information, I would of course be grateful for it.”
Slade shook his head. “None, Dam’ Heikki, I assure you.”
“Then I’ll continue to go on the assumption that it was a routine accident.”
“What will happen if it proves not to be routine?” Slade asked.
“That’s really up to my employers,” Heikki answered. “I assume Dam’ FitzGilbert can tell you more about that.”
Slade waved the answer aside. “I didn’t mean in terms of company policy, I meant in terms of what you can do for us. If, for example, the LTA’s crew were part of some conspiracy, is there any chance you could still find the wreck?”
Heikki nodded. “Oh, yes. It would probably take longer, but I think we’d find it in the end. Even a commando demolition charge would leave some traces—a multi-ton chunk of fused metals, for one.”
FitzGilbert grinned at that, but said nothing.
“Under those circumstances, we wouldn’t be able to tell you much beyond the fact that there had been sabotage,” Heikki went on, “but even that’s something.”
“Quite.” Slade pushed himself slowly to his feet, signaling the end of the interview. He was a big man, bigger than Heikki had realized, but there was muscle under the unfashionable softness. “I hope I’ll be on planet long enough to receive at least a preliminary report first hand, Dam’ Heikki.”
It was an order, despite the velvet phrasing. Heikki smiled, and said, “I can’t make any promises.” Slade frowned, but before he could say anything more, Heikki had nodded to him and to FitzGilbert. “Dam-i-ser, good day.”
On her return to the hostel, Heikki’s temper was not improved by the announcement that Alexieva had accepted the provisional contract. She did her best to keep herself under control, but despite her best efforts snapped at Djuro until the little man raised his hands in surrender.
“What did you expect her to do?” he asked reasonably. “If you didn’t want to hire her, you shouldn’t’ve made the offer.”
Heikki took a deep breath. “I know. Look, I’m sorry.”
“What happened with this person from Tremoth?” Djuro asked, after a moment.
Heikki shrugged. “I think—” she began, and broke off, frowning now in puzzlement. “I’m not sure what he wanted, precisely. To find out how we were going about the job, certainly, but I don’t know why he’d care. And I think I made a bad mistake dealing with him.”
“Oh?” Djuro sat quite still, neither consoling nor condemning. Quite suddenly, Heikki wished Santerese were there instead, but put the thought aside.
“Yeah. He asked me if I had a brother, and I told him no.”
“So?” Djuro said, after a moment.
Heikki looked up, briefly startled, then managed a rueful grin. “I do have one, you see. And he used to work for this troubleshooter—”
“I don’t mind not knowing you’ve got a brother,” Djuro said, “but you might’ve told me we were dealing with a troubleshooter.”
“Sorry.” Heikki spread her hands. “You’d expect them to send one, if the matrix is as important as they say.”
“True. So why’d you tell him you didn’t have a brother?” Djuro’s voice was patience itself, but Heikki could hear the annoyance under the neutral words.
“Because I cut all contact with my family twenty years ago, because if I had a choice I wouldn’t have a brother, and because I think of myself as not having a ‘ brother.” Heikki glared at the monitor without really seeing the lights rippling across its surface. “I know I should’ve explained that, but there wasn’t a chance.”
“I doubt it’ll matter,” Djuro said, after a moment. “If it comes up again, you can always tell him what you told me. It’s a good enough explanation.”
“Thanks,” Heikki said, rather sourly, and took a deep breath, putting aside the whole subject. “So, did you get the results from Ciceron? And where’s Jock, anyway?”
“He and Jan went to look at the fliers we rented,” Djuro answered. “The sims are in the boards, and we’ve worked out a tentative course. I spoke with Alexieva just before you came in, so I’ve got her input as well,”
“Great,” Heikki said, and reached for the nearest workboard. She fingered its miniature keyboard to display the projected course, traced its progress from the Lowlands airfield up across the scrub and then into the wayback, following the winding course of the Asilas river. The map program Djuro had been using was very good: the topography that unrolled beneath her fingers was almost uncannily like the land she remembered from her youth. “When do you think we can leave?”
“The day after tomorrow,” Djuro answered promptly.
“Good. Get in touch with the others, have them meet us at the airfield at—when’s sunrise?”
Djuro pulled out his data lens, glanced sideways into its depths. “Five fifty-six.”
Heikki closed her eyes, trying to remember the weather tables she had studied on the journey to Iadara. The normal morning turbulence usually burned off within two hours of sunrise. “Have them meet us at the hangar at eight; we’ll plan to take off at nine.”
Djuro nodded. “You’re the boss, Heikki.”
“I know it,” she said, but to empty air. She sighed, not entirely displeased, and reached again for the workboard, recalling the map. It shouldn’t be too bad a flight, she thought, and started for the workroom.
CHAPTER 5
The two Iadarans were waiting at the airfield, just outside the entrance to the control tower in the fitful shade of a canvas awning. The same hot wind that tossed the canvas up and sideways, snapping it against its grommets, sent little swirls of dust across the hard-metalled field. Heikki saw Nkosi pause, assessing its course and strength, then nod to himself and go on.
Alexieva lifted her hand in greeting as they approached, but did not otherwise move. Sebasten-Januarias, who had been squatting on the paving to her right, rose easily to his feet, Firster coat resettling in folds around his thin body. He wore the headscarf, too, spilling loosely across his shoulders, and Heikki saw Alexieva’s grim face shift slightly, unreadably, as the younger man came forward to greet them. Oh, Christ, Heikki thought, not that trouble again.
Nkosi had seen that change of expression, too, and nodded to both Iadarans. “Let’s get the pre-flight, Jan, shall we?” he said, and drew the younger man into the building in his wake.
“Is this everything you need?” Heikki stared at the single metal strapped crate that sat at Alexieva’s feet.
“My mapping console and my disks,” Alexieva answered. “I figured you’d have anything else I wanted.”
Let’s hope so, Heikki thought. I wouldn’t want to rely so obviously on the kindness of strangers. She said aloud, “Load it with our stuff, then, and we’ll start loading the jumper.”
Alexieva obeyed without speaking, and perched herself and the crate on top of the equipment already piled on the ho-crawl’s tow. Heikki glanced at Djuro, who said, “I’ll bring the jumper around to the ramp.”
“Coward,” Heikki said, under her breath, and surprised a wry grin from the little man. She swung herself into the cab of the ho-crawl and turned it cautiously toward the access road, one hand on the brake to compensate for the drag of the tow. In the side mirror, she could see Alexieva balancing on top of the crates, and wondered why the guide had chosen such an awkward position. But then, the woman seemed uncomfortable around other people; Heikki shrugged to herself, and concentrated on bringing the ho-crawl and its tow to a stop alongside the waiting ramp. It was ready for use, locking legs down, conveyor belt already pointing into the sky at what looked to be the proper angle. Heikki smiled, and cut the engine. Its shrill whine faded, to be replaced by the deeper pulse of the jumper’s multiple power plants as it nosed its way out of the hangar. Heikki swung herself out of the cab again, pulling her cups over her ears, and saw Alexieva wince at the growing noise.
“Get in the cab,” Heikki called, and pointed broadly. The other woman frowned for a moment, then did as she was told. Heikki walked out onto the hard-metalled strip, squinting a little from the dust and the sun, and stood
