Triplet (3 page)

“Indeed?” She looked at the second man with new interest. Medium height and build, dark eyes in a quiet face—there was nothing especially noteworthy about him. Certainly nothing that immediately marked him as a veteran of travel in the Hidden Worlds. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ravagin.”

“Just Ravagin, Ms. Panya,” he told her. The quiet of his voice matched that of his face. “It's a single, all-purpose name.”

“Ah,” she said, not really understanding. “Well … please call me Danae, then.”

He nodded, and DorLexis jumped back into the conversation. “I've already arranged for your luggage to be transferred to the Checkpoint Building, Ms. Panya; whenever you're ready we can head there ourselves and start your processing.”

“Already? I assumed that with my early arrival and all I'd have to wait a few days.”

DorLexis smiled, almost smugly. “We're well accustomed to dealing with the unexpected here. I started things rolling as soon as the ship's captain lasered his passenger list to us. If you'll come this way …?”

Together, they headed toward the exit. “About how long will all this take?” Danae asked.

“Oh, the processing itself will only take a couple of hours,” DorLexis assured her. “We need to check you for any diseases you might be carrying, give you some broad-spectrum immunity injections and check for reactions to them—that sort of thing.”

“And also make sure you know what you're getting into,” Ravagin put in.

“I read all the material you sent to me,” Danae told him. “Are you saying it was inaccurate?”

“Of course not,” DorLexis said quickly. ‘It's just that—well, the Couriers tend to think our information packets are incomplete.”

Danae looked at Ravagin. “Are they?”

“Of course,” he said. “You can't put everything about two entire worlds on a few pages, especially when they're not meant to be anything but a general overview in the first place.”

“So why don't the packets include more?”

“What would be the point? Most travelers wouldn't bother to read them anyway. They'd just do what they do now: rely on the Courier to do all the major thinking and worrying for them inside.”

“Ravagin—” DorLexis began warningly.

“No, let him continue, please,” Danae interrupted. “If you think so little of your clients, why do you continue to put up with the job?”

“Who said I thought little of them?” Ravagin growled. “I said most of them wouldn't prepare themselves any more than they do now, regardless of what material we gave them.”

“Be assured, Ms. Panya,” DorLexis cut in, “that Ravagin and all our other Couriers are strongly dedicated to their work, no matter how they may talk on occasion.” He flicked a glare at Ravagin. “You have nothing at all to fear going into the Hidden Worlds with anyone from the Corps.”

“Of course,” Danae nodded, hiding with an effort her annoyance at the other's well-meant interference. Her first clean shot at seeing what made Ravagin tick, and DorLexis had just fouled it up. But there would be plenty of time for that later. “So when will we actually be heading into Shamsheer?”

“Tomorrow morning, if you'd like,” DorLexis said, clearly glad to be on safe ground again. “We prefer you to have a good night's sleep before you go in.”

Danae nodded. “Sounds good. I'm anxious to get started. If that's all right with you, Ravagin?”

He shrugged, back inside his shell again. “You're the boss.”

They walked in silence for another minute, reaching the exit and walking into the shifting winds outside. They were halfway to the car DorLexis had pointed out when the faint pop of a sonic boom drifted in from the distance. Danae looked up, but the low clouds hid the approaching starship from sight. “How often do you get off-world ships in here?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

“Oh, once or twice a week, usually,” DorLexis said, glancing at the sky himself. “As I said, there's not much in this part of Threshold except the Tunnel, and as you know there are strict limitations on the number of people who are allowed inside.”

“Um.” But that
had
been a starship's deceleration boom—Danae was almost sure of it. Which meant the respite she'd gained by finagling the earlier flight was about due to end.

Whatever that ship was—commercial, military, or private—she could almost guarantee that Hart would be on it.

They reached the car and climbed in … and as DorLexis threaded them through the other parked vehicles toward the exit road, she caught a glimpse of the sleek rich man's skimmer settling into its approach glide over the starport's landway.

