The Captain had stared at the small, simple-looking woman in some bemusement, and shook his head. He knew that Sarah's looks had been altered to hide a powerful Witch, but it was, nevertheless, difficult for him to reconcile the bland, faded blond appearance of the girl, with the ability to move people and objects instantaneously across galactic distances. However, it seemed that she had done it before, and her ability to do so was one reason why she was included in the attempt to rescue enslaved people from the hands of The Organization.
“Well, here we are,” Lindy said as she watched the Scout Ship ascend again, presumably unremarked by anyone except perhaps satellite trackers in orbit, which, according to Jerold, and further information provided by Agency spies, were not continually monitored by human watchers. It might be weeks before someone ran the tapes and would notice that a small space vessel had landed in the middle of the capital city.
“Ft. Marisgate is where we are,” she added. “The original settlement on the world which came to be known as Yukoid after it ended up on the Neotsarian side of the divide between them and the Confederation. Could have gone either way, is my understanding, as far as the population was concerned. One of the more interesting of The Organization worlds, these days. The inhabitants are unwilling to toe every line that the Elites draw in the sand, and don't really have Elites of their own, only the ones that the rest of the Sector foists on them.”
Leon, of the Paxic IV Law Enforcers, came over to loom over her in all his bulk.
“Yes, Boss,” he said in a teasing voice, “we all heard the lecture, and know where we are, at least in general terms. Now, tell us where we're going to go wait out the rest of the night, until there will be people around who can direct us to the address that the Jerold guy gave you. We're supposed to deliver his letter for him, right? And make friends with his folks?”
The missive that they had from Jerold actually was an old-fashioned letter. Lindy had it in an inner pocket, along with a tiny cube which stored holograms, and which the fellows at the Institute of Kordean Studies had filled with holos of the Yukoidian at his work, and with his work mates, as well as a selection of images of Kordea and its night sky.
“The Greencat tells me that there's a large market area close to the ocean-side port of this burg, across the length of this park,” Seer Jon said, pointing. “Markets usually wake up very early; we can probably find someone who can give us information, there.”
**
They found more than information at the Market, which was getting ready for the morning opening when they arrived. The inhabitants of Ft. Marisgate were willing to be friendly to a slightly odd group of strangers, even though—or perhaps especially because—they spoke the common trade lingo of the Galaxy with an unusual accent. A coffee merchant plied them with freshly brewed contents of his first urn of the day, telling them that it did not cost them anything when they would have demurred for the reason that their funds were very limited. When Lindy recited the address of Jerold's relatives which she had memorized, to a few of the curious workers who stopped to greet them at a picnic table, one of the merchants brought out a detailed map of the city, saying that she was welcome to keep it. He even leaned down to pencil in the location of the market, and the address which Lindy had announced.
Sandy pointed out that it might not be wise to descend upon the Lowe clan en masse. They did not want to scare potential allies by showing up on their doorstep in a large group.
“Good thinking,” Lindy said immediately. “Maybe a couple of us could go and make that contact, while the rest of you work on your acts somewhere, maybe even that park we walked through.”
“You people have acts?” the coffee merchant asked.
“'Course they do,” said the map donor. “Why else would an eclectic group get together, if not to entertain the populace?”
“Unless they are rebels from the outlying counties,” threw in a cheery-faced woman who apparently ran a fruit and vegetable stall. “In which case we should send them to Shellion's outfit, to increase his cohort of troublemakers!”
“Shellion's outfit?” Lindy asked, eyebrows raised. “Cohort of troublemakers? Are we talking good, clean, fun, or law-breaking?”
The three merchants looked at one another and laughed.
“A little bit of both,” said the coffee merchant. “Shellion's no criminal the way we in Ft. Marisgate see things, but his people do like to harass those who like to think of themselves as better than everybody else.”
“The Elites, they call themselves,” the fruit and vegetable peddler sniffed. “And they're of the opinion that they can just walk in here anywhere, do and take anything they please, and we ought to be grateful to just breathe the same air as they do!”
