Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [83]
“Anything happening?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve got a three-digit number here, and as we get closer to our objective, the number decreases. Or at least, that’s how it looks.”
“Then theoretically,” said Lyneea, “when it gets down to zero, we will have reached the seal.”
“That’s right.”
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Riker went. And as he did, the number continued to decline. The display read five-nine-nine before he realized the direction in which they were going.
“You know,” said Lyneea, “we’re heading toward the house.”
“I’ve noticed,” he told her. “But it’s not as if we’ve got a choice. Let’s just be as careful as possible, and hope we’re not spotted.”
It made sense, didn’t it? Using the house as a heading now, he kept his eyes open for Imprimans, checking the homing device only from time to time. The number kept on diminishing at a steady rate.
“At this rate,” observed Lyneea, “we’ll be in the house before we’re finished.”
Riker estimated the distance. He shook his head. “Not quite. I think we’ll wind up by that tree there.” He pointed. “The last one.”
She made a derisive sound. “That’s almost in the house, isn’t it?”
“Want to turn back?”
His partner scowled. It didn’t make her any less lovely, he noticed. “I’ll shut up,” she assured him.
By the time they reached the vicinity of the tree, they were down to a single digit on the readout. And then, as they got near enough to touch it, the digit became zero.
“All ashore,” said Riker.
“I beg your pardon?”
“An old Earth expression. It means we’ve reached our destination.” And still no sign of a guard or anyone else. They’d been lucky so far.
Lyneea pointed to the ground at their feet. It was a smooth patch, nestled between two of the tree’s immense roots and covered, like everything else in Besidia, with snow. “Here?” she asked.
“Here.”
She removed a pouch from her belt, knelt, and emptied its contents on the frozen ground. It was a small sharp-bladed shovel that came in two parts. As Lyneea put them together, she surveyed the spot.
“He couldn’t have buried it too deep, right? That would have taken too much time.”
Riker shrugged. “I don’t know. If he was using a blaster, it might not have taken much time at all.”
She looked up at him. “Now there’s a cheery thought.” Then she shook her head. “No. A blaster would have scarred these roots. And I don’t see any scars.” She jammed the shovel blade into the earth. “Why don’t you keep an eye out while I do some work?”
As she bent to the task, the human surveyed the grounds of the estate. They were as tranquil as deep space, as serene as an uninhabited planetoid. A light breeze tickled the hair on his chin where it jutted out from his hood.
The house might have been empty, it was so quiet—though, more likely, it was just that no one was up yet. On the side of the structure that faced them there was a large oval window. Inside it Riker could see the well-appointed library that he and Teller had once visited.
He watched the window for a couple of seconds, just to make certain no one was looking out at them. Satisfied, he turned away.
But as he did so, he glimpsed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Ducking instinctively behind the tree, he took another look.
This time there was no mistaking it. Someone was on the other side of the window. And not just anyone.
A Ferengi.
“Damn,” he said.
When Lyneea saw him take cover, she’d hunkered down a little lower herself. “What is it?” she asked. “Have we been seen?”
Riker shook his head. “That’s not what made me jump.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the house. “There’s a Ferengi in there.”
Lyneea regarded him. “Are you certain?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
She peeked around the side of the tree. And cursed.
“There aren’t supposed to be any Ferengi on Imprima,” said Lyneea. “Under penalty of law.”
“But there’s one here,” said Riker. “Smuggled in somehow as the guest of Madraga Terrin.”
She took a breath, let it out. It dissipated on the wind. “Treachery,” she concluded.
Riker nodded. “Terrin hasn’t fared