B002D48NTG EBOK

by Mike Resnick

  "The science lab. No one ever goes there since Sharon removed all the paraphernalia they used to synthesize drugs."

  Forrice got up from the table. "This shouldn't take too long. I'll let you know as soon as I've got some answers."

  Cole leaned back on his chair, sipped his coffee, and considered the events of the last few hours-what the Achilles had done, what it hadn't done, what it should have done. The distress-call ploy wasn't going to work very often. It was far more likely that the Teddy R would be the attacking ship. He was prepared for that; after all, every member of the crew except for Morales had been in the military until a few weeks ago, and he had confidence that they would perform competently in military situations. But at some point, probably the point at which they boarded an enemy ship solely to plunder it, they stopped being military units and became pirates, with different goals and very likely different reactions. And since he had no intention of dying, at least not as quickly and easily as Windsail and his crew had, he had to consider every option and anticipate every possibility.

  He had no idea how long he'd sat, motionless, but suddenly he was aware that his coffee had become very cold. He set it down, ordered a menu, waited until it materialized in front of him, then reached forward and touched the "coffee" icon. It arrived almost instantly, but before he could pick up the cup, Forrice entered the mess hall and swirled over to him with his oddly graceful spinning three-legged gait.

  "Well?" asked Cole as the Molarian sat down on the opposite side of the table.

  "I've spoken to five jewelers. Each one says that he has to see it before he'll write up an estimate for the insurance, but three of them offered guesses as to its value, ranging from twenty-seven thousand credits to forty-five. There was one, a very nice Mollutei female, who offered to cut it for free if I would indemnify her against any loss of value if she, I don't know, sneezed or blinked or did something while cutting the diamond that caused it to shatter or somehow lose its value. I'm not very clear on what can destroy a diamond, but I thanked her and told her I'd consider it. She was the one who put it at twentyseven thousand." He paused. "The bottom line is that if thirty-seven or thirty-eight thousand is the average price, we're sitting on diamonds with a market value of better than fifteen million credits, probably more if we'll take Maria Theresa dollars or Far London pounds."

  "Fifteen million?" repeated Cole. "That'll buy an eardrum or two."

  "Have you heard back from the hospital about Chadwick?" asked the Molarian.

  "Not yet. He's only been there a few hours. He's going to need a lot of work-but the nice thing about illegal transactions is that they're done with cash, so we can pay the medics and they won't be able to trace it."

  "Even if they do, all they'll know is that it came from the Samarkand, and you can have Slick change the name in about half a Standard day."

  "True," admitted Cole. "But I'd rather be very safe than merely safe."

  "Can't argue with that," said Forrice. "Is there anything else we have to discuss?"

  "Not that I can think of."

  "Well, I've had a hard day of bloodletting and plundering," said the Molarian, getting to his feet, "so I think I'll go to bed and get a little sleep before I have to show up for red shift."

  He left the mess hall, and Cole, restless, got up and returned to the bridge.

  "Captain on the bridge!" shouted Christine, snapping to attention, as did Malcolm Briggs and Domak.

  Cole gave them a lazy salute and they sat back down.

  "Sir," said Christine, "we are on course to Riverwind, and should be braking to sublight speeds in about three hours."

  "Too bad," commented Cole.

  "Sir?"

  "That'll be a couple of hours into blue shift. Four Eyes will be sleeping, and you've been up for almost a full Standard day. That means I can't go down to see David Copperfield right away, because we don't as yet have a Third Officer to take over command. I'll just wait until Four Eyes is awake and see if I can lure him onto the bridge a little early."

  "I can remain at this post, sir," offered Christine promptly.

  "Weren't you on your way to bed when we made contact with the Achilles?" Cole reminded her. "And I know you've been on the bridge ever since. We can wait an extra eight hours to unload the diamonds."

  "I'll be all right, sir. You won't be long, and we're not under any threat here. Why wait?"

