There was something about the way she took her next breath. Nothing obvious, but still noticeable. “Maybe,” she said.
“What do you mean, maybe?” I asked, frowning. “It’s their train system, isn’t it? Why can’t they classify someone as persona non grata and refuse to stop at their stations?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe they can. I just don’t know.”
I studied her face, trying to read past that neutral expression. On everything else, she seemed so certain about what the Spiders could or couldn’t or would or wouldn’t do. Now, suddenly, she wasn’t sure if they could shut down a few Quadrail stations?
Because if the Spiders couldn’t do that, maybe they weren’t the ones in charge of the system after all. And that was not something I wanted to hear right now. “Well, however they want to deal with it is their problem,” I said. Even to my own ears it sounded pretty lame. “Our job is just to figure out the who and where.” I yawned. “And it’s probably time we got a little rest.”
“Yes,” she said, taking another sip of her lemonade and getting to her feet. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell the Spiders about… you know.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing up as well. Actually, I didn’t much care whether or not the Spiders heard about my crisis of confidence. My main reason for having this conversation somewhere other than in my compartment was to see if there would be any obvious fuss on the Spiders’ part when I moved out of range of their little Saarix booby trap.
But there hadn’t been any such reaction, or at least none I’d been able to see, which left me basically where I’d started. Maybe all the fuss would happen later.
Still, the conversation had given me at least a partial handle on Bayta. That was worth something.
And at the very least, the iced tea had been good.
FIVE:
Eight hours later, right on schedule, we pulled into Yandro Station.
I had set the compartment’s display window to show a dit rec of travel through the Swiss Alps, mostly because west-central EuroUnion trains and this kind of intrigue just seemed to go together. Now, as we angled downward from the main Tube into the station, I shut down the dit rec and turned the window transparent.
All the Quadrail stations I’d ever been to had looked pretty much alike, all of them variations on the same basic theme. Yandro’s was no exception, the variation in this case being the number and distribution of the support buildings. Only two of the thirty tracks spaced around the cylinder carried trains that actually stopped here, all others merely passing through on their way to more important places. Ergo, only two of the tracks had passenger stations and cargo loading cranes built alongside them.
Considering the minuscule level of traffic involved, even that was overkill. I found the old frustrations rising again like stomach acid as we pulled to a halt and I saw there were only six passengers waiting to board. At a trillion dollars to put in the station, Yandro’s colonists were going to have to sell a hell of a lot of fancy lumber to ever earn back that investment.
At the far edge of my view, I saw Bayta striding across the platform toward one of the two maintenance buildings, trying not to look too much like she was hurrying. She disappeared inside and I checked my watch, hoping she was doing the same. A fifteen-minute stop wasn’t very long, and for all their professed willingness to cooperate I doubted the Spiders would go so far as to make the train late for us.
Bayta apparently didn’t have any illusions in that regard, either. She emerged from the building with ninety seconds to go and crossed the platform in a sprint that would have done an Olympic runner proud. Even then, I wasn’t sure she’d actually made it aboard until she arrived at my compartment two minutes later, still breathing a little heavily. “All set,” she said as she dropped onto the curve couch. “The stationmaster will pass on the request. The data should be ready by the time we reach Kerfsis. It’ll be delivered to our compartment on the next train we take.”
“Good,” I said, checking my watch, now set to our particular Quadrail’s internal time. It was just after ten in the evening of the Spiders’ standard twenty-nine-hour day, with nine more hours to Kerfsis Station. Enough time for a good night’s sleep plus breakfast before we arrived.
I was just wondering if I should go to the bar first for a quick nightcap when the door chime sounded.
I looked at Bayta. “You expecting someone?” I asked in a low voice.
She shook her head, the comers of her mouth suddenly tight. “It’s not a Spider,” she said.
The chime came again. I thought about sending Bayta back to her own compartment, decided there wasn’t enough time to unfold the wall without the delay looking suspicious. “Washroom,” I ordered her, standing up and crossing to the door. I waited until she had disappeared into the cubicle, then touched the release.
It was a pair of Halkas: flat-faced, vaguely bulldoglike beings who could talk a man’s leg off at twenty paces and had a passion for Earth-grown cinnamon. “Whoa,” the shorter of them announced, his breath thick with the distinctive burnt-acetate smell of their species’ favored intoxicant. “This isn’t Skvi. It’s a Human.”
“I believe you’re right,” the taller one agreed, leaning forward and squinting as if having trouble focusing on me. “Interesting snouts on this species.”
“Can I help you?” I asked, stepping into the doorway just in case they had it in mind to come in without waiting to be asked.
The shorter one waved a hand, his hollow double-reed claw sheaths whistling like a distant oboe with the gesture. “We seek a friend,” he said. “A fellow Halka. Our apologies for the disturbance.”
“No problem,” I said, smiling genially as I gave his eyes a quick but careful look. “I hope you find him.”
“If he is here, then we shall,” he intoned solemnly, pulling his lips back in a smile which made his face look even flatter. Taking his companion’s arm, he turned and continued unsteadily down the corridor, tapping his claws rhythmically against the side wall as if trying to make sure it didn’t get away from him.
I stepped back into the compartment and touched the control. The door started to close; and as it did so, I quickly leaned my head back out again.
The two Halkas were still walking away from me. But there was no longer any sign of staggering or wall-tapping. Just as there hadn’t been the pupil dilation of a real Halkan high.
Fake drunks. And by inference, a fake errand.
I pulled my head back again before the door could close far enough for the automatic safeties to kick in, letting it slide shut in front of me. “Who was it?” Bayta asked, coming out of the washroom.
“A couple of Halkas looking for a friend,” I told her as I snagged my jacket from the clothes rack. “You didn’t happen to notice anyone following you when you got back onto the Quadrail just now, did you?”
Her forehead creased. “I don’t know—I wasn’t really watching. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said as I punched the door release. “Don’t wait up.”
The two Halkas were already out of sight, having either passed through the car’s rear door or else gone into one of the other first-class compartments along the way. Not especially feeling like ringing door chimes at this hour, I continued to the end of the car and pushed the release. The door slid open, and I crossed the swaying vestibule into the first-class coach car beyond.
Late evening it might be by the Spiders’ clocks, but you wouldn’t have known it from the activity level. The card games were still going strong, several of the chairs having been repositioned as old conversation circles had broken up and new ones formed. The overhead lighting had been dimmed to a soft nighttime glow, but with each seat sporting its own reading light the only difference was that the brightness started at chest height instead of up at the ceiling. A few of the passengers were dozing in their seats, sonic neutralizers built into their headrests suppressing the commotion around them.