CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was abundantly clear that Dent didn’t completely trust us, enough so that he probably would have preferred to stay awake the entire trip to Popanilla. It was equally clear that, after the long evening and the trip to our destination stretching out over two days he didn’t have a hope in Hades of doing so.
Selene put together some food—I’d frankly lost track of what meal it was supposed to be—while I went back to my cabin and moved out all of the stuff Floyd had put in there during his brief residency, piling it all in the portside bioprobe prep room. The three of us ate together, and I escorted Dent back to his new quarters. He thanked us rather unenthusiastically for our hospitality and went out of his way to mention that he usually slept lightly and always had his ChasArms close at hand.
He also made sure to remind us that Weston was still out there, and would take a very dim view of events should something happen to his brother.
Selene and I said our own good nights back and returned to the dayroom. I’d spotted Pax lurking in one of the cabin’s air ducts, and figured that Ixil would join us as soon as the outrider reported to him that Dent was asleep.
Fifteen minutes later, he did.
“First things first,” Ixil said as he fixed himself an enormous meal. “Were you able to find anything on this John Foster Brighthunter person Dent was threatening Gremon system patrol with?”
“Unfortunately, he’s too small a fish to be in any of our data lists,” I told him. “Dent says he’s a local big shot whose daughter is a known ditwit—sometimes disappears for days at a time. He said claiming we’d kidnapped her wasn’t something they could quickly call bull on and could therefore buy us the extra couple of minutes we needed.”
“Do you believe him?” Ixil asked, shifting his attention to Selene.
“Yes,” she said. “There was no indication he was lying.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ixil said doubtfully. “I find myself thinking about how sociopaths often show no outward or even deep-biological indications when they’re lying and wondering how that might affect your own scent readings.”
“We’ve dealt with some pretty sociopathic characters in the past,” I pointed out.
Still, he had a point. Selene’s ability to read emotions had been tested a lot less often than her more basic tracking skill. And we really didn’t know much about our current passenger.
“I’m aware of that,” Ixil said. “I just wanted to remind all of us that no system is perfect.”
“I know,” Selene said. “I would never want a crucial decision to be based on my abilities alone.”
“Which are still better than anything else you’ll find out there,” I said. “I just hope that nothing has actually happened to Ms. Brighthunter. It would be the height of irony if Dent picked a name out of a hat and happened to hit someone who had been kidnapped.”
“Agreed, on all counts,” Ixil said. “We’re drawing enough attention as it is without having a kidnapping charge out in the Spiral.”
“He says she’ll probably pop up again in the next couple of hours,” I said, eyeing the mountain of food as he set it onto the table. “You know, you could have told us you needed food down there.”
“And you would have delivered it to me in front of Floyd and Cole?” Ixil said around a massive bite as Pix and Pax likewise attacked the plates he’d loaded for them. “But really, we were quite well equipped down there, with no danger of starvation. Meal bars simply become tiresome after a few days.”
“Well, enjoy,” I said. “This may be your last chance at real food.” I turned to Selene. “So what do we know about Popanilla and this Island of the Dead?”
“Popanilla is a colony world,” Selene said, her eyes shifting to her info pad. “Shiroyama Island is mainly a resort area, with skiing, hiking, off-shore boating, and some warmsuit diving. There are a few people scattered around the entire island, but the main population concentrations are on the west and northwest coasts. It’s called the Island of the Dead because there appears to have been a battle there thousands of years ago that left numerous alien skeletons behind.”
“What species?” I asked, craning my neck to look at her pad.
“An unknown one,” Selene said. “Most of the remains have been scattered by animals, erosion, and groundquakes, but various scholars have tried making reconstructions.” She turned the pad so we could both see it.
“Uh-huh,” I said. Tried being the key word. There were no fewer than five different drawings on the page she’d pulled up, all of them bipedal and humanoid but otherwise looking completely different from each other. The only thing they had in common was a colored and patterned arm or shoulder band, and even there the different artists couldn’t agree which arm to put it on. “I’m assuming we think they were soldiers because of the armbands? Some kind of rank or insignia markers?”
“A reasonable assumption,” Ixil said, his voice oddly hesitant. “I find it disturbing that resorts were built on what is essentially a burial ground. But there are still aspects of the human psyche I don’t understand.”
“Probably comes under the heading of out of sight, out of mind,” I said, eyeing the shaded area on the map that showed where the remains had been found. All were in the southeast part of the island, whereas the resort areas were on the west and northwest. “If we’re not actually walking or skiing on something, we can usually ignore it. Does the island have a proper spaceport?”
“There’s a landing field for smaller ships on the northwest coast between Trailhead and Aerie,” Selene said, marking the two spots on the map. “Aerie is where the main resorts are, and where the lifts and trams up the mountains to the ski slopes begin. Trailhead’s the starting point for the six major hiking paths below the mountains. Mostly the port handles spacehoppers and private ships. For anything bigger you need to go to the mainland.” She tapped the pad. “There’s also a small StarrComm office between the spaceport and Trailhead.”
I nodded. Even on vacation, the rich, powerful, and compulsive still couldn’t bear to be out of touch with the rest of the Spiral for very long. Selene and I had nailed a target that way once. “So Dent’s either heading for the spaceport to rent or steal a small ship, or he could be planning to call his brother from the StarrComm center to arrange for a pickup.”
I raised my eyebrows at Ixil. “Unless you think the portal Selene smelled on him on New Kyiv is here.”
“That would certainly be the most convenient from our point of view,” Ixil agreed. “But only time will tell.”
Selene stirred in her seat, her pupils uneasy. “Something?” I prompted.
“Dent’s brother,” she said. “There’s something about that whole thing that bothers me. People pick up scent traces from everyone they interact with. But Dent . . . there’s no scent on him that stands out more than any of the others. Yet he supposedly interacts regularly with his brother. Certainly they must have been in close contact in order to coordinate their activities at the Roastmeat Bar and then later outside the Ruth.”
“It does sound a little strange,” I agreed, looking at Ixil. “Thoughts?”
“If they don’t want to be seen together, they might run all their communication through phone or message,” Ixil offered thoughtfully. “But you’re right, that would have been hard with an impromptu operation like the one by the Ruth.”
“There’s also the possibility they’re identical twins,” I said. “I don’t think we ever established that one way or the other.”
“No, we didn’t,” Ixil confirmed. “Are you suggesting their scents might be similar enough that they blend into one?”
“Something like that,” I said. “Selene?”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Selene said, still looking troubled.
“Well, someone out there was shooting Iykams off my back,” I reminded her. “If it wasn’t Weston Dent, it was a pretty good imitation. So. I guess we follow along, let Dent call the shots, and play it by ear?”
“I have nothing better to suggest,” Ixil said.
“Yeah,” I said, scowling at him. “You know, we really did only sign up to hunt for portals.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” Ixil countered.
“That’s not what I meant,” I growled. “Never mind. Selene, can you watch the ship for a couple of hours?”
“Yes, of course,” she said.
“And can I use your cabin?” I added, belatedly remembering that Dent was ensconced in mine.
“Also of course.”
“Thanks.” I pulled myself to my feet. “Enjoy your meal, Ixil. I’m going to get some sleep.”
It had been a long night, and it looked like the next few days would be equally wearing. Especially as we would be dancing to Dent’s tune the whole way.
As my father used to say, Live and learn, because at some point you may lose the opportunity to do either.
I could only hope that, at the end, this would all prove to have been worth it.