Derelict For Trade

by Andre Norton

  "Thank you for permitting me to come up here," Rael said.

  Nunku smiled a little wryly. "Tooe and Momo clamor prodigiously to adopt yon lanky crewmate into our klinti," she said, using the Kanddoyd word for nest/primary family. "But Tooe also seeketh to adopt into thy ship klinti."

  Rael nodded, delighted by the idea of a ship klinti. A brief reflection made her realize that the term actually was more appropriate than not. She thought, We really are a kind of klinti, at least as I understand the word, just as this group is.

  Nunku’s mouth pressed into a line and she added, "I confess, I know not yet whether she sees the dilemma."

  Rael drew in a deep breath. She had not considered that aspect of things. For the crew of the Queen, the question had revolved around Tooe’s trustworthiness, and beyond that, what she could contribute. It was assumed she had no ties of any importance—which was pretty much the way any new crewmate was regarded.

  "Once we resolve our difficulties here, she will have to address that," she said.

  Nunku gave a little nod, and as a ripple of colored lights flickered on the console near her, she turned and regarded the complicated, unique computer system she had rigged.

  Her thin fingers tapped out a code, the computer hummed briefly, and a chip appeared. Then Nunku folded her hands and faced Rael again. "For what purpose hast thou come?"

  "I am a physician," Rael said, having decided in the short time she had observed Nunku to speak the truth. "I will do my best to help you, if in turn you can help me by telling me about your background and permitting me to do a diagnostic scan. The data I gather might in turn help another like you one day."

  Nunku nodded again, as Rael had thought she would. "Data," she said. "Another word for it is power. Willingly. What wilt thou have first?"

  "I can run the diagnostic right now, if you tell me how you got here, and what made you stay?"

  "I am Terran-born, as thou hast probably surmised," Nunku said. "I think I had five years when we came here. I do not remember much about my family; over the years I have gathered bits of information which maketh me conclude that they were a mixed crew of Kanddoyd, human, and other races, and the ship was not a registered Trader, but sometimes a smuggler, operating on the fringes of the law."

  Rael listened as she read the readout on her scanner. Profound endocrinological imbalances, a crazily perverse calcium-phosphorus balance, enzymes that the machine didn’t recognize—she blinked, amazed at the extent of the girl’s adaptations. Any one of these indications would normally be fatal, but together they somehow balanced into life. Rael felt tears sting her eyes at this fresh evidence of the plasticity of the human genome, and the cost of that plasticity.

  "That they did exist on the edge of the law is partly proved by the fact that I cannot find anything on them in Trade records, and I have spent much time searching," Nunku continued, evidently not noticing Rael’s reaction, or choosing to ignore it. "That is, I trow, a negative proof. A positive one is the last memory I have, which was a great excitement among the adults. I didn’t understand it—I have only a bright image in my memory of my father grabbing my mother and saying, ’We got it! We got it! We’ll be able to sell it for a fortune— but we have to get away today before they find out.’ Then a great deal of activity, including the buying of stores. It was thus I was separated from my people, whilst we ran through a crowd on one of the lower concourses. My memory provideth me with my own terror at all the tall figures around me, all of them strangers. The next thing I remember is being put in one of the detention cells, against my family being found. I surmise now that can only mean that someone had discovered who I was, and what the crime was. Identification has eluded me, alas, for I have not breached the fire walls protecting the Monitor system," she concluded with a wan smile. "I could, of course, but I would probably be discovered in the process." She felt under a neat stack of printouts for a chip, then turned to Dane. "Speaking of which, here is thine access. I’ve crafted a ferret program that will burrow through the

  walls in the registry computers. I feel confident that it will bring the needed data—but we will only have this one chance."

  "You mean it will trigger counterprograms?" Dane asked.

  Nunku waved her hand. "It is so."

  "Will that bring the Monitors here?" Rael asked quickly, looking around the nest.

  "No, for next I was going to request that thee insert it somewhere. It matters not where, though preferably in the console belonging to some knave who hath done thee ill, for the entry point will be traced. The data will not be directed to thy ship or here, but to a general mail drop down in the Shver area, at one of the rental accesses."

