intended irony. Even then, however, the wiry woman controlled her temper, and slid gracefully from the ‘cat.
“You’ll receive my bid in the morning.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Heikki answered, but Alexieva had already turned away and was hurrying across the dusty ground toward the building’s single entrance. Thunder growled in the distance, and Heikki hastily shut the ‘cat’s door. The rain fell just as the seal cut in.
The downpour began to slow as she eased the ‘cat into the last series of turns that led to the Lo-Moth hostel. She made a face—perfect timing once again— and swung the ‘cat onto the ramp of the underground entrance. Water sheeted up to either side, and she found herself hoping that at least one of Lo-Moth’s employees had been in range. She shook that thought away, and concentrated on finding the workbay that had been reserved for her equipment. It was well-marked, and surprisingly convenient, within twenty-five meters both of the main cargo lift and the entrance to the hostel itself. It was also empty, except for the diagnostic computer sitting against one wall. So Sten’s not back yet, she thought, and slid the ‘cat neatly into the smallest of the available spaces.
Somewhat to her surprise, there was no attendant in sight. She levered herself out of the ‘cat, half expecting someone to appear at any moment, and busied herself hooking the charger cables to the ‘cat’s capacitors. I wish Sten were back, she thought, and glanced around the enormous space. Most of the other bays were empty; those that were not had an oddly suspended look to them, as though the ‘cats and triangle-wheeled crawlers had not been used in some time. And still there was no one in sight. I wonder, she thought suddenly, if they did search our crates. Kasib had put them in the sealed storage area, at the hostel’s lowest level; it would be the work of a moment to find out. She glanced around again, this time looking for nonhuman surveillance, and was rewarded by the sight of two palm-sized cameras hung from the ceiling grid. One was focussed on her bay, the other on the entrance to the hostel. Quite deliberately, she stepped out of the first camera’s range, and a third glided into view almost at once, swivelling from side to side in search of any movement. Right, then, she thought, and started boldly for the cargo lift.
Before she reached it, an almost invisible door opened in the wall beside it, and Kasib appeared. “Can I help you, Dam’ Heikki?”
Several remarks sprang instantly to mind, and none of them were helpful. Heikki curbed herself sternly, and turned to face him. “Yes. I understand this leads to sealed storage?”
“Yes, Dam’, that’s right.” Kasib’s eyes were fixed on her unblinking, one hand in the pocket of his shapeless coveralls, and Heikki felt a sudden chill of fear. He has a blaster, she thought suddenly, irrationally, and cast about for something to say that would distract him.
“Will there be pallets down there, or will we have to use grav-units?”
“There’ll be pallets if you want, or you can use the units,” Kasib answered, his expression easing slightly. He slipped his hand from his pocket, hooked it instead in the loop of his empty toolbelt. In spite of herself, Heikki let out a sigh of relief, and knew he saw.
“Anything else, Dam’?”
Heikki shook her head, irrationally annoyed at her own fear. “No, that’ll be all.” She made herself turn her back on him, though the space between her shoulder blades tingled all the way to the hostel entrance. She sighed again as the door sealed itself behind her, her fear giving way completely to anger. I’m behaving like an idiot, an inexperienced coward, jumping at shadows; it was impossible he had a blaster, or—if he had one— that he would use it…. She paused then, just inside the archway leading to the hostel’s main lobby, anger draining away. I am not a fool, I’ve been in bad situations before—and I think he had his blaster in his hand then, ready to use it. It could’ve been security, but I want to make damn sure Sten knows about it before he goes down to collect our things.
The lobby was empty of human beings, though a robot cleaner hummed to itself as it polished the mosaic floor. The concierge clicked and sprang to life as she passed its column, too-perfect voice saying, “Dam’ Heikki.”
She stopped, turning to face its cameras. “Yes?”
“There is a message cube waiting in your suite. A private and personal message arrived for you on the fast mail.”
“Thanks,” Heikki said, and then, because that was not a response the program would understand, “Its arrival has been noted.”
