Mainline (49 page)

Devin's voice softened. "There were other times, other aid, not to be forgotten. Lish would want those debts honored."

The woman exhaled, a barely concealed snort, and turned her head sharply away. Devin eyed her hesitantly.

Vask was riveted by their exchange, yet the sense of time flowing swiftly past was relentless. He came to his feet. "Let's talk about this somewhere else," he prompted. "It's dangerous to stay here."

The spacer's jaw set. "I want to use the Skiffjammers, against Harric. Yavobo, too." He looked at Reva. "We should plan how to deal with them."

Reva flinched at the alien's name. "Don't be stupid about the bounty hunter. And Vask is right; let's get out of here. When IntSec guts this place they'll lock you up and everyone else they find here. Just for good measure."

Devin frowned down at the com console.

"A local derevin won't help you against Harric," she continued. "To get him, you have to strike where he lives. Offworld."

Her words drew the spacer like a magnet. "You know where he is?" he asked grimly.

Vask watched silent understanding pass from one to the other. The assassin finally spoke, eyes narrowed in calculation.

"I don't know where he is," she said coldly. "But I know how to find him."

Nomad and Zippo
ransacked the house systems at Verchiko's as soon as MazeRats were cleared from the premises. Gerick's records were not as deviously obscured as Karuu's had been, and after interrogation the MazeRat had no will to hide much of anything.

Finally the source of the cargo conspiracy was laid bare. Selmun authorities were set to work shutting down the local Harric network, and Obray marshaled his agents for immediate transfer to Bekavra.

Jorris led that afternoon's sweep through Lairdome 5, a raid made urgent by a fisherman's garbled report of an attack there. The place looked like someone would return at any moment, but the Holdout's computer systems were wiped and her Net records deleted.

After pressure and bribes, street rats confessed that Skiffjammers had left the premises a few hours before, taking some goods with them. Of Shiran Lish and her usual companions, they had no word, nor could they be persuaded to share one.

Reva addressed a
blank com screen. "You feel like interrupting your vacation?"

"You have work for me?"
"If you want it. It's involved. Risky, too."
"You said the magic words. Let me call you back on a secure channel.''
The com link went dead. A moment later Reva took FlashMan's incoming call.

"So, babe—what would make you happy today?"
the netrunner asked.

"Two things, one small, one big."
"The small one is—?"

"Trace a call code. It connects with a man named Adahn Harric, a crime boss, so I'd bet there's ICE on the line. It relays to another subsector, I don't know where. I need a thorough trace, down to the address where the code originates, if you can get it."

"Riding relays is tedious. I charge extra for tedium.

"Charge extra for the ICE, too."

"I will. When do you need this?"

"An hour ago."

"Time is money. Rush jobs cost more, haven't you heard?"

"You charge for everything, Flash."

"Why, so I do. What's the big thing I can bill you for?"

Reva took a breath and then plunged on. "When we know where Harric is, we're going after him. I want to take him down."

"Can't help with your line of work."

"You don't have to. Adahn runs a little empire, and what he doesn't manage with street muscle he handles through the Net. That's where I need you."

"Let me guess. Start with the basics, like security breakdown on his residence, travel plans, general eavesdropping, then move on to infiltrate his operations net...."

"Information is all we need. No file wiping, no reprogramming."

"Aww."
The pout was drawled.
"I'm disappointed. This sounds too easy.''

"It's not. His systems are tight, and he has deckers as well as ICE guarding against infiltration. You can count on it."

"Hm. Then I'm not so sad. I'll have to be on-site for that, wherever he is.''

"So will I."

"Oh, joy. Travel expenses."
Flash's grin could be heard in his voice.
"What do you want all this info for?"

"In the right hands, it will make life very difficult for him."

A mirthful cackle poured through the com speaker.
"That's it? You're going to make life
difficult
for him?"

"He had Lish killed."

The words hung in the air, stilling the decker's wisecracks. "I
didn't know.''

Reva let that pass. "I'll put your security briefing to good use, don't worry about that."

"Ah, Reva,''
the netrunner sighed, "
'you are as constant as the

sun and moons.''
His tone changed abruptly, all business once again.
"Time, as they say, is wasting. What's that code?"

She told him the number.
"I'm on it."
he said.
"Later."

Reva let white noise fill her ears for a time before thumbing the com link off. As constant as the sun and moons. Right.

Not anymore.

If she acted as she always had, she would be after Yavobo this very minute. But now she was stopping herself. Vask and Devin thought her plan to go after Adahn wise and well reasoned. In reality, she harbored a guilty secret, the true reason for that decision.

She feared Yavobo.

Never before had an opponent scared her, she who was supremely confident of her own skills. Who had been uncaring of death, for the feeling that people were ghosts of real counterparts elsewhere had, in some way, extended to herself. Who was to say that she would really die, when she could shift Lines? Who cared if she lived? No one.

Until Lish, and Vask, and even, yes, Devin. Now a few people mattered to her, and she mattered to them. Somewhere along the way she had lost her indifference, the shield that kept her invulnerable, and cold-blooded as one must be to kill, uncaringly, for a living. The last of that Reva had died in Lairdome 5 right along with Lish. The woman who remained was uncertain about life, about direction. About her ability to kill.

Yavobo scared the hell out of this Reva. He was better than her. He'd demonstrated that already, several times over. Her grief and anger demanded a confrontation with the Aztrakhani. Her sense of self-preservation screamed at her to stay away.

