But before I fell asleep, I did remember to slip my Beretta out of its holster and tuck it under my pillow.
I'd told Bayta I'd see her in ten hours. In fact, I was awake in just under eight. Unable to sleep any more, I got up, showered, and headed out to face the universe.
My first job was to check all the course and systems settings I'd locked in before heading to bed. Everything was just as I'd left it, with no indication that anyone had even tried to fiddle with the controls. I got myself some breakfast, listening for signs of life from the rest of the ship as I ate. Apparently, the two women were still asleep. I finished eating, had a second cup of coffee, and did some hard thinking.
And when I was finished with both the coffee and the thinking, I put the cup away and headed aft.
I found the boxes in the stateroom behind Rebekah's compartment, just as Bayta had said, stacked neatly against the forward wall. If Rebekah couldn't have them in the same room with her, arranging them as close to her as possible was apparently her second choice. The boxes were still locked, but I wasn't expecting that to be a serious problem. Getting out my multi-tool, I knelt down in front of one of them and got to work.
I was nearly there when through my knees I felt the subtle vibration of the door sliding open behind me. "Morning, Rebekah," I said, not turning around. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, Mr. Compton, thank you," she said. "May I ask what you're doing?"
"Just curious," I told her. "I wanted to see what this new improved Modhran coral looked like."
"I see," she said calmly. "Would you like me to get you the key?"
"That's okay—I've got it," I assured her. With a final twist of my wrist, and accompanied by a screech of tortured metal, the lock popped open. Setting the multitool aside, I lifted the lid.
It was Modhran coral, all right, soaking in about a two-thirds depth of gently sloshing water. To me, it looked the same as all the rest of the Modhran coral I'd encountered over the years.
"Were you expecting it to look different?" Rebekah asked.
"I don't know," I said, finally swiveling around to face her. She had on a knee-length nightshirt, and her eyes still looked half asleep. The coral had probably woken her up when I started knocking on his door. "I guess I was," I amended. "Stupid of me, I suppose."
"Not stupid," she said. "When the heart changes, we somehow expect the face to change, too."
"Very insightful," I said. "Especially for a ten-year-old from a backwater world."
That earned me a wry smile. "You don't think we have any culture on New Tigris?" she asked innocently.
"I'm sure you're just dripping with the stuff," I assured her. "And you're right. We do expect to see outward signs of inward changes."
"With people, I think that's actually required." She gestured. "But you have to remember, this is just a lump of coral."
"So it is," I agreed, looking over my shoulder at it. Time for a little experiment. Half turning back toward the box, I reached a hand toward it.
"Don't touch it," Rebekah said sharply.
I paused with my hand still hovering over the box. "Why not?" I asked. "I thought this was a kinder breed of Modhran coral."
"No, this is a breed of Modhran coral under Melding control," she corrected me tartly. "I told you I don't know what would happen if it left that control. I really don't know what would happen if you took a polyp colony out of it on your own."
"You're probably right," I conceded, withdrawing my hand and swiveling again to face her. Not that I'd actually intended to touch the damn stuff in the first place, of course. "I get the feeling it's kind of like a trained attack dog that only responds to its handler's voice."
"Maybe," she said. "I don't know anything about attack dogs."
"You're not missing much," I said. "So where exactly is it you and your friends are planning to go?"
"I already told you," she said. "Sibbrava."
"A small, underpopulated planet where visitors are noted and endlessly discussed by the locals?" I shook my head. "I don't think so. You wouldn't get to the sunward side of the transfer station before the whole system would be buzzing with news and rumors about you."
"Nevertheless, that is where we're going," Rebekah said.
"Even if it ends up being suicide?" I asked bluntly.
Her throat tightened. "I trust my leaders, Mr. Compton," she said quietly. "I don't believe they would take us on a path that they thought would lead to our destruction."
"Trust is fine," I said. "But it should never replace thinking for yourself. Even the best leaders have blind spots, and it's up to their followers to compensate."
"I suppose," she said, staring at me with an uncomfortable intensity. "Does that apply to you, too?"
"You mean do I question authority?" I asked.
"No, do you need someone to compensate for your weaknesses?"
"I have Bayta for that, thanks," I said. "But I appreciate the offer."
For a moment we just gazed at each other. Then, reaching behind me again, I closed the lid over the coral. "You still look pretty tired," I told her as I stood up. "You probably should go back to bed after you get some breakfast."
"Actually, I may just skip breakfast and wait for lunch," she said, yawning widely. "How much farther to the Tube?"
"About four and a half days," I said. "After you and Bayta have caught up on your sleep we'll sit down and discuss how we're going to get your coral through Customs at the transfer station." I lifted an eyebrow. "Of course, given the way you can charm the socks off people, we may not really need a plan."
"It never hurts to have several options available."
"Words to live by," I said ruefully. "Go on, scoot."
"Okay. Good night." She smiled. "Again."
She turned and left the room. I looked down at the boxes, wondering whether or not it would be worth checking out any of the others. But I couldn't think of a good reason to do so, and my eyelids were starting to remind me that I hadn't exactly caught up on my sleep, either.
And it was still a long way to the transfer station and the Tube. " 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' " I quoted under my breath, and headed back to bed.
FIFTEEN :
The next four and a half days passed slowly. The first twenty-four hours saw us caught up on our sleep and caloric intake, and later in the afternoon Bayta and I spent some time working out contingency plans for getting Rebekah's coral past the transfer station's Customs counter.
For me, at least, that felt more like a training exercise than a real-world problem. Rebekah's innocent smile, along with her new improved Melding thought viruses, would almost certainly breeze us straight through Customs without a ripple.
Certainly there wouldn't be any word from New Tigris itself to put anyone on their guard. I'd made a point of flying over what was left of the communications laser on our way off the planet, and McMicking had definitely done a good job of slagging the thing. It would be weeks before it would be up and running again.
Nor would we face the raised eyebrows that would naturally occur when two torchyachts came through such a backwater station in rapid succession. McMicking was almost certainly running himself a more leisurely course that would allow us to get to and through the transfer station first, exactly to avoid that sort of problem. It was the kind of courtesy I would expect from the man.
Of course, that meant he would be the one facing those raised eyebrows when he came through Customs a day or two behind us. How he planned to deal with them and get his precious cargo through I didn't know.
But that was his problem, not ours. Our problems would start once we got to the Quadrail itself.
Bayta and I talked about that, too. But once again, there was little to actually discuss. It would take around eleven days to get from New Tigris to Sibbrava, during which time the Modhri would either catch on to what we were doing or else would miss us completely. If we managed to stay under the radar, we would get to Sibbrava without trouble and send Rebekah on her merry way.