Derelict For Trade

by Andre Norton

  9

  Rael Cofort scrutinized the image on the screen: a woman, short gray hair, intelligent brown eyes, weathered skin, age probably somewhere in her seventies. Plain tunic in the Deneb-Galactic colors, its only ornamentation the captain’s bars on her high collar. A lifetime spacer, and probably at least half of that life a captain—probably the same personality type as Miceal Jellico.

  And there was no mistaking the honesty in both face and voice as she said, "I questioned all three separately, Captain, and while details varied, one common fact emerged: they all had overhead someone discussing your ship and crew. Begging your pardon, they were told that, under the guise of Free Trading, you went about hijacking innocent ships. Though I don’t condone their actions, you can understand how that kind of gossip would rile them."

  Jellico said, "I can indeed. Act first, questions later. It’s happened to my own crew. And they won’t stomach space pirates any more than the Company crews."

  Captain Svetlana pursed her lips. Her expression was so very akin to Jellico’s—a distaste for the necessity of the encounter, but lurking humor at the vagaries of crew members—Rael felt a laugh bubbling up inside her, and controlled it. This incident might be explained, but the situation was only becoming more sinister.

  "Did they say who told them this information?" Jellico went on.

  Captain Svetlana’s brow furrowed slightly. "There is another of the places where the narrative diverges. Corsko insists she heard it from some Terrans up at the gym, but Kherddu says he got it in one of the eateries, from Kanddoyds, and Lu Nguyen swore that he overheard a Shver Monitor pointing out one of your crew—tall? yellow hair?—as a hijacker when he was passing back and forth to Trade Center."

  Jellico’s mouth was now a grim line, all humor gone.

  "I’ve brigged my three for seventy-two hours for brawling," Svetlana went on. "If you’d like to question them yourself, please come aboard anytime."

  "For now, I don’t think it’s necessary," Jellico said, his words clipped short. "But I appreciate the invitation, and will keep it in mind. Thank you for your time, Captain Svetlana."

  "You’re welcome, Captain Jellico," Svetlana replied formally, and the screens blanked.

  Jellico turned around to face Rael, his eyes distracted. "What do you make of that?"

  "She seemed absolutely honest. If she isn’t, then she’s one of the greatest dissemblers I’ve ever witnessed."

  "That was my impression as well," the captain said. He fell silent, his gaze still on Rael’s face. His thoughts were obviously distant as he contemplated this latest twist in what was shaping up to be a strange puzzle.

  Rael waited, and presently the ice-blue eyes focused, and saw her. And she felt the look, a visceral reaction that quickened her heartbeat and made her want to smooth her clothing and twitch at her hair, and then he looked away. A little wail of rueful laughter ran through her mind: how many times had this occurred since she came on board the Solar Queen ?

  How many times would it still occur?

  Many, and many, and it seemed all would lead to nothing.

  He said abruptly, "I sent Van Ryke to Trade to run queries on all ships registered with Ariadne in their titles. I think I ought to run a double check against whatever records Ross keeps. Do you have the time to accompany me? I confess I want someone to talk this over with."

  "I’d be glad to go," Rael said promptly. "Craig is on duty right now. I’m perfectly free, and to tell the truth, if I get any more curious, I’m likely to implode."

  "The more I look at this, the more it seems that someone doesn’t want my boys to find out anything about the Starvenger."

  "Are you going to ask Dane and the others to drop the inquiry?"

  Jellico stood in the hatchway, frowning. "Finding out the data doesn’t matter to me. The past is past. If it turns out there’s a wrong buried there, though, it does matter: we owe it to our brethren in Trade to right it if we can. I’m not going to pull the boys back, at least not yet. If we end up having to move to the heavy area to save money, then we will. In fact, when Stotz gets back, I’ll have him make the change. Meantime—" Jellico reached for the com. "Jasper, I’m going to run some queries by the legate."

  "Aye, Captain," came the prompt reply.

  They talked very little on the journey to the legate’s quarters, despite the fact that there was little to see.

  "Moving to high grav has one other advantage," Rael said.

