saying I didn’t have the foggiest idea. “Once you’ve got that in the works, see how fast you can get us moving after her.”
Bayta’s eyes defocused. “There’s a local leaving in forty minutes, or an express leaving in two hours. Both of them stop at both Homshil and Jurskala.”
“Let’s try for the express,” I told her. “Three first-class seats.”
“You don’t want a double compartment for us?”
“Homshil’s less than a day away by express,” I reminded her. “Hardly seems worth tying up two compartments for.”
“I’d rather we had compartments.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “By the way, Mr. Künstler didn’t exactly say he trusted you,” she said. “He said ‘he hates you.’”
“Which is something we should probably avoid mentioning to Morse,” I warned. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s the only one around who makes no bones about the fact that he hates me.”
Bayta glanced over her shoulder. “You have any idea why?”
“I wish I did,” I said. “Maybe I was part of some Westali operation that stepped on ESS toes.”
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t it. Morse’s antagonism was way more personal than just misplaced professional rivalry.
Maybe there was a way to find out. “Can you get the Spiders to encode a message and send it to Earth?” I asked Bayta.
“If it’s simple enough,” Bayta said. “They’d prefer you to go to the message center and do it yourself.”
“I’d rather not be seen at the message center right now,” I told her. “Too many people might notice and wonder who I’m writing notes to. I just want a simple message sent to Losutu: ‘Verify Ackerley Morse’s bona fides—reply via Spiders.’ Sign my name and send it.”
“I suppose they can do that,” Bayta said, a little doubtfully.
There was the sound of footsteps behind us, and I turned to see Morse hurrying down the corridor. “No need to rush,” I called. “We’ve got your seat.”
His expression darkened. “I told you not to do that,” he growled. “You’re not coming with me.”
“No, you’re coming with us ,” I clarified for him. “At least, if you want to catch up with Penny Auslander before she gets to Ian-apof.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re getting her pulled off the train at either Homshil or Jurskala.” I told him. “Our train—”
“You’re getting her pulled off?”
“Our train leaves in two hours,” I went on, ignoring the question. “That gives us all time to get something to eat and compare notes a little.”
For another few seconds Morse continued to eye me. Then, his lip twitched. “You’ve already seen most of my notes,” he said. “And I don’t especially care about yours. You really booked me a seat?”
“The ticket can be picked up at the stationmaster’s office,” Bayta said.
“You’re not on this case,” Morse warned. “This is official EuroUnion business, and you aren’t involved in any way, shape, or form. Make very sure you understand that.”
“We’re just on the way to meet up with a friend,” I said, stifling a sigh. There was something about Morse’s attitude that was just plain tiring. “We just happen to be traveling on the same train as you, that’s all.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Imagine that,” he said in mock surprise. “Frank Compton actually has a friend.”
With that, he brushed past me and strode through the lobby to the exit. A moment later, he was gone.
I turned back to find Bayta gazing at me, a look of compassion on her face. “What?” I demanded. I didn’t need friends, I certainly didn’t need Morse, and the last thing I wanted right now was sympathy.
Fortunately for her. she got the message. “Nothing,” she said, her expression going back to its usual neutral.
“Good,” I growled. “The stationmaster get that message encoded?”
“It’ll go out on the next scheduled
Bayta’s eyes defocused. “There’s a local leaving in forty minutes, or an express leaving in two hours. Both of them stop at both Homshil and Jurskala.”
“Let’s try for the express,” I told her. “Three first-class seats.”
“You don’t want a double compartment for us?”
“Homshil’s less than a day away by express,” I reminded her. “Hardly seems worth tying up two compartments for.”
“I’d rather we had compartments.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “By the way, Mr. Künstler didn’t exactly say he trusted you,” she said. “He said ‘he hates you.’”
“Which is something we should probably avoid mentioning to Morse,” I warned. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s the only one around who makes no bones about the fact that he hates me.”
Bayta glanced over her shoulder. “You have any idea why?”
“I wish I did,” I said. “Maybe I was part of some Westali operation that stepped on ESS toes.”
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t it. Morse’s antagonism was way more personal than just misplaced professional rivalry.
Maybe there was a way to find out. “Can you get the Spiders to encode a message and send it to Earth?” I asked Bayta.
“If it’s simple enough,” Bayta said. “They’d prefer you to go to the message center and do it yourself.”
“I’d rather not be seen at the message center right now,” I told her. “Too many people might notice and wonder who I’m writing notes to. I just want a simple message sent to Losutu: ‘Verify Ackerley Morse’s bona fides—reply via Spiders.’ Sign my name and send it.”
“I suppose they can do that,” Bayta said, a little doubtfully.
There was the sound of footsteps behind us, and I turned to see Morse hurrying down the corridor. “No need to rush,” I called. “We’ve got your seat.”
His expression darkened. “I told you not to do that,” he growled. “You’re not coming with me.”
“No, you’re coming with us ,” I clarified for him. “At least, if you want to catch up with Penny Auslander before she gets to Ian-apof.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re getting her pulled off the train at either Homshil or Jurskala.” I told him. “Our train—”
“You’re getting her pulled off?”
“Our train leaves in two hours,” I went on, ignoring the question. “That gives us all time to get something to eat and compare notes a little.”
For another few seconds Morse continued to eye me. Then, his lip twitched. “You’ve already seen most of my notes,” he said. “And I don’t especially care about yours. You really booked me a seat?”
“The ticket can be picked up at the stationmaster’s office,” Bayta said.
“You’re not on this case,” Morse warned. “This is official EuroUnion business, and you aren’t involved in any way, shape, or form. Make very sure you understand that.”
“We’re just on the way to meet up with a friend,” I said, stifling a sigh. There was something about Morse’s attitude that was just plain tiring. “We just happen to be traveling on the same train as you, that’s all.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Imagine that,” he said in mock surprise. “Frank Compton actually has a friend.”
With that, he brushed past me and strode through the lobby to the exit. A moment later, he was gone.
I turned back to find Bayta gazing at me, a look of compassion on her face. “What?” I demanded. I didn’t need friends, I certainly didn’t need Morse, and the last thing I wanted right now was sympathy.
Fortunately for her. she got the message. “Nothing,” she said, her expression going back to its usual neutral.
“Good,” I growled. “The stationmaster get that message encoded?”
“It’ll go out on the next scheduled
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