Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra by Stephen Lawhead Read Free Book Online Page B

compartments of various sizes, and along one bulkhead a row of staterooms. “I think this first one's yours, Mr. Treet.” Varro pressed a button, and a door folded back.
    Treet dipped his head and stepped into a small room with curving walls. In the center of the room, dominating it, sat a wide couch, flat, with a panel at one side. It looked like a slightly more generous version of a dentist's chair. There was a closet of sorts next to the door; in a corner across from the couch, a small holovision with a few dozen cartridges on its carousel; opposite the closet, a sanitary stall; diagonally across another corner, a desk with terminal, screen, and chair all molded from a single piece of white plastic; directly above the couch overhead, a tiny oval window.
    “I am certain these will fit, Mr. Treet,” Varro said, dipping into the closet. He brought out a new singleton in light green with darker green boots and sleeves—the latest style. “Your measurements were taken while you were sleeping off the effects of the drug.”
    “Oh?” Treet cocked an eye. “Pretty sure of yourselves, weren't you? How did you know I would accept your offer?”
    “Chairman Neviss is a remarkable judge of character, Mr. Treet. He is also a man who doesn't—”
    “Doesn't like to lose. Yeah, I know.”
    “What I was about to say was that he doesn't mind spending a little money in order to smooth things out. Speaking of which—” Varro reached into the closet and turned, hefting a bulging, zippered bag which he tossed to Treet. “Your stipend, Mr. Treet.”
    Treet caught the silver bag and tugged the zipper down. Inside were notes, banded and stacked. He withdrew a stack. “Five hundred thousand!”
    “In platinum notes of twenty-five thousand. There are six bundles—three million dollars. As agreed?”
    “As agreed.” Treet breathed an inward sigh of relief. Up to this very moment he had doubted he would ever see the money. Now he realized that he had been told the truth. Crazy as it sounded, it was the truth.
    Just then a man with a gold, long-billed flight cap stuck his head in the door. “Oh, Captain Crocker,” said Varro. “Come in, I'll introduce you to your passenger. This is Orion Treet.”
    The man, tall, loosely knit, blond-haired, and slightly sunburned, ducked easily into the compartment. He wore the easy, breezy manner of the old-style Texas natives, and a generous portion of the legendary cowboy charisma as well. “So this is the VIP we're taking up tonight!” The Captain smiled and offered his hand. Treet zipped the bag shut and tucked it under his arm, extending his hand to grip that of the Captain's. “Welcome aboard the
Zephyros,
Mr. Treet.”
    “Thanks. You fly this route often, I take it?” asked Treet.
    “Have you ever been in space before, Mr. Treet?”
    “This is my first time, although I've done a fair amount of suborbital travel.”
    “It's exactly the same. We're going to have a good trip, so don't you worry 'bout a thing.” He turned to Varro, smiled, and said, “Well, I've got a flight check in progress, so I best get back to business.” He touched the bill of his cap and disappeared.
    “Captain Crocker is Chairman Neviss' personal pilot, so I'm certain you'll be in good hands,” said Varro. “And now I'll leave you to get settled.” He brought up his watch once more. “You're scheduled to lift off in three minutes.”
    Outside a klaxon sounded, and the lights switched from white to red. Hoses were disconnected and retracted as the orange-suited army scurried for safety. Treet followed Varro back to the hatch. “We're looking forward to hearing from you soon, Mr. Treet. I think you'll find this a most extraordinary assignment.”
    “I'm looking forward to it,” Treet said somewhat mechanically, then realized that with three million dollars in platinum certificates tucked under his arm he actually
was
looking forward to it. “You can tell Chairman Neviss that I won't disappoint