Agents of rivelt, p.27
Agents of Rivelt, page 27
“You’re so…so blonde.”
“Yeah.” She pirouetted. “I told my stylist to make it look like highlights over natural brown. Trying to hide those black roots that will show up all too soon.”
“She did a good job. It looks thinner, too.” Understanding crept into his eyes. “Don’t you like it?”
She quirked her lips. “Oh, a few people have told me it looks great, but…it feels so odd. Kind of like my hair is in zero G while the rest of me is still on Rivelt.”
He chuckled. “Lost a kilo, did you?”
“At least! Your smile looks different with a moustache.”
He rubbed his hand over the fresh growth. “It’s getting long enough to annoy me when I eat. I’ll have to dig out the trimmer attachment for my shaver. Did you get an outfit for your buyer role?”
“Yep. I had a suit made, with interior pockets in the jacket and a reversible blouse. I loaded up on the latest vids and games from Earth, too, just in case I have to chat with some of the locals. Besides…” She shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back and forth. “I don’t have any studying to do, and all the free time is making me crazy. I can’t wait to get underway.”
Vigard magnified the distant image of the Flain station. Enormous freighters hovered, waiting their turn to transfer ore. He glanced at Tracy. “Take local navigation for the final approach.”
She tapped the console to initiate the nav program. “There’s almost as much traffic as the fungi station.”
“Hold the quips for now,” Vigard said. “They take themselves seriously here.” He flipped the comm channel switch and announced his craft’s designation number, which told the docking authority everything they needed to know about the transport’s design type and more.”
A precise voice came over the comm system. “Welcome to the Flain Station. Are you part of the delegation from Earth?”
Interesting. “No,” Vigard said, “but it would be convenient if I could dock near them.”
“Do you have cargo to unload?”
Hm, sounded like they might not give him access to the hold. He had nothing to sell, but he didn’t want to give up the lower hatch access. “No, just a passenger, but I’m looking for outbound transport for both cargo and passengers.”
After a slight pause the voice said, “The nearest dock with cargo access is on the opposite side of the station, but you’ll be on the same level as the other Humans.”
“That will be fine.”
“You may dock at F013. I’m transmitting a navigation chart.”
“Received.” Vigard closed communication. “Huh. They actually bothered to check my transport registration.”
Tracy narrowed her eyes at the navigation chart, then guided the transport to one of the pathways that spiraled in on their dock. “Maybe they’re just giving extra service, so they look good to the trade commissioner.”
“I’d rather be ignored.” Vigard studied the docked craft as they circled. A large cruiser came into view, the blue and green emblem of Earth emblazoned on its hull, with the yellow ring to indicate a government ship. “There it is,” he said. “They sent one of their finest and a bevy of escorts, too. Putting on a show.”
A little farther around, Tracy said, “There’s another ship from Earth. How many people did he need to bring?”
“There are usually a few Earth-based ships here. The Syndicate must have decided to cluster them.” He checked the interior station diagram. “What a surprise. We’re all on the retail and entertainment level, just below the trading floor.”
“Of course,” Tracy said. “Even if the Syndicate doesn’t win over the commissioner, they’ll make plenty of money off the Humans.”
Vigard watched in silence as Tracy docked the transport. A familiar shudder passed through the craft as the station’s docking clamps engaged with the outer hatch collar. Gravity tugged at them. He released his straps, stood, then gave Tracy a hand as she pushed up from her couch.
They used the lounge’s vid screen to review the station’s interior diagram. Tracy moved through it, one level at a time, committing it to her photographic memory. After a few minutes, she said, “Okay, I’ve got it. I’m guessing you have ideas.”
“I do.” He swept a finger across the video controls in the tabletop and brought the image back to the trading level. The station’s restricted interior formed a blank circle on this diagram. He pointed at a ring around it. “They have this inner hallway here, reserved for robot cart traffic only. The idea is to reduce carts elsewhere.”
“Looks like a nice shortcut. Do people really stay out of there?”