“Thank you, Dam’ Heikki.” The machine went dormant again, leaving her alone in the empty space.
The unnerving quiet continued as she made her way across the lobby to the second bank of lifts, and all the way up to the fifth floor. I can’t think when I was last in a place this empty, she thought—if I ever was. It’s not natural…. But then she had reached the suite, and the cube that waited in the center of the living room floor. It was a standard mailgram, a block of super-tough translucent plastic, each of its faces a quarter-meter square. Santerese, Heikki thought, her spirits lifting in spite of herself, and crossed to the workroom . to retrieve her personal remote. After a moment’s hesitation, she brought the minisec as well, and triggered its field. She knelt on the thick carpet beside the cube, feeling across its unmarked faces for the shallow depression that would receive the key. When she’d found it, she sat back on her heels, adjusted the remote to her private mailcode, and laid it into the keyhole. The mailgram glowed, and projected a hissing cloud of static. Heikki sighed, and reached through the swirl of light to touch a second codesequence.
The picture cleared then, and the hiss became a familiar voice, backed by the gentle sound of waves. Santerese stood on what appeared to be a low balcony overlooking a pale grey beach and a brilliant blue ocean, twin moons hanging in the daylit sky behind her shoulder. There were single-sail boards in the water behind her, sport craft rather than anything useful, and strollers in brightly colored impractical draperies moved along the beach below. Despite her surroundings, Santerese was scowling, and Heikki’s eyebrows rose.
“Well, doll,” the projection said, “I guess you can see I’m not at the seamine, nor am I likely to be there. You won’t believe this one, but apparently PAMCo is also owned by Tremoth Astrando, and they have some kind of corporate policy about not hiring one company twice on a job like this. They’ve got some locals who say they can do the work—” Her voice was brisk and contemptuous. “—so they’ve paid the cancellation fees and transport, and as an apology they offered me and Corsell a five-day at the better of the two resorts—which they also happen to own, by the way. I’ve accepted, and so has Corsell, but I don’t mind telling you I’m pretty pissed.”
The image paused then, Santerese visibly trying to calm herself. She forced a smile finally, and continued. “This means I’ll be available if you want me for Iadara— let me know asap, I don’t have to stay here, darling, that’s for sure. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, but it’s a funny way to do business, if you ask me.” Santerese paused again, her smile more natural now. “The Tremoth people were pretty decent about it all, gave me a long apology and explanation-of-policy, and sent a higher-up to do that, complete with staff. Speaking of which, do you have any kin who work for Tremoth? The guy’s liaison was also named Heikki, Galler Heikki.”
There was more to the message, but Heikki did not hear. Oh, yes, she thought, her mouth slewing sideways to keep in a bitter laugh, I have kin who works for Tremoth, a brother, Marshallin, named Galler Heikki. My twin— and, oh, God, I did think I was rid of him, would never have to see the son of a bitch again. And I’ll bet you money he was responsible for your losing the job, the little bastard. He could—would—have guessed, from the name, who your partner was, it’s not exactly a common name. . . . She shook those thoughts away, forcing the memory back where it belonged, and reached into the image to adjust the projection. The image blurred briefly, and then reformed.
“—Galler Heikki. Anyway, no big deal, but it would be like you not to mention a relative. Do let me know if I’m needed for Iadara.” Santerese gestured vaguely at the scene around her. “This is all very nice, but a tiny bit dull. Love you, doll, and keep in contact.” The image fuzzed, and vanished.
Heikki reached into the cone of light and picked up the remote. The mailgram shut down automatically, and she did not restart it. Sent by mailship, she thought dully. I suppose the Marshallin’s making sure she gets to spend some time at this resort—but she could not muster either amusement or annoyance about something so unimportant. So Galler’s back, she thought, and on Pleasaunce and in contact with my partner. Well, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep him from getting any closer. She reached out then with reluctant decision, and triggered the erase function, wiping Santerese’s message from the mailgram’s memory.
“You fucking bastard, Galler,” she said aloud, and set the cube outside the door for the cleaning robots to retrieve.