“Ah,” said Seer Jon. “I have heard a bit about such people. I wouldn't mind the opportunity to tell the fortunes of a few of that type. It would be fun.”
His grin was wicked.
“Watch yourself, Seer Jon,” Lindy admonished him, wagging a finger in his direction. “We don't want any trouble, if we can help it.”
“You tell fortunes?” the map donor asked the Seer. “If you people are short of coin you should set up shop at the edge of this picnic area. One of the little tables over there.” He pointed. “You'd make some money even on a quiet morning like this looks to be. People always want their fortunes told.”
The Seer looked questioningly at Lindy, and at her nod, he stood up, pulled out his pack of cards (wrapped in a bit of colourful silk cloth), and examined the small tables that the merchant had pointed out.
“The one farthest from the hubbub, if hubbub there will be,” he said. “Under the tree.”
Everyone thought that it was a good choice, and agreed with nods.
“Maybe Sandy and I could try to hone our musical act here at the Market, too,” Leon suggested. “Assuming that no-one objects. I strum a kantel, and she sings. Quiet, peaceful stuff at such an early hour. We could lay a cap on the ground, so that those who like the music can express their appreciation, if they wish, with a coin or two.”
“Splendid,” said the fruit and vegetable seller. “Nobody will mind. It's a great idea! Music in the morning, and fortunes told, too! I love it when travellers stop to work when they pass through!”
“Lindy, I assume that you're taking Sunny with you to check out that address,” Kami said. “Do you want me along with the two of you, or should I get the location where a person might find this Shellion character? I'm kind of curious about a fellow who has what it takes to harass the Elites.”
“Don't tell me you know more about those Elite creatures than you're admitting,” said the coffee merchant, with a curious glance at Kami. “Though I've got to say that your style would fit in well with Shellion's crew. Got another map that he could borrow, Doric?”
Doric produced another map, and the coffee merchant made the necessary notations on it with his pen. Seer Jon patted the Greencat's head, sharing, Lindy guessed, some thoughts with the sentient animal. She got up and settled beside Kami.
“The Greencat is coming with you, Kami,” the Seer said. “She can be a very useful companion.”
Kami grinned.
“If you say so, Seer Jon,” he replied. “I'm assuming that you don't think that Lindy and Sunny need either me or the Greencat.”
“Lindy, as I imagine that you've noticed, is a very capable woman. She may be sister, not mother, to Sunny, but she can be fierce about protecting her. And I have the feeling that the inhabitants of this city are, mostly, helpful and kind. I should expect that the folk that we're supposed to contact will fit that description.”
“If I thought that anyone of you was in danger in this town,” said Leon, flexing his bulky arm muscles, “I'd insist that either Sandy or I accompany you wherever you go. I've got a pretty good nose for trouble, but I'm not smelling any right now.”
“Your Seer is right. People in this city are, in the main, good, law-abiding folk, ready to help those who need a bit of
a leg up,” said the coffee merchant. “Trouble, when there's that, usually comes from those who have come here from off-planet, those who have decided, on what grounds, I fail to understand, that they are our superiors, and have the right to tell us what to do, and what not to do. I suppose that out in the hinterlands you don't really see much of them, though? They're lazy bastards, and don't stray too far from the biggest cities.”
**
“I guess that coffee-seller gave us our back-story,” Sunny said to Lindy as they walked along the route that the Yukoidians had plotted out for them on the map which Lindy consulted whenever a question of where they might be arose.
They had decided to walk to the Lowe Family residence, keeping with the image that they were projecting, that of country folk a little short on cash, come to do a bit of adventuring in the city. As their new friends had explained, the walk was quite substantial; they had to expect to traipse for well over an hour. However, it was a nice morning for a long walk; a late summer, or an early autumn day in the part of the world into which they had been dropped. Yukoid's sun was pleasantly warm; the two women speculated that by midday, or the afternoon, the weather might become hot.
