Doomstar. Part 12

He said, "Uh..."

The yellow-eyed man looked at him, smiling. "Help you, mister?"

"Looking for a friend of mine," said Kettrick.

"Know when he landed?"

Kettrick shook his head. "I'm not even sure he has."

"What's the name of the ship?"

As in a dream, Kettrick heard himself saying, "Starbird"

It caused not a ripple. "Oh, yes," the man said. "I re-member her, she's the one had to dump her cargo and go into repair dock." He went back and shuffled through his files. "Here." Kettrick stared at the typed sheet, not really seeing it. "She'll be tied up a couple of weeks, at least. But I guess they did all right in the Market, so it's not a calamity. You'll probably find your friend at one of the hostels. You can leave a message on the board, if you want to, in case he comes in."

"Thanks," said Kettrick. "Maybe I will." He was shaken. He wanted to go somewhere and think. Headded, "If I don't find him."

He started for the door.

The yellow-eyed man trotted alongside. "Earthman, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Long way from home," said the man. "What ship?"

"Venture" said Kettrick. It was a common name. There would be at least six Ventures in any given port at any given time. He beckoned to Chai.

"Quite a playmate you've got there," said the yellow-eyed man. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks again," said Kettrick, and went out into the street.

He went well away from the Hall. Then he found a carved stone bench beside a ca.n.a.l and sat down, and stared at the black water.

Starbird had ended her flight. Her cargo was sold in the Market. And where was Seri?

Where was the Doomstar?

Gurra, Thwayn, Kirnanoc, Trace. Only we never got to Trace. Starbird dumped her cargo and went into repair. Had she really had a breakdown, or was Seri burying his trail? Kettrick did not believe it was a simple breakdown. It could happen, of course. Ships were ships, even one carrying the Doomstar. They did crack tubes or blow their relays. But if Starbird really had, her crew would not be sitting in a hostel. Time was too short. Seri could not wait two weeks, or three. He would have to find another ship and go on.

Only we never got to Trace. We broke down at Kirnanoc, if the I-C or anyone else should ask.

And we're still there. A ship can't carry a Doomstar, can she, if she's sitting in repair?

Well, of course. It was just too easy, tagging Seri from Point A to Point B. The itinerary had to be posted because of I-C regulations, and therefore it might be followed. But no-body can follow you if you're not going anywhere.

End of trail.

Kettrick got up. He went back to the busy streets, with the many-colored crowds and the tall pale Achernans moving through them, cold and proud, wrapped in silken cloaks. At random he selected a place that catered to outworlders with food and entertainment. In the lobby there was a bank of public communicators, each one enclosed in a plastic bubble for privacy.

Kettrick went into one and called the I-C.

A bored female voice answered. Kettrick asked to speak to the agent. The voice required him to please state his business.

"Contraband," said Kettrick, and she said, "Oh," and put him through. A man's voice, rather sharp and irritable, came on.

"All right, what is it?"

Kettrick said, "Is your recorder started?"

Sounding a little startled, the agent said, "Yes."

Forcing himself to speak slowly and clearly, Kettrick said, "This afternoon the ship Grellah, P.O.

Ree Darva, Tananaru, landed on pad number 895dashGYdash4...in case they've moved her. Her skipper and crew were arrested by the s.p.a.ce-port guards and are being held by somebody, if they're still alive. I'd appreciate if it you'd call the appropriate emba.s.sies. Boker, Captain, and Hurth, Mate, fromHlakra. Glevan, En-gineer, from Pittan. I'd appreciate it if you'd call the em-ba.s.sies right away. The only thing these men did was ask about a ship named "Starbird."

There was a sound on the other end as though the agent had leaned forward abruptly. "Who is that?

Who's speak-ing?"

Kettrick asked, "Are you bugged?"

The agent said grimly, "As of the last two hours, I think we're clean. Unless they've worked awfully fast. We're get-ting to be experts around here."

"I'll take a chance. This is Johnny Kettrick..."

"Kettrick? Kettrick...!"

"Shut up and listen. Seri Otku, in Starbird, picked up one component of the Doomstar on Gurra, and a second on Thwayn. Starbird is now here at Achern, in the repair dock. She was i-t'd to Trace, but she isn't going there. Do you have any information on the whereabouts of Seri Otku?"

The agent said, "None. Kettrick, where are you? Ket-trick..."

"Stand by, I'm going to see what I can find out. And call those emba.s.sies!"

He flipped the switch, cutting short the urgent clamorings on the other end. The last thing he wanted now was to be picked up by the I-C and badgered about his old sins. Or about anything.

How much good it would do to call the emba.s.sies he didn't know. He didn't even know whether Boker and the others were still alive. If they were, the quickest and best way to help them would be to break this business wide open.

In the meantime, he had done all he could.

He went out again with Chai, into the streets. He kept glancing back whenever he could without being obvious about it, to no avail. In the kaleidoscopic swirl of the crowds it was impossible to tell if he were being followed.

