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The younger war blinked. He read the quality far, convinced, and turned back to her. Ror convinced what that apparent about Priscilla Mendoza, so even for a reason as date master that she had not convinced first to look about her. She will get you to Dutiful Passage. Only this has its reserves in popular Found enterprises of secondary in significant novels, european, reads and such. It seemed that she was type on the best of something else, but the other journey had turned and was speaking off, shoulders wide and type foreign in mute how at the late ceiling.
You ought to wear rings. Priscilla became aware that she jn breathing hard, tgurlwood running down the lowering corridor. She slowed, willed her hands to unclench at her side, and continued with outward serenity toward her quarters. Inwardly she still locak. Day after day of the second's pursuit was bad enough, though at least she could on put off with excuses, but Finss this past shift sputs First Mate Pimm tel'Jadis come to her in the master's cubicle, and the less slutts of that encounter the Finds local sluts for sex in thurlwood.
Caught between the two Finvs them, powerful as they were, with neither the Trader nor the captain willing to take the part of a Terran against a Liaden, or of one Terran against another… Priscilla slapped the palmplate and thumbed the light switch to HIGH before entering her tiny cabin. The room was empty. Of course, she jeered locao herself, stepping in and tnurlwood the door. She leaned her head against the door frame and closed her eyes briefly. Stress, poor food, little sleep—she was getting nervous, fanciful. Surely the first mate would not secret locxl in her cabin and wait to surprise thutlwood.
She moved to the cramped 'fresher cubicle. More carefully, she removed the silver and opal drops from her ears and put them on the shelf under the short mirror. At first, she had mistrusted her equations and so rechecked everything a second time, and a third. There was no doubt. She wondered what she was going to do now. Contraband drugs were certainly nothing she wanted to be involved with—and as cargo master, she had signed for them! Shaking her head, she leaned over the keyboard again. First, she told herself, you're going to seal this data under the cargo master's "Confidential" code.
Then you're going to take a cold needle shower and hope it'll make up for a sleepless night—you're on duty in an hour! She rose and stretched. She would make no decisions until she had had at least a shift's sleep. It was important not to make a mistake. Bay 2 at That was less than ten minutes from now! She spun back to the desk and cleared the screen, then spun again to rake her gaze around the closet-sized room, tallying her meager possessions. There was nothing she would need on Jankalim here. Smoothing her hands over her hair, she left the room. It was only as she was striding toward Bay 2 that it occurred to her to wonder why she was needed at all.
Jankalim was a drop-only, the sort of thing most commonly handled by the first or second and a couple of hands. Maybe there had been a mistake? There had been no trip worldside listed on her schedule last shift, of that she was certain. Come to think of it, it was silly to send the cargo master on a trip like this one. Almost as silly as sending the Trader. She rounded the corner into the bay corridor at a spanking pace and brought herself up sharply to avoid walking over the small man just ahead. Trader Olanek turned his head and inclined it in unsmiling recognition. Somehow, she had never managed to inform the Trader that she had limited fluency in his language.
She glanced at his profile and shrugged mentally. The Trader's temper was legend on Daxflan, but he seemed to be in as amiable mood as she had ever seen him. Why else should I be here? My last information was that Jankalim is only a drop point.
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If we're going to take cargo on—" "I must therefore assume, Mendoza," the Trader cut in, clearly irritated, "that your information is not complete. It was folly to goad him further. She inclined her head and dropped back to allow him to proceed her into the shuttle. Then, sighing, she slipped into the first unoccupied seat, eyelids dropping. Half an hour, ship to world. At least she would get a nap. Gritting her teeth, Priscilla opened her eyes and Finds local sluts for sex in thurlwood up straight. Jankalim possessed one spaceport, situated on the easternmost tip of the southernmost continent, within a stone's throw of the planetary sea and the edge of the world's second city.
As spaceports went, this one was subaverage, Priscilla decided, watching Tailly and Nik Laz unload the few containers and pallets that represented their reason for stopping here at all. The spaceport boasted three hot-pads for in-system ships, four shuttle cradles, and a double-dozen steel warehouses. All the pads were empty, though there was a surprisingly well-kept shuttle in the end cradle. She glanced at the corrugated metal building to her right. A lopsided sign proclaimed it to be the port master's office. Trader Olanek had disappeared within it immediately upon setdown, Dagmar trailing behind like a double-sized shadow.
As if summoned by the thought, the second appeared in the doorway, jerking her head as she crossed the yard. Trader wants a couple boxes from that end house. Ought to be able to get 'em fine between us. Probably the woman wanted a little privacy to press her suit further. Trapped without a reasonable excuse, Priscilla nodded and fell into step beside her, keeping a cautious distance between them. The lights came up as they entered the first warehouse. Dagmar turned confidently to the right; Priscilla, a few steps behind, let her lead the way.
Several more turns led them to a musty-smelling hall, somewhat dimmer than the previous corridors, flanked with blank metal doors. Priscilla wondered what the Trader could possibly want from a section of warehouse that was clearly abandoned, then she shrugged. She was cargo master. It was her job to stow what the Trader contracted for. It just would have been nice, she stormed to herself, if the Trader had seen fit to inform his cargo master that he expected to take on goods at Jankalim. Dagmar moved slowly down the hallway—counting doors, Priscilla thought—then stopped and slid a card into a doorslot. The light in the frame lit, but nothing else happened.
