Sharon Green - Diana Santee 3 -Tanderon

Tanderon

Diana Santee - Spaceways Agent

Sharon Green

Chapter 1

"Ringer, I want out of here," I insisted, wrapping my hand around the bed's safety

rail. "Two weeks in a hospital bed are enough to drive someone crazy!"

"You have nothing to worry about," Ringer came back with a faint grin from the

chair he sat in. "Only sane people are in danger of going crazy."

"That's not funny," I told him, rising up onto my knees. "If you can't talk Val into

signing me out then do it yourself, but just get it done! I've had enough of this

place."

Ringer's sharp, black-eyed stare moved to me fast, showing how pleased he was

with my tone, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead he took a cigarette out of his

pocket and lit it, exhaled smoke in my direction, then got out of the chair.

"Valdon is not going to be signing you out," he said at last, standing himself right

next to the bed. "You've been off the pain killers for less than a week, and if you've

forgotten how badly hurt you were, he and I haven't. You don't move out of that bed

until a doctor gives his permission, and I don't care how bored you are."

The growl in his voice was flat and final, leaving no room for argument, but I'd

known Ringer a long time. It's not always possible to argue with him, but sometimes

he's vulnerable to reason.

"Do you really think I've forgotten how bad it was?" I asked, wrapping my arms

around myself as my mind touched fleetingly on the memory of the beating I'd gone

through. Cause and effect, like the chicken and the egg question, usually comes

down to a matter of which brings what about.

Do I always get the problem assignments because I'm a Special Agent, or do my

assignments grow complications because a Special Agent is involved? Either way,

my last assignment had been purely routine until a painful complication arose, and

even years of experience in ducking at the right time hadn't helped. I'd been in a bad

way when I was brought to the hospital section of Xanadu Orbital Station, but even

if I would not be forgetting it for a while, I had to separate Ringer from the memory.

"I'm not as irresponsible as you like to picture me," I went on, meeting Ringer's eyes

in a quiet, reasonable way. "Having been a Federation agent for twelve years has

given me some idea about what I can and can't do. Don't you think I'd stay here if I

really needed to?"

Ringer took a drag on his cigarette and shifted his short, pudgy body very slightly, a

thoughtful look on his face. Ringer, Chief of Agents for our Federation, looked like

he might be a salesman of something unimportant. He was short, stout,

conservatively dressed in a dark green four-piece business suit, usually unsmiling

and usually annoyed about something.

Possibly, Ringer's brown hair was a trifle too long for your everyday salesman, his

black eyes a trifle too hard, his movements too well balanced and coordinated. Even

so, few people would have taken him for a Special Agent who had lived to be

promoted to Chief of Agents.

Ringer's pudgy look was almost all camouflage, hiding bands of muscle that hadn't

been given a chance to go soft, and he hadn't forgotten any of the skills he'd

acquired as an agent. I'd worked for Ringer for nine years, ever since he'd been

given the job, and I'd never seen him back down from a threat or apologize when

giving out assignments.

Ringer's eyes moved over me slowly as he considered my words, and it took an

effort to remember what he now saw. My normal self-image is of a thirty-year-old

woman, brown hair and eyes, tall, better than average figure, a Special Agent for nine

of the twelve years I'd been an agent. But that wasn't what Ringer saw, not after

another little mishap I'd had which involved getting sent on a one-way trip to

nowhere. The disabled ship I'd been trapped on had been stopped by members of a

humanoid race my own people had no idea existed. I'd ended up helping them with a

problem they'd had, in order to say a proper thank-you for the rescue.

And since the help had included needing my physical appearance changed, what

Ringer now saw was a fifteen-year-old girl who had long, bright red hair, blue eyes, a

gorgeous face, and the same good figure. I knelt on the bed I'd been in for so long,

the hem of the blue hospital gown not quite touching my knees, my hands on the

bed's side rail, undoubtedly oozing innocence, youth, and vulnerability.

