Tanderon (16 page)

I moved around in my armchair to get comfortable while watching Ringer gesture to a robot waiter. Val had his eyes on me in a thoughtful way, and there was no sign of the anger he’d shown earlier in the suite. He seemed to be thinking about what I’d done, and knowing he was pawing through my actions looking for motivations bothered me for some reason. I shifted in the chair again, met his eyes briefly, then decided to look away and not look back. There was something about the way he studied me that once again seemed to have nothing to do with a business relationship, but that was stupid. He couldn’t possibly have missed learning his lesson…

“We’ll order now,” Ringer was saying to the robot that had glided over. “Two true steaks, medium rare, for the other gentleman and myself, and two bottles of Aneran beer. The young lady will have a large plate of mixed vegetables and a cup of tea.”

“Vegetables and tea?” I echoed as the robot left to pick up the order it had already transmitted to the kitchens. “Come on, Ringer, you don’t seriously expect me to eat that?”

“You’ll eat it or I’ll feed it to you,” Ringer growled in answer, his head down a little, his eyes looking up at me. “Someone who gets as involved in physical exercise as you do needs a good, healthy meal to keep them going. Consider it a bonus for your recent short distance run and shut up.”

He kept his eyes on me, so I slumped down in the chair with a disgusted expression on my face. It was punishment time again, and Ringer was saying that if not for my attempted break I would have gotten steak too. The security men showed appreciation of the gesture by the grins on their faces, and I thought fleetingly of how pleasant it would be to walk over all of them.

We sat and waited in silence, and it didn’t take very long before the food arrived.

The steaks put in front of Ringer and Val had been grilled to drooling perfection, the beer poured into their glasses tall, cold, golden life-blood. Ringer knew well enough how I appreciated good food, and he smiled a little when the buttered yams and soft, hot rolls were added to the table near the steaks. I gazed lovingly at the best food I was likely to see in a long time, then closed my eyes when the plate of plain vegetables was set in front of me.

“Pick up your fork, Diana,” Ringer directed, and I opened my eyes to see him watching me with amused attention. I had a very strong urge to forget about any satisfaction due him and give him indigestion even before he tasted that grilled glory, but I like to think I have more self-control than that. I sighed silently in resignation, and stuck with my original resolve.

“Ringer, you can’t do this to me!” I said desperately, leaning forward toward him.

“How do you expect me to eat nothing but vegetables with something like that steak staring me in the face? And that beer! Do you know how long it’s been since – ”

“Start eating,” Ringer interrupted, a hard look now in his eyes. “I’ll enjoy my own meal more once I see that you’ve started yours. If I have to say it again, I’ll sit you on my lap and shovel it in with a spoon.”

I let my gaze flicker back and forth to the people at the tables around us, some of whom were paying close, grinning attention, glanced again at Ringer, then lowered my eyes and reluctantly picked up the fork. Ringer grunted in satisfaction and turned to his own meal, and we ate in silence. In point of fact I love vegetables and Xanadu O.S.’s kitchens had done a marvelous job on them, but I ate them as though they were the last thing in the world that I wanted. Actually I wasn’t much in the mood for anything – including one of those steaks – but Ringer didn’t have to know that. At least when I left over most of what had been given me, no one would wonder why or try to argue.

When the food was all gone, Ringer was in a good mood again. I could tell that by the higher key growl in his voice when he ordered me to my feet. I sent him a cold glare, but let myself be herded out of the dining room anyway. The security men had had a good chuckle over what Ringer had done, but once we were moving through the amusement area again their lightheartedness left them. They watched me just as though I were their own personal fortune, and before I knew it we had passed the entrance to the hospital area and were crossing the threshold into the docking area.

Station docking areas are so big that they take your breath away even when you’re used to them. People are constantly arriving and leaving, and there’s always a knot of perpetual waiters, people whose liner shuttles haven’t reached the station yet. Bright lights indicate the various liner shuttle bays spaced out around the perimeter of the area. When a shuttle is on its way to the pre-assigned bay or already in it, the light begins to blink and doesn’t stop until the shuttle is gone.

