The guidance arrow flashed sharply against the windscreen, and a string of translucent letters trailed across the plastic beneath it: destination approaching. Obediently, she adjusted the throttle, slowing the ‘cat almost to a walking pace, and looked around warily. She was almost exactly in the center of a cultivated area, one set of buildings just visible in a stand of trees a kilometer or two to the north, another, more distant, sprawling across an expanse of some low-growing vegetable. The arrow swung abruptly to the left. Heikki started to swing the control yoke, and stopped, looking for the road. It took her a moment to realize that the machine really was pointing to the rutted dirt track between the two fields. She grimaced, adjusted the ‘cat’s tracking, and turned cautiously onto the ill-made road. For a few minutes, the towering fronds of neocale hid everything to either side, and then the road turned sharply, to end in a dusty turnaround enclosed by thickly growing hedges. Another fastcat was parked there, next to an ancient treaded cultivator with a digging bar cocked up over its rear cowling like the tail of some enormous insect. Heikki pulled her ‘cat to a stop next to the other, and pulled the canopy release. The roof folded back, whining a little in protest, and she pushed herself up until she was sitting on the back of the driver’s seat, bracing herself against the top of the windscreen.
From that vantage point, she could see into the next field, beyond the hedge that marked its border. Several people were at work there, and a standard-model robosurveyor was trundling busily along an invisible guideline. Heikki raised a hand to wave, unsure if anyone was even looking in her direction, and saw one of the distant figures put a hand to its mouth. A moment later, the nearer of the other two—a wiry shape barely distinguishable as female at this distance—turned and waved back, then beckoned to her companion. They spoke for a moment, and then the woman started toward the turnaround.
“Dam’ Heikki?” she called, as soon as she was within earshot.
“Yes. Dam’ Alexieva?”
“We’ve only got one more baseline to do,” Alexieva shouted. “Would you mind waiting?”
Heikki shook her head, and then, realizing the gesture was probably not readable at a distance, called back, “No, take your time.”
Alexieva lifted a hand in acknowledgement, and turned away. Left to herself, Heikki leaned forward against the windscreen, watching the robot move across the field. At some point in the morning, the sky had clouded over, but the change had been so gradual she had not noticed. Now, however, the wind was picking up, tossing little swirls of dust across the turnaround. To either side, the neocale dipped and rose with the breeze. Heikki frowned slightly, and glanced to her left, toward the southeast. Sure enough, a bank of clouds was rising there, not as heavy as the previous day’s storm, but still impressive. I hadn’t realized it was afternoon already, she thought, and in the same moment realized belatedly that she was hungry. After a moment’s thought, she searched her belt pockets until she found a crumpled ration bar, and ate it without really considering the too-sweet taste. The robot was moving in short arcs now, and she glanced at the sky again, hoping Alexieva would finish before the storm broke.
The first of the storm clouds were almost directly overhead when Alexieva recalled her robot and lifted a hand to wave the others in. She paused at the edge of the field to give some last-minute instruction to her people, then pushed through the hedge and came to stand at the fastcat’s side. Heikki looked down at her, seeing the other woman’s fine dark hair stir in the wind.
Alexieva pushed the loose strands out of her eyes, frowning slightly. “Dam’ Heikki. I’m glad you were able to see me now.”
“No problem,” Heikki answered absently. Alexieva was a small, sun-weathered woman, dressed despite that in trousers and a worn shirt that left her back and wiry arms mostly exposed. There was nothing at all remarkable about her, except her lightless eyes. They were brown, Heikki thought, but darkly intense, and marked at the corners with fine wrinkles: not the eyes of someone who compromised easily.
“Shall we talk here?” Alexieva went on briskly, seemingly unaware of the scrutiny, and Heikki brought herself back to the matter at hand. “Or if you could give me a ride back toward Lowlands, we could save some time.”
I’d forgotten Precinct manners, Heikki thought, with an inward grin. “No problem,” she said aloud. “We might as well talk on the way.”
Alexieva nodded dispassionately. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Heikki nodded in return, and reached into the cab to pop the passenger door. Alexieva swung herself inside, glancing up at the sky as she did so.
“Better close up soon.”
Heikki felt a stab of annoyance, but had to admit that the clouds were closing fast. She slid back into the cab, and manipulated the controls to close the roof, then almost in the same movement switched on the engine and the map computer. “Coordinates?”
“I can put them in, if you’d like.” Alexieva’s voice made her preference clear.
Heikki’s eyebrows rose. “Go ahead,” she said, with a mildness that would have warned her friends. Even Alexieva seemed to sense something, and she looked up from the miniature keyboard.
“I have an appointment at 0300. I can set shortcuts easier than tell you about them.”
It made sense, Heikki thought, but I don’t have to like your interfering. Nevertheless, she nodded, and touched the controls, easing the ‘cat back out of the turnaround. “You got my message, then,” she said aloud.
Alexieva nodded. “You got my name from Ser Ciceron, and you’re looking for a guide to travel in the Massif, probably along the upper Asilas. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Is this the Lo-Moth latac?”
