Free Young Rissa by F.M. Busby

those eyes and jabbed.  
    She did not know how well or ill she wrought; the woman cried out and clapped her hands to her face. Rissa reached across her; overriding the safety interlock she button-punched the door open. She raked a heel down the woman’s shin and drew a yelp of pain; then she braced herself and pushed , until the woman’s head and shoulders were outside, rubbing against the tube wall as the capsule sped. The policewoman screamed — then friction took hold and the capsule swayed with the impact. Rissa heard bones snap as the woman’s body was pulled outside to be crushed in the narrow space and vanish behind. Almost, Rissa followed it — she barely managed to disengage and catch herself against the door frame.  
    She punched the door closed again and sat back, panting, fighting for calm. A pang wrenched her — she had never killed before. Yet what choice had she?  
    A minute or so later, the capsule came to a halt. She left it and walked out of the terminal, across the spaceport to the ship.
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    UET's stockholders had first option on the freeze-chambers. Rissa had considered the matter. Overall time dilation for the trip — not the one she had booked, but the shorter one she intended — was slightly less than eighteen. Twelve years for the price of, perhaps, eight months. Faster ships made better tradeoffs, but none were scheduled to meet her need. The question was, did she want to spend those eight months awake on a cramped ship, all the while alert to keep the role of Lysse Harnain? Not really, she decided. And the freezing and revival procedures, Erika had assured her, posed no threat to her disguise.  
    So she “bumped” a man who could have bought and sold her ten times over — but who owned less UET stock — and prepared to enter freeze. To justify being revivified at the stopover, she mentioned an investment possibility at Far Corner. Then she went to chilly sleep.  
    When the ship landed and she was awakened and treated, she went aground with only her essential luggage, content to let the rest go on to a destination that was not hers. So far, she felt, she was well ahead of the game. It remained to be seen what turns that game would take in future.  
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    She did not risk UET’s spaceport hostelry; near the ship she hailed a groundcab, and once inside, took certain precautions with her appearance. The cab took her to and past the town of Second Site, to a ramshackle inn called the First Ever. It catered largely, the driver told her, to miners and trappers.  
    Inside, signing the register as Tari Obrigo, she paid triple the usual rate because she needed a room to herself. The landlord looked at her — head covered by a hood, her face veiled — and grinned behind his grizzled beard.  
    â€œPrivate doings — eh, Ms. Obrigo?”  
    â€œI am accustomed to privacy and willing to pay for it.” Her voice was soft, slightly accented, and she spoke in the precise manner of Tari Obrigo.  
    â€œNo offense, Ms. Here — I’ll show you your room. Want any help with your duffel?”  
    â€œNo — well, yes — you might take this one. It is not heavy, but with the other two, awkward to carry.” The man nodded and led her to a second-floor room, complete with bathing and toilet facilities. Going to the room’s one window, he opened the curtains.  
    â€œNice view across town,” he said. “Spaceport just past the valley, and the big trees behind it.” He made no move to leave.  
    â€œYes — thank you.” Far Corner custom, she recalled, added all tips to the final billing, so that wasn’t what he was waiting for. “I think that is all, for the moment.”  
    â€œYou haven’t said — you want to take your meals here, or out?”  
    Annoyed, she shook her head. “Can I not do either, as is convenient?”  
    â€œSure.