Stars in the Sand (24 page)

 “
If there are, you can always turn us in.”

 “
What’s your game, anyway? Why do you want my pistols?”

 Cooper glanced at Cantrell in mock hesitation, and said, “Someone on this rock stole some property that belonged to our boss. We’re here to get it back.”

 “
Valuable stuff, huh.”

 “
Couldn’t be more so.”

 
“
Well, I don’t want to be involved with anything that risky.”

 Shaking his head, Cooper said, “This goes wrong, our boss just writes us off.”

 “
Smart guy,” she said. “Wait here. Back in sixty.”

 She walked down the corridor, and Cantrell turned to him, saying, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

 “
Improvising.”

 “
We don’t know who she is, we don’t know who she works for, we don’t know a damn thing! You just sent someone who could be a Cabal agent up to our ship. And what was all that stuff about our property?”

 “
The rest of my platoon. I just put it into the local dialect. Worst thing happens is that we toss her in a cell and carry her back to Hydra Station. She won’t be in a position to betray us.”

 “
She’d damn well better not be.”

 “
Besides, she saved our lives,” Cooper said, looking at her up the passage. “That’s a debt I don’t mind paying back.”

 “
Fine,” she replied, “but you get to tell the Captain. I can’t wait to hear what he says about this one.”

Chapter 23

 The helicopter swooped over the hills, diving down towards the domes as though on a bombing run; Orlova looked at Nelyubov with a smile. This pilot was after her own heart, a showman. Not that most of the passengers appreciated it. The passenger compartment was full of spacers heading down on leave, a couple of officials wearing smarter suits, trying to shrink away from the others, and a guard sitting at the rear of the cabin, resting on a pistol, his eyes taking the measure of the room.

 She looked down over the city below; there were a pair of thin trails of smoke rising from one of the streets, and she could just make out some sort of disturbance, troops moving around. Looking up, she saw that, very quietly, the guard had walked up to her.

 “
You’re new on this world?”

 “
Yes, first time.”

 He nodded, then said, “Best not to pay too much attention to what happens out in the Smoke. You want my advice, you’ll stick to the Domes, have a good time, and get back up to your ship in one piece.”

 “
Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ve been out for months without any time off.” That much was true, at least. “All I want to do is try and relax.”

 “
Good,” he said, clasping her on the shoulder. “We’re not the best leisure spot, but we’ve got a little something extra.”

 That phrase instantly triggered a recognition for Orlova, and she replied, “That’s what I’m looking for.”

 He nodded, then said, “I’d try Red Nakamura’s. Best sushi in the system.”

 “
Thanks,” she replied. “I’ll look it up.”

 Nelyubov turned to her, frowning, and she nodded in reply. Not wanting to attract any more attention, she focused on the datapad in her lap, paging through the local network, scanning the advertisements and listings.

 A slice of the dome peeled away, and the helicopter clattered inside, the roof sealing up again as they descended into an airlock shaft that slowly pressurized, removing the local atmosphere and replacing it with an oxygen/nitrogen mix. This really was a luxury; normally they’d have had to land outside and been transferred by an airlock, but there was obviously enough money on this world that the locals could indulge themselves.

 The helicopter dropped to the ground with a barely perceptible thud, and the rotors slowed to a stop. A pair of attendants opened the door, placing a stepladder in front of it and gesturing for them to disembark; Orlova and Nelyubov made sure that they were neither the first or the last to leave, swinging out their holdalls and walking over to the street access.

 “
So, what do we want to do first?” he said, turning to her. Quietly, he whispered, “Is that what I think it was?”

 “
The recognition signal,” she replied in the same low tones. “We just got contacted.”  Raising her voice, she said, “Let’s find a hotel, I want to dump my bag.”

Hearing her, an attendant walked over to the pair, a plastic smile fixed on his face, “I could recommend the Imperial, ma’am. Excellent rates, fine rooms, good food.”

 “
Sounds splendid.”

 He reached for her datapad and tapped a trio of instructions into the controls, and a route map of the dome popped up, a thin line tracing the way to the hotel.

 “
All part of the service, ma’am. We’re always eager to get off-world visitors.”

 Nodding, Orlova pressed a note in his hand, and headed off into the street, following the thread. The directions meant that she could spend her time observing; evidently they were in what passed for the tourist quarter, souvenir shops, bars that promised much but by all appearances would deliver little, even a small museum. The people were well dressed, a clash of styles that looked garish to her, fluorescent colors and strange cuts, mixed with the utilitarian jumpsuits of the spacers.

 “
Think we should get some new clothes?” Nelyubov asked.

 “
Why, you like the style?”

 “
No, I was thinking we might blend in a little better.”

 “
This planet has a population of high five figures, and this dome has, what, twenty thousand? I’m going to guess that everyone knows everyone else.”

 Walking past a building that promised the wonders of natural hot springs, they found their hotel, a four-level tower that reached almost to the roof of the dome. The top two floors were wrapped in a garden balcony, probably to improve the view, but there were a lot of roof gardens scattered about the place.

 They pushed into the room through a wide double airlock, both doors locked open at present but ready to slam shut at a moment’s notice, and headed for the reception, where a bored-looking man wearing a black suit was standing.

 “
Can I help you?”

 “
We’d like a double room, please. Four nights.”

He nodded, and slid a form across to Nelyubov, who shook his head as he began to fill it in. Turning behind the counter, he reached into a box of keycards, plucking a pair out and passing the
m
to Orlova.

 “
Room 322,” he said. “One of our best. Dinner begins at 1900, breakfast at 0730, Zulu time of course. Would you like some help with your luggage?” He gestured to a corner, and a woman wearing a gray coverall, a tattoo ring around her arm, stepped forward. Orlova caught a brief glimpse of sadness on her face, mixed with a trace of defiance.