“They did when I was here before. The carts only go one direction around it, and the biggest ones take up most of the hallway.” He pointed at a broader ring. “These reservable meeting rooms each have a back door to the cart hallway and a front door to the trading floor. Notice this catering kitchen. They send food carts out the back to the meeting rooms.”
“I see why you like them,” Tracy said. “Two doors and intersecting hallways. I’ll just need a ruse to get Maren away from the traders.”
“I doubt she’ll be on the trading floor proper. It’s a hard place to read thoughts. Too focused and intense.” Vigard pointed to the open seating between meeting rooms and the trading floor. “Shady deals are more likely to be in active thought while people are out here.”
Tracy nodded. “That’s also where it’s easiest to notice those rare people who leak no thoughts at all.”
“That, too. Are you ready to pretend you’re a thought-leaker?”
She answered by letting thought flow with her words. “There’s always the tired-feet-want-to-sit-down impression.”
He sensed it. A memory she called to mind, of course, but the station’s gravity would soon make it real. The risk swept over him like a sudden heatwave. He was leading Tracy into danger. The fear of losing her grew more excruciating with every mission. How had he ever let himself get so involved? He took a deep breath. “Let’s get dressed and get it done.”
His worries intensified as he dressed, his jacket already loaded with palm-sized dart guns, spring syringes, a nerve disruptor, and other tools of his trade. Tracy joined him in the lounge. How pale and disheartened she looked.
“Are you all right?”
She smiled, but it was a little thing. Unlike her. “It’s just make-up, Vigard. I don’t care for the droopy-eyed look, so I’ve never done it on any other station.”
“Ah. Good choice, then. Let’s go.”
Tracy surveyed the docking corridor. Its curve was slight on this broad level. Lockers and robot cart storage, much of it empty, lined the wall opposite the docks. “I like the tall cart design,” she said.
“Yeah. Same capacity but a smaller footprint. It will suit our needs better.”
Tracy read thoughts from the few people in range. Nothing suspicious. She pulled out her cart controller and glanced at its screen. Sure enough, it registered the carts she passed, all labeled as available. She slipped it back into a pocket as they reached a door.
Vigard pushed the lever down, releasing the vacuum seal with a soft puh sound. As soon as they passed through, the door slid closed.
Small wonder the station operators maintained a barrier. Open walkways gave access to countless establishments, spaced enough to give the area an uncrowded feel. An easy place to discern thoughts while leaking casual impressions. Mock sunlight shown down on live plants that divided a winding courtyard from businesses. Tracy relaxed in the calm, expansive atmosphere—until the black column of a Thief Limb Removal station poked above the plants. How jarring.
Vigard nodded down the path that led to it. “Casino entrance. Quiet compared to most of ’em.”
A few Humans strolled toward the casino, without the glitzy costumes in vogue on some stations. Tracy pointed to a different walkway. “The nearest elevator should be that way.”
Within minutes, they were on the trading level. What a difference. On one side, Tracy sensed random thoughts from the seating area. On the other, high tensions emanated from bidding sessions. Without conscious decision, she wove between the bar-height tables and stools toward the meeting rooms.
Vigard nudged her toward a vacant table. “Overwhelming, isn’t it?” He perched on a low-backed stool and murmured, “Refocus.”
Geez! She’d stopped leaking thoughts without realizing it. She couldn’t afford mistakes like that. Tracy let out the feeling of climbing onto the stool. The height was convenient for her purposes. She leaked all that she saw. More Flainshri than any other race—the men with their bushy hair and beards, the women with sleek, cropped hair. She watched one walk away, the back of her head trimmed close up from the neck and merging with hair a centimeter long. “Wow. Styles have really swung to the short end of the spectrum. They make me look shaggy.”
“There are plenty of Humans, so you still blend in,” Vigard said.
She sensed the images he leaked as he identified those of their own race. Maybe half wore facial hair, with mustaches more common than beards. Perhaps he judged how well he matched their styles.
