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Authors: Timothy Zahn

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BOOK: The Icarus Hunt
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“I’ve had more practice than I care to remember,” Nicabar grunted, pulling the charred shirt material away from his shoulder with stoic disregard for the pain.

“What about you, McKell?” Everett went on as he opened his own pad and arranged it carefully over his burn. “I seem to remember you being the one we were charging in to rescue in the first place.”

“I’m all right,” I assured him. “I could use a painkiller for my head, but they hadn’t started on the really rough stuff yet. Aside from Ixil, I think I’m probably in the best shape of all of us.”

“I wouldn’t tempt fate that way if I were you,” Nicabar warned. “Everett?”

“I’m ready,” Everett said, wincing once as he pressed the edges of the pad firmly into place against his leg. “Though I may need some help until the anesthetic takes effect.”

I sighed. We were, without a doubt, just exactly the right men to be challenging the giant octopus of Patth economic domination. Humanity was counting on us, and humanity was in trouble. “Tell me some more good news,” I said sourly.

“As a matter of fact, I can,” he said, digging out a bottle of painkillers and tossing it to me. “I’ve found us a safe haven. A temporary one, at least.”

I frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I got in touch with a friend of mine on my way over from the ship,” he said, dropping his voice. “Called him on that StarrComm station by the tram lines. He’s a retired doctor, one of my instructors when I went through med training. He’s running a private ski and ice-climbing place now on a quiet little resort world about five days away, complete with a small but full-service landing area. Fuel supply, landing-pad repulsors, perimeter lift-assist grav beams—the works.”

“He’ll be used to private yachts there,” Nicabar pointed out doubtfully. “Can he handle a ship the size of the
Icarus
?”

“I spelled out the dimensions and he says he can,” Everett said. “And it’s off-season there right now, which means the place is deserted.”

“Other towns?” Ixil asked.

“Nearest is two hundred kilometers away,” Everett said. “We’ll have time to finish the camouflage work on the ship and give all these burns some healing time.” He lowered his voice still further. “We might even be able to get the stardrive working.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” I said. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Everett said. “He has no idea who or what we are—I told him you were a group of investors interested in buying into resorts like his and pouring expansion money into the more successful ones. He won’t even be there—he’s heading out in two days on an equipment-buying trip. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

I looked at Ixil and lifted my eyebrows questioningly. He shrugged slightly in reply, his expression mirroring my own thoughts. Even if this turned out to be a trap, given that the Patth were already breathing down our necks we didn’t have a lot to lose. At least with a trap set the Patth and Iykams might not be so quick to flail around with blunt objects, a restraint that would not only give my head a chance to heal but would also automatically raise our chances of slipping or fighting our way out of it. “All right,” I said. “We’ll try it. Where is this place?”

Everett hesitated, glancing around the darkened room. “I don’t know,” he said. “Out here in the open—you know.”

“I want to know now,” I told him, moving close and putting my ear to his lips. “Just whisper it.”

He sighed, his breath unpleasantly warm on my cheek. “It’s on Beyscrim,” he whispered. “The northwest section of the Highlandia continent.”

“Got it,” I said, getting a grip under his arm. He was right; even whispering it in here was risky. But I needed to know, and I needed to know before we got back to the ship. “Okay.
Now
we can go.”

CHAPTER
21

After all the firepower that had been expended inside the club, I’d half expected to find a wall of local police surrounding the place as we slipped out the emergency exit and down the alley onto the crowded k’Barch streets. But to my mild surprise not a single badgeman was visible anywhere among the colorfully dressed celebrants. Either they just hadn’t made it to the scene yet because of the crowds or because they were tied up with other more pressing business, or else a little good-natured gunplay wasn’t remarkable enough during the Grand Feast to warrant official attention.

Especially without the club’s ownership making any complaints; and it was for sure that Ambassador Nask wouldn’t have risked losing Patth control of the
Icarus
by calling the local authorities in.

