Get us the sale, Blueshell. Greenstalk will be okay.... OOB: Plan B." He grabbed a headset and pushed off from the console. Ravna rose with him. "Where are you going?" He grinned. "Out. I thought Saint Rihndell might lose his halo when the crunch came -- and I made plans." She followed him as he glided toward the floor hatch. "Look. I want you to stay on deck. I can only carry so much snoop equipment; I'll need your coordination." "But --" He went through the hatch head first, missing the rest of her objection. She didn't follow, but a second later her voice was back, in his headset. Some of the tremor was gone from her voice; the old Ravna was there, fighting out from under her other problems. "Okay, I'll back you ... but what can we do?" Pham pulled himself hand over hand down the passageway, accelerating to a speed that would have left a lubber caroming off the walls. Ahead loomed the uncompromising wall of the cargo lock. He swatted a hand gently at the wall and flipped head over heels. He dragged his hands precisely against the wall flanges,
复件 (5) air max1, slowing just enough so the impact with the hatch did not break his ankles. Inside the lock, the ship had his suit already power up. "Pham, you can't go out." Evidently she was watching through the lock's cameras. "They'll know we're a human expedition." His head and shoulders were already in the suit's top shell. He felt the bottom pushing up around him,
复件 (91) air max1, the seals fastening. "Not necessarily." And by now it probably doesn't matter. "There are plenty of two-arm/two-leg critters around, and I've glued some camouflage to this outfit." He cupped his chin in the helmet controls and reset the displays. The armored pressure suit was a very primitive thing compared to the field suits of Relay. Yet the Qeng Ho would have given a starship for this gear. He'd originally put the thing together to impress the Tines, but it's going to get some early testing. He chinned up the outside view, what Ravna was seeing: his figure was unrelieved black, more than two meters tall. The hands were backed with carapace-claws and every edge of his figure was razor sharp and spined. These most recent additions should break the lines of the strictly human form,
mbt tembea black, and hopefully be intimidating as hell. Pham cycled the lock and pushed off, into the wormheads' terrane. Walls of mud stood all around, misty in humid air and swarms of insects. Ravna's voice was in his ear. "I've got a low-level query,
复件 (34) air max1, probably automatic: 'Why you send third negotiator?'" "Ignore it." "Pham, be careful. These Middle Beyond cultures,
复件 (98) air max, the old ones, they keep nasty things in reserve. Otherwise they wouldn't still be around." "I'll be a good citizen." As long as I'm treated nice. He was already halfway to the concourse gate. He chinned up a small window from Blueshell's camera. All this high-bandwidth comm was courtesy of the local net. Strange that Rihndell was still providing the service. Blueshell seemed to be negotiating still. Maybe there wasn't a scam ... or anyway, not one that Saint Rihndell was in on. "Pham, I've lost the video from Greenstalk, just as she went into some kind of tunnel. Her location beacon is still clear." The concourse gate made an opening for him, and then Pham was in the crowded,
复件 (86) air max2, market volume. He heard the raucous hubbub even through his armor. He moved slowly, sticking to the most uncrowded paths, following guide ropes that threaded the space. The mob was no problem. Everyone made way, some with almost panicky haste. Pham didn't know whether it was his razor spines or the trace of chlorine his suit "leaked".
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2 Lv good
Linear Mode
