A heavy, aromatic hand fell on my shoulder. "Captain Jordan McKell?"
I turned. Two of the Ihmis wardens had come unglued from their posts and werestanding behind me, impressive and intimidating in their ceremonial helmets.
"I'm McKell," I confirmed cautiously.
"Come with us, please," the Ihmisit with his hand still on my shoulder said.
"Port Director Aymi-Mastr would like to speak to you."
"Sure," I said as casually as I could manage with a suddenly pounding heart asthey gestured to the side and we worked our way across the pedestrian streamtoward the Meima Port Authority building just inside the fence twenty metersaway. Our papers were in order, our cargo cleared, our fees paid. Had someonefinally backtracked one of Brother John's cargoes to the Stormy Banks? If so, we were going to have some very awkward explaining to do.
I'd never been in this particular Port Authority before, but I'd logged enoughhours in Ihmis hotels and tavernos to have a pretty good idea what to expect.
And I was mostly right. The friendly lighting, extremely casual furniture, andsmiling faces were hallmarks of the Ihmis style, all designed to put visitorsat their ease.
From what I'd heard, all those same friendly touches remained cheerfully inplace right up to the point when they strapped you to the rack and startedcranking.
"Ah—Captain McKell," a deep voice called as I was led across the bustling mainroom to a large and cluttered desk in the corner. Director Aymi-Mastr wastypical of the species, with bulging, froglike eyes, four short insectoidantennae coming up from just above those eyes, and costal ridges around thesides of the face and neck. A female, of course; with Ihmisits the females were generally the ones with the organizational skills necessary to run a zoo likethis. "Good of you to drop by. Please sit down."