B002D48NTG EBOK

by Mike Resnick

  "Thank you."

  "But I will not tell you my name or how to spell it," it added. Cole imagined that the pre-translated tone was petulant.

  "That is no longer necessary."

  "I must see your identification," said the Lodinite.

  "No."

  "But-"

  "You don't have to see it," said Cole. "I've already passed through security at the spaceport and again when I entered the bank on the main floor, so you know it's valid. All you need is my name, which is Luis Delveccio."

  Another long silent stare. Finally the Lodinite spoke softly into a communicator, then looked back at Cole. "Mr. Austen will see you now."

  "Thank you."

  "He is a very busy man," added the Lodinite. "This had better be important."

  "It's important to me, and the customer is always right," replied Cole. "Where is his office?"

  "I will take you there," said the Lodinite, getting to its feet and waddling off without another word.

  Cole followed it down a corridor, where it turned right and went all the way to the next corner, stopping at a large office. It ordered the door to vanish, announced that Mr. Delveccio was here, waited for Cole to enter, then stepped back into the corridor and ordered the door to reappear.

  Austen was a young man, dressed and groomed to perfection, but looking just a bit haggard, as if he'd dealt with either too many serious claims or too much office politics. He stood up, walked around his polished desk, shook Cole's hand, and asked him to take a seat as he returned to his own chair.

  "It's very rare that I meet personally with one of our clients, Mr. Delveccio," said Austen. "But you clearly have convinced our receptionist that no one else here can handle your particular problem. May I inquire as to its nature?"

  "Let me begin by saying that I'm not a client," said Cole.

  Austen frowned. "Then you want to speak to someone in Sales, not Claims."

  "Why don't you hear me out?" suggested Cole. "I assure you I'm speaking to the man I need to speak to."

  "All right, Mr. Delveccio," said Austen, staring at him curiously. "How can I help you?"

  "You can't," said Cole. "But I think I can help you."

  Austen arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  "My profession can loosely be defined as treasure hunter," said Cole. "I recently came into possession of some items your company has insured-very valuable items. I'll be happy to show you a number of holos so you can positively identify them."

  "For which you want ... ?"

  "We'll negotiate later. First I want you to have someone bring a Neverlie Machine here."

  "That won't be necessary," said Austen.

  "I think it will."

  "Mr. Delveccio, I meet so-called fortune hunters every week. You're going to swear that you didn't steal the items in question, and for whatever reason the Neverlie Machine will confirm your testimony, quite possibly because of the way you word the question. We can save some time if I stipulate up front that I am prepared to accept your word."

  "Are you also willing to sign a statement that Amalgamated will not pursue any legal action against me or cooperate in any police prosecution involving these items?" asked Cole.

  "If we agree to terms, I will sign such a statement," said Austen. "Now, Mr. Delveccio, what have you got?"

  Cole pulled a cube out of his pocket and laid it on the desk. Austen picked it up and inserted it in a computer that was hidden in one of his desk drawers, and an instant later the surface of the desk was covered by holographic images of the tiara and the other jewelry.

  "Do you recognize it?" asked Cole.

  Austen nodded his head. "They belong to Frederica Orloff, the widow of the Governor of Anderson II. Magnificent, aren't they?"

  "I'd say they're worth six million credits, easy," suggested Cole.

  "No," said Austen. "They are worth seven million four hundred thousand credits."

  "Whatever you say."

  "I say that, Mr. Delveccio, because that is the amount we paid on the Orloff claim," replied Austen. "You are in possession of stolen jewelry. They are worth nothing to Amalgamated, as we've already paid off the claim."

  "Then I guess I'll take my leave of you and sell them elsewhere," said Cole, suddenly wary.

  "You're not going anywhere," said Austen. "I don't know how you came by the jewelry, whether you stole it from Mrs. Orloff yourself or whether you stole it from the man who did, but you're a thief, and it's my duty to detain you until the police arrive." He smiled. "Of course, if you were to turn over the jewelry to me, I might be so blinded by its magnificence that I couldn't see you escape ..

  "And then, without telling Amalgamated that this meeting ever took place, you'd get a partner to sell it to Mrs. Orloff for maybe half of what you already paid her?" suggested Cole. "Now that I know who it belonged to, I can do that myself."

  "Only if you can leave the building," noted Austen, "and I can hit the alarm on my computer before you can reach me."

  He's probably not bluffing-so my first order of business is to get out of the building in one piece. If the police detain me for even an hour, they're going to find out who I really am.

  "All right," said Cole. "You seem to have the advantage. Let's deal."

  "There's no dealing involved," said Austen. "Your take me to the jewelry-I assume you're bright enough not to have it on your person-and I let you leave McAllister without turning you over to the police."

  "I deserve a little something for getting the jewelry and bringing it to you," persisted Cole. You'll never agree, but it might scare you off if I don't behave in a normal manner, and a thief-even one who was just caught in the act-would normally ask for a piece of the action after having gone to all the trouble of obtaining the jewelry.

  "We'll discuss it-after I get my hands on the stuff."

  Cole paused an appropriate length of time, as if considering, then shrugged. "All right. I guess I'm going to have to trust you."

  "A wise decision," said Austen, opening a drawer and pulling out a small burner. He got to his feet and gestured toward the door. "Shall we go?"

  Cole got up and walked to the door.

  "Remember," said Austen, pressing the burner into Cole's back. "No sudden movements."