  He stared at her for a long moment, considering her offer. Finally he shrugged. "What the hell. If you drink coffee, go load up on it now. If not, stop by the infirmary and grab something to help keep you awake. We'll see how you're doing when we finally reach Riverwind. This should go smoothly enough."

  Which only proved that he wasn't much of a prognisticator.

  When it was viewed from orbit, there seemed to be no logical reason that Riverwind should have been given its name. It had an ocean that covered about four-fifths of its surface, and a pair of island continents. There were polar ice caps, and hundreds of tiny islands dotting the ocean, but the only two rivers that were clearly discernible ran directly north to south, one on each continent, without any hint of winding.

  "I don't want to land the ship," Cole announced. "I don't mind their knowing that we're a former Navy ship, but I don't want to give them any added opportunity to identify which ship we are. I know that Slick changed all the insignia, but there are other means of identification."

  "Which shuttle will you be taking, sir?" asked Briggs.

  "The only one I've ever been in is the Kermit"-the ship's three shuttles were the Kermit, the Archie, and the Alice, all named for Theodore Roosevelt's children; a fourth, the Quentin, had been lost in battle months earlier-"so that's the one I'll take. I assume Slick got rid of the insignia?"

  "Yes, sir, I'm told that he did," said Briggs. "Will you be going alone?"

  "No. I don't think that would make the proper impression. Have Bull Pampas, Esteban Morales, and Domak meet me at the Kermit in five minutes."

  "Only those three, sir?"

  "I have a feeling that if there's any trouble, we'd be outnumbered even if I took the whole crew, and if there's not, three's enough. Somebody's got to stay up here and fly the Teddy R."

  "Braxite has volunteered to come with you too, sir," said Christine.

  "No."

  "I'm sure he's going to ask me why not."

  "It's known that Four Eyes and I are the highest-ranking officers on the Teddy R. If anyone down there suspects who I am, having a Molarian along will probably clinch it." He held up a hand. "Before you say it, I know they won't care if they're dealing with Wilson Cole or not. They're probably all in favor of mutineers and fugitives. But they're criminals, and doubtless would be quite willing to extort money and favors for keeping the Teddy R's secret from the Republic." He turned to Briggs. "Pampas, Morales, and Domak. Five minutes."

  "I've fed the landing coordinates into the Kermit, and given it false registration data," said Christine. "It won't hold up to close scrutiny, but I don't imagine David Copperfield could stay in business here if they started giving close scrutiny to his visitors."

  "I agree. Once we touch down, I'll rent some transportation and have Morales direct me to Copperfield's."

  "Don't you want to let him know you're coming?" asked Briggs.

  "No," said Cole. "You're going to let him know."

  "Me, sir?" said Briggs, surprised.

  "If I don't hear any conditions, I don't have to obey them. When we're within a minute of touching down, contact him, tell him our radio is on the blink, and you're making the call for me."

  "Would you rather I wait until you're on the ground, sir?"

  Cole shook his head. "If he's the kind of guy who says do it his way or he shoots, I'd like to know that before we leave the ship and lose contact with you." He began walking to the airlock. "Oh, and have Bull bring the booty. I was thinking of having Sharon come up with a sensorproof case for it, but then I figured, hell, if they examined everything that came through the sp
aceport, Copperfield would be out of business, so I think we're safe carrying it as it is, and I'd rather not waste the extra time."

  He reached the airlock, and a moment later joined Domak in the shuttle bay. Pampas, carrying a sturdy case, arrived in less than a minute, and finally Morales showed up.

  "Sorry it took me so long," he said. "I knew I was meeting you at the Kermit, but no one told me where or what the Kermit was."

  "Just as well you didn't get here first," replied Cole. "It's not the Kermit anymore, though that's the way we still think of it. It's the Flower of Samarkand now. Let's all get aboard it. Domak, you're the best pilot among the four of us. Take us down to the spaceport. It's programmed into the shuttle's navigational computer, so you can do most of it on automatic. I'll handle any messages from the spaceport or anywhere else."

  "Yes, sir," said Domak, saluting and entering the shuttle. The three Men followed her and took their places as she ordered the bay door to open, activated the engine, and the shuttle shot out from the belly of the ship.

