"Sure. I know just the place, too. I can bring her food and water when I'm off-duty… but she'll have to keep quiet and not fuss."
"Winnie doesn't fuss. She'll behave." I thought of something. "Food's going to be a problem, though. She needs food from her planet, special food, like all aliens. Like us, too." I sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. "No help for it, I guess. Unless…" Well, there was a slight possibility. "Lorelei, is there any crewman who might be from Hothouse? He might know of substitute foods, things that are all right for Winnie to eat. Biochemistry is funny that way. Is everyone in the crew a native Outworlder?"
"No, there're plenty who lucked through, but I never heard anyone say they were from Hothouse."
"Hm. How about Demeter? That's the fancy name for the place. No? Anyone ever mention they hailed from Mach City? It's the biggest city."
"No, not that I…" In the bands of light coming through the louvered door I saw her massage her forehead with her palm. "Mach City. Wait a minute. Where've I seen that before?"
"You've seen it?"
"Yeah, somewhere, written on something. Damn it, I can't remember where the punk it was." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, yeah! It was marked on a crate we brought up from belowdecks."
"Cargo?"
"Yeah. We put it in a topside hold. Special class stuff. The crate wasn't marked, but some of the boards came off on one of them in the freight elevator. There were big bales of stuff inside, leaves and stuff, wrapped with plastic bands, and on the bands there was a name. Some company… don't remember what it was, something about chemicals, but it said Mach City. It was in System, Polla dey Mach. I remember 'cause I asked where Match City was, and Lany ― he works with me ― he says, 'You dummy, it's Mock City.'" He's a punkin' moron… but he's cute. Anyway, that's how I remember. We brought up a lot of those crates."
Well. Well, well, well. "Lorelei, is there any way we can get at those crates?"
"Sure. The holds are locked, but that's no problem for me. Why?"
"Possibility that Winnie might be able to eat some of that stuff. It's also a good bet that…" A good bet? Sucker bet. I knew what the bales contained. "Lorelei, look―"
"Call me Lori."
"Lori. I might not be able to get down here again soon. Could you take Winnie into the hold tonight and open one of those crates? Let Winnie hunt around in there for a while. She may find something to eat. She'll know what she can or can't consume."
"Uh-huh. I can do that."
"Good. Now, can you get her into hiding right away?"
"Yeah, but I'll have to be careful."
"Do you want to wait until tonight? Keep her in your cabin until then?"
"Not really. I have bunkmates, you know."
"Can you trust them?"
"Two I can, but the other one's a blabbermouth."
"Then you'd better take her now. And another thing," I said, wondering if this decision was wise, "don't tell me where you're keeping her."
She was surprised. "Not tell you?"
"I think it best, but it could put you in some danger. Are you still willing?"
"I can take care of myself," she said evenly.
"I think you can. And I really don't think these people will want to mess with a crewmember. It'd make too much trouble for them." I felt for Winnie in the dark. She found my hand and grasped it, and I squatted down and said, "Winnie, I want you to go with Lori here. You go with her, okay? She'll put you in a nice place where you can sleep. You'll be alone, but you won't be afraid. Jake will come get you later." Her grip tightened. "No, I won't forget you, Winnie. But you must be very quiet and be a good girl. Lori will come to visit you and take you to get food. But you mustn't be afraid. Understand? Nothing will happen to you. No one will hurt you. Okay?"
"Kay!"
"You'll be a good girl?"
"G'gowull!"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, good girl." I cracked the hatch and looked out, then closed it. "Almost forgot. We need a way to communicate. I don't trust the room phones. Can you get a written message to me?"
"I think so."
"Good. After you hide her, send this message to stateroom 409-B. Got that? 409-B. Send this: 'Your suit will be ready tomorrow morning.'"
She repeated it.
"Right. That's tonight's message. For emergencies, send… um, let's see. Send, 'The galley regrets it can't provide the special wine you ordered.'"
She repeated that and said, "Got it."
"Now, can I leave messages at your cabin?"
"Yeah, just slip it under the door. I'll be there when I'm off-duty. I get so worn out, most of the time I'm sacking anyway."
"Okay. Here." I took her hand and pressed a wad of bills into it.,
"No, you don't have to."
"Take it, and no back talk. You're taking a risk and you should be paid. Never be an altruist. It'll kill you in the end."
"What's an altruist?"
"It's what everyone wants the universe to think they are, but the universe knows better. Never mind." I looked out again. "Right. Get going, and don't let anyone see you with Winnie if you can help it."
"Right. C'mon, Winnie."
I watched them tiptoe down the dark passageway, then turn a comer.
17
And who should I see on my way back up? None other than the Weird Bastard stepping out of his cabin, catching sight of yours truly and slithering back into his hole like a mudsnake. I sprang forward and shouldered the hatch, wedging my boot between it and the frame.
"A word with you, sir."
"Get out of here!"
"We really have to talk."
He threw his weight against me hard and nearly took my foot off, but I shoved back.
After a struggle, he stopped pushing and leaned against the hatch. "I'll call security!" he said.
"You can reach the phone from here?"
He thought it over. No, guess not. "What do you want?"
"As I said, a few words with you."
"Say 'em."
"Actually, I wanted to take you to dinner. Have some friends I want you to meet. They live in the ocean, you see, and they have big, nasty teeth."
Suddenly his weight was off the hatch. I threw it open and dashed into the room where he was already rifling through a satchel on the bed. I kidney-punched him and maneuvered him into a full nelson, made sure he hadn't gotten to the gun, then threw him against the bulkhead. He hit it with a thud and crumpled. I went through the satchel until I found it. A good little piece, a Smith & Wesson 10kw with a Surje powerpack grip, compact, lightweight, and deadly.
He was on the floor with his back against the bulkhead, groaning but conscious, looking at me worriedly. I went to the hatch, closed and locked it, then walked toward him, twirling the pistol.
"Maybe you'd like to explain that little episode on the beach," I said, "while you still have a working mouth."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You'll have to do better than that."
He ran a hand through his unruly salt-and-pepper hair, then spent a good deal of time scraping himself off the floor. I stood well back, watching for the sudden move. He was a big man, but if I was any judge he didn't have any fight in him, just a streak of guile that he was trying to hide now with a merte-eating grin. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember now. I did see you on the island. Sure." He shrugged and threw his arms wide. "What's the problem? Must be some kind of misunderstanding here." '
"I asked you if the water was safe, and you said yes. It wasn't."
Innocence bloomed on him like mold. "I didn't know! I see people swimming in there all the time!"
"How long do they usually last?"
"Huh?"
He was lying, of course, but right then it occurred to me that I didn't need another enemy on board. He could have other uses. "You didn't know about the danger?"