45 Mission Gamma 2 by Heather Jarman

Author:Heather Jarman [Jarman, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure
ISBN: 9780743445634
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2002-09-11T23:00:00+00:00

So far, so good.

L'Gon waited for Vaughn in a cramped vestibule located down the hall from the main door. The dark paneling and orange-tinted lighting made it hard for Vaughn to see much. Squinting, he saw the brushed fold of floor-to-ceiling velvet draping, a plate bearing food scraps--greasy bones and skins sitting in a pool of bloody juices--and in the rear was L'Gon, clinging to a silken web. Vaughn's misshapen face mirrored in the burnished surface of his eyes. The Cheka deigned to rise, instead gesturing with one of his slender legs for Vaughn to take a seat on a backless stool sitting beside his couch. The robot offered beverages, brought a bowl of fried cartilage to snack on.

L'Gon didn't waste any time dancing around his payment demands. As soon as the robot delivered Vaughn's drink, the Cheka listed them.

Because the Cheka's vibrating metallic voice took some getting used to, Vaughn asked his host to repeat his request. Doubt I heard L'Gon correctly, hundred-year-old ears and all, he thought cynically.

"We want your cloaking technology." With pincers affixed to the end of a leg, he clipped a fine filament suspending an amorphous chrysalis from the ceiling. L'Gon squirted sticky brown liquid into the sack, waited a moment, and then slurped up the liquefied contents through a tubule. Carelessly, he chucked it aside, biomatter dripping off his fangs onto the fine hairs growing around his spinnerets.

Vaughn's face betrayed nothing. How the Cheka had come by his knowledge of Defiant' s cloak, didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was that Vaughn treat the revelation as nothing unexpected. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

"We don't require the device itself," L'gon went on, "just the engineering specifications and any parts we might find difficult to reproduce. In return, the matter load you require can be delivered immediately."

Vaughn dropped his glass on a drink tray and stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'll let myself out." He'd taken only a few steps when L'Gon stopped him with a question.

"You do understand how this process works? I have something you want, you have something I want. We negotiate."

"I've made clear what I was prepared to offer in exchange for the matter load. So by all means, please let me know if you change your mind." Vaughn turned back for one last look, though L'Gon's hard-shelled thorax made reading body language impossible.

With silk thread extending from his abdomen, L'Gon lassoed fried cartilage from the tray, dousing it in gooey enzymes before lifting it to his mouth.

For a moment, Vaughn waited, watching L'Gon for a sign that he was interested in further negotiations, but saw no indication the Cheka wanted anything but lunch. "I'll let myself out." He left without another word, even to the android chasing stiffly down the corridor after him.

When the Cheka suite doors locked behind him, Vaughn checked his chronometer. Less than ten minutes. He'd always been a man who knew what he wanted--why waste time tilting at windmills? Bowers looked disappointed when he saw the commander emerge unscathed, having looked forward to a showdown at the O.

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