Shadith wrinkled her nose as she ran. Aleytys is turning positively stodgy. Going conservative on me. How dull. Dull. I'm dull. Duh duh duh dull. Bad as the Vrya who get so bored with living they dive into the nearest sun.
She loathed being dependent on Aleytys and Sward-held, didn't matter they were closer than most blood kin and willing. She wanted to support herself and her ship. Trouble was, a starship was a worse drain on the pocket than a drug habit, what with maintenance, docking fees, fuel, registration-if she wanted to go that route. Free-traders mostly didn't bother with registration-and got their ships confiscated if they stepped on the dignity of some local potenpot, same thing she faced with that creepy guard. No, she wanted her ship Registered out of Helvetia. There was a NAME with clout. There was a name that COST.
They ran on and on; it seemed to her they were going to run forever.
It was Swardheld's idea she go to University for a few years, that would give her body time to mature and bring her contacts she could use whatever she decided to do. He'd worked for several* Departments there and had connections all over the place, people who knew the mechanisms behind the facade. But she couldn't dredge up much enthusiasm for the idea. University made her nervous. She'd never been to school-not on her own. She'd got her education first from her family, then as apprentice to a series of extraordinary masters. As she loped through the darkness, she had very mixed feelings about University, even a touch of gratitude to Bossman Prissface trotting along at the tail of this parade; he was an excuse to put off something she'd rather not have to deal with.
None of which meant she wouldn't jump at the first good chance to escape.
The catwalk widened; the mercs ahead slowed to an easy amble.
She followed them round a sharp corner and stopped.
She was at the back end of a stubby offshoot with a steel door in the far wall. Bossman brushed past her and crouched over the latch as he had over the lock on the office door. In seconds he had it open with no sign he'd triggered any alarms. Hmp. Clever, aren't you, little man.
Through the opening she saw a familiar cicatrice on the far wall of the corridor outside, the heavy round iris of a chute portal. Shuttle berth. Hmm. I was afraid this was where we were going.
Alert, wary, but doing her best to hide both as her situation got shakier by the minute, she followed the bobbing bodies through the door, along a short stretch of wide corridor and through an umbilical chute into a small shuttle.
The mercs took their captives into the back section, a miniature cargo hold, ratcheted them to the floor and shut off the a-g units. Yawning and relaxed, they dropped onto padded wall benches and sat with their legs stretched out, feet propped on the bodies; if they'd shouted it, they couldn't haie made it clearer they considered the job done.
Lute waited in the lock, his eyes on Shadith. Same to you, butcherboy. If you think I'm dumb enough to jump your Bossman, you got ivory between your ears.
Bossman leaned over the console, touched a sensor and dropped a barrier field between them and the mercs, blocking sound and solid objects. He swung the pilot's seat around and lowered himself into it. "Sit down, child." There were three rows of seats on each side of the cabin section, two seats in each row. He pointed to the front row on the left. "There. The inside seat. Lute, bring me her shoulderbag, please."
He took things from the bag one by one, looked them over and dropped anything he found uninteresting to the floor beside the chair. Comb, tissues, a half-empty box of lemon drops, a printed book (Songs of Ancient Elyzie-he flipped through it, dropped it), her stylus, her antique fountain pen that she kept in a plastic wrap because it leaked (he unwrapped it, took it apart, dropped the pieces and the wrapping; she fumed silently, it was her favorite poem-pen), facepaint (when she felt festive, she painted feathers on the hawk outline acid-etched on her cheek), mirror, hair clips, rubberbands, bits of this and that. He flipped through her notebook, read a few pages of her scribbles (notes and observations, lines of poems jotted down as they occurred to her). He set the notebook aside and unsnapped her coinpurse; he inspected each of the coins inside as if he suspected they were small bombs. When he was finished with that, he set the purse on the notebook and opened out another section of the bag. He found the boarding pass for the Paepyol's shuttle, read front and back, dropped it on the floor. "I think it would be best to ignore this booking, we would draw attention by canceling it and gain nothing; if the child does not show up, Ji will mark it and forget it. She could have changed her mind, it happens all the time."
"Yes, sir. Your Luck will smooth it over."
Bossman dipped again, brought up the metal check from the Customs locker. "Now this is different, I think." He touched the timer on, read the display. "Yes. Something less than an hour left before the alarm goes and triggers a Station scan along with a check on MEMORY. That we do not want. Take. this, Lute. Fetch the girl's luggage here." He blanked the display, tossed the check to his second. "Please wait until I have finished with the bag before you leave."
He brought out a letterpak, unsealed it and ran the message. (Shadith was furious at this intrusion, but found Swardheld's voice comforting right then):
//Aslan aid Adlaar/University/Institute of Xenoethnology
Aslan-who gives you this is a friend of mine by name Shadith. She plays a mean harp. Introduce her to all the ancient songs you can dig up and point her to the better teachers, you'll know who once you hear her play. Me, I confess an utter Ignorance. Might as well confess, you say? Hahl All right, I build harps, I don't play the things. Favor for favor, teach. Ask and you will get. I'll be along In a year or so to see how things are going. If you're not off somewhere recording the tweedles of noseflutes or something equally stimulating, perhaps we can find a way to pass sometime. Should you be agreeable to this, leave a message with my housekeep. See you. Swar Quale/Cluale's Nest/Telfferll
Bossman dropped the spent pak on the floor. "Who is this Quale?"
"He's a friend of my guardian. A Freetrader. He hauls and fetches a lot for University."
"I see. A year or so. He does not seem overly concerned about you though he calls you friend."
"He's just being polite, doing me a favor because my guardian asked him to."
"Will this Aslan be expecting you?"
"No." She was running on instinct, there was no time to think out her lies and she couldn't have explained to anyone, even herself, why she said NO rather than YES. "Quale was leaving and the times were wrong for a comcall. The letterpak was instead."
"No message? He asked this Aslan to leave one."
"He doesn't like leaving messages about, he says his business is his business.and he wants to keep it that way.
Too many snoops around reading other people's mail."
"I trust you are not referring to me, child."
Shaddith put a stubborn look on her face and said nothing.
He didn't push it, in fact he seemed pleased with her; she'd guessed right this time, but the need to watch every word, every act was putting knots in her gut.
He felt around the smallest of the compartments and
Jo Clayton found the tiket from the shop, frowned as he read it. "Sent to Aleytys of Wolff, Hunter. How do you come to know her?"