  Jellico didn’t speak, but he glanced at her in mute question.

  "We’d have better scenery on the ride." She gestured at the gray blur of the tube walls enclosing the maglev capsule.

  Maglev routes from high grav cut through Shver territory on the surface, and, as the Shver did not like enclosed spaces, the view on those routes was said to be spectacular.

  Ross was there, and he seemed incurious when Jellico asked if he would run a search on ships with the name Ariadne. The legate’s expression was oddly abstract as he keyed in the search parameters. Silence weighed in the office as they waited for the computer to run its search.

  Presently the light flickered green, and Ross scanned rapidly the data on his screen. "Since the legation’s establishment three hundred forty-two years ago, twenty-six ships with ’Ariadne’ somewhere in their name have docked at Exchange, five in the last ten years: Ariadne's Web, the Diana and Ariadne, Ariadne's Star, Hellene Line: Ariadne, and Theseus-Ariadne. The Hellene Line is here repeatedly, about every six years."

  "Any of those reported lost, stolen, or dead?" Jellico asked.

  "I’ve no Patrol flags on any outside of Ariadne's Web, which was fined for attempting to smuggle in klifer-dust—an airborne scent which is lethal to Kanddoyd biochemistry," Ross replied. "To find out which have been decommissioned or otherwise taken out of service, your questions ought rightly to be submitted to your headquarters at Trade Central." He looked up, his long face narrowing in sudden suspicion.

  "We’re doing that," Rael said smoothly. "It’s just that our stay is necessarily limited, so we thought we’d do a crosscheck here at the same time as our cargo master is at Trade."

  Ross gave a nod as he wiped his screen blank. "Your business is rightly Trade’s; they ought to be able to give you complete data."

  And that was that—dismissal was clear in the man’s voice. What was he hurrying to? Rael couldn’t help thinking as they walked out of his quarters. Back to designing his holographic rose garden?

  "I don’t like him," Jellico said as they walked onto a maglev pod.

  "Seems he’s got a cog loose."

  "Well, it’s the Patrol’s job to be suspicious. If we were to tell him that Trade is not cooperating with us, and he hears of those rumors—"

  "We’re likely to be brigged first, and our ships impounded, and asked questions later," Jellico finished. "Thought of that too." He rapped on the chair arm with his fingers, then said, "Let’s go somewhere. Get something to eat, thrash this out."

  "All right," Rael said, inwardly amused. His manner was abrupt and distracted—not at all what one would expect of a man asking a woman for her company. He could have used the same tone with Van Ryke or Steen Wilcox, his oldest crew, she thought—except he wouldn’t have been so abrupt.

  On impulse she glanced at her chrono and said, "Not the concourse eateries. Let’s go up to the North Pole. I’ve always wanted to try the Movable Feast, ever since I heard about it. My treat," she added.

  He gave her a twisted smile. "I don’t eat my crew’s earnings," he said. "I’ll pay for myself. Otherwise, lead the way."

  Rael talked easily as they traveled up the core of the tower, pausing only momentarily as the capsule made the giddy swing around into the microgravity of the Spin Axis. She spoke mostly about her initial visit to Exchange. Jellico seemed mildly interested, at least enough to distract him from his problems. "... so Teague and I went up to the Movable Feast, just to find out that it was closed. It seems the owner, a Kanddoyd named Gabby Tikatik, was molting,
and if he can’t be there everything stops. Supposed to be quite a character."

  Jellico was looking around, interest apparent in his light eyes. The lines of his face were not as severe, and again Rael felt that frisson of attraction, of the desire to protect, to please. She would exert herself to entertain him, to take his mind off his problems just as long as he needed.

  "So what’s special about this place?" he said. His head was turned; he appeared to be watching the sudden blooms of open space through which the capsule was passing, from tube to spindly truss, across vast tunnels spiderwebbed with light and shadow dwindling in immense perspective. Rael wondered how he could do so without vertigo. "Aside from the fact that it appears to move up and down from the Spin Axis."

