The Albino Knife by Steve Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

don't have time for this shit. "You have to go to the nearest Republic ID Center and get it replaced."
    One, two, three, and, "Will that, uh, take long? I really need this message. I mean, I'm me, you know?"
    He nodded at the partially fuzzed holoproj.
    There was no guarantee it would work, but the psychology of it was sound enough. Surely this giant dooze was who he claimed to be? He didn't look or act as if he had enough brains to tab his tunic by himself, and he was holding up the line. More, he had the look of somebody who would stand happily there and hold the goddamned line up all day!
    The woman made her decision. She rattled off a message number, said, "Hardcopy," and pointed at the line of printers next to the far wall. "Over there," she said, pulling the ID cube from her machine and all but throwing it at Bork. "And get this cube replaced before you come in here again!"
    Bork smiled and nodded. "Yes, fem," he said."Sure thing. Thank you very much."
    Bork moved toward the printers.
    The Siblings' compound had changed little that Khadaji could tell from from the air. They had sent their own lighter to transport him and Veate from the starship; that was new. As the transport, empty save for the two of them and the crew, fell from space towardManusIsland , the air was clear enough of the usual tropical clouds so that he could see the place fairly well. From high orbit, it looked like a hooknosed fish with tiny turds dribbling from its tail. As they got closer, the details of the buildings and fenced compound came into view. They had built their own landing pad inside the fence. Three robed figures stood next to it, watching the lighter come down.
    When the door slid open, Khadaji and Veate walked down the ramp to where the three siblings stood waiting. It was summer here, hot and humid, and the smells of flowers and molds and organic decay filled the air. No two planets ever seemed to smell exactly the same, Khadaji thought; even if the climates and gravity were virtually identical, each world had its own distinctive scent. The cloudless sky allowed the sun to lay its hot fingers on the open landing pad, and more heat reflected up from the stressed concrete.
    It was like opening an oven door. Despite the shrouds, which covered everything but the wearers' hands and a strip that exposed the eyes, he knew which one was Pen before they reached the trio. Pen had taught him the Ninety-seven Steps, had been his friend as well as teacher, and had put him on the road to his destiny with the Confed. And like as not, the siblings were cooler under their clothing than he was under his. He had worn the shroud for a time, a special dispensation, even though he had not technically earned the right to do so. The cloth was almost alive. It had been a long time ago.
    Khadaji chuckled as he thought about it. He had thought he was in control, dealing in complicated and twisted criminal and political tactics, running the show, when in fact he had been more like a fly in Pen's web. Circuits within circuits and he still wasn't sure exactly who had been responsible for what.
    "Welcome, Emile," Pen said. He waved at the other two siblings. "This is Moon, and Spiral."
    Khadaji nodded. "This is Veate.My daughter."Still had a strange ring to it, to say that.
    "We've met," Pen said. "Welcome, Veate."
    "Shall we go where it is cooler to talk?" Moon said.
    "By all means," Khadaji said.
    "We've cleaned up the damage," Spiral said, "but I've asked Diamond to give you a little presentation about the explosion."
    They were in the office of the Elder Brother, a job that Moon, Spiral and Pen had all held at one time or another. It seemed larger than the last time Khadaji had seen it. Probably it was.
    "Diamond?"Khadaji said.
    The edges of the three siblings' eyes allcrinkled, an action that Khadaji knew to be smiles. He also knew the significance of the name. In the order, each student gave up his or her old identity when enrolled. A traditional nom de