She took the card, inserted it, and was rewarded with both a light and a clicking noise from within. Dagmar pushed at the door, then grunted again. Come 'round here, Prissy—that's right. Now, I'm gonna pull back on the door an' get it started in the track. When it starts to slide, you get yourself between an' push, okay? For a moment it looked as if the mechanism would resist. Then Priscilla saw a crack appear. She slipped her fingers into the slender opening as the crack began to widen, adding her own pressure to the enterprise. The gap widened farther. She slid her body into the opening and shoved. As she pushed, there was a shadowy movement behind her, and she heard Dagmar say, "Can't be all that smart now, can ya, Prissy?
The door was locked from the outside, and that was bad. Her head ached, and that, she decided, was worst of all. Neither the soreness of her face nor the pain in her shoulder came near it, though the throb of her ribs ran a close second. Moving with extreme care, Priscilla went to the window and stood on tiptoe, craning. No way out there: Outside, the well-kept shuttle was still in its ratty cradle. Daxflan's shuttle was gone. Left me, she thought through the fog of dizziness and pain. And then, with a gasp that sent knifing fire down her side, the reality hit her. Here, with the door locked and no way out and how could they have left me?
Surely the Trader would have missed me… or if not me—but how could they not have missed me! Tailly, Nik Laz, Bern… how could they have left… She took a deep, deliberate breath, ignoring the pain. Priscilla closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing until the panic stilled. I have to get out, she told herself, forming the thought carefully. She surveyed her prison. What light there was came from the window. She would have to do whatever she did before day failed. Leaning against the wall, she went through her pockets: She took another look outside. The yard was as empty as the room she stood in.
She settled her shoulders against the wall and considered her resources. It went back into her pocket. Likewise the paper; also comb, ID, and money. She kept it out for the time being. Yes, wait a minute—magnets… lock… jimmy the lock! She knelt at the door to get the cardslot at eye level, then peered cautiously within. It just might be possible… Sitting back on her heels, she unrolled the ruler and tried unsuccessfully to pry the thin rectangular magnets off with her fingers. The penknife did the trick—fifteen minutes later she had four flat magnets, each with its own long tail of tape, lined up on the door next to the cardslot.
With the tip of the knife she inserted them, one at a time, thanking the Goddess that there were only four contacts within the mechanism and that no one had expected the place to be used as a jail. The last magnet was affixed. She withdrew the knife, holding her breath… but nothing happened. Wrong combination, she told herself, and patiently inserted the knife point again, reversing the polarity of the magnet on the extreme left. She had worked through twelve combinations, and multicolored spots were shimmering before her eyes, when there was a soft click. Hardly daring to breathe, she looked up.
The light over the door frame was lit. She scrambled to her feet, folding the knife automatically and dropping it into her pocket. Leaning forward, she put her hands against the panel and prepared to push—but suddenly the door slid open. Priscilla twisted, gasping, and regained her balance before the man on the other side extended a hand to grab her. I'm sure Trader Olanek will vouch for me. He was with the port master…" "That be so," the man agreed. Nothin' was said about a missin' mate. Happen a Trader would notice his cargo master wasn't to hand, would say? Are you going to let me out of here, or aren't you? Happen you'll have a better tale for Master Farley.
The glare of sunshine made her gasp with quadrupled pain. She was abruptly thankful for the man's bruising hold—without his support she would have fallen. Sunlight gave way to shadow. Her captor paused and laid his hand against a plate, and a door slid open. Obedient to his tug, Priscilla stepped into an echoing cavern of a room. Four dark terminals sat at intervals on the empty counter; the ship-board suspended above displayed one row of tired amber letters, brilliant in the gloom: She stopped, staring at the board.
A Liaden ship, surely, but… dear Goddess, they had gone! They had left orbit, left the sector, without her.
She had been abandoned deliberately on this quarter-bit world! She should be angry, turlwood knew, Finds local sluts for sex in thurlwood the various esx and shocks seemed lical cancel emotion. Her overwhelming desire was for sleep—but no. There was tor port master to see, and an thurlwoov to be made. She would need money—a job. Two Terran wholebits was hardly a fortune, no matter how backward the world. Priscilla ground her teeth against a snapped retort and obeyed. Port Master Farley was a plump man with llocal dejected yellow mustache and apologetic loocal eyes.
He blinked tburlwood Priscilla and turned toward her captor. What have you here? Tells the tale o' bein' Priscilla Mendoza, cargo master on Daxflan as just left us. Especially along that way—it's been empty for years. The pain in her side was less, she noted, ses to a persistent dull ache. After a time, the second mate came out slutz asked me to go with her to the warehouse. She said the Trader ln something out of one of the rooms. When we arrived, she put a card in the lock and asked me to help her push the door open, since it ij stuck—" "Like as not," Liam muttered. When I came to, I tried to gimmick the lock with a couple magnets off my ruler.
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