Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 18

They approached their own ship's ramp. The man on duty gave a salute, with his weapon, that was more comradely than official. As he returned the courtesy, Parnell smiled. He and Zelde went upship. After a quick visit to Control-no problems there-they went to quarters.

Parnell closed the door. "Zelde. . . ." He reached, and she moved to him. Kissing, undoing each other's clothes: "It's as you said; I do still feel good. So let's get to each other before the trair does its second trick."

How the booze part went with Parnell, Zelde wasn't sure. But she herself didn't start feeling drunk until afterward, dozing off with his head cuddled against her chin. And by that time, it didn't matter for h.e.l.l.

If she had any hangover, she slept through it-and woke, feeling fine, in time to eat before taking the watch. Parnell was still asleep; she left without waking him.

She had a quiet watch. The last liberty parties were aboard, so she had no leave roster to check. Summit Bay had a few questions about cargo; Zelde consulted the computer and gave the answers.

She was bored; the watch went slowly. At last Carlo 153.

Mauragin relieved her, and she headed toward the galley for a snack.

Parnell was there; she filled a tray-partly-and joined him. "Been sleeping all this time?" He looked tired again, but she thought she'd better make a joke of it.

He shook his head. "Up for several hours. I've been doing a little studying. On where to go next, mostly."

"You decide yet?"

"I think so. It's been a real worry, trying to get some kind of trustworthy coordinates for a Hidden World. Turk Kestler finally delivered the goods, a few hours ago. And explained what the delay was, with the Underground."

She swallowed a bite, then said, "Like to hear it."

Parnell made a savage face. "The contact she first knew of-Horsehead, the one in charge. He was caught, only a short time before we got here, and died under questioning by our friend Cort Verrane."

Breath hissed through Zelde's teeth. "They all blown, then? The whole Underground lot?"

"It wouldn't seem so. Still, that risk is another reason to lift, now, as soon as possible." He waved a hand. "But listen. Whoever took over from Horsehead fed Turk the coordinates for two Hidden Worlds, one through each of her contacts.

Both of them coincide with sun-type stars on record, so that much is solid."

"Anyplace I ever heard of?"

"I doubt it. Refuge? Fair Ball?" She shook her head. "Well, both names are familiar to me," he said. "Refuge was a legend, in the scuttleb.u.t.t back at the old Slaughterhouse. Almost Earthlike, the story went, except for lighter gravity and less extremes of climate. Nicelo know it really exists."

"That where we go, then?"

Parnell frowned. "It's a tossup. Fair Ball sounds good, too. Not a terribly long haul from here, for instance. The one hazard is, it's only a few months, by ships'

time, from UET's colony on Johnson's Walk. That's quite a distance, mind you, by ordinary standards-but possibly close enough to give more chance of crossing UET traffic." He shrugged. "Not a major factor, though."

With nothing to say, Zelde waited. Finally Parnell smiled. "One thing about Refuge is its position-practically 154.

in line, from here, with Far Corner. You remember? The place the Hoover had last visited? So if Refuge didn't pan out, on a near look, we could go accel again and hit Far Corner with good fuel margin."

"UET, though, I thought it was."

"Yes, but a backwoodsy place; no garrison. It's known that Escaped Ships touch there fairly often." Now he chuckled, but waited a moment before he spoke. "And there, maybe we could nose around and see if the local Underground could tell us whether Kickem Bernardez was really Escaped, or not!"

She frowned, thinking back to the pa.s.sage with that ship. "You think he did, then?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Early years in the Slaughterhouse, before he was moved into my cadre section, Kickem was pretty thick with Bran Tregare. And once, I've heard, they shipped together."

Tregare-the name sounded familiar; she repeated it. "Somebody said that name before. Sure-when I was first on here. What about him, was it?"

Now Parnell looked puzzled; then his face cleared. "Yes-the woman who brought you; she'd shipped with him, and she hinted around, trying to find out what I knew.

I couldn't trust her, of course."

She tapped her cup on the table; he poured it full, and said, "Stories differ. But if there's truth in any of them, Bran Tregare has the only armed ship ever to Escape.

It's called Inconnu now, and scares UET more than all the rest put together. How he did it is something else; he was only Third Officer, and there are some nasty rumors of mutiny after Escape."

He shrugged. "Maybe someday we'll find out, maybe not." He finished his own coffee, and stood. "Time for me to tour Control, and maybe sit in for a while there.

Maura-gin's coming along somewhat better this time, but it can't hurt to quiz him occasionally-keep him on his toes."

"Sure, Ragir. I've got stuff to look after; then maybe I'll take a rest. Wake me up if you feel like it." After he was gone, she dawdled a few minutes before leaving.

