Part 2 (2/2)

He was used to curving walls; all MPL stars.h.i.+ps had them. In _Zipper_ he was as much at home as a nesting bird. But the long Net corridors curved before and behind him, endless as a treadmill. Sometimes they met. He felt as if geometry had somehow been abrogated, as if the great silver structure existed in another dimension, as if he were walking inside a hollow Moebius strip.

He glanced at the crew members beside him, wondering where they were taking him. They had met him at the shuttles.h.i.+p loading port. ”Starcaptain Ikoro?” the woman said.

”That's me,” he agreed.

”Will you follow us, please? Your presence is requested aboard the Yago Net.”

He could, he supposed, have refused. But their manner, so imperious, made him hesitate, and the errand they had come on made him curious. They had put him on a private shuttle and brought him to the Net. At the lock of the silver wheel they had pa.s.sed prisoners, waiting for the shuttles.h.i.+ps which would carry them to Port. None of them looked at him. They were dressed alike, in blue coveralls.

Even their expressions seemed the same, as if the Net, or the dorazine, had leached away their individuality and replaced it with -- he didn't know what.

He was cold. He rubbed his arms, wondering where the h.e.l.l he was being led to. He was sure it would do no good to ask his escorts. The corridor gave no clues: it was featureless, lined with red, blue, green, and yellow doors. The crew member ahead of him stopped. Dana nearly b.u.mped into him; embarra.s.sed, he caught himself in mid-step. A blue door slid aside. ”Go in,” said the crewman.

As he stepped through, Dana heard the door hiss behind him. He looked swiftly around for another exit -- and his attention was riveted by the presence of the largest Hyper he'd ever seen.

She was much taller than he, and ma.s.sively boned, but she was all in proportion -- as a mountain is in proportion to itself. She seated herself at a table, and gestured for him to do the same. Her joints appeared to move on steel bearings. Dana had seen Skellians before, but never this close. It was rare to find them in s.p.a.ce. They worked Port cities all over the Living Worlds, but almost never trained as Hypers: frequent exposure to null-grav weakened them. It drove the calcium from their bones, turning them brittle.

This woman seemed unaged, or ageless. ”My name is Jehosophat Leiakanawa,”

she said. Her voice was melodic and deep. ”I am second-in-command of the Yago Net. You, I know, are Starcaptain Dana Ikoro.” She pressed controls in the tabletop, and a pitcher and gla.s.ses rose from a hidden compartment. ”It was gracious of you to agree to interrupt your flight to Abanat. Please accept the Net's thanks for your help.”

She spoke as formally as a Federation diplomat. Dana said, deliberately ingracious, ”It doesn't matter. There are always shuttles.h.i.+ps.”

”Of course,” she agreed. ”And you're not in a hurry.” She had the Hyper skill at making questions sound like statements. ”The Auction is three weeks away. The hotels are very crowded; I hope you have friends in Abanat.”

”I'll manage,” Dana said shortly. All this courtesy was beginning to frighten him. The palms of his hands started to sweat.

What was he doing on this -- this jail? Despite the filtered air, he could smell the characteristic prison scent, made of equal parts of boredom, hopelessness, and fear. ”How may I help the Yago Net, Commander?”

”Navigator,” Leiakanawa corrected. ”The commander abroad this s.h.i.+p is Zed Yago.” She laid ma.s.sive forearms on the table. ”This is embarra.s.sing.” She did not sound the least embarra.s.sed. ”You said, at Port, you are a tourist, Starcaptain. But your activities -- let's say, your reputation -- in other sectors has preceded you to Chabad.”

That d.a.m.ned son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h inspector, Dana thought.

”Let me say, it would surprise no one on Chabad if, while you are in Abanat, you decide to mix business with your pleasure.”

I hope to, Dana thought. ”Navigator, I plan to watch the Auction,” he said.

”Of course,” she said approvingly. ”Everyone on Chabad goes to the Auction.” She leaned back a little in the chair. It groaned. ”Let me come to the point.”

Do, Dana thought.

”You are known to our Port police as a drug runner, Starcaptain. I am prepared to pay for any information that you can give me about the current state of the drug market.”

Dana's heart made a funny little jump in his chest. His mouth grew dry.

He pulled the pitcher to him, poured himself a gla.s.s of the clear liquid in it, and drank. It was cold water, as he had hoped.

”Is this conversation being recorded?” he said.

”Of course,” the Skellian said. ”But you are in no danger, Starcaptain.

There are no Hype cops on the Net.”

Dana nodded. He wanted to help; the trouble was, he didn't know very much. ”Who wants this information, really?” he said.

”Family Yago.”

Dana wondered what they wanted to know. ”What are they prepared to pay me?” he said. It was always a sensible question.

”Five hundred credits,” Leiakanawa said promptly.

Five hundred credits would repay him for what he'd spent on that d.a.m.n cooling unit, at least. Dana licked his lips. d.a.m.n, his mouth was dry. He drank more water, wis.h.i.+ng Tori Lamonica were sitting here in his place. ”Suppose I say I don't want to talk to you?” he said.

Leiakanawa folded her hands in her lap. She reminded Dana of Terran bears he'd seen in a zoo on Pellin: possessed even in repose of a fluid and terrifying strength. ”It's not wise to offend Family Yago,” she said.

Dana knew very little about Family Yago. Four Families ran Chabad: the Yago Family was one of them. But they ran the Auction; they owned the Net. They bought dorazine.

It wouldn't do to seem too eager to talk.

”Six hundred credits,” he suggested.

”Is your information worth that much?” she said dryly.

”In the business I'm in, it's bad practice to be buyable.”

”So you want to set a high price. All right. Six hundred credits.”

Dana said, ”I'm going to Chabad to pick up a s.h.i.+pment of nightshade.”

”I need to know your buyer's name and the name of your contact in Abanat.”

”You don't need to know my buyer's name. My buyer isn't even in Sector Sardonyx. I don't know my contact's name. I've never met him. I'm supposed to meet him in a bar. A friend of mine -- I won't say who -- gave me a set of recognition signals that he always uses.” He went on interlacing nonsense with truth about a run he'd made in Sector Cinnabar half a year ago. ”How the h.e.l.l do I know this'll stay private?” he said suddenly.

”Why shouldn't it?” said Leiakanawa.

”Listen, I know it's all going down on tape, every word I'm saying. How do I know you won't just sell me to the cops?”

”You forget,” said Leiakanawa, ”our offer of money for information makes the Net an accessory to everything you're saying.” ”Well, I don't know.” He clasped and unclasped his hands, pretending nervousness. It was only part pretense. It's this d.a.m.n s.h.i.+p, he thought. Built like a metal sausage.

The door opened without warning. A man walked in. Leiakanawa, who had started to say something soothing, fell instantly silent. The man moved like a Hyper, all grace and strut. He was lean, not very tall, with russet hair held in a silver clip at the back of his head. He had tremendous, top-heavy, muscular shoulders, and striking, amber eyes. He said, ”Starcaptain, you missed your vocation. You should have been an actor.”

Dana stared at him blankly, held the stare, and then decided to get angry. Theatrically he clenched his fists, pushed the chair back, and stood. He was slightly taller than the other man. ”Are you calling me a liar?”

”Yes,” said the intruder. ”Verdian nightshade comes from a plant that can't be grown on Chabad, Starcaptain. You aren't buying it here. There's a cooling unit for dorazine sitting in your s.h.i.+p.”

”I was getting to that -- ”

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