Adahn was the only target that was left, the one ultimately responsible for Lish's murder. And so Reva put this self-appointed task on her agenda, to focus her attention and her rage, and to keep her mind off Yavobo. To take her far away from a murderous alien who didn't know when to quit.

The thought of flight bothered her pride, but the thought of battle with the alien knotted her stomach. Better to concentrate on other things, like getting off R'debh and dealing with Harric.

Before the bounty hunter could find her again.

Yavobo slinked from shadow to shadow with a desert hunter's cautious tread. Avelar's Kriezor Shipyard offered sufficient concealment for his nighttime prowl, if he used it wisely. He skirted pools of activity and flitted between silent workshops, seeking just the right vantage point for his reconnaissance of the
Fortune.
It would not do to betray his presence to the scattered security guards or the stray yard worker.

Yavobo was surprised to find a welter of activity around the holed freighter. Reva had come here with friends that afternoon, but surely she could not still be aboard. Needing to locate his enemy, and hoping to understand what the bustle portended, he risked spying out the offices around the work area.

He peered in window after window, until he spotted the assassin and the others, drinking osk in a refit supervisor's office.

For a moment Yavobo froze, weighing this opportunity to challenge his enemy here and now. But the traffic in and out of the office was too heavy; the trio reviewed ship plans, talked with workmen, argued with the refit super....

This was hardly the privacy he needed for a Blood Oath duel. A later time, then. He retreated to the arm of an unused crane, where he could watch both office and drydock.

Massive worklights flooded the docking cradle with artificial daylight, showing the
Fortune
a-crawl with human technicians and labor mechos. The drive units were released from their interface and lifted clear of the drydock gantries. He grunted as he recognized what was happening.

Instead of repairing damage to the ship, Shiran was replacing the crippled units entirely. The warrior's eye was drawn by a hoisting derrick swiveling about. Its lifting arms held two new drive units, of the same modular design as those just removed.

He frowned as the import of that sank in. The
Fortune
would be lift-ready by morning. With the resources of an entire shipyard at hand, round-the-clock labor, and a frighteningly exorbitant bill, a ship of this modest size could be rehabbed and spaceworthy in no time at all. It was, after all, the great selling point of Sa'adani modular design. Ease of repair.

Yavobo's lip curled. If the soul-stealer sought to evade him in this way, she would be disappointed. He looked toward the office many meters below, glimpsed her well-lit figure pausing in front of a window. He studied her form with unblinking eyes until she moved back out of sight.

No matter. Whether she left the shipyard on foot or left in the freighter, he would be prepared to follow.

Kastlin studied the woman he was supposed to bring in, sooner or later. She poured another cup of osk from the dispenser by the window, stretched catlike to ease her tension, and returned to the table, blowing on the steaming drink to cool it. Small lines around her eyes seemed deeper, a crease between her brow sign that fatigue and tension were taking their tolls. She sat, the charcoal gray bodysuit that she'd worn all day blending into the drab tones of the refit super's office furniture.

It was best if he bowed out. This association had become too compelling, and now he was being carried along on a vengeance mission that he didn't want to know about. A hunt that would amount to one more murder planned and executed by the assassin.

It was something he couldn't aid, and perversely couldn't bring himself to walk away from.

As Kastlin grappled with indecision, the refit supervisor stomped back into the office. He tugged a com set from his head and spread flimsies on the table before Devin. Modifications were discussed, Shiran pointing out two hardpoints he wanted changed, the super shaking his graying head in return.

"Don't have an EMP gun for that unit," he said. "That's special order."

Devin shrugged. "Then make them both ion cannons, and boost the battery power reserve."

The man made suitable notations on his datapad, then left to oversee the workcrews.

Shiran cocked his head at the Fixer. "I don't suppose you have gunnery experience, Kastlin?"

Vask shook his head, distracted.

"You can get it if you want it."

"You've hired on 'Jammers for that."

The humor went out of Devin's smile. "So what are you going to do to help out on this run?"

That barb was unlooked for, and Kastlin regarded the Captain sharply. "There's not a lot I can do on board ship. I think you know I'm not a spacer."

Devin grimaced. "That's evident."

"That's not why I'm coming along."

The trader fixed Kastlin with a hard stare. "Then why
are
you coming along?"

The habit of acting in character as Fixer was strong, and that persona flared immediately. "What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Lish was my friend, too."

"Vent that. We've been sitting here all evening, talking about the ship, about supplies, about our plans, and you haven't had two words to say about any of it. Are you in? Are you helping? Or maybe you're just along for the ride?"

It had been a long day for all of them, and stress told in Devin's attitude. He had become more curt since Lish's murder, since their plan of action had taken hold of him with purpose. It was no reason to bristle at Vask, though for a calculating moment Kastlin saw he could play this either way. Shrug off the big man's remarks and go along with the plans, or take offense and make this his opportunity to bow out of Reva's newest assassination plot.

If he lost contact with her now, it might be for the best. He had no hard evidence of her past history as assassin, except for the Lanzig hit. If he did his duty anyway, she would be rehabbed for the Lanzig murder. The woman who would emerge from that process would not be the Reva he knew.

And yes, he admitted to himself, that was a concern. She wasn't his friend, exactly—could never be as long as she knew him only under the pretense of his street guise—but she had come to mean far more than a common criminal ought, to an Imperial agent.