A Passage of Stars by Kate Elliott Read Free Book Online Page A

a quick eye over the berth arrangements, laid out numerically by sections; the zones she had first come through were labeled as “abandoned” and not referenced for docking at all. A distinctive sign marked Portmaster’s office.
    Section A3, like all sections that housed government sections, had a high incidence of the black-and-gray Security uniforms. Portmaster’s office adjoined the central square and by itself took up an area as wide as a street. All manner of folk stood in line at the Permits counter. Others sat, patient but noisy, on plastine benches. Along one wall, the arrival and departure and assignment lists scrolled past on huge screens. Lily unclipped her com-screen from her belt and found an open plug-in on the wall. Next to her a long-limbed sta, dressed in expensive silks whose color complemented the rust sheen of her scalelike skin, cursed in a fluid undertone as unwanted information came up on her screen. Her clipped and tied mane shook with suppressed emotion.
    Lily queried for the berth and departure time of the ship that had left with Heredes. The screen went blank while memory was searched. For all she knew, they had gone on to Tagalong, skipping Station entirely. She would never be able to pick up their trail. But numbers rolled up on the screen, and there it was. The right ident, listed on the Apron Port log, with—and she smiled—a complaint of unauthorized launch duly logged against them by Caenna Harbormaster (H. F. Caenna, controller on duty). Perhaps the complaint had forced them to land at Station to receive clearance directly for a jump window out of system. Whatever the reason, they were there, berthed at M2-11, no departure time listed. And at Station, where ships in the official sections were manacled into place as a safety measure—so regulations stated—it was impossible to leave without authorization.
    Lily logged off. Beside her, the sta still punched numbers in, her double-thumbed, four-fingered hand fluent on the keys, and received unacceptable replies.
    The M2 berths lay in a stretch of corridor that housed docks and warehouses. The double doors of one warehouse stood open, revealing a hive of silent activity within, pygmies sorting with almost telepathic cooperation through a cargo. At berth 5 two copper-skinned sta towered above a woman dressed in the tunic and belt of a mercenary. They acknowledged Lily as she passed and returned to their light-hearted conversation. The rest of the odd-numbered berths were vacant; green “free” lights advertised space. Two people passed Lily. A cleaning unit backed out of a berth several doors farther along. But at berth 11, Lily saw just the orange “occupied” light, the smooth blankness of the closed lock doors, and the com-panel empty of message or request.
    Had she really thought it would be so easy? That she had only to present herself at their door and they would hand Heredes over to her, recognizing her superior claims? Or that, finding an open, unguarded lock, she could walk onto the ship and free him? She realized now that she had never considered what she would do if she found the ship.
    The orange light glowed a steady negative at her. She smiled. She would just have to storm them—sometimes speed and surprise was the only tactic when the enemy had the better defensive position. If she was lucky, some of them might be stuck in line at the Portmaster’s office. But they wouldn’t be there forever. She needed Bach. She had to act now.
    She took the shortcuts back, narrow alleyways that snaked between the outstretched arms of Station. She had to backtrack to the K5 section before she found the first shortcut; damp and smelling of mold, it led her in a low, dark arc to section B7. A handful of makeshift seals branched off it into unimaginable dwellings, so close to vacuum that each movement must seem an invitation to disaster.
    Another alley led from B6 to G2, a short run from there from G4 to F4. In F4, three alleys branched