Mahra and Jayeer looked at each other bemusedly as Timon graced them with a foolish grin.
Pellis spent longer than normal preparing himself for the scheduled rendezvous. He appeared several times in the rec seeking approval from both before he was finally satisfied. Mahra found herself wondering about this Marina Samaris and how exactly she slotted into Timon's past, especially with the amount of trouble he was taking. This amount of preparatory preening had to mean something. His final promenade saw him decked in a formal, matte-black, one-piece suit buttoning across the shoulder, offset by a deep-red, drop cape. He had even neatly curled the ends of his moustache. Mahra raised an eyebrow as he stalked from the rec and out. She couldn't help being amused. The red boots had stayed.
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Timon made his way out of the dock humming to himself. The wound he had sustained on Belshore was almost healed and gave him only the occasional twinge as he strode confidently through the clusters of idle ships. It was quite a distance to his destination, but he felt like walking. He had come out making sure he was armed, but there was little worry of running into anything untoward here — not in his home territory. He had a real fondness for New Helvetica and always felt that little bit more at ease when he was here. He knew all sides of it, the well to do and the darker aspects it concealed.
Trouble could be found on New Helvetica if one was not careful, but only in particular areas. The sterile surrounds of the well-to-do classes who frequented this world also brought security and safety. The underbelly only touched their lives when they wanted it to and then, only if it suited their devious machinations. Some would never encounter it knowingly and would likely avert their eyes if they did. He liked it when it was a matter of choice. It was so much more pleasant than the circumstance that came with Belshore. On Belshore one just didn't have that choice.
The Barast Skewer nestled high in the old section of the city. This quarter was definitely non-commercial and it abounded with high-walled residences covered with vines and surrounded by extensive gardens. The restaurant was fronted by a gravelled courtyard filled with neatly parked trans from the market's lux end. As he crunched up the drive he smiled at the surprised look of the liveried doorman who stood at the top of a set of wide stone steps flanked by burning torches. The doorman was obviously not accustomed to greeting people arriving by foot.
Making a show of ignoring him, Timon climbed the wide stairs to the tall glass front and walked right past him. He was intercepted as soon as he stepped inside, by a cadaverous individual who looked him up and down with an air of disdain.
"Excuse me, Mezzer, but have you a pre-booking?" he asked with a sniff. "I fear that we are extremely full tonight. Perhaps Mezzer would like directions to another establishment that could accommodate him?" The tone dripped superiority. It was obvious that Timon was not the type for The Barast Skewer.
"No. I'll be fine right here, thank you. I'm meeting a Mez Samaris" he answered cheerfully.
The transformation was astounding. "But of course, Mezzer. Please forgive me. Mez Samaris is expecting you. Please. Please. This way."
At the mention of Marina's name, the supercilious tone had disappeared from maître d's voice and been replaced by one of almost fawning respect. Timon was impressed despite himself. Marina had certainly come a long way.
He was ushered to a table in one of the better positions of the house. It afforded a clear view over the length of the New Helvetian cityscape. It was also far enough away from the kitchen and the toilets to have prestige. Timon noticed immediately that it was obvious enough to be seen and to see from, without suffering intrusion by other patrons. He took a moment or two to admire the view, both of them. The snow-capped peaks in the distance appeared as light shadows against the evening sky's darkness. Marina sat resplendent in evening dress, her hands clasped beneath her chin as she looked him over in return. Her lips were somewhere between a pout and a smile as he seated himself opposite, unclipping the cape and letting it drop to the back of his chair.
"Late, Timon, but not too late," she scolded as he settled himself comfortably.
"Marina," he answered, reaching over, and taking one of her jewel-studded hands in his. "It's been a long time. Fire, but you're as radiant as ever."
"You're not doing too badly yourself, Timon my love," she said approvingly. "I'm glad you could make it."
They were interrupted momentarily by a waiter who took their drink orders then discretely left them to peruse the menus. Timon noted immediately that there was not a price to be seen anywhere.
What was the old adage? he thought to himself. If you had to ask the price, you couldn't afford it. Marina seemed to be doing quite well for herself.
They passed the next two hours in idle conversation, catching up on old times and what had happened to each in the intervening period. The food and wine that passed between their conversations were exquisite.
When Timon finally sat back, hand toying with the handle of a small cup of syrupy dark kahveh he felt overwhelmed by a sense of satisfaction. He savoured the feeling for a moment or two longer before he could bring himself to speak.
"Marina, this is all very pleasant, but you've not asked me here for the sake of old times, have you? We've had a wonderful meal. It has been a joy to see you again. But don't you think it’s time to tell me the real reason? You've softened me up for something, and now you can tell me what it is."
"Ah, Timon my dear, I'm not that transparent, am I?" she said tilting her head a little to one side and fluttering her eyelashes at him. Adopting a more serious tone she continued. "No, lover, you're right of course. I have a little problem. Well, not exactly me, but a close friend of mine. He has something he wants transported offworld discretely. It just so happens that I noticed you had The Dark Falcon registered for hire and, well ... here we are."
