As if Rahel or anyone else she knew could quote the going rate for black-market genotypes. “One-third going price,” Rahel countered. “And that’s generous for illegal merchandise.”
Nadder shook her head, the slow, knowing gesture of someone much older and wiser in the ways of the evil world. “Half-price.” The arc light of more tlict dismantling illuminated the bay behind Nadder. “And I won’t tell the authorities you arranged for a slave trade using the mazhet as your agents.”
My problem, Rahel thought as she glowered at her own reflection in Nadder’s anodized mask, is that I’m just not slimy enough to make good use of my options.
“Half-price or nothing.” Nadder’s voice rose to a surprising sharpness as she took two rapid steps backward and brought her hands off her hips. “Decide fast!”
Toad slammed the end of her leash hard enough to jerk Rahel half-way around toward the entrance, punctuating her barking with a cataract of wild snarls. The Larries at the docking bay doors cringed into a tangle of legs, arms, and flailing mouths. For an instant, that writhing mass looked too much like Gertrude in her too-small cathedral. Rahel jerked Toad up into her arms and ran toward Medve with the puppy howling dire threats over her shoulder. “Interface! Traffic Control!”
“Interface Traffic Control.” The Newborn’s voice echoed over the bay’s invisible intercom far too calmly to have any idea what was going on. “Online.”
“Departure code—” She shrugged Toad further up on her shoulder to squint at her palm between the puppy’s hind legs. “-3752019. Seal off our bay and queue Medve for immediate departure!”
Rahel snagged the boy’s hem when he dashed across in front of her, trying to aim him for the airlock and not the deceptive safety of the gap beneath the ship. “This way! This way!” He hitched up short, nearly tripping her, then ducked away from Nadder and her albino when they clambered into the airlock with their welding gear in tow. The main bay doors thundered closed, but Rahel didn’t dare turn to see whether any of the Larries had made it through.
“Query, Medve,” the Newborn interjected politely.
“Dammit, not now!” Rahel dropped Toad without releasing her lead and swerved to intercept the boy with her shoulder. He squealed once as she lurched upright and hauled him off the ground, then grabbed frantically for her belt to keep from pitching off her back completely. To his credit, he didn’t try to bite her.
“Traffic Control recognizes 3572019 as a mazhet departure code. Please clarify the nature of your possession.”
Nadder planted her hand on the edge of the airlock to hold it open while Rahel pitched the boy inside. “We bought it from them!”
The Newborn hesitated long enough for Rahel to jump in on top of the boy and Nadder to reel up Toad’s leash and bring the puppy aboard. “Transaction noted,” the robot finally stated flatly. “Class three transport Medve, you are cleared for immediate departure. Cast off moorings at will.”
The inside lock door sprang aside, and Nadder shoved both hands against her albino’s back even though he was already up and running for the pilot’s station. “You heard the Newbie—were clear! Get us moving!” He wasn’t even in sight by the time she added, “Go, goddam you! Go!”
The soundless thrum of maneuvering thrusters rumbled through the jumpship s deck like a dragon’s purr. Sinking back against the airlock bulkhead, Rahel let the boy skitter out from under her and all-four it into the central chamber, where he crammed himself into the comer by a maintenance locker. Not that it mattered where he went now—there wasn’t a ship in existence that would let him open an outside door without a suit on. He could hide under the furniture all the way home for all Rahel cared. It would certainly simplify keeping tabs on him.
Fending off Toad’s curiosity with her elbows, Rahel peeled the seals off three of the dinners and skated them across the deck at the boy while he watched the food travel with dubious longing. Toad scrambled in place with excitement before bolting off after the dishes. Rahel met the boy’s gaze and shrugged while Toad attacked the first plate. “So get up and fight with her. But don’t come crying to me if your sister hogs it all.”
Nadder laughed softly, wandering aimlessly back and forth through the airlock as she picked up welder pieces. “What’re you going to do with him once you get him back to Noah’s Ark?” she asked, stepping over Rahel’s legs to fish out some part from behind the small of her back. “I mean, how long can he keep the lot of you busy, being just the one little guy and all?”
One little guy with a lot of big mysteries. Rahel sighed, watching him creep out of hiding to play tug-of-war with Toad over one of the plates. “If we re lucky, he’ll be another step on the way to finding out how Terran-original genotypes found their way to this end of the Galaxy, and why. He’ll also provide the first real chance we’ve ever had to look at what kind of genetic drift occurs in a truly isolated human population. Between him and the rest of your cargo, we’re not going to be at a loss for things to do.” She pried up the comer on another of the meal packets and sniffed at the contents to see if her stomach was hungry.
“Aw, hell…” Nadder hoisted the bits of bloody equipment and dragged them toward the locker the boy had just deserted. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You’re not gonna take my cargo.” She dumped the load unceremoniously into the locker. “You’re not gonna want it.”
Rahel lowered the food tray back to her lap. “What are you talking about?”
To her surprise, Nadder only laughed again and settled contentedly back against the locker door. “I’ve got a storehold full of animals, all right,” she said, smiling. “Fifteen hundred suspension coffins, and none of ’em carrying anything more exotic than a legal-bought budgerigar tailored to look like a Carolina parakeet. They’re fakes!” The marketeer tossed her arms wide with hapless delight. “Every last one of ’em! And I sell ’em to fashionconscious idiots who don’t know how to tell the difference. I’ll even let you examine ’em, if you want to, ’cause I know what you’re gonna find.”
“But…” Rahel blinked a flustered look at where the boy crouched with Toad, picking green beans out of his ramen and dropping them down for the puppy to gobble. She couldn’t remember if she’d noticed that he used his hands to eat before. She wasn’t even sure if that was significant. “I ran his gene spins. He’s Homo sapiens, and he’s not from Earth. You can’t fake raw data like that!”
Nadder shrugged and folded her arms. “I’m sure you can’t. But I never had to. The couple times I stumbled across anything Terran-original, it was just ’cause I could pick it up cheap. It’s not like they’d sell for any more than my dress-ups do. Naw, I got your boy from the same place I got the couple other Terran genotypes that probably lured you here, proctor.” She sighed at the boy with a certain touch of ironic fondness, and smiled. “I bought him from the tlict.”
“What do you mean you lost the jumpship?”
Frustrated, exhausted, Rahel couldn’t be bothered to lift her head from her hands and see what expression accompanied Paval’s disbelieving squeak across the comlink. “I left it at the Interface. It wasn’t like I had a lot of time to consider better options.”
“Taking the jumpship wasn’t an option?”
Rahel cocked a glare at the comlink screen, and Paval returned her look with a scowl of equal annoyance. “Considering everything leading up to my decision,” she told him, “no, I didn’t think it was.”
Paval sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands across his face as if he’d been waiting all night just to hear this depressing news. “Well, what am I supposed to tell Proctor Innis?” he asked, a little peevishly. “He’s already angry about this bill from the mazhet, and everyone else is angry about whatever happened with the tlict.” He sighed the deep, soulful sigh of the young. “Proctor Tovin, you’re supposed to be setting me a good example, but all I end up getting is confused.”