I'd once thought that looking teenage, innocent, and very beautiful would be an asset

in my job, something that would produce the unbeatable combination of supposed

inability hiding deep experience, but things weren't working out as well as I'd

planned. Two weeks of chewing at the problem had brought me to the conclusion

that I'd be better off going back to the way I'd originally been. The first step on that

road, though, was getting out of the hospital section of Xanadu Orbital Station.

Under normal circumstances I'd be able to sign myself out, but looking as I did - not

to mention that I registered just as young on a bio-detector - I needed an "adult" to

do the signing. Needless to say, that fact alone was enough to annoy the hell out of

me.

"You know," Ringer mused, the thoughtful look having left his face, "I nearly forgot

who I was talking to. Do you really think you can con me, Diana?"

"Con you?" I echoed, still sticking with reasonable. "What would I get out of

conning you?"

"What do you ever get out of it?" he countered, exhaling another lungful of smoke.

"The last time you signed yourself out of a hospital before you were officially

released, your wound was bleeding again the very next day. I can't blame you for the

way you feel about hospitals, but this time you don't have the excuse of an

assignment waiting that can't afford to wait. You'll stay in that bed until you're told

you can leave, and that's an order."

I had the very strong urge to tell him what he could do with his orders, but that

wouldn't have gotten me very far. He continued to watch me just as closely as he'd

been doing all along, waiting for an explosion, so I decided not to disappoint him.

"Damn it, I'm all healed!" I shouted, grabbing the bed rail and shaking it. "The

surroskin is completely bound to my back, and these bandages on my wrists are the

next thing to decoration! Do I have to take on everyone in this place hand to hand

before you'll believe me?"

"Believe you?" He barked out a laugh. "You've got to be kidding. You stretch the

truth whenever you feel like it, but I'm all through with listening to you. For once you

won't be having everything your own way, and that's an experience you've been

needing for years. Scream all you like, but no one will be signing you out."

He poked a finger at me to emphasize his point, turned away, walked to the door,

and left without another word. I was so annoyed I could have shaken that damned

bed apart, but not because Ringer's attitude was unexpected. It would have been

handy having him sign me out of there, but I hadn't thought he would. He had his

own reasons for wanting me locked up in a hospital room, and the state of my health

was only one small part of it.

I glanced over at the door before stretching out flat on my back on the bed, then

held up my bandaged wrists in front of my eyes. Although the bandages were more

than the decorations I'd told Ringer they were, my wrists were healed well enough to

be no more than an annoyance. If Ringer had had an assignment for me he wouldn't

have hesitated long enough even to remember my wrists, let alone pester me about

them. But assignments weren't supposed to be coming my way for a while. Ringer

and the Federation Council had something else in mind for me, plans I'd had the time

to do a lot of thinking about over the past two weeks.

Due to the small mishap I mentioned, I ended up discovering an entire Confederacy

of humanoids previously unknown to anyone in my Federation. They had known

about us, though, and I'd helped out with a problem they'd had, acquiring, in the

process, the new face I'd thought would do me so much good. They'd then sent me

back home with an introduction from their central government to mine, suggesting

that our two civilizations begin friendly negotiations.

I'd brought a man of their civilization back with me, but not because Val was their

choice of a representative. Valdon - plus a long list of other names - had been my

own choice as a candidate for swapping, as he possessed what was called original

Absari blood. That means his gene makeup lets him change his features and voice

and build to match anyone he's ever seen, a talent worth having in my line of work. I

would have been able to make good use of Val while he partnered with me, but his

pig-headed stubbornness had wrecked things right from the very start.

Val didn't care much for taking orders from me, and when I'd gotten myself into an

unpleasant situation he'd ignored everything I'd told him and had come charging to

my rescue. The gesture may have saved me some pain, but he came that close to

getting the two of us killed and when the Council heard about it they'd needed

emergency first-aid.

Since the Council had already started moving on establishing friendly relations with

Val's people, they hadn't been happy about what had nearly happened. They'd

pictured themselves having to announce Val's death at the first conference, had

nearly had apoplexy over the vision, then had turned around and blamed me for what

Val had done.

