Free A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) by Julie E. Czerneda Page A

overlapped at the same time, sounding more interested than annoyed. It was the kind of job that appreciated a break in routine. “Lot of Port Jellies out.” “Looks like they’re setting up a few checkpoints.” “Gonna take a while to sort this mess out.” “Hey, those are Enforcers! What’s going on, Thel?”
    “I should know?” that worthy responded, her voice definitely annoyed. “Should my number be on the list of must-calls? Does anyone expect ace behavior from the Jellies on this armpit planet?” Over her shoulder, “Clear Skies, Jason. I’ve got your tug on A-one priority.”
    Morgan pocketed the image of the one he sought, resigned to the fact that between the checkpoints and the growing traffic jam, it was unlikely he’d have any luck before lift. And, Barac or no Barac, he had no intention of missing that tug. “Thanks, Thel. If she shows up, put it on my tab. Give my regards to—”
    “Got her.”
    Morgan stopped at the door, “Pardon?”
    “There’s your Fem.” Thel sounded smug as she keyed down the other images, brought up a close scan of a luxurious private groundcar stuck in traffic, and cut off the voice feeds from the other gates. “And not nice company she’s keeping. We all know who that ugly snout belongs to—” When there was no answer, she swiveled her chair around. Morgan was gone.

Chapter 4
    IT seemed as though only a few moments passed before we halted to await our turn to enter the main shipway. We edged forward then stopped again, the dome rising to allow the driver to confer with a trio of grim-faced Enforcers. Others stood to the side, Port Authority mostly, sending resentful looks at the backs of the three red-and-black uniformed officers beside us. Roraqk scraped one claw lightly along my wrist beneath the cloak.
    I didn’t need his warning. New compulsions frantically writhed through my thoughts, overlapping into warnings of danger and fear, all aimed at the various law keepers standing so temptingly close. I couldn’t have called out to them for help. As a matter of fact, only Roraqk’s grip and some small instinct for self-preservation stopped me from trying to jump from the groundcar and run the other way.
    The driver offered a handful of plas sheets with an easy smile, seemingly unaffected by the stern aspect of his interrogators. The sheets were passed to a Port Authority official who waved a hand over them dismissively before giving them back. Smegard’s preparations were thorough indeed—and undoubtedly costly.
    We continued on, the dome remaining half open. Our groundcar was caught in a line of traffic, moving at a slow but steady pace which never quite came to a halt. The panic in my thoughts subsided again, leaving me wondering what other surprises the conspiracy in my head had in store.
    Another, more abrupt stop slid me off the seat on to one knee. Metal and leather made whispers of sound as the driver and guardsman readied themselves. My mouth went dry; more enforcers? “Hold,” Roraqk ordered, having stood to peer over the driver’s shoulder. The resulting tug on the leash binding us together drew me up with him. “They’ve flusshed a s-ssmuggler and the traffic’s-ss waiting for the all clear. We’ll be curious-ss yet law-resspecting, jusst like thessse other good citizens-ss.”
    At his order, the dome folded completely back. Our groundcar was one of about twenty similar vehicles, all stopped nose-to-tail along the shipway. The sky was already darkening, the sun a far-off smudge of red on the horizon. To one side of us, the ground dropped away sharply to the sea, the cliff edge marked by force field posts. I could smell the salt spray.
    Ahead on the other side were the ranks of starships, of every size, shape, and color; their twilight shadows seeming to be all that held them to the ground, though I knew if I were closer I’d be able to see the cabling protecting each from Auord’s uncontrolled weather. The always changing shipcity they