  "And if they find out?" Dane asked. "I’ll be walking into a trap?"

  "Thou must sound the drop first, from somewhere else," she said. "That’s easy enough. If they’ve breached it, you’ll know, for I’ve arranged for that too: you’ll only hear this signal if the ferret hasn’t been violated. The moment it is, it will self-destruct." She tabbed the audio on her console, and they all heard a bell tone in four distinctive notes.

  "So they won’t know where you are, but they’ll know someone is in the system," Rael said. "And they’ll want to find out who."

  Nunku nodded. "It’s a risk—" She stopped.

  Rael turned her head, heard a faint whistle.

  "Comes Liuqeeq," Tooe chirped.

  Everyone waited in silence, Dane looking soberly down at the chip in his hand. A minute or so later the whistle came, louder, and then a tall, furred being jetted in, spiraling down expertly and stopping himself by catching hold of a tube just above Nunku’s area.

  "I talk," Liuqeeq honked in a strange version of Terran. "I talk to Fozza, Fozza talk to Zham of Clan Marl, talk to Kanddoyd ally, find out—yes, Clan Golm hire roofnub chase Solar Queen captain."

  "Roofnub—thugs," Rael translated to herself.

  "Clan Golm, eh?" Dane said, with a martial grin. "Well. That helps narrow down the choices for where to insert this thing." He brandished the chip. "Ever heard of baseball?"

  Nunku and her klinti all shook their heads.

  "Well, it’s a Terran game, an old one, but all you need to remember is this: three strikes and you’re out. Clan Golm just made three strikes." He spun the chip in the air and caught it. "Now they’re going to be out."

  "Golm not good," Liuqeeq said.

  "Clan Golm get three strikes of fate," Tooe chirruped with immense satisfaction, and she and the others started jabbering in their own language as Dane, grinning, looked on.

  Rael turned to Nunku. "Meanwhile, let me give you these mineral supplements, which ought to help you."

  Rip Shannon dug into the hot food that Mura had prepared, listening as Tang Ya, Steen Wilcox, Craig Tau, and the captain talked at the other table.

  "I probably could design something," Ya was saying. "Or even Rip over there—he’s got a knack with the data-running. The problem is, we don’t know the system here, which has to be at least several hundred years old, and it’s not human-designed."

  "I thought computers ran more or less on the same principles," Jellico said, rubbing the blaster scar on his cheek.

  "Bits and bytes," Tau said, smiling.

  Wilcox leaned back, his long, somber face thoughtful. "It’s true enough when you look at the basics. But past that—and with a computer system as old and as complex as Harmony’s doubtless is, you’re soon past it—you come to variations in design which can differ as much as languages and customs do. Age adds its own idiosyncracies. Given enough time, someone as good as Ya here could figure out how to crack the system, but we don’t have the time."

  "Speaking of time." Jellico’s hand dropped. "Thorson has been gone

  too long. I don’t like having to depend on these Spin Axis people, for to all intents and purposes they are criminals."

  Rip thought about Dane, and as before, he got a brief but vivid picture of his fellow apprentice. "He’s on his way," he spoke without thinking.


  The others turned to study him. The captain and the other control deck officers merely looked surprised, but the medic’s eyes were narrowed in an odd expression.

  "How d’you know that?" Ya asked.

  Rip shrugged, the image gone. "I don’t know for certain," he admitted. "I guess it’s just a logical guess: he’s been gone long enough."

  The odd expression was gone from the medic’s face. Tau now looked mildly interested as he lowered his jakek bulb and said, "Maybe Jasper knows for certain. Where is he?"

  Rip felt the same flash, and said, "In the lab with the cats." It came out without thought.

  The captain looked across at Tau, who smiled blandly, then he grunted. "Hope you’re right, Shannon. We need to get moving if we’re going to act at all."

  They all returned to their meal, no one speaking until the clatter of boots on the deckplates indicated arrivals.

  Dane Thorson, Tooe, and Rael Cofort appeared, all of them looking pleased. "Got it," Thorson said, brandishing the type of chip that Kanddoyd computers took. "All we have to do is get it into the system."