  "Tell me a little about David Copperfield," said Cole to Morales as they neared the stratosphere.

  "I've never actually met him, sir," answered Morales. "None of us did."

  "Then you don't know how to get to his headquarters, or warehouse, or wherever the hell it is that he does his business?" asked Cole.

  "Yes I do, sir," said Morales. "But Captain Windsail knew him long before he set up shop on Riverwind. They were old friends, and we always waited outside Mr. Copperfield's home for him. In fact, I've never actually seen Mr. Copperfield."

  "What kind of protection does he have?"

  "I never saw any," said Morales. "But I was told not to step outside the vehicle, that there were ten or twelve guns trained on it."

  "Well, that's comforting," remarked Cole.

  "What's comforting about the fact that he has twelve gunmen covering the vehicle?" asked Domak.

  "If he's got twelve outside, he's got at least that many inside, where the goods are. I find it comforting that he can keep twenty-four people employed. It implies that he knows his business and how to sell what he buys, and that in turn implies that he should be willing to buy what we've got."

  "That's an interesting chain of reasoning," said Domak noncommittally.

  The radio came to life. "This is the Eastern Continent Spaceport. Your ship has identified itself and requested permission to land. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

  "Business," answered Cole.

  "Nature of business?"

  "Am I required by law to answer that question?"

  "Only if you require a visa for more than twenty-four hours," said the voice.

  "We don't. I think eight-hour visas for myself and my associates should suffice."

  "Your ship has transmitted their IDs. Your visas will be waiting for you upon your arrival."

  "Thank you," said Cole, breaking the connection.

  "That was almost too easy, sir," said Pampas.

  "The biggest fence on the Frontier has to make it this easy," answered Cole. "Otherwise people will take their business elsewhere. Other pirates don't want close scrutiny any more than we do, though for different reasons. Or maybe the same reasons, now that I think about it."

  Briggs's image suddenly appeared against a bulkhead.

  "I've contacted them, sir, and they're expecting you. The only restriction they mentioned is that you must leave any weapons at the spaceport or in the vehicle that transports you there."

  "Thanks, Mr. Briggs. We'll leave them here in the ship. Compute our ETA and transmit it to Copperfield."

  Briggs saluted, and then his image vanished.

  "Why didn't we get a visual from the spaceport, I wonder?" said Pampas.

  "That's easy enough. If we can see them, they can see us-and a lot of Copperfield's visitors doubtless prefer not to be seen or identified. Our crimes, such as they are, were against the Republic, which might actually make us very popular with certain elements on the Inner Frontier; but their crimes were committed right here, and people might be more inclined to betray them to bounty hunters or whoever else is enforcing the law out here."

  They touched down in another five minutes, and soon were approaching a trio of Customs and Immigration kiosks. There were short lines at each, mostly composed of Men, but they were being processed very quickly.

  "You'd better give that case to me now," Cole told Pampas.

  "It's pretty heavy, sir."

  "That's okay. If they ask any questions, I want to answer them myself. I'll give it back to you once we've cleared Customs."

  Pampas handed over the case, and Cole walked up to the Customs robot, which was actually a part of the kiosk.

  "Name?" asked the robot.

  Cole shoved his passport disk across the counter. "It's all there," he said. "My companions and I have applied for eight-hour visas. Please add them to our passports and let us through."

  The robot's eyes extended on long metal stalks and an intense beam of light shot out of them as it read Cole's passport disk. The color of the light changed very slightly as it added the visa.

  "This visa will disappear from your passport in exactly eight hours. If you are still on Riverwind at that time, you must report back to Customs and Immigration, Mr.-"

  "Thank you," said Cole, interrupting the robot before it could say his name aloud.

  "What is in the case you are carrying?"

  "Check your regulations and see if someone who is here on an eight-hour visa is required to answer that question."

  "No, sir, you are not required to answer it unless you will be here one full day or more."

