and pointed. It was rare to see two such behemoths in ground port simultaneously, not likely to happen again for years.

  The Delos appeared all the more impressive because of the gargantuan cargo pod she bore. Its modular units were configured into one long contiguous space by irising open the interior bulkheads. Supplemental repulsor pads were affixed beneath the freight container, the better to support the tremendous mass of the water-filled module during atmosphere maneuvers. The lean lifting framework of the Peryton groaned as she set down, and weight and stress shifted throughout the structure.

  Lish waited amid the growing crowd of onlookers as the Delos secured stations and shut down power. Healed but drained of energy, the steady chemical fuel of stimtabs kept her on her feet after a too-early release from the hospital. The Holdout stood alone, outwardly collected—for the sake of any observers—and inwardly nervous, as she once again rehearsed Plan A.

  In a while, if things went as scheduled, the heavy freighter would be cleared to Avelar Island with other exhibition traffic, and would make her lumbering way through atmosphere. Her manifest claimed she was carrying a sample aqualogy, a self-contained ocean environment to be toured by Fair-goers. Any Customs inspection conducted in a breather would confirm as much. The borgbeasts, after all, knew to hide within the container's artificial terrain, and the venloy lining of the waterproof compartments had been specifically chosen because of its slewing effect on sensor readings. Short of swimming up on a borgbeast that didn't want to be found in the bottom of a lake, no ordinary Customs inspection was going to pin down the nature of the real cargo inside the Delos Varte's gigantic container. If an inspection was more thorough than that, Lish had other problems, and Plan B to address them with.

  Once the module was in the water, the beasts would exit; later, tourists could, indeed, come in. They might not find the aqualogy very impressive, except for its sheer size, but that was alright: by then, the container pod would have done its work, and public approval at that point would not matter in the least.

  Finally the deck elevator dropped the length of a gantry leg, and the ship's Captain emerged on the pad. The port authorities had not yet arrived, and Lish wanted to talk with the officer before they did. She pushed out of the crowd, and walked toward the tall, middle-aged man reviewing ship's records on his datapad.

  "Devin!" she called out. The officer smiled warmly, Rus'karfa battleslash and the silver at his temples lending his face a look of distinction.

  "Lish!"

  The pair met and embraced, old friends renewing their acquaintance. To Lish it was something more: if Plan A didn't work, this might be their only chance to talk.

  Yet she couldn't resist the temptation to stand back, grip the Captain's arm, and grin admiringly at him. He shifted, uneasy at standing inspection in the trim gray jumpsuit he wore, what passed for uniform dress among Free Traders. It was his standard garb since he, like Lish, had taken an independent path from his Shirani clanmates.

  "Thanks." Lish had to say it.

  He brushed the words off. "Couldn't ignore an offer from an old shipmate, could I?" Now that he had arrived, Devin was anxious to drop his contracted cargo and spend time with his kinswoman.

  But it was not to be. Lish became aware of stern eyes trained upon them, and looked around. The port authorities had arrived. And a lot more, besides.

  A police cordon gathered around the Delos' landing pad, separating spacers and ground crew from the approaches to the freighter. Nearby stood a contingent of Customs enforcers, the kind of armed guards who expected trouble from smugglers and illegal immigrants, and were prepared to squelch either with the least provocation.

  Lish turned and faced three men, two of whom she recognized. They were Tammas Hevrik, Port Master; Walvert Edini, the Customs Chief; and a third, black-haired, lean, and unsmiling, in the crisp white jacket and bodysuit of Internal Security. Flanking Lish and Devin were a number of musclemen who could only be IntSec in unmarked white and gray service tunics.

  Her blood ran cold. With an effort she kept a pleasant smile on her face. Plan A was out the airlock; all her hopes were riding on Plan B, now.

  Devin stepped forward, behaving just as a ship's Captain should. "Gentlesirs." He half-bowed. "You have a rather large escort for a routine docking. Is there a problem? I have my documentation right here—"

  The Port Master waved aside his extended datapad. "We'll get to you shortly, Captain." He addressed himself to the woman. "I take it you are the woman known as Lish?"

  The Holdout stood straighter. Hevrik and Edini alike both knew her; she did enough routine and legal shipping out of this port. If they wanted to act like she was some unknown, they'd better rethink their routine.