Which was just as well, considering how much trouble we had making our escape even without governmental interference. Now that it was full night, the crowds filling the streets were at least twice as dense as they’d been when I’d first arrived, and it seemed like
every third step one of us managed to get jostled or bumped in a tender spot by some boisterous or flat-out drunk reveler. Even the high-quality painkillers and anesthetic pads Cameron had stocked the
Icarus
with could only do so much, and by the end of the second block I was about ready to haul out my plasmic and start shooting us a clear path.

Adding to the physical torture of pushing through the morass was the tension of wondering if and when the Patth would be able to regroup for another stab at us. Even in a multispecies gathering like this Ixil and his ferrets stood out, drawing far more attention than any of us liked. But like the badgemen, the Patth and their Iykami minions failed to materialize. Either we’d already taken out the bulk of their force, or else Nask had decided to concentrate whatever he had left on the various spaceport entrances instead of trying to comb the entire city. I could only hope that the informally thrown-together Bangrot Spaceport wouldn’t have made it onto his map.

It turned out that the night-to-dawn club wasn’t too far from the pharmacy where the Iykams had jumped me, which was itself not very far from the tram station where I’d first gotten off. But from the unfamiliar terrain we quickly passed into, it was clear that Ixil was leading us in a different direction entirely. I understood the tactical reasoning behind the plan: The nearest station would naturally be where the Patth would concentrate any observers they might be able to pull together. But at the same time, I found myself privately grousing at having to put up with more of this than I absolutely had to.

But we made it through the crowds, and my head didn’t fall off along the way, and finally I saw the undulating sign of a tram station ahead of us. “Wait here,” Ixil said, steering the three of us into the mouth of another alleyway. “I’ll go check for unwelcome company.”

“Right,” I said, helping him ease Everett to the ground. “The k’Tra might have monitor cameras in there, too.”

“I’ll take care of them,” he promised. Two steps later, he was lost to sight among the teeming multitudes.

“What was all that about monitors?” Everett asked, rubbing his leg at the edge of the burn pad.

“Monitor cameras can be used by people other than those who set them up,” I told him. “It could be the Patth aren’t bothering to look for us out here because they’ve already tapped into the k’Tra citywide monitor system.”

“A fact Ixil seemed to pick up on right away,” Nicabar said. He was leaning against the opposite wall from me, regarding me with a thoughtful expression. “Has he had any military experience, McKell?”

I shrugged. “We started flying the
Stormy Banks
together about six years ago,” I told him. “I can’t recall him ever mentioning military service in any of that time.”

“Interesting,” Nicabar said. He had closed his eyes, and I saw now that what I’d taken to be thoughtfulness was merely a deep fatigue. “In some ways he thinks like a military man.”

“Probably my influence,” I said. “I had five years in EarthGuard back in my twenties.”

“Yes, Tera told me a little about your career,” Nicabar said, opening his eyes briefly, then closing them again. “Anyway, I hope you realize what a good partner you’ve got there.”

I didn’t straighten up, or inhale sharply, or do any of the other things that traditionally accompany a moment of blinding epiphany. But with Nicabar’s words, the last of the stubborn pieces finally fell into place. I knew now who had murdered Jones, had tried to murder Ixil, and had been working at cross-purposes to us ever since the
Icarus
lifted off Meima.

And perhaps even more important, I knew why.

I was still working out all the ramifications when Ixil reappeared in the alleyway. “All clear,” he said, offering Everett a hand. “I can see the lights of an incoming tram headed our direction.”

“Good,” I said, helping him get Everett to his feet. “You three get going. I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

They looked at me as if I’d just sprouted a second head. “What are you talking about?” Nicabar demanded.

“I’m talking about finishing the job I came here to do,” I said. “I never had a chance to get Shawn’s borandis. Speaking of which, Nask has all my cash.”

“I’ll go get the borandis,” Ixil volunteered. “You head back with the others.”

I shook my head. “They’re walking wounded, Ixil,” I reminded him. “You’re the only able-bodied person we’ve got this side of the ship. They need you to help them get back safely.”

“But what about you?” Everett objected. “It’s not exactly safe for you to wander around alone, you know.”

“He’s right,” Nicabar agreed. “Ixil, you help Everett back. I’ll go with McKell.”