  "And you know I will not be here one full day, because I only have an eight-hour visa," said Cole.

  "That is correct, sir," said the robot. "You are free to enter the public areas of the spaceport."

  He passed through Customs, idly wondering how the hell Copperfield ever got the regulations changed. He waited until his crew also cleared, returned the case to Pampas, and began walking toward the door.

  "That was your real passport, wasn't it, sir?" asked Pampas.

  "Yes."

  "Shouldn't you have used a phony?"

  Cole shook his head. "Sharon couldn't fix one that could pass muster in the short period of time we had after dispatching the Achilles. Besides, this is the Inner Frontier, not the Republic. I'm not wanted here, so there's no reason for the robot to report my presence to any authority. I just didn't want it saying my name aloud in front of any bystanders, who might want to sell it, and our location, to interested parties."

  They reached the exit. Cole was about to ask where he could hire some transport, but before he could seek out an information kiosk, a large, burly man who dwarfed even Pampas approached them.

  "Mr. Smith?" he said, stopping in front of Cole. "Mr. Copperfield sends his felicitations, and requests that you follow me."

  "Fine," said Cole. As they began walking, he turned to the man. "How did you know my name was Smith?"

  "I call all visitors Mr. Smith," he said.

  "I approve," said Cole. "And have you a name?"

  "Mr. Jones," replied the man. He stopped in front of a large, luxurious aircar. "Please get in."

  The four of them joined Copperfield's representative. A robot, which was also a component of the vehicle, began driving and the aircar skimmed along, perhaps a foot above the ground. It didn't go far, less than a mile, and they were still inside the city limits when it stopped and all the doors irised to let them out.

  It wasn't the warehouse Cole had anticipated, or the grubby underworld hideout. They found themselves in front of an elegant mansion, built to resemble a country home from a bygone England that still possessed a vast, world-encircling empire. Two footmen in livery-but with burners clearly visible in shoulder holsters-stood at either side of the front entrance.

  "Is this the same place?" whispered Cole.

  "Yeah," said Morales. "But I never even got this far. The Capt
ain had his own aircar, and we weren't allowed to leave it."

  "Please come in, sir," said one of the footmen as the other opened the large wooden door.

  Cole and his party entered, and found that the inside of the house fulfilled the exterior's promise. The furnishings were of a piece, all reproductions from the nineteenth century A.D., some three thousand years ago. They were ushered down a long corridor, past drawing rooms and libraries, and while Cole couldn't spot anyone he got the uneasy feeling that his every step was being observed. At last they came to a chamber that was hidden from them by a magnificent set of double doors.

  The footman who had opened the doors and then brought up the rear of their little procession now moved up to the double doors.

  "Only Mr. Smith is allowed beyond this point," he announced. "The rest of you are welcome to relax in the first lounge we passed. This gentleman"-a new footman bowed-"will show you to it, or you can return to the aircar and wait for Mr. Smith there." He walked over to Pampas. "I'll take this burden from you, sir. You can trust me to be exceedingly gentle with it."

  Pampas and Domak looked questioningly at Cole, who nodded his assent. "Do as the gentleman says. I'll rejoin you shortly."

  Pampas and Morales followed the footman to the lounge, while Morales retraced his steps and went back outside to the vehicle.

  "If you will follow me, sir," said Mr. Jones, opening one of the doors.

  Cole walked into a large library, filled with more books than he had ever seen in his life, most of them bound in leather, all resting on dark hardwood bookshelves. There was a matching hardwood desk in the middle of the room, and leather chairs in comfortable groupings. Behind the desk sat a creature of vaguely human proportions, from a race Cole had never before encountered. He wore the clothing of a Victorian dandy, but his eyes were set at the sides of his elongated head, his large triangular ears were capable of independent movement, his mouth was absolutely circular and had no lips at all, his neck was long and incredibly flexible, his torso was broad and half again as long as a man's, and his legs, short, stubby, and broad, had an extra joint in them. Cole couldn't tell anything about his feet, because they were inside a pair of highly polished leather shoes.