  "I am Shiran Gabrieya Lish, if that is who you mean." Though she placed subtle emphasis on her clan names, there was no flicker of expression on the Security officer's face, no response to her obvious Sa'adani rank. Sudden doubt assailed her.

  "Then, madam," the Customs Chief drew himself up importantly, "your vessel is impounded."

  Lish concealed the equally sudden relief that flooded through her, and put on the face that made her so deadly at Shaydo. She ignored the pompous Edini and addressed the Port Master. "I'm sorry? I don't believe I heard that right."

  "You did," Hevrik said tartly. "Your vessel is impounded for inspection, and you and your Captain are in the custody of Internal Security."

  Lish let bafflement play across her features. "There must be some mistake," she protested, then had to bite her tongue to avoid smiling. Here came Karuu, too excited to stay away, pushing as far as he could to the forefront of the onlookers held back by the Grinds. He stopped there, his thick mustache pulled up in an incisor-revealing grin.

  "There's no mistake," growled Edini, in no mood for coy smugglers. "You are Shiran Lish, you've admitted. And this is your ship, the Delos Varte. You are under arrest for—"

  "You're wrong," Lish said sharply, her voice carrying to the spectators who were pressing closer to the curious encounter. It was time to make her insurance pay off. "This is not my ship, gentlesirs."

  The Port Master and Imperial Security man exchanged glances. The Customs Chief grew red in the face. "This is your ship, and you claim you are carrying—"

  Devin spoke up and cut the burly man off. "A simple inspection of my documents will confirm what the domna is saying." No matter what Lish was up to, he thought, they could at least get their facts straight. Once again he extended the datapad. "This most definitely is not her ship."

  The Security officer took the pad, examined its contents with keen gray eyes. Chief Edini stared at her accusingly. "How can this not be? What are you doing here, then?"

  She smiled up at the Captain and moved a step closer. "Why, we're old friends, aren't we, Devin?" She reached out, rested her hand on his arm in an intimately familiar way. The ship's officer played along and leaned a little into the embrace. Lish regarded her inquisitors, and said, "When I heard he was going to be in port for a while, I came to meet him. That's allowed, isn't it?" 3

  The Port Master avoided her gaze, while Edini turned a d
eeper shade of red. The Security man looked up from the ship's datapad, and fixed Port Master Hevrik with a stern glare. "What data does a ship beam you in its docking request?"

  "The standard, Commander." Hevrik cleared his throat. "Port of origin, port of destination, ship's master, debarking passenger list—"

  Security held up a hand and the recitation stopped. "And you, Customs Chief? What do you receive?"

  Edini sputtered at the unexpected question. "Last port, outbound destination, quarantine status, manifest declarations. That sort of thing."

  Security frowned at the two. "You don't check ownership, mastery, or home port against Imperial ship registries?"

  The Port Master was taken aback. "That's not an official requirement, Commander Obray! We'd have to check with Central Registry at Neville, and by time our queries cleared and returned, most of this shipping would be long gone anyway. We watch the hotlist for stolen ships, of course, and if those vessel ID numbers come up-—"

  "I don't care about stolen ships," Obray cut him off. "I care about this ship, and its owner, and its cargo." He motioned the ship's Captain over, held out the datapad's edge to him. "Give me your thumbprint," he ordered. "I think we need to confirm some data around here."

  The ID panel glowed green, a confirmation that Shiran Teskal Devin was indeed the contracted Captain of the Delos Varte. "Now you." He crooked his finger at Lish. She pressed her thumb on the datapad. The ID check glowed red. She was not mentioned or authorized in any way in the ship's registry or contract papers.

  The Security officer's brows drew together. Edini stood with mouth agape, and Hevrik had the grace to seem mildly embarrassed.

  "Do you know the owner of this vessel, Captain, or are you a blind hire?" the Imperial investigator asked him.

  "We've never met in person, but I've seen him on the holovid. He's named right there on the ship certificate—" Devin waved at the datapad, then obligingly noticed a unique face in the crowd. "If I'm not mistaken, he's standing right there, too. Good day, sir." The Captain tipped a finger to his brow, and nodded to Karuu.