much about." The Holdout looked sharply at Reva, who took her point.
"Still—it's risky."
"Everything's risky. You have to take the chance now and then. I go by my feelings about a person. I'm not usually wrong."
Reva thought of the house pass in her carrybag, and steered the subject on to a different track. "I've asked around about Vask. He's known, but he's low-profile. No one seems to know much about him."
Lish smiled. "You sure that's the only reason you checked him out?"
Her humor evaded the assassin. "What?"
"Maybe you're interested, too."
The tall woman stiffened. "Interested?"
"Come on, Reva, you know how he looks at you. Puppy-dog eyes. He'd follow you around all day, if he could."
"He better not try it. Besides, it's you he talks with all the time." "That's because you aren't exactly conversational. You barely say 'yes' and 'no' to him. It's hard to talk with someone like that."
Reva tapped her nails on the chair arm, the pressure turning the holovids on and off again. "Don't be ridiculous."
"You act like you regret not letting the cat eat him. Is that it?"
Reva's fingers paused in mid-air. "Is that how it seems to you?"
Lish gestured. "You saved the man's life. He asks about you, tries to talk with you, and you pretty much ignore him. That 's all."
"I don't dislike him," the assassin said. "I feel a little... awkward around him."
"Because you saved his life? And now you don't know how to act with him?"
The shrewd guess hit home. Reva was quiet.
"That's an easy one. Drop your business front and loosen up."
"I don't plan to loosen up around Vask."
"Your choice."
"And if he tries puppy-dogging me, he won't live to try it twice."
"I'm sure he won't."
"Hmph." Reva left in a huff, trying to flee the unease she carried inside.
XXXI
The sunset sky was aglow with red-washed clouds and streaks of purple, fading to a greenish-yellow at the far edge of the ocean j horizon. Lish waved good-bye to the last of her legitimate customers, two kelpie hunters returning to Avelar with a load of cryocases, and paused to enjoy the view out the back loading bay. The humid breeze bore the coolness of early evening, and she savored it on her sweat-damp face while smartmechs packed up shop for the night.
Reva would be by soon; the pair would freshen up and go out for dinner, and Lish had agreed to give one of the holodens a try afterward. There would be no sensie-feelie entertainment, with its hallucinogenic drugs, she was promised: just good solid external illusion to fill a few leisure hours.
She was debating what pheromones to wear when a mech interrupted her musings.
"Lish, a customer wishes—" it began, then the customer's own booming voice overrode the deferent machine.
"You are Lish?"
She turned to face the visitor, and looked up, and up, into the leathery red and black mottled visage of an alien. A minimal bodysuit revealed lanky muscles on arms and legs of the same oddly marked flesh as his face. Piercing yellow eyes stared unblinking from a countenance of harsh planes and angles. His intensity was unsettling.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, hiding behind the cool facade of a disinterested businesswoman.
"I need to discuss the hex-pack special."
Though it was a little late for that kind of trade, it was what really paid the bills. "Sure," the Holdout said. "Let's step into the office."
She motioned the alien toward the door and accompanied him. They were soon inside and Lish sat behind her desk. Her customer shut the door behind them, then came to stand before her. She pointed to a chair; the alien ignored her and remained standing, straddle-legged, his arms crossed upon his chest. "My name is Yavobo," he declared, "and I will ask you this only once. Do you sell time patches?"
A sudden fear gripped Lish's heart. This was not how clients approached a Holdout when they had to dicker over price and delivery arrangements. She could bet this fellow didn't want anything she had to sell.
"Are you
"Still—it's risky."
"Everything's risky. You have to take the chance now and then. I go by my feelings about a person. I'm not usually wrong."
Reva thought of the house pass in her carrybag, and steered the subject on to a different track. "I've asked around about Vask. He's known, but he's low-profile. No one seems to know much about him."
Lish smiled. "You sure that's the only reason you checked him out?"
Her humor evaded the assassin. "What?"
"Maybe you're interested, too."
The tall woman stiffened. "Interested?"
"Come on, Reva, you know how he looks at you. Puppy-dog eyes. He'd follow you around all day, if he could."
"He better not try it. Besides, it's you he talks with all the time." "That's because you aren't exactly conversational. You barely say 'yes' and 'no' to him. It's hard to talk with someone like that."
Reva tapped her nails on the chair arm, the pressure turning the holovids on and off again. "Don't be ridiculous."
"You act like you regret not letting the cat eat him. Is that it?"
Reva's fingers paused in mid-air. "Is that how it seems to you?"
Lish gestured. "You saved the man's life. He asks about you, tries to talk with you, and you pretty much ignore him. That 's all."
"I don't dislike him," the assassin said. "I feel a little... awkward around him."
"Because you saved his life? And now you don't know how to act with him?"
The shrewd guess hit home. Reva was quiet.
"That's an easy one. Drop your business front and loosen up."
"I don't plan to loosen up around Vask."
"Your choice."
"And if he tries puppy-dogging me, he won't live to try it twice."
"I'm sure he won't."
"Hmph." Reva left in a huff, trying to flee the unease she carried inside.
XXXI
The sunset sky was aglow with red-washed clouds and streaks of purple, fading to a greenish-yellow at the far edge of the ocean j horizon. Lish waved good-bye to the last of her legitimate customers, two kelpie hunters returning to Avelar with a load of cryocases, and paused to enjoy the view out the back loading bay. The humid breeze bore the coolness of early evening, and she savored it on her sweat-damp face while smartmechs packed up shop for the night.
Reva would be by soon; the pair would freshen up and go out for dinner, and Lish had agreed to give one of the holodens a try afterward. There would be no sensie-feelie entertainment, with its hallucinogenic drugs, she was promised: just good solid external illusion to fill a few leisure hours.
She was debating what pheromones to wear when a mech interrupted her musings.
"Lish, a customer wishes—" it began, then the customer's own booming voice overrode the deferent machine.
"You are Lish?"
She turned to face the visitor, and looked up, and up, into the leathery red and black mottled visage of an alien. A minimal bodysuit revealed lanky muscles on arms and legs of the same oddly marked flesh as his face. Piercing yellow eyes stared unblinking from a countenance of harsh planes and angles. His intensity was unsettling.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, hiding behind the cool facade of a disinterested businesswoman.
"I need to discuss the hex-pack special."
Though it was a little late for that kind of trade, it was what really paid the bills. "Sure," the Holdout said. "Let's step into the office."
She motioned the alien toward the door and accompanied him. They were soon inside and Lish sat behind her desk. Her customer shut the door behind them, then came to stand before her. She pointed to a chair; the alien ignored her and remained standing, straddle-legged, his arms crossed upon his chest. "My name is Yavobo," he declared, "and I will ask you this only once. Do you sell time patches?"
A sudden fear gripped Lish's heart. This was not how clients approached a Holdout when they had to dicker over price and delivery arrangements. She could bet this fellow didn't want anything she had to sell.
"Are you
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