by F. M. Busby
The amber liquid was clear and sparkling; they touched glasses and she sipped. “This is new to me. It is quite tart; I like it. Is it a local product?”
“From the forest yonder; the berry grows on a parasitic vine. Funny thing — in the raw state it’s deadly poison and smells like it. Heat of distillation breaks up the alkaloid molecule.”
“You know a lot about Far Corner, Osallin.”
“That’s my business. Part of it, anyway.”
“Yes. Now — about other Escaped Ships. Do you know — ?”
He shook his head. “Nothing definite; only rumor. It could be two weeks, or six months — depending on what kind of planet you want to go to.”
“Kind? What kinds are there? And where?”
“I don’t know where. Ships don’t give out that information — you can see why. The Hidden Worlds have names or numbers, and the ships will tell you about climates and populations — things like that, so you won’t end up on a swamp planet if you prefer deserts. But actual locations are secret. What you and I don’t know, we can’t let slip to the wrong parties.”
“Of course. But you can put me in touch?”
“And recommend you.” He looked at his watch. “My next appointment’s overdue. Oh, it’s all right, Tari — it won’t hurt for them to simmer a little before they hear my offer. But I judge that the time’s about right. So if you’ll excuse me? I’ve enjoyed talking with you. Oh, yes — you’re staying where?”
She stood. “At the First Ever, near the edge of town.”
“Good. But it isn’t, you know — the first, I mean. The third built here, maybe. But the others are gone now — burned or torn down. So I don’t blame old Charling for boosting his place a bit.”
She extended her own left hand, so the handshake was less awkward. “When shall I — ?”
“I’ll send word; wait for it. Meanwhile — get out and see the country, why don’t you? The worlds are so far apart — it’s a shame to be on one and waste it.”
“That is a good suggestion. Thank you, Osallin.” Rissa turned and left. In the lobby a man and woman argued. She waited a moment. The receptionist called a name; the two rose, still bickering, and went to the staircase. She resisted the urge to smile; the wait had softened them up for Osallin, well enough.
In the chilly twilight of Far Corner’s short day she walked back to the First Ever. The landlord greeted her. “Have a good stroll, Ms. Obrigo?”
“Quite enjoyable, Mr. Charling . . . you are Mr. Charling?”
“Well, well — somebody tipped my ident, eh?”
“I mentioned the inn; someone told me the owner’s name.”
“Well and good; it’s no secret. Now — can I help you?”
“Yes. I would like to take dinner here this evening.”
“Sure. Dining room’s around the corner there,” and he motioned. “Dinner’s served over two hours; you’re about smack in the middle of it, right now. Sign by the door tells the mealtimes.” She nodded, and he said, “Hey — you got a Far Corners watch?”
“No, I am afraid not.”
“Rent you one, long as you want, while you’re here. Tenth of a Weltmark per day — rental applies on buying if you decide to stay.” She initialed the agreement on her account card and took the watch, then visited her room briefly and went to dinner. Tired, for it was still her first day out of freeze, she ate a light meal — native meats and vegetables with pleasant but unremarkable flavors. Back in her room she postponed thought and retired early.
Following Osallin’s advice, Rissa spent her next days exploring the countryside within reach of Second Site — on foot, by groundcar, and by air-flitter. She stalked gently through forest and once saw a rare swarming of the furry hive-flyers. For three days she trekked across the High Desert and inspected ruins left by an unknown species that built its doorways approximately one meter high and two wide. A tugboat, towing an ore barge, carried her half the length of the New Amazon river. She rode a flitter to the Heavy Sea and walked its beaches, inhaling the rich, pleasant aroma of the organic — and possibly living — body of liquid.
Returning a day later to the First Ever, she found a message from Osallin. “Come immediately. I have two prospects.”
Across his desk Osallin handed her a package. “First, here’s your new identity kit — Laura Konig, per specifications. The eye-stickums are a darker blue than I expected, but on such short notice I had to take what was available.”
“I am sure they will be all right. What is the cost?”
