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"Natch."
"But not with any of the official parties, I take it?"
"I hitched a ride back on the first Thurien ship that showed up, right after
the blowup with the Jevs," Murray replied. "I guess most people still don't
realize that the Thuriens'll take just about anyone for the askin'."
Hunt shook his head in a way that said that many of the things Murray seemed
to be taking as obvious were not obvious. "What was the attraction here?" he
asked.
Murray tugged at his beard, his gray eyes glittering mischievously. He seemed
to be enjoying Hunt's bemusement. "Nothin' that I'd ever heard of. It was more
a case of having to get out of there. You know how unreasonable the
Feds can get about anything they think they're not getting their cut of."
"What weren't they getting a cut of?"
"Oh, a little bit o' this, little bit o' that...I was mainly in what you might
call the 'creative import-export' business. It involved certain
psychotherapeutic agents and other substances that aren't covered by monopoly
patents, which you can't get approval for."
"I see," Hunt said, nodding. He should have guessed. "So you've been here...
"It's getting to be over six months, now."
"Where from?"
Murray gestured at the Golden Gate picture below the flag. "Born and raised.
Hell, where else is there?"
"What do you do here?"
Murray shrugged and looked vague. "Oh, bit o' this, bit o' that. Buy and sell,
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deal and trade in anything there's a demand for. Jevlen's a pretty easygoing
place that way: not exactly what you'd call restrictive. The
Thuriens don't need a lot of telling to make them act smart and stay in line,
so I guess they never thought to set up much of it here, either. Now that the
lunatic fringe that were trying to play Napoleons are gone, there's a lot of
opportunity."
Nixie reappeared carrying a tray with a bottle and glasses, a dish of broken
ice, and a bowl of mixed snacks. "When Vic get here Jevlen?" she asked,
setting the tray down and sitting by Murray.
"Today," Hunt said. "An hour ago, maybe less."
"Today," Murray repeated, adding something in Jevlenese. "You drink rum?" he
asked, looking back at Hunt.
"Sometimes."
"Local gutrot. Something like rum, but kinda minty. It's called ashti.
Give it a try." He poured Hunt a generous measure from the bottle, pushed
across the ice, then half filled two more glasses for himself and Nixie.
Hunt took a neat sip and found it not bad. He added an inch of ice. "So
Vic have no girl here yet," Nixie said. "We fix. Know plenty girl. Find real
pretty one. Good and kinky."
"Jesus, don't you ever think of anything else?" Murray grumbled. He lounged
back and raised his glass toward Hunt. Nixie took a small case from a side
table and began applying a pink cosmetic to her nails. "So what's your story?"
Murray asked Hunt. "Is there a Thurien ship in today?"
Hunt nodded. "I'm part of a group that UNSA sent to have a look at some
aspects of Ganymean science. There are going to be big changes."
"So, is that what you are -- a scientist?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"Originally nucleonics. But since the Ganymeans showed up, it's been getting
more general."
Murray took a gulp from his glass and regarded Hunt quizzically. "So how in
hell did you wind up being bounced around in the middle of a Jev banana
parade? For somebody who's been off the ship an hour, that takes real talent.
You must have a guidance system that homes on trouble."
"Not really. The tube in from the shuttle port wasn't running -- "
"Typical."
" -- so we used a bus. Our group will be based at PAC."
"The old government center. Okay."
Hunt shrugged. "The bus had to divert and got bogged down in the crowd.
The Jevlenese who were with us decided to try and make it on foot. I got
separated from the others. And then you showed up."
"Probably just as well for you, too. They can get pretty wild. Most of them
are headworld cases who forgot the difference between cuckoo-land and reality
a long time ago -- assuming they ever figured it out in the first place."
"There was something else, too," Hunt said. "On the way in from
Geerbaine we passed an accident."
Murray pulled a face. "It gets a bit like I-405 sometimes. How bad was it?"
"It wasn't a pileup. A traffic bridge collapsed -- part of an exit slipway."
"Goddamn turkeys," Murray muttered beneath his breath. "Anyone hurt bad?"
"It looked like it. And I think one of them was the deputy police chief.
Apparently he was driving over it."
"Oh, shit. Well, I guess we'll be hearing all about that."
Hunt looked around the room, tapping his fingertips lightly on the tabletop
next to him. His eyes came back to Murray. "Look, I don't want to be
unsociable or anything, and maybe it's been a long time since you talked to
anyone new from back home. But the others will be wondering what's happened to
me. I need to get to PAC. Is it very far from here?"
"You're right. We can shoot the breeze some other time." Murray turned to
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