In the center of the vast chamber was a great column of streaming lights from the hundreds of built-in screens that announced arrivals, departures, cancellations of aircar flights around the world and connecting shuttles to and from Port City for liftoff. The column’s security cameras and spy-eyes watched sharply from all angles. The Lyhhrt stood with Lorrice and Tyloe, wondering who might be watching through all those eyes. Even in the hours just past midnight the station was never less than busy, and travelers ran to keep pace with the robot porters skimming the plasmix floors. An old Earther woman come to a strange world to meet grandchildren, a pair of tattooed Bengtvadi in long robes that automatically rippled and pleated themselves in complex patterns, a harassed Dabiri nickering at a trio of little ones with plaited tails. Scores of others lined up at terminals that were checking passports and identifications, dispensing tickets and interworld credit, tokens for renting chairs, slings and leaning-frames.