“I’ve been hired to find the wreck, and salvage anything I can,” Heikki answered, and darted a quick glance at the other woman. Alexieva was frowning, but whether it was answer or merely concentration was impossible to tell.
“You won’t find anything,” Alexieva said, after a moment.
“Why not?”
There was a fractional hesitation before the surveyor answered. “There’s a native hominid, called an orc that lives up on the Massif. If there were human remains, the orcs found them already—maybe ate them, if it was a breeding group that hasn’t had contact with us before. Regardless, they’ll have disturbed the wreck site. You’ll have a hell of a time proving causes.”
“My contract is primarily to find the crash site,” Heikki said.
“Oh.” Alexieva looked at her hands, folded too tightly in her lap, then looked up again as though she’d come to a decision. “Yes, I’d be interested in the job.”
But why go on about the orcs? Heikki wondered. “The orcs didn’t use to disturb machine remains,” she said aloud, experimentally, and there was another little silence.
Heikki risked a sideways glance, to see Alexieva frowning warily at the blank communications console.
“Things’ve changed,” the surveyor said at last, and Heikki frowned.
“How changed? And why?”
“Who knows why?” Alexieva shrugged. “Probably human intervention.”
A good catchall explanation, Heikki thought, except that human beings don’t go into the Massif on that large a scale. “Changed how?” she said again.
Again there was that slight hesitation, before Alexieva said, a fraction too loudly, “Nesting habits—they’re moving into new areas.”
“The orcs rear their young in caves,” Heikki said calmly. “Of which there are a limited number on the Massif, giving the orcs a set of reasonably well-defined breeding grounds, each one of which is occupied by a single breeding troupe. Nesting habits outside the limited breeding area have always been widely varied, depending on the available terrain. Orcs will cheerfully attack human beings who become separated from their vehicles, but have always shown a distinct aversion even to non-functional machinery, until and unless provoked into a killing frenzy.” She looked sideways as she spoke, and saw dull color rising under A
lexieva’s tan.
“They’ve become less shy of machines lately,” Alexieva said.
And I think that’s a lie, Heikki thought. It’s a statement I’ll look into, at any rate. “Then I take it you’re not interested in the job, after all.”
“I didn’t say that.” Alexieva looked up sharply, frowning. Her cheeks were still red under the weathered tan.
“You surprise me,” Heikki said, and waited.
“I simply wanted to be sure you were aware of the variables,” Alexieva answered. “No, I would be interested in the work—at standard Guild rates, you were offering?”
But would I be interested in hiring you? Heikki wondered. An interesting question. “Guild rates are a little steep, especially on a world where—forgive me if I’m blunt—you’re unlikely to have the latest equipment.”
There was a little intake of breath from the woman beside her, but when Alexieva answered, her voice was unexpectedly mild. “That’s true, I might be able to arrange a rebate.”
Startled, Heikki glanced sideways again. Alexieva’s expression was determinedly neutral, only her dark eyes and a tightness about her lips betraying any anger. And she should be angry, Heikki thought. I’ve insulted her professionalism where a Precincter’s usually most sensitive, the technology gap between the Loop and the Precincts. She must want this job damn badly.
“My intent was to offer half the Guild rate,” she said aloud—which was only half true, in any case, but should give some room for negotiation. “Plus a percentage of any success bonuses, of course.”
“You’ll accept a formal bid?” Alexieva asked.
“Of course.”
“I’ll have one for you tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be glad to look at it,” Heikki said. Somehow, she was not sure how or why, the balance of the interview had changed; Alexieva seemed suddenly to want the job far more than was reasonable. And maybe I’m being unreasonable, she told herself. Maybe she needs the money badly—it wouldn’t be the first time competent people have been beaten down to cut rates out here. If all she’s been doing is boundary surveys, then she probably does need the money. Still, I think I’ll ask at Lo-Moth if there’s anyone else, since Ciceron didn’t want to name anyone, and see if Sten can turn up anything.
“Ah.” Alexieva leaned forward in her seat, pointed toward a low-roofed, nondescript building. “This is the place, here.”
Obediently, Heikki pulled the ‘cat to a stop by the unmetalled side of the road, and manipulated the door controls. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you,” she said automatically, and saw Alexieva scowl as though she’d intended irony. Even then, however, the wiry woman controlled her temper, and slid gracefully from the ‘cat.
“You’ll receive my bid in the morning.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Heikki answered, but Alexieva had already turned away and was hurrying across the dusty ground toward the building’s single entrance. Thunder growled in the distance, and Heikki hastily shut the ‘cat’s door. The rain fell just as the seal cut in.
The downpour began to slow as she eased the ‘cat into the last series of turns that led to the Lo-Moth hostel. She made a face—perfect timing once again— and swung the ‘cat onto the ramp of the underground entrance. Water sheeted up to either side, and she found herself hoping that at least one of Lo-Moth’s employees had been in range. She shook that thought away, and concentrated on finding the workbay that had been reserved for her equipment. It was well-marked, and surprisingly convenient, within twenty-five meters both of the main cargo lift and the entrance to the hostel itself. It was also empty, except for the diagnostic computer sitting against one wall. So Sten’s not back yet, she thought, and slid the ‘cat neatly into the smallest of the available spaces.
