Mainline (46 page)

Waterspeak wasn't a
sign language Vask was fluent in, but basic signals were easy to pick up. His current vocabulary consisted of the terms
yes, no, stop, wait, look,
and
back to base.
Though used in the waterless void of a shift state,
back to base
meant "get out of here and back into the physical."

Reva made the signal; the Mutate complied.

Forms resolved themselves until the soft glowing outlines of molecular structures faded and solid substance gelled in its place. Vask and Reva were sitting on the couch in the apartment, in a world suddenly full of gravity and hard-edged shapes.

"Damn it, Kastlin," the assassin breathed. "This isn't working."

Reva shot to her feet and began to pace. Vask exhaled loudly and threw himself back against the cushions. It was nearly more frustrating to work with the woman's impatience than with the obscurities of her psi talent.

"We were doing fine. What do you think isn't working?" he asked.

"Shit. I don't get your trick of going immaterial, and you don't get the timeshifting. Even though we can touch, over there. In there." She referred to the ghostly handclasp they had shared, like passing one's hand through an electrical field, the tingle of energy in flux noticeable even though immaterial skin should not carry such a sensation.

"That's good," Vask sighed. "Shows we aren't as out of synch as we look." To him Reva had appeared blurred, her form overlaid on itself in varying positions. To her, the Fixer seemed similarly fragmented, as all living creatures did when she rode the Lines. He was wraith-like, also, the product of his phase-shifting: an insubstantial figure hard to perceive. Yet if they could touch, or something like it, that meant they shared some kind of frequency in common—

"So what?" She interrupted his line of thought. "You can't sense what I'm doing. I don't see you in the Lines as a single figure, like I did in Rinoco Park—that would mean you're controlling your drift, that you have time-independent motion, like me. Your consciousness isn't coming separate from it all. Except for when I touch you."

"When I seem to become more solid, you mean."

"Less time-fragmented. Yes."

"Then in that moment, I
am
in synch with you!"

"You're not crossing Lines on your own. We touch, and I can take you, like dragging you in my wake. The Sea Father Effect." She laughed humorlessly. "But I still can't tell where the old Mainline is from here."

"Wait. Wait!" Vask clapped hands to his head, squinted eyes shut as a sudden inspiration struck. If she can tow me along, he thought, I don't need to switch Lines on my own. What I need to do is see where we're going, like a guide dog——and I think I know how to do that.

His eyes flicked open and he sat upright. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down."

Reva bit back a remark and did as he asked.

"Now. Do it again. And this time, hold my hand from the start."

She shook her head but followed his instructions.

"Now, when we go—don't stay here. Move as many Lines away as you're comfortable with, and then back again, slowly."

A moment later she shifted, moving her subjective Now to a neighboring Line, and then one that branched off from that, then one more.

As before, Vask came along with her, not through his own doing. But this time, he spotted the change that had niggled at him—the oh-so-subtle variation in radiant energy that he hadn't put a finger on before. When Reva moved Lines, the molecular radiance around them changed color.

This time it was his turn to signal '
'back to base.''

When they had returned to Realtime, the assassin looked at him curiously. "What is it? What did you see?"

He made calming motions with his hands as he marshaled his thoughts. Have to get this straight in my head before I say...

"Spill it, man. What did you see?"

He leaned forward excitedly. "When I sideslip," he said, "everything has a glow. Ambient light, radiating from molecular structures themselves. In the air, in objects around me. That color has always been gray, edging toward blue. Here it's green. And it changes when we move Lines!"

He squeezed her arm and sat back triumphantly, his explanation speaking volumes in his own ears. Reva struggled to follow what Vask was telling her. "So—Mainline has a particular radiance to it, a color, that you can see when shifted?"

Kastlin nodded, rubbing his hands in nervous excitement. "And this Line doesn't look the same as our original one."

"Why not?"

"Don't know. Maybe basal energy frequencies here are slightly different, a little upscale from where we were. It doesn't matter, Reva. All that matters is that this is as good as a road map!"

Her eyes lit up as understanding flooded over her. "You're saying I can shift us across Timelines, and you can tell by the look of things how close we are to the Line we came from?"

Vask bobbed his head eagerly. "I think so, yes. You could move out of this energy spectrum, back to the radiant frequencies I recognize. Then we should be there!"

"Or so close we can't tell the difference. Oh, Vask!" A broad, beaming grin illuminated Reva's face. Her hands captured his and held them tight. "You think this'll really work? It seems so easy—"

"And impossible for either of us working alone. Yes, I think it'll work. We could go right now, if you want."

"Gods, Kastlin! I love you for this!" Her hands shifted to the Fixer's face, and she planted a kiss on his lips before he could react. Then she was on her feet again, pacing once more. "We can't leave from here," she said. "It's not our apartment in Mainline—someone else will be here. We don't have to take things; everything's waiting for us in that Line already—"

"Reva."

"Best if we go right away, before Lish has more trouble on her doorstep. Bugs must be after her by now, after Rinoco...."

"Reva." Vask stood, grasped the tall woman's arms, and halted her progress across the floor. "We'll go, whenever you like. I'd like to do this right the first time, though, and you've got to be rested and centered—"

She pulled her arms free and scowled down at Kastlin. "Don't worry about me. I may be wound up right now, but I've never succeeded at what we're about to try.
Never."
Her throat grew tight. "There are a lot of things I would've undone if I'd had your sight, a way to choose between the Lines...."

She turned away. "I'll be ready when the time comes. For now—why don't you help me make some plans? We've got some concerns here besides crossing the Lines."

Kastlin watched her back, then sat on the couch where she had gestured. He'd seen her go from mercurial moodiness to ice-cold nerve before. Doubtless she would do it again when she needed to. And she was right about one thing.