Three of the bays on the right had blinking lights and most of the crowds were concentrated in that direction, leaving only a trickle of traffic for the left. On the left was where the private ships were berthed, and the docking bays were slightly farther apart from one another. The seven of us moved down the center of the vast area, drawing stares and puzzled attention. But his time the stares weren’t bothering the security men. They all had their hands on their weapons and were looking even more nervous than they had earlier, and Ringer walked to our left and slightly behind rather than in front of us.

Ringer knew my best bet for making a break would be to the left, toward the private ships, and he wasn’t worrying about the crowds the way the security men were. The spread of the guards’ stunners would render them just about useless if I managed to put myself in the middle of a group of innocent bystanders, but Ringer’s slug gun didn’t have that shortcoming.

The crowds to the right were tempting but useless, the ships to the left useful but out of reach. I kept my eyes moving in case a miracle happened, but aside from that I just walked along as though completely unconcerned. Val walked with Ringer and to his left, but that did me less than no good at all. I sure as hell couldn’t expect Val to cover a break by taking Ringer out, and as eager as he’d been to see me at the Academy he’d probably help out by tripping me if I ran past him.

About two thirds of the way to the far end of the shuttle area, also on the left, were three bays marked off in yellow and red. These bays were perpetually reserved for the use of visiting bigwigs, special emergency arrivals, or the Federation Navy whenever they had to dock a dinghy. One of the bays had its lights blinking, with four Shore Patrolmen standing in front of the opened hatch, lounging against the metal wall in appreciation of the quiet as sailors are fond of doing.

Their uniforms were gold with red and black trim, differentiating them from the army who wore black and gold with red trim and the marines who wore red and black with gold. Explorers wore all white with just a trace of red and gold, landing teams wore black with white, red, and gold armbands, and agents, First Class or otherwise, wore no uniforms whatsoever on any occasion. At various times supporters of Federation agents have insisted that we’ve earned a uniform just like the other branches of service, but happily that particular helpful hand has so far been pocketed.

The Shore Patrolmen straightened up when they saw us approaching, then stood aside to let Ringer hustle me through the hatch by one arm. The security men had looked indecently relieved to have me out of their custody, but I missed a final view of their relief. Val walked into the shuttle behind Ringer and me, the four Shore Patrolmen followed him, and the last of them turned to the controls to close the double doors of the airlock.

The lock slid closed with a click, an amber light glowed on the control panel beside the door, and Ringer finally let go of my arm to find himself a seat in the unornamented black and gold shuttle. The airlock was now sealed from the pilot’s compartment, so I found a seat of my own and stretched out in it. Val sat down next to me without a word as the shuttle engines began to hum, but I kept my attention on the seat back in front of me and paid none of it to him. The bad feeling I’d had all along about the wisdom of the venture hadn’t disappeared, and I was in no mood for conversation.

The hop over to the cruiser took no more than four minutes, most of the time being used up by pulling away from the orbital station and docking in the cruiser bay. We left the shuttle to the swarm of navy files moving around the bay and were led to an uncarpeted gray metal corridor, which took us to officer’s country and the captain’s office. Val and I, with the SP’s for company, waited outside while Ringer went in alone, but we didn’t have much of a wait. In no more than ten minutes Ringer was back out in the corridor, closing the door behind him before coming over to stop in front of me.

“I’ve just officially turned you over to Captain Lowell,” he said, examining me in a final sort of way. “Now you’re his headache, and I’m going on a short vacation.

Enjoy your own vacation. You’ve got a lot of it ahead of you.”

“You’re sweet, Ringer,” I told him with an innocent smile. “I’m going to miss you.

With you gone, I’ll have to go to the head all by myself.”

I purposely hadn’t kept my voice down, and the attention of all four of the SP’s was suddenly riveted on us. They looked at me, then looked at Ringer with barely concealed leers. Ringer flushed and started to glance around, then realized how guilty that particular reaction would look. He gave it up and brought his gaze back to me, and the expression in his eyes was hard all over again.

“Diana, the next time anyone uses a hairbrush on you, it’s going to be me!” he growled. Then he turned and stomped off without a backward look.

