The Passenger Ch. 09

Oh, and here's something else that most people don't know either about the glamorous and adventurous life of an interstellar cargo hauler: commercial spaceport complexes involve a lot of walking. And I really do mean a lot. Passenger spaceports usually have some sort of automated personal transportation, but the design of passenger terminals is mostly based on the fact that many species like to travel with their own kind. For example, you rarely see a Tragulan on a human passenger liner, because that would make everyone deeply unhappy, especially around dinner time. And a K'trahoon simply won't be able to go down a corridor designed for most other species without leaving most of itself smeared all over the floors and walls. But even apart from such extremes, most species tend not to intermingle too much. So passenger terminals are divided into sections designed to deal with different species or groups of species.

Commercial spaceport complexes, on the other hand, are all about business. They mostly lack the niceties and comforts to make your stay more comfortable, and you simply deal with it. If you live in one of the regions of space dominated by humans and you think that non-human species only play a minor role in interstellar traffic, think again. Or maybe you need to get out more. I can show you places where humans are all but unheard of, let alone catered for. Bring a raincoat.

Anyway, commercial spaceport complexes simply don't have any personal transportation systems to speak of. You walk. Or you slither, or you undulate, or you flap, or whatever mode of locomotion your species employs. And you do quite a lot of it, because commercial spaceports are big. So we walked down the loading platform until we reached the corridor at the far end of it, then we turned left and we followed the signs directing us to the registration and processing facilities. We walked on, corridor after corridor. It took a while.

The hall that houses Central Registration at Radix Mainport 6 is huge and cavernous. At first glance it looks like complete chaos, but in reality it's not that bad. When you enter, an overhead scanner gives you a quick once-over; then the computer assigns you a unique identification and, on a large display using Interworld and whatever the local language of Radix is called, it gives you a number and assigns you to a queue. It's fairly efficient and I like it. It's also a good way to deal with members of different species separately, which helps to minimize ruffled feathers-- or fur, hairs, scales, protein layers, gastrodermis or whatever the case may be.

And I haven't even mentioned the fact that every species carries its own odor. Chances these days are that you have never been around animals very much, at least if you live on an urbanized or industrial world. But if you have, you'll know that nine times out of ten each creature carries its own characteristic smell, which is the inevitable result of physiology and body chemistry. Intelligent species are no different. Some smell dry and musty, some pleasant, some ripe and pungent. Sometimes it's almost undetectable, but more often than not it is the first thing you notice. And don't believe for a second that this only applies to non-human beings, either. Humans smell quite revolting to many non-human species.

So it wasn't surprising that our queue was almost exclusively humanoid, as was the staff at the desk we were headed for. In the middle of the hall a small group of Jalaayhi made up most of one queue, their long furry necks craning over everyone else. Over in the far corner, about a dozen Cai'tsk were busily chittering to each other, and I was secretly grateful to be steered clear of them. Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against the Cai'tsk. In fact, I've done business with them in the past. It's just that there is something about their insectoid appearance that gives me the creeps. The Cai'tsk seem to trigger some instinctive response in me that I haven't been able to overcome. Not many species do that to me. But Anne looked at them only with interest, showing nothing like revulsion of fear. Suddenly I felt old-fashioned and provincial, and a little ashamed.

The people in our group were almost exclusively humanoid. Most were in fact humans, with a sprinkling of various other species so close to human it hardly matters. I've never been much convinced by the hypothesis that life in the universe began in one place and then spread out across space somehow. To me, parallel evolution perfectly explains why the symmetrical, bipedal and erect configuration is so common throughout the galaxy. And let's be honest: the human body is not the most efficient option by far. Silonians are almost identical to humans, except for the fact they have no hair on their heads but a thick, helmet-like layer of bone instead to accommodate the second pair of eyes they have in the backs of their heads. Being able to see both in front of you and behind you at the same time makes much more sense to me from a survival standpoint, if you ask me. Having said that, I do admit that many of the minor variations on the humanoid form, from green and scaly skins to lack of a nose, or having fewer or more than five fingers and toes, are harder to explain.