If Security was on the move in Mainline, too, they would both be dealing with more than a shift of Timelines.

Agent Jorris hunched
into his stained work coverall, snugging his jacket closer against the brisk harbor breeze. To the casual eye he looked like another out-of-work dockhand, burly of frame, worn of clothing. He loitered aimlessly, sheltered in the lee of a net hoist.

"Surveillance team in position," he mumbled into his collar-tab com pickup. He squinted, and the macrocontacts he wore pulled his target of observation into close-up focus. It was a waterfront office 100 meters down the street, a small operation with the sign: "Verchiko's Imports," posted beside the door.

Jorris had let Karuu get away at Bendinabi starport, when the

Holdout had first run. If this tip was a good one, he could erase that blunder from his record, and bring in the fugitive who had eluded Internal Security for so long.

The big man smiled to himself and pulled an empty packing crate over to sit on. This was going to be worth the wait.

"Do we need to take anything?" Vask looked around the apartment as he spoke.

"No point," Reva answered. "Everything should be pretty much how we left it, if we're on the mark with this shift."

Vask caught her eye. "This Lish isn't going to be happy to see us again."

The assassin smiled coldly. "She gave us until the end of today to clear out, didn't she? Today's not over with yet."

Vask inclined his head. He'd just as soon not return to the Lairdome to try this experiment, but Reva's argument made sense. If events in this Line echoed those in the other, however faintly, then the Holdout might be lingering on Selmun III—a dangerous interlude, for whatever reason, with Yavobo and the Bugs after her. It was best if they could return to not only the time, but the place where Lish was to be found. Reva wanted to make certain she was out of the reach of assassins and Security. It wasn't a plan Vask could argue her out of.

"I guess we're ready, then," he said, and followed her through the door.

I shouldn't be here, Daribi chided himself again. I should be out of sight. Wake up later and call the drop box. If the Bugs made a deposit, I'll know they've got him....

He snickered, a bitter sound devoid of humor. There was a horrible fascination in this, watching the Holdout he'd worked with for years get swept up like so much street garbage by Internal Security. On his tip-off. On his turncoat word.

Give it a break, he told himself. I'm no traitor. There's nothing worth my loyalty anymore, and a man's gotta eat.

He'd tried to force himself away from the impending drama, but curiosity had sunk its claws into him and wouldn't let go. So he waited with ghoulish fascination, huddled like a derelict among packing debris. There was Verchiko's, down one block; from the alley mouth where he lurked he could just see the entrance.

He rehearsed an imaginary conversation as he waited, things that needed saying.

It's nothing personal, Boss, he said. I need the money, real bad. Besides, you shouldn't have tried to kill me. Then putting Dock-boys onto me. That was too low.

You understand how that goes, Boss. Don't you? You'd do the same if you were in my place. I know you would....

The Bennap warehouses were cleared, offworld shipments set up. There was nothing for it but to visit that bastard Gerick and ask what new thing to begin work on.

Karuu took a ground cab—the cheapest quick transportation he could afford—and ordered the human driver to take the most direct route to the office: one that cut through alleys and along back streets. It was chance that carried him past the alley mouth where Daribi lay in wait, serendipity that caused Karuu to glance that way, and belatedly recognize the figure he glimpsed huddled there.

"No! No!" he told the driver as the vehicle began to slow by Verchiko's. "Keep going. Circle around behind the warehouses and back up the alley we just came out of!"

The man made a face and shook his head but obeyed his fare's directions.

The cab emerged one alley over from Daribi's lookout, and stopped there on Karuu's order. The Dorleoni slipped out to walk gently down the sidewalk toward the next alley intersection. He fished in the belt of his sarong as he approached, pulling out something he'd invested in since starting his search for the Islander. Then, gathering himself, Karuu jumped around the corner of the building and into the alleyway.

"Ha!" he cried. "Do not move!"

The melodrama was lost on Daribi, startled near out of his skin by the sudden intrusion. The man threw himself back against the wall and tried to scramble away, packing scraps slipping under his hands and hip, denying him purchase. He recognized Karuu, saw the doubled hands clasped before the Dorleoni's rotund midsection. He didn't recognize what gleamed there until Karuu's hands jerked, struggling to hold back the thing that wanted to tug from his grasp.

Daribi's eyes widened and he quit trying to scuttle out of the way.

"Ah-ha!" the Dorleoni chortled, his eyes bright with triumph. "You are knowing what I am holding, yes? A seeker. A little sting, that wants to greet you. Talk with me, Daribi, and you may not get stung."

The seeker strained toward its target, the closest source of body heat other than the one who had activated it. Its needle-tipped injector could hold any of a number of drugs, including lethal injections. Daribi licked his lips. Karuu had tried to bite his throat out once; he didn't want to know what might be inside the robotic dart.

"Heya, Boss," he said weakly. "What... what's to talk about?"

"You are the good one for alley encounters, though I think we do this better elsewhere. You are please to stand up." A tug on the straining seeker emphasized his words; Daribi came slowly to his feet.

"I kindly give you a ride, now," Karuu said, inclining his head toward the corner where the taxi waited. "After you, my friend."

Daribi walked as directed, his former employer following after. A moment later taxi doors closed, and the vehicle wheeled about, heading away from the office where Karuu had been bound moments before.

"It's a Dorleoni?"

"Confirmed. Not heading our way, though." Mikos watched the departing taxi. "I'll tail him."

Jorris calculated his options. If this wasn't the right mark and he moved the stakeout team, they might miss Karuu. Yet if it was the fugitive Holdout, something was up. There was no point in letting him slip through their fingers again.