6

What the parents sow, their children shall reap.

The Alhanthian Book of Truth

The Planet Mechnos

The offices where Natalie had played as a child, and where her parents had hatched their multitudinous schemes, were silent now, emptied of people, machines, and furniture. The next tenant would arrive soon, causing the halls, offices, and conference rooms to hum with a different purpose.

The guard was a former Voss Lines employee who had found temporary employment with a security firm. She greeted Natalie with a hug and allowed her to roam the building. Just for old times' sake, so she could look around, and remember how things had been.

And remember Natalie did, bursting into unexpected tears when she entered the office her parents had shared, empty now except for cables that poked up out of the floor, and the remains of a once bushy plant.

Like any officer, Natalie was theoretically ready to handle anything from burnt toast to a runaway reactor. Nothing, however, had prepared Natalie for the death of her parents. She sat where the toy box had been and leaned on the wall. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she used a sleeve to wipe them away. The only thing worse than watching her parents die was the feelings that had plagued her since. Sorrow, not for them, but for herself. Because they had abandoned her. How stupid. Especially in light of the fact that they had never been there to begin with.

It seemed as if they'd always been on the com, locked away in meetings, or traveling somewhere. Building toward what? A burst of bright light, followed by a sparsely attended memorial service and an empty office. She thought about Dorn, wondered how he was doing, and wished she could be with him.

How typical of her parents! To die at the same exact moment, so there was no room to squeeze between them, to know even one a tiny bit better. They'd been a unit for as long as she could remember, a single force that made its own rules and placed Voss Lines before everything else.

That's the way things were ... and there was no use whining about it. No, she had responsibilities, not just to herself and what remained of her parent's empire, but to Dorn and his future. The kind of responsibilities she had left home to avoid.

However, like all officers, good ones anyway, Natalie understood the concept of duty. And duty dictated that she secure the one asset that remained, get as much for it as possible, and invest the money in a sensible manner. Then, and only then, could she return to the life she wanted for herself.

The problem was that you can't sell something you don't have, and Natalie needed the coordinates for the Mescalero Gap. An extremely valuable piece of information that her parents never divulged to anyone, even to the point of programming the adjunct memories themselves. For it was the AMs that, when connected to a ship's navcomp, provided the computer with the wormhole's coordinates, and erased the data one microsecond after use. More than a dozen would-be thieves had died testing their wits against the booby-trapped boxes.

Yes, there were other ways to locate gaps, but given that the wormholes were invisible to ordinary optics, such efforts depended on indirect evidence such as the influence they exerted on the matter that surrounded them, the radiation they produced, and the X rays they emitted. All of this might or might not lead the would-be traveler to the correct hole. And mistakes were fatal.

So, while a few foolhardy or desperate captains had no doubt used the gap for free and gotten away with it, most sentients preferred to fork over the fee and know that they would survive.

Natalie scrambled to her feet. There was little or no doubt that her parents had been carrying the coordinates on their bodies, but the data cube, or whatever device they used as a storage medium, had been destroyed along with them. But there were backup copies, she was sure of that, and her task was to find one. Because to sell the wormhole, and free herself from its grip, she needed a legal description of where it was. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't program the AMs— thereby cutting what remained of the shipping line off from its only source of income. Requests continued to come in, and she had no way to fill them. That's why Natalie had broken into the family mansion the night before, searched the now vacant house from roof to cellar, and searched it again. All to no avail.

Like most children, Natalie and her brother loved games, especially hide-and-seek, which the Voss Lines office staff had tolerated because of who they were. In the process of playing, and otherwise sticking their noses where they didn't belong, the children had discovered a variety of nooks and crannies. That included the drawer where their father kept some rather risque holo cubes, a drug stash that belonged to the firm's comptroller, and the crawl space where the maintenance woman took naps.

But of all the possible hiding places, the one Natalie considered most likely to contain what she was looking for was located behind the commode in her mother's private rest room.

The first time the then-teenager noticed the stainless steel access plate, and used a nail file to remove the screws, the clean-out compartment had been deliciously empty. The perfect place to stash her diary or the stim sticks she was experimenting with. But, when Natalie removed the cover three days later, she discovered that someone, and her mother seemed the most likely candidate, had put the compartment to use.