He waved his hand. “Hardly a nibble off my commission on your shipment from Erika. No charge — just part of the service.”
“I thank you, Osallin.”
“Anytime, Tari. Now, then — two Escaped Ships are in. Or rather, one’s down and the other lands tomorrow. The question is, which do you want?”
She laughed. “How could I know, until you tell me of them?”
“The one at the port is called — renamed — Ridgerunner; it’s one of the first to Escape. Good ship, good captain. Freeze-chambers in top shape. But its next two stops are at pioneer worlds, sparsely populated. I doubt that’s what you have in mind.”
“And the other?”
“Its destination’s ideal — Number One, the first and most developed Hidden World. The colony got a big lift some years back when a ship Escaped with a cargo of frozen sperm and ova — and the artificial wombs to gestate them — intended to grow cheap labor for UET’s mines on Iron Hat. I guess it was rough for a while — the first settlers raising kids at a ratio of maybe fifty children to one adult — but they made it.” He looked down at his hand, then up again. “And — I don’t know much about it, but there’s a Hulzein connection on the planet.”
Rissa waited but he said no more. “I gather, Osallin, that something about this choice is less than ideal?”
“The ship — Inconnu it’s called, these days. Even among the Escaped — who all raid UET colonies when they can, of course — it’s considered a bit of an outlaw. It’s the only armed ship ever taken, and the captain — Tregare, his name is — took command by mutiny after Escape. Some say he takes on supplies and forgets — at gunpoint — to pay for them. And it’s known that at Freedom’s Ring he dispossessed the crew of another Escaped Ship and put his own cadre aboard. A lot of people think he’s trying to build a fleet — maybe take over all the Escaped Ships.”
She shook her head. “He cannot do it. Not in one man’s lifetime. The logistics of star travel are against him.”
“Maybe. But the question is — do you want to ride with a man like that?”
Rissa stretched, leaned back and ran both hands through her hair. “A moment, Osallin. Hmmm — I will need a lock box, about this big
— “ She gestured. “ — with a photolock keyed to my — to Rissa
Kerguelen’s retinal patterns. Can you provide one and code it?”
“I can have it done, sure. But — ”
“Are there rumors of harm to Tregare’s passengers? Deaths or disappearances? Complaints?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then tomorrow, or whenever he is not busy, let us go and talk with Tregare.” Smiling, Osallin slapped his hand on the desk. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that!”
Tregare's first day aground, he would not see them. Nor the second. On the third day, Osallin took Rissa aboard Inconnu.
The two were shown to the captain’s quarters. Tregare — a tall, sallow man with curly black hair over a high forehead — did not impress Rissa greatly. His bony face bore a milder expression than she had expected. His left cheek carried the tattoo that denoted rank in UET’s space fleet; looking closely, Rissa saw that part of the pigments did not match, that his rank at Escape had been Third Officer. The rest of the tattoo, upgrading him to captain, had been added later and less expertly.
Without preamble the man said, “Passage to Number One. I have room for one, only.”
“I wish passage; my friend O
sallin does not. How much?”
Tregare grinned. After a few seconds he said, “What am I bid?”
“Bid?”
“I’m not running a charity, Ms. Obrigo. Highest bidder rides.”
“I see. And you have other bids?”
“I do.”
“May I see what you have and decide whether I can afford to raise them?”
“Nothing’s written down; it’s all verbal.”
“Then will you tell me the amount of the highest offer?”
He named a figure more than three times what she had paid to UET; she was certain he lied.
“And does that include the freeze-chamber?”
Tregare scowled and moved a hand, negating. “No freeze on here; the damned things aren’t working right. Unreliable.”
“And how long — subjective time — is the trip?”
His grin tilted. “You think I give out that information? Figure about a year, and you won’t be too disappointed either way.”
She had almost decided to drop the matter and leave when Osallin spoke. “Did I forget to mention, Captain Tregare, that Ms. Obrigo is a Hulzein protégée? I believe you occasionally do business with Hulzein agents, other than myself?”