I almost felt like grinning at Ringer’s departing back, but my attention was taken by a very young junior officer who came up to the captain’s door, knocked, then entered.

He was out again immediately to tell Val and me that the captain was ready to see us, so we left the gray metal corridor to the SP’s and went on in.

Captain Lowell sat behind a desk in the small room, leaning back and looking at us with mild blue eyes. He was a man in his late forties with a smooth, unlined face and brown hair, and those mild blue eyes seemed entirely at home in his square face. The office held three file cabinets, the captain’s desk and chair, and two plain metal chairs in front of the desk. When Lowell gestured to the chairs, Val and I walked over and sat in them.

“I’m Captain Lowell,” the officer introduced himself in an easy voice once we were settled. “I’d like to welcome you aboard the Swamp Fox. My officers and I will try to make the trip pleasant for you, and I hope you plan to do the same for us.”

He looked straight at me as he said that, and I smiled but didn’t answer him. Unless I wanted to try reaching Dameron’s base in a shuttle, I didn’t have many options open to me. No sense in making trouble if it couldn’t be turned to my advantage.

“This is Ensign Harris,” Lowell continued, gesturing toward the junior officer who stood to his left. “He’ll see to it that your needs are taken care of. These are Federation agents Carter and Santee, Mr. Harris. Try to keep them as happy as possible, since it isn’t every ship that has the honor of transporting a hyper-A.”

“A what, sir?” Harris asked, his young face blank with lack of understanding. Most people would have failed to understand that particular term, so his confusion wasn’t surprising. Lowell, having been in the Service a good deal longer, knew exactly what it meant.

“A hyper-A,” Lowell repeated, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers across his stomach. “That’s short for ‘high percentage-risk agent.’ When jobs come up that are computer rated 95% or more against success of any sort, hyper-A’s are given those jobs. They’re the dirtiest, most dangerous jobs imaginable, and we’re all lucky the hyper-A’s are around to do them.”

I see, sir!” Harris answered, sounding impressed and looking at Val with awe.

Val grinned into his hand, enjoying himself, and Lowell said mildly, “You’re looking the wrong way, Mr. Harris. Agent Santee is the hyper-A.”

Harris turned his confusion in my direction, his cheeks red, but I couldn’t fault him for his reaction. I’ve always found it an asset that people have difficulty believing I’m a Special Agent and the doubt usually helps me on whatever assignment I get. The ensign’s eyes moved over me in shock, and it was impossible to keep from showing the same grin Val had. Considering the way I now looked, I was very obviously not Harris’s picture of a fearless, capable Special Agent.

“I – I’m sorry,” Harris stammered, probably seeing his career going down the drain.

“I didn’t realize – ”

“Don’t let it worry you, Mr. Harris,” I interrupted, trying to reassure him but unable to keep the dryness out of my tone. “I’m in disguise.”

Despite my reassurance the young ensign looked even more confused, and Captain Lowell had to swallow a grin of his own before he moved on to his next topic of discussion.

“I dislike asking you this,” Lowell said, shifting in his chair, “but I have transported agents before and regulations are very clear on the point. Is either of you armed?”

“I’m not,” Val said, and then they both turned their heads to look at me.

“Why, Captain!” I exclaimed, all wide-eyed and terribly innocent. “Do you think I’d come aboard a Federation cruiser armed? I know regulations as well as you do.”

“I’m sure you do,” Lowell said in an amused tone, his steepled fingers at his lips.

“However, you haven’t answered my question.”

I sat there and studied him for a minute, trying to make up my mind. There was no guarantee that he had a metal detector built into his desk, but it wasn’t worth the chance. Right now he felt friendly toward me, and it might be possible to do something with that. I sighed and shook my head, and then stood up.

“You’ve got me, Captain,” I admitted, handing over the knife from my thigh sheath.

“But take good care of it. I’d rather be chained than go without a knife.”

“It will receive the very best of care,” Lowell assured me dryly, taking the knife and putting it in one of his desk drawers. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“That’s it,” I said with a small laugh, tickled by his skepticism, but Val wasn’t tickled.