  "Teague told me the story," she said as the maglev debouched them into a station and they followed a group of glittering Kanddoyd merchants into the Movable Feast. "It’s one of the oldest establishments on the cylome—predates even the Concord. Apparently life was somewhat wild and lawless out here—it was an outpost for Traders, smugglers, and outright pirates, no questions asked. The first proprietor, surprisingly enough, was a human, named Gabby Grimwig. It was his idea to establish a fine restaurant here, where the view would be spectacular and the diners could choose their grav levels—or even eat while the grav changed."

  "An interesting but repellent idea," Jellico said.

  Rael laughed, thinking of the spectacular changes gravity had on some food and drink substances. "The idea was that all the diners would agree on the level and change time."

  She paused as a feline biped from the mysterious Enkha System bowed them in, her graceful form clad in a green tunic that floated out behind her in the micrograv. She led the way to a table in a section designed for Terran body types. Rael glanced around, gained a swift impression of comfortable pods arranged in terraced layers in a half-circle. Exotic plants screened each dining pod from the others, but all had a view along the length of the habitat. It was evening, the radiants overhead dimming to a soft glow reminiscent of a full moon on Terra, and the lights of the Shver dwellings far below gleamed softly yellow, lapping up and over in the curving sky to either side like constellations distorted by the gravity of a black hole. The vast towers of the Kanddoyds, lit not with discrete point sources but with gracefully twining tubes of light, shimmered like wrinkled ropes of silk binding a curving earth to narrow heaven.

  "Choissess for delectable viandss the exssalted guestss will find here," the Enkhai said in her soft, musical voice, touching the corner console.

  "Either automated or ssentient sservice available. Dine well!" With a graceful flick of her tail she bowed again and moved swiftly away.

  As soon as she was gone, Jellico looked up inquiringly, and Rael continued. "The problems were evident right away. It seemed no matter what kind of beings were in, they always seemed to prefer grav at another level. Traders then being as ready to settle things with fists, teeth, or tentacles, as some are now, there were frequent fights. After Gabby Grimwig’s place was trashed one too many times, he made some changes. One, to hire Shver as security. Two, he decided the place would stop at regular intervals, signaled by light flashes, so it was up to the eaters to determine when to come and what grav they wanted to finish their meal in. And three, diners were to eat in harmony. No arguments, no duels, nothing but polite social exchange. Anyone breaking the rules got handed over to him for justice, which he executed in. imaginative ways."

  "Like?" Jellico regarded her with a fascinated gaze.

  Rael suddenly felt mischievous. "Well, one diner had to choose between three unmarked containers, with the understanding that he had to eat everything in the one he chose." She paused, watching Jellico’s eyes. Again the habitual hardness had eased; she saw interest, and fainter, appreciation.

  "It was full of Hudapi gourds. Hundreds of Hudapi gourds. It took him months, and Gabby made a fortune selling tickets to let people watch him."

  Jellico’s smile stretched, and suddenly he laughed. "A slime-explosion every time he took a bite?"

  "And the spores sprout wherever there’s any moisture at all. It took just as long to defoliate him afterwards—when he finished them all he was just a big ball of squiggling green hairs." Rael grinned, then continued, "So the place’s success was established—and however things were resolved elsewhere in the habitat, the most hardened pirates were painfully polite if they came here to eat. Sworn enemies would ignore one another by mutual, unspoken agreement."

  "I’ve heard of a few similar places across the galaxy," Jellico said.

  Rael smiled. "I’m sure you’ve been to a few as well. I know I

  have—Teague has always had a taste for places with unusual histories. Anyway, Grimwig lived quite a long time, and when his successor took over, and made it apparent that the same rules would apply, the name ’Gabby’ also stuck. I think there’ve been three or four Gabby owners since then. Tikatik is the latest, and Teague said he’s probably every bit as unusual as the original Gabby."

  "Will we see him?"

  "Almost assuredly," Rael said, and keyed the menu console. "He supposedly acts like this is a party and he is our host. Shall we order?"

  She tabbed the corner idly, looking at the range of printed languages flashing past. Finally she hit the default for Terran Basic, and scanned the astonishing variety of delicacies from countless worlds. When she found a choice, she keyed it in, and looked up to see Miceal tapping in his order.