A bidding session closed, and buyers dispersed between tables. Evonlid mingled in the shifting crowd. One passed near them, and Tracy sensed his hidden glance and need to check every Human. She and Vigard didn’t match the description he had in mind: A woman with long black hair, big eyes, and a broad mouth; a man with spikey, sand-colored hair and light eyes. Not that he really expected to identify the couple with that vague description and a rough sketch.
Vigard’s lips thinned. “Poor artist.”
Small consolation. A thought-reader would have a far more accurate image. Their lives depended on spotting Maren or Dameon first. Time to get down to searching. Tracy began methodically reading the images that leaked from the many minds around her—looking for Humans in their view. She found quite a few, but not the ones she sought. Instead, the impressions showed pairs of Humans intent on observation, sometimes pausing to study bidding sessions or make notes. Ah, government employees with the trade commissioner. Some passers-by carried impressions of a larger crowd of Humans on the far side of the level.
Vigard leaked his image of the whole floor as he scanned it. He focused on a group of Humans and Evonlid, which shifted nearer then paused again.
Under the general hum of crowd noise, Tracy murmured, “Let’s try a different spot.”
They moved away from the cluster of Humans and found another empty table. Tracy pulled out her reader and accessed a list of restaurants, which she pretended to peruse as she searched beyond it. At last. “I found her,” she whispered, keeping her expression neutral.
“Where?”
Tracy pointed at her reader screen, but she angled it so she really pointed at Maren.
Vigard left his stool and came to Tracy’s side, his head bent toward her reader while they both searched for watchers.
Maren perched on a stool in an alcove by a meeting room. Its angled entrance was to her right. A hallway branched off behind her left side. She was dressed in a charcoal business suit with a lavender shirt. Unlike in pictures from before she was abducted, her dark hair was almost as short as the Flainshri women’s. Had Dameon burned her hair as he had Garnot’s?
“Do you see a watcher near her?” Vigard asked under his breath.
“Not yet.”
“I’m going to reserve that room beside her.” Vigard tapped his computer then grunted. “It’s listed as occupied. Looks empty from here.” He chewed his lower lip. “I’m going to get us some drinks.” He sauntered toward a beverage counter nearer Maren, then took his time choosing before he meandered back. He gave Tracy a glass. “Her handler is in the meeting room beside her. It has a swing door, which keeps him out of sight. He’s not using a TCS.”
Tracy raised her brows.
“He’s got some kind of camera viewer,” Vigard whispered. “He saw two Humans strike up a conversation with a buyer. He focused on them and thought check this. That must be how he directs her.”
“Did he see you?”
“Yes, but he didn’t care. He might get suspicious if I get close again. He couldn’t see the cluster of Humans, but he worried about where they are and whether it was time to get Dameon’s slave out of sight.”
Tracy glanced at the group, which had shifted closer again. “We better move before he leaves.”
“Yeah. I’ll go around to the cart hallway, so I can get into the back door of the meeting room to take the watcher out. You’ll need to distract her at the same moment and keep her from raising an alarm.” Vigard keyed a message into his comm device as he spoke. “This says let’s meet for lunch. I’ll send it to you when I’m in position. Keep leaking thoughts so I know exactly when to strike.” He focused his gaze on another room to show her a location. “If you approach her from that side, staying close to the meeting rooms, I don’t think the handler will be able to see you. Do you have a ruse planned?”
Tracy waggled the reader. “Of course.”
He nodded. “Give me about a minute, then get in position.”
Tracy watched him leave, in the opposite direction she would take. Her stomach tightened, but she forced herself to sip the flavored water, which had somehow lost its taste.
After a long moment, she reached inside her jacket and withdrew a spring syringe loaded with the anti-anxiety drug. It fit perfectly within her loose fist. She strolled to the meeting rooms, then paused to look from location numbers on the wall to her reader, as though getting her bearings. Vigard’s message popped up. She acknowledged it then followed the wall, glancing between the reader and her surroundings as she neared Maren. By now, she could sense the watcher in the meeting room as well.
Maren stared out over the crowd, her hands resting on the flat surface that extended from the armrest to form a miniature table. She showed no surprise when Tracy stopped beside her.