"Mm-hmm. It has got to be a little more complex than that, Marina, for all this. What's so hard about getting something off New Helvetica anyway. Is it something I should know about?"
"Well, yes, it is a little more complex than simple transportation. The problem is not so much what it is, but there's another party interested in it."
"How do you mean?"
"The package itself is harmless enough as far as I'm aware. It's just that the other party are, well ... " Marina leaned forward and lowered her voice. "We'd just rather not have them involved."
Timon frowned. What mysterious party could it be on New Helvetica that he didn't know about? Here he was running away from something that spoke of Sirona involvement only to be offered something that bore the signature of some mysterious group or organisation that clearly offered some sort of threat. He thought about it for a moment or two and slowly a suspicion began to form in his mind, one that caused an almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes as he asked his next question.
"That's quite interesting Marina. But why me? Why The Dark Falcon? Out of all the ships in dock at the moment, why mine?"
"Why, Timon dear. I don't think the answer to that is very hard. I know you. I know you're reliable and I think I can trust you. I also know you can look after yourself in a tight spot. There's nothing particularly strange about that is there?" She narrowed her eyes in turn and studied him. "What exactly is going on in your head, my love?"
"Oh nothing, Marina. It's just funny how things happen sometimes. That's all," he said, his suspicions a little allayed. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. "Why a tight spot? Do you expect trouble?"
"I'm afraid so, Timon. It's not as simple as it sounds. The exercise has been tried once already. The people involved are, you might say, no longer with us." She paused to let this information sink in before continuing. "So, even with knowing that, are you interested?"
Timon leaned back and considered. He took one final sip of his kahveh, rolling the bitter liquid round his mouth before answering.
"Aye, Marina. I think I am. I think I am."
"Good. That's settled then. I thought I could rely on you. I thin
k my friend will be in agreement, but we have to go through the motions. You know where my place is?" Timon nodded; he remembered it well. "Good. I'll expect you there before noon tomorrow."
She signalled with a raised eyebrow and the waiter appeared in a moment at her side. "Could you arrange a trans for the gentleman please and bring me the bill while you're at it." She waited until he had disappeared before continuing. "You know, just being with you, Timon Pellis, has brought back some good memories. It's good to see you."
Timon stood and fastened his cape back around his shoulders, understanding the evening's session was at a close. Leaning across the table he stooped to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "It has been good seeing you too, Marina. Sure. it's been far too long." He held her hand for a moment longer before placing it back gently on the table. "Until tomorrow then."
"Uh, Timon, tomorrow, it would help if you don't let on how much I've told you. Just that there is a job to do ... if that's all right."
Timon shrugged, not really understanding the reason for the request but willing to go along with it anyway. He bowed his head to her and walked calmly out the door, ignoring the staff who now fussed around him.
The trans was already waiting for him as he stepped through the door into the chill night air, his breath fogging in front of him. He had a lot to consider on the short journey back and a lot to discuss when he arrived.
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Valdor was a little bemused the next morning when Marina ushered in the tall figure of Timon Pellis. This flamboyant character was not exactly what he had expected when she'd told him that she had a potential candidate. The tall man with the red boots sat down at the table opposite and thrust forward a large hand.
"Timon, Timon Pellis. How do you do? I hear from Marina that you're looking for someone to do a small job for you."
Valdor flicked a look toward their host, who simply nodded and shrugged. All right, so the first hurdle had been crossed.
"You've heard right, uh, Timon is it?"
"Aye, Timon, Timon Pellis." The man grinned under his large moustache.
"So, tell me Timon, have you got a ship?"
"Ah, that I have. She's a beauty she is, that is if you discount the few scuffmarks on her body at the moment. They won’t stay long though."
So far so good. Valdor couldn't quite place Pellis's accent and that bothered him just a little. It was a sort of unidentifiable mix and he suspected the man used it to advantageous effect.
"Is this ship of yours up to a long haul ... say to the Rim?"
"Now I'm sure she'd make that trip without much strain. The Rim you say? Now then, this sounds even more like the sort of thing I'm looking for. Where on the Rim are you talking about?"
"No. Not so fast, Pellis. Why are you so interested in a small job like this for a start? By the look of you, someone like you might be able to find a thing or two in a better league than what I'm offering. Why are you interested in what I have to offer?"
"Oh, no doubt I could find something a bit more glamorous. But you see I have a vested interest in being out of the immediate vicinity in the near future."
"Hm-hmm. And why would that be?" Valdor asked with genuine interest.
"Well ... we ran into what you might call a slight bit of bother just off Belshore. As a result, there are one or two people we don't exactly want to run into in the coming short future. If you know what I mean?"
Valdor mulled over this last piece of information. Anybody who was mixing it up on Belshore could certainly looked after themselves. If Pellis had run into trouble off that world, then the odds were that the ship was built to take it too. He had a potential candidate that was certainly worth considering a little further. Unfortunately, Valdor didn't have that much time to waste. Besides, he already had Marina's seal of approval. Normally that would be good enough on its own, but in the current circumstances, things were less certain.
