The Icarus Hunt Part 21

"I said don't mind him," she repeated, flipping her hand toward the Ulkomaal in the more or less universal gesture of contemptuous dismissal, the dim room light glinting momentarily off the large gaudy rings she was wearing. Now that she was facing us, I could see she was wearing the display scarf of a bar girl knotted around her neck, the particular tartan pattern advertising what services she offered and the charge for them. I wondered distantly whether Tera would know about such things; I rather hoped she didn't. "Nurptric the Nosy, they call him," the woman continued. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Business slow?" Tera asked, her voice frosty. Apparently, she knew all about the scarf.

The woman gave her a smile that was a good eighty percent smirk. "Yours too?"

she asked sweetly, snagging a chair from the next table and hauling it over.

With a hip she deftly shoved Tera over, to Tera's obvious consternation, andplanted her chair squarely between the two of us. "I'm just being sociable, you being strangers here and all," she added, dropping into the seat and swiveling to put her face to me and her back to Tera. "Any law against that?"

"Not too many laws against anything here," Tera countered pointedly.

"Obviously."

"And like you say, business is slow," the woman added, wiggling her hips and shoulders to carve a bit more room for herself. "I'm sure not going to get any decent conversation out of anyone else in here. My name's Jennifer. How about buying me a drink?"

"How about you going somewhere else?" Tera said, starting to sound angry.

"This is a private conversation."

"Noisy, isn't she?" Jennifer commented, an amused smile playing around her lips.

"Unfriendly, too. You come here often?"

Tera half rose to her feet, sank reluctantly back into her seat as Chort put a gentle hand on her arm. "I'm afraid we're pretty much broke, Jennifer," I said diplomatically. "We've got barely enough money for the fuel we need. Nothing left over for incidentals."

She eyed me speculatively. "Gee, that's too bad," she said, looking over at the Ulkomaal still hovering expectantly behind Chort. "Give me a small vodkaline, Nurp."

His eyebrow crest turned a brief magenta, but he nevertheless nodded. "Of course. And for the rest of you?"

"Have you kompri, by any chance?" Chort asked.

"No, nothing like that," Nurptric said. "We have no Craean drinks."

"We might have some back at s.h.i.+ck Place," Jennifer volunteered. "We cater to all sorts of vices there," she added, giving Chort a sly smile. "It's not far away if you want to go see."

Chort looked at me uncertainly. "If we have the time-?"

"No," Nicabar said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "As soon as the s.h.i.+p's fueled, we're out of here."

"He's right," I seconded. I didn't especially like the thought of spending any more time out in the gloom than I had to, and I certainly wasn't going to let any of the group go wandering off on their own. "We'll take three caff colas and a distilled water," I added to the barkeep.

His eyebrow crest went a little mottled, either a sign of resignation or possibly contempt for such miserliness. "Yes, patronae," he said and turned back to his bar, muttering under his breath as he went.

"Three colas and a water, huh?" Jennifer said, shaking her head. "You really are the big spenders."

"As he said, we're short on cash," Tera said firmly. "So you might as well stop wasting your time."

Jennifer shrugged. "Fine. You know, though, there's an easy way to make some fast money."

She leaned in toward the middle of the table, beckoning us in conspiratorially.

"There's a s.h.i.+p out there somewhere-no one knows where," she said, dropping her voice to a murmur. "You find it, and it's worth a hundred thousand commarks toyou. Cash money."

A matched set of Kalixiri ferrets with cold feet began running up and down my back. "Really," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "How come it's worth that much? And who to?"

"I don't know why they want it," she said, half turning and snagging a folded piece of paper from the next table over that had apparently been left behind during the earlier ma.s.s exodus. "But it's all right here," she said, handing it to me.

I unfolded it. To my complete lack of surprise, it was the same flyer James Fulbright had waved in my face back on Dorscind's World.

With two unpleasant differences. First, as Jennifer had said, the reward had been jumped from the original five thousand to a hundred thousand. And second, instead of my old Mercantile Authority photo, there was a much more up-to-date sketch. An extremely good sketch.

"Sounds like a con to me," I commented offhandedly as I folded the paper again and dropped it on the table in front of me, my skin crawling beneath the fake scars on my cheek. So that was why the Patth agent on Dorscind's World had surrendered without even token resistance. Letting me get off the planet had been less important in his eyes than making sure he stayed alive to take back a proper description to his masters. Suddenly my disguise didn't seem quite so comforting and impenetrable anymore. "So why show it to us?" I asked.

She waved a hand around. "You can see how it is," she said, her eyes and voice starting to drift toward the seductive. "I'm stuck down here. But you're not.

You might run into this Icarus out there."

Chort made a strange sound in the back of his throat. "What s.h.i.+p did you say?

The Icarus?"

"I guess no one knows what it looks like," she said, ignoring him, her eyes still on me and growing ever more seductive. "But they say that guy on the flyer is aboard it. You might spot the s.h.i.+p; you might spot him."

