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Authors: Timothy Zahn
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strange?”
“I think half the galaxy finds Human humor strange,” I said dryly. “The other half doesn’t believe it at all. The point is that it’s nothing a random stranger would have known to include. Even the Modhri shouldn’t know about it.”
“Unless Fayr is now himself a walker.”
In which case, Fayr would be unaware that his idea to invite me to Ghonsilya was not, in fact, his idea. “That’s a possibility,” I admitted. “But I think Fayr’s sharp enough to suspect if that had happened to him. If he did, I also think he’d try his damnedest not to allow the Modhri to finish its entrenching.”
“Suicide?”
I felt my throat tighten. Fayr did typically drag a small arsenal around with him. “Regardless, the Spiders should at least be able to settle the question of whether or not he’s actually in the Ghonsilya system,” I said instead. “See if the stationmaster can start a trace. Speaking of which, was there anything on Daniel Mice?”
“There was nothing on my data chip, so I assume not,” she said. “They might still be searching.”
“Or maybe Mice also has a walletful of fake IDs to choose from,” I said. “Actually, now that I think about it, Fayr’s almost certainly traveling under an alias, too. Means we’re probably not going to be able to track either of them.”
“We can still try,” Bayta said. “Remember that Korak Fayr was traveling under false names before we met him. The Spiders might be able to link him with one of those.”
“It’s worth a try, I suppose,” I said. “Go ahead and get them on it.”
Her eyes glazed over a moment, then came back to focus. “The stationmaster will put the request aboard the next cylinder.”
Which was, unfortunately, still almost twelve hours away. But there was nothing we could do about that except cultivate our patience. “Thanks,” I said. “You hungry?”
Bayta glanced at the shop. “Not just yet. What’s our plan, then? To try to find this third Lynx?”
“How?” I countered. “We don’t even know Smith’s real name, let alone whether he was the one with the Lynx, or what he might have done with it if he did have it.”
“And the Bellidos are gone,” Bayta murmured.
“Long gone,” I confirmed. “Our best option now is probably to head to Ghonsilya and hook up with Fayr. Maybe he’s got some leads he’d like to share with his fellow playmates.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Bayta said with a sigh. “I just hate… you know.”
“Letting the Modhri get the better of you?”
“It’s not like that,” she insisted. “This isn’t personal.”
“I know,” I said, pretending to believe her. “It isn’t for me, either.”
For a few seconds she sat quietly, her eyes staring down the Tube. Then, stirring, she handed me back my reader. “You might want to destroy Fayr’s message,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Actually, I had something a little more devious in mind,” I told her, keying for an edit.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.” I finished my edit and held the reader out for her perusal.
“ ‘Meet me at the Supreme Falls viewing area on Laarmiten ’?” she read, sounding a little taken aback.
“As long as the Gang of Fifteen are heading there anyway,” I said. “The Modhri’s reaction might be interesting if he finagles a peek at this.”
“An expert will be able to tell the message has been modified,” Bayta warned.
“Not with this reader he won’t,” I said. “This is that special high-tech job I got from Larry Hardin, back when I was working for him. Chock-full of interesting goodies. Did you also notice the new P.S.?”
She frowned. “ ‘Remember that victory belongs to the daring.’”
“There’s no point in letting a private joke go public, either,” I said. I pulled out the chip and put it in my side pocket, then returned the reader to its usual place inside my jacket. “So. Are we planning to just sit here until the train
“I think half the galaxy finds Human humor strange,” I said dryly. “The other half doesn’t believe it at all. The point is that it’s nothing a random stranger would have known to include. Even the Modhri shouldn’t know about it.”
“Unless Fayr is now himself a walker.”
In which case, Fayr would be unaware that his idea to invite me to Ghonsilya was not, in fact, his idea. “That’s a possibility,” I admitted. “But I think Fayr’s sharp enough to suspect if that had happened to him. If he did, I also think he’d try his damnedest not to allow the Modhri to finish its entrenching.”
“Suicide?”
I felt my throat tighten. Fayr did typically drag a small arsenal around with him. “Regardless, the Spiders should at least be able to settle the question of whether or not he’s actually in the Ghonsilya system,” I said instead. “See if the stationmaster can start a trace. Speaking of which, was there anything on Daniel Mice?”
“There was nothing on my data chip, so I assume not,” she said. “They might still be searching.”
“Or maybe Mice also has a walletful of fake IDs to choose from,” I said. “Actually, now that I think about it, Fayr’s almost certainly traveling under an alias, too. Means we’re probably not going to be able to track either of them.”
“We can still try,” Bayta said. “Remember that Korak Fayr was traveling under false names before we met him. The Spiders might be able to link him with one of those.”
“It’s worth a try, I suppose,” I said. “Go ahead and get them on it.”
Her eyes glazed over a moment, then came back to focus. “The stationmaster will put the request aboard the next cylinder.”
Which was, unfortunately, still almost twelve hours away. But there was nothing we could do about that except cultivate our patience. “Thanks,” I said. “You hungry?”
Bayta glanced at the shop. “Not just yet. What’s our plan, then? To try to find this third Lynx?”
“How?” I countered. “We don’t even know Smith’s real name, let alone whether he was the one with the Lynx, or what he might have done with it if he did have it.”
“And the Bellidos are gone,” Bayta murmured.
“Long gone,” I confirmed. “Our best option now is probably to head to Ghonsilya and hook up with Fayr. Maybe he’s got some leads he’d like to share with his fellow playmates.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Bayta said with a sigh. “I just hate… you know.”
“Letting the Modhri get the better of you?”
“It’s not like that,” she insisted. “This isn’t personal.”
“I know,” I said, pretending to believe her. “It isn’t for me, either.”
For a few seconds she sat quietly, her eyes staring down the Tube. Then, stirring, she handed me back my reader. “You might want to destroy Fayr’s message,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Actually, I had something a little more devious in mind,” I told her, keying for an edit.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.” I finished my edit and held the reader out for her perusal.
“ ‘Meet me at the Supreme Falls viewing area on Laarmiten ’?” she read, sounding a little taken aback.
“As long as the Gang of Fifteen are heading there anyway,” I said. “The Modhri’s reaction might be interesting if he finagles a peek at this.”
“An expert will be able to tell the message has been modified,” Bayta warned.
“Not with this reader he won’t,” I said. “This is that special high-tech job I got from Larry Hardin, back when I was working for him. Chock-full of interesting goodies. Did you also notice the new P.S.?”
She frowned. “ ‘Remember that victory belongs to the daring.’”
“There’s no point in letting a private joke go public, either,” I said. I pulled out the chip and put it in my side pocket, then returned the reader to its usual place inside my jacket. “So. Are we planning to just sit here until the train
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