Crystal Heat

6

Shadith came out of stunner, shock with a throbbing head and body that felt as if she’d been beaten with a rubber hose. The curtains to her single window had been drawn and the morning sun was streaming in. She looked down at herself and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw she was still wearing the damp dirty clothes from last night. She remembered her harp and sat up too fast, yelping with pain as her head threatened to explode, her stomach to erupt, and all she could see was a rainy silver aura with black spots in it that wobbled and darted like tadpoles.

When she pried her eyes open again, to her considerable relief, she saw the harpcase leaning against the wall beside the door.

She eased her legs over the edge of the bed and contemplated getting up. The thought of food revolted her, but she needed the energy. Lot of work to get through this day and the next.

Tank looked at Shadith, sighed, and shook his head. “I have to live here,” he said. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, that you did.” She finished clearing off the table in the dressing room, snapped her bag shut. “You know what he’s got me doing. I’ll be too busy to sing as well as disinclined. See you.” She swept past him, still angry at him. Reporting her activities she could accept as part of the game; setting her up for a snatch was something else.

When she unlocked the door to the room she’d rented and stepped inside, she caught a whiff of jorrat and went very still; a quick probe with her reach, though, told her the place was empty.

A cardboard folder lay in the middle of the rumpled bedspread.

No one here now, but there had been, someone with a jorrat pipe who’d left the stink of his habit behind. Makes you feel really secure the way that lot waltzes in without breaking a sweat. And I suppose those are the printouts. Grinder works fast. Or he already had them.

“And now I get to wear out my eyes on ship data. Tsah!”

She went out, leaned over the railing. “Orrialdy,” she yelled. “You around?”

Her landlady came into the hall on the floor below, a big woman with an abundance of hair, wisps escaping the knot she kept it in to wave around her plush pink face. “Shadow, so?”

“Think you could bring me up a pot of your tea?”

“That I could. Right now?”

“If you will. Door’ll be unlocked.”

After Orrialdy left, Shadith filled her mug with hot tea and opened the folder. Her brows rose as she realized just how much data Grinder had included in the report. Not only the names and descriptions of the ships which left in that seven-hour window, but a history of their appearances here on Hutsartк going back at least ten years, along with short descriptions of owners and crew. There were only three of them, but still…

She set that aside and took up the second set of printouts.

Shuttle flights. Five. Four were cargo lifts with stasis crates. Meat wagons. It might be possible to shove the woman in with the crates. Assuming Daddy was behind the disappearance… which seemed likely since he’d cared enough about Lylunda to see that she was educated and given a chance to get away from here… and considering he was head of government security, he could do things like that. But. It would also leave him open to blackmail or betrayal… hm…

She looked down the lists of the crews. No disappearances or fatal accidents. And none of them had looked up Grinder with news for sale. Not a sure thing, but close enough-to cross this one off.

One of the shuttles was a passenger lift. Hm. Eleven riding it. Passengers and crew all male. Only place to stow her was the baggage compartment and… yes, crew still in business and no comment by Grinder. So, set this one aside, too. Which means the ships in the-tie-downs at the Transfer Station are probably no-goes.

She glanced over that list, found nothing that interested her, and set it aside.

Which left the three on-ground ships.

The K’Jatt, a converted sting ship, owner Lomkael Jurd, dealing in hides and hOrn. She looked at his history. He was in and out all the time, every few weeks. Must stay in the Pseudo Cluster and do all his trading here. He hasn’t got time to get anywhere else, not in that little ship. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of what that hold must smell like, then noticed the last date. He’s back here now Spla! Cross him off, thank whatever. I doubt Daddy would deal with someone in his face all the time.

The second was a Jilitera trader. The Jherada, owner listed as the Jilitera Trust. Hm. She took a sip of the tea and grimaced because it was barely lukewarm. She poured more from the pot and went back to contemplating the readout. Dealing in local plants… the poisonous ones, of course… here’s a note-they’d asked about the fish, but no one was interested in supplying those… which reminds me… that ship… the Elang wouldn’t have anything in there about where she dropped the array… smuggler… she’ll be cautious about what’s private and part of her assets… if Digby got his hands on that kephalos, though… he could go snooping through its innards… rumor is he can scrute the inscrutable and twist the tail on any enigma ever born… but do I want him to do that? He talks good flesh, but how much do I trust him on something like this? Answer to that is not at all… but 1 can use that ship to get out of here without Grinder going nervous on me… he gets nervous and I get dead.

