said the Reeshi cop. "They rarely visit us, and don't come here without good cause. You should go with him."
Fresh terror throbbed in George's heart. "No!"
"It's best to respect the wishes of the Zhianese. They are powerful."
George moved into the passageway. "Can this Tyreel force me to go with him? Do the Zhianese have jurisdiction over your world?" If they did it was news to George.
The Reeshi began to shiver. "Please, good sir. Cooperate. They might not harm you."
But now the Reeshi from the Watering Hole unfolded from frolf and sprang to its feet. It moved to stand at his elbow, quivering nervously. "They don't have authority to compel you," it said quietly.
The Tyreel swelled like a balloon suddenly inflated, radiating speechless anger into the translation matrix.
George felt a flood of gratitude. It took courage for a Reeshi to force itself from frolf like that. "Thanks for your help, pal. It was nice to meet you. I'll find my way from here."
It bobbed its head. "Best of luck, good sir."
"I'll just be going back to my ship now," said George, his voice unsteady. "No disrespect toward your masters, Tyreel."
"Your refusal is a deadly insult to them!"
"You should do as he wishes," said the Reeshi cop.
"No offense intended, but the answer is no. Good day, gentlemen."
He turned and walked away, and could not keep from walking so rapidly that it might have been called running.
Just across the corridor was a row of panels giving access to the cross-dock transfer tubes. One of them dissolved open at his approach. That was a piece of luck, there was a transfer car available!
He climbed into it and used his databand to enter the location code for the Lucky Star's berth.
The opening shut and the car surged forward, rapidly picking up speed.
Until that moment he had halfway expected a tentacle to grip his shoulder. He had not dared look back. He found himself shaking uncontrollably.
His nerves slowly calmed. He felt a huge, sweet sense of relief.
Just how close a call had that been? Who were the Zhianese?
And what did they want with him?
The car slowed, turned into an exit niche, and stopped. The hatch melted open.
George looked around anxiously as he stepped into the corridor. There didn't seem to be anyone or anything waiting for him in the immediate vicinity.
Not that he could see, he amended. The lighting was just as poor here as it was elsewhere in Reeshi territory.
He strode hurriedly across the corridor toward the access port.
"A human being! I knew it!"
He whirled toward the sudden voice, galvanized by an instant of pure terror.
4
The woman emerged from the shadow of a parked freight conveyor. She took a cautious step in his direction.
She was lovely. Tall and slight of frame, slender and willowy and rather frail looking, she wore a baggy white coverall that didn't appear to have been washed in months.
Her light blue eyes were large and wide, filled with a gentle intelligence. Her wispy pale hair was blond, almost white. It hung perfectly straight to an uneven line just above her shoulders, where it had been raggedly chopped off. She was wearing a gray plastic databand, a bulky antique IBM model.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Her voice wavered unsteadily.
"It's okay. I'm a little jumpy right now. You wouldn't believe the day I've been having."
She gave an incredulous stare. "You wouldn't believe the life I've been having!" She moved toward him. "Hello. I'm Lydia Merritt."
"Hi. I'm George Wells."
She smiled suddenly and seemed to relax. "It's good to see a human."
"You're a pleasant sight too."
"I'm a mess."
George let this pass without comment. On closer inspection, it proved to be true. "Can I invite you aboard my ship? I'd just as soon get out of this corridor."
"Oh, I don't think so. I just wanted to meet you." Reaching him, she offered her hand. It felt like a small, trembling bird in his.
George grinned at her. She really was quite fetching. "What do you mean? How did you know I was here?"
"I saw your ship from the viewport, with the name Lucky Star on her hull—in English. So I knew humans were here."
"Just one human. I'm by myself. What are you doing here? I heard there was a woman here! I tried to call you, in fact."
"That's kind of a long story." The tremor in her voice grew more pronounced.
George felt sudden concern. "Is anything wrong?"
A tear trickled down her cheek. "Where do I begin? It's been very nice to meet you, George. You can't possibly know."
He scratched his head. "So nice that you've had enough of me already?"
She patted his arm. "It's not that. There are some nasty beings after me. I was their slave. You don't want to meet them."
