be debited for a price that made even Kris’s eyes widen. Miss Pasley, whoever she was, had slapped a very costly priority on her message. Kris undid the top buttons of her choker collar so Nelly could project a holovid of the call.
A young woman, long, straight blond hair falling to her shoulders, came up. “Miss Longknife, or Princess Longknife,” she said nervously, “you don’t know me. But I know Tommy Lien, who says he’s a good friend of yours. He told me that if anything strange happened to him, I should call this number.”
The woman glanced off camera. “I think something has happened to Tommy. He wanted to see the ruins on Itsahfine. We were studying all the stuff about them in the ship’s database. He even had stuff he’d picked up, so I know he intended to go to Itsahfine. But he’s not going there.
“The Belly, that’s what we all call the Bellerophon, made a stop to refuel or maybe shift cargo here at Castagon 6. A guy came up while Tom and I were talking, said he was Calvin Sandfire and had to pass some words with Tom.”
“Tom left me, and I haven’t seen him since. The ship’s left the station, and we’re on our way to Itsahfine. I’ve asked all the other passengers, and no one has seen Tom. I’ve called him on net, but he doesn’t answer. I checked with the Purser, but he says Tommy’s room is still his, and he won’t do a search. I think he thinks I’m just chasing him. But I think Tom left the ship with Mr. Sandfire. Maybe it’s nothing, but I thought I ought to let you know that I think something strange has happened to Tom.”
Kris went over the message quickly in her mind as she told Nelly to save message. “What do you think?” she asked Jack.
The secret service agent rubbed his chin. “When you’re free and unencumbered, you can change your priorities very quickly. Maybe Mr. Sandfire made him a better offer than crumbling relics of the Three. Maybe he was from Santa Maria and had a message for Tom from his family.” Jack shrugged. “It could be a lot of things that don’t add up to bad.”
“Or it could be bad,” Kris said. “Nelly, do a search on Mr. Calvin Sandfire. Start with Santa Maria.”
“Already working,” Nelly said, her voice back to its usual sweet self. Tru would have to wait a while longer to crack the rock chip and the Three. “I am also searching on Wardhaven, Earth, and Greenfeld.” Wardhaven was home to Kris. Earth was Earth. Greenfeld . . . well, that was a totally different can of worms. With luck, Nelly would draw a blank there.
“Also, Nelly, check ships’ registries for a Mr. Sandfire.” Of course, that would tell them nothing if Mr. Sandfire was getting the use of a ship by leasing, renting, stealing, hijacking, or any of the other myriad of ways that people had of getting around starship ownership while acquiring needed mobility.
The problem with having readily available information about a hundred billion people on six hundred planets is learning patience while it was converted from “readily” to “available.” The long silence of the drive home was broken. “Mr. Sandfire is not in the Santa Maria database.” No surprise there.
“Mr. Sandfire is not a registered owner of any starship.”
“You couldn’t expect things to be that easy,” Jack said.
“Mr. Calvin Sandfire is the owner of Ironclad Software, registered on Greenfeld,” Nelly reported five minutes later.
“Oh shit,” Kris moaned. There were times when even a Princess had to say what she had to say.
“What should I know about this fellow?” Jack said.
“He’s not already in your official reports?”
“Nope, but you have this way of not letting my agency know of all the people that want you dead.”
“I don’t think Mr. Sandfire has tried to kill me yet,” Kris said, giving Jack a cheery smile. He didn’t look at all mollified. “He is reported to have paid off the man that added a heart attack to the last meal of my previous squadron
A young woman, long, straight blond hair falling to her shoulders, came up. “Miss Longknife, or Princess Longknife,” she said nervously, “you don’t know me. But I know Tommy Lien, who says he’s a good friend of yours. He told me that if anything strange happened to him, I should call this number.”
The woman glanced off camera. “I think something has happened to Tommy. He wanted to see the ruins on Itsahfine. We were studying all the stuff about them in the ship’s database. He even had stuff he’d picked up, so I know he intended to go to Itsahfine. But he’s not going there.
“The Belly, that’s what we all call the Bellerophon, made a stop to refuel or maybe shift cargo here at Castagon 6. A guy came up while Tom and I were talking, said he was Calvin Sandfire and had to pass some words with Tom.”
“Tom left me, and I haven’t seen him since. The ship’s left the station, and we’re on our way to Itsahfine. I’ve asked all the other passengers, and no one has seen Tom. I’ve called him on net, but he doesn’t answer. I checked with the Purser, but he says Tommy’s room is still his, and he won’t do a search. I think he thinks I’m just chasing him. But I think Tom left the ship with Mr. Sandfire. Maybe it’s nothing, but I thought I ought to let you know that I think something strange has happened to Tom.”
Kris went over the message quickly in her mind as she told Nelly to save message. “What do you think?” she asked Jack.
The secret service agent rubbed his chin. “When you’re free and unencumbered, you can change your priorities very quickly. Maybe Mr. Sandfire made him a better offer than crumbling relics of the Three. Maybe he was from Santa Maria and had a message for Tom from his family.” Jack shrugged. “It could be a lot of things that don’t add up to bad.”
“Or it could be bad,” Kris said. “Nelly, do a search on Mr. Calvin Sandfire. Start with Santa Maria.”
“Already working,” Nelly said, her voice back to its usual sweet self. Tru would have to wait a while longer to crack the rock chip and the Three. “I am also searching on Wardhaven, Earth, and Greenfeld.” Wardhaven was home to Kris. Earth was Earth. Greenfeld . . . well, that was a totally different can of worms. With luck, Nelly would draw a blank there.
“Also, Nelly, check ships’ registries for a Mr. Sandfire.” Of course, that would tell them nothing if Mr. Sandfire was getting the use of a ship by leasing, renting, stealing, hijacking, or any of the other myriad of ways that people had of getting around starship ownership while acquiring needed mobility.
The problem with having readily available information about a hundred billion people on six hundred planets is learning patience while it was converted from “readily” to “available.” The long silence of the drive home was broken. “Mr. Sandfire is not in the Santa Maria database.” No surprise there.
“Mr. Sandfire is not a registered owner of any starship.”
“You couldn’t expect things to be that easy,” Jack said.
“Mr. Calvin Sandfire is the owner of Ironclad Software, registered on Greenfeld,” Nelly reported five minutes later.
“Oh shit,” Kris moaned. There were times when even a Princess had to say what she had to say.
“What should I know about this fellow?” Jack said.
“He’s not already in your official reports?”
“Nope, but you have this way of not letting my agency know of all the people that want you dead.”
“I don’t think Mr. Sandfire has tried to kill me yet,” Kris said, giving Jack a cheery smile. He didn’t look at all mollified. “He is reported to have paid off the man that added a heart attack to the last meal of my previous squadron
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