“Thank you,” said Spider warily.
Tal took a small green case from his pocket and thumbed it open. “This contains several riccardis.”
“Several what?”
“Riccardis are short-range communication devices. They’re easy to carry and virtually impossible to eavesdrop on.”
“That’s interesting, I suppose—”
“The receiver, you see, is implanted in the brain, and it’s tuned only to one sender. Nobody else even knows when you’ve gotten a message.”
Spider was not slow to see where this was going. “Thanks for thinking of me, really, but I’m due back in Inventory—”
“It’s not your shift,” said Tal, with a relentless grasp of his minion’s schedule.
“—all this overtime for the Food and Beverage sections—”
The installer looked from one of them to the other uncertainly. “Do I have to come back?”
“No,” said Tal. “Ignore him. Get your instruments ready.”
Eshlava set the briefcase on a countertop and flipped it open. Over his shoulder, he said, “This will only take a moment, cyr, I assure you. It’s quite a routine procedure.”
Spider eyed the briefcase, with its forest of gleaming metal tips inside, then walked over, grabbed Tal by the arm, and pulled him away. “This is proscribed technology, isn’t it?”
Tal appeared faintly amused. “I suppose if you want to be literal about it.”
“I do!”
Tal gave a distant nod to two passing Transport sergeants. “Picky, picky,” he said, using a phrase Adrian had turned on him often enough when he objected to the Protector’s plans. It was pleasant to throw it back at these humans.
The effect on Spider was certainly satisfying. A look of acute frustration came over his face, and he grabbed Tal’s elbow again. “Is it Outsider-generated? Then it’s a tool of Satan, by definition! I’m educated, Tal, I went to school, I know what the rules are! Damn it, the priest’ll have me standing in line at the recycler again, and I didn’t like waiting the last time—”
“Spider. Relax. Nobody will ever know. This nice gentleman will go into that empty supervisor’s booth with you, install the riccardi, and five minutes later I’ll be taking him back to Baret Station. He hasn’t even been registered as a visitor.”
“And that’s another thing!” He lowered his voice dramatically. “This guy’s a nathy, Tal—I don’t know what he’s been taking, but he’s been on it too long.”
“His hands don’t need to be steady. His tools will take care of the fine points. Now let’s go, I’ve got a lot to do.” Spider didn’t move. Tal sighed. “Who got you off the recycler line last time?”
Looking as though something were stuck in his throat, Spider walked over to the installer. “Will it hurt?”
“No,” said Tal and the installer together.
Then Spider and Mynor Cat Eshlava, and Mynor Cat Eschlava’s black briefcase, all went into the supervisor’s booth. As they walked away, Tal said. “Stay in the booth once you’re outfitted, Spider, and call me on the link. It’s a visual. I’ll be in Bay Blue.”
Spider nodded, palely. In a we-who-are-about-to-die spirit he gazed frankly at the installer’s face, where the image of a slender power driver was etched in silver, crossed by a red quill pen whose point touched a microchip. He said, “That’s an interesting tattoo. Would you mind if I examined it more closely when we got in the booth?”
“Not at all, cyr, not at all. You’re most flattering.”
Ten minutes later Tal stood in Bay Blue with the installer at his side. Spider’s face was on the screen.
“Well?” asked Tal.
“I’m alive,” said Spider. Tal reached over to the link and cut the outgoing sound. He took a small disk from the case in his pocket.
The installer said, “I could implant a receiver in you, too, if you like.”
“I don’t need one.” Into the disk, Tal said, “Can you hear me?”
“Of course I can,” said Spider. “You’re standing right next to the link.”
“You don’t need to speak so loudly,” said Eshlava. “If you like, you can hold the disk to your throat and subvocalize. It makes quite a secure arrangement.”
Tal put the disk to his throat and spoke very quietly. “Riccardis are useful devices, Spider. They’re for organizations who don’t want their employees to have any personal life to speak of.”
“Thanks. Thanks very much.”
“It could be worse. There are versions with pain and pleasure enhancements. Wasn’t I nice not to pick one of those?”
“Probably cost more,” said Spider.
Tal turned to the installer. “It seems to be working. Thank you for your time. What do I owe you?”
“Five hundred units,” said the stationer cheerfully. “And, of course, a ride back.”
They turned away from the link and began walking toward the shuttle in Blue. “Hey,” called Spider. “What about me?”
They reached the edge of the bay. The door to the supervisor’s booth clanged and footsteps scrambled over the walkway. “What about me?” called Spider, pausing halfway down the steel steps that led to the deck floor.
They looked up. “Nothing,” said Tal.
“What do you mean, nothing? My life just changed, didn’t it?”
The installer glanced up at him, his watery eyes sympathetic. “I assure you, cyr, there are no lasting medical effects.”
“Just a voice in my head I can’t shut off.”
Tal said, “You won’t be able to hear me from the station, Spider. Of course, when I come back,” he smiled, “you’ll be the first to know.”
“Well, the hell with you, too.” Spider finished descending the steps and walked swiftly away toward the exits. “Enjoy your vacation,” he threw over his shoulder.
“My, your friend is volatile, isn’t he?” Cat Eshlava watched Spider stalk across the Transport deck. “Is this your vacation, cyr? I can’t say I ever thought of Baret Station as a holiday spot for tourists.”
They’d reached the ramp at Blue, and Tal motioned for Eshlava to precede him. “Oh, you don’t do it justice,” said Tal.
The installer looked puzzled. “Well, your tastes are certainly in the minority. Unless I misunderstand you, cyr. Perhaps your friend was joking?”
“Tell me, mynor, speaking as a technical expert, have you ever heard of a two-way riccardi?”
Eshlava frowned. “There’s no such thing, cyr, I certainly would have heard of it if