Everyone was insisting that I hadn't given Val enough information to work with,

thereby putting him in danger of nearly losing his life, but I knew Council methods

and practices better than that. If any of the Council members had really been after

my head they would have sent investigators around to compile data for a closed

hearing, then would have hit me with it all at once. The fact that no investigators or

hearings were involved meant the Council knew damned well they couldn't make the

charges stick, but unimportant facts like that didn't seem to be interrupting their sleep

much. They'd gone blithely along with everything Ringer had suggested about

keeping me tied down, and had probably grinned while doing it.

A good ten minutes had gone by since Ringer had exited stage right, so I sat up in

the bed, pressed the switch that lowered the safety rail, then climbed out onto the

floor. Standing up didn't take much effort anymore, but my body still echoed faintly

to the memories of the past two weeks. I could have used somewhere quiet and

unofficial for another week or so, but cutting myself loose from ties and tails had a

higher priority.

Ringer, with the Council's blessing, was sending me back to the training facilities on

Tanderon as a cadet, a punishment none of them would have thought of if it hadn't

been for my new, young look. I'd also be traveling as a minor for as long as they got

a kick out of it, supposedly waiting patiently to get back into their good graces, and

that was one of the things that bothered me most. If they'd really thought I was guilty

of what they were charging me with, they would have been within their rights to do

anything they pleased, even if I was, in truth, innocent.

What put a bad taste in my mouth was the fact that they knew I was innocent, but

were jumping on me anyway. I'd worked for the Council a long time, and although

I'd never asked for or expected their thanks, I should have been entitled to more than

a fast shuffle.

I crouched down beside the bed in an effort to get some of the stiffness out of my

leg muscles, at the same time thinking about the second point that bothered me in

that mess. Val, my brand-new partner, the one I'd had such high hopes for, was

more than not working out in a simple way. It was bad enough that he refused to

take my orders and spent most of his time trying to protect me. What was infinitely

worse was the conviction I had that he was after something, a something that

amounted to more than the casual bed-sharing we'd been engaged in for the past

couple of months.

At first, I'd been sure that he understood there couldn't be more with a Special

Agent, not with the string of question marks my life expectancy was composed of.

The problem was, that stubborn streak in him tended to ignore what it didn't want to

see. Somehow, during the two months traveling time we'd spent alone together

coming back to Federation space, he'd gotten to me. I was … used to being held in

his arms, his lips warm and alive on mine, his body giving me more than I'd ever

before had from a man…

To me, of course, it was nothing beyond that, nothing but pleasant, casual sex, but

Val seemed to be trying to read something more into it. I had to show him he was

wrong as fast as I could, and one way of doing that was separating myself from his

company. By the time I got back again from the Confederacy outpost where I would

be changed back to normal, both he and the Council should have forgotten all about

the axes they'd been grinding.

I stood straight again and pulled off the hospital gown, tossed it onto the bed, then

lifted the mattress and retrieved the nurse's uniform I'd liberated during the last

"night" shift. If Ringer had signed me out I wouldn't have needed the uniform, but it

never hurts to be prepared.

The uniform was slightly too big on me, but as far as potential witnesses are

concerned, that's better than having it be too small. After the uniform was closed and

belted, I got my makeup kit, carried it over to the table and chairs arrangement

across from the bed, then got down to the important part of the disguise.

Knowing Ringer, the Station's computer was already alerted to be on the lookout for

me, and a Station's computer has too many eyes for someone to be able to avoid

them completely. If I'd just tried to walk out of my room, even in a nurse's uniform, I

wouldn't have gotten very far. It would have taken all of three steps beyond the

hospital area before alarms went off and Station security men were sent running from

their various posts. Security is usually tight with a computer on watch, but having

just a little basic information on a subject sometimes gives you what you need to

circumvent even the tightest of security systems.

I had a friend whose specialty is computers, and that friend had once told me a bit

about how Station computers see. The one point that had stuck in my mind was an

odd fact that only a few people know. Ordinary tritium foil tends to disrupt a

computer's vision, and the computer is therefore programmed to ignore the

disruption in order to protect the balance of its visuals. And since tritium is used

almost exclusively inside things rather than outside, the problem wasn't one anyone

had searched to find a more permanent answer for.

