Starrigger

one more question. To wit: if we have the map already.. 1 mean our future selves, of course… if we've already returned six months ago with the thing, or with Winnie or whatever, why in the name of all that's holy are they trying to get it now? It's done, finished. How can they hope to change what's happened?'

'That's a tough one. Would you still buy my crock if I told you I had no idea?'

'Yeah, but I'm gullible.'

'Got anything else from the file?'

'Well, under 'Colonial Assembly' I got the usual pile of nonnews, except for one item that cross- referenced with 'intelligence.''

'Give it to me.'

'I'll digest it. It's about two Assemblymen ? actually a man and a woman ? being suspended by the Authority pending an investigation into their part in activities which've been deemed by the Authority to be outside the bounds of the Assembly's proper sphere of concern. Probably wanted to wipe their asses without having to petition the Authority in writing first.'

'How did it cross-reference with 'intelligence'?'

'The information was based on Militia intelligence reports.'

'Sounds like a smoke screen ? the story, I mean. Got any background on it?'

'A bit. If you remember a while back, there was some roadbuzz about a secret intelligence cell within the Assembly. Undercover operatives, special operations, that sort of thing. The funds for it were supposed to've been disguised as temporary staff salaries for a couple of investigative committees.'

'Wow. Who leaked all that?'

'Authority plants in the Assembly, of course. They carry on a loose-lip campaign in cocktail bars and bedrooms; and when the story gets widely circulated, the Authority acts. That way the plants don't blow their cover. For good measure, the Authority may have had a spy right in the cell.'

'Double agent?'

'Right.'

'Okay.' I sat up on the bed. 'Sam, you did a good job. We have one more piece of the puzzle. Right now I don't know where it fits, but it's a big one. Talk to you later.'

'Report in regularly, will you?'

'Sure.' I got up and went to the connecting hatch, put my ear against it. Roland, John, and Darla were talking quietly next door.

I turned to Winnie and said, 'Let's you and me go for a little walk, honey.'

16

Without hesitation, she followed me to the hatch. We went out into the hallway after I'd checked it out. I closed the hatch softly. She took my hand, her double-thumbed grip feeling strange but firm and trusting, and we walked along the red-carpeted, gold-papered hallway. I'd never been on a true water-displacing vessel of this size, but it reminded me of pictures of old Terran buildings. There was a feeling of space here, none of the economicah crampedness you'd expect, let alone the nightmarish claustrophobia of a deep-space ship. And from what I'd seen of this Outworld maze, the ship seemed out of place in its luxuriousness. As we neared the lobby area I discovered the reason for its affluence. There was a casino. I didn't stop to gawk, but I caught a glimpse of lots of action, chips flowing at dozens of tables where every game in town was being played. There were aliens in there too.

Before going into the still-crowded lobby, I parked Winnie in a small room full of food-dispensing machines, hiding her behind one of them. I told her to wait until I got back. At the desk, I asked the clerk where the crew quarters were. He gave me a puzzled look before he answered me politely, and I wondered briefly if the 'fraternization' proscription that Krause had mentioned was really true. But the clerk didn't ask for my reasons. He showed me a deck plan of the boat and indicated the crew's quarters in the stem end of C Deck, the lowest of the three.

'Are you looking for someone in particular, sir?'

'Yeah, a girl. Young, about this high, short blondish hair, on the thin side.'

He thought for a moment. 'Oh, I think that's Lorelei. Pretty sure that's the one. She's a belowdecks mate, but we should be all squared away down there by now. We're about to put to sea, and she should be off-duty.'

'Fine. Thanks.' I went back and got Winnie.

It was good to get out of the lobby and into relatively quiet corridors. I felt conspicuous, especially with Winnie, and kept my eyes peeled for a familiar face. None showed. I still felt edgy, but thought I'd risk a tour on deck. I wanted to see how they got the monster out of the harbor.

We went through an undogged hatch out onto a deserted part of the outer forward deck. It was a recreation area, with games painted on the wood decking, canvas chairs stacked by the bulkhead, a few tables under umbrellas. We stood at the railing and watched as the ship-animal retreated from shore-backwards, trailing a wake of bubbling water. A smaller complement of beaters was on duty at the bow, but there were still at least fifty of them, slapping out a slow rhythm. It must have been a delicate bit of seamanship; the beats were measured and deliberate. We were halfway out of the harbor, leaving behind a deserted island back-lit by a smoldering orange sun. It looked as if the island were moving away, and not us. Below, I could see most of the upper surface of the beast. Seal-creatures were all over the place, dragging piles of seaweed with their forward flippers, popping in and out of the dome-structures, generally going about their appointed tasks, whatever they were. I could see that the resemblance to Terran seals was superficial. The heads were bigger and the wrinkled faces flatter, with not much of a snout. And the eyes were strange. It was a little too far to tell, but it looked as though they might be structurally similar to the beast-eye we'd seen.

We were on the upper main deck, but above us was a poop deck where the bridge was. Officers leaned over the rails watching the ship's progress. I wondered how the bridge was relaying orders to the pilot-musicians, or if the bridge was giving orders at all. True, a captain hands the conn over to the pilot when entering or leaving harbor, but what about in open sea?

I felt eyes on me, and looked toward the starboard flying bridge. A stocky, bearded man in a gold uniform was staring at me. The captain. No, not actually staring ? appraising, sizing me up, the shiny visor of his cap starred with sunlight. I couldn't see his eyes, but I felt their clinical gaze.

I took Winnie's hand and we went back inside. We took a long trek through the ship, avoiding main areas of activity. We passed near a dining area filling up with hungry patrons, went by a ballroom, a darkened theater, skirted the trade and shopping deck, and then found a narrow stairway that led all the way down to C Deck. Below, we encountered an empty six-bed infirmary looking very underequipped, found lockers, storerooms, and strangely enough, a sign that read TOPSIDE HOLDS 5-10. I had thought that cargo would be shipped belowdecks, but some items were probably too fragile for beast-gizzards.

We finally came to the crew quarters. I looked around, found a maintenance closet full of mops and pails, and told Winnie to wait inside. She looked at me nervously, then crept inside and sat in a comer, her big eyes glowing in the shadows. I whispered to her reassuringly, telling her I'd be right back and not to be afraid. I hoped she understood ? but then, my communication problem with her seemed to be one-way, with me having all the trouble.

The crew area was divided up into little cabins of four or five bunks each. Most of the hatches were closed, but I saw a few sailors racked out on their bunks, asleep. It had been a long watch. Luckily, there were name plates listing the occupants of each cabin; perversely, only first initials and surnames were used. Think of asking for her last name? Not you, Jake. I took a stroll through the maze of passages, squinting in the dim light. I found a total of four L. Somebodys. Lorelei Mikhailovich? Not likely, but you never know. Lorelei Sou-phanouvong? Improbable. That narrowed it to two, L. Fin-kelhor and L. Peters. Peters it is. I knocked.

A muffled reply. I knocked again. Grumbling and general complaining.

The hatch opened and there was Lorelei looking bleary-eyed in a tattered blue robe. 'Yes?' She squinted at me. 'Who're you?'

'Is my face that forgettable?'

After a second, it hit her. 'Oh, yeah, the truckie.' Her eyes grew wary. 'What do you want?'