6
Kris studied the space station that was High Turantic through the view port in the dinning room as the liner approached its dock. From the looks of the stretched cylinder, a good three-quarters of it was brand-new. SMART METAL, Nelly answered when Kris asked. Definitely a rush job.
Below, Abby was in charge of the four pursers who had appeared to repack Kris’s baggage train. Kris had almost turned them away; Abby moved quickly to put them to work. Apparently, a Princess could accept no less. Kris wondered what might be added to her luggage. Jack had muttered something about checking things thoroughly once they got to their hotel. Kris wasn’t the only paranoid around.
In the few minutes between docking and the gangway opening, the Captain appeared at Kris’s elbow and ushered her personally the short distance from first-class dining to the gangway. “I hope we meet again when I can show you more of space,” he said, bowing over her hand and kissing it.
“Has the Captain gotten rather too smooth the last few days?” Jack said as he followed Kris into the gangway’s elevator.
“Smooth, yes,” Kris agreed. “Too smooth? No. Maybe it’s a girl thing, but I could get used to that.”
“Yes, Your Princessship,” Jack drawled.
Abby, with Kris’s luggage, was waiting for them as the elevator disgorged them into the customs area. There was no line, and the agent only seemed interested in waving them through. Abby produced an Earth passport that got a frown and a stamp. Just beyond customs was a slightly familiar face in Wardhaven Navy blues sporting the two broad stripes of a Lieutenant.
“Good afternoon, I’m Lieutenant Pasley. The Ambassador regrets he cannot be here himself. I am at your disposal. I have reserved rooms for you at the station Hilton.” Kris had to admire the amount of words the woman got out in one breath.
“I was planning on going planetside immediately.”
“Yes, Princess,” Lieutenant Pasley went on without reflection. “You will find the Hilton fully meets your needs.”
“And the matter of Tommy Lien?”
“I can brief you on all we know as soon as you are comfortable in your rooms at the Hilton.”
Kris grew tired of that hotel being Penny Pasley’s answer to every question. “And if I don’t want to cool my heels where you want to stash me?”
Lieutenant Pasley drew herself up to her full height, which was a good two inches shorter than Kris. “Lieutenant, I’ve made arrangements for you and your entourage. Please follow them.”
Kris stood in place, fixing her superior officer with a hard stare, and did not budge. Penny frowned. “I told the Ambassador that wouldn’t work. How about this: If we can just get to a secure area, I can bring you up to date on quite a lot.”
That settled it for Kris. “Lead. We will follow.”
Penny had already checked them into the Hilton; they processed quickly through the foyer directly to the elevators. They must have made for an interesting parade: Penny in uniform, Kris in an expensive red outfit Abby called a “power suit,” Jack trying not to look like he was eyeing everyone for a gun, while doing so, and Abby, followed by a large procession of auto trunks in perfect formation, one behind the other.
Kris’s suite was only five floors in from Circle One, the huge outer floor that ringed the station and stretched from the bottom to the wall separating it from the yard. “Besides the elevator, this floor also has a connecting slide car to take you up or down,” Penny said. A wall screen showed a live view of the station, its long cylinder silhouetted against the setting sun with Turantic below. The suite was even more palatial than the ship’s; Kris ignored the finery as she collapsed onto a sofa. “So, what do we do now?” she asked her growing entourage.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” Jack said. No surprise, a gizmo appeared in his hand as he slowly moved about the rooms, checking for bugs.
“I tried to arrange a tour of some of Turantic’s more scenic sights,” Penny said. Kris wasn’t really surprised the Lieutenant held a slightly different gizmo and was doing her own sweep.
“I’ll have to unpack,” Abby said, and did surprise Kris by doing no such thing. She produced her own gadget, of yet another design, and began another sweep of the place. Kris kept her surprise off her face; Jack did not. He looked ready to run the maid through his own bug finder.
Five minutes later, all three were back rubbing elbows in front of Kris’s easy chair. “What do we do now?” she asked.