  "Now this is something I’ve always wondered about," Jellico commented suddenly, pointing at his menu. "Crystalized tulu blossoms in a fresh sauce of pansevny root. Don’t tulu only grow on maybe ten worlds, and they only bloom once a century?"

  "Look at the price, and answer your own question," Rael said, delighted to see him talking. socially.

  Jellico gave a soft, low whistle. "Could almost get a ship for that. Upgrade engines, certainly."

  "That’s exactly what Teague used to say." She laughed.

  "And then he’d go out and do it." Jellico’s smile was quizzical.

  "Well, yes, but that’s not to say it’s always been success. He was lucky enough to have several great runs right when he started out, but there have been losses as well. Not always the monetary kind—but just as painful." She looked back into the past, then shook her head to chase the sober memories away.

  When she looked up again, his blue eyes were interested. "Teague’s still solitary."

  Solitary, she thought. Anyone else would phrase it the other way — has

  he ever married? "Yes," she said. "He says he can’t risk the idea of pairing with someone who turns out to be a dirthugger—or having children who want to stay on one planet. Maybe someday he’ll adopt, if he comes across someone who reminds him of the way he himself was when he was small. Until then, he says, just short relationships, entered lightheartedly and ended with an equally lighthearted good-bye."

  Jellico frowned down at the table. In the discreetly designed service inset a light glowed green, and two softly steaming drink bulbs appeared.

  They had both chosen the automated service rather than paying extra for a sentient waitbeing, fun as it was to have the food artfully presented and the dirty dishes winkled away. This also gave them more privacy.

  Did he want to be private? Or had he chosen the automat to save money?

  She took a chance, and made the transition from the quasi-personal to herself. "We’re complete opposites, Teague and I, in that way," she said. When Jellico glanced up, and she sensed a wariness in him, she laughed and added, "Though you wouldn’t think it, particularly if you were to have met me during my university years. We students, particularly when we were pursuing our studies in psychology, were all too apt to get into relationships in which we happily squandered hours and hours discussing and analyzing our every thought, emotion, and sensation. It’s amazing we got any work done at all. The relationships certainly didn’t seem to last much past the time we ran out of dreams to plumb for mean
ing, or each other’s tastes in music and art to pick apart for what they supposedly symbolized."

  "Sounds grim," Jellico said with a thin smile. "I think I’d rather have my teeth pulled out through my toes than sit through that."

  Rael laughed. "I think everyone else thought so too—for at least during those years, no one outside our department seemed to be much interested in us but ourselves. It’s inevitable, I suppose: we choose companions in our vocations, when we can."

  There, it was said—a comment that could be a possible overture.

  Again he hesitated, and when the light glowed green again, he turned with a quickness that revealed how glad he was of the interruption.

  Rich, spicy smells accompanied the plates of food that they carefully removed from the automat, making certain the fresh peas did not suddenly become airborne. Rael watched Jellico from the periphery of her vision, and saw him staring off as if his thoughts were light-years distant.

  She looked up. He seemed to become aware of her stare, and returned his gaze to hers. "Flindyk," he said, tipping his head slightly.

  Rael peered through the delicate ferns surrounding their booth, just in time to see a massive figure bizarrely armored in Kanddoyd lineaments bounding with practiced grace into one of the more secluded booths directly next to the huge curving windows. Flindyk disappeared immediately behind a formidable screen of plants.

  Jellico frowned, then rose. "He did say we were to come to him with any problems. We’ve got one now."

  "He might not want to do business now," Rael said.

  Jellico gave his characteristic curt nod as he said, "I’ll just ask him for an appointment." He slid out from his seat, and was gone a moment later.

  Rael watched him navigate between the booths toward the more isolated section near the windows. His movements were neat and economical, and occasionally, as he caught at a carved bar and pulled his weight around, there was a hint of the power latent in his lean body. She saw him near Flindyk’s booth, but before he could approach the barrier of foliage a Kanddoyd glided out from behind one of the ferns and stopped him.