Hart, for sure.

Damn.
But there was nothing she could do about it now. Settling back against the cushions, she closed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to relax.

His copy of the test results tracked their way across his display, and Ravagin paused in his route planning for a quick look at the bottom line. A green light, as expected.

Which meant Danae Panya had cleared the last hurdle standing between her and her two fun-filled months on the Hidden Worlds.

Damn.

With a sigh, he erased the information from the screen. He'd been feeling ambivalent enough about this trip before the trip to the starport this morning—and now, having spent much of the day with his client, his mood was even worse. From the sort of questions she'd plied him with it was clear that she was the type who thought Courier and client should be best friends right from the starting gun, and there were few types Ravagin hated more. It was indeed going to be a fun couple of months.

The click of his phone interrupted his brooding. “Ravagin, this is Kyle Grey at the main entrance guard station. Do you know anyone by the name of Hart?”

“No,” Ravagin answered. “Should I?”

“I wouldn't if I were you. He wants to see you about joining your tour tomorrow.”

Ravagin snorted. “Sure thing. I'll just pack him in my trunk and smuggle him across the telefold. Tell him to take a hike in the Dead Zone, will you?”

“Wait, you haven't heard the best part. When I told him I couldn't let him in to see you without a permit, he tried to buy one. From me.”

Ravagin felt his eyebrows go up. “You mean a bribe?”

“Uh-huh. A
big
one, too. Makes me almost wish I didn't have any scruples.”

“Or monitor cameras pointed at your station?” Ravagin added acidly.

“That too. Anyway, I've already sealed the foyer and pushed the panic button, but I thought you might want to come take a look at this character before they haul him away.”

Why not? “On my way.”

The reinforcements were in the process of frisking Hart down when Ravagin arrived; and judging from the pile on the foyer table, he was carrying more than his fair share of illegal or suspicious gear. But if the man was worried the emotion didn't show anywhere in face or stance. In fact, from his almost bored expression, Ravagin might almost guess he broke into restricted areas twice a week.

“You must be Ravagin,” the man said as Ravagin walked into the room. “My name is Hart. I'd like to discuss your trip tomorrow, if I may.”

The man had poise; Ravagin had to give him that. “Sorry, but I usually make it a point not to take blithering idiots into the Hidden Worlds with me—not good for one's health. Whatever made you think you could offer such a blatant bribe here and get away with it?”

“Oh, the bribe was just a conversation piece,” Hart shrugged. “I thought the guard might call and let you know about it. I see I was right.”

“Good for you,” the guard captain standing nearby grunted. “First prize is a few years in a very deep hole somewhere. Congratulations.”

“Not at all—I'll be out in a matter of hours,” Hart said calmly. “I have—let us say—well-placed friends.”

“Fine—you can call them when you get to Gateway City,” the captain told him.

“I will. Meanwhile—” his eyes bored into Ravagin's—“perhaps I may discuss with Mr. Ravagin the possibility of joining his party tomorrow.”

“There isn't any possibility,” Ravagin said flatly. “The roster is set, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“Not strictly true,” Hart shook his head. “A Courier has considerable power over the makeup of his group—including the power to add someone. Even at this late date, if you didn't mind postponing your departure a day or two. Which is also within your authority.”

Ravagin pursed his lips, intrigued in spite of himself. Danae Panya was here through official and probably money-based pressure; now Hart was implying a similar backing. Connection? “You're correct, at least in principle,” he admitted, “but in this case it's irrelevant. My client has gone to great lengths to ensure a private trip into the Hidden Worlds, and I've found that when money fights with money the first batch in usually wins.”

Hart cocked an eyebrow. “Would it help if I told you that her money and my money were from the same person?”

“It might … if you could also explain why he didn't arrange it as a joint package in the first place.”

“It was done that way for reasons I'd rather not go into,” the other said with a shrug. “Be assured, though, that I
can
easily prove what I'm saying.”