A high-quality durasteel hand safe, complete with microcomputer and thumb lock, had been stored inside, and threatened to trigger a siren when she handled it. Fearful of what her mother might say or do if that happened, the girl returned the cube to its hiding place, replaced the cover, and decided never to touch it again. Not until now, that is ... assuming it was there.

The carpet still bore the impressions left by furniture that had occupied the office for the last ten years. The matching desks that belonged to her parents, a variety of storage cabinets, and the display case that contained the nameplate from their first ship all had left their individual marks. Natalie crossed the invisible line that had separated her father's half of the room from her mother's and entered the private rest room. There was a counter, a commode, and a shower stall. The art, towel racks, and other fittings, many of them quite valuable, had been removed by creditors.

Natalie's ship-style high-tops squeaked as she crossed the tiles and knelt by the commode. It felt cold against her left arm. The stainless steel plate looked as it had years before. Or were there more scratch marks around the screws? As if someone had removed and replaced them numerous times.

The young woman's heart thumped against her chest as she pulled the multitool from its pouch, chose the correct driver, selected "reverse," and pressed the "on" button with her thumb. The motor whined as the screws spun out of their respective holes, clattered on the tiles, and rolled into grout-filled valleys. The access cover fell away from the wall and clanged on the floor.

The overhead light didn't work, and it was dark inside the hidey-hole. Natalie turned the multitool's handle to the right and was rewarded with a narrowly focused beam of light. She peered into the hole and missed the crawl cam that inched its way across the ceiling and stationed itself next to the burned-out light.

Unaware that she was under surveillance, and eager to retrieve the safe, Natalie reached into the cavity. The cube was cool to the touch and quick to complain. "Put me back! I belong to Mary Voss! Get your hands off me!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Natalie said as she slipped the earplugs into place, "life is a bitch." In spite of the fact that she had anticipated the possibility, and come prepared to deal with it, the siren, combined with the noise generated by the carbide-tipped drill bit, was louder than she'd have liked. It was mercifully brief, however, as the tip tore through the safe's CPU, shorted the machine's circuits, and fried its brain.

Natalie was tempted to open the cube and peek inside, but knew the guard could arrive any moment. She dropped the safe into a handbag and was about to replace the access panel when the guard called. "Miss Voss? Where are you?"

"Right here," Natalie replied confidently, stepping out of her mother's bathroom. "I needed to freshen up."

The woman nodded understanding^ and brushed a wisp of gray hair out of her face. "Yes, of course, dear. Your mother spent a lot of money on that powder room. It's a shame what happened to it. Did you hear a noise of some sort? A siren, perhaps?"

Natalie walked over to a window. It looked out on a busy downtown street. "Why, yes, I did. I was in the bathroom at the time, but there was a noise."

The security guard shrugged. "Ah, well, emergency vehicles come and go all the time. That would explain it."

"Yes," Natalie said agreeably, "it would. Well, thanks for letting me in. A lot of memories are stored here."

The guard nodded, allowed that what had happened to her parents was "terrible, just terrible," and saw her to the front door. She gave Natalie a hug, locked the door behind her, and watched the girl walk away. The guard sighed, returned to her desk, and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was a sad, sad day.

Ari watched the video fade to black and waited for the almost inevitable criticism. It wasn't long in coming. Carnaby Orr rose from his high-backed chair, walked to the recently repaired windows, and looked out over the bay. "So, let's see if I understand. . . Your staff swept those offices on two separate occasions, and missed the compartment behind the toilet?"

Ari wanted to point out that the offices were huge, that the spacer knew exactly where to look, but refused to take refuge in excuses. "That's correct, sir. We searched the place twice and missed the panel on both occasions."

Orr was disappointed. He'd hoped to grill Ari, to work her over for a while, thereby releasing some of the pent-up frustration he felt. Now she had denied him that, and dared him to fire her, which he'd never do. Not for a long time anyway, assuming that she performed in bed, and remained loyal— something he paid two subordinates to monitor.

"Ah, well," the industrialist said grudgingly, "these things happen. No harm done, I suppose, especially since we have a good idea of what the safe contained, and couldn't use them anyway. Not legally, that is."

"We do?" Ari asked coolly. "Based on what?"