"And then?" I prompted.

She leaned close to me. "Then you could call me here," she said, breathing the words straight into my face now. The perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath was definitely from the lower end of the price spectrum. "I know who to get the word to, and who to collect the bounty from."

"You say they just want the s.h.i.+p?" Tera spoke up. She had picked up the flyer now and was looking at it, and in the admittedly inadequate light I thought her face had gone a little pale.

"They want the s.h.i.+p and crew both," Jennifer said, still gazing at me. "What, can't you read?"

"What for?" Tera persisted, handing the flyer off to Nicabar. "What do they want them for?"

Reluctantly, Jennifer leaned back again and looked at Tera over her shoulder.

"I.

don't know," she growled, clearly annoyed at the interruption in her sales pitch. "And I don't care, either. The point is that there's money to be made, and we could be the ones who make it."

"And how would you propose we split it?" I asked.

She smiled at me again. The seductress role was apparently all she knew how to play. "All I want is pa.s.sage back to Earth and a couple thousand to help me get set up there," she breathed, leaning toward me again. "That's all-you'd get allthe rest. Just for one little StarrComm call. I'd even pay you back for the call."

"Why do we need you at all?" Nicabar put in, looking up from the flyer. "Why can't we just call this number ourselves?"

"Because I know how to get you an extra fifty thousand," the woman said, breathing her words into my face again. "Private money. Revenge money. See those three in the back?"

I turned my head. The three robed figures were still hunched over their table; but as we all looked that direction, as if on cue, one of them stirred, rolling his shoulders to the sides as if adjusting them in his sleep, then falling silent and still again. But the movement had been enough to drop his hood partially back, revealing his face.

It was another of the Lumpy Clan.

From my left, from Nicabar's direction, came a faint but sharp intake of air.

I.

turned to look at him, but by the time I got there he had his usual stolid expression back in place.

But the stifled gasp alone was very enlightening. Clearly, somewhere along the line, Nicabar had run into these lads before.

"They pa.s.sed the word that they were putting another fifty thousand into the pot," Jennifer continued. Like Chort's reaction earlier to the name of the hunted s.h.i.+p, she'd apparently also missed Nicabar's reaction to the Lumpies.

Either she was drunker than I'd thought, or else she was putting so much effort into her attempted seduction of me that she didn't have any attention to spare for anyone else. "I hear the guy on the flyer smoked a couple of their pals."

"Not a very friendly thing to do," I said, peering with some difficulty into her face, not because she was unpleasant to look at but because she'd once again moved to a position bare centimeters away from me. Maybe she was counting on her perfume to seal this deal for her.

Inside my jacket, my phone vibrated. "Excuse me," I said, half turning away from her and digging into my pocket, glad for an excuse to break away from that gaze, even temporarily.

It was, as I'd expected, Ixil. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Just fine," I told him as Nurptric returned to our table with our drinks. "We found out why everyone else is gone."

"Good," he said. "Whatever the reason, they're coming back."

"It seems-" I broke off. "What?"

"I'm reading fifteen s.h.i.+ps on landing-approach vectors," he said. "At least

five.

of them are heading for our s.p.a.ceport."

I looked up at the Ulkomaal. "Nurptric, do the Balthee ever actually land to pick up prisoners?"

He seemed shocked. "Of course not. They wouldn't dare-this is Ulko sovereign territory."

"Then you're right, they're coming back," I confirmed to Ixil, trying to keep the sudden tension out of my voice. A whole crowd of returning pirates, smugglers, and cutthroats; and probably every one of them with a Patth sketch of me folded neatly in his pocket. Just what we needed. "What's the fueling status?""About half-done," he said. "We should be topped off by the time the first wave arrives. I presume we'd like to be b.u.t.toned down and ready to fly by then?"

"If not sooner," I told him. Whatever Uncle Arthur had cooked up for us, he'd better hit the road with it, and fast. "We're on our way."

I clicked off and returned the phone to my pocket. "Trouble?" Jennifer asked.

"Just the opposite," I a.s.sured her, lifting my gla.s.s to my lips but not drinking any of it. The barkeep might have recognized me and slipped in something special, and I didn't want to find out about it the hard way. If I hadn't been a raving paranoid before, I reflected, this trip would very likely do the trick.

"Our s.h.i.+p's almost fueled up, and it looks like we can be out of here before the rest of your clientele start tying up all the perimeter grav beams."

Her face fell, just a bit. All that effort, and now we were about to leave without letting her finish her presentation. "Think about my offer, okay?" she said, a note of pleading in her voice. "There could be extra benefits, too, not just the money."

"Oh?" I said, resisting the temptation to look suggestively up and down her tight-fitting outfit. It would have been a cheap shot, and I imagined she got enough of that from the Baker's Dozen's usual denizens. "Such as?"

