Read Online Between the Stars by John Maddox Roberts, Eric Kotani - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Maddox Roberts, Eric Kotani
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alien artifact. Come to think of it, it seemed strange that she wasn't on the thing the minute it showed up. It probably meant that she was secretly on Aeaea, studying the problem. Everyone knew about her fetish for secrecy.
Vladyka was a burly man in his mid-thirties. He told people his muscle mass was due to treatment and training for planetary environments. A generation before, few except the Earthborn carried so much redundant muscularity. The prospect of convenient interstellar flight caused a demand for treatment to ready the pioneers for exploration of planets with real gravity.
Once he had been dark, with dense, coarse black hair and a drooping mustache. For life in space, his head had been depilated and his skin lightened. He especially missed his mustache. In his homeland it was all but synonymous with manhood. Well, when he pulled off this feat, he could return to Earth and look as a man should look once more. Surely, Shevket would reward him with a high position, perhaps even Chief of Intelligence.
After allowing himself a few moments to revel in the prospect, Vladyka dismissed all such fantasies from his mind. From now on, he would allow only the job at hand to concern him. In sequence, he brought up the faces of his team. As each appeared before his mind's eye, he weighed their merits and faults for the plan that was already beginning to take shape within his mind. Which should he contact first?
When he had his plan roughed out, he ordered Ivo 's computer to take him to Avalon.
Valentina watched through a small port as the transport docked at Avalon's North Polar terminal. The trip out had been tedious, but she had used the opportunity to study recent Confederate history. From London she had traveled to Luna, and there she had arranged for a clandestine outbound passage to the Belt. It was not difficult, using her contacts. Once among the Island Worlds, her mobility was all but unrestricted because the Confederacy did not use internal passports.
Personal suspicion was another matter, and she had carefully built up a believable personality, and the physiognomy to go with it. Her hair was now dark, parted in the middle and drawn back tightly. Her skin was pale and she appeared to be wearing no cosmetics whatever. Her beautiful features were unchanged, but she managed to radiate plainness by her expression and bearing.
"We have arrived at North Pole Dock on Avalon," said the captain's voice over the intercom. "Docking is complete. Passengers may now disembark."
Valentina unclipped her landing harness and floated toward the exit hatch. Around her, twenty or so other travelers did the same. Experienced spacers, they managed to make the transit without jostling or kicking each other's faces. Very few people who were not spaceborn could manage the feat, but Valentina did it effortlessly. Had she wished, she could have adopted the distinct zero-gee body language of one raised on Luna or Mars. It was failure to master such subtleties of body language that exposed far more agents than verbal slipups or inconvenient physical evidence.
At the end of the umbilicus connecting ship and port, she followed a flashing stripe color-coded for baggage claim and Transit Authority. She collected her single bag and towed it toward an official who was speaking with the passengers and checking off something on a belt unit.
"Your name?" the official asked.
"Valerie Amber." It was a persona she had established several years before, complete with records. It would stand up to a fairly rigorous investigation.
"And your occupation?"
"Student." It was the most plausible of covers. Students were everywhere, enrolling in courses for a term, then moving on to another school or instructor, working when they ran out of funds. For many, it was just an excuse to travel, which was an education in itself.
"Passing through, or do you wish to settle here permanently?"
"Passing through."
"Enjoy your stay." That was it. No customs search
Vladyka was a burly man in his mid-thirties. He told people his muscle mass was due to treatment and training for planetary environments. A generation before, few except the Earthborn carried so much redundant muscularity. The prospect of convenient interstellar flight caused a demand for treatment to ready the pioneers for exploration of planets with real gravity.
Once he had been dark, with dense, coarse black hair and a drooping mustache. For life in space, his head had been depilated and his skin lightened. He especially missed his mustache. In his homeland it was all but synonymous with manhood. Well, when he pulled off this feat, he could return to Earth and look as a man should look once more. Surely, Shevket would reward him with a high position, perhaps even Chief of Intelligence.
After allowing himself a few moments to revel in the prospect, Vladyka dismissed all such fantasies from his mind. From now on, he would allow only the job at hand to concern him. In sequence, he brought up the faces of his team. As each appeared before his mind's eye, he weighed their merits and faults for the plan that was already beginning to take shape within his mind. Which should he contact first?
When he had his plan roughed out, he ordered Ivo 's computer to take him to Avalon.
Valentina watched through a small port as the transport docked at Avalon's North Polar terminal. The trip out had been tedious, but she had used the opportunity to study recent Confederate history. From London she had traveled to Luna, and there she had arranged for a clandestine outbound passage to the Belt. It was not difficult, using her contacts. Once among the Island Worlds, her mobility was all but unrestricted because the Confederacy did not use internal passports.
Personal suspicion was another matter, and she had carefully built up a believable personality, and the physiognomy to go with it. Her hair was now dark, parted in the middle and drawn back tightly. Her skin was pale and she appeared to be wearing no cosmetics whatever. Her beautiful features were unchanged, but she managed to radiate plainness by her expression and bearing.
"We have arrived at North Pole Dock on Avalon," said the captain's voice over the intercom. "Docking is complete. Passengers may now disembark."
Valentina unclipped her landing harness and floated toward the exit hatch. Around her, twenty or so other travelers did the same. Experienced spacers, they managed to make the transit without jostling or kicking each other's faces. Very few people who were not spaceborn could manage the feat, but Valentina did it effortlessly. Had she wished, she could have adopted the distinct zero-gee body language of one raised on Luna or Mars. It was failure to master such subtleties of body language that exposed far more agents than verbal slipups or inconvenient physical evidence.
At the end of the umbilicus connecting ship and port, she followed a flashing stripe color-coded for baggage claim and Transit Authority. She collected her single bag and towed it toward an official who was speaking with the passengers and checking off something on a belt unit.
"Your name?" the official asked.
"Valerie Amber." It was a persona she had established several years before, complete with records. It would stand up to a fairly rigorous investigation.
"And your occupation?"
"Student." It was the most plausible of covers. Students were everywhere, enrolling in courses for a term, then moving on to another school or instructor, working when they ran out of funds. For many, it was just an excuse to travel, which was an education in itself.
"Passing through, or do you wish to settle here permanently?"
"Passing through."
"Enjoy your stay." That was it. No customs search
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