"So, Mezzer Timon Pellis, is it?" Valdor waited for a nod of confirmation. "Do you have a crew that goes with this ship? Actually, more to the point, can you trust them?"
"Now that would be a positive to both."
"All right then, can I meet them, and if so, when?"
"Well, I'd say there was no time like the present, would you? That is if you haven't got any other plans ..."
"No. Agreed. Just keep in mind that this doesn't mean that you've been accepted for the job."
"Fine, understood. Nor does it necessarily mean that we've accepted it. Now if you'd like to come with me, my companions are waiting in a bar a few blocks down. Before we set off though, have you a name? I can't refer to you simply as The Gentleman, now can I?" Pellis asked with a hint of a smile.
Valdor thought for a moment before responding. "No, fair point. You can call me Milnus."
He shot a glance at Marina as he gave the name but her face remained impassive.
"Aye. That will do," Timon responded in a tone that had Valdor wondering just how much he might know, or at least suspect. "Let us be off then Mezzer, um, Milnus," Pellis added as he stood and made his way toward the door.
Valdor watched him from behind as he followed. This Timon Pellis was a big man and carried himself with a deal of self-assurance that he appreciated. So far, his gut instinct was ringing no alarm bells and that augured well for what he had in mind. Added to Marina's seal of approval, it was almost enough to make him feel comfortable — at least for the moment.
Pellis attempted to probe him with questions as they walked the few blocks to the bar, but Valdor simply responded with half-framed non-committal answered until the man gave up. When they reached the front of the establishment, Pellis halted for a moment and held up his hand for Valdor to stop.
"Listen, Mezzer Milnus, if you wouldn't mind giving me a couple of minutes alone with them before we talk. I think it would work out better." He fixed Valdor with a steady look.
"Whatever you think, Pellis" Valdor answered, liking the man's directness.
They headed inside and Valdor found himself a spot at the bar and ordered a drink. He sipped as he watched Pellis in animated discussion with his two crew members. One, the woman, sported some kind of animal on her shoulder, the other was short and fat and seemed to be the one doing most of the talking. They were an interesting trio. If they turned out to be to his liking, he supposed he'd have to check the ship as well, just to make sure.
After more discussions and much hand waving the trio seemed to reach some sort of agreement, because Pellis stood and beckoned him over to their table with a smile. Nodding, Valdor strolled over to join them.
"Mezzer Milnus, these are my crew, Jayeer Sind and Mahra Kaitan," Pellis said indicating each in turn.
Valdor gave both a quick assessment as he nodded to them. The one called Jayeer wore thick lenses and a patina of sweat. The woman was obviously fit and her gaze roamed the room, constantly on the alert. An idea was beginning to form in Valdor's mind. The pet she carried was somewhat out of the ordinary and it probably attracted attention to her, but she was the sort who attracted attention anyway. Then again, the same could be said for the man Pellis. The good feeling he was having was growing steadily by the minute. After some more probing, Valdor decided to outline what he wanted them to do. He sketched the road brushstrokes of the task without filling in the details.
Having told them what he felt was enough, Valdor moved back to the bar to give them a few minutes to discuss it among themselves. He was quickly called back over to join the huddled group. They agreed to meet back at their ship later the same evening. Pellis explained to him that it was likely to be one or two days before they could leave, subject to successful completion of repairs to the ship. That suited Valdor fine. It would give him time to have the gene set prepared. Armed with directions for the rendezvous, Valdor left to pick up the sample and to make his own plans. The later meeting also gave him the opportunity to do some research and satisfy himself about the ship itself. While he was waiting for them to be ready, he could get his own network to f
ind out everything they could about this Timon Pellis. He was all right by Marina, but Valdor wouldn't be comfortable until he could verify things for himself.
As he walked, he wondered to himself if he had given them too much information to start with, though the name Kalany was not much for them to go on. He quickly put his doubts to rest. He had learned long ago to trust what he felt and there was nothing yet that made him feel anything but satisfied.
Milnus had briefed him on Phildore's innovation and the idea that had been forming in Valdor's head started to take more shape. He wanted to be very certain this time that the package would not be detected. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could use Phildore's idea to his advantage. What better way to conceal something organic, than to conceal it in something organic? That was what the man Phildore had said. He would have to talk to Milnus and see if it was possible, but if it was ... The only remaining question was who would be the one to carry it.
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After Valdor left, the conversation among the three crew members continued.
"Well," said Timon, "that seemed to go quite adequately. Things seem to be working out. Kalany is far enough out of the way to suit our purposes, wouldn't you say?" He looked at Jayeer who nodded.
"Sorry, Timon," said Mahra. "I'm not familiar with it."
"Primarily agricultural. Staple crop, the wonderful kahveh. They have the best strains in the system. It's pretty much off the main travel routes, so it should keep us conveniently out of the way."
Mahra still had some doubts, but considering the risks they had already taken in the last few days, she decided it was relatively minor.
"Now," said Timon. "This whole thing, and what Marina hinted at, has given me a suspicion about what's going on here. What powerful clandestine group could there be on New Helvetica that we know nothing about?
The Jump Point Page 20