So I'd had no trouble collecting small amounts of tritium foil from sugar packets and

the like, and had shredded it up into the smallest size manageable. Now the shredded

material was ready to be mixed with my liquid face makeup, which I quickly

proceeded to do. I wasn't sure the dodge would work the way I wanted it to, but

there was only one way to find out.

When I was all through applying the mess, the effect was better than I'd thought it

would be. The amount of foil was enough to cover most of my face, and mixed in

with the makeup it looked as though I had a bad acne condition. Close-up inspection

would have shown what the real story was, which meant it was up to me to see that

any inspectors stayed at a distance. I packed up the makeup kit and put it away,

rinsed the mess off my fingers, then got out the wide headscarf some of the nurses

wore. Red hair will attract notice of its own, so I shoved all ends under the scarf for

a flat, unkempt look, gave the room one last glance, then got the show on the road.

The area beyond my room was corridor wide, with no more than a cleaning cart with

its usual paraphernalia against a wall across the way. There was a nurse's station to

the left, with two nurses standing behind the counter and a third standing in front of

it. The three were so deep in whispered conversation, though, that they didn't notice

me as I turned to the right and walked up the corridor. There were five or six rooms

to pass before I got to the door that led out of the area, but most of the rooms were

empty. Because of all the emptiness and distraction, no one saw me as I strode into

the outside corridor that led to the rest of the Station and then turned left.

Orbital stations are all built along the same lines, so knowing the layout of one means

knowing them all. The corridor I entered was carpeted in green, rich carpeting but

the sort to withstand foot traffic without fraying too quickly. There was usually

plenty of foot traffic along that corridor, caused by the fact that it led from the huge

docking areas, past the registration alcoves, past the hospital area, to the Station's

eating and amusement areas. A number of people strolled along taking their time, a

few others hurried either to or from the docking area, and all in all no more than a

glance or two came my way. I moved along with the rest of the walkers, matching

their pace, a reserved, almost icy expression on my face as I held myself aloof from

all contact and conversation.

The artificial gravity field of a station being what it is, drop chutes are impossible to

use. With walking the only alternative to elevators, people used elevators on Stations

without any complaints. I pushed the elevator call with impatience, looking up to see

what level the car was on, but the action was just part of the role I now played. A

young couple stood to the right of the doors, obviously also waiting for the elevator,

but just as obviously completely wrapped up in each other.

No one else seemed to be stopping at the elevator, happily making the position a

fairly safe one, but I found myself hoping hard that Ringer had gone on to lunch the

way he was supposed to. I had some preliminary work to see to before I got down

to seriously looking for a way out. Having Ringer show up at the wrong time and

place would do more than produce complications.

When the elevator doors opened, three well-dressed people stepped out of it and

walked past me toward the dining rooms. I gave the docking area a last, wistful

glance before getting into the elevator and pressing Ringer's room level, but the

glance was just wishful thinking. As young as I looked and registered right now,

stealing a liner ride would have been just about impossible. Too many questions

come at youngsters traveling alone, and there's no way to bluff your way past a

bio-detector. The only direction left open to me was taking care of the preliminaries

and then playing it by ear, watching closely to see what developed.

The young couple got into the elevator with me, but they got out on the very next

level. I listened to the soft, relaxing - and boring - music for one more level worth,

then got out myself and started to check door numbers. The walls on this level were

prettily papered, the doors were of a solid blue to match the blue and white walls,

and the carpeting was just a little more plush than the corridor carpeting above.

A station's residential area is always better- furnished than the public areas, but better

comes in many grades. Ringer had taken a single room in the medium-priced

category, and as I stopped in front of his door I made a mental note of his touching

care with departmental funds. Most Special Agents aren't that careful, so nine years

of being out of the thick of things had obviously changed him. The slim and rounded

pieces of metal I'd had the foresight to bring with me let me into his room, and I

immediately began looking around to see if he'd changed in more important ways.

