Eternity's End (47 page)

"You look all dried out," Legroeder said, interrupting his thought.

"What do you mean?" the female asked, turning to Legroeder.

Legroeder gestured toward Fre'geel. "They need a pool they can soak in, for their skin. They're amphibians, you know."

"A
pool
? You think we keep pools in the detention area?"

"If not a pool, then bathing areas. Showers. Something. They'll get sick and be of no use to you, otherwise."

"Is this true?" Tracy-Ace/Alfa asked Fre'geel.

The Narseil nodded.

Tracy-Ace/Alfa looked thoughtful. Rings only knew what was going on in her augmented mind. But whatever it was, she astonished Fre'geel by saying, "All right, then—it will be done." She cocked her head. "Is there anything else you need, to maintain your health?"

Fre'geel overcame his surprise enough to decide he might as well take advantage of the opportunity. "A bit of room to exercise in would be helpful," he allowed. With a twitch of his eye, he glanced at Rigger Legroeder. The human was wearing a stony expression. But was that an approving twinkle in his eye?

"Exercise." Tracy-Ace/Alfa peered through the one-way pane at the crowded detention cell. It was just one of three that the Narseil were crammed into. "Very well." She turned back to Fre'geel. "You may return to your cell, Commander. You will be called when the time comes." With that, she gave a nod that was not quite dismissive, and the guards reappeared immediately.

As Fre'geel turned away, Legroeder murmured a farewell, and Tracy-Ace/Alfa said, "Think constructively, Commander. Think constructively."

Fre'geel said nothing, but was thoughtful as he walked back to rejoin his crew.

"I wanted you to know," Tracy-Ace said, biting her words as they made their way back to the flicker-tube, "that we do have some ability to take care of people here. Even our prisoners."

Legroeder had no immediate answer; he was stunned by her assertion.
Is that why you were in such a rush to take me to see the Narseil? Because you were afraid of what I thought, after the maintainers?

"Thank you," he said finally. He was pleased by her concessions to the needs of the Narseil, but a little worried, too. Had he betrayed too much interest in their well being?

Tracy-Ace said nothing more about it, as they got into the tubes. She didn't speak during the ride, and Legroeder, his head already spinning, used the
stop
command to turn off the flicker-feed. The silence was restful.

Stepping out at the end, he rejoined a troubled-looking Tracy-Ace. "What is it?" he asked, falling in beside her as she strode away. He realized that he'd felt a sudden impulseto reach out to her. What was he going to do, take her by the hand? Put an arm around her shoulder?
Jesus
. He clasped his hands behind his back, to keep them out of trouble.

Keeping pace with her wasn't easy. She kept turning abruptly, and hurrying him along. Her temples were flickering madly; her mouth was pursed in concentration.

"Can I ask where we're going?" he said finally.

She stopped at an intersection, frowning. It must have been time for a shift change, because the corridors were bustling with people. "We need to talk," she said. Eyeing the crowds around them, she added, "In private."

Legroeder remained silent, wondering at the sudden urgency. Was this still about his remarks about the maintainers, or was something else going on?
You can still blow this, you know
.

She seemed to take his silence for assent, not that it mattered. Peering at him with sudden intense concentration, she rubbed at the corner of her mouth with a knuckle, as though to stop a tic. "Let's show you where the law lives." She grabbed his arm and pulled him along again. There was something dark in her tone that reminded him that he was a prisoner.

En route to wherever they were going, they passed a heavily guarded sector.
Section 29
, said a sign over the entrance. A tall, red-skinned man had walked into the area just a few seconds before, and Legroeder could feel Tracy-Ace tense up beside him. The man hadn't seen her, but she waited until he was out of sight before hurrying Legroeder along. "The command center," she muttered as they passed the entrance. "We'll get to that later."

"Who was that guy?"

Her breath hissed out. "Someone you won't need to worry about, I hope. This way."

Legroeder followed, uneasily. Some distance further on, she stopped at a food-plaza, which she picked up a carton of Asian noodles and broc, plus something to drink. A few minutes later, they were in a sector that looked more like living quarters. Tracy-Ace's hand found its way to his arm again; this time he felt the slight twinge of a data-connection, though nothing came through the connection to tell him why she was tense.

