The Gateway Trip

'Very pretty,' I agreed. 'Are you familiar with the story of the Heechee?'

I looked inquiringly toward the empty chair, and, as Cochenour didn't tell me to get lost, I sat down in it and went on. 'The Heechee built these tunnels a long time ago-maybe a quarter of a million years. Maybe more. They seem to have occupied them for some time, anything up to a century or two, give or take a lot. Then they went away again. They left a lot of junk behind, and some things that weren't junk. Among other things, they left thousands of these fans. Some local con-man-it wasn't BeeGee here, I think, but somebody like him-got the idea of calling the things 'prayer fans' and selling them to tourists to make wishes on.'

Allemang had been hanging on my every word, trying to guess where I was going. 'Partly, that's right,' he admitted.

'All of it is right. But you two are too smart for that kind of thing. Still,' I added, 'look at the fans. They're pretty enough to be worth having even without the story.'

'They are, absolutely!' Allemang cried. 'See how this one sparkles, miss! And this black and gray crystal, how nice it looks with your fair hair!'

 

The girl unfurled the black and gray one. It came rolled like a diploma, only cone-shaped. It took just the slightest pressure of the thumb to keep it open, and it really sparkled very prettily as she gently waved it about. Like all the Heechee fans, it weighed only about ten grams, not counting the simulated-wood handles that people like BeeGee Allemang put on them. Its crystalline lattice caught the lights from the luminous Heechee-metal walls, as well as from the fluorescents and gas tubes we maze-runners had installed, and tossed all the lights back as shimmering, iridescent sparks.

'This fellow's name is Booker Garey Allemang,' I told the Terries. 'He'll sell you the same goods as any of the others, but he won't cheat you as much as most of them-especially with me watching.'

Cochenour looked at me dourly, then beckoned Sub Vastra for another round of drinks. 'All right,' he said. 'If we buy any of this we'll buy from you, Booker Garey Allemang. But not now.' He turned to me. 'And now what is it that you hope I'll buy from you?'

I spoke right up. 'My airbody and me. If you want to go loking for new tunnels, we're both as good as you can get.'

He didn't hesitate. 'How much?'

'One million dollars,' I said immediately. 'Three-week charter, all found.'

This time he didn't answer at once, although I was pleased to see that the price didn't seem to scare him away. He looked as receptive, or at least as merely bored, as ever. 'Drink up,' he said, as Vastra and his Third served us, and then he gestured with his glass to the Spindle around us. 'Do you know what this is for?' he asked.

'Do you mean, why the Heechee built it? No. The Heechee weren't any taller than we are, so it wasn't this big because they needed headroom. And it was entirely empty when it was found.'

He looked around, without excitement, at the busy scene. The Spindle is always busy. It had balconies cut into the sloping sides of

the cavern, with eating and drinking places like Vastra's along there, and rows of souvenir booths. Most of them were of course empty, in this slow season. But there were still a couple hundred maze-rats living in and near the Spindle, and the number of them hovering around us had been quietly growing all the time Cochenour and the girl had been sitting there.

He said, 'There's nothing much to see here, is there?' I didn't argue. 'There's nothing but a hole in the ground, full of people trying to take my spare change away from me.' I shrugged; he grinned at me-less meanly than before, I thought. 'So why did I come to Venus, if that's how I feel? Well, that's a good question, but since you didn't ask it I don't have to answer.'

He looked at me to see if I might be going to press the matter. I didn't.

'So let's just talk business,' he went on. 'You want a million dollars. Let's see what that pays for. It'd be around a hundred K to charter an airbody. A hundred and eighty K or so to rent equipment for a week, times three weeks. Food, supplies, permits, another fifty K. So we're up close to seven hundred thousand, not counting your own salary or what you have to give our host here as his cut for not throwing you off the premises. Is that about the way it adds up, Walthers?'

I had not expected him to be a cost-accountant. I had a little difficulty swallowing the drink I had been holding in my mouth, but I managed to say, 'Close enough, Mr. Cochenour.' I didn't see any point in telling him that I already owned the airbody, as well as most of the other needed equipment-that was the only way there was going to be anything left for me after paying off all the other charges. But I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he knew that, too.

Then he surprised me. 'Sounds like the right price,' he said casually. 'You've got a deal. I want to leave as soon as possible, which I want to be, urn, just about this time tomorrow.'

'Fair enough,' I said, getting up. 'I'll see you then.'

I avoided Sub Vastra's thunderstricken expression as I left. I had some work to do, and a little thinking. Cochenour had caught me off base, and that's a bad place to be when you can't afford to make a mistake. I knew he hadn't missed the fact that I'd called him by name. That was all right. He would easily guess that I had checked him out immediately, and his name was the least of the things he would assume I had found out about him.

But it was a little surprising that he had known mine.

HI