John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind by John Maddox Roberts Page B
Authors: John Maddox Roberts
Ads: Link
however.
"Good evening, Tomas," Izquierda said. His gaze fastened on Kiril. "Aren't you from Space Angel's crew, young lady?"
"I invited her up, Director," Huerta said. "I've been giving her the grand tour."
"I might have known," Izquierda said, "that you would find someone to show the ship off to, and that it would be someone pretty. Enjoy your visit, young lady." He turned back to his conversation. There had been no disapproval in his voice. It was hard to believe that this was the man with the killer look she had seen at the diplomatic function. But she knew that she was never wrong about those things.
Kiril barely noticed what she was eating. Izquierda's presence made her nervous, and the other officers at the table were not going out of their way to set her at ease. She was, after all, an interloper from a free freighter, even if she was there as Huerta's guest. She ate a lot anyway. In a way, she didn't mind her relative isolation at the table, because it gave her a little time to think about what she had seen. Izquierda was up to something, and it had been something to do with that forbidden hold and those men who obviously weren't construction workers. And, whether he was in on the plan or not, Huerta was covering for his uncle and was not to be trusted.
But what had all this to do with the aliens? There had to be some reason for hauling Space Angel and her crew all the way out here where negotiations were opening. Was it part of Izquierda's revenge or had he found some convenient way to fit one plot into another? She had known people who could do such things, back in Civis Astra. It all called for further investigation. When Huerta spoke to her, she smiled automatically and said whatever seemed to be most diplomatic. Her mind was elsewhere.
When the dinner broke up, Huerta showed her to her quarters. "There's no telling how long the director will be keeping me in his meeting," Huerta told her, "so I'll assume it'll be a long time. There's a lot more to see in this ship, but it's been a long day and 1 know you're tired. I'll see you in the morning."
"You're right," she said. "I'm.exhausted." She scanned the room for something to clout him with if he should make the wrong move. Instead, he just bowed slightly and left. She was a little disappointed. He could have made some kind of move, even if it earned him a minor bruise.
The suite he had installed her in was lavish, as she had known it would be. She was already numb to magnificence, but the fixtures and appliances intrigued her. She had no idea what most of them were; there seemed to be no manual of instruction, and she wasn't about to ask. Apparently, rich people were expected to know what all these things were. There was a bar with bottles and dispensers. She examined a respirator that was attached to a tube set into the bar. She touched a switch and purple smoke swirled from the tube into the mask. She recognized the scent of a drug favored by certain lowlifes in Civis Astra. It was illegal there, although it was readily available in the dope houses. Apparently, not everybody went by the standards of Civis Astra legality.
She couldn't believe the bathroom. In the center was a walk-in tub big enough for at least a dozen people. The Spartan accommodations of Space Angel allowed only chemical baths, efficient but short on luxury. She had seen baths like this only in holographic entertainments about the lives of the rich. This she had to try. After studying its control panel for a few minutes, she punched in a combination. Water swirled in to form a rising whirlpool, capped with rich foam and pungent with scented oils.
She paused before stepping in. It looked big enough to drown in there. She worked up her courage and took the steps one at a time. When she was in up to her chin, she sat back on the padded ledge and admired the colored lights that played artfully beneath the surface. It had taken some real imagination to turn the simple process of getting
"Good evening, Tomas," Izquierda said. His gaze fastened on Kiril. "Aren't you from Space Angel's crew, young lady?"
"I invited her up, Director," Huerta said. "I've been giving her the grand tour."
"I might have known," Izquierda said, "that you would find someone to show the ship off to, and that it would be someone pretty. Enjoy your visit, young lady." He turned back to his conversation. There had been no disapproval in his voice. It was hard to believe that this was the man with the killer look she had seen at the diplomatic function. But she knew that she was never wrong about those things.
Kiril barely noticed what she was eating. Izquierda's presence made her nervous, and the other officers at the table were not going out of their way to set her at ease. She was, after all, an interloper from a free freighter, even if she was there as Huerta's guest. She ate a lot anyway. In a way, she didn't mind her relative isolation at the table, because it gave her a little time to think about what she had seen. Izquierda was up to something, and it had been something to do with that forbidden hold and those men who obviously weren't construction workers. And, whether he was in on the plan or not, Huerta was covering for his uncle and was not to be trusted.
But what had all this to do with the aliens? There had to be some reason for hauling Space Angel and her crew all the way out here where negotiations were opening. Was it part of Izquierda's revenge or had he found some convenient way to fit one plot into another? She had known people who could do such things, back in Civis Astra. It all called for further investigation. When Huerta spoke to her, she smiled automatically and said whatever seemed to be most diplomatic. Her mind was elsewhere.
When the dinner broke up, Huerta showed her to her quarters. "There's no telling how long the director will be keeping me in his meeting," Huerta told her, "so I'll assume it'll be a long time. There's a lot more to see in this ship, but it's been a long day and 1 know you're tired. I'll see you in the morning."
"You're right," she said. "I'm.exhausted." She scanned the room for something to clout him with if he should make the wrong move. Instead, he just bowed slightly and left. She was a little disappointed. He could have made some kind of move, even if it earned him a minor bruise.
The suite he had installed her in was lavish, as she had known it would be. She was already numb to magnificence, but the fixtures and appliances intrigued her. She had no idea what most of them were; there seemed to be no manual of instruction, and she wasn't about to ask. Apparently, rich people were expected to know what all these things were. There was a bar with bottles and dispensers. She examined a respirator that was attached to a tube set into the bar. She touched a switch and purple smoke swirled from the tube into the mask. She recognized the scent of a drug favored by certain lowlifes in Civis Astra. It was illegal there, although it was readily available in the dope houses. Apparently, not everybody went by the standards of Civis Astra legality.
She couldn't believe the bathroom. In the center was a walk-in tub big enough for at least a dozen people. The Spartan accommodations of Space Angel allowed only chemical baths, efficient but short on luxury. She had seen baths like this only in holographic entertainments about the lives of the rich. This she had to try. After studying its control panel for a few minutes, she punched in a combination. Water swirled in to form a rising whirlpool, capped with rich foam and pungent with scented oils.
She paused before stepping in. It looked big enough to drown in there. She worked up her courage and took the steps one at a time. When she was in up to her chin, she sat back on the padded ledge and admired the colored lights that played artfully beneath the surface. It had taken some real imagination to turn the simple process of getting
Similar Books
