“Legroeder,” McGinnis said grimly, resting his own hands on his hips. “Rigger Legroeder?”
Legroeder let his hand drop. “You’ve heard of me?”
Harriet forced a chuckle. “You’ve been in the news, Legroeder. I’m sure even out here, Mr. McGinnis has heard of your case.”
“Well,” McGinnis said. “I don’t pay a lot of attention. But I have heard of you.” He cocked his head. “They say you were responsible for handing over a ship to Golen Space pirates.”
Legroeder felt a flash of anger, but Harriet put a calming hand on his arm. “That is what I am accused of,” he said grudgingly.
McGinnis barked a laugh. “Well, I didn’t say I believed it, did I?” He stared out into the woods for a moment. “Did you all come out here to see me? If you did, it was a risky thing to do.”
“Apparently so,” Legroeder agreed.
McGinnis turned to Harriet. “And your name was—”
“Harriet Mahoney. I’m assisting Legroeder in trying to prove his innocence.” Harriet adjusted her glasses as she returned McGinnis’s gaze. Either she had recovered quickly from the trauma of the attack, or she was hiding it well. “We undertook this… visit… because we were hoping you could help us.”
“Is that so? And what gives you that hope?”
As McGinnis cocked his head, Legroeder observed that the man’s left eye was synthetic; then he realized that a good portion of the man’s face was synthetic. Legroeder’s glance did not go unnoticed, but McGinnis said nothing.
“I apologize if we were mistaken,” Harriet said. “But your name came up in some research we were doing. You are known as a collector of historical materials on the subject of rigging—particularly materials dating back a century or so. As it happens, we are very much in need of information from that period.”
“In order to prove Rigger Legroeder’s innocence?”
“Precisely.” Harriet patted her forehead with a handkerchief. “Mr. McGinnis, do you suppose that we could step out of the sun somewhere? I’m feeling rather faint, after that close call we just had.”
McGinnis grunted, not answering. He bent to make a closer examination of the scorched side of the flyer. When he straightened up, he had a troubled look on his face. He again gazed up into the sky, as though struggling with some decision. And then, as quickly as the cloud had come over him, he relaxed. “Yes, of course. I’m being a poor host. You both must be shaken up. That was a very fine landing under the circumstances, Rigger Legroeder.”
“Thank you. Just Legroeder will be fine.”
“Legroeder, then,” said McGinnis. A smile worked at his lips. “I guess there’s someone out there who doesn’t like you much. Or maybe doesn’t like lawyers,” he added with a glance at Harriet.
Harriet’s eyes gleamed. “Did I mention that I was a lawyer?”
McGinnis looked startled. Another shadow seemed to cross his brow. “Now that you mention it, I don’t recall. I—suppose I must have seen your name in the… news, too. Let’s go inside, shall we?”
As they walked to the house, he spoke to his dog. “Stay and watch out here, Rufus.” The retriever trotted to take up a position under a tree, and stood alertly as the humans made their way across the lawn to the side door.
“If your attackers come back, my security field should keep them out,” McGinnis said, leading them into his living room. The place looked like a converted hunting lodge. The living room breathed with space; it had an open-beam ceiling and wood-paneled walls. A ceremonial sword and several sidearms were mounted on the walls, along with half a dozen holos of military spacecraft.
“May I ask how you happened to have a forcefield around your house?” Legroeder said. “Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you.”
“You can ask.” McGinnis gestured toward a cluster of seats near a large stone fireplace. “Make yourselves comfortable while I fix something to drink.”
Legroeder sank into a seat near the fireplace. A crackling fire billowed up with a soft rush. Legroeder closed his eyes, forced himself to try to relax… to focus on the warmth of the fire, the smell of the wood smoke, the crackle of flames. His thoughts drifted inevitably to the weapons fire of attacking pirate ships, and missiles in the air—and he winced, opening his eyes. He twisted around in his chair.
Harriet had seated herself on a small sofa facing a broad wooden coffee table. Her compad was out. She beckoned to Legroeder, and he moved to the seat opposite her. When McGinnis returned, carrying a tray with three tall drinks, Harriet lowered her glasses on their chain. “Is there some way I could make a call from here? We need to order a replacement flyer, but my signal can’t seem to get past your forcefield.”
McGinnis rested the tray on the table. “Of course. I’ll see to it in a moment.” He passed out coasters and glasses. “I think you’ll like this. It’s an infusion made from the leaves of the nascacia tree.”
Legroeder held his glass up, peering through a reddish amber liquid and several ice cubes. He took a cautious sip, then another. The drink had a sharp tang, with a hint of sweetness. He nodded appreciatively.
McGinnis didn’t respond. He was standing with his eyes closed, concentrating. “Hmph,” he muttered, looking annoyed. Returning to the bar, he tapped at a control panel. “Try your transmission now,” he called.
Harriet touched her earring, then typed at the pad.
“Are you getting through?”
“I’m afraid not.”
McGinnis did some more fiddling, then returned to join them. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ve got my house system checking into it. It should let me know when it finds the problem.” He looked preoccupied as he took a seat at the end of the table. But rather than speaking of whatever was troubling him, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “All right, then—you’ve come a long way because you think I can help you. What is it you want? And why did someone want to shoot you out of the sky to keep you from getting it?”
Harriet cleared her throat. “What we want is information about an old rigger ship. As for why someone would kill us to keep us from talking to you… well, I was rather hoping you might be able to tell us.”
McGinnis inclined his head. “Really. What ship are you interested in?”
“If you’ve seen the news reports, you probably already know. The passenger liner Impris. The Flying Dutchman of Space.” Harriet paused, waiting for a reaction. McGinnis said nothing, but his eyes seemed to narrow. “Oddly enough,” Harriet continued, “we’ve found very little information about her in either the RiggerGuild library or the public library.”
“That is odd, isn’t it?” McGinnis said, in a gravelly tone that suggested he didn’t find it odd at all.
“But we heard—rumor, I guess you would have to say—that some of the original reports on the ship had been removed for safekeeping.” Harriet scrutinized McGinnis’s face. “Would you, by any chance, know anything about that?”
McGinnis’s eyes closed, and an expression of pain crossed his face, unmistakable even through the synthetic skin. For a few heartbeats, he seemed removed from their company, as if his thoughts were occupied far, far away. Legroeder watched him, wondering what inner struggle was going on in this man. And what did it have to do with them? He also wondered, suddenly, what augmentation McGinnis had beneath that synthetic skin. And was that augmentation one of the reasons McGinnis lived out here like a hermit?