Part 13 (2/2)

”I think we're all prepared for everything we might

encounter,” she said significantly.

”Good. At nineteen hundred, then?” He added a last comment that was so atypical, Cora had to re- a.s.sure herself that he had actually spoken. ”It will be a distinct pleasure to work with two such beautiful

ladies.”

The cafeteria-style dining area was separate from their quarters. Sam had to escort the three newcomers from their rooms. He and the two women waited in the small lobby for Merced, who arrived late, puffing slightly, tucking his net s.h.i.+rt into his shorts.

Cora wore a drape-weave that swirled around her body from right shoulder to left calf in alternating rows of fluorescent pink and yellow, dotted with deadcolor black flowers. Maybe everyone else on this world dressed informally when they ate together, but she still retained a number of civilized virtues. Be- sides, this would probably be the last time she would be able to dress decently before they got out into the

field.

Rachael had opted for a seemingly simpler summer

drape, in pale green. The simplicity was deceptive.

Several fish were inlaid in silver thread along the hem.

They breathed bubbles that appeared to flow up the dress. At certain wavelengths, depending on the il- lumination, the sizable bubbles were transparent. The motile peekaboo effect that resulted turned a number

of heads as they entered the mess.

One corner was deserted save for Hwos.h.i.+en. He wore the same stiff, utilitarian dark suit he had worn earlier in the day. Cora looked at his chest for the expected crimson insignia of a Commissioner. There

CACHALOT.

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wasn't one. His lack of pretentiousness is the most humanizing thing about him, she mused.

There was some small talk and some absolutely magnificent local food. Mataroreva had managed to slip quickly into the chair next to Cora. Merced and Rachael sat on the other side. Occasionally Merced would lean over and hesitantly whisper something to her and she would giggle. Then he would turn rapidly away, as if embarra.s.sed by his own temerity in talk- ing to her, and shovel his food.

The interchanges troubled Cora, but she was too busy talking with Hwos.h.i.+en to pay much attention.

Not that she could have done anything to prevent them.

”What would human agents have to gain by de- stroying the towns?” she asked. ”Surely you must have some suspects?”

”Were that only the case.” Hwos.h.i.+en caressed his tall drinking gla.s.s. ”Cachalot's oceans hold many riches. You saw a tiny sample of them today. Some small, independent operators would be happy to see their better-organized compet.i.tion obliterated.

”For example, there are the people of the s.h.i.+ps.

They live and work on old-fas.h.i.+oned ocean-going boats. Not suprafoils, but real s.h.i.+ps in the ancient floating sense. They own their vessels, unlike the peo- ple of the towns, who only lease their homes and equip- ment from the larger companies. They also refine some of their own produce right on board.

”The quant.i.ty is small, but it still cuts into the pro- fits of the large concerns by bypa.s.sing the expensive orbital factories. So there has always been dislike between the people of the s.h.i.+ps and the citizens who inhabit the floating towns.”

Cora speared a forkful of a delicate white meat, chewed as she spoke. ”Wouldn't they be easily dis- covered? Wouldn't a sudden rise in some s.h.i.+p's pro- duction be noticed?”

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