Ringer's clothes were all unpacked and put away in drawers and closets, but he

hadn't slipped so far that his credentials were anywhere in easy reach. I took his bag

out of the closet and opened it to find nothing, then pressed the sides and top in the

correct sequence. The special compartment slid open to show the bulky set of

official credentials, letting me nod in satisfaction as I removed it and put the bag

back where I'd found it. Ringer hated to carry all those papers in his pockets, so he

usually left them where they would be safe but out of the way. I still didn't know

precisely what I'd be doing, but having those credentials out of Ringer's hands

would make everything a good deal easier.

On the way out I relocked Ringer's door, then called the elevator again. The suite I

shared with Val was one level down, better appointed and therefore more expensive.

Val and I had been trying to show a good-sized credit balance when we'd first

arrived, and the end of the assignment hadn't prompted him to move to more modest

quarters. Of course, Ringer and the Council had let Val stay just as he was to

impress him, but the times he'd visited me in the hospital section hadn't shown him

particularly impressed. He'd taken to chuckling over the trouble I was having with the

Council, and seemed to be looking forward to being senior in rank to me once we

reached Tanderon, the planet where the agent training facilities were located.

The Council had decided to honor Val with the rank of Agent First Class, so my

being made a cadet again would have left him as senior even though he was

scheduled for a procedures course at the facilities. Val kept insisting that the Council

was punishing me for the scare they'd had over my nearly being killed, but that was

ridiculous. That hadn't been the first time I'd come close to dying, or even the

hundredth; I hadn't been able to have Val cover me during the operation, and if

anyone had asked me I might have told them why. But no one had bothered asking,

just the way most people didn't bother, and I'd long since gotten out of the habit of

volunteering what most people couldn't be bothered with listening to.

Walking into my own suite was the riskiest part of the operation, due entirely to the

fact that Val's people had somehow attuned him to me when we were working

together in his part of space. If Val were in the suite he'd know immediately that I'd

come in, but don't ask me how. All I knew was that he could somehow sense me a

good distance away, and the number of walls between us apparently made little

difference.

I eased the suite door closed behind me just in case noise or the lack of it turned out

to make a difference, then began to glance around. The sitting room was gold,

cream, white, and empty, and after quickly making sure about the empty part I heard

the faint sound of the shower going in Val's bathroom. I'd originally planned to stash

Ringer's papers before going after what I needed from Val's room, but the

opportunity was too good to miss. I strode straight into Val's room, found his

papers on top of a low dresser, took what I needed, then hurried back through the

sitting room into my own bedroom.

It took no more than a minute or two to hide my prizes, and then I was able to relax.

I washed the makeup off my face, got rid of the uniform, then put on a shirt and

shorts outfit. The shower sound from Val's bathroom had stopped about halfway

through my dressing, but Val hadn't come bursting into my room with thunder and

lightning blazing in his eyes. That meant the next move was mine, so I went back out

to the sitting room to see what would develop. I stopped to light a cigarette, then

curled up at the end of the white velvet couch.

I hadn't taken more than two or three very satisfying drags on the cigarette before the

door to Val's bedroom opened, only it wasn't Val coming through the doorway. A

well-stacked blonde appeared instead, her short hair fluffed, her low cut, long-skirted

lounging dress crisp and new, her makeup freshly applied. She started to show a

slow, sexy grin, but when she caught sight of me the grin turned to a frown and she

stopped where she was.

"What do you think you're doing, waiting in line?" she demanded, annoyance sharp

in her tone as her small fists went to her hips. "If so, don't waste the time. In this

suite there's no one in line but me, and that's the way I intend to keep it."

I exhaled the smoke in my lungs while letting my eyes move over her fast enough for

her to miss it. So Val was going to be waiting for me when I got out of the hospital,

was he? From the appearance of the hippy, busty blonde, it looked like he was well

enough equipped to stand a wait of months. I didn't begrudge him a little

entertainment any more than I would have begrudged myself, but the temptation to

add my own touch to the situation was more than I could stand.

"What would I be waiting in line for?" I asked, all young and innocent and

wholesome. "I just live here. Isn't Val in?"