A motion outside caught Ravagin's eye: a heavy prisoner transport pulling up to the door. “If I were you, I wouldn't waste the time. By the time you get anyone to believe you we'll be in Shamsheer and long out of your reach.”

Hart eyed him coolly. “I see. Well, I suppose I should take some comfort in the fact that you're not easily corruptible. Let me try a different tack, then, for the—” he glanced out the door at the transport—“few seconds I have left here. The Hidden Worlds are an extremely dangerous place, even for a Courier of your experience and reputation. If something should happen to your client in there, you could be in severe trouble.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not at all—just a statement of reality. For all your undoubted skills, you're not trained as a professional bodyguard. I am. If you allow me to accompany you, you'll be taking far less risk, both of serious injury to your client and of possible legal fallout upon your return.”

And with that Ravagin's simmering dislike of Hart finally passed the fine line into disgust. “I don't know where you learned how to deal with people, Hart,” he said, controlling himself with a supreme effort. “But I suggest you never again try suggesting to a Triplet Courier that he can't do his job. Captain, I'd appreciate it if you'd make sure the authorities at Gateway City hold your prisoner here until my client and I are in Shamsheer. If you need more charges against him to do that, let me know—I've got a few I'd be happy to file.”

The other nodded grimly. “You got it, Ravagin. Come on, Hart—let's not keep the cells waiting.”

Ravagin watched from inside as they bundled Hart into the transport and drove away. “Guy's a real winner, isn't he?” Grey commented from the guard station.

“This whole trip is starting to look that way,” Ravagin growled. “Listen, Grey, I'd like you to alert the rest of the Couriers to this guy. If he's really got the pull to get out of the mess he's in he might try to talk someone else into taking him in behind me.”

“Right,” Grey nodded. “You think all that talk about danger meant anything sinister?”

“As in Danae Panya is somehow marked for trouble?” Ravagin shook his head. “At this point nothing would surprise me. Keep a good eye on that door, okay?”

“Sure. Don't worry; anyone who wants into the Tunnel tonight'll have to go through the Dead Zone to get to it.”

“I almost hope Hart tries it. Talk to you later.”

Still seething inside, he headed back to his office and his waiting maps.

H
ART WAS, UNFORTUNATELY, ALMOST
as good as his word, By morning he was out of custody; and though the authorities in Gateway City assured Ravagin that he'd been “strongly warned” to stay away from the entire Reingold Crater area, it was with a nagging sense of being watched that Ravagin climbed into an autocar with Danae for the short drive to the Tunnel.

It was a typical Threshold day: cool, cloudy, and generally unpleasant—the sort of departure day, according to Courier superstition, that boded well for a trip to the Hidden Worlds. Not that Ravagin believed any of that nonsense … not really. But he'd spent a great deal of time traveling on Karyx, and no one who'd been there could ever again take a completely cavalier attitude toward the concepts of luck and fate. And with the trouble this whole trip had already generated. … Furtively, feeling more than a little foolish, he made the prescribed good-luck sign toward the gray clouds above. Just in case.

There was actually little danger of the gesture being seen. Danae's eyes, like everyone else's who came this way, were glued to the window, though what visitors saw in the remnants of an ancient nuclear bomb crater Ravagin would never know. That Reingold Crater had been the site of a tremendous blast was abundantly clear; even after some eight centuries of erosion, it was nearly two hundred kilometers across and easily visible from low orbit on a clear day. The biggest crater on Threshold; but at ground level it wasn't particularly impressive. There was little to see, in fact, but the same sterile gray-brown dirt that covered most of the rest of the world.

“I understand the whole planet's basically like this,” Danae commented, still gazing out the window.

“Uh—?” he managed, momentarily startled at the way her thoughts had paralleled his. “You mean the ground?'

“And the giant craters and the lousy weather,” she nodded, turning to look curiously at him. “All of it from the war?”

He shrugged. “Presumably, though we're hardly in a position to know what the place was like before they blew themselves to gray dust.”