Timothy Zahn by Distant Friends & Others

Author:Distant Friends & Others [Friends, Distant & Others]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-09T17:59:39+00:00

But the spin lock holding the field switch in place worked with its usual perfection, releasing the switch to my control only when the ship was as close to stationary as made no difference. I flipped the field off and watched my cascade images disappear in reverse order; and then I drew a shuddering breath as my eyes filled with tears and cascade point depression hit like a white-capped breaker, dragging me under. I reactivated the Dancer’s systems and, slumping in my seat, settled down to ride out the siege.

By dinnertime two hours later the ship and crew were long back to normal, and the passengers were showing signs of life, as well.

Or at least some of them were. I reached the dining room to find a remarkably small crowd: three of our eight passengers plus Alana, Tobbar, and Matope. They were grouped around one of the two tables, with two seats to spare. “Good evening, all,” I said, coming forward.

“Ah-Captain,” Alana said, a look of surprise flicking across her face before she could catch it. “I was just explaining that you probably wouldn’t be able to make it down here for dinner.”

A fair enough assumption, if not entirely true: I usually managed to find a plausible reason to avoid these get-togethers. But a chance comment Tobbar had made when reporting the passengers were all aboard had made me curious, and I’d decided to drop by and see the phenomenon for myself. “I probably won’t be able to stay very long,” I said aloud to Alana and the table at large. “But I’d hoped at least to be able to personally welcome our passengers aboard.” I cocked an eyebrow at Tobbar.

He took the cue. “Captain Pall Durriken, may I present three of our passengers: Mr. Hays Trent, Mr. Kiln Eiser, and Mr. Rollin Orlandis.”

Trent and Eiser were youngish men, with what seemed to be very athletic bodies under their business suits and smiles that somehow didn’t reach their eyes. I said hello and turned my attention to Orlandis… and found that Tobbar had been right.

Orlandis didn’t belong on a ship like the Dancer.

That much I got in my first quick glance; but as my brain switched to logic mode to try and back up that intuitive impression, I realized it wasn’t nearly as obvious a conclusion as I’d thought. His suit, which had seemed too expensively cut for a tramp starmer passenger, turned out to be merely a small jump above the outfits Trent and Eiser were wearing, not much more than twice what I could afford myself. His ring and watch looked new but ordinary enough; his vaguely amused look no worse than others I’d seen directed the Dancer’s way. But something about the man still felt wrong.

I apparently hesitated too long, and the conversational ball was plucked neatly from my hands. “Good evening, Captain Durriken,” Orlandis said, giving me an easy, not-quite-condescending smile. His voice was quiet and measured, with the feel of someone used to being listened to.

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