handing him my phone. “Give them a call, will you, and tell them to get back as soon as they can. I’ll make sure the refueling’s been finished and get the rest of the paperwork out of the way.”
“What can I do?” Everett asked.
You can tell me who out there has it in for this ship and its crew
, the suggestion ran through my mind. Butthere was no point springing something like that on him. Odds were he hadn’t the faintest idea anyway. “Go make sure your gear’s ready for liftoff,” I told him instead. “As soon as the rest get back, we’re out of here.”
CHAPTER
5
They straggled in over the next hour, Shawn and Nicabar clearly glad we were getting under way, Tera just as clearly annoyed that we’d cut short what had apparently been a successful shopping spree, at least judging from the number of bags she hauled aboard. Chort didn’t show any particular preference one way or the other.
With the ever-looming threat of hue and cry from the Port Authority over the deaths of my two assailants—and the associated threat that the port might be summarily shut down at any minute—I spent the entire time sweating as I fought upstream against bureaucratic inertia, trying to finish Jones’s death report and all the procedural preflight paperwork before the bodies were discovered.
To my surprise, we got cleared and headed out into space without any sign of official outrage or panic over the charred remains I’d left at the loading dock. Perhaps the spot the Lumpy Brothers had picked for my interrogation had been more private than it hadlooked. Either that, or someone had done a very efficient job of sweeping the whole incident under the rug.
I’d had short conversations with each of the crewers on the trip from Meima, but most of them had either concerned basic ship’s business or were just casual chat. But now, with everything that had happened since then, I decided it was time to skip past the surface and find out what exactly these people were made of. If someone was out to get us, I needed to know which ones I could trust not to buckle under pressure.
And so, as soon as we’d made our slice into hyperspace and were on our way, I left Ixil watching the bridge and headed aft.
The
Icarus
’s engine room was just like the rest of the ship, only more so. The same odd arrangement of equipment and control systems was repeated back there, as if Salvador Dali had been in charge of the layout. In addition, though, the general attempt elsewhere to keep the various cables and fluid conduits tucked out of the way in the gap between the inner and outer hulls had seemingly been abandoned here. They were everywhere: a bewildering, multicolored spaghetti tangle that brushed against sleeves and shins and occasionally threatened to clothesline the unwary traveler.
And buried away at his control console near the middle of the sculpted chaos was Revs Nicabar.
“Ah—McKell,” he greeted me as I successfully negotiated past a final pair of thick conduits leading to the large, shimmery Möbius strip that was the heart of the
Icarus
’s stardrive. “Welcome to Medusa’s Lair. Watch your head.”
“And arms, legs, and throat,” I added, pulling out a swivel stool from the side of his console and sitting down. “How’s it flying?”
“Amazingly well, actually,” he said. “Rather surprising, I know, considering that it looks like a refugee from a Doolian scrap heap. But whoever the designerwas, at least the builder had the sense to install some decent equipment.”
“It’s like that on the bridge, too,” I said. “Good equipment, odd placement. I’ll make you a small wager that it was a working spacer who designed it, not some so-called expert. Tell me, did you have any problems out in the port back there?”
His eyes narrowed, just a bit, and I saw his gaze flick to the side of my head where the plasmic near miss had slightly singed my hair. I didn’t think the marks showed; possibly I was wrong.
“What can I do?” Everett asked.
You can tell me who out there has it in for this ship and its crew
, the suggestion ran through my mind. Butthere was no point springing something like that on him. Odds were he hadn’t the faintest idea anyway. “Go make sure your gear’s ready for liftoff,” I told him instead. “As soon as the rest get back, we’re out of here.”
CHAPTER
5
They straggled in over the next hour, Shawn and Nicabar clearly glad we were getting under way, Tera just as clearly annoyed that we’d cut short what had apparently been a successful shopping spree, at least judging from the number of bags she hauled aboard. Chort didn’t show any particular preference one way or the other.
With the ever-looming threat of hue and cry from the Port Authority over the deaths of my two assailants—and the associated threat that the port might be summarily shut down at any minute—I spent the entire time sweating as I fought upstream against bureaucratic inertia, trying to finish Jones’s death report and all the procedural preflight paperwork before the bodies were discovered.
To my surprise, we got cleared and headed out into space without any sign of official outrage or panic over the charred remains I’d left at the loading dock. Perhaps the spot the Lumpy Brothers had picked for my interrogation had been more private than it hadlooked. Either that, or someone had done a very efficient job of sweeping the whole incident under the rug.
I’d had short conversations with each of the crewers on the trip from Meima, but most of them had either concerned basic ship’s business or were just casual chat. But now, with everything that had happened since then, I decided it was time to skip past the surface and find out what exactly these people were made of. If someone was out to get us, I needed to know which ones I could trust not to buckle under pressure.
And so, as soon as we’d made our slice into hyperspace and were on our way, I left Ixil watching the bridge and headed aft.
The
Icarus
’s engine room was just like the rest of the ship, only more so. The same odd arrangement of equipment and control systems was repeated back there, as if Salvador Dali had been in charge of the layout. In addition, though, the general attempt elsewhere to keep the various cables and fluid conduits tucked out of the way in the gap between the inner and outer hulls had seemingly been abandoned here. They were everywhere: a bewildering, multicolored spaghetti tangle that brushed against sleeves and shins and occasionally threatened to clothesline the unwary traveler.
And buried away at his control console near the middle of the sculpted chaos was Revs Nicabar.
“Ah—McKell,” he greeted me as I successfully negotiated past a final pair of thick conduits leading to the large, shimmery Möbius strip that was the heart of the
Icarus
’s stardrive. “Welcome to Medusa’s Lair. Watch your head.”
“And arms, legs, and throat,” I added, pulling out a swivel stool from the side of his console and sitting down. “How’s it flying?”
“Amazingly well, actually,” he said. “Rather surprising, I know, considering that it looks like a refugee from a Doolian scrap heap. But whoever the designerwas, at least the builder had the sense to install some decent equipment.”
“It’s like that on the bridge, too,” I said. “Good equipment, odd placement. I’ll make you a small wager that it was a working spacer who designed it, not some so-called expert. Tell me, did you have any problems out in the port back there?”
His eyes narrowed, just a bit, and I saw his gaze flick to the side of my head where the plasmic near miss had slightly singed my hair. I didn’t think the marks showed; possibly I was wrong.
Similar Books