Somewhat to her surprise, there was no attendant in sight. She levered herself out of the ‘cat, half expecting someone to appear at any moment, and busied herself hooking the charger cables to the ‘cat’s capacitors. I wish Sten were back, she thought, and glanced around the enormous space. Most of the other bays were empty; those that were not had an oddly suspended look to them, as though the ‘cats and triangle-wheeled crawlers had not been used in some time. And still there was no one in sight. I wonder, she thought suddenly, if they did search our crates. Kasib had put them in the sealed storage area, at the hostel’s lowest level; it would be the work of a moment to find out. She glanced around again, this time looking for nonhuman surveillance, and was rewarded by the sight of two palm-sized cameras hung from the ceiling grid. One was focussed on her bay, the other on the entrance to the hostel. Quite deliberately, she stepped out of the first camera’s range, and a third glided into view almost at once, swivelling from side to side in search of any movement. Right, then, she thought, and started boldly for the cargo lift.
Before she reached it, an almost invisible door opened in the wall beside it, and Kasib appeared. “Can I help you, Dam’ Heikki?”
Several remarks sprang instantly to mind, and none of them were helpful. Heikki curbed herself sternly, and turned to face him. “Yes. I understand this leads to sealed storage?”
“Yes, Dam’, that’s right.” Kasib’s eyes were fixed on her unblinking, one hand in the pocket of his shapeless coveralls, and Heikki felt a sudden chill of fear. He has a blaster, she thought suddenly, irrationally, and cast about for something to say that would distract him.
“Will there be pallets down there, or will we have to use grav-units?”
“There’ll be pallets if you want, or you can use the units,” Kasib answered, his expression easing slightly. He slipped his hand from his pocket, hooked it instead in the loop of his empty toolbelt. In spite of herself, Heikki let out a sigh of relief, and knew he saw.
“Anything else, Dam’?”
Heikki shook her head, irrationally annoyed at her own fear. “No, that’ll be all.” She made herself turn her back on him, though the space between her shoulder blades tingled all the way to the hostel entrance. She sighed again as the door sealed itself behind her, her fear giving way completely to anger. I’m behaving like an idiot, an inexperienced coward, jumping at shadows; it was impossible he had a blaster, or—if he had one— that he would use it…. She paused then, just inside the archway leading to the hostel’s main lobby, anger draining away. I am not a fool, I’ve been in bad situations before—and I think he had his blaster in his hand then, ready to use it. It could’ve been security, but I want to make damn sure Sten knows about it before he goes down to collect our things.
The lobby was empty of human beings, though a robot cleaner hummed to itself as it polished the mosaic floor. The concierge clicked and sprang to life as she passed its column, too-perfect voice saying, “Dam’ Heikki.”
She stopped, turning to face its cameras. “Yes?”
“There is a message cube waiting in your suite. A private and personal message arrived for you on the fast mail.”
“Thanks,” Heikki said, and then, because that was not a response the program would understand, “Its arrival has been noted.”
“Thank you, Dam’ Heikki.” The machine went dormant again, leaving her alone in the empty space.
The unnerving quiet continued as she made her way across the lobby to the second bank of lifts, and all the way up to the fifth floor. I can’t think when I was last in a place this empty, she thought—if I ever was. It’s not natural…. But then she had reached the suite, and the cube that waited in the center of the living room floor. It was a standard mailgram, a block of super-tough translucent plastic, each of its faces a quarter-meter square. Santerese, Heikki thought, her spirits lifting in spite of herself, and crossed to the workroom . to retrieve her personal remote. After a moment’s hesitation, she brought the minisec as well, and triggered its field. She knelt on the thick carpet beside the cube, feeling across its unmarked faces for the shallow depression that would receive the key. When she’d found it, she sat back on her heels, adjusted the remote to her private mailcode, a
nd laid it into the keyhole. The mailgram glowed, and projected a hissing cloud of static. Heikki sighed, and reached through the swirl of light to touch a second codesequence.
The picture cleared then, and the hiss became a familiar voice, backed by the gentle sound of waves. Santerese stood on what appeared to be a low balcony overlooking a pale grey beach and a brilliant blue ocean, twin moons hanging in the daylit sky behind her shoulder. There were single-sail boards in the water behind her, sport craft rather than anything useful, and strollers in brightly colored impractical draperies moved along the beach below. Despite her surroundings, Santerese was scowling, and Heikki’s eyebrows rose.
“Well, doll,” the projection said, “I guess you can see I’m not at the seamine, nor am I likely to be there. You won’t believe this one, but apparently PAMCo is also owned by Tremoth Astrando, and they have some kind of corporate policy about not hiring one company twice on a job like this. They’ve got some locals who say they can do the work—” Her voice was brisk and contemptuous. “—so they’ve paid the cancellation fees and transport, and as an apology they offered me and Corsell a five-day at the better of the two resorts—which they also happen to own, by the way. I’ve accepted, and so has Corsell, but I don’t mind telling you I’m pretty pissed.”
Mighty Good Road Page 11