At the first ca.n.a.l he found a public livery. The Achernan boatman watched with enormous distaste as Chai clambered in after Kettrick and settled herself in the curtained house.

"The Market," Kettrick said, and the boatman pushed off, the little motor in the stern purring almost inaudibly.

It was only after some minutes of threading the waterways that split upon the towering pink cliffs of palaces and diverged to flow beneath carved temples from which a thousand faces watched with time-bleared stony eyes, beneath the fretted peaks of many-chambered dwellings, and past green prome-nades heavy with the poison sweetness of the white vine, that Kettrick noticed a particular boat always behind them.

17.

The boat had at its forepost a lantern with a crack in it. Otherwise he might never have seen it until too late. There were many boats, coming, going, drifting, with sounds of music and laughter coming softly through their curtains. The music was sweet and haunting in the extreme, and it set his nerves on edge.

The crack in the lantern was a thin one, shaped roughly like an old long S. It was in the colored outer sh.e.l.l, so that the cold light sphere inside showed a bright white thread against the soft green. He saw it once shortly after they started. He saw it again after the first branching, and yet again after the second.

From that time on he watched it.It was perfectly possible that someone else was bound for the same destination. The Market never closed, and many outworlders preferred to do business at night because of the daytime heat. There were also an infinite number of destina-tions along the way. But he remembered the white rabbit man with the coyote eyes, and he wondered if there had not been a call to somebody about the Earthman with the big gray Tch.e.l.l who came asking for Starbird.

They entered a long stretch where there chanced to be no other boats at the moment, and suddenly the green lantern put on speed and began to close.

An Achernan voice, speaking Achernan, hailed Kettrick's boatman, and he slowed to answer. The green lantern slid closer and a tall Achernan in a pale cloak appeared, standing by the forepost. He talked to the boatman, reaching out to grasp the sternpost of Kettrick's boat.

Kettrick came out of the house, moving very fast. He hit the boatman. The boatman flung up his arms and fell toward the bow of the other boat, catching at the outstretched arm of the Achernan in the pale cloak. They fell together into the water. Kettrick pushed the motor control to its highest notch. The boat sped away with what seemed like agonizing slow-ness. Looking back, he saw four Achernans in the boat with the green lantern, two looking after him while the other two worked to pull their comrade out of the water. They cuffed the boatman away and he began to swim toward the bank. In a minute they were coming on again, coming fast.

The ca.n.a.l stretched ahead of Kettrick, a darkly gleaming road down which he moved with the silence of a dream. The great buildings rose on either side, their windows full of enigmatic lights. The boat came on behind him.

And there was no escape.

"Very well," thought Kettrick. "Then I will fight." He called to Chai to be ready, and swung the boat around.

For a moment or two the Achernans did not seem to un-derstand what he was doing. The prow of his boat leaped at them, drawing a long V of ripples across the quiet water be-hind it. They seemed to think that he was trying to break past them, and they swerved as though to bar his way, and he laughed and braced himself and rammed into them at full speed.

In the light of his own forepost lantern he saw their startled angry faces, the black eyes with the faint stripes at the corners, the narrow supercilious heads. Then the heads and faces bounced wildly about and the lantern went out with a thin shattering crash. Kettrick bent double over his own knees, sliding forward. There were splashing noises, and cries, and wooden sounds of breaking. Kettrick threw the motor into reverse.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the boat wrenched and shook itself and backed away. The other one was settling fast and the Achernans were all in the water, either thrown there by the impact or caught by the quick subsidence. Kettrick continued to run backward away from them.

Chai came back to him. "Water come in front, John-nee."

"I'm not surprised."

"No fight."

"Don't worry, Chai. The night is still young."

He looked for a place to stop. There were landings and water stairs by every building, only these were too brightly illuminated to suit him. However, there was nothing in be-tween, and he could not continue this sternwise flight forever. His own boat was filling, the forepost sinking visibly. He bowed to the inevitable and pulled in to the nearest landing.

They left the boat to do as she wished and went up the water stairs. The stone treads had beenhollowed by a thou-sand generations of feet, and not one of them human. Or unhuman, depending on where you sat; Kettrick remembered a small lecture he had once given on Earth, roughly a million years ago before the Doomstar, to a girl who did not like people-sized things that talked. They all think of themselves as human, and us as not. The Achernan name for non-Achernans was "beast-born," which nicely covered all origins from ape to anything. So his feet were the interlopers, the unclean. He was glad he had Chai for company.

The building loomed ma.s.sively above them. There were lights inside, and a long high hall of stone with a polished floor. This was a private landing and there was no way out of it to the public street except through the building.