He suddenly knew where they were going, though.

The corridor outside Tracy-Ace's apartment was more decorative than the one outside his; it was rose colored and obviously more recently refinished. This was the abode of the Law? Her hand touched the door. Unlike his, it opened with a click and swung inward: a solid door. Legroeder followed her in. The room was three times the size of his, finished in a russet two-tone. The basic appointments were similar: bunk in one corner, desk in another, counter with cupboards, doorway to the bath. The bunk was larger, but more striking was the modified com-console over the head of the bed, with linkup arms folded like a spider's legs against the wall. "Do you
sleep
hooked up to that thing?" he asked, with perhaps more distaste in his voice than he'd intended.

Tracy-Ace grunted noncommittally and set the food cartons on the counter.

On the pillow directly under the console was a brown plush animal.
Teddy bear?
Legroeder turned, refraining from comment. On the wall were two pieces of framed holoart: one an alien landscape, orange and smoky-looking with a huge, luminous red sun; the other a terrestrial farmhouse standing beside a woods. He peered at the two pictures. Some intuition told him that the farmhouse had some meaning to her, and something else told him not to ask just now. Below the farmhouse holo, her lounge chair was festooned with even more cyber-attachments than the bed; it was a smaller version of the command seat in which he'd first met her. "Is all this stuff for business or pleasure?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

Her eyebrows went up halfway, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself half a grin. "Both, I suppose." Her expression darkened again. "We can talk here," she said. "It's private. It's safe." She hesitated a moment. "That's why I brought you here."

Not an attempted seduction, then. Probably just as well. Greta the Enforcer was not so far in his past. But then, Tracy-Ace didn't seem anything like Greta, or so his instincts told him. And wasn't he, as a rigger, supposed to trust his instincts? And weren't his instincts telling him...

Jesus, get a grip
. He exhaled tightly. It had been a
long
time since he'd been with a woman, and just being in this room with her made his groin ache. Even tense, she was surprisingly attractive. "Would this be a good time to tell me what's wrong?" he said suddenly, to take his mind off the subject. "
Something
is, isn't it?"

She looked at him sharply for a moment, and he had a sudden terrifying vision of her hissing,
Yes, we've just figured out that you're a spy. And you know what we do with spies
...

Then her gaze shifted, and she seemed to study the blank wall over his shoulder for a while. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she said finally, in a voice that was metered and precise. "I get the impression that you don't exactly approve of everything we do here at Ivan. Is that true?"

His throat constricted, until it was all he could do to manage a husky rasp. "Well, I—"

Her gaze shifted to probe his. "In addition, you seem to have a highly developed sympathy for the Narseil—and Rings knows who else, on the outside."

He swallowed. His vision was turning out to be frighteningly accurate.

Tracy-Ace pressed a finger to her lips, as one of those infuriating expressions that he couldn't identify flashed across her face. "Furthermore—when you first made your presence known here at Ivan, you were seen following a data-thread that indicated a connection to—"

He could hear nothing now except blood rushing in his ears.
To the underground. Admit it
. The knot in his stomach tightened. He tried not to let it show on his face. But hadn't she hinted earlier—?

Tracy-Ace seemed to be reading his thoughts. She nodded and completed her sentence: "—a connection to some of us who are dissatisfied with certain practices of this outpost, and of the Kyber Republic."

Huh?
Legroeder started. "Dis... satisfied—?"

"With the treatment of certain groups of people, for example. And with the way we... pursue some of our goals."

Legroeder tried to swallow.

There was a catch in Tracy-Ace's voice as her expression softened. "As it happens, Legroeder,
I
am one of those people. One of those... hoping to change things."

His pulse was pounding now. He felt as if he might fall over in a faint. Was this a trap? It was, wasn't it?
Tell me it's not a trap
.

"You probably think I'm trying to trap you," she said. "I'm not. Really. It's no coincidence, you know, that you were brought to my attention when you explored that particular thread. And if you are looking to be put in touch with others..." She paused. "I can do that for you."

