find you're glad of the change.You'll be a hit
wherever you go, my beauty; I'll probably have to
kill some knife-fighter to win you back.'
'Please, please come with me,' I sobbed into his
gown.
'I can't, my love, I just can't.I'll come to wave you
goodbye, but I can't come with you.'
He held me while I cried; the gun lay silent and
dull on the table at his side, surrounded by the
debris of our meal.
I was leaving.Fire escape from the flat just before
dawn, over two walls clutching my travelling bag,
a taxi from General Thetropsis Avenue to
Intercontinental Station then I'd catch a Railtube
train to Bryme and take the Lev there, hoping for a
standby on almost anything heading Out, either
trans or inter.Maust had lent me some of his
savings, and I still had a little high-rate credit left;
I could make it.I left my terminal in the apartment.It
would have been useful, but the rumours are true;
the police can trace them, and I wouldn't put it past
Kaddus and Cruizell to have a tame cop in the
relevant department.
The station was crowded.I felt fairly safe in the
high, echoing halls, surrounded by people and
business.Maust was coming from the club to see
me off; he'd promised to make sure he wasn't
followed.I had just enough time to leave the gun at
Left Luggage.I'd post the key to Kaddus, try to
leave him a little less murderous.
There was a long queue at Left Luggage; I stood,
exasperated, behind some naval cadets.They told
me the delay was caused by the porters searching
all bags and cases for bombs; a new security
measure.I left the queue to go and meet Maust; I'd
have to get rid of the gun somewhere else.Post the
damn thing, or even just drop it in a waste bin.
I waited in the bar, sipping at something
innocuous.I kept looking at my wrist, then feeling
foolish.The terminal was back at the apartment; use
a public phone, look for a clock.Maust was late.
There was a screen in the bar, showing a news
bulletin.I shook off the absurd feeling that
somehow I was already a wanted man, face liable
to appear on the news broadcast, and watched
today's lies to take my mind off the time.
They mentioned the return of the Admiral of the
Fleet, due in two days.I looked at the screen,
smiling nervously. Yeah, and you'll never know
how close the bastard came to getting blown out
of the skies. For a moment or two I felt important, almost heroic.
Then the bombshell; just a mention - an aside,
tacked on, the sort of thing they'd have cut had the
programme been a few seconds over - that the
Admiral would be bringing a guest with him; an
ambassador from the Culture.I choked on my drink.
Was that who I'd really have been aiming at if I'd gone ahead?
What was the Culture doing anyway?An
ambassador?The Culture knew everything about
the Vreccile Economic Community, and was
watching, analyzing; content to leave ill enough
alone for now.The Vreccile people had little idea
how advanced or widely spread the Culture was,
though the court and Navy had a fairly good
idea.Enough to make them slightly (though had they
known it, still not remotely sufficiently)
paranoid.What was an ambassador for?
And who was really behind the attempt on the
ship?Bright Path would be indifferent to the fate of
a single outworlder compared to the propaganda
coup of pulling down a starship, but what if the gun
hadn't come from them, but from a grouping in the
court itself, or from the Navy?The VEC had
problems; social problems, political
problems.Maybe the President and his cronies
were thinking about asking the Culture for aid.The
price might involve the sort of changes some of the
more corrupt officials would find terminally
threatening to their luxurious lifestyles.
Shit, I didn't know; maybe the whole attempt to
take out the ship was some loony in Security or the
Navy trying to settle an old score, or just skip the
next few rungs on the promotion ladder.I was still
thinking about this when they paged me.
I sat still.The station PA called for me, three
times.A phonecall.I told myself it was just Maust,
calling to say he had been delayed; he knew I was
leaving the terminal at the apartment so he couldn't
call me direct.But would he announce my name all
over a crowded station when he knew I was trying
to leave quietly and unseen?Did he still take it all
so lightly?I didn't want to answer that call.I didn't
even want to think about it.
My train was leaving in ten minutes; I picked up
my bag.The PA asked for me again, this time
mentioning Maust's name.So I had no choice.
I went to Information.It was a viewcall.
'Wrobik,' Kaddus sighed, shaking his head.He was
in some office; anonymous, bland.Maust was
standing, pale and frightened, just behind Kaddus'
seat.Cruizell stood right behind Maust, grinning