“I think a nice relaxing bath might be in order,” Abby said, eyeing the other two. Jack nodded slightly, Penny more vigorously. So they adjourned to a bath slightly less roomy than the
Firebolt
’s bridge. Abby ran water into a tub big enough for a small water polo match. The tub looked to be a long time filling, since the maid did not put in the stopper.
“How many bugs did you find?” Kris asked Penny.
The woman identified eight, quickly giving their locations in the five-room suite. Jack had found eight, too, but he’d missed two of Penny’s and found two more. Kris and Jack then fixed Abby with glares.
“Hey, you have no idea what some employers figured they got for their paycheck. I may be a working girl, but I’m not in that line of work. Anyway, I found two more that you missed.”
Kris raised an eyebrow to Jack. “How many species of bugs are we dealing with?” That would give Kris an idea of how many players had dealt themselves in to whatever game was afoot. Jack met her question with a shrug and headed back to the rooms, Penny and Abby right behind. They returned two minutes later; the women seemed content to let Jack talk for them. “There are five different models of bugs out there. One is standard Wardhaven issue. Strange Lieutenant Pasley missed it,” that got a blush from the subject. “The ones Abby turned up are not even close to a design in my book. Strange you found them.”
“I think they’re a familiar Earth subspecies,” Abby said dismissively. “Probably so old, they took it out of your book.”
Jack said nothing, but Kris could see the wheels spinning behind Jack’s eyes.
Who is Maid Abby?
“So, do we squash the bugs, or leave a few active?” Kris posed to the team.
“I say squash ’em all,” Jack said, eyeing Penny with a grin.
“That’ll mean I’ll be forever filling out my daily reports.” The woman sighed.
“Who says you’ll have any time to fill out any reports?” Kris said with a grin she knew was growing more wicked by the second. “The Ambassador put you at
my
disposal. I intend to keep you at
my
beck and call twenty-four/seven. You can fill out your reports when this is done. With luck, by then, you’ll have forgotten most of it, and no one will give a rip anyway.”
Penny did not succeed in suppressing a groan. “They warned me that you were most insensitive to what higher-ups required of you . . . and anyone around you.”
“Hey, you were on a vacation with Tommy. Think of this as just an extension of it.”
“And if you believe that,” Jack growled, “I’ve got a small planet to sell you.”
“What is the situation with Tommy?” Kris asked Penny.
“Don’t you think we ought to settle what to do with our listening friends?” Abby asked.
Right. They did have unfinished business before they could get down to business. “What’s your suggestion, Abby?” Kris tried to make her smile a confident one as she posed a major test for her maid/whatever.
“I’d leave two live, but choose two different types. That way, at least two sets of players would still be in the game. The others would be playing catch-up.”
Kris tossed the question to Jack with an upraised eyebrow.
“Not bad field craft. I’ll go squash them. Mind if I leave the two live ones in the living room?”
“Please!” Kris agreed.
“Why not leave one of the bugs in Jack’s room?” Abby said. “That way they could listen to him snoring all night.”
“I don’t snore,” Jack grumbled, but he was already on his way out. Kris drummed her hands on the side of the bath, glanced at the other two women seated beside her, and waited. When Jack got back, he put a new gizmo on the sink. Abby pulled a similar one from her pocket and placed it on the back of the commode.
“Should I take that to mean we’ve got an active scrambler system going?” Both nodded. “Then let’s get down to why we’re here. What do you know of Tommy Lien?” she asked Penny.
“What do you know about Turantic?” was the Lieutenant’s comeback.
Kris knew more about Turantic than she had a week ago, but little beyond the bare personnel file on Penny Pasley; time to test her. “What do you think I should know?”
“Turantic suddenly is very unfriendly territory for Wardhaven.” Penny smiled with too much teeth. “Before I got yanked home, I was stationed here in the naval procurement section of the Business Exchange Group. Turantic didn’t see a need for much Navy, but they wanted more than Earth did. In return for us buying parts and supplies from Turantic, they’d pay for a Wardhaven ship every two or three years. When their youngsters joined the Navy, they were assigned to the Wardhaven Guard. It worked well. Our ships regularly visited Turantic colonies. They saved on the overhead of a fleet.”