But I gave no thought to these things right now, because all around us, human males began to stir. Suddenly they seemed more alert, looking around and standing up straighter. I smiled when I realized what was happening. But my smile froze on my face when I realized one major downside of our little anti-detection scheme: Anne had better not venture into the seedier parts of the space port complex all by herself while her pheromones were turning her into a man-magnet. I carefully checked around us, but so far we didn't seem to be in any immediate danger of becoming the epicenter of a massive sex crime. Anne was certainly being noticed, though. I could almost hear the vertebrae popping as almost every man around us turned his head. The women were less impressed, though, and I could see a few withering looks being directed at men who showed their interest a little too openly.

Then I noticed that something strange was happening to me. And it was the last thing I would have expected. Suddenly I was feeling very protective toward Anne.

I've never thought of myself as a jealous sort of guy. When Lisa was still working as a waitress on the little backwater world where we both grew up, one of her customers got a little too hands-on with her, and I knocked him around a little to make him stop. But that was me defending her, more than anything else, or at least that's how I've always thought about it. Other than that, I've never tried to be the hero who gallantly defends his women. But somehow this was different. The wolves were all around us now, closing in and licking their chops, and suddenly I worried about how to keep them at bay. Of course, after hauling cargo and trading goods between different worlds I was accustomed to the idea of competition, but this was different. Quite different.

But nothing bad happened, and eventually we reached the checkpoint, where all my concerns were replaced with a single and far more urgent one. This was it. Now we'd find out if our strategy would work or not. Suddenly I had some serious doubts about this whole crazy idea. What in the the name of all that's unholy were we thinking?

Our plan of using Anne's ramped-up pheromones to overwhelm any detection equipment that might otherwise respond to her AI brain and other artificial components was based on one, and only one thing: the spacers and passengers going through spaceport entrance checks every single day are so varied that the sensitivity of automatic detectors has to be limited. Scanning for slight chemical or metallic tracers to detect illegal substances, weapons or technology is difficult, because the physical makeup of half your customers will cause false positives all the time. While a little over half of all species is built roughly along humanoid lines (walking erect, two arms, two legs, hands, feet, a head with eyes, ears, a nose and mouth) the differences are still far too great for automatics to be 100% reliable, so the scanners only detect major deviations from the baseline. Scanning for implants is a little more reliable, but still not enough, what with many species having significant amounts of metals in their tissues and circulatory fluids. And X-rays, magnetic resonance, quantum interference detectors or other technologies that can see inside the human body are harmless to some, but instantly lethal to others, and that would ruin everyone's day at the checkpoints.

So the detection systems are by necessity limited to general and non-invasive ways of scanning and testing the properties of individuals against the common parameters of their species, and they rely mostly on the operator's judgment. A skilled and experienced operator has to interpret the readings and decide whether or not the subject being scanned is suspect or not. On planets that only allow humans to enter, that would of course be entirely different, but fortunately those are far and few between and we could simply avoid them. On normal, multi-species worlds an operator would always be a vital link in the chain, and as long as he was human and male, Anne's pheromones could mess with his head. Fortunately, security is still a male-dominated profession, and most security checkpoint operators work best with their own species. So as long as we limited ourselves to large, multi-species spaceports, the odds would be well in our favor. And none of that made me feel any more confident.

Showtime. Anne was ahead of me in the queue, which would allow me to deal with any contingencies before I myself was processed. At least that's what we told ourselves, because I had no idea what I could do if something went wrong. So I tried to look tired and impatient, which is how I've felt most of the time in places like this. I think I managed not to tense up when Anne approached the pylons that housed the scanning equipment. But nothing happened; no alarms went off. Anne's massive output of pheromones seemed to have convinced the scanners that she was at least sufficiently human, and whatever else they might have detected was too insignificant to raise any flags. Which meant it was now up to the operators at the desk.

