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"No warrant for you?" Joh
"No, it never got that far."
"Can these . . . 'friends' get us passage out?"
"For a chance to make contact with Manty Intelligence? Of course they will."
"I'm not sure we can support them," Charles pointed out. "Most of them have been designated as terrorist organizations by the People's Republic; supporting them is a political decision at that point."
"Understood," Rachel replied. "But this is a chance for a hard contact and some positive PR, if only in your intelligence service." She sighed, looking around the room. "They're really not terrorists; they have a strict military/industrial target only policy. Sometimes civilians do get killed, but only those working on military equipment and manufacturing; they don't go bombing restaurants."
"Or strip-joints," Charles interjected. "Do you feed them information?"
"No, I don't," she replied. "I mean, sometimes a little, but I'm not a spy for them or anything. Sometimes I find out something they really have to know and I pass it on to a cell I trust. I'll have to bring them in on you guys; they're my only source of travel documents."
"Stop here," Rachel whispered. "You're not going to crack on me, are you?"
The man who would only answer to the name "The Great Lorenzo" raised himself to his not inconsiderable height and gathered the rags of his suit.
"Am I not the Great Lorenzo?" he asked in a mellifluous voice. "It is not a great role, but it is a speaking part. I shall do my trouper's best."
"Lord, this was a bad idea," she whispered. "Okay, they probably put out sensors, so you'd better get into role."
The man nodded and reached in his pocket, extracting a bottle of cheap whiskey.
"You shouldn't need that," she snapped. "You already smell like a distillery."
"But if I do not, my hands will shake," he noted logically.
"They're supposed to shake!"
"Only in the role within the role," he returned and upended the bottle, taking a single hard slug. "Now I am prepared," he added, tucking the bottle away as his face slowly softened into subtly different lines. He now had the overall visage of a drunken bum, but there was a cold light in his eyes and his demeanor, while stooped, had a hint of athleticism. "Ah, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!"
"Aloman?" she asked, stepping deeper into the gloom.
"Shakespeare," he sighed. "So few remember the Bard."
John slid the plate aside and nodded at Rachel. "Glad you're back."
"No names," she said. "This is a friend in the resistance. He can get you passages."
John looked the rebel visitor up and down. He appeared to be just another street bum; sallow face, palsied hands. The torn clothing was better than most, but not significantly. However, if anyone knew looks could be deceiving it was Mullins. "You?"
The bum slowly straightened until he was at his full height and looked at the admiral. "Yeah, that's Mladek," he said in a deep, gravely voice, ignoring Mullins. "First you grind us under the Legs then you grind us under the Peeps and now that the fire's too hot for you you turn tail and run." He spat on the ground in front of the Peep officer and smiled at the Manticorans. "Give him to me for an hour; I'll sweat out everything you want to know."
"Enough," Rachel said. "We don't have time for this."
"Yeah, I can get you documents," the rebel replied after a glance at the woman. "But there's a problem. I've got three; Rach said you wanted four."
"How long to get four?" Charles asked.
"Why should we?" Mladek snapped. "For God's sake, I'll buy you a piece of ass when we get to Manticore; leave the bint."
"You know," Mullins replied mildly, not turning around. "I just need to get you to Givens alive. There's nothing saying I have to leave you the use of your legs." He cocked his head to the side and looked at the visitor. "We need four."
"Ain't go
"Rachel, you are not staying on this planet," Mullins said. "They are going to be looking for you this time." He paused and shrugged, looking at the floor. "We already drew straws. Just in case. I lost."
"He did," Charles replied sourly. "He really, really did. I was there."
"Well, that makes a hell of a lot of sense!" Rachel flared. "I go back to Manty space and you stay here? What, exactly, am I going to do in Manticore? And how are you going to survive here?"
"I can get by," Mullins said. "As soon as it's clear the admiral is gone, things will cool down. I can make it. As for you, the one more or less constant in Manticore these days is a labor shortage; you won't have to worry about finding a job and it won't be as a dancer, either."
"I've got nothing against being a dancer," she said narrowly.
"No, but I do," he replied. "When you get to Manticore, find another job. Okay?"
"Okay, I'm not staying," she said after a moment's glare. "Take the pictures. We'll retouch them as necessary for clothing; I'll have to get that later. Two male sets and one female."
"I can do those as well," the rebel said. "I've got a lovely set of three, by the way. You're Solarian business representatives."
"Good," John replied. "The Peeps bend over backwards for those."
"Rachel will be the head of the group," the bum continued, handing out briefing papers. "She's the CEO of Oberlon, Inc. and a really nasty individual. Unfortunately, the CEO of Oberlon is about ninety and looks it, so we'll have to age you a bit."
"I'll live," Rachel said as he took the first picture.
"You'll be her son," the rebel continued, handing Gonzalvez his packet. "You're the heir apparent, but the old biddy won't die. So you're stuck in an eternal 'momma's boy' routine."
"Joy," Gonzalvez said, smiling as stupidly as possible at the camera.
"That will look great," the visitor said. "You're the executive assistant, Admiral. You don't talk much, just open doors and make coffee."
"That I can handle," Mladek said, glowering at the camera.
"And one to grow on," the rebel continued, taking Mullins' picture.
"What in the hell was that for," he asked, suspiciously.
"If I come up with another identity in the next day or so, do you want it or not?"
"Want," Mullins admitted.
"So there you are," the visitor said, putting away his gear. "One big happy family."
"And already pla
"You'd better get up pretty early in the day, so
"One big happy family, indeed," Mladek laughed.