Besides, he'd learned early in life who was safe to cross and who wasn't. Dyson, it depended on the circumstances, but basically he was a lightweight. But Clal va Riguez… that was a dangerous man.
I better put a message in the pipe, he thought unhappily. That way I'm covered. If it was important, Clal, or one of his associates would get back to him. If he heard nothing, Then I'll assume no action is called for.
The Chadragupta Rao's hull gave a shudder as the dockside connectors went home and Rohan's gravity took over. Metal and composites crackled and sighed in reaction as weight and pressure altered. Fresher air poured in; the Rao had problems with life-support, redline maintenance no Company ship or chartered freelancer would tolerate.
Bros Sperin stood easily on her command deck, adjusting to the lighter gravity with automatic ease, equally easy with the hostile glare of the Rao's Captain. For that matter, the only eyes on the wedge-shaped deck that weren't hostile were the four Sondee orbs right behind him. They were probably bright and shiny…
"Far as I'm concerned, Sperin, you cease to exist when you walk off my deck. You got that?"
The spacer was a pale, flaccid little man. He smelled like a locker full of sweaty clothes. But then, so did his whole ship. The bridge went darker as screens powered-down, only the monitors and standby readouts still active.
Bros nodded, his eyes cool. The little needler in his cuff was ready, but he didn't think he'd need it.
"All debts are paid," he said evenly. "And in the event that you find it necessary to alert the Family to my presence…"
The little man stiffened.
"You can tell them I'm here to find a friend in trouble. It's a personal thing."
The spacer's pale brow furrowed in confusion.
"But of course," Bros said gently, "I'd be very disappointed if you did tell them I'm here."
The spacer jerked his head in a negative. "All debts are paid," he said sourly.
They were in the shadowy reaches where organized crime brushed and merged with the fringes of Intelligence work. It was the only way to keep things functioning at all-the old lex talonis, eye for an eye.
"Thanks," Bros said with a smile and a slap on the back that staggered the little spacer. "I knew I could count on you."
He hefted his duffel to his shoulder and walked out, deck gratings ringing under his magnetic boots, each stride a little sticky. Seg!T'sel trotted after him.
"I still say we should be disguised," he whispered.
Bros smiled for the monitors and put an arm around the alien's bony shoulders; they felt warm under his hand, hotter than a human metabolism, and the pattern of bones was more like a lattice than a framework.
"Think of it this way, Seg," he said, between clenched teeth-natural, and it also activated his scrambler. That was a system sophisticated enough to feed a false conversation to the audio pickups. "How many Sondee do you see around here?"
They were out of the docking bay and into a concourse, full of crowds skipping on and off slideways or calling for little robotic shuttlecars, heavy with the scent of ozone. Most of the crowd were humans of various types, the odd Ursinoid, a scattering of other species…
"One or two," Seg said.
"And how many of them are wearing eyepatches, or wigs, or walking with canes?"
Seg opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. The bony plates within went tok.
"Nine humans out of ten can't tell one Sondee from another, unless there's something unusual about the Sondee. On your homeworld, you get seen as you. Here you get seen as a Sondee. Grasp the principle?"
A wordless grunt. "But you should be wearing a disguise."
Damned if I'm going to wear a rubber nose, either, Bros thought. He shrugged. "Disguises are more trouble than they're worth unless you absolutely need one."
"But they'll recognize you."
"Who is they?" Bros asked.
"Well," Seg temporized, "who are we looking for?"
"At the moment, Joat Simeon-Hap. Ultimately, the Kolnari. Joat's on our side… mostly, so we want her to recognize me. The Kolnari will kill you whoever you look like. But the Family will want to know what you're trying to hide. So they'll take you aside and ask you questions until they're satisfied. And Seg… they're very hard to satisfy. So our best disguise is to look like ordinary spacers."
Seg nodded solemnly, and then nearly fell flat as they stepped onto a slideway. Bros clenched his teeth again and put a hand under the Sondee's not-quite-an-elbow.
They'd left the docking area behind. The tunnels and arcades beneath the crater floor engulfed them, two more anonymous spacers in worn coveralls, carrying the record of their lives in their duffels through the jostling crowds. They passed innumerable cheap hostels burrowed back into the rock, CHEAP ROOMS and CLEAN BEDS blinking in holographic colors outside their barred doors. The drab hostels gave way to chandlers' offices, advertising electronics, software, graving docks, power systems.
"It's not quite what I imagined a pirate haven would be like," Seg whispered.
"Piracy's a business," Bros said. "Ships are ships. They need fuel and parts and maintenance. A lot of other business goes through here, too-some of it even legitimate."
"But I thought it would be something more like-"
The slideway divided around a dropshaft. Bros took them off and into the open darkness. They drifted downward, and images played before their eyes.
"-any species, any combination for-"
It was hard for a member of another species to be shocked by human tastes in erotic entertainment, but Seg managed it. All four eyes bulged slightly, then blinked in unison, a disconcerting sight.
"-come one, come all, contestants welcome-"
This time the naked shapes were muscular and lithe, sheened with sweat and blood, long curved knives in their hands.
"-nothing too exotic at the Torture Pit-"
Bros closed his own eyes, wincing slightly. "This is the entertainment level," he said. "Want to stop and see the sights?"
"Ah… no."
"Good. Let's get some business done, then."
Seg cocked his ears at a cacophony of voices, human and alien, clashing music from various bars and an assortment of street sounds from air-scrubbers to ground cars.
"Still, what energy there is in that sound!" Seg exclaimed as they stepped out of the shaft into a more placid level. He turned to Bros his eyes shining. "I'm working on an opera in my spare time," he confessed.
What Sondee isn't? Sperin wondered.
"One day I will work this-" he gestured with both hands towards the street before them "-into my overture."
Sperin smiled and nodded. Not bad kid, Seg. And how I wish he wasn't here.
"We better get moving," he murmured in Seg's ear whorl. "We look like a couple of rubes standing here."
"I thought you said Rohan was fairly safe?" Seg protested.
"Safe is a relative term," Bros said. "If we were in a Sondee swamp, for example, we'd probably be safe from wild animals, since they're generally shy around people. But even there, smearing yourself all over with beef gravy might be considered putting too much temptation in their way. If you get my drift?"
Seg's ear whorls colored slightly and he nodded.
"Which way?" he asked.
"We'll check the bars along here," Bros said. "I've no idea where Joat might be, but my information is that her crew has a fondness for dockside bars."