He tried to draw a breath, but someone was sitting on his chest. "I—"

"It will have to be set up carefully, of course."

"Uh—"

"Which I will do. But in the meantime—"

For all the speed of their direct connection, he felt as if he could barely keep up here. He hadn't been expecting anything at all like this. And that expression on her face—he was blinking at her, trying to understand; it looked like something he'd never seen on her face before.
Vulnerability
. She was taking a risk. She was afraid. But of what?

"You must speak of this to no one outside this room," she continued. "Not your friends. Not even me, unless I tell you it's safe." She rubbed one of her now-darkened implants. Meaning... others might be privy to what her implants heard?

"Do you understand?" she asked, and he nodded slowly.

"Good." She sighed, her breath a long, slow whisper, and the tension seemed to drain out of her. She glanced at him with a hint of a smile, then looked away, as though embarrassed.

It seemed impossible. Legroeder frowned, caught for an instant between impulses.
If she's another Greta, you are in deep, deep trouble
. Without allowing himself another thought, he reached out. She met his hand halfway, took it with surprising strength. His implants came to life, and he felt a shock of surprise at the intensity of the connection. Understanding flowed through the link and blossomed in his mind; and suddenly he realized
why
she felt vulnerable. Tracy-Ace, the dreaded node-commander, was appalled by the Kyber methods. But any attempt to change the system could backfire at once. For an instant, he glimpsed Tracy-Ace as a troubled young woman, caught in a maelstrom of shifting currents of power. Then the glimpse was gone, replaced by the confidence of Tracy-Ace/Alfa, the node-commander. But he had seen it; it was there.

If he could believe it. If she was telling the truth.

What would she gain by lying? She already had him as a prisoner, if that was what she wanted.

He squeezed her hand; she squeezed back, hard. Then she was up, padding across the room in her bare feet. When had she taken her shoes off? "Are you hungry?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she opened a cabinet door and took out bowls and a pair of slender glasses. Legroeder watched silently as she served the noodles; his head was still ringing like a bell from that contact. What had it touched in
him?

"Glass of wino?" Tracy-Ace asked.

He barked a laugh. "Glass of what?"

She brandished a semiclear carton of red liquid. "Wino. It's synthetic, but it's not too bad. What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said, suppressing a chuckle. "Sure, I'd love some."

She opened the carton and poured. Legroeder accepted a glass and held it up to the light. Clear burgundy color. He sniffed at the liquid. Could it be worse than what he'd drunk at DeNoble? He held his glass up to hers. "Clink them together," he said. Tracy-Ace looked puzzled, but clinked. It felt satisfying. He took a sip, hoping it would taste as good as the gesture had felt. It didn't, not even remotely; but somehow that didn't seem to matter. Tracy-Ace was watching him for a reaction, and when he smiled, it felt genuine.

She handed him a bowl and fork and gestured to the only place for them both to sit. They perched together on the edge of the bed—not too close together, but close enough to make him wonder what he was doing here. What he was doing about his mission.
Quite a lot, dammit,
he snarled to himself.
The Narseil are getting a bath, and we've met the underground. That's not too bad
. And it wasn't, really. But it didn't answer the question of what he was doing sitting on a bed with Tracy-Ace/Alfa. What did it mean that he
liked
sitting on the bed with her—liked it quite a lot, now that he thought about it?

He took a quick bite of noodles, then a sip of wino, then stole a glance at Tracy-Ace. It wasn't as if it had been love, or even lust, at first sight. And yet... he was aware now, almost hungrily aware, of her physical attractiveness: her lanky grace and energy, the almost elfin delicacy of her face. The vulnerability. Funny, that a woman who controlled so many lethal weapons should seem vulnerable.

And then there was the connecting touch they had shared, not just once but several times. As he gazed at her—no longer a stolen glance, but a steady gaze—he had the dizzying feeling that he had known her for years.

She smiled, and the effect was electrifying. Putting her fork down, she stretched out a hand. He watched the gesture in detached silence for a moment, then took her hand in his. He knew at once that this was something more than a handshake. "Pleased to know you, Tracy-Ace/Alfa," he said in a husky voice.