"Common sense," Orr said smugly, turning his back to the window. "Natalie Voss is nobody's fool. She heard what I offered her parents and knows a good deal when she hears one. Especially since she has none of the overweening pride and ambition that made her parents so unpleasant. No, I think Natalie has the coordinates and will be eager to sell them."

Ari could think of other possibilities, plenty of them, but saw no reason to rain on Orr's rather optimistic parade. Especially in light of the access panel fiasco. She nodded. "So? What now?"

"We close the deal," Orr said comfortably. "My lawyers will meet with the young lady and extend the same offer that I made to her parents."

"And if she refuses?"

Orr smiled and cupped her chin. "Then it will be your job to change her mind."

Traffic was thick, much thicker than anything found on La-Tri, and Sa-Lo was driving. The Traa could have hired a driver or rented an autocar, but he was unwilling to surrender control. Horns honked and humans made rude gestures as Sa-Lo wove back and forth through traffic. The Voss female had an intimate knowledge of the city and seemed intent on making every right- and left-hand turn it was possible to make.

They had already followed the flat-faced female to the building where Voss Lines had been headquartered, to the Bureau of Trade where her parents' deaths were the subject of an ongoing investigation, and from there on a series of errands.

Ka-Di was nervous the way he'd always been nervous since La-Ma's death, the same sort of keyed-up fluttery feeling that preceded combat—only worse, since combat had a beginning, middle, and end, and this went on forever.

And, as if to make a bad situation worse, La-Ma had caused Ka-Di's condition, or rather her death had, and it was to her, or a person very much like her, that he wanted to turn for help. But none were left, not after the eruption that decimated the Philosopher Sept, which meant there was little or no hope for a cure. The knowledge, and the helplessness that accompanied it, felt like a mantle of lead.

Sa-Lo swung into oncoming traffic, accelerated, and slid back into his lane just as a green-and-white hover bus roared through the space he had so recently vacated. Horns blared, and the commercial being bared his fangs. "Mannerless scum."

Ka-Di watched his mate-brother from the corner of his eye. "You seem worried ... is there something I can do?"

Sa-Lo responded with the Traa equivalent of a shrug. "Orr is wrong. He should wait until the investigation has been concluded before making an offer. This approach is too aggressive, too obvious, and might lead to trouble. It would behoove us to remember that while some of the authorities are stupid, some, like those recruited from your sept, are quite intelligent."

Ka-Di had been comfortable with Orr's approach. After all, he was a warrior, and what was commerce if not symbolic warfare? The head-on attack is not only honorable, but frequently successful, and always worth consideration. Still, many are the ways of victory, and Sa-Lo could be right. Especially where Traa investigators were concerned. Though drawn from the Warrior Sept, they were required to sever all connections with it while they served the Confederacy. Not that they always did. The warrior chose his words with care. ' 'You may be correct, Sa-Lo, but this is the price we pay for working through others."

Sa-Lo grunted an acknowledgment, slipped between a pair of trucks, and slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded to a halt. The female was in front of him. She executed two right-hand turns and entered her hotel. Their hotel, since the Traa were reluctant to rely on Orr's security apparatus and preferred to keep an eye on Natalie personally. The Traa followed the human down into an underground garage, parked their vehicle a discreet distance away, and waited while she entered the lift tubes. Natalie was in her room by the time Ka-Di and Sa-Lo arrived on the ninth floor, thumbed the lock panel on the adjoining suite, and let themselves in.

It took less than a minute to pop the lid on the surveillance case, power up, and check the female's activities. Five different crawl cams had been inserted into her quarters via the air-conditioning ducts, and two of them were close enough to provide clean audio when the doorbell rang. Ka-Di frowned and watched over Sa-Lo's shoulder as the flat-face answered the door.

Natalie thought she'd seen most everything. But the man in the hall was equipped with two heads. One rested where it should, centered between the shoulders of an expensively cut suit, while the other peered out from under his arm, and was first to speak. Head number two had a craggy brow, hooked nose, and thin, almost cruel lips. She knew it to be an Artificial Intelligence, or AI, but thought of it as human. "Citizen Voss?"

Natalie positioned herself to slam the door in both faces. "Yes?"

