Published by Ye Olde
Dragon Books
Available now in
print and Kindle/Kindle Unlimited
Down two more corridors
and one more level to reach her destination. Genys held her breath as she stepped
into the reception area of Administrator Wexel's office. M'kar was right, they were
due for a clash between the Defender’s crew and the local indiferps. She
saw no one, not even Wexel's irritatingly efficient and protocol-ruled assistant
with a weaselish face. The type of person she expected to find out any day now was
actually Gatesh. She was about to approach the closed door of the administrator's
office when the door to a conference room on the far side of the reception area
slid open.
"Ah, good, thank
you for coming so quickly, Captain." Wexel leaned out far enough for his glistening
ebony head to be visible. He beckoned and retreated back out of sight.
Genys stepped through
the door. Her first glance was enough to estimate thirty people crammed into the
conference room. Maybe a dozen were her crew, maybe ten were retrofit and upgrade
engineers. The rest looked like civilians, maybe employees of the various restaurants,
shops, and services provided by the station. Decker, the Defender's head of security, gestured with a tip of his head as Genys’s
second look around the room put names to faces.
"Please --"
She stopped short when he stepped aside, revealing a rotund man dressed in a furry
tunic and leggings. "Jorono Cynes?"
"No, no, not at all,"
the little man jabbered in a fruity, mock-aristocratic voice. "Mistaken identity.
I swear."
"It's him all right,"
Wexel said. "Identification verified. We owe your crew for recognizing and
apprehending him. They were quite adamant that he had to be stopped and his cargo
impounded."
"What is it this
time, Cynes? Hooples or cherashires?" Genys wondered if someone had put Gatesh
Green in her spicewater, and she was hallucinating all this.
Please, Enlo, let this
be a hallucination?
No comments:
Post a Comment