The stone around Annet n'Lor groaned softly as it tumbled out of shadow. The tunnel filled with chirps and pops as the irregular little moon warmed. Annet's feet barely touched the floor as she skip-walked further down the narrow, sloping passage, gravity this close to the center of spin all but gone. Her fingers brushed the cool ceiling as she steadied herself with a hand overhead. She closed her eyes while a scan beam swept over her, the laser bright even through her closed eyelids. Satisfied that she was, in fact, nothing more than a skinny human girl in a hand-me-down jacket three sizes too large, the security net opened the final doorway.
Ahead, the tunnel emptied into a domed chamber, the walls lost in shadow. A lone figure stood on a platform near the center, his back turned. He seemed unaware of Annet's approach. She paused at the tunnel mouth and waited for him to notice.
"Odd.... I was expecting someone more experienced."
Annet spun around, startled by a voice behind her. A bright spotlight flashed in her eyes. It blinded her momentarily, the light warm on her face. Vaguely, she saw a mirror image of the man on the platform drop with cat's grace from a hidden upper passage. She swallowed, refusing to let her fear show.
"My uncles send their apologies, but are unable to come." She tried to gauge his reaction. "They sent me in their stead."
"Did they now?" The man waved his hand at a nearby sensor and the spotlight faded as he moved closer. His long coat fluttered around him like folded wings. She caught a brief glimpse of the pistol holstered on his thigh. "And you are also a translator?"
"Yes, ser' Heflin." Annet stole a glance over her shoulder, not anxious to be caught between two men so far from the public tunnels. To her relief, the first figure blinked out of existence. The hologram faded as the man from above edged closer. She turned back to him, but kept her hands plainly in view. "You are, Mika Heflin, aren't you?"
Heflin ignored her question. He drifted in a wide, easy circle until he occupied the same low dais his image held only heartbeats before. Lights rose, the rough-cut walls scarred and undressed, the few furnishings expensive beyond anything Annet had ever seen. Details on the man resolved as well. His face was lined, with narrow eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He had thin lips set above a broad, powerful chin. His clothing, like the room, was Spartan but expensive. His tall, soft boots creaked gently when he shifted weight. Even in the low gravity he seemed heavy, impossibly solid, as if the tiny moon revolved around him instead of the gas giant it orbited. A sardonic smile creased his weathered face.
"I assume you speak Trader Pig?"
Va, mae trang uni, Heflin 'ser.
"That's enough." He waved her to silence. "If I understood trade speak I wouldn't have needed a translator, now would I?"
"No, Heflin 'ser.
"Did your uncles mention this job entails leaving Varka Point?"
"They said it was off-board work." She patted the duffel at her side. "I came ready for travel."
"I don't suppose they told you it was out of system as well?"
Annet's eyes widened. "No, 'ser. They didn't mention the end-point."
"And neither will I. Not until we're underway. Does going to another system frighten you,?"
"A little."
"Good. You're honest. I can work with that." Heflin sighed, and his face softened. "But, you would be well served to practice hiding your emotions better. Do you play poker?"
The question caught her off-guard. "No."
"Well, we should have plenty of time for me to teach you. It's a long voyage." His smile faded. "Trust me, where we're going a good poker face is worth more than fuel. Do you have a name, young translator?"
"Annet, " she answered, put off once more by the conversation's fast turn. "Annet n'Lor."
"Come along then, Annet n'Lor." Heflin turned toward yet another passage, where he paused, looking over his shoulder. "And you can call me Mika."
She nodded, lifted her duffel, and followed him out.
)