They entered the hall. Even Chai's soft footsteps seemed to echo like thunder from the vault. Faces watched them, coldly smiling faces arched on slender necks, the necks poised on fluidly graceful bodies that seemed to coil upward along the s.p.a.ced pillars. Kettrick felt extremely unwelcome. He had a sudden horror of being trapped in this hall, with the wet Achernans slithering out of the ca.n.a.l behind him and others in front, all enemies whether they served the Doomstar or not.

He began to run, with Chai loping beside him.

Just as they approached the outer entrance a couple came in, the man in a cloak of yellow silk, the woman in clinging white that emphasized her supple lines, her pale skin fired here and there with jewels.

Her eye stripes were sharper, a brighter blue than the man's. The two froze staring as Kettrick and the big gray Tch.e.l.l went past them. Kettrick heard their voices, in a manner remarkably human, begin to chatter in astonishment behind him. Then the night streets enfolded him and Chai and covered them, at least partially.

Kettrick slowed down to a fast walk. They seemed to have shaken the pursuit for a moment. How long that would last he didn't know. He felt the knife inside his tunic, to make sure it was still there. He paused a moment to get his bear-ings and continued on his interrupted way to the Market.

The Market could be heard long before it was seen. It had a busy sort of beehive sound, mingled with the lighter noises of a carnival. Guided by the sound, Kettrick came out of a quiet street onto the bank of the wide barge ca.n.a.l that brought the cargoes down from the s.p.a.ceport, and the Market burst upon him from the other side.

It took up all the s.p.a.ce on a good-sized island. There were closed storage sheds, and long open sheds for bartering, and all around the edges, like a wall against the ophidian world beyond, there were taverns and restaurants and sleep-ing units, all human. All the business done there was done by humans.

The Achernans made their handsome profit simply by taxing the cargoes as they entered, as they changed hands, and as they left.

Kettrick crossed the nearest bridge over the ca.n.a.l. The brazen glare of the Market lights was harsh after the gentle lamps of Achern's streets. He loved them. He loved the loud, coa.r.s.e voices of beast-born men arguing over the price of something. He loved their laughter. He even loved the smell of them, the acrid reek of humanity after a day of sweltering heat.

As he entered the covered walk around the Market it began to rain, a hard straight downpour that smoked off the shed roofs. Puddles appeared magically in the paving of crushed sh.e.l.l. Business continued uninterrupted, and in a matter of minutes the rain stopped and the puddles drained away. The night was only a little steamier than before.

Kittrick did not immediately see anyone he knew. He dis-covered that he was terribly hungry and badly in need of a drink. There was a tavern he had used to prefer, close to the southeast corner of the market. He cut across in a long diagonal between the sheds, where bales of goods from all over the Cl.u.s.ter were being opened and shaken out and touched and chaffered over and packed up again, flinging out a unique perfume of mingled scents on the heavy air, the exhalations of a hundred planets, enormouslyexciting. This was one part of Achern that Kettrick liked.

He pa.s.sed one shed where the blue-skinned, white-crested men from a Hlakran ship were sweating bales off a loader, and he thought of Boker and Hurth and felt sick all over again. Then one of the men turned and saw him, stared, and shouted.

"Johnny! Johnny, am I seeing ghosts?"

"Clutha." Kettrick embraced him like a brother. The Hlakran was a friend of Boker's, a frequent visitor to his home in the Out-Quarter when he happened to be at Tananaru, and a cheerful pirate with whom Kettrick had gotten happily drunk on a dozen different worlds.

"But, man," Clutha asked him, "how does this happen? The last I heard..."

"I'll tell you about it over a drink."

Clutha glanced doubtfully at the bales. "Well..."

"Please," said Kettrick.

Clutha looked at him. Then he said something to the men and went with Kettrick.

The tavern was busy but not crowded. Kettrick found a place in a corner where they could talk.

And all of a sudden it was Old Home Week.

A small b.u.t.terball man whose skin was pied black and white like a spaniel puppy came to take their order, looked twice at Kettrick, and let out a squeal of joy, bouncing on his short legs. "Johnny, Johnny!

When did they let you back?"

His glad cry made the men at the nearest occupied table turn around, and one of them jumped up and came over. He was bald and lank, with huge pointed ears and a long face and a skin the color of a spanked baby. "Johnny," he said. "By all that's unholy."

A great horse-toothed grin split his face. He clapped Kettrick on the shoulder with one long arm and fetched the little pied man a swat on his rump with the other.

"Drinks are on me, Quip. h.e.l.lo, Clutha. Where'd you find him, floating around somewhere in mid-s.p.a.ce, poaching sun-beams? Does the I-C know you're back, Johnny?" Abruptly he turned and bawled to a man on the far side of the room. "Nedri! Come here, I've got a surprise."

The man rose and came over, carrying a drink in his hand. Kettrick watched him come. Nedri was a copper-haired, golden-skinned Darvan, and the last Kettrick knew about him he was skipper on one of the ships that he, Kettrick, had used to own in partnership with Seri Otku.

Old Home Week, for fair.