Cheap shots, apparently, were Jennifer's stock-in-trade. Putting her right hand behind my head, the corners of her ring catching momentarily on my hair, she pulled me the last thirty centimeters still separating us and kissed me.

There was nothing tentative or perfunctory about it, either. It was a full-mouth, full-pressure lip dock, with all the desperate strength of someone facing her absolute last chance. I thought about how she'd spoken of being stuck here, of how she'd asked for pa.s.sage to Earth for putting us onto the Patth hunt, and for the first time since we'd met I actually felt a little sorry for her. Of all of us at that table, I could empathize most strongly with the feeling of being caught inside an ever-shrinking box.

And then the tip of her tongue pushed between my lips; and abruptly, my twinge of sympathy vanished in a sudden flush of surprise and cautious excitement.

It seemed like a long time before the pressures fore and aft slackened off and she pulled away, though it was probably no more than a few seconds. As her head moved out of my line of sight, I saw that Tera was looking at me with a cast-granite expression on her face. Irreverently, I found myself wondering how many other expressions of surprise, outrage, or disgust she'd gone through while I wasn't looking. Even a scoundrel as low-cla.s.s as I was shouldn't act that way in the presence of a lady.

"Just remember, there's a lot more where that came from," Jennifer said, using her seductive voice again as she rose leisurely to her feet. Clearly, she was feeling very pleased with herself. "If you spot the Icarus, call the Morsh Pon StarrComm exchange and leave a message for Jennifer at s.h.i.+ck Place." With one last smile all around, plus a smirk for Tera, she sauntered away.

The others were all looking at me, varying degrees of expectation on their faces. "Well, don't just sit there," I said. To my perhaps hypersensitive ears my voice sounded a little slurred. "Drink up, and let's get out of here."

They did so without comment. I let my own cola sit where it was, keeping asurrept.i.tious eye on Jennifer as I sorted out the proper number of small-denomination coins. She returned to her table and spoke briefly with her friend there; but as the four of us stood up she left that table and wandered off again, this time heading in the general direction of the three Lumpies.

"Let's go," I told the others, putting a hand on Tera's back to encourage her forward, a friendly gesture I instantly abandoned at the glare she flashed me.

We headed to the door; and as I ushered the others through, I took one final look behind us. The pirates were looking back at us, with the universal suspicious expressions of men permanently on the run. Nurptric the barkeep was busily puttering around the bar, his eyebrow crest fairly glowing with the eager antic.i.p.ation of customers on their way in. Jennifer's friend had a small mirror out and was checking her makeup, with much the same air of antic.i.p.ation.

And Jennifer herself was at the back table leaning over one of the Lumpies, speaking solicitously to him as if trying to wake him up, her ring again catching the light as she patted him soothingly on the back of his neck. Her eyes caught mine; and though she didn't smile, I knew we understood each other.

The trip back was very quiet. After what had happened back at the taverno, no one seemed interested in talking to me, and I certainly wasn't going to start any conversations myself.

We reached the Icarus to find Ixil in the process of paying off the fuelers. I ordered everyone to their stations, then waited in the wraparound until Ixil was finished so that I could personally retract the ladder and seal the hatch.

Heading up the now deserted mid-deck corridor to the bridge, I sealed the door behind me and sat down in the command chair.

And only then, with no one around to see, I pulled from its resting place between my gum and cheek the poker-chip-sized object that Jennifer had transferred from her mouth to mine during our kiss. Uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the top, I carefully extracted the folded microprint doc.u.ment nestled inside, and the six small borandis tablets that had been packed tightly together beneath it.

Uncle Arthur had come through.

THE DOc.u.mENT, ANNOYINGLY but not surprisingly, was written in Kalixiri.

"I hate it when he does that," I sighed, handing the reader over to Ixil and flopping onto my back on my bunk. "Here, you do it. I'm not up to deciphering Kalixiri right now."

"Certainly," Ixil said, resettling himself comfortably against the door of my cabin and showing the good sense not to lecture me yet again as to why Uncle Arthur did things this way. Kalixiri was probably one of the least-known languages in the Spiral, which made for automatic security if the wrong person happened across one of his missives, though it was surprisingly easy for non-Kalixiri to learn. Furthermore, the way the alphabet was laid out, the words themselves were generally much shorter than the English equivalents, which meant he could cram in more text per square centimeter.

And from what I'd seen of this one, he had those square centimeters very well crammed indeed.

"We start with Almont Nicabar," Ixil said. "We have a photo. Slightly out-of-date... but yes, it does appear to be him. Certificate in stars.h.i.+p drive and unofficial training in mechanics-the dates and details are here; you'll wantto look them over later. Ten years in the EarthGuard Marines, just as he said, achieving rank of master sergeant... Interesting. Had you ever heard of an attempt six years ago by EarthGuard to get hold of a Patth Talariac Drive?"

"I hadn't until Uncle Arthur mentioned it," I told him, wondering why the mention of six years sounded familiar. "Was Nicabar involved with that?"