was coming to. Good. Dee addressed herself to the auto cab.
"What do I owe you?"
"Twenty-one fifty."
Dee fumbled around in a pocket, found some local currency, and fed some of it into the cab's cash comp. A bell dinged when the total reached twenty-one fifty.
Dee turned her attention to Sorenson. "Cap⦠Cap, can you hear me?"
Cap mumbled something, swallowed, and said, "Wha?"
"Come on. It's time to get out of the cab."
"Out of the cab?"
"Right. Give me your hand, yes, there. Are you okay?"
Sorenson nodded, but from the way he swayed back and forth and stared blankly at his surroundings, she knew it wasn't true.
Dee took his arm, but tried to avoid the appearance of supporting him, since that might attract attention. The cargo module looked as if it was miles away. Cap stumbled once or twice, but Dee caught him, and they kept on going.
Dee had a story prepared in case the module was occupied, but was happy when it wasn't. She led Sorenson over to a beat-up chair. It squeaked as he sat down. His voice cracked when he spoke.
"What the hell are we doing in here? I saw the tender outside. Let's go aboard."
Dee shook her head. "We can't."
Cap frowned. "Why the hell not?"
Dee felt an overwhelming sense of frustration. "Because of you, Cap. Because you got drunk, you spilled your guts to the media, and you put us all in danger."
Sorenson's eyes grew larger. His face seemed ghostly white. "Got drunk? Spilled my guts?"
"Everything but the drifter's coordinates."
Cap looked around as if seeing the inside of the cargo module for the first time. "Wait a minute⦠where's Melissa? Where's Pik?"
Dee leaned against a cold metal wall. Her voice was weary.
"Now there's an interesting question. Well, assuming that they haven't been captured or killed, they're on the run. Headed this way would be my guess."
Sorenson was silent for a minute. The lines in his face seemed to grow even deeper. "I need a drink."
Dee felt pity mixed with disgust. "No, Cap. What you need is a good deal more complicated than that."
The next hour passed with agonizing slowness. The heat grew until the inside of the cargo module was like an oven. Dee's clothes were soaked with perspiration and her mouth was very dry. She picked up a washer and popped it in her mouth. The saliva tasted good. She peeked outside.
Everything looked the same. The sunlight, the robots coming and going, and the tender. It sat there like a big refrigerator. Full of cool, cool air, and cold, cold water. All she'd have to do was walk over, palm the lock, and step inside. From there it would be only steps down the corridor and into the fresher.
Dee imagined cool water splashing against her skin and ran her tongue over parched lips. This was torture. It would be better to think of something else.
Sorenson had a terrific hangover, and the heat made it worse, but he didn't say anything. The guilt of what he'd done, not only to Melissa, but to his friends, weighed heavily on his mind. He wanted to say something, wanted to apologize, but knew it wouldn't do any good. If onlyâ¦
Man-made thunder rumbled about them and the entire cargo module shook. Cap jumped to his feet and Dee looked out the door. It was a ship, a big one, a destroyer from the look of her, and headed their way. The warship's repellors roared as she rode them across the surface of the spaceport to settle a thousand yards away. Dust and dirt swirled as the vessel settled onto massive landing jacks. The repellors made a loud pop as the pilot turned them off. Metal creaked as it started to cool.
Dee eyed the ship suspiciously. What was this? Coincidence or something more? All of the other military ships were parked on the far side of the spaceport within their own area. Why park this one next to the tender?
A hatch opened, half a dozen navy personnel spilled out, and started to work on some routine maintenance procedures. Was it real? Or just for show? And what about those weapons turrets? Was it just
"What do I owe you?"
"Twenty-one fifty."
Dee fumbled around in a pocket, found some local currency, and fed some of it into the cab's cash comp. A bell dinged when the total reached twenty-one fifty.
Dee turned her attention to Sorenson. "Cap⦠Cap, can you hear me?"
Cap mumbled something, swallowed, and said, "Wha?"
"Come on. It's time to get out of the cab."
"Out of the cab?"
"Right. Give me your hand, yes, there. Are you okay?"
Sorenson nodded, but from the way he swayed back and forth and stared blankly at his surroundings, she knew it wasn't true.
Dee took his arm, but tried to avoid the appearance of supporting him, since that might attract attention. The cargo module looked as if it was miles away. Cap stumbled once or twice, but Dee caught him, and they kept on going.
Dee had a story prepared in case the module was occupied, but was happy when it wasn't. She led Sorenson over to a beat-up chair. It squeaked as he sat down. His voice cracked when he spoke.
"What the hell are we doing in here? I saw the tender outside. Let's go aboard."
Dee shook her head. "We can't."
Cap frowned. "Why the hell not?"
Dee felt an overwhelming sense of frustration. "Because of you, Cap. Because you got drunk, you spilled your guts to the media, and you put us all in danger."
Sorenson's eyes grew larger. His face seemed ghostly white. "Got drunk? Spilled my guts?"
"Everything but the drifter's coordinates."
Cap looked around as if seeing the inside of the cargo module for the first time. "Wait a minute⦠where's Melissa? Where's Pik?"
Dee leaned against a cold metal wall. Her voice was weary.
"Now there's an interesting question. Well, assuming that they haven't been captured or killed, they're on the run. Headed this way would be my guess."
Sorenson was silent for a minute. The lines in his face seemed to grow even deeper. "I need a drink."
Dee felt pity mixed with disgust. "No, Cap. What you need is a good deal more complicated than that."
The next hour passed with agonizing slowness. The heat grew until the inside of the cargo module was like an oven. Dee's clothes were soaked with perspiration and her mouth was very dry. She picked up a washer and popped it in her mouth. The saliva tasted good. She peeked outside.
Everything looked the same. The sunlight, the robots coming and going, and the tender. It sat there like a big refrigerator. Full of cool, cool air, and cold, cold water. All she'd have to do was walk over, palm the lock, and step inside. From there it would be only steps down the corridor and into the fresher.
Dee imagined cool water splashing against her skin and ran her tongue over parched lips. This was torture. It would be better to think of something else.
Sorenson had a terrific hangover, and the heat made it worse, but he didn't say anything. The guilt of what he'd done, not only to Melissa, but to his friends, weighed heavily on his mind. He wanted to say something, wanted to apologize, but knew it wouldn't do any good. If onlyâ¦
Man-made thunder rumbled about them and the entire cargo module shook. Cap jumped to his feet and Dee looked out the door. It was a ship, a big one, a destroyer from the look of her, and headed their way. The warship's repellors roared as she rode them across the surface of the spaceport to settle a thousand yards away. Dust and dirt swirled as the vessel settled onto massive landing jacks. The repellors made a loud pop as the pilot turned them off. Metal creaked as it started to cool.
Dee eyed the ship suspiciously. What was this? Coincidence or something more? All of the other military ships were parked on the far side of the spaceport within their own area. Why park this one next to the tender?
A hatch opened, half a dozen navy personnel spilled out, and started to work on some routine maintenance procedures. Was it real? Or just for show? And what about those weapons turrets? Was it just
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