“Excuse me,” Tracy said. “Could you tell me where this restaurant is?” She held the reader directly in front of Maren’s face, distracting her while she pressed the syringe against the back of Maren’s wrist.
Maren twitched. Her eyes flicked first to her wrist, then to Tracy’s face.
Tracy pocketed her reader in an instant. Maren reached for her waist with the other hand, but Tracy caught her arm.
The slave handler’s impressions spilled from the meeting room. The swish of a sliding door and a sharp pain in his back. He spun as he jumped up, locking his eyes on Vigard’s face, then sudden lassitude merged with a falling sensation.
Maren’s eyes rounded.
Tracy murmured, “All is well. Come.” She urged Maren to step down from the stool and guided her into the meeting room. She darted a glance around the trading floor before locking the door. No one gave them any heed.
Maren stared with gaping mouth as Vigard ran his med scanner over the fallen watcher.
Tracy felt Maren’s pockets and took her comm device. “I’m Tracy, and he is Vigard. We are private locators, and we’re here to rescue you.”
Maren looked back and forth between them and mumbled, “Dameon warned me about you.” She took an unsteady step. “I feel weird.”
Tracy gripped her arm and drew her to a chair. “Just sit here and relax. What did Dameon tell you?”
“That you’re slave thieves. I’m supposed to notify him immediately if I see you.” She looked around in a vague, puzzled way.
Tracy’s stomach fluttered. “Is he on this station?”
“I think so. I haven’t seen him since the delegation arrived from Earth.” Maren sighed her words with a faint slur. “Might’ve left…or hiding…he’s gonna be so mad.”
“Don’t worry, miss,” Vigard said, using his fatherly voice. “No one will see you leave this room. We’ll be on our way to Rivelt soon.”
Tracy passed her med scanner over Maren, confirming that she had no implanted chips. Only her comm device registered a tracking chip. Vigard opened the back door and pulled a cart inside.
“We will hide you and get you safely away,” Tracy said. “Would you like that?”
Maren’s face sagged. “Yeah, but there’s no way off the station. Anyone would kill me or use me, no matter where I go.”
Tracy’s chest squeezed. Poor girl. “Those are lies the slavers tell so you won’t try to leave. I believed them once, too, but Vigard helped me escape. All you need to do is climb into this cart and sit quietly. It will take you to our dock. When no one is in view, we’ll open it, and you’ll step right through our hatch into freedom. Okay?”
Maren’s chin trembled. “You don’t understand what he’ll do to me.”
Vigard dug inside his jacket. “We won’t let him near you. We have to go now.” He pressed another syringe to her shoulder. “This will keep you relaxed. We’ll take care of everything.”
Maren said nothing more, just watched them beneath drooping eyelids as they opened the cart and retracted the interior shelves. She was able to support her own weight as they helped her to sit inside and pull her knees close to her chest. Vigard circled the cart, making sure no gap revealed its precious contents.
Tracy used her controller to program the destination. The device showed the proposed path through the rear corridor. She compared it to her precise memory of the station diagram. “I can leave through the front door and meet up with the cart before it reaches the elevator.”
“Good,” Vigard said. “Go ahead of me. I don’t want us to be seen together in case anyone else has access to the camera image. Give me Maren’s comm unit. I’ll ditch it somewhere.”
Tracy handed it to him. He cracked the front door open and paused, no doubt reading thoughts just as she did. A group of Humans approached then stopped.
“Must be that trade delegation,” she whispered. “I’ll be walking away from them.”
“Go now.”
Tracy pressed the start button on the cart controller and slipped through the door.
Vigard closed the front door and followed the robot cart to the rear. It sent the opening signal, and the door slid aside. Vigard checked that the corridor was clear, and as Maren’s cart whirred away, he smiled at this mission’s bit of luck. A trash bin trundled toward him. Those things meandered all over the station. A perfect spot for Maren’s comm device with its built-in tracker. He slipped it inside as the bin passed, then returned to the front door. He sensed people on the opposite side. If he could read their thought energy through the door, they had to be right next to it.
