She said, “How do the spaceport workers get inside?”
“Workers?” Kat asked.
“The cleaners, food servers, maintenance people with dirty hands or grease on their coveralls?” she said.
“Tunnels,” Bert said as he made a sudden half turn as if he understood her intent.
His foreclaw indicated a building like most others in the neighborhood, but larger. Above the entrance, a logo of a company had a spaceship lifting off. Or landing. People wearing work-clothes entered. Others exited.
“Right, you are,” the captain said. “Follow me.”
She strode confidently to the entrance. A woman ahead of them wore the uniform of a janitor. Her cuffs were threadbare, her shoe soles thin from wear. The captain moved to her side. “I wish to speak privately with you.”
The others held back.
The woman said worriedly, “About what? I have done nothing wrong.”
“Are you happy in your job?”
After a hesitation, the woman said, “Not really. It’s better than nothing. I got stranded on this dirtball by a man who was going to help me work in a casino as a singer. He lied.”
“Where are you from?” the captain asked.
“Evansdale, ever hear of it?”
“Nope,” she said curtly. “Want to go home?”
The woman stumbled to a stop. A stern and distrustful expression filled her face.
“Relax,” the captain said as she pulled her wrist-comp and flashed her identification, which revealed she was the captain of a trader-ship. “We want to avoid the police at the gates. We have done no harm to anyone, but they are insistent, and we are trying to avoid everyone. Help us get inside and I’ll pay for your passage to your home world, and maybe a bit more for your trouble.”
The cost of passage on a starship exceeded the pay the woman would receive in her menial job in a decade. A pained expression crossed her face as she debated with herself. She was thinking and considering refusing. The risk was too great. She was going to turn down the offer unless otherwise convinced because she was afraid of being caught and the consequences it would cost.
The captain turned to Kat with an intense expression as if trying to draw her attention. The captain wanted Kat to give the woman a positive mental nudge. Receiving a nod from Kat that she understood, the captain turned back to the janitor.
After a long pause, the janitor said, “I don’t want to, but I do want to go home. It can be done; I mean getting you into the spaceport. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“Evansdale, huh?” Stone tapped her wrist-comp and turned the screen to face the woman. “A ship leaves for there before the sun sets on Roma today. Shall I purchase the tickets in your name?”
“You might redeem it after you’re inside,” the janitor said cautiously.
“In that case, I’ll transfer the funds to you right now, if that is satisfactory,” Stone said. “Once we are inside, there will be another two-thousand credit transaction when we are ready to depart. In the worst case, you go home, and I keep the two-grand. But if it works out and I am honest, you have the passage and two-thousand credits. You win either way.”
Kat smiled as she “felt” the woman change her mind. She was going to help.
The woman hooked her arm in the captain’s and strolled inside the building together as if they were long-lost friends. The other three followed. Her ID badge opened the doors, and nobody inside objected when they all entered.
Inside was a maze of hallways and cluttered offices, doors with peeled paint revealing past colors, and rooms piled to the ceiling with castoff junk. Broken ladders, chairs with missing legs, old desks, mops, and piles of storage boxes filled empty areas. The strong scent of industrial cleaners permeated the air. The few people inside were busy at their tasks or resting from a hard shift.
The janitor took them directly to a side door and palmed the lock to open it. At her instruction, they quickly crowded inside. There were shelves of uniforms for the cleaning crew, the sizes neatly labeled, a row of benches to sit on while changing, and lockers, most without locks. Within moments, everyone wore clean uniforms and blank nametags—but whoever looked at the names on them to notice?
The woman said, “If someone asks, which probably won’t happen, you are new trainees assigned to me for the day. Say nothing else. Act as if you speak another language.”
A downward slanting slide-walk carried them along a dark, dank, tunnel that smelled of urine. Graffiti covered the walls, layer after layer from years of illicit painters. Ahead and behind were other workers wearing various uniforms. Kat eased closer beside the captain and whispered, “How did you know she would help us?”
“Her clothing was worn, she looked unhappy.”
“No, I mean that she could get us inside the spaceport.”
“There are always back doors for the workers of the world. Wealthy travelers do not want to see those who clean, repair, or serve them. I took a chance. This is not the first spaceport back door I’ve been in.”
Kat accepted that.
The captain said softly, “Did you help her decide to help us?”
Kat meekly nodded.
“Good.”
The slide-walk evened out before it angled upward. At the end stood three uniformed guards inspecting arrivals at the landing. The janitor hissed in a scared tone, “They’ve never been there before.”
The captain patted her on the shoulder and said to Kat as she raised her eyebrows to convey the meaning behind her words, “Do those guards see who they’re looking for down that next hallway?”
Kat turned her attention to the
