Kazmer was making his way through Port Charid's warehouse district when something caught his eye.

Didn't he know that man?

Looking around quickly, Kazmer located the nearest doorway, and ducked into its alcove.

Moments passed.

Then the man crossed in front of him. Kazmer knew him, all right. Tall and thin, big-boned, almost gangly, with a fine sharp expression of intelligence and with — and big ears that stood out from his head, though perhaps it took a friend to notice. Frowning, just now, and apparently so deep in thought that he didn't so much as look up until Kazmer spoke.

"Hilton Shires. As I live and breathe."

Stepping out of the alcove Kazmer extended his hand in glad greeting, but it seemed that the surprise he'd given Hilton was unpleasantly complete. Hilton took a moment to respond.

"Kazmer Daigule. Hey. Long time, how've you been?"

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of a Langsarik since their surrender to the Jurisdiction. Two years, maybe. "I've got no complaints." Kazmer took a step or two down the street, encouraging Hilton to walk with him; but Hilton wasn't moving. If Hilton was annoyed at Kazmer for surprising him it would be a little over-sensitive on Hilton's part. It was Kazmer who owed his life to Hilton, not the other way around. "You?"

"Life is changed." Hilton made the obvious point so blandly that it was as though the fact had just occurred to him. "Not like old times at all, Kazmer. What brings you here?"

As if Hilton didn't know, him with his Langsarik colors showing beneath the collar of his work-shirt. Maybe Hilton felt they were vulnerable to being overheard, here in the street. They'd be a lot less obvious if they were walking together, Kazmer told himself; but Hilton had always had a stubborn streak.TOP

"Called in on a transport job." By Hilton's people, as a matter of fact. "I hear there's been a lot of activity in Port Charid lately."

But what could Langsariks need mercantile pilots for? The Bench had impounded the Langsarik hulls as a condition of the amnesty. Langsariks had no legitimate transport requirements. So the only job Langsariks could offer Kazmer necessarily involved contraband: and Kazmer and Hilton both knew it.

Which only made Hilton's resolute play at ignorance more irritating. "Well, traffic is picking up. That's true. Plenty of work to go around." And Hilton actually leaned his back up against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he did so. "Still. Isn't this a little out of the way for you?"

Yes, it was. "I'm a free agent. It sounded interesting." He wouldn't have come this far on an offer –- let alone one that involved contraband -- for anyone but Hilton's people. The least Hilton could do was acknowledge that fact. "On your way to anywhere in particular?"

Of course he was. Hilton was here for the same reason Kazmer was; Kazmer was sure of it. Hilton, however, shook his head, and lied.

"Not really. There isn't much to do out in the settlement, though, and I got a pass. So I thought I'd come down to watch the shuttle traffic, kind of get away from it all for a while."

Now Kazmer was annoyed, and beginning to think about being insulted. Prudence was one thing, but Hilton was taking this whole secrecy bit a little too far. If that was the way Hilton was going to be, Kazmer wouldn’t keep him any longer.

"I see. Well, enjoy yourself, Hilton. Give my regards to your family, all right?" TOP

Hilton's family.

There was a thought.

So long as Hilton was here in Port Charid maybe Kazmer could go see sweet little Cousin Modice.

Hilton had warned him — if only half seriously — never to let him catch Kazmer in bed with his cousin ever again; and him knowing what the joke was, because it had been Hilton's idea.

Fine.

Hilton wouldn't catch him.

"Sure thing," said Hilton. "Maybe I'll see you around. Before you go. Where are you staying?"

Kazmer was tired of the game. "Just in, actually, so I don't know yet. But I'll be in touch. Nice to see you, Hilton."

So long as Hilton didn't know where Kazmer was, Hilton couldn’t stop him from going out to see Modice.

That would pay Hilton out for being so excessively cagey with him.

***

ANGEL OF DESTRUCTION   ISBN 0-451-45849-4
ROC Science Fiction