Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Science-Fiction,
adventure,
Science Fiction - General,
Fiction - Science Fiction,
Space Opera,
Science Fiction, Space Opera,
Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945),
Science Fiction - Adventure,
General & Literary Fiction
Edger's eyes were glowing.
Val Con adjusted the stops and began the introduction to that ever-popular ballad of the spaceways, "Ausman Overboard." Miri laughed and nearly missed her first line.
The party lasted until very early the next morning.
CHAPTER SIX
THE STAFF OF the hyatt in Econsey were even more impressed with the members of Edger's group than the staff at the City House, where they'd spent the previous night, had been. Of course, the Clutch had been staying at City House for several weeks-it was possible that the novelty had worn off.
A suite of rooms, arranged in a six-pointed star around a spacious common room, was provided. An omnichora, the stammering manager explained, was standard equipment in this apartment.
The suite was pronounced adequate, and the manager was requested to guide Handler and Sheather to the kitchens, where they could arrange the details of comestibles while Edger and Selector made a preliminary tour of Econsey's import shops.
Miri stared at Val Con and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna try the comm-net for Murph's registration," she said, jerking her head at the door to her bedroom.
He nodded wordlessly and drifted toward the 'chora.
MURPH'S NAME WAS readily regurgitated by the net; the comm connected her with his hyatt's front desk immediately.
"Mr. Murphy and his guest have rented one of our island hideaways for a few days," the smiling young man at the Archipelago told her. "They should be back on the mainland-let's see . . . Yes. Tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to leave a message for him?"
"No, thanks," Miri said through gritted teeth. "My plans ain't fixed yet. I'll give him a call back when I know what I'm gonna be doing. I just thought, if he was free tonight . . . " She let it trail off, and the young man dimmed his smile by a kilowatt or two in professional sympathy.
She thanked him and broke the connection, seething.
Spinning slowly on her heel, she surveyed the bedroom. It was not, she thought, as luxurious as the apartment rented by Connor Phillips in Mixla City, though the private comm built into the desk was a nice touch. And the bed was enormous.
The bathing room offered a choice of wet or dry clean, as well as a sunroom; the valet was in a room of its own, flanked by floor to ceiling mirrors. On whim, because any occupation was better than thinking up ways to ruin Murph's nature, she called for the valet's catalog.
A low whistle escaped between her teeth as the pictures began to form in the screen. Hot damn, but you're in the wrong business! she told herself. A person didn't get rich being a soldier-not unless she got real lucky. And personal bodyguards didn't get rich either, unless the boss died grateful-of natural causes. Miri puzzled briefly, trying to figure out what line of work one could get into and afford to dress in the clothes offered by the hyatt's valet.
Sighing, she hit CANCEL. There was one thing for sure-any gimmick that let a person dress like that was not a gimmick that a mercenary from a ghetto world was likely to fall into.
That thought touched another, and then her fingers were working the catch on her pouch, pulling at the false wall. The enamel work of the disk was nearly blinding in the spotlights of the valet chamber, but extra illumination did not make the marks more meaningful.
She stood for a long moment, frowning down at the thing. Then, with a sharp nod, she went in search of her partner.
* * *
THE MANAGER OF the second shop was appreciative. She turned the one knife they carried with them for such purpose-their "sample" Edger called it-this way and that, letting the light illuminate and obscure the crystal blade in artistic series.
"It's beautiful," she breathed, laying it with gentle care on the velvet pad she used for showing off fine pieces of jewelry. "I'm quite sure I could sell a few hundred every year. Why don't we start with an immediate shipment of fifty? In six months I'll have a better idea of how they're moving