 “
I think we can manage, somehow.” She turned to Nelyubov, and said, “I’m hungry, fancy some late lunch?”

 “
Suits me,” he replied.

 Turning back to the manager, she asked, “Know a good sushi place?”

 He nodded, and said, “I can recommend Red Nakamura’s Restaurant. He breeds the fish himself, in the city water tanks.”

 “
Is that
safe
?” Nelyubov said, frowning.

 “
I assure you, all water used here in the dome is thoroughly treated before we use it, sir. It is simply an efficient way of utilizing it while it is in storage. Are you sure I can’t help you to your room?”

 “
No, we can manage. How much?”

 “
Two hundred credits now, six hundred at the end, not counting any extra charges for room service.”

 She slid some notes across the desk; neither of them acknowledged the additional twenty credit note she added to
to the stack
, and he handed her the room keys. The two of them made idle chatter as they stepped into the elevator, rising through the structure to their room. Any hotel was likely to be the focus of unwanted attention by the security services, and the elevator was almost certainly bugged.

 The room was painted in the same garish colors, red and green this time, enough to make Orlova’s teeth itch, but they had an excellent view of the garden outside, tangling vines and creepers to obscure the unappealing street scene, the smell of living vegetation seeping into the air. Nelyubov tossed his holdall onto a table and started to unload; neither of them had brought along anything they particularly cared about, just a few sets of clothes, toiletries, and a couple of spare datapads.

 Orlova tossed her bag under the bed, not bothering to unpack, and waited patiently for Nelyubov to finish. She glanced around, trying to see where any bugs might be hidden whilst trying to look as if she was just checking out the room. Likely any surveillance equipment would be too small to detect anyway without equipment, and breaking that out really would give the game away.

 “
I’m ready,” he said. “Shall we go?”

 “
Yes, I’m starving.”

 They descended to the lobby, walking out into the street under the gaze of the manager; as they left, another group of tourists came past them, providing some assurance that they weren’t the only ones who had been directed to that hotel. Tapping for the restaurant, the datapad provided another line, further on the way they had come, towards the perimeter of the dome.

 As they walked out of the main street, they found themselves in a residential area, and Orlova might have been back home on Mars. The houses looked the same, as did the carefully cultivated greenery – anything to help the life support systems work. They walked past a school, children playing some sort of ball game in the yard while teachers watched.

 “
They’re the same, aren’t they,” Orlova said. “When it comes down to it.”

 “
You too, huh,” Nelyubov replied. “The sooner I get back to Port Lovell, the happier I’ll be.”

 At the end of the street, they came to another cluster of shops, this time more usual – grocery stores, clothes shops, and a pair of restaurants, including their destination. Glancing at each other, they stepped in, walking over to the headwaiter.

 “
Table for two, please,” Orlova said, then adding, “We’d like the special.”

 The headwaiter nodded, then said, “There will be a delay.”

 “
We can wait.”

 He nodded again, and gestured them towards a table near the kitchen. The place was almost empty, a family over in the corner poking at the cuisine. No menu was provided, and after a few minutes, Orlova was beginning to worry that she had actually ordered lunch, but then a waiter walked over with a silver platter, two glasses on it.

 “
Sake, madam,” he said. “Complements of the house. It is recommended that you drink it before the meal.”

 Nelyubov frowned, then said, “I thought…”

 “
Sir, I strongly recommend you drink it, or the remainder of your dining experience could be significantly less pleasant.”

 With a shrug, Orlova drained the glass, replacing it on the tray, and Nelyubov reluctantly did the same. Almost at once, her vision started to blur, her eyes began to close, and she cursed herself for having fallen into such an obvious trap.

 After what seemed an eternity, her eyes flickered open, and she looked around; they were in some sort of cave, the walls sealed and pressurized, pipes and tanks everywhere. She tried and failed to move her hands, feeling handcuffs around her wrists.

 “
Ah, you have awakened at last,” a voice said, and a slender man walked into the room, a cane tapping on the stone floor. “Your companion awoke an hour ago.”

 
“
What did you do to him?”

 “
Nothing, yet. I simply asked him some questions. If I receive satisfactory answers, then you will be permitted to leave, potentially richer in knowledge than when you arrived. If I do not, then
you will not leave this complex alive. Who are you? And begin with the truth.”

 “
First, I must know something. Are you the resistance?”

 He chuckled, and said, “If it will loosen your tongue, yes. You are captured, my dear, and does my identity alter the fact of your interrogation?”

 “
I’m here to make contact with the Underground. If I have succeeded, I will talk.”

 “
You have. Now, answer my question.”

 “
I am Lieutenant Margaret Orlova, an officer in the Triplanetary Fleet.”

 “
Your companion?”

 
“
Sub-Lieutenant Frank Nelyubov.”

 “
In the same fleet?” His voice was a monotone.

 “
Yes.”

 “
Your mission?”

 “
To rescue a dozen members of our ship’s company who were captured by the Cabal. We have reason to believe that they are held captive on this planet. Also to gather intelligence, and make contact with any resistance groups.”

 He nodded, then said, “And where did you get my identity from?”

 “
Another member of your organization. I cannot tell you who.”

 “
Why not?” he said, sharply.

 “
You’ve caught me. If you aren’t in the resistance, then I’m not going to give up someone who is, and all I have right now is your word.”

 With a ghost of a chuckle, he said, “All I have is your word, also. Trust is expensive. Who is your commanding officer.”

 “
Lieutenant-Captain Daniel Marshall.”

 “
And where is he?”