“When did all that change?” Kris asked.
“It started about three years back, but its gotten really bad in the last six months.”
“About the time devolution became the political password all over the Rim,” Jack said.
“If it’s the future”—Abby shrugged—“any smart person gets on the bandwagon. It’s either that or get run over by it.”
“Spoken like a true survivor,” Jack growled, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, towering over them.
“I’m alive. Not all my former employers are so lucky,” Abby said, primly rearranging her skirt where she sat on the edge of the bathtub.
“What’s the present situation?” Kris said, ending the banter that was becoming normal for her agent and maid.
“Officially, nothing’s changed. The present government is keeping to the same policies.”
“But,” Kris added.
“Several factions seem to be suddenly finding themselves in agreement,” Penny said slowly. “You’re one of those Longknifes.”
“That’s what I’m told . . . regularly and reoccurringly. Let me guess. Big money seems to be the mover for this new faction.”
The Lieutenant nodded. “Money behind the shipping firms, banking, heavy and medium industry, all the stuff that would make money if a load of new colonies suddenly got on Abby’s devolution bandwagon . . . and started running over anyone who got in their way. They own media as well. News has been kind of strong for expansion. Latest hit vids are about the early pioneers and the joy of taming a virgin land. Fun and chance to make it big.”
“So the people have been lapping it up.”
“The youngsters, the marginalized, the people who don’t quite fit in . . . and usually don’t vote.”
“When’s the next election?” Jack asked.
“They haven’t had an election in nearly five years. The ruling party will have to call one in the next two months.”
Kris whistled. “That soon.”
“Lets you know why we Wardhaven types are walking on eggs.”
Kris shook her head; she was getting that old, familiar feeling back. The one she got when she was halfway across a minefield and the second half looked twice as long. “You still haven’t told me what you know about Tommy.”
“You want the full-length version, or the summary?”
“Let’s start with the summary.”
“Nothing. Don’t know a damn thing I didn’t know when I was ordered back here pronto to chase after Tom.”
“There’s a longer version?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. In that one I tell you all we did to come up blank,” the Navy Lieutenant said, looking up at the agent.
“You know he attempted a phone call from this station,” Kris said. “You have to have something around that. If nothing else, he must have shown up on security cameras.”
“One would think so,” Penny agreed blandly.
“But,” Kris was tired of having to pull explanations out of this woman. Maybe a crowbar around the tonsils would help.
“You may have noticed all the heavy construction on the station. It has doubled and redoubled in the last nine months. Seems the day Tommy went through, the entire security system was down for expansion.”
“That is not believable,” Kris growled.
“I didn’t buy it either.” Penny sighed. “Billions worth of business goes through this station every day. They’d lose their shirt if every camera was down for a day . . . but they took them down. I talked to half the security screeners. Every one is either a pathological liar or they really were out on the floor doing eyeball security that day. They swear the central security station was off-line and filled with tech types for twenty-four hours straight.”
Jack stepped away from the tub and paced for a moment. Before Kris could ask him what had gotten him so riled, he whirled on Penny. “You’re telling me we’re dealing with someone who could close down security on a station this size? Kris, you’ve got to get on the next ship out of here.”
Abby shook her head and answered instead. “It might not be that bad. He or she need only know the day security will be down enough ahead of time to plan Tommy’s transit accordingly.”
“I don’t think Kris should be around either option,” Jack snapped, turning to Kris. He looked ready to hog-tie her and stuff her into one of her auto trunks for shipment home.
Kris casually got up, moved to the other side of the tub, ready to run if necessary, and went on. “What else can you tell me about the search for Tommy?”
“I have some connections with dirtside police. My old man was a cop, and I speak their language. Some local cops have been moonlighting for us the last couple of days, showing pictures to taxi drivers, folks who hang around the elevator. No luck.
“I thought the housing shortage around here might help. Occupancy is above ninety-five percent. We ran down every hotel room that changed hands in the last week. Nothing. Then we tried every apartment rental. Again nothing.”