If you have to ask, you can't afford it, Joat thought, and read aloud: "N. Ciety, Research and Development." She made a little moue. "I'd say he's a cynical man."
"I would say he is scum," Joseph said quietly. "He deals with the Kolnari."
Joat glanced at him in concern and then at Alvec. He met her eyes with the same concern she felt over Joseph's intensity. She grimaced. I'm one to talk.
"Joe," she said quietly. "Maybe you should wait outside."
He turned to glare at her. "You insult me, Joat. The fact that this criminal offends me does not mean that I am unable to deal with him. I would kiss the soles of his feet if it would give me the information I need to find Amos. Look to yourself, girl, and leave my behavior to me!"
Joat choked down the urge to apologize and opened the office door. Whoa! Is this the Uncle Joe who was always telling me to control my emotions? But then again, she was grown up now. He didn't need to put on the mask of infallibility with her anymore… which was both flattering and disturbing, when you thought about it.
The reception area was a very soothing room. The visible color scheme had been carefully chosen to please all of the species known to the Central Worlds. No doubt those who saw in the ultraviolet spectrum had been considered too, judging from the telltale signs in the paintings and fabrics in the room. In place of background music there was the sound of ocean surf. Again, a choice calculated not to offend any species, whether their oceans were methane or water. The furnishings looked expensive and inviting, if you liked the minimalist style-Joat herself had always thought desks and chair-seats looked better with legs beneath them, rather than floating in suspension-fields.
The human receptionist who greeted them was as polished as the decoration.
"Good morning," he said pleasantly. "How may I help you?"
"I'm Captain Joat Simeon-Hap, and we're here to deliver a consignment," Joat said. "For Silken."
"Ah." The young man raised a golden brow. "Please take a seat while I inform Ms. Silken that you've arrived. Would you care for some refreshment?"
"No thank you," Joat said.
Behind her Alvec and Joseph shook their heads. The three then retired to a furniture grouping for humanoids and sat down to wait silently. After a few carefully calculated moments the receptionist looked up with the distracted air of someone listening to an earphone.
"Captain Simeon-Hap, Mr. Ciety would like to meet you personally and has asked me to bring you and your party up to his suite. If you would follow me, please?"
He turned and started off towards an apparently blank wall, obviously confident that he would be followed.
Joat clenched her hands into fists to hide the fact that they were shaking as badly as her knees.
Get ahold of yourself! she thought fiercely. This is what had to happen. This is what you hoped would happen. Blood pounded in her ears.
The wall parted to reveal a lift and the golden-haired receptionist entered and turned to smile invitingly at them. Joat wondered if he was some especially pretty species of bodyguard. The lift accelerated smoothly; from the weight and time Joat guessed that they were several thousand meters up, into the living rock of the mountains that ringed the crater. When the doors opened, across from them was an ornate double door of some highly polished, satiny wood, each side featuring a plate-sized brass doorknob embossed with a single initial, N and C.
Tacky, Joat thought. But impressive. She had to admit that. The wood itself was expensive, that was obvious, but shipping it here must have cost a fortune, and not a small one. Uncle Nom had come up in the world, since he was a tramp-freighter skipper and fringe-world grifter.
Their guide crossed the corridor and knocked discreetly on the enormous doors. From within a resonant male voice called out "Come."
Joat licked her lips surreptitiously and wiped her palms on the legs of her shipsuit. Al and Joe were behind her, and the knowledge of their solid backing gave her strength.
The doors swept open. Joat gave a small incredulous gasp before she could stop herself. The walls were sheathed in a geometric design of polychrome marble; texture matched subtly with color, from craggy red to smoothly polished alabaster-white. The furnishings were rich beefleather and pale wood, austerely simple so as not to distract from the impact of the room itself.
Directly across from the door where they stood was an enormous fireplace, complete with blazing fire; cedar logs filled the air with their fragrance. Burning! she thought. Burning wood to generate heat! You'd expect that on a live planet-a barbarian planet. Here, it was barbaric in a completely different way.
Above it a display film in proportion to the fireplace offered a complex work of randomized holo art, swirling ceaselessly into almost recognizable patterns. The mantle was held up by carvings of humanoid figures.
Then, one of them moved.
Joat flinched, recognizing them then as low life bioconstructs, zombielike things also known as realities. Banned on every planet in Central Worlds, she thought in disgust. We're a long way from civilized space.
A man had risen from the couch before the fireplace to smile pleasantly at them. He gestured, urging them to enter. An attractive man, slender and of middling height. His longish, ash-blond hair was expensively cut in a style that knocked ten years off his age. His appraising eyes were a cool blue, set deep in a narrow, fine-boned face.
But his eyes passed over her briefly and on to her companions. He gestured again, perhaps with a touch of impatience and said:
"Come in! Don't be shy, I won't bite."
Obscurely disappointed, Joat looked down, carefully watching her feet descend the three shining marble stairs that led to the living area.
So much for "the ties that bind," she thought grimly. No recognition at all. Of course, she'd been a child. When he sold me.
Ciety reached out a hand for her to shake and she steeled herself to take it. Alvec accepted it too, but Joseph, bowing, kept his in the sleeves of his tunic:
"It is not our custom," he said smoothly.
Ciety continued smiling and bowed politely back, but something reptilian showed in his eyes.
Silken lay upon the white couch, dressed in an emerald satin dressing gown, sipping from a cut crystal goblet which she raised in salute to Joat.
"You've made it in good time, Captain," she said.
"No thanks to Central Worlds Customs," Joat answered. "They went through almost every minor treasure in my hold. I thought we'd never get rid of them."
Silken's gaze sharpened and she sat up abruptly.
"You have my jewels," she demanded, combining statement and threat.
Joat placed the travel bag on the low table; Silken ripped open the fastener and tumbled the laser component boxes onto the intaglio surface.
"Where's…?"
Then she opened one of the boxes.
"What the hell is this?" she snapped as she pulled out a dull red, irregularly shaped crystal.
"Dye from a red cargo marker," Joat explained calmly. "It'll wash off with a little elbow grease. The inspectors found three of these before their commander called them off."
Silken laughed in relief and caught Ciety's eye proudly, as though it had been her own idea.
"Why, you clever girl," she purred. "There, Mik, didn't I tell you she was sharp?"
"Yes you did," he agreed and stroked Silken's cheek with one finger. She rubbed her face against his hand like a cat.
Nomik took the jewel out of her hand and weighed it in his own. His eyes met Joat's.