The two uniformed security types at the checkpoint were solidly built and smoothly shaven, with military looking buzz cuts. Even in the shower they'd still have 'cop' written all over them. One was sitting at a battery of scanner displays. The other stood next to the desk, checking IDs. But the looks in their eyes changed when they saw Anne.

The first one made a show of accepting her ID chip and inserting it into his handheld reader. The other didn't even bother to look at his scanner display at all. She could have been loaded with biochem weaponry or cortex bombs for all he cared.

"Miss... Anne Ryder," the first one said, glancing at his display.

Anne nodded and smiled at him. For a moment I thought that might have been a mistake, but after a few seconds he did remember to close his mouth. The scanner operator hadn't. He was too busy scanning her with his eyes. Or perhaps undressing her with his eyes would be a more accurate description.

"And what brings you to Radix, miss Ryder?"

"I live here", she said, cranking up the smile another notch. "I left for Ursa a few weeks ago on business, and now I'm returning home."

"I... see," the security guy lied, barely glancing at the personal record on his display. "If I could have your genome scan, miss Ryder? Place your finger here, please?"

Completely unnecessarily, he took Anne's hand and "assisted" her in putting her fingertip on the scanning pad set into his display. The system confirmed that her DNA matched the pattern on file with her other ID details, and a little green light came on.

The security guy smiled and nodded, holding out her ID chip.

"Thank you, miss Ryder. Welcome back to Radix."

Anne hit him with her megawatt smile again. She accepted her ID chip, turned up the power of her smile even further, and nodded.

"Thank you," she said in her sweetest voice, and started walking. I had long since stopped worrying about the display operator. He was too busy copying Anne's residential and contact details from the computer screen. The other security guy followed her with his eyes. His gaze was riveted to the glorious curves of her ass, and I swear there was just a little more swing and wiggle in there than usual. With each step she took, those glorious buns moved under her clothing in a way that was just a little more joyous than I'd ever seen before. She was actually enjoying this!

Then it was my turn, but I breezed through security more easily than ever before. I was Captain Harvey Ross, uninteresting interstellar cargo shipper, arriving on Radix with a boring load of Gawrran wood panels, and where was that smoking hot blonde off to? They were still thinking about Anne and about they still had to go until their shifts would end.

"You're enjoying this far too much," I said softly as I caught up with her in the exit corridor.

"Well, you know, it's nice to be appreciated every now and then."

"Ouch," I said, giving her a mock injured look. "That hurts."

She giggled.

"Sorry, my brave and wonderful captain. I couldn't resist that one."

"You are entirely forgiven, my loyal crew. But just wait until this suppressant I'm on starts to wear off, and then I'll show you some appreciation."

She smiled.

"Hmmm... That sounds good."

"Yeah," I said. "But first things first."

We exited the corridor into the central hall, which was somewhat like a huge indoor market square, ringed with shops and bars. A variety of people milled around in it, and I saw at least a few dozen different species, although more than half of of the crowd was human. A row of information consoles formed a line along the center. We headed for the first one. Anne continued to attract admiring glances, and I made a mental note to ask Por for something that could quickly cancel the effects of his concoction. As it was, we'd have to deal with its effects for at least another hour or two, and that might be a problem. For now we'd simply have to stay here, in a public place crowded with lots of security systems that monitored everyone minutely, and we'd just have to wait for it to wear off.

With the time we'd lost when we dropped out of hyperspace mid-flight, the Starman's Pride was sure to have landed well before we did. So I punched an inquiry into the information console for the 'Prides registration details. A moment later they appeared on the display, along with the time of landing and the loading bay number. Just to be on the safe side, I entered inquiries for three other ships as well in case someone was keeping an eye on the system's log files. Maybe I was paranoid and the peering eyes that I was trying to avoid weren't there. Or maybe not.

So now we knew where the 'Pride was, and hopefully Raz was in it, waiting for us but we'd still have to wait here, until Anne was no longer a gang rape looking for a place to happen. Right now I wasn't about to take her into the quieter and less intensively monitored areas of the spaceport. My unexpected protectiveness was suddenly back in full force. Every head that turned in passing made me more uneasy, and the long, speculating looks she was getting had me even more worried.

