Imperium card deck and find a way to pass the time until the meal is ready.”
So that was that. Good-bye, interest and intrigue at Kerfsis; hello, interest and intrigue at Modhra. I just hoped all of this was related to the Spider’s vision of interstellar warfare. I hoped, too, that it wouldn’t interfere too much with the other job I was supposed to be doing.
Most of all, I hoped that it wasn’t simply for the purpose of finding a more suitable place to dispose of our bodies.
The first two days of the trip were uneventful. The four of us spent most of our time sitting around the lounge, chatting about issues ranging from interstellar trade and politics to the pluses and minuses of various house pets and the best ways of preparing spiced vegetables. At various points throughout the day JhanKla would declare that it was time for a cultural experience, and we would pause to listen to music or watch a dit rec, taking turns choosing something from the lounge’s large and eclectic collection.
Bayta mostly stayed quiet during the conversations, her impassive mask firmly in place, listening closely but only rarely joining in. Her few comments were for the most part factual and neutral, providing no fresh insights into what was going on behind those dark eyes, The dit recs, on the other hand, seemed to fascinate her, particularly one of my choices, a classic Hitchcock called
At prescribed intervals, the aroma of cooking would begin to drift through the car, and in due course a servitor would appear to announce that the next meal was ready. Each day’s menu was different, every one of them first- class, and at the end of each I could practically feel another half kilo of weight falling into formation around my waist. Eventually, late in Quadrail-time evening, we would part company with an appropriate round of good-nights and return to our individual compartments.
Theoretically, at any time after that first night I could have excused myself from the group and taken a stroll forward to find the Spider with the promised data chip. Rastra had emerged from his compartment at breakfast the first morning to concede that JhanKla had indeed been correct about my position vis-a-vis Jurian criminal protocol, and that I no longer needed to remain in his custody. Still, as far as I was concerned, cheerful and stupid was still the order of the day, and for those first two days I wasn’t able to come up with a plausible excuse to even temporarily abandon the Peerage car’s luxury.
Finally, with eleven hours remaining until our arrival at Jurskala, I managed to create my opening.
“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “I’m sorry, but a proper Chattanooga nightcap can’t be prepared with anything but Jack Daniel’s.”
“None of these will do?” JhanKla asked, gesturing to his array of beverages as, behind him, one of the servitors hovered in tense silence. “I’m told there are three other Human whiskeys available.”
“And fine ones they are,” I agreed, though two were brands I’d never even heard of. “But this is a
“Very well,” he said, throwing an unreadable look at the servitor. Unreadable to me, anyway; the servitor’s flat face seemed to shrivel just fine beneath it. “I will send a servitor for a bottle.”
“Actually, I’d rather go choose it myself,” I said, getting to my feet “There are several factors to consider—age and blend, for starters—and I’ll have to see what they have in stock before I know which one to get.”
“Very well,” JhanKla said again. “I will summon YirTukOo to accompany you.”
“No, that’s all right,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to try to get a data chip from the Spiders with JhanKla’s big guard-assistant hovering over me. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rastra volunteered. “Without a ticket you’ll need someone with diplomatic authority to allow you into the first-class section.”
I suppressed a grimace. With the Spiders’ diamond-edged pass in my pocket I didn’t need his or anyone else’s help to go wherever I wanted. But I could hardly tell him that. Still, he should be easier to get rid of than YirTukOo. “Sure,” I said casually. “Let me get my jacket and we’ll go.”
Sixty seconds later I was back in the lounge, with my jacket on and a hastily scribbled note for Bayta lying on my bed:
The two cars immediately ahead of us were baggage cars, filled with stacks of crates held together by safety webbing. Unlike the hybrid baggage/passenger car I’d started this trip in, the crates here weren’t merely lined up along the walls. They were instead arranged in individual clumps, rather like tall islands surrounded by a maze of narrow access corridors that zigzagged around and between them. One cargo island per stop, I guessed, with the access corridors there in case the Spiders needed to get at the ones in back.
Ahead of the baggage cars were four third-class coaches, then the second/third-class dining car, four second- class coaches, one of the first-class coaches, and finally the first-class dining car. “Is it my imagination,” Rastra commented as we threaded our way between the restaurant tables, “or are these Quadrails getting longer?”
“It’s your imagination,” I assured him, glancing around. There were no conductors here in the dining section, but I could see one beyond the smoked-glass divider in the bar. “If there’s anything your taste-tendrils have been missing during the past two days, here’s your chance to get it.”
“Actually, I rather enjoy Halkan cuisine,” Rastra said, diplomatic as always. “Is there something I can get for you?”
“To be honest, I’ve really been missing my onion rings,” I said. “You remember, back on Vanido, the little crunchy round things some of the people in our party were always special-ordering?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said. “Shall I see if they have them?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said. “While you do that, I’ll go get the Jack Daniel’s.”
Rastra headed toward the carry-away counter, and I continued on through the divider into the bar. The Spider I’d noted, I saw now, was part of a pair, with the second standing near the end of the bar pretending to be a decorative planter.
Mentally, I shook my head. The Spiders might be terrific at running interstellar transport, but they had no sense of subtlety whatsoever. Still, Spider behavior was murky enough that I doubted anyone in here would worry about it one way or the other.
I headed toward a barstool a couple of meters in from the end where the Spider was standing, glancing around the room as I went. Three Cimmaheem were sitting off to one side with a
And there was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar.
I reached the stool and sat down. The petite server Spider tending bar took my order and disappeared into a storage area behind the bar. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the loitering conductor Spider stir and start to move my direction—
“Greetings to you, Human.”
I turned my head the other direction. The Bellido had left his table and was settling himself unsteadily onto a stool an arm’s length away from me. “Greetings to you and your kin,” I replied, hoping fervently that the Spider would have the sense to back off.
For a wonder, it did. As I turned back to the bar, I saw it take a multilegged step backward and go back to waiting. The bartender reappeared, one leg curled around a flexible plastic bottle of Jack Daniel’s, which he set on the bar in front of me. “Ah,” the Bellido said knowingly. “Stomach trouble?”
“No,” I said, frowning. “Why do you ask?”
“Jack Daniel’s,” he said, gesturing at the bottle. “An excellent stomach tonic. Very good at clearing out intestinal mites.”
“Interesting usage,” I said, studying the brown and tan facial stripe pattern on his chipmunk face. Unlike some species, Bellidos were fairly easy for human eyes to differentiate between; and up close, I was even more convinced I’d seen this one before. “We use it more like you would use aged Droskim.”
“Really,” he said, sounding surprised. “Interesting. Tell me, what brings you out into the galaxy?”