“Yeah.” Tregare nodded. “Okay — half of what I just told you. But no less.”
She could not resist asking, “What about the other bidders?”
Tregare scowled at her. “What you do on this ship is ride it. What you don’t do is ask questions. You got it?”
Again she wavered; did she want to travel under this man’s jurisdiction? Then adrenaline rose to his challenge and spoke for her. “I always ask questions. Everywhere. But I agree — you have the right not to answer. And so do I.”
His smile surprised her. “We lift day after tomorrow, around sunset. Bring your gear aboard two hours early. No time for last-minute stuff; you see?”
“I understand.” Tregare’s hand waved dismissal; the two left his quarters and made their way off the ship.
In the ground car, moving toward Second Site, Osallin said, “Are you sure, Tari?”
“No. Of course not. But I am going.”
The morning of her departure date, Rissa coded a report for Erika — or Frieda — Hulzein. In particular, she directed that her UET holdings be increased. Shortly after noon, she checked out of the First Ever, finding more warmth in Charling’s handshake and “Good luck, Ms. Obrigo” than she had expected.
Osallin accepted her report, promised to forward it “soonest” and drove her to the port. At the foot of Inconnu’s ramp they stood for a moment; he held out his hand. “I wish you well, Tari.”
She took the hand in both of hers. “And I you, Osallin.” Then she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her tears overflowed. “Only now I realize — will I ever see you again? And you
have been like — ”
“An arm of Erika. She has a long reach.”
“And a warm one, comforting. A person needs friends — I have had very few. Good-bye, Osallin. Whenever I send for anything for you to relay to the Hulzeins, there will be a personal message also.”
“I’ll do the same. Here — do that again — the kiss.” She did, then turned and carried her belongings up into Inconnu.
Entering the ship she saw Tregare, several paces from where she stood, shaking his head at the group that surrounded him. She thought, this is no time to bother him, and walked slowly along the corridor she remembered. At the first cross-juncture she was accosted by a young woman wearing frayed UET uniform coveralls.
“You the new passenger?”
“Yes. Where should I put my luggage?” Rissa looked at the girl — about her own age and height but built more sturdily — a dark Caucasian type with strong cheekbones under close-cut curling hair, and a heavy jaw.
“I dunno. The galley for now, maybe — sit and have coffee. Come on.” Rissa followed, sat and accepted a cup of strong, rank coffee. The girl left.
Two sips was all the coffee Rissa wanted. She sat while it cooled and for a time after, while the bench she sat on lost what comfort it first had. When the girl returned, Rissa was both relieved and irritated.
“Come on. Captain says you come with me.” The girl did not offer to help carry Rissa’s belongings. She led her to Tregare’s quarters.
Explosively, Rissa exhaled. “What is this? Why must I carry my gear from one place to another, where I will not be staying?”
Tregare’s voice answered; Rissa had not heard him approach. “You’re staying here, Ms. Obrigo. The rest of the ship is full.”
Before Rissa could protest, the dark girl spoke. “So where do I go?”
Tregare laughed. “No place, Chira — you stay right here. We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”
Chira spat. “I don’t do that stuff. You know that — I don’t.”
Rissa thought, I need this girl on my side. “Neither do I,” she said. “Do not worry.” Sometimes one must lie. She turned to Tregare. “I have bought passage — only that. Or else I leave this ship.”
He reached out a long arm, clenched his fingers in her hair and slowly shook her head from side to side. She thought, I would have to kill him. And I need this ride. Breathing deeply, holding back from any action, she waited to hear what he would say.
“Nobody’s getting off — and here’s where you’re staying, all right. Don’t try to crap me up about how you don’t do this or that, either; I know the Hulzein training program. You got it?”
“Let go of my hair.” When he did, she both-hands brushed it back before saying, “Erika has more than one training program.”
He laughed. “I know,” he said, and left the quarters.
