But Kim was silent, looking at him in fear.
“You can’t enter chrysalis if you have implants, kid! Your body won’t be able to handle it!”
This was a complete disaster. If for some reason the girl had been slipped an artificial organ, she was doomed.
“Swear on your life…”
“What?”
“Swear that you’ll keep…”
Her hand crawled down her stomach, stopping somewhere above the right kidney. For a second, her fingers weakly pressed and stretched the skin. Then a shiver ran down her body, and the skin beneath her fingers came open, revealing a small pocket.
It was not an artificial organ, after all. Not even a built-in gun. Just a hiding place, a practically undetectable cavity.
“Here…”
Alex lowered Kim onto the bed and carefully took a heavy crystal out of her hand.
A truncated cone with a one-point-nine-five-inch base. Clear as a diamond. And as expensive as a diamond of its size.
Alex lifted the crystal up, looked through it at the light. The ceiling lamp’s pink glow turned white. He squeezed the crystal and felt a tough resilience.
Exactly. A gel-crystal.
“Where did you get this?” was all that he managed to say.
“Keep it safe…” Kim’s fingers squeezed his wrist with such force that Alex gave a slight gasp from the pain. “Swear to keep it safe!”
“I swear.”
How absurd. A homeless, starving child was carrying around a huge fortune. Crystals of this size were used on star cruisers, in planetary computer centers, in virtual reality bases, and in navigational centers of the largest spaceports. There were probably not more than five or six such crystals on the whole planet of Quicksilver Pit.
“You promise me?”
“I promise.”
Alex leaned over and touched his lips to her forehead.
“Sleep. I know how to care for gel-crystals. Don’t worry.”
She believed him. She simply had no other choice. After a few seconds, the girl’s eyes closed, but it was not sleep. Obeying the program, her consciousness faded.
Alex threw the blanket over her.
A short respite, an hour, an hour and a half at the most. Now her body would begin to prepare for the metamorphosis.
Still, she probably wouldn’t make it.
Clutching the crystal—though it was almost impossible to break, he did not wish to take any chances—Alex walked over to the table. Put the crystal into a glass, then poured in some water from a decanter. That was good for gel-crystals.
Glanced sideways at Kim. The girl’s breathing was slow and deep. Her nose had stopped bleeding… for now.
“Computer,” said Alex forcefully, inwardly ready for the terminal not to work.
To Alex’s relief, the screen flooded with a dim white light. The management of Hilton didn’t exactly have to make information services available in a unit of “minimal parameters.”
“This is the basic service mode,” announced the computer courteously. “Your connection is limited to the local city area. Only free information services will be provided.”
Alex hissed through clenched teeth. Wanted to look at the Demon, but changed his mind. Most likely, the Demon would be sitting with its back to him. Perhaps it had even left altogether, offended by its master’s stupidity.
“Information on gel-crystals,” said Alex.
“Completed. Limited mode.”
Great…
“Gel-crystals with base diameter larger than one point nine inches.”
“Completed. Limited mode.”
“Crimes connected to this group of crystals.”
“Completed. Limited mode.”
“Theft of crystals with base diameter larger than one point nine inches.”
“Completed.”
Alex smiled.
Of course, he wouldn’t be able to access any secret police archives. Well, this would have to do.
“List the last five cases.”
“Unable to comply. Gel-crystals of specified size were objects of theft three times. Shall I list data?”
“Yes. Brief descriptions only.”
“Year 2131. Base crystal of space liner Sri Lanka. Stolen during mutiny on board ship, supposedly by master-pilot Andreas Wolf, spesh. Recovered and returned to the Lunar Express corporation after the mutiny had been suppressed. Currently used on space liner Sri Lanka. Further details not available.”
Alex scowled. He already knew this case, but it hadn’t immediately come to mind. He hadn’t connected the shameful story of the spesh who led a mutiny and the theft of the crystal.
“Year 2164. Gel-crystal of amusement complex Andalusia, planet Athena. Stolen by technician Dyeri Doneskou, natural. Recovered during an attempted resale. Recycled upon loss of function resulting from improper storage conditions. Details?”
“No. Next.”
“Year 2173. Base crystal of space cruiser Tron. Stolen by an unknown person. Never recovered. Further details unavailable.”
Alex looked at Kim in considerable doubt. She was a spesh, certainly. But to believe that ten years ago, as a child, she could have stolen the gel-crystal from a military ship…
“Is the gel-crystal from the Tron still being searched for?”
“No information available.”
Made sense. The military gave no rewards for the return of stolen articles. And they seldom asked for police assistance with any internal problems. Remarkable that these details had leaked into the open infonet at all.
So then, could it have been the space cruiser Tron?
Alex squatted in front of the table. Looked at the glass, where the now-invisible crystal lay.
It was not just its intrinsic value. If this was the crystal, and if it still contained all of the data from the military fleet’s flagship… even ten years old…
“How come I always get myself into shit, and when I do, it’s always up to my ears…?” Alex asked rhetorically.
The crystal could not answer him, the girl was asleep, and the computer did not consider it an appropriate question. Alex sighed. Well, there was no proof, after all. It could very well have been a completely different crystal.
“Computer. Access the employment vacancy pages.”
“Completed.”
At least this service was available.
“Vacancies on the planet Quicksilver Pit for a master-pilot, spesh, thirty-four years of age, six years of experience, first-class qualifications, no restrictions, confirmed loyalty, misdemeanor record clean… um… no restrictions, full medical clearance as of today. Display text only.”
There were vacancies. Five of them, to be exact.
Alex moved up to the screen.
The first announcement made him smirk. Orbital and sub-orbital freight transit. A Hamster-class barge. To offer this job to a master-pilot… Someone had a real sense of humor. Thirty credits per week. No sign-up bonus. Free lodging at the Hilton.
“Delete the first entry.”
The second and third opportunities were not much better. Two freight routes—Quicksilver Pit to and from the hyperterminal, and Quicksilver Pit to and from the asteroid belt. Two barges, one Hamster-class, the other a Badger. Sixty credits per week. Lodging at the Hilton or in a company-sponsored apartment.
“Delete the second and third entries.”
Were master-pilots a dime a dozen in this place? Or… maybe there really was no demand for speshes of his skill level.
The fourth vacancy caught his attention. The space liner Goethe. Second master-pilot. The independent company Solar. One hundred credits. Full benefits. A sign-up bonus equal to one month’s salary. All expenses paid. There were, however, some special conditions… a non-negotiable five-year contract.