Read Online Brightsuit MacBear by L. Neil Smith - Free Book Online

say.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Dalmeon Geanar, Lindsay Arms Apartments, Number Two-C, Five Eighty-seven Claypool Street, Sector Twenty-nine, Fourth Level. My name’s Berdan Geanar.
    “I’m his grandson.”
    He realized, just as the last three words came out of his mouth, how stupid and redundant they must have sounded. The girl smiled an apology, although it wasn’t her fault, Berdan thought, he couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say to her. Girls always had that effect on him, even in the best of circumstances. He’d long ago decided he incurred less risk keeping his mouth shut, although this policy wasn’t going to be of much help here and now.
    “Well, if you want to surprise him, I guess there isn’t much point in calling ahead, is there?”
    “No,” Berdan agreed. “Can I find out who went down in what shuttles earlier—about two hours ago?”
    The girl shook her head. “To tell the absolute truth, the shuttle traffic wasn’t very heavy this morning. This is just a stopover, if you know what I mean, a milk run, not a popular or important destination. Just see how few Broaches are being used this afternoon.”
    In fact, Berdan had noticed he had the whole huge place almost to himself.
    “However,” the girl continued, “I’m sorry I must inform you none of the shuttle service companies operating aboard Tom Edison Maru keep passenger lists. It’s a matter of personal privacy, you see. Nobody’d do business with them if they did.”
    A disappointed expression must have appeared on Berdan’s face despite himself, for she hurried on.
    “There are only two arrival points on Majesty of any significance, anyway: Geislinger, the settlement at the north pole, and Talisman at the south pole.”
    Visions of winter hurricanes and glaciers two miles deep swept through Berdan’s mind.
    “I see. Well…”
    “It isn’t quite as bad as that.”
    It was as if the girl could read Berdan’s thoughts. She reached down, lifted a heavy, streamlined pistol-shape which had been lying on the counter in front of her, and pointed it at him. Too polite—and far too tongue-tied—to refuse, he let her place the cold, dime-sized muzzle against his forehead.
    A flash! filled his mind. He relaxed, letting his implant absorb the data, words and pictures the brochure projector contained, and which he’d “read” later when he had the chance.
    “Just wait until you get down there,” the girl told him. “You’ll see. The whole planet’s covered by some kind of jungle. The only cleared areas are the poles, and it says here they’re almost temperate by human standards. The larger of the two Confederate settlements is Talisman, and it’s likeliest your grandfather—”
    Berdan’s eyes lit with sudden inspiration. “If you don’t mind my asking, which of the two is more unsavory—you know, pirates, portside dives, suspicious characters, disreputable bars, and so forth.”
    Once again, Berdan was depending on all the adventure stories he’d ever seen—and in all probability, he realized, embarrassing himself. The girl peered at Berdan, an odd look of speculation dancing in her eyes (which, he noticed, were a deep, beautiful blue), but she didn’t say anything about what she was thinking.
    “Hmm. I believe I know what you mean. Local color. Are you absolutely sure—”
    “Yeah, I’m sure. I wish I weren’t.”
    “All right, let me see.” For a moment her beautiful blue eyes acquired the absent, searching expression typical, on occasions, to implant users. She was looking something up or consulting with somebody. Berdan, a lifelong implant user himself, noticed but saw nothing odd about it, since he often looked the same way himself.
    Her eyes focused.
    “Okay, Talisman, at the south pole, is definitely the place you want to start with—not the town itself, mind you, which, it says here, is a perfectly respectable place—but a sort of suburb down there they call Watner.”
    Again the pause and the absent