She stopped off in quarters. Ready to leave, she looked into the big mirror and wondered, suddenly-How did other people see her? She knew her height gave her an 155.

edge; ever since the year she'd grown so fast-at fourteen, would it be?-she'd noticed that. Her face didn't look young or old; the strong features hadn't changed much, either. And her usual expression, she decided, had a challenging look to it. Maybe she'd better watch that; it could get her in trouble. Dopples? Could be. . . .

The tight haircut made her face look stronger, too, she thought. And the heavy ring in the one ear, and the other with no lobe-no two ways about it, they gave her a tough look. Grinning, she nodded to her reflection. Maybe that G.o.dd.a.m.n bandit did me a favor!

She went downship, hoping to catch Turk off duty, and visit. But beside the quarters door, the "Stay Out" light was on. There was no device, here, to take a message; she shook her head and started to turn away. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the light turn off. She smiled and pushed to ring the entry buzzer, now connected again.

Rooster, opening the door, was closing fasteners on his worksuit. He grinned.

"Come in. Just in time-which is to say, not too early."

Coming out of the bathroom in a robe, Turk said, "Oh, quit bragging, will you, Rooster? Hi, Zelde-use a drink?"

"Sure." They were drinking Parleyvoo beer; that was fine with Zelde. She sat and sipped at it. "Parnell says you got us a couple of Hidden Worlds. Tell me about 'em?"

Turk belched. "Lot of bubbles in this brew; doesn't pay to take it too fast." She swallowed some more, then said, "On the subject of Refuge, I didn't get too much scoop; that's one closemouthed agent. Just that it's very Earth-like-"

"Parnel! said so, too. He's heard of it a long time."

"And several Escaped Ships base there. The man wouldn't say which ones-or, more likely, he doesn't know. Though he says Tregare's been in and out a few times."

Turk shrugged. "Fair Ball, though-the woman agent gave me quite a rundown."

"And it checks," said Rooster. "I've heard the place described, you see, by a man who's been there."

Zelde stared. "But how-?"

"He was on a ship that Escaped, but he wanted to get back to Earth, to his family. So he jumped ship at a UET-colony landing."

Zelde had more questions, but Turk said, "Fair Ball, you 156.

wanted to hear about. All right-the first thing is, it's smallish compared to Earth or here, but not very light on gees or air, so it must be heavy for its size."

Rooster said, "Whiter sun-so it has to be bigger, but farther away so it doesn't look it. Longer year, then. Pretty good climate at the settlement-a little hot and dry, even though the air's heavy enough with water vapor to haze the sky pretty much.

They irrigate, there, out of a river that comes down from the mountains."

"The settlement, now." Intent, Zelde leaned forward.

Head tipped to one side, Turk looked away for a moment. "Trying to remember.

Keep in mind, we're talking some years back, with more to go before we could get there. Last report, the town was only a few thousand. And not much offworld trade."

"Why not?"

Turk shrugged. "Because it is a small group, for one thing. And mostly farming and fishing-not too much to interest ships."

Zelde's eyes narrowed. "So we go there-you sure we can get fuel for the next jump?"

Now Rooster chuckled. "Not to worry. There's fuel ore-or n.o.body would have settled the place. Look-the first thing any ship does, scouting a colony site from groundside, is to set up the makings for a fuel refinery. Standard UET practice, and I imagine that Escaped ships do it the same."

"Yeah, sure." She nodded. "What else Parnell said, though-Fair Ball's awful close to a UET planet. How come?"

Turk shook her head. "Not that close. A lot nearer than usual, to be safe-but there's a gimmick." While she poured her gla.s.s full again, Zelde waited. Turk began drawing, with her hands, in the air. "Here's Johnson's Walk, see? And over here, Fair Ball. But in between, and blocking direct sight or travel, there's a gas nebula."

Zelde didn't understand, and she guessed it showed. "Not a real nebula, like a whole galaxy. But-you ever heard of the Crab Nebula?" Zelde hadn't. "Well, it's an old blown-up supernova, is what. And you can't take a ship through it at much more than planetary speeds-let alone see across it. So-"

"So UET don't know that Fair Ball's there, you mean?"

Rooster cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose they have its 157.

sun on their charts. But it's off their shipping routes-and not handy to get to, from the Walk, without a special reason. And must be at least twenty other stars in the general hunk of s.p.a.ce around the Walk, that they haven't had time to check on, either."

"UET's cut back on exploration," said Turk, "since Escaped ships began raiding colonies; They're getting cautious."

"Raiding? This Tregare, maybe?"

