“None show up, and I’m sure I have the computers back online and all the bypasses and plants removed. They couldn’t do an in-depth job on them without jeopardizing the ship itself. Still, there are at least two races breathing pretty much the same muck—those salts are a dead giveaway, since Ghomas need to ingest them when free of the host and forced to breathe the water. The fact that it’s a near optimal Ghoma mix says to me that either they expect Ghomas to show up or, equally likely, those people in that atmosphere are used to the Ghoma mix. I think we can safely say that they probably either had a hand in this or directed it. Not a one boarded at Asswam Junction, but they boarded at three different stops before it.”
She looked around at the vast bridge, which seemed so cold and complex. “So what will you do now?”
Kincaid sighed. “Well, they have to know we’re searching the cargo and that we have full control of the ship again. That means we may well discover what’s hidden here, perhaps both sides of this transaction, and we certainly will prevent any stops where they are expecting one. I’ve locked in a very complex security plan, and it’s been extended to all of the main computers in the modules. If they kill me, they can’t get around it and may well be trapped for murder. If they don’t kill me, the same is possible. That means they will attempt to get at whatever they are after and do some kind of sabotage that will allow them to get away. They know there is nothing they can do, no matter how gut-wrenching, that would cause me to bend. You can’t go to Hell twice.”
“They could drug or torture you for the codes,” she suggested.
“I’ve thought of that. I think they are well-briefed on me. If not, then they might accidentally kill me in the attempt, but they won’t succeed. I’ve been sort of programmed myself, you see, and only I know the signals that turn it off. Torture will equal my death, and that will just result in the same thing. No, I think they will be very careful before they move. Very careful. They won’t allow anything rash. I’m counting on that, since the more time I have with the computer and the probes, the more chance I can find out what this is all about.”
She didn’t like this, but what choice was there? “What do you want me to do?”
“Be yourself, and be my eyes and ears. I’m going to be pretty much of a recluse. Also, continue to wear the crew outfits. I realize they’re revealing, certainly too revealing for someone in your profession, but because of that it will be difficult for them to improvise some device or the most common parasitic remotes without it being obvious, and I shall be able to track you easily, even visually. Be my eyes and ears with the passengers. I want to know what they are planning, and who is planning what. Use concierge services to ensure that your cabin is not bugged, that nothing is drugged, that all is normal. Think of yourself as in Eden surrounded by creatures, many of whom are serpents. Be paranoid, but be alert. And be quite free telling them what I am doing and what I intend and what their own problem is if they don’t deal with me somehow.”
“Huh?”
“If they know the usual routes are futile, they probably won’t try them. I need time. I think I have some, anyway. Remember, we are still about twelve days away from civilization, and eight from where they’d planned us to run dry and emerge into normal space.”
That was the least pleasant thought of all.
Null-Space, Six Days Out
Tann Nakitt was smoking his calabash in the lounge. it wasn’t something that was allowed in that area, but the little weasel-like Geldorian had been doing it regularly and nobody had registered an objection. There was a certain built-in threat the creature radiated, particularly when he thought he wasn’t going to like what you were going to say. Those beady eyes would light up as if on fire, and the multiple rows of sharp teeth behind the suddenly revealed fangs made one give pause before pressing a point.
Angel hated the smell the pipe gave off, and how it seemed to permeate everything around, but she had been trained by her sisterhood to tune out that which was personally offensive. You never knew who you might have to live and work around, or where.
She did not, however, feel particularly threatened by the Geldorian. Much of that spectacular facial stuff was for show, to avoid fights, since Geldorians were, after all, rather soft and vulnerable. Also, she’d managed to use the ship’s references to determine exactly how such a creature attacked if provoked, and was pretty sure she could handle him. The real threat was in the venom; if it got into the bloodstream it would knock most warm-blooded oxygen breathers cold; Terrans and a few other races had a worse reaction—they’d regain consciousness and agreeably do whatever a Geldorian asked them to do. The Geldorian venom had a knack for adapting to whatever form it was inside of, at least until the host rejected it. So she knew to hold one by the neck and not let it bite.
But she didn’t know if she should handle him; after all this time, most of the passengers were easy to categorize, but not this one. He didn’t seem anxious to socialize with anybody, and he did not volunteer information.
She decided he couldn’t be placed on the shelf any longer. Time was running out, and moves would be made by one side or the other.
Nakitt saw her coming right to him, and in his usual knee-jerk, pissed-off reaction, his eyes lit up and his teeth came out while he held his pipe in his hand. Almost immediately, though, he turned the display off, sensing that this strange, hairless Terran female felt no fear of him at all. That bothered Tann Nakitt; he was used to making everybody else nervous. It was more than a defensive posture—it was his hobby.
“We have to talk,” Angel said firmly, standing and facing him as he lounged on an ottoman.
Tann Nakitt took a drag and blew thick yellow smoke up and toward her face. “No we don’t,” he responded.
She looked around. There was nobody in the immediate area, certainly nobody paying attention to them or within conspicuous earshot. “You are wrong. I believe that if we do not have a talk, then there is almost no way you can survive the next full day.”
The needle-nosed snout came up, but he didn’t betray any emotion. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yes.”
He took another drag on the pipe, sensing that the smoke irritated her. “I thought you were some kind of priestess or something. I didn’t think your type fought battles. They just exhorted the gods and spirits to stir up other folks to go off and fight holy wars.”
The insult had the opposite effect of what he’d intended. She seemed more amused than upset by it.
“It is true that I could not harm a living thing by direct action,” she agreed, “but if there is a threat to life or the safety of others or my well-being, I am capable of doing whatever is necessary. I say what I say because you fit into one of three categories. You may be ignorant of what will happen, in which case the other side will have you marked for death. You may be on their side, in which case you will trigger my defenses. Or you might be a potential ally, in which case the situation is the same as the first—you are marked for death by the others.”
“And your object in saying this to me?”
“I want to know which category you are in. Since you neither seem surprised or alarmed by my description, I assume that you at least know what is building.”
“I have an idea of it, but I don’t think I’m in any of those categories. I am traveling on my own business, and I am known to some on what you call ‘the other side.’ I’m not involved in their business, but I suspect I can sidestep things and get where I want to go one way or another.”