Panille stuffed his belongings back into the bag while Ferry watched with growing amusement. Did he take something while I was daydreaming? Panille wondered. He preferred the man’s anger to his amusement but there was no way to take everything out of the bag once more to check it. No way. What had happened to the people around Oakes? Panille had never seen such slyness and greed in a Shipman. And the smell of that stuff on his breath! Dead flowers. Panille sealed the bag.

“Go on, they’re waiting,” Ferry said. “Don’t waste our time.”

Panille heard the hatch open once more behind him. He could feel Ferry’s gaze on him all the way out of the reception room.

Waela TaoLini? He had never heard the name before. Then: Serve me right?

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. You shall repent of the injuries you inflict

—Frankenstein’s Monster Speaks, Shiprecords

OAKES SAT in shadows watching the holographic replay. He was nervous and irritated. Where was Lewis?

Behind him and slightly to his left stood Legata Hamill. The dim glow of the projector underlighted their features. Both of them stared intently at the action in the holofocus.

The scene holding their attention revealed the main finger passage behind Shipbay Nineteen and leading out to one of the treedomes. Kerro Panille accompanied by Hali Ekel walked toward the pickup which had caught the scene. The treedome could be glimpsed in the background framed by the end of the passage. Ekel carried her pribox over one shoulder, its harness held loosely by her right hand. Panille wore a recorder at his hip and a small bag from which protruded notepad and stylus. He was dressed in a white one-piece which set off his long hair and beard. The hair was bound in a golden ring, plaited and with the tip draped down his chest on the left. Issue boots covered his feet.

Oakes studied each detail carefully.

“This is the young man of Ferry’s report?”

“The same.”

The rich contralto of Legata’s voice distracted Oakes and he was a few blinks replying. During that time, Panille and Ekel walked from the range of one sensor and into the range of another. The holographic point-of-view shifted.

“They seem a little nervous,” he said. “I wish I knew what they wrote on that pad.”

“Love notes.”

“But why write them if . . .”

“He’s a poet.”

“And she is not a poet. What’s more, he resists her sexual advances. I don’t understand that. She appears quite pneumatic, eminently couchable.”

“Do you want him picked up and the notepad examined?”

“No! We must move with discretion and subtlety. Damn! Where is Lewis?”

“Still incommunicado.”

“Damn him!”

“His assistants now say Lewis is occupied with a special problem.”