He pulled his Garmish hat down over his head more snugly, enjoying the unaccustomed feel of the fur against his skin. He moved with the crowd that flowed from the jet-tube gates down to the customs area. Once there, he separated from the crowd and approached the exit for official personnel. He ran his ID card through the machine, touched his thumbprint to a lit-up pad and focused his gaze on the optical sensor so that his retina could be scanned. Instantly recognized and catalogued, the steel doors shunted open and he was allowed to pass by the customs area without the routine body search. Tourists and businessmen from around the system gave him speculative appraisals as he passed them by, his single bag rubbing against his legs as he walked. The other immigrants from the Gladius shuffled along dazedly, ignoring him.
He stepped out of the foot-traffic that flowed relentlessly toward the exits to put on his coat. While he stood there he watched a very large man bypass the security just as he had. This man was a giant, one of the more common forms of genetic specialization. The giant approached and stood next to him. Standing just over eight feet tall, he also wore furs and carried his luggage with him.
“Any problems, Jarmo?” Lucas asked the giant.
“No sir.”
Lucas stretched his aching shoulders. “It’s good to feel the solid pull of a planet under my feet again after three years of cryo-sleep. I know we only aged a few months on board the Gladius during the long flight out from Neu Schweitz, but I’m convinced that I still feel those years somehow, deep down in my bones.”
Jarmo’s eyes never stopped scanning the crowd. One by one, he located the security devices and appraised them expertly. “We are under surveillance, but I see no reason why we shouldn’t move to the hotel immediately.”
The Governor nodded and rode his way up the slider to the nearest waiting cab. As he climbed in, the giant appeared at the exit, smoothly folding his body into the cab immediately behind him.
“There he is,” said Militia General Ari Steinbach in a hushed voice.
Mai Lee inclined her head a fraction, the equivalent of a nod. Linked directly to the security feed from the spaceport, Mai Lee of New Manchuria stared at Lucas Droad speculatively. “I’m an excellent judge of character, General.”
“Naturally.”
“I don’t like this man. There is no softness in him, no weak button to push.”
“Well, it certainly hasn’t shown up in his classified files, or in our psychological simulations, or even in the darkest secrets of his past, which are few and far between,” said Steinbach.
“Most importantly, it doesn’t show up in his face.”
Steinbach said nothing.
“Will you be able to guide him?”
He hesitated a moment before answering. “He doesn’t appear to be a weak man. However, enough money…”
“Blur dust and amp-rods speak louder,” purred the lady of New Manchuria. “You will persuade him somehow.” She watched with a knowing smirk as Droad breezed through security, then paused at the door for his giant to catch up a bit before going outside.
“Should I, ah-alert Governor Zimmerman that his replacement has arrived?”
“I’ll do it myself. I’ll enjoy the worm’s terror.”
“The presence of the bodyguard shows that he isn’t completely ignorant of the situation here,” said Steinbach. He broke off at Mai Lee’s gasp of surprise and followed her gaze back to the security screens.
When the new Governor and his bodyguard left the spaceport, more giants made their appearance. They waltzed through security and waded through the throng near the luggage claim section. Each of them wore a black jacket with silver trim and carried long cases like those used by rayball players. Mai Lee judged that they were all close to, or over, eight feet in height. They touched the delivery cubicles and grabbed up huge packs as they were dispensed.
“One, two, three, four, five… He’s not kidding,” muttered Steinbach.
“Count silently,” hissed Mai Lee. “Pay the Captain half the agreed amount, since he withheld half of the information.”
“He will not be pleased,” Steinbach pointed out.
“He is either double-dealing us or incompetent. I have no time for him in either case.”
“Of course.”
Mai Lee noted one of the other passengers had touched a giant on the sleeve. She pressed the audio focus button immediately, and the computer-controlled parabolic microphones homed in and picked up the man’s words.
“Go Rangers!” the passenger said, and laughed.
The Giant stared at him for a moment, frowning in suspicion, then gave a wintry smile.
“Obviously, the man thinks he’s one of the new rayball players,” said Steinbach, chuckling. “They’re often giants. I doubt that they intended such a reaction.”
Mai Lee ignored him. She squinted a bit, examining the giants closely.
“They are wearing black and silver, the Rangers’ colors. Could they be players?” asked Steinbach.
“Of course not,” snapped Mai Lee. “If you looked carefully, you can see that their cases aren’t quite long enough to hold rayball sticks. Besides which, there are only flares for catch-baskets at one end, not at both ends. Viewed objectively, they looked suspiciously like weapons cases.”
Then the giant that she had focused in on turned an eye to the optical probe. His eyes challenged hers. Staring into the giant’s somber face Mai Lee blinked and for a split second felt a quaver of… not fear exactly, but what did the fool Germans call it? Angst. This emotion was followed immediately by rage.
“Damned Captain! Pay him nothing!” she screeched.
“He probably sold them as much information as we got out of him,” said Steinbach. “More perhaps, since it would be easier to get, I wouldn’t be surprised if the new governor was carrying a load of files in that bag of his on both of us.”
“Cease your prattle!” Mai Lee was becoming increasingly agitated.
Steinbach glowered and pursed his lips. “I take it you want me to do something about this rather large team of problems.”
“Ignore them for now. Kill the new Governor. Give him just enough time to let his guard drop a bit, but not enough for his flashy little escort to get organized.”
“Direct,” said Steinbach with an amused nod. “Quite a tall order milady. Might take a good deal of credit.”
“Do it.”
With a cordial nod, but not the bow that she demanded from her staff, the General turned on his heel and left.
She snapped off six months worth of nail-growth from her fingertip as she jabbed the cut-off button. The scene of the spaceport faded. She walked to the north side of the room, where a wall of one-way glass looked out over the city and into the forest of red hork trees beyond. The fruit on the tallest of the giant trees glittered in the sunlight.
She thoughtfully tapped her chin with the remaining inch of her broken nail, then called the Governor.
Governor Rodney Zimmerman was sitting naked in his bath, sipping from a glass of green hork-fruit wine when Mai Lee’s call came through. He was quite irritated. It was time for his afternoon sex, which he liked to have while relaxing in his ten-thousand gallon tub, to be followed immediately by his afternoon nap. To his mind, there was no room in this scheme for a rude call from the dried up old prune that had helped appoint him. Accordingly, he let the phone chime six times, flashing Mai Lee’s ID and stern image on the screen each time, lest he forget who it was that was calling, before he gulped his wine and opened the connection.
“Working hard as usual I see, Governor,” she said, making no attempt at pleasantries. She stared rudely at his exposed fatty pink abdomen and stick-figure arms.