Turk grinned. "You've heard about him? Yes-he's the number-one lobo, but not the only one. You don't need an armed ship to wipe a town by landing-or lifting off- across it, drifting sideways. n.o.body actually does it, unless they have to-but everybody knows you can, if you decide to. Or you land peaceful, at some port with no other ships groundside just then, and storm off ship with your whole crew armed. Catch the locals with their pants down, and take what you need. If the scuttle has any truth to it, that's happened a lot, too."

"Then why-" But before she finished the question, Zelde saw the answer. "Sure- we couldn't do like that, here, because we needed a drive cube. And over at Summit Bay, three UET ships in shape to wipe us while we couldn't lift."

Rooster leaned to pat her shoulder. "You're getting it." He squinted one eye. "I keep forgetting, this is your first trip and you don't already know all this stuff."

Time to leave; Zelde stood. "So do I, sometimes. Hey, it's been nice, talking-and thanks for the beer."

Back at quarters she showered, then lay down to sleep a while. She woke to Parnell's touch. "Ragir? What time is it?"

"There's an hour before lunch. Then you're wanted, over at Port Admin. I took the call; Cort Verrane did the talking, but he's not the one who wants to see you."

She sat up; the covers fell away. "What's it about?" He didn't answer. "I mean- do I go, or not?" Why wouldn't he say something? "You're nerved about Peralta.

You think this is part of it?" She gripped his shoulders; he winced, and she eased one hand. "What goes on here? What do I do?"

His hand touched her healing ear. "I'm still thinking.

158.

Maybe we can figure it out together." Still, that told her nothing; she waited. "This isn't Peralta; it can't be. What Verrane said-do you remember Torra Defose?"

"The Police-" Policeb.i.t.c.h. Except that-"Sure I remember. But she said she wasn't putting grabs on me."

"I know. And she's the one who's asking for you. That's why I think it's safe, this time."

"You want I should go?"

"Not want-but I think you'd better." With one hand he cupped her chin. "I swear Verrane didn't know what it's about-and if it were big, he would know. So I don't think it can be dangerous. If I thought otherwise, we'd lift right now. A little inconvenient, but we could do it."

Deciding, she said, "All right; I'll go. Now though-" She reached to him. "An hour, you said, before lunch?"

The look he had, then, she hated. "I'm sorry, Zelde. Today I'm-today it's not good with me, at all."

She didn't let her mouth twist. "Not-not any way, Ragir?"

He looked worse, then. But all he said was, "Something inside is acting up badly. I don't know what it is. But I think-and this is the first time, isn't it, since our agree- ment?-before you leave the ship, please issue me one extra pain pill."

She leaned and clung to him. "Oh, Ragir! h.e.l.l, yes-you really need it, 'course I will!"

Silly, maybe, Zelde thought-but dressing to visit Port Admin she tucked away two weapons. The knife was routine; the gun wasn't. A tiny monster-it shot needle-sized pellets at speeds she didn't believe, and carried one h.e.l.l of a lot of them. Shooting it, she'd learned, near to took your hand off. And if it hit you-pinhole going in, Dopples had said, crater coming out. She stashed the gun where it wouldn't show, cold against her thigh.

Push come to shove, she couldn't really shoot her way out of Admin. But the chance to try, if she had to. . . .

Parnell lay still, eyes shut-but not breathing like sleep. She kissed his forehead; he mumbled something she didn't catch. She went downship, out into hazy sunlight, and began walking.

Pa.s.sing the Bonaparte, she saw someone at the airlock.

159.

Sun glare made it hard to see, but she recognized Peralta, watching.

Which meant he wouldn't be at Admin. She'd settle for that. . . .

The Admin building squatted-four storeys plus a penthouse cupola-gray concrete with beige plastic trim, dotted with rows of small windows. Above flew the UET flag- blue letters, black-bordered, on a red field. The three characters made one shape; the right side of the U was the left upright of the E, and the E's upper bar extended to top the T. Not simple cloth, that flag-it read the same from both sides. To one side of the parking area an open-topped groundcar showed the same emblem, plus Police markings.

Climbing the main entrance steps, Zelde saw barred bas.e.m.e.nt windows looking out onto wells at each side. No one guarded the double doors, propped open to the warm day.

She walked into a small lobby, a little over five meters to a side. At the back was an elevator; to its left rose a flight of stairs. On the right side was another, leading down. A lateral corridor led off each way; signs read "Odd Numbers Left" and "Even Numbers Right." A few people moved through the area, but she saw n.o.body who was obviously on duty.

Beside the elevator was a Directory listing; she stepped up and read it. All right; Commandant Trask's office was 500-penthouse-and Cort Verrane's 501. Verrane had made the call-but wait a minute-how about Information, in 103? She turned left and found that room.