Chira spoke. “You try take that sonbitch away from me, I break you some arms and legs. I — ”
“Chira! I do not want him. I may have to accept him to some extent; I do not know. But I am not your rival or enemy.”
“You better not! I break you.”
Impatient, Rissa shook her head. “Forget that. I — I fight good, Chira.”
“Maybe, maybe not. If you do, why be friends?”
“Why not? And why do you want to keep — that sonbitch, you said?”
“He gives me — a place, here. Not down below, one of the property.”
Rissa shuddered. “Property? This ship is worse than I thought.”
“Worse than I figured, too, when I got on. Hey — you mean it — friends?”
“I mean it, Chira.”
“Me too, then. Look — we drink on it, with Tregare’s best booze!” Chira rummaged in a drawer, brought out a key and unlocked a glass-fronted liquor cabinet. Glasses poured, the two toasted each other.
Liftoff caught Rissa unaware. She had expected a warning announcement and a period of heavy acceleration; instead the process was unheralded, noisy and relatively gentle. Around her the ship vibrated, then slowly quieted.
“Out of atmosphere now,” said Chira. Rissa nodded. A silent pause lengthened. Then Tregare entered.
“Inspection time.” He gestured toward Rissa’s luggage. “Open ‘em up.” Is this the time to defy him? No — not yet. She complied. He searched skillfully, she thought — but did not discover any of the built-in hiding places. He held up the lock box Osallin had obtained for her. “Open it.”
Now was the time; she shook her head. “That is private — Hulzein business.”
“All the more reason. I’m in on a lot of Hulzein business, myself.”
“Not on this; I have my instructions. Why, I cannot open the thing.”
He looked at the box, then back to her. “You almost lie like a Hulzein — but not quite.”
She shrugged. “Believe what you wish. I cannot oblige you.”
He turned the box over in his hands. “Photolock, isn’t it? An old trick.” He put one hand to her nape, holding her, and brought the box to her eyes. “Keep ‘em open!” She did; the scanner, seeing the plastic-aided patterns of Tari Obrigo, did not respond. T
regare released her. “Somebody else’s pattern, then,” he said. “Well, I’ve opened photolocks before.”
“If you try to open this one, do it somewhere else. Or let me out of here — and Chira, also.”
“Booby-trapped, is it? That’s fine; you can tell me how.”
Rissa evaded his reach. “You know Erika better than that. Would she allow me to be a possible weak link? I have no idea what the protection is. It could be any of fifty ways — you know that, if you stop to think.”
“Yeah.” He scratched his head. “All right — if it’s set up that tricky, maybe it’s out of my league anyway. And if you can’t open it yourself, I don’t have to worry you’ve got a weapon in there.”
She laughed. “Is that what you were afraid of?”
His lips twitched; he raised a hand but lowered it without striking her. “Afraid? Don’t use that word to me, you bitch!”
His reaction shocked her. Has he so much fear that he cannot stand even to hear the word? But she said, “Why not, you bastard?”
This time he did slap her. Trained, she moved enough to take the sting out. “I see,” she said. “You can call names but I cannot? This is hardly a good beginning for a friendly relationship.”
His face relaxed; then came his lopsided grin. “Friendly, eh? All right — let’s see you be friendly.”
Without answering, she stood and removed her clothing. “You see? No weapons on my person, either.” She lay supine on the larger of the two beds and slowly, deliberately, flexed her knees to raise and spread her legs.
“Very well,” she said, “let us get on with it. What are you waiting for?”
His mouth opened; he licked his lips. “You know something? You’re not a very feminine woman, are you?”
“I did not have a very feminine upbringing. I am as I am.”
“Yeah — well, we’ll see.” He stripped — the scars on limbs and body startled her — and was ready immediately. Without preliminary, so that briefly she felt pain, he plunged at her like a bull — no finesse or technique, only a rhythmic pounding. Angered, she had impulse to use words and motions she knew to deflate his potency. Then she thought better of it and began to move so as to slow him, to vary his movements and prolong the act. When he climaxed, bellowing like that same bull, he lay spent.