“It's a good thing that Jerold was from a dry part of Yukoid,” Lindy said with a laugh. “More comfortable for us.
“You're right about the coffee guy handing us a perfect back-story, by the way. It's always a very good thing when that happens. People will accept you more easily, and won't question your motives, if they can slot you nicely into some scenario which makes sense to them. Jerold did mention, when I asked him my thousand questions, that probably our best bet was to pretend to be from the hinterlands. Seems that he was right about that.”
**
Kami and the Greencat had the shorter walk. Whereas Lindy and Sunny were heading into what amounted to a middle class enclave, the direction Kami's instructions were taking him, was a much grittier neighbourhood. Most of the buildings were old apartment blocks, possibly filled with old, elegant features inside, but drab on the outside, with the air of having seen better days. There were not many boulevard trees, although Kami noted with interest that there was a small park, the size of a single lot, he figured, on almost every block. On his borrowed map these were termed “pocket parks”, and each one of them was grass-covered, had trees and shrubs scattered about, and boasted a couple of picnic tables on the grass. Sometimes there was some basic playground equipment as well: a sandbox, usually, and a swing hung from the sturdy branch of a thick tree. The parks were used; toddlers and preschoolers played in the sand, and argued over the swings, while parents or creche-workers (he did not know which—perhaps there were both) gossiped over hot or cold drinks at the picnic tables.
“Must be children from the apartment blocks,” Kami muttered to himself.
Useful, the pocket-parks, he mused. Had they not been there, there would have been few places in the area where children could play outside. Or where the adults could sit around and exchange news in the sunshine, on a beautiful late summer day.
Shellion's address seemed to refer to the whole bottom floor of one of the blocks of flats. Or perhaps it referred to the whole building; Kami was not quite sure how that worked. There was what looked like a coffee shop in one corner of the edifice, but it was in no way designated as a separate business. It didn't even have a name plate, although on this sunny day the large, sliding doors had been pushed open, and tables and chairs, with their patrons, spilled out onto the paved expanse between the building and the street.
Maybe the cafe was the best place to ask about Shellion, Kami mused. The worst that could happen, he figured, was that he'd be directed elsewhere. Besides, a fair portion of the clientele sported the shaved head and the bearded look that he himself wore.
“Hey, is that your cat?” one of the patrons, a slightly scruffy-looking young woman, yelled out to him, as he waded into the area of the tables, with the Greencat beside him. “What a cool animal! Is she dangerous?”
Kami stopped his progress, and turned to look at her. He caressed the Greencat's neck.
“I think that the Greencat would be insulted if she was considered to be anyone's property,” he replied to the questioner. “She is a sentient being, and can communicate with those of my friends who are capable of mindspeech, which I, it so happens, am not. And she can be dangerous, but only if violence seems to be a sensible response to some situation. I feel honoured that she chose to accompany me today; she could have opted to do something else.”
“You're obviously new here,” said the fellow seated next to the woman.
Kami took in, with amusement, the warning tone of the voice. He must have been the woman's boyfriend, still unsure enough of his position that he reacted to a newcomer with an interesting animal, as to a threat.
“I'm looking for Shellion, actually,” he said, keeping his voice neutral.
“Naturally,” said the woman.
She, obviously, had no intention of letting a preening male, whether or not she was sleeping with him, dictate any terms to her. She got up from her chair.
“I can show you to his office.”
“Dini, must you? We just sat down to talk,” the fellow whom Kami had taken for a boyfriend, protested.
“Lew, remember, I work here, in Shellion's office. This is a part of my job,” Dini said in a steady voice.
“But it's your coffee break, and I wanted to talk to you,” Lew sighed. “It seems like you're never free to talk to me.”
“I'll be back in a moment,” Dini said. “Then I'll listen to you.”
“I'm not going to hit on her, don't worry, Lew,” Kami said with a grin. “There's this woman I know, a very athletic-looking blonde, brainy as anything. If I'm going to hit on anybody, she's at the top of my list.”