  Tang Ya gave a quick frown. "I suppose we can do that here, if I design an interface—"

  Rael Cofort raised a hand. "No, it has to be somewhere else. Nunku says her ferret will probably be traced to the port of origin."

  "So," Dane said, turning to Rip with a grin, "we thought we’d make a little visit to the Jheel of Clan Golm who was so helpful, and start things there."

  "But he’s gone, isn’t he?" Rip asked. "Festival of the Dancing Sprool? Three months’ hibernation?"

  "Tooe’s friend Momo went over there to check, and he’s right at his desk," Dane said. "In fact, it’s almost all Shver on duty right now."

  Wilcox whistled softly. "What arrogance!" he exclaimed. "Did he really think we’d never go back there again?"

  Rael Cofort’s fine brow quirked ironically. "We Terrans might look all alike to most Shver, but we don’t to the Kanddoyds, at least to the ones who work at the Trade registry. I’m sure he has friends among the facilitators who would warn him if the Queen's crew is coming, and then he could conveniently disappear again."

  "Either that or just pull the silent treatment again," Rip said.

  Cofort frowned slightly. "It does seem significant, doesn’t it, this coincidental proliferation of Shver behind the counters at communications?"

  "Nobody messes with Shver," Rip said grimly.

  "Except us," Dane added, grinning.

  Rip liked the look of that grin. It promised action. Rip was very ready for some action. "When are you going?" he asked.

  Dane shrugged. "Captain?"

  Jellico gave a curt nod.

  "No time like the present," Dane said, and he looked up at Rip. "Coming to help?"

  "Wouldn’t miss it," Rip said, putting his half-eaten meal in the cooler for later.

  They managed to get a maglev pod to themselves. As soon as the doors hissed shut, Rip said, "He’s bound to remember us. Won’t that make a problem?"

  "Not if Tooe and I go in first and decoy him," Rael Cofort said.

  Rip looked over at her in surprise.

  Dane grinned. "She said she wouldn’t be left out. And it does make things easier for us. We simply stay out of sight while they distract the Jheel, one of us is on hand to distract anyone else who might see, the other inserts the chip and gets it started, then—" He clapped his big hands. "We’re in."

  Rip chewed his lip, thinking swiftly. "I think we’d better go in separately as well," he said. "We don’t know who talks to who in there, but you’re probably right about those locutors and facilitators, Dr. Cofort. We’d better assume that there’s plenty of communication behind the scenes."

  "Tooe," Rael said, "you speak good Kanddoyd, don’t you?"

  "Speak perfect, me," Tooe said, slapping her scrawny front.

  "Then you can assure all the locutors and other functionaries that we are merely on a sightseeing tour," Rael said. "But—do you know where the communications office is?"

  "Yes," Tooe said, her pupils narrowing to vertical slits. "Many, many times Tooe is in Trade place, listen, learn, watch. They do not see Tooe, but Tooe see everything."

  "After three visits," Rip said, "I’ve got the place mapped in my head.

  We can detour the help and make our way there by a circuitous route."

  "Then let’s set a time to meet outside the com office."

  Dana said. "Fifteen minutes from entry. Agreed?"

  Everyone nodded, and just then the pod slid to a halt outside their stop.

  Rip rather enjoyed the next fifteen minutes. Each functionary they met they exchanged compliments with, never giving a hint of their business. Rip exerted himself to outtalk the Kanddoyd talkers, praising every bush, flower, and mosaic they passed. He even stopped once and praised the sight of the elevators moving slowly along the cylinders. The Kanddoyds seemed to be impressed with his wonderful manners.

  When it came time to state their business, Dane assured their would-be facilitators that they were there to check the latest monetary exchange rates, but first they just wanted to walk along and chat with other Terrans. Three of the functionaries who accosted them seemed to accept this and went on their way; one also appeared to accept it, but this one’s ultrasonic noises tweaked at Rip’s nerves and made Dane’s ring-brooch glow a telltale blue.

  Both men pretended not to notice anything amiss. When the Kanddoyd had retreated, Dane murmured, "Glad our time is up. That one is off to blab, or I’m a Cytherian raptor-slug."

