“What assault?”
“The assault you’ll commit when I’m through thinking up things to charge you with.”
“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t tell you about Ray! I just said I didn’t want to repeat something he told me in confidence.” Bob brushed his hair back. “He’s Ray Cowper.”
“The nut?” Loh said, straightening.
“He isn’t a nut,” Bob said. “I don’t know where he is right now.”
“I’ll find him,” Loh said, laying the ticket on the counter. “The Station thanks you for your cooperation.”
Ray Cowper, Loh thought, as he walked out into the deserted corridor. This is as good a place as any.
He called up the man’s file on the screen built into his sleeve; the problem with having information always accessible was finding a quiet moment to absorb it without distraction or someone looking over your shoulder.
Cowper was an independent scientist searching for deep space signals that might indicate intelligent life outside the solar system. Due to poor financing, he had access to a very, very narrow band of space. Records indicated that his financing was about to run out—and his space on the station was eagerly sought after by a number of Earth’s governments and businesses. It was unlikely the station would renew Cowper’s lease even if he could come up with the money.
“This looking for aliens crap really doesn’t fit the staid image the station likes to project for its science section,” Loh muttered to himself.
Cowper had lodged numerous, increasingly angry complaints about the situation. He seemed to be exactly the kind of person who did things like blowing up space stations. He was certainly intelligent enough, having degrees in electronic engineering, computers, and chemistry.
All of which suggest unpleasant possibilities, Loh thought.
I shall have to talk to the man.
Loh didn’t like possibilities. Most of the random possibilities possible on a station couldn’t possibly be good.
He allowed himself a quiet chuckle at the thought as he began the search for Mr. Cowper.
“I don’t see why I have to stay in,” Greg said, looking around the bare confines of the hostel. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And I wasn’t even awake,” Russell protested. “I missed out this afternoon. I want to see the station.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong!” Christine added her voice.
“What about that thing on Gina’s forehead?” Ms. Tosea demanded.
“What thing?” Gina reasoned. “It’s turned off, you can’t see anything.”
“What about the fact that you sure didn’t acquire it at the arcade,” Lereesa snapped. “You promised me you wouldn’t wander.”
“And I didn’t,” Greg said. “That’s my point.”
Ms. Tosca slapped her knees and rose. “You know what, Greg? You’re right. You and Russell deserve more time in the arcade if you want it. But you two,” she pointed a finger at the girls, “are going to stay here.”
There were the expected cries of dismay, growing increasingly shrill until Lereesa put a stop to it by saying: “If Security wants you again, they’ll want to speak to you in confidence. You’re staying here.”
The girls looked at one another, pouting.
“Okay,” Gina said.
“You can order dinner sent up,” Ms. Tosca told her. “Just keep it under budget, okay?”
They left the suite to resentful mutterings of “Yes, Ms. Tosca.”
Outside the suite, Lereesa tapped a code into the key panel. “That will keep them inside unless there’s a station emergency,” she explained.
Ms. Tosca raised her eyebrows. “Don’t be too sure about that. Those two are good with that sort of thing.”
“Maybe so,” Lereesa said, “but they’d have to access this panel. I’m betting their cutting-through-walls skills aren’t up to their computer abilities.”
Ms. Tosca laughed, and Lereesa chuckled herself.
Behind her, the two boys looked at each other and smiled slightly.
Ray watched the small group walk down the corridor and hop onto the people mover, dodging past a group of biotechs. He licked his lips nervously, tasting the acrid salt of nervous sweat.
The two girls aren’t with them.
Which might mean that they had stayed behind, the voice of hope struggled to convince him. But it might also mean they were at Security headquarters telling anyone who would listen about his secret.
When the group was out of sight, he snuck over to the door of their quarters and, after a swift, nervous glance around, pressed the call button.
An Oriental girl’s image appeared on the screen. “Did you forget something?” The question was followed almost immediately by screaming as his image appeared on the inner screen. “I’m calling security!” the girl said.
“NO! Wait!” Ray said desperately. “Just give me a chance to talk to you. It’s very important. Please.”
“I heard what you said!” Another girl’s face appeared beside the first’s. “You want to blow up the station!”
“What!” Ray had trouble getting his mouth to close for a moment. “I do not!” he insisted. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Your friend said so!” the one who must be Gina told him. “This will blow the station wide open. I heard him!”
“Nooo,” Ray said, his eyes bulging. “He only said that as a metaphor.”
That stopped them cold. Neither girl could believe that a mad bomber would use a word like metaphor.
“Please, wait, let me explain,” Ray begged. “Just give me a minute. But you’ve got to let me come in—I can’t talk about this in the corridor.”
The girls looked at one another. “There are two of us,” Christine said.
“I don’t like it,” Gina said. “You didn’t hear him.”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Ray said, his voice falling in despair. “Believe me, I don’t think that the station canceling my lease is reason to kill a lot of innocent people. I may be a little, umm, peculiar, but I’m not a murderer.”
“What do you think?” Christine asked Gina.
“I think you’re going to let him in whether I like it or not,” Gina snapped.
“It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.”
Gina threw her hands up. “All right, do what you want. If anything happens, it’s your fault.”
“Like, it’s ever not my fault?” Christine asked. “Was it not my fault when you jacked the game screen at the football match to show—”
“I jacked the screen? Soooo not! I helped when you—”
Christine’s thumb hit the open key with unnecessary violence; she muttered a word under her breath and shook it. Apart from that, nothing happened except that Ray’s face in the screen grew more desperate.
“It won’t work!” Christine said.
Gina came back to her side and tapped it a few times. “Unless you broke it,” she said. “But I don’t think one thumb could do that.”
“They locked us in!” Christine said in astonishment. “I can’t believe they locked us in.”
“I can take care of that,” Ray offered.
“Well, so could we, if we could get at the keypad,” Gina said. “It can’t be too hard.”
Ray gave them a haggard grin. “I’m sure you could. You probably hacked your way out of your playpens.”
“No,” Gina said. “But I got this set of cydolls when I was six, and I hacked their controller so I could make them run all through the house and hide things.”