Set aside for now… Jilitera, ship history… set down here seven years ago, then three years, then this last one. I don’t know much about them. Does anyone? Jilitera. Homeworld unknown… maybe they don’t have one… ship born, ship bound… langue unknown… all contacts made with interlingue. trade in plants and plant derivatives… whatever… known as poisoners… trade a lot with University… yes, I remember that time when Aslan wanted to interview some of them. hmp! No outsiders on the ship… no crew even talking to outsiders.

Not likely Daddy chose that one for his little girl. Hm. If the third ship blows out on me, maybe I’d better reconsider those shuttles… Ship, the Vouist… interesting… there’s a note-converted trooper, Rummul Empire… like Swarda’s Slancy Orza… though I’d wager she doesn’t have anything like Orza’s drives… She shook her head. “You’d think I’d keep my mind on business. Stop rambling, Shadow.”

Rummul Empire trooper, owner-Pitroc. Another note. Cover name, real name Harmon… “Sar! First Sapato, now Harmon. Arms dealers I have known. Hm. He dropped a cargo in one of the warehouses, it was picked up three days later by a Chandava merchanter. Definitely old home week. Note doesn’t say what the cargo was, but are we really baffled? And, the answer is no.” I think this is it, Shadow old girl. Arms dealers have tight mouths and like to do favors for people in power. Head of Security here? He has to know what’s shifting through those warehouses. And Harmon looks such a twerp, Daddy would think his kid would be safe.

And maybe he’d be right, I haven’t a clue about Harmon’s little pleasures.

She sat tapping the fingers of her right hand on the stack of papers, sipping at the tea, and staring at the three locks on her door-locks about as useful as a piece of string if the right people wanted to go through them.

After a minute of that, she got to her feet and started pacing about the room. Seemed likely the jorrat freak left more than the printouts. She could hunt for the pickups… get the room sweep from the Trick Kit… which she’d stashed up in the attic, gods be blessed, that would have blown her cover for sure… hah! talk about blowing cover, kit aside, just doing a sweep and cleaning out the bugs…

Figure out a way to use them? Everything I do everything I say here will be picked up by some watcher… Clothes? No problem, she’d bought them for the role. The medkit? Have to take that, too much of me in it. The harp? No way I’m leaving that behind. Have to figure something. Digby’s toolkit. Have to collect that. Stinking Grinder…, but at least he’s not of-ficial hm, Daddy dear the Muck Policeman, does he have his thumb planted on Tank, too? Gods! that would be a mess for sure, ol’ Tank cringing to all comers. Ah spla, I’ve definitely got to get out of here. Use the bugs… we’ll have ourselves a little drama here. Act I scene 1: The spy is working hard but frustrated because she isn’t getting anywhere. She stops her pacing, sits at the table…

Shadith pulled the chair out, settled herself, and once again began leafing through the printouts, frowning at them, looking up at intervals to scowl at the door. She used the time to think over her conclusions and ended more convinced than ever that Lylunda Elang had left Hutsarte on Harmon’s ship.

Hope that’s long enough to bore the hair off whoever’s watching. Act I scene 2: The spy vents her frustration on the folder, announces she’s bored with this and is going to take a break…

She slapped the folder shut, tossed it onto the bed. Rubbed her eyes. Tilted the pot over the mug for the last bitter drops of room-temperature tea. “Sar! Enough for today. B000ring. I think I’ll rent me one of the Tinkerman’s flits and go write me another song. Unless it’s raining.” She pushed away from the table and went to the window.

The clouds were high and scattered. It might rain after dark, but probably not until then. Time I had some luck. “Harp; where’s my harp. Ah there. My bag. Spla, my hands are mucky. Better wash first. Hm. Change my clothes, it’s cooler out on the water…”

Twenty minutes later she stuffed the folder into her ybag and reached for the door latch. Act I scene 3: Exit one spy.