  "I don’t think you need to grow fangs and start crawling through slime yet," Rip muttered out of the side of his mouth. "I think I just saw our friend duck into the elevator leading to the registry department."

  "Warning Koytatik?" Dane suggested. "Interesting thought."

  They arrived outside the communications office. Tooe and Rael were just inside; as soon as the Rigelian saw the two Queen's men, she grinned as she pulled a flat case from inside her shabby, loose clothing.

  Looking swiftly to see that no one watched, she opened it and divided its contents with Rael Cofort, who accepted her portion into cupped hands.

  As Rip and Dane watched from just beyond the doorway, Tooe went to the customer keyboards farthest from the Golm Jheel’s counter, and carefully opened her hands. Then she stepped back and shrieked on a high note.

  Business stopped. Tooe pointed and yelled, "Spiders!"

  Just then Rael Cofort, who had sidled up to the Jheel’s counter while he—and everyone else—was looking in the other direction, opened her hands, and Rip saw tiny black specks scuttle over the counter. Cofort backed hastily and stared up at one of the signs as though her thoughts were parsees away.

  The Jheel turned back to his computer, reached to close it down, then jumped back. He let out a bellow, and a second later there was a stampede of hooming, growling Shver heading for the closest doors.

  As the Shver exited, the other customers all started yelling at one another, demanding help, demanding answers, demanding someone find out if the spiders were poisonous. Two people started stomping the ground, and one humanoid scratched at his body through his flight suit, as though something were crawling on his skin. The sight of him sent several more people into a panic.

  "Now," Dane said.

  Trying desperately to muffle his laughter, Rip followed Dane in and did his best to guard the counter from view as Dane reached over with his long arm and dropped Nunku’s chip into a slot on the Jheel’s computer, which was still online. He tabbed the ACCEPT, waited for the download light to blink, then he hit the EJECT, grabbed the chip, and backed away.

  Rip backed in the other direction, making his way through the noisy crowd for the door.

  He dove through a moment after Dane, and they saw Rael and Tooe just passing across a little bridge toward one of the exits.

  Rip managed to hold in his laughter until they reached the concourse, but when he saw Cofort gripping the rail above a th
ousand-foot drop, her hands clutching weakly and her body convulsed in mirth, he gave way.

  The four of them stood there for a time, whooping until they had completely lost their breath.

  Finally, exhausted, Cofort said, "Well done—all four of us. Now let’s go tell the captain that we’re in the battle."

  15

  " We’re just about out of funds," Frank Mura said, coming into the galley mess. "Another day and we’ll be dipping into the red."

  Dane Thorson, sitting with Jasper and Rip in the corner, exchanged glances with his compatriots. Ali had said once, "When Frank’s upset he hides his hands behind his back." Frank stood in the hatchway, firmly anchored by his mag-boots, his countenance stolidly blank as ever, but neither hand was visible.

  He wants us to leave Exchange.

  Dane felt the thought impact his brain as if someone had spoken out loud. They were all three thinking the same thing, he knew.

  "Can they cut off life support?" Mura went on.

  Steen Wilcox shook his head. "No, they can’t—unless they want to risk breach of contract, and then our debt is nulled. The account is payable when we officially notify them of our blast time and they relinquish life support over to us."

  Johan Stotz, who was sitting with a pocket comp next to his food, looked up and said, "But if we can’t pay our shot, then we get impounded before we can fire up the jets. Look, Chief, didn’t Ross tell you that the head of the trilateral Trade office, this Flindyk, is by-the-books, straight-beam honest? If so, why don’t we just go lay this in his lap?"

  "Is Ross honest?" Wilcox countered.

  "Good question," Kosti growled.

  "I’ve yet to hear of any Patrol rankers being corrupt," Jellico said from his place between the jet man and the astrogator, "but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. As for Flindyk, I’ve tried three times to get an appointment with him, but his flunkies fall all over themselves relating how sorry they are to report his unending series of crises that prevent my getting on the schedule. As for Ross, he may not be corrupt, but I think he’s worthless."