"No," the blonde answered with a different frown, looking me over again with a hand

to her hair, suspicion creeping into her eyes. "Val was called away a little while

ago… I've been coming here regularly for days now. If you live here, why haven't I

seen you before?"

"I've been in the hospital," I told her shyly, having put my cigarette into an ashtray so

that I might look down at my hands in discomfort. "I was - badly beaten." I raised

my gaze slightly to see that she was suddenly looking at my bandaged wrists, and

when the strained expression I'd been waiting for crossed her face I added hastily,

"But Val had nothing to do with it - honest! He wouldn't hurt me. He likes having me

around."

The tone of voice I'd used had more wishful thinking in it than conviction, and it

wasn't wasted on the blonde. The odd look on her face grew even more peculiar, but

before she could say anything the hall door flew open and I turned to see Val

striding in. He paused briefly to stare at me as he ran his hands through his dark

black hair, then he began to come toward me again. His black eyes were filled with

anger and another emotion I couldn't quite identify, and he ignored the blonde

completely.

"You move too damned fast," he growled as he came up to the back of the couch.

"I would have been all over this station if I hadn't known where to find you, and now

you can get off that couch and get moving again. If you aren't back in that hospital

area in five minutes flat, I'll knock your head off!"

I stirred uncomfortably as he stared down at me, recognizing the no-arguments tone

of voice he used. I'd had trouble with that tone more than once before, and then I

discovered that my reaction wasn't the only one - or the most major. The blonde

we'd both forgotten about gasped when she heard Val's threat, not realizing how

much it would take for anyone to knock my head off. All the woman saw was a

grown man threatening a young girl who had already been badly beaten once, and to

my surprise and her credit she didn't hesitate.

Her gasp had brought Val's attention to her, and he watched her march herself

around the couch and over to him. She had a grim, outraged expression on her face,

but he didn't seem to have the slightest idea of what was coming. The girl stopped in

front of him, feet planted wide and fists on hips as she stared up into his face. Then

she hissed, "You dirty creep! I'm reporting this to the station authorities!" and

slapped him so hard she almost took his head off. I flinched a little at the enthusiasm

she put into it, then watched as she marched herself out of the suite, slamming the

door behind her. Val stood with one hand to his cheek, staring after her, a

bewildered look on what I could see of his face.

"What's wrong with her?" I wondered aloud, more to keep myself from laughing like

a maniac than for any real purpose, but it was the wrong thing to say. Val turned

slowly back to look at me, and I could see the entire outline of a hand on his cheek.

"You set me up again, didn't you?" he demanded, the look in his eyes hardening as

his anger grew. "What did you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything," I answered with a shrug, holding back a grin. Then I leaned

both arms and my chin on the back of the couch and added, "If you have peculiar

taste in women it isn't my fault. Aren't you glad to see me back? You haven't even

said hello."

The hardness in his gaze increased as he remembered what he'd been about when he

first came in, and he moved closer to the couch to lean on it with both hands as he

bent down toward me.

"You have no business being here," he stated in that single-minded way of his.

"Clinicians have the final word on health matters, and none of them gave you

permission to leave that bed."

"Clinicians are called doctors here, and I'm not going back," I told him, sitting up

straight to meet that stare. "There's nothing wrong with me, and I'm tired of sitting

around doing nothing."

"I don't care how tired you are of it!" he growled, closing those big fingers of his on

the couch back. "If I've learned nothing else about you, I've learned how careless

you are with your own well-being. That means you're going back even if I have to

carry you, just to make sure you go all the way to being as healthy as possible. We

have some unfinished business pending between us, and this thing with Marcie will

be added to it. As if it needed anything to be added."

He stood straight again, looking down at me with that special look of his. Val had

had two weeks to think over the various ways I'd set him up, and it seemed the more

he thought about it the angrier he got. He'd apparently made up his mind to teach me

not to con him ever again, and refused to see that if he hadn't constantly been in my

way there would have been no need to con him.

Sharon Green - Diana Santee 3 -Tanderon

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