She nodded gratefully, and Manya smiled.
It was an hour before she felt ready to leave again, despite her brave words. She wanted to take Manya up on his offer, but he couldn’t escort her home every night. The sooner she got over it, the better. Still, the once-friendly station corridors were filled with shadows, and every drunken spacer she passed seemed to leer menacingly. Things got better as she left the main gallery, ducking through back corridors toward the tiny block of apartments where she rented a room. She could afford better—she made good money at Manya’s. But she had better things to do with her credits.
She caught sight of her apartment entrance and relaxed for the first time. It always seemed to greet her from the distance, a small, blue door tucked in the corner of the hallway. She wasn’t scheduled to work the next cycle, and she was damned glad of it. She could use the rest. She reached the door and leaned forward to press her eye to the retinal scanner when she heard them to her right.
“You haven’t paid up, Sula,” a man’s voice said. Catching her breath, Giselle swiveled noiselessly. They were just a few feet away, down the other end of the hallway. Two guardsmen stood over a young woman, their stance anything but friendly.
Sula.
An unlicensed prostitute who worked the port. A sand junkie who was high ninety percent of the time, Sula slept in the corridor sometimes, and Giselle often left her food out of pity. The girl was harmless.
Now she lay huddled against the wall, tears running down her always-pale face.
One of the guards kicked at her, and she whimpered, pleading wordlessly for mercy.
“Sula, you know what it means if you don’t pay up on time,” the man said. His friends laughed, as if they were sharing some sick joke. “This is the second time in row. Didn’t we tell you what would happen if you did this again?”
“I’ll do better,” Sula whimpered. “I’m gonna do better. Just give me another chance. Please.”
“I don’t think so,” the guard said, his tone deceptively light. “I think it’s already too late for you, Sula.
You keep doing this and people will think it’s all right not to pay. We’re gonna make an example outta you.”
Giselle caught her breath as the guard pulled a blaster out of his belt and pointed it toward the cowering girl. She knew, deep down inside, that there was nothing she could do to help Sula. Nothing. That didn’t make her feel like less of a monster for watching.
With surreal slowness, the guard raised the gun to Sula’s head and pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash, and the corridor was filled with the smell of burnt hair and flesh. The body slumped to one side, and to Giselle’s horror, she could feel her fingers loosen. Her bag hit the floor with a loud thumping noise, and the guards whirled to face her.
“I didn’t see anything,” she muttered, turning away from them and fumbling at her door. Had the computer already recognized her? Would it open? They were going to kill her. She knew it.
She could hear them stalking toward her, and then the door opened. She stumbled through, slapping it closed and screaming, “Lock!” to the computer.
A small light glowed red. How long would it hold?
The door shuddered as the guards shot it with a blaster. She scrambled to her feet, running across her small, one-room apartment toward the fresher. She dove in and scrabbled at the shower’s back panel.
She’d wondered if she was paranoid when she’d decided to get the apartment. The landlord charged her extra for an apartment with an escape hatch. Who the hell would be after her? Why would she need a second exit?
But she’d always had a hint of paranoia, and it had saved her ass more than once. This time was no exception. The panel slid open, revealing a narrow service shaft. She crawled in, pulling the panel closed behind her. She figured she had about ten minutes before they figured out where she had gone. More than enough time to get away if she hustled. As she crawled down the narrow shaft she whispered a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for saving her yet again.
* * * * *
Jerred smiled broadly as the security captain offered him a drink. Amazing what kind of service a few credits could buy, he thought in amusement. The bastards must feel like they’d won a prize, a man who was willing to pay almost anything to make the little run-in with station security go away.
“It’s a real pleasure to deal with such civilized representatives of the local government,” he said, tipping back his drink. The captain gave an oily smile.
“We do our best,” he said. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to have to go through this with you again. I’m sure that Manya can be persuaded to drop any charges against you, and as the representative of the port, I can assure you that we hold no grudge, but we really will have to ask you to leave within the next cycle.
A little time does wonders for hot tempers.”
“That won’t be a problem for me at all,” Jerred said, mulling over the idea. A full cycle was more than enough time to find the girl and get out. Mission or no, he wasn’t going to leave her behind. He’d already decided that.
She’d cost him far too many credits.
“How much longer will you need me to stay here?” he asked, rolling the sharp liquor in his mouth. It was decent stuff, far better than anything he’d had in a long time. The captain and his men seemed to do pretty well for themselves. Idly he wondered if their Imperial keepers got a cut, or if this was strictly a local enterprise. If so, it might come in handy for Nicolai down the road. He made a mental note to tell the general about the captain in his next report.
“You can leave as soon as all the credits are transferred into the escrow account,” the man replied. “This would all be much simpler if you would simply authorize it directly.”
Jerred didn’t reply, simply smiling at him. If he authorized it directly, the price to leave this room would almost certain to go up. Immediately.
Finally the captain’s computer bleeped, and he nodded.
“It looks like everything is in order,” he said with a smile. “You’ll need to authorize the release from escrow before you receive clearance to leave the station.”
“Naturally,” Jerred said. “May I leave now?”
“Of course,” the captain replied. “In fact, I’ve even arranged for you to get your blaster back. Carrying such a weapon illegally is a serious infringement of port regulations, but I’m certain we can trust you not to do it again.”