But it wouldn't do to simply stand here. Rather than go for one of the restaurants or bars, we sought out the row of automated kiosks next to the row of information displays. Of course we had to use our ID chips to pay, but I wasn't too worried that would raise any flags. What more natural behavior for a pair of freshly arrived and weary travelers than to get a drink from an autovendor? Actually, I could have used a stiff drink at that point, but for the moment I settled for my usual jolt of steaming hot caffeine. Anne got one of her usual sweet concoctions. For stuff from an autovendor it wasn't bad.

We stood and sipped for a minute. There are no public seating areas in the central hall; the types of seating required by different species are too varied to make that practical. That's one reason why the bars and restaurants at the periphery of the hall are doing so well: they're more specialized and they focus on certain groups of species, which makes them pretty much the only place where you can sit and relax or do business.

Then I heard a soft growl behind me. Anne's face lit up.

"Raz!" she said. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Yes," I said, turning around. "But more to the point, how did you know we were here?"

He smiled his good smile.

"I still know how to put an unobtrrrusive trrriggerrr into the inforrrmation system. You enterrred an inquirrry forrr the 'Prrride. The networrrk sent me a notice, and frrrom the details I knew wherrre it orrriginated. I came down to have a discrrreet look at whomeverrr had sent it. It had to be eitherrr you orrr someone else. If the latterrr, I would verrry much like to learrrn the identity of the inquirrring parrty. Eitherrr way, herrre I am, and I am pleased to see you both. You arrre considerrrably late."

"We had an unexpected hold-up," I explained. "Our course took us past a demon hole, and it pulled us out of hyperspace. But as you can see, we managed to make it."

"Rrrr."

Raz has never been stupid. He knew our navigation computer was simply not capable of working out hyperspace solutions. He also knew I was even less able to do anything remotely like that. So there was only one remaining possibility, and he knew exactly what had happened.

"Arrre you alrrright?" was all he asked.

"It was a little worrying back there for a while," I said. "But we got over it."

Anne smiled at him, and I realized that she knew that Raz knew. She's never been stupid, either.

"I'm fine, Raz," she said.

Raz looked at both of us for a long moment, then nodded.

"Rrrr. Good. I'm glad. Doctorrr Por'krallarahrrr appearrrs to have done good worrrk as well."

"You mean you haven't noticed?" I said dryly.

Gawrrans have a predator's finely developed smell, and there was no way his nose hadn't told him yet about Anne's aura of I-need-to-be-fucked-senseless-right-now pheromone signals. Not to mention the pheromone response in any male who came close to her. But while she still turned heads and attracted longing stares, Raz' presence seemed to have a rather discouraging effect, something for which I was secretly grateful.

"Of courrrse I have noticed, Harrrvey. And the fact that you arrrived herrre indicates that ourrr plan was successful. But therrre arrre always details. And of courrrse I am still verrry interrrested in developing an effective aphrrrodisiac prrroduct forrr the humnan marrrket. As you well know."

Anne chuckled.

"Our initial research in that area has shown encouraging results, Raz," she said. "You'll understand if we spare you the details for now."

Raz smiled his good smile.

"Then I suggest we rrreturrrn to the Starrrman's Prrride and continue ourrr discussions therrre. Ourrr prrreparrrations arrre nearrrly complete. I have located Deke Rrryderrr, and I have a buyerrr forrr yourrr carrrgo, so we arrre rrready to starrrt unloading. The 'Prrride is loaded and serrrviced alrrready, so I suggest that I trrransporrrt ourrr guest to his final destination."

"Final, Raz?" I said, giving him what I hoped was a long, hard look. "How final?"

"Manaka, Harrrvey. Therrre arrre still things we need frrrom him, so he will arrrive therrre alive, fearrr not. But he will not leave Manaka."

"Fair enough. Let's go then. Anne is attracting far too much attention here."

Anne laughed, and I knew I had been right the first time: she was enjoying this far too much.