Timothy Zahn - The Icarus Hunt

"What was all that about monitors?" Everett asked, rubbing his leg at the edgeof the burn pad.

"Monitor cameras can be used by people other than those who set them up," Itold him. "It could be the Patth aren't bothering to look for us out here becausethey've already tapped into the k'Tra citywide monitor system."

"A fact Ixil seemed to pick up on right away," Nicabar said. He was leaningagainst the opposite wall from me, regarding me with a thoughtful expression.

"Has he had any military experience, McKell?"

I shrugged. "We started flying the Stormy Banks together about six years ago,"

I told him. "I can't recall him ever mentioning military service in any of thattime."

"Interesting," Nicabar said. He had closed his eyes, and I saw now that whatI'd taken to be thoughtfulness was merely a deep fatigue. "In some ways he thinkslike a military man."

"Probably my influence," I said. "I had five years in EarthGuard back in mytwenties."

"Yes, Tera told me a little about your career," Nicabar said, opening his eyesbriefly, then closing them again. "Anyway, I hope you realize what a goodpartner you've got there."

I didn't straighten up, or inhale sharply, or do any of the other things thattraditionally accompany a moment of blinding epiphany. But with Nicabar'swords, the last of the stubborn pieces finally fell into place. I knew now who hadmurdered Jones, had tried to murder Ixil, and had been working at cross- purposesto us ever since the Icarus lifted off Meima.

And perhaps even more important, I knew why.

I was still working out all the ramifications when Ixil reappeared in thealleyway. "All clear," he said, offering Everett a hand. "I can see the lightsof an incoming tram headed our direction."

"Good," I said, helping him get Everett to his feet. "You three get going.

I'll meet you back at the ship."

They looked at me as if I'd just sprouted a second head. "What are you talkingabout?" Nicabar demanded.

"I'm talking about finishing the job I came here to do," I said. "I never hada chance to get Shawn's borandis. Speaking of which, Nask has all my cash."

"I'll go get the borandis," Ixil volunteered. "You head back with the others."

I shook my head. "They're walking wounded, Ixil," I reminded him. "You're theonly able-bodied person we've got this side of the ship. They need you to helpthem get back safely."

"But what about you?" Everett objected. "It's not exactly safe for you towander around alone, you know."

"He's right," Nicabar agreed. "Ixil, you help Everett back. I'll go withMcKell."

"Ixil might need your help, too," I said. "Everett could still go into delayedshock and have to be carried. For that matter, Revs, you could go into shock, and there's no way in hell I could lug you back by myself." I craned my neck.

"And if you don't get moving, you're going to miss this tram."

"But—" Nicabar began.

"Save your breath," Ixil advised, settling Everett's arm in place over hisshoulder, Pix and Pax scrabbling around for new positions out of the way.

"It's no use arguing with him when he's made up his mind this way."

"And what if the Iykams find him?" Nicabar growled.

"The Iykams are dead or scattered," I said. "Personally, I'm more worriedabout what'll happen if the Patth stumble onto the ship and none of you are there todefend it. Or do you really think Tera and Chort can hold off a concertedattack by themselves?"

"I suppose he's right," Everett said reluctantly.

"Of course I'm right," I said. "Give me one hour after you get to the ship forme to catch up with you. If I'm not back, Ixil, you'd better try lifting off.

Head for Everett's hiding place, and I'll try to catch up with you. And let mehave some money, will you?"

"Here," Ixil said, pulling out his wallet and handing it to me, his eyessteadyon my face. "There should be enough there."

"Thanks," I said as I took it. There was a lot he wanted to say, I could tell, but didn't dare do so in front of the others. "Now get going."

Ixil nodded. "Be careful."

"Trust me," I promised.

They headed out, varying degrees of unhappiness mirrored in their faces andpostures. I leafed through the wallet—three hundred commarks; more thanenough—making sure to give them a good head start. Then, diving into thecrowd, I followed after them. Partly it was simple caution on my part, a desire to bein backup position in case the Iykams hadn't all been killed or scattered.

Mainly, though, I wanted to make sure all three actually got on that tram andstayed there. What I was about to do next I couldn't afford to let even a hintleak out about.

And so I stood half-concealed behind a group of Skanks and watched as they gotaboard. I hung around until the tram pulled out; then, standing on tiptoe tostudy the flapping display flags, I headed for the nearest pharmacy.

I had anticipated having no trouble picking up borandis in the middle of theGrand Feast, and no trouble was exactly what I got. Ten minutes afterentering, I was out on the street again, two hundred commarks' worth of borandis safelytucked away in my inner pocket. With any luck that would be far more than wewould actually need, but it would look suspicious if I'd only brought enoughto get us to Everett's Beyscrim hideout. I made my way back to the station and hid in the crowd until the next tram arrived.

Not surprisingly, the tram was quite uncrowded; with the revels in full swingthe majority of the traffic was headed into the cities and not vice versa. Thesparse occupancy meant I was more conspicuous than I might otherwise havebeen, but it also meant I got a seat all to myself, plus a few minutes of badlyneeded rest. All in all, I decided it was a fair trade.

The ride was uneventful. I saw no Patth, no Iykams, and no sign that I wasbeingeither watched or followed. And after what seemed like far too short a tripthe doors opened onto the Bangrot Spaceport platform.

It was going to be another long hike back to the Icarus, unless opportunityand diminished crowd density enabled me to take one of the little runaround carsinstead. But whichever, ride or walk, it was going to be postponed a littlewhile longer. Instead of turning right and making for the Icarus, I turnedleft and headed to the StarrComm building.

The receptionist at Uncle Arthur's left me on hold for several minutes, whichwas a bad sign all by itself. It meant they were having to wake him up, andUncle Arthur roused from his beauty sleep was never even remotely at his best.

Add to that the news I was about to give him, and this was likely to be one ofour less pleasant conversations.

My first look at him, when the display finally cleared, was the firstindication that my assessment of the situation had been ominously off target. UncleArthur was not garbed in sleep shirt and hastily thrown-on robe, his hair tousledinto a multidirectional halo. He was instead immaculately groomed, every hair inplace, and dressed in the sort of upscale finery I hadn't seen him wear inyears.

Which meant that instead of hauling him out of bed, I'd instead interrupted ameeting with those higher up in the food chain than he was, out in those murkywaters he'd spent so much of his life swimming in. I tried to decide whetherthat was better or worse than waking him up, but my throbbing head wasn't upto the task.

And then I took my first look at his face, and felt an icy cold begin to seepinto my heart. It was a graveyard face, the look of a man who's been backedinto a corner by his enemies with nowhere else to go and no more tricks left touse.

The look of a chess master down to his king and one pawn, with the painfulknowledge that that pawn is about to be sacrificed.

"Jordan," he said, his voice studiously neutral. "We were just talking aboutyou. What's the situation?"