“The bus is a ground transport, I presume?” Losutu asked.
“Yes,” I said. “They don’t want even Shorshic thrusters coming too close to the formations.”
Losutu grunted. “Fine. We’ll see if Applegate can work his diplomatic magic and can get us permission to land you nearby.”
“Good,” I said. “The next question is how much use I’ll actually be to you. Starfighters are hardly my area of expertise.”
“Cards on the table, Mr. Compton,” Losutu said. “Your technical expertise or lack of it is irrelevant. All I need from you is an endorsement that would help sell this plan to the Western Alliance.”
“I understand,” I said evenly. I’d been fairly repulsed by the whole cynical scheme when Applegate had first suggested it, and it didn’t sound any better coming from Losutu. But at least he was being honest about it. “Let me look at the fighters and I’ll let you know.”
For a moment Losutu studied my face. Then his lip quirked microscopically, and he nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll expect you at the lodge’s main entrance tomorrow morning at ten.”
The toboggan tunnel work schedule I’d pulled from the hotel computer just before coming to dinner had indicated the crew was due on site at seven. That should give me plenty of time. “I’ll be there,” I promised.
“Good,” Losutu said, leaning back in his seat and gesturing to the menu. “Then while we eat you can tell us all about this new travel job of yours.”
“Certainly,” I said, shifting my brain into liar mode. It was becoming an increasingly easy transition for me to make. “I was approached about three months ago.…”
The evening turned out to be considerably more pleasant than I’d expected, despite the fact that I didn’t particularly like or trust either of my dinner companions. Losutu could be rather charming when he chose, in a cold-fish sort of way, and Applegate had apparently decided to abandon the comrades-in-arms approach he’d tried on the Quadrail and let Losutu do most of the talking.
We had a long and leisurely dinner, the full traditional Halkan five courses plus the knotting of wish sticks at the end. Once I’d finished my travel-agent story the conversation turned to Losutu’s dealings with the rest of the galaxy on the Confederation’s behalf, a monologue heavy on amusing stories and light on useful information.
As promised, Applegate picked up the tab on the UN’s behalf, and I was making my farewells when Losutu suggested we go see a show. For no particular reason I said yes, and we headed up to the theater section nestled just beneath the ice. The show he chose was a Cimman production, but it had been written broadly enough to be at least marginally accessible to other species. I’d always thought of Cimman drama as a cross between Japanese Kabuki theater and English Reformation comedy, and this one in particular seemed to hit just the right notes. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and by the time it was over I was feeling more relaxed than I’d been since I’d walked down the steps at the New Pallas Towers that dark evening seventeen days ago. Leaving Losutu and Applegate at the elevator bank—they were going to the theater lounge to hammer out final details for the morning’s inspection tour—I got into one of the elevators and punched for my floor.
At least, I thought I’d punched for it. But when the doors slid open, I found myself gazing instead down into the casino.
My first impulse was to stay in the car and simply make sure I hit the right button this time. But between the background hum of conversation, the clicking of the dice and chips and chinko tiles, and the effervescent sparkle of the waterfall, I found myself instead stepping out of the elevator and walking down the ramp to the main floor. No matter how quickly Bayta had gotten her message off she couldn’t possibly have gotten an answer yet, so there really wasn’t any need for me to hurry back to the suite. Besides, a little judicious eavesdropping might sift out a useful nugget or two.
I spent some time wandering the casino, watching the games and keeping my ears open. Again, though, all the conversations seemed to center on fluff and trivialities. I made a complete circle of the floor, shifted to a sort of lopsided figure eight, then finally went with a straight inward vector.
And so within a few minutes of my arrival, I found myself standing by the central fountain.
I gazed down into the pool, watching how the lapping water gently surging around the coral caught the casino’s lights, adding an extra sparkle to the subtle color display. It really was an intriguing substance, I had to admit, and in this light it didn’t look nearly as scratchy as Earth coral. Earlier, I’d agreed with Applegate’s curt dismissal of its unfriendly texture; but as I stood here now, I wondered if perhaps I’d been overly hasty. Everyone else seemed to think it was no big deal to pet this stuff. What if they were right?
Besides, even if they weren’t, what was the big deal? At worst, I’d get a scratch or two. At best, I’d be able to go to Bayta and tell her what a rewarding experience it had been—
I frowned, my train of rationalization braking to a sudden halt. Bayta, who had gazed into my eyes with a face more filled with concern than any of my superiors at Westali had ever shown, and had begged me to promise I would never touch Modhran coral.
And I’d looked back into that face, and made a little joke, and said yes.
It was ridiculous, of course. Bayta was a casual companion, thrown at me without invitation on a job I’d essentially been press-ganged into doing. She was also a liar, at least by omission, with a private agenda that may or may not have my own best interests at heart. And it wasn’t as if I’d sworn a solemn oath on a multitranslation Bible or anything.
Which was, a small corner of my mind noted, more rationalization.
I didn’t need to rationalize. I was a big boy, and I could do what I wanted. And I didn’t need to care about anyone’s opinion, especially Bayta’s.
So why was I spending all this effort to talk myself into this?
I focused my eyes on the coral in front of me… and it was only then that I discovered that my hand was already stretched out over the pool and starting down toward the sloshing water.
I snatched the hand back, feeling sweat suddenly breaking out on my face. What the hell was going on here? I took a long step away from the pool, looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t going to back into anyone.
I froze. All around me, everywhere I could see, the casino patrons had paused in their games and their conversations.
And they were all watching me.
The tableau lasted only a fraction of a second before they turned away again, casually resuming their activities as if it had all been a giant coincidence, that they’d all merely happened to be looking in the same direction at the same moment. But I knew better.
Earlier, I’d wondered whether Bayta and I might have stumbled into the middle of some strange conspiracy. Now I knew that we had.
I headed straight for the exit ramp, senses alert, face set into a combat mask that dared anyone to try to stop me. Fortunately for them, no one did. I reached the elevators and punched the call button, and a few seconds later was on my way down to our suite.
I arrived to find Bayta slouched low into one of the couches, gazing dully at some unfamiliar dit rec. She looked up as I came in, a flicker of relief crossing her face. “There you are,” she said, her tone a subtle mixture of petulance, concern, and relief. “I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry,” I said, keeping my voice casual as my watch tingled the news that the hidden microphones were still on duty. “Losutu insisted on dragging me to one of the shows afterwards.” I gestured toward the bedroom. “Going to be a busy day tomorrow. We’d better get to bed.”
She twitched, her eyes widening a little. Up to now, we’d never even slept in the same room, let alone together in the same bed. “To—?”