The other people at Dini and Lew's table burst out laughing.
“Hey, I like your style,” one of the other women shouted to him.
“And I'd give a lot to meet this blonde!” added one of the guys.
Dini sighed as she led Kami among the tables to the back of the cafe, and a door into the building.
“I rather made the mistake of spending a night with Lew, not long ago, after a slightly drunken party,” she explained. “He's a nice enough guy, not half-bad in the sack. But I didn't join Shellion's crew to become some man's Mama-doll, which is what we call the ladies who settle down and worry about what their men are up to when they're out of sight. I want to see some action; I'm just as capable of it as the guys are!”
“You won't get any argument to that from me,” said Kami. “I've known some pretty capable women, during my lifetime!”
“And the athletic blonde is one of them, right?” Dini said with a grin.
They had reached the hall behind the cafe, and she pushed open a door which led into a messy office.
“I brought you another would-be recruit, Shellion,” she said to the man seated behind a desk which clearly had seen better days. “Oops, I never did get your name, I'm afraid, the man with the big cat!”
“I'm Kami,” Kami said, and leaned down to caress the Greencat's nape.
The man behind the desk was a lean, hard-muscled specimen with intelligent eyes, and a brown beard. He, apparently, chose not to shave his head; he had curly hair almost exactly the same shade as Jerold Lowe's. He had a pile of small electronic devices on the desk in front of him; he appeared to have been tinkering with one of them. He lay it next to the pile as he greeted Kami, and told Dini to go and continue her interrupted break.
“Kami,” he repeated. “Rather an unusual name. And you speak with an accent. Travelled a long distance?”
Kami grinned at him.
“Smart man,” he said. “I suppose you worry about infiltration?”
“There are always attempts at that. Some of them are merely members of rival local gangs. They're not a problem; my crew doesn't get into local turf wars. Those who want to control what petty crime there is in this town are welcome to do so,
as far as I'm concerned, but some guys just won't believe that I'm out to fry some bigger fish.
“You didn't answer my question, though?”
“Yeah, the Greencat and I have travelled far,” Kami replied. “Are those communicators you've got there. Having trouble with them?”
“Yeah. Shitty quality; they're always on the blink. And the fellow who knows how to fix them was called back home to the little town he hails from. His Mom is sick and the family is worried that she won't last much longer. He won't be coming back in any hurry, I don't think; his kin will make sure of that. And I'm not much good with electronics.”
“Want me to take a look? I'm a bit of a whiz with gadgets, even if I say so myself.”
Shellion pushed the pile, and the one he had been playing with, towards the other side of the desk, and indicated the chair there. He pulled a box of wires and components from a drawer and set it beside the pile.
“Be my guest,” he said. “This box has the stuff that Roman used to baby those things into working for at least a few days at a time.”
Kami picked up the com that Shellion had been handling, and opened it up.
“You're right; shitty manufacture,” he said. “Your Roman seems to have been a bit sloppy in his workmanship, too; let's see if I can't tighten a few wires here and there, reconnect others. Maybe we'll get a working com out of this yet.”
He dug into the box for the correct tools; fortunately they were there.
He spent about an hour repairing and improving the communicators on Shellion's desk, while the Greencat lay on the floor beside his chair, taking a little nap. Dini came in while he worked, had a whispered consultation with her boss, and settled behind another desk to do some paperwork. Shellion surprised Kami by going out at one point to fetch some coffee and pastries from the cafe for all three of them.
“They should all work for months, maybe years, now,” Kami said when he was done.
“Where'd you learn to do work like that?” Shellion asked, after expressing his thanks. “You didn't learn to be that precise and careful at any of the training places in the small towns around. The schools here in the city are better, but I think that if you'd gone to one of those, you'd be a known quantity to my crew. We know a lot of people, and I've been looking for an electronics expert for some time.
Revenge of the Catspaw Page 21