Unfortunately, neither was the white-haired man I'd been hoping to follow.

I poked around the area for another hour, popping in and out of a few moretavernos and dives on the assumption that my new employer might still betrolling for crewers. But I didn't see him anywhere; and the spaceportperipherywas far too big for a one-man search. Besides, my leg was aching from thatkick to the windbreak, and I needed to be at the spaceport when it opened atfive-thirty.

The Vyssiluyas ran a decent autocab service in their part of the periphery, but that thousand commarks I'd been promised weren't due until I showed up at theIcarus, and the oversize manager of the slightly seedy hotel where Ixil and Iwere staying would be very unhappy if we didn't have the necessary cash to paythe bill in the morning. Reluctantly, I decided that two arguments with largealiens in the same twelve-hour period would be pushing it, and headed back onfoot.

My leg was hurting all the way up to my skull by the time I finished the lastof the four flights of stairs and slid my key into the slot beside the door. Withvisions of a soft bed, gently pulsating Vyssiluyan relaxation lights, and aglass of Scotch dancing with the ache behind my forehead, I pushed open thedoor and stepped inside.

The soft bed and Scotch were still a possibility. But the lights apparentlyweren't. The room was completely dark.

I went the rest of the way into the room in a half fall, half dive that sentme sprawling face first onto the floor as I yanked my plasmic out of its concealed holster under my left armpit. Ixil was supposed to be waiting here; and adarkened room could only mean that someone had taken him out and was lying inwait for me.

"Jordan?" a smooth and very familiar Kalixiri voice called from across theroom.

"Is that you?"

I felt the sudden surge of adrenaline turn into chagrined embarrassment anddrain away through my aching leg where it could hurt some more on its way out.