Part 29 (1/2)

Kirek had no answer and so restrained a heavy sigh and countered with a question of his own. ”If Tirips herself stood here before you, what would convince you to believe?”

”Please answer my question.”

Kirek closed his eyes. ”Your questions tire me. Either believe or don't. The consequences are yours to face and do not matter to me.”

What mattered was whether he would be kept here until his body grew weak, whether Kirek could hold firm until he was released. Kirek had no doubts that the interrogation would continue, that his every word was being recorded. Eventually the pressure and stress might cause him to make a mistake or error in judgment. One slipup and everything would be undone.

Kirek's best hope was that Dora and Zical would come to his rescue. But even if they could free themselves, how would they find him?

Dora and Zical ran through a set of double doors and into a long hallway lined with soft flooring, recessed lighting, and a colorful mosaic between many closed doers. The building could be residences or offices or a school. She couldn't read the curlicue symbols, on the doors that they raced past.

The corridor seemed endless. They turned right, left, and left again before the hallway widened. People, Risorians, she guessed by their elegant mode of dress, waited patiently in front of four sets of double doors. Hearts pounding, fearing someone would discover their real ident.i.ties and shout for the soldiers to arrest them, Dora and Zical slowed their pace and joined the back of the line.

Dora was certain that any moment, someone was going to recognize them, but in their Risorian clothing they didn't stick out. No one appeared to notice them except one small pink-haired child who hid behind her mother's legs. Couples spoke in low tones.

Two teenagers couldn't keep their hands off each other, and a younger man helped an older woman stand, protectively keeping his hand on her elbow.

When the double doors ahead opened with an almost silent swish, the line moved forward. People entered a large hexagonal compartment and then turned around to face the opening. As the last ones to board, Dora and Zical were nearest the doors when they closed.

Dora expected the Transport device to move sideways, but it dropped, straight downward. She prayed that when the doors opened, the soldiers they'd seen outside wouldn't be aiming guns at them. When the compartment stopped moving, the doors opened on another level that looked like the one they'd just departed. But instead of soft lighting and mosaic walls, here the lighting was brighter and the walls were of pink stone.

177.

Two people exited, leaving more room within. They dropped again, and this time when the doors opened, Dora stared wide-eyed and Zical had to tug her into the crowded transit station. She suspected from the large cavernous feeling they were underground. Crowds hurried to an a.s.sortment of platforms where long tubular pill- shaped compartments with seats whisked pa.s.sengers out of the terminal while others entered to unload.

Despite the subterranean locale and huge overhead fans, the blowing air was quite warm. Dora spied a fountain where people stopped to drink and led Zical there. She drank deeply, the cool water on her parched throat quenching her first and rehydrating her body.

”Now what?” she asked, wis.h.i.+ng they knew where Kirek was, but feeling less vulnerable among the crowds where no one paid them the slightest attention.

”Pick a transport,” Zical told her. ”We need to disappear before those soldiers think to look for us here.”

As if saying the words had summoned them, soldiers marched down a set of moving stairs. Dora's pulse raced. Every nerve, every instinct told her to run. And yet her brain understood that running would call attention to them. She couldn't recall ever being so at war with her mind.

It was logical to stay hidden among the crowds. To move at the same speed as the others. But when she caught sight of those soldiers, her legs quivered with the need to flee. However, even when she lost control, Zical kept an arm around her waist, guiding her toward a transport and keeping their faces turned away from the soldiers.

She was grateful for their Risorian clothing This planet didn't have offworlders.

They executed them all.

Luckily, the crowds were thick enough for them to hide. The terminal was shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, and people were to intent on arriving at their destinations to notice strangers among them.

Zical plunged into the thick of the crowd toward a transport so overfilled that people had to stand. Dora noted the last cubicle didn't have windows and pointed her chin toward it. ”Let's take that one.”

”Fine”

They ducked inside, using the crowd for cover. Dora wondered what kind of payment was required for the fare, but there was no machine or slot for a credit chip barring their way. Perhaps transportation was free on Kwadii.

”The moment they entered, the door closed behind them, as Dora climbed the three steps inside, she expected to see rows of seats and other people. But the capsule remained empty, reminding her of a private luxury s.p.a.cecraft.

There was a bed decorated with a sumptuous silver blanket with maroon threads and matching pillows at the far end and cooking facilities with a table at this end. She peered into a tiny cubicle and marveled at the compact shower and voiding lounge.

178.

And between was a comfortable seating area that contained a vidscreen, printed materials, sculptures, and two padded lounge chairs on swivels.

This must be a private transport,” Zical came to the conclusion the same moment she did.

”Without security?”

”The only locks I've seen en this world were the ones that kept us in.”

Dora thought back to the doors in the building they'd just escaped. Zical was right.

There were no locks. But could the soldiers track them in here as they had when they'd taken the skimmer? Or perhaps this compartment wasn't owned privately, but available for hire.

”We should leave,” Zical began to turn back.

”Wait.” Dora approached the vidscreen. ”Computer on.”

A woman's face peered back at her. ”How may I serve?”

”We don't wish to be found.”

”You require privacy mode?”

”Yes.”

”Privacy mode activated.”

Immediately all outside sound ceased to penetrate the transport's thick wills. Zical waited, hesitant to interrupt her conversation, with the computer.

”What does 'privacy mode activated' mean?”

”You will not be disturbed. Doors, are locked. I retire payment of-”

”Charge it to Rogar Delari Hikai, heir to the Fifth House of Seemar.”

The machine would now ask for identification, a thumbprint, a retinal scan, a voice code. Dora thrust her psi into the wiring, adjusted a few circuits and withdrew.

Normally she considered this kind of alteration an illegal entry, but these were desperate circ.u.mstances. Rescuing Kirek and completing their mission to reprogram the Sentinel to guard against the Zin was worth a little computer subterfuge.

”Account charged.”

Zical grinned and took a seat in a lounger. ”We are searching for Tirips's Oracle.”

”The Oracle... is being tested by the Selgren L'Matti.”