I don't know if he was going to answer. My motion tracker suddenly flashed an alert up on my lens and I wheeled around to find a man standing in the registry's entrance. He was a big man with dark skin and a white stubble of hair and beard. The autopistol in his right hand was aimed at my face.
'Nice and slow/ he said. 'Lose the guns. And the mask.'
'What's going on? Who's in charge here?' demanded a voice from outside. It was Aemos.
The man with the gun glanced outside and then waved me ahead of him. Aemos, looking very haughty and dignified, stood in the streetway behind the parked buggy.
'Well? I am Doctor Savine, from the Royal Scholam Geologicus on Men-dalin. Is this the way Cinchare Minehead greets its guests?' I was impressed. There was a querulous tone of piqued authority. Aemos had acting talents I had never imagined.
You got papers?' asked the man with the gun, still covering me. Ban-delbi had emerged and was watching the exchange.
'Of course!' Aemos snapped. 'And I'll show them to someone in authority/
The man with the gun reached his free hand down into the neck of his mesh- reinforced coat and pulled out a polished silver badge on a neck chain. 'Enforcer Kaleil, Cinchare Minehead Security Service. I'm the only authority you'll find round here/
Aemos tutted and rapped the tip of his data-cane down on the rockcrete ground. The cane-head clicked around and cast a small hologram into the air above it: identity details, the seal of the Royal Scholam Geographicus, and a slowly revolving 3-D scan of Aemos's head.
'Okay, doctor/ nodded Kaleil. He gestured to me with the gun. 'What about this goon?'
'You think I'd travel out to this misbegotten rock without a bodyguard? This goon is Mr Horn/
This goon was putting the squeeze on my friend Bandelbi/
Aemos looked at me sternly. 'I've warned you about that, Horn! Dammit! You're not in the Mordian gang-wars now!'
Aemos turned back to Kaleil. 'He is somewhat enthusiastic. One testosterone- stimm too many, somewhere along the line. But I needed muscle, not brains, and he was cheaper than a cyber- mastiff/
Be thankful you can't see my face behind this mask, old friend, I thought.
'Okay. But keep him on a leash/ said Kaleil, bolstering his weapon. 'Let's go to the security station and you can tell me what the hell you're doing here/
'And you can tell me where the hell everyone is/ replied Aemos. Kaleil nodded and gestured for us to lead the way down the street.
'So you don't need me to detonate anyone's skull, Doctor Savine?' said a voice.
Kaleil and Bandelbi froze. Medea slunk from cover in a shutterway across the street, a Glavian needle pistol held in an unwavering two-handed grip and aimed at Kaleil's head.
'Crap!' Bandelbi gasped.
'My pilot/ Aemos said, deadpan. He flapped a hand sidelong at Medea. 'No, Cora. We're all friends here now/
Medea grinned and winked at Kaleil, sliding her weapon away inside her flight suit.
'Had you cold, Enforcer Kaleil/
Kaleil gave her a murderous glare and led us towards the security station.
The station was on the second floor of a round building on the corner of the deserted plaza. A guard-rail ran at hip-height around the office, and beyond that, inwardly-raked windows permitted a wide view down into the plaza area. Kaleil thumbed a wall-control that reduced the tinting in the glass and made the room a little brighter.
Seats were arranged around a central, circular workstation, above which glowed a holo-display. Empty ration pouches and ale bottles cluttered the surfaces of the workstation, and handwritten notes and memos had been taped along the edges of the console. Around the room were couch seats with splitting upholstery, and piles of junk. A door in the rear led through to an armoury and a ready room. The air was humid and smelled of sweat and unwashed clothes.
Kaleil took off his mesh jacket and tossed it onto a couch. He wore a grubby vest that showed off his physique and the Imperial Guard tattoos on his upper arms.
His badge of office hung down over his chest like an athlete's medal.
'Get 'em refreshment/ he told Bandelbi. The miner began swishing each of the ale bottles standing on the cowling of the workstation to find one with some contents left.
'Fresh ones/ Kaleil scolded. 'And I'm sure the doctor would prefer something softer… or harder/
'Amasec, if you have it/ said Aemos.
'Ale's fine/ smiled Medea, flopping onto a couch and folding her legs up under her.
I shook my head. 'Nothing/
Bandelbi disappeared.
Kaleil sat down backwards on one of the workstation chairs so he could fold his arms on the top of the backrest.
'Okay, doctor. What's the story?'
'I am the head of the metallurgy department at the Royal Scholam. Do you know Mendalin?'
Kaleil shook his head. 'Never been there.'
'A fine world, a noble world. Famed for its academia.' Aemos carefully took a seat next to Medea.
I stood back, by the windows. I could tell Kaleil had one eye on me.
'We are engaged in a twenty year program, commissioned by Archduke Frederik himself, to investigate the inner transition qualities of the rarest metals for… well, the applications are classified, actually. The results may improve the industrial health of Mendalin's engine yards. The archduke is a keen amateur metallurgist. He's the patron of the Royal Scholam, in fact.'
'Do tell,' murmured Kaleil.
'Phorydnum is one of the metals to be covered in our program. And this planetoid is one of the nearest sources of it. The Administratum has kindly issued me with a bond to visit Cinchare and obtain samples, and I have letters from the Lord Director of Imperial Allied to inspect the phorydnum workings. Do you wish to see them?'
Kaleil waved a dismissive hand.
'I also hoped to meet with the tech-priests stationed here in order to discuss their understanding of the properties of this precious substance.'
'You're on a fact-finding trip?'
A research mission/ said Aemos.
Bandelbi returned with three ales and an enamel cup. He carried them on a dented locker door which he was using as a tray.
'It's not good stuff,' he told Aemos, handing him the cup. 'Just ration issue grade.'
Aemos sipped it without the hint of a shudder. 'Rough, but bracing/ he announced.
Kaleil took his bottle and tugged a swig from the neck.
'You've had a wasted journey, I'm afraid/ he said. 'Emperor knows what Imperial Allied were playing at when they gave you those letters. They must know their people have pulled out/