"My name is Johnson and this is my associate, Frank Shank. Of the law firm Johnson, Shank, and Wong? Perhaps you've heard of us?"

Natalie shook her head. "No, I don't believe I have. But I don't spend much time on Mechnos. What can I do for you?"

Shank spoke for the first time. His face was too handsome, too perfect, to be real. "We represent Carnaby Orr. He sends his condolences regarding the death of your parents and wonders if we could be of assistance."

Natalie frowned. "Assistance? The law firm my parents used has responsibility for their estate."

"No," Johnson replied firmly. "Mr. Orr thought that you might be interested in a business proposal. May we come in?"

Natalie shrugged and opened the door. "Sure, make yourselves at home."

Shank thanked her, entered the room, and placed Johnson on the coffee table. The AI seemed comfortable there and looked around. A vid screen occupied the wall where a window might have been. The furniture was comfortable rather than stylish. The crawl cams radiated heat, and Johnson recognized them as belonging to the Traa. The machine smiled. "Nice room."

Natalie took a seat. "Thank you. So, tell me. What sort of business proposal does Mr. Orr have in mind?"

Shank removed an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. "You were present at the meeting between Mr. Orr and your parents?"

Natalie nodded. "Yes, I was there."

"Well," Johnson said, reclaiming control of the conversation, "while Mr. Orr would have preferred to have reached some sort of accommodation with Mr. and Mrs. Voss, or barring that, to have postponed this discussion until a later date, we advised him to move more aggressively. So, if a desire to pursue such discussions seems hasty, or lacking in taste, the offense is ours and ours alone."

The handbag, and the safe that it contained, lay inches from Natalie's right hand. Seemliness, or the lack of it, was the farthest thing from her mind. Were the coordinates in the safe? If so, she had something to sell, and someone who wanted to buy. If not, she needed time. "No, my parents were business people, and understood the saying 'Time is money.' But there are other things to consider, such as fair market price, and the possibility that others may wish to vie with Mr. Orr for the rights to the Mescalero Gap."

Johnson frowned ever so slightly and sent a scrambled radio signal toward a receiver located one floor below. "Yes, well, market conditions are an important aspect of any business arrangement. There is another saying, however: 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' Why wait if you can come to an equitable deal now?"

The words seemed to hang there, suspended in midair, as Natalie looked from the disembodied head up to the equally strange man who carried it around. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? Assuming she had the coordinates or could find them? A quick, efficient deal that would produce the maximum amount of money in the least amount of time. Then why did the lawyers look so evil? And why did the situation feel so wrong? The words seemed to form themselves.

"You make a valid point, Mr. Johnson, and one I will keep in mind. In the meantime, I beg your indulgence. I have a brother to consider. He'll be eighteen soon and should have his say."

Ka-Di barely had time to look at Sa-Lo before Natalie's door opened, allowing three additional people to enter. A less experienced person might have assumed that Ari and her heavies had barged into the wrong room, or might have wasted time asking stupid questions, but Natalie had spent a lot of time on backwater planets and seized the initiative.

The officer came off the couch in one fluid motion. She grabbed Johnson by the ears and lifted him off the table. He weighed twice what a real head would have, and tried to bite her. She ignored the flashing white teeth and threw the machine at Ari. The security chief caught the head with a whoosh of expelled air and fell over backwards. She continued to fall as Natalie grabbed the handbag, twirled it around her head, and connected with the first assailant's face. He yelled, grabbed his nose, and danced a jig.

The other security person, a woman, grinned and gestured toward the handbag. "You've been lucky so far, honey ... don't push it. Give me the purse and stay out of the hospital."

Natalie looked contrite and offered the bag. The woman latched onto the strap as Ari shouted, "No! Don't do it!" Natalie jerked the woman off balance and kneed her in the stomach. The double fist-strike, delivered to the woman's neck, finished her off. She collapsed in a heap.

Ari came to her feet. Natalie turned, entered the bedroom, and locked the door. The knob rattled as she stepped onto the balcony. Natalie slipped her head through the shoulder strap, climbed onto the railing, and teetered back and forth. It was a long way to the cement below. A body hit the door. Wood shattered and someone swore. Natalie threw herself forward. Wind rushed by her face.