"Slave? Forget that! We humans should stick together. Could we talk in my ship? I really want to get out of this corridor."
"Well, okay."
George used his databand to open the port. They entered the tube that butted against the Lucky Star. He pulled the hardware key from his pocket and inserted it in a slot in the old vessel's hull.
"Ship, it's me."
"Voice pattern identified," said a metallic voice. "Welcome home, George." The hatch slid aside.
Stepping over the threshold was like stepping off a cliff; they bounced into zero gee. George was prepared for it, but Lydia clutched at a railing in panic.
"Hey!" she protested. "You might have warned me."
"Sorry. The dockside gravity grid doesn't, you know..." he trailed off, feeling flustered.
"That's okay." She gave him a tired smile. "I should have expected it."
They exited the airlock into the short corridor that led to the central core. They floated from handhold to handhold, pulling themselves along.
Entering the core, George spoke in a crisp voice. "Ship, this is Lydia Merritt. I authorize her to reside aboard."
It seemed he felt more confident talking to Ship than to someone like this Lydia person.
"Understood," responded Ship. He had set its voice to sound throughout the vessel rather than address him through the nearest terminal. It made the huge space less lonely.
He pulled off his databand and stuffed it into a pocket—the damned thing gave him a headache if he wore it too long. "Sever all links with the local net," he said. "Lock and seal all hatches. Docking Authority clearance to enter is hereby suspended. I want an alarm if there are any intruders. Run security program. Bring internal power online and disconnect from dockside power."
"Understood." There was a short pause, and then the lights flickered. "All commands executed."
Lydia looked at him apprehensively. "What's going on?"
"Wait! Lydia can leave any time she wants. Subject to security program, if the docks are clear. Let me know if she does, don't let her back in without checking with me, don't let anyone else in—"
"Reminder: No one else is authorized."
"Good!"
"Please calm down, George," she said quietly. "Just fill me in, okay?"
He found he'd made a decision without thinking about it. "I'm getting the hell out of here. Want to come along?"
She stared at him. "I'd love to get away from this place. But I can't go with a human."
"Why in God's name not? You said it was good to see a human."
"It is!" She was almost shouting. "But you'll be going back to Earth someday, won't you?"
"Certainly. In fact, we can start back right away."
"I can never go back to Earth. I would lead them there."
"Oh!" The pieces fell into place. "These nasties of yours are the Zhianese?"
"That's a good guess!" Understanding dawned in her eyes. "You've encountered them? That's why you're in such a hurry to leave."
"I encountered something called a Tyreel. I ga
ther it's a slave also. Said the Zhianese were its masters."
"You shouldn't get involved." Her voice was trembling again.
"Earth's location is no secret. They could learn it anyway. But we don't have to head there if it bothers you."
"At least it's a long way off. They've reason to keep following me, and I doubt they'll ever give up."
"Lydia, this ship is well armed. You remember the Belt War, way back when?"
"The so-called First War in Space? It wasn't that long ago."
George nodded. "This old freighter was right in the thick of it, with no escorts. Primitive weapons, by Galactic standards. But powerful."
"You may need them. The Zhianese are of the opinion that humans make great slaves."
"Then let's get ourselves away from them, shall we? I'd be honored to have you, Lydia. Really." And George realized he meant it. There was something about her that intrigued him.
Not that he would take advantage! The woman would be dependent on his hospitality, after all. It would be best to keep his distance.
She gave a reluctant nod.
"I have plenty of supplies," he added. "Hungry?"
She seemed startled by the question. "Famished!"
"So how does a steak dinner sound?"
"It sounds heavenly."
"I can offer you a hot shower, too. Which do you want first?"
This surprised her into a laugh, and George felt something tug at his heart.
"I smell that bad? The shower first, and then the steak."
"Done," George said. "Let's set you up in your quarters, shall we? You can have your own cabin, with a new fresher retrofitted into its private head."
"What's a fresher? I'd be happy to rinse off in a sink." She looked around at the scuffed bulkheads, seeming to take in the Lucky Star for the first time. "This is a big ship."
The main core was an octagonal tube stretching away toward the ship's bow. There were hatches leading to various cabins and compartments on four sides,