“Ixil might need your help, too,” I said. “Everett could still go into delayed shock and have to be carried. For that matter, Revs,
you
could go into shock, and there’s no way in hell
I
could lug you back by myself.” I craned my neck. “And if you don’t get moving, you’re going to miss this tram.”

“But—” Nicabar began.

“Save your breath,” Ixil advised, settling Everett’s arm in place over his shoulder, Pix and Pax scrabbling around for new positions out of the way. “It’s no use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind this way.”

“And what if the Iykams find him?” Nicabar growled.

“The Iykams are dead or scattered,” I said. “Personally, I’m more worried about what’ll happen if the Patth stumble onto the ship and none of you are there to defend it. Or do you really think Tera and Chort can hold off a concerted attack by themselves?”

“I suppose he’s right,” Everett said reluctantly.

“Of course I’m right,” I said. “Give me one hour after you get to the ship for me to catch up with you. If I’m not back, Ixil, you’d better try lifting off. Head for Everett’s hiding place, and I’ll try to catch up with you. And let me have some money, will you?”

“Here,” Ixil said, pulling out his wallet and handing it to me, his eyes steady on my face. “There should be enough there.”

“Thanks,” I said as I took it. There was a lot he wanted to say, I could tell, but didn’t dare do so in front of the others. “Now get going.”

Ixil nodded. “Be careful.”

“Trust me,” I promised.

They headed out, varying degrees of unhappiness mirrored in their faces and postures. I leafed through the wallet—three hundred commarks; more than enough—making sure to give them a good head start. Then, diving into the crowd, I followed after them. Partly it was simple caution on my part, a desire to be in backup position in case the Iykams
hadn’t
all been killed or scattered. Mainly, though, I wanted to make sure all three actually got on that tram and stayed there. What I was about to do next I couldn’t afford to let even a hint leak out about.

And so I stood half-concealed behind a group of Skanks and watched as they got aboard. I hung around until the tram pulled out; then, standing on tiptoe to study the flapping display flags, I headed for the nearest pharmacy.

I had anticipated having no trouble picking up borandis in the middle of the Grand Feast, and no trouble was exactly what I got. Ten minutes after entering, I
was out on the street again, two hundred commarks’ worth of borandis safely tucked away in my inner pocket. With any luck that would be far more than we would actually need, but it would look suspicious if I’d only brought enough to get us to Everett’s Beyscrim hideout. I made my way back to the station and hid in the crowd until the next tram arrived.

Not surprisingly, the tram was quite uncrowded; with the revels in full swing the majority of the traffic was headed into the cities and not vice versa. The sparse occupancy meant I was more conspicuous than I might otherwise have been, but it also meant I got a seat all to myself, plus a few minutes of badly needed rest. All in all, I decided it was a fair trade.

The ride was uneventful. I saw no Patth, no Iykams, and no sign that I was being either watched or followed. And after what seemed like far too short a trip the doors opened onto the Bangrot Spaceport platform.

It was going to be another long hike back to the
Icarus
, unless opportunity and diminished crowd density enabled me to take one of the little runaround cars instead. But whichever, ride or walk, it was going to be postponed a little while longer. Instead of turning right and making for the
Icarus
, I turned left and headed to the StarrComm building.

The receptionist at Uncle Arthur’s left me on hold for several minutes, which was a bad sign all by itself. It meant they were having to wake him up, and Uncle Arthur roused from his beauty sleep was never even remotely at his best. Add to that the news I was about to give him, and this was likely to be one of our less pleasant conversations.

My first look at him, when the display finally cleared, was the first indication that my assessment of the situation had been ominously off target. Uncle Arthur was not garbed in sleep shirt and hastily thrown-on robe, his hair tousled into a multidirectional halo. He was instead immaculately groomed, every hair in
place, and dressed in the sort of upscale finery I hadn’t seen him wear in years.

Which meant that instead of hauling him out of bed, I’d instead interrupted a meeting with those higher up in the food chain than he was, out in those murky waters he’d spent so much of his life swimming in. I tried to decide whether that was better or worse than waking him up, but my throbbing head wasn’t up to the task.

BOOK: The Icarus Hunt
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