  Cole walked back to the reception area, then stepped into the airlift. Austen followed him.

  "Keep your back to me."

  Cole stood facing the wall of the airlift until they reached ground level, then walked out into the bank lobby and headed for the exit.

  "Stop," said Austen. He spoke softly into a communicator. "I've ordered my aircar. It will be here in a minute and can take us to the spaceport-unless you've hidden the goods between here and there?"

  "Get the car," said Cole.

  "I keep getting the feeling that I've seen you before," remarked Austen as they walked outside and stood waiting for the aircar.

  "This is my first time on McAllister."

  "I know. I've only been here three months myself. But you seem very familiar."

  The aircar pulled up and hovered a few inches about the ground. Cole got in first, and after they were both seated Austen ordered it to head to the spaceport.

  "Is it here?" he asked. "On the planet, I mean?"

  If I say yes, you'll kill me right now, because you'll know the only place it can be is on my ship.

  "No," answered Cole.

  "Where then?"

  "Elsewhere."

  "You know I'll kill you if I decide you're lying to me," said Austen.

  "And you know you'll never see the jewelry if you kill me," replied Cole. "Just relax and you'll see it soon enough."

  "Then it's somewhere in the solar system?"

  "No comment."

  "I'll take that as an affirmative," said Austen.

  "Take it any way you want," said Cole. "But remember that there are fourteen planets and fifty-six moons in the system. You'll never find it without me."

  They rode in silence for the next few minutes, an
d then the aircar came to a halt.

  "We have reached the spaceport," announced the aircar.

  "Take us to the area reserved for private ships," said Cole. "Aisle 17, Slot 32."

  "I am not programmed to respond to your voice, sir," said the robot.

  "Aisle 17, Slot 32," said Austen, and the vehicle immediately began approaching the location. "You're sure we've never met before?" he said, staring intently at Cole.

  "Never." He looked out a window. "We're here."

  "Return to my reserved space beneath the Amalgamated building when we exit, and once there go to standby mode."

  "Yes, sir," replied the aircar.

  They climbed out and approached Cole's ship.

  "No sudden moves," warned Austen.

  "Sudden moves aren't my style," replied Cole. He stood before the hatch and uttered a seven-digit number.

  Nothing happened.

  Frowning, he uttered the number again.

  Still nothing.

  "I just bought the damned thing," he said apologetically, "and I guess I haven't memorized the codes yet." He began reaching his hand into a side pocket.

  "Hold it!" snapped Austen sharply. "What are you doing?"

  "Getting the code log," answered Cole. "Unless you want to stand here all day."

  "You stand still," said Austen. "I'll get it."

  "I'm not armed."

  "Maybe not with a burner or a screecher, but how the hell do I know what you have in that pocket? It could be a knife, it could be anything."

  Austen reached a hand into Cole's pocket-and as he did so, Cole spun around and knocked the burner from his hand. It went flying through the air, landing on the concrete some twenty feet away and skidding for another ten feet.

  Austen cursed and took a swing at Cole, who blocked it with a forearm and lashed out with a foot, catching Austen on the knee. There was a crunching sound and the young man collapsed, writhing in pain.

  Cole walked over to where the burner lay and picked it up, then returned to Austen.

  "This is your lucky day, Mr. Austen."

  "Fuck you!" muttered Austen.

  "Oh, you probably feel that you've lost a fortune, and maybe you have, but I'm letting you live, and that ought to be even more to you than filthy lucre."

  "You wouldn't dare kill me!" snarled Austen. "There are security cameras all the hell around the spaceport. Within an hour every world in the Republic would be on the alert for you!"

  "I thought the Republic had more important things to do," commented Cole dryly.

  Suddenly Austen's eyes went wide at the mention of the Republic. "Now I know where I've seen you! Your holo's been on every newscast in the galaxy! You bet your ass the Republic has more important things to do than chasing down a jewel thief or a killer! They've got to hunt down Wilson Cole and kill him for the goddamned turncoat he is!"

  "Brave words for an unarmed man with a shattered knee," commented Cole.

  "Fuck you, traitor! Shoot and get it over with!"

  "Don't tempt me," said Cole. He pointed the burner at a spot between Austen's eyes, and the younger man immediately fell silent. "You know," continued Cole, "I spent more than a decade as an officer in the Republic's Navy. I won four Medals of Courage. I can't tell you how many times I put my life on the line. It's when I realize I did all that for people like you that I feel like the biggest sucker ever born."

  "So now you fight for the Teroni Federation!" accused Austen.

  "I have no more use for them than I have for the Republic," answered Cole. "Now I fight for me."

  "That just makes you a common criminal."

  "No," said Cole. Suddenly he smiled. "I prefer to think of myself as an uncommon one. I'm so uncommon that I'm not even going to shoot you down in cold blood. You're going to walk with a limp for the rest of your life, and your superiors will be informed of what you planned to do behind their backs. I think that's punishment enough."

  He ordered the hatch to open.

  "I'll tell the Navy, and they'll come after you!" vowed Austen. "They'll never rest until you're dead!"

  "There's a war going on," said Cole just before he closed the hatch behind him. "They've got better things to do than chase after one man."

  He said it with bravado, and it sounded logical-but deep down in his gut, he knew it wasn't true.

  Cole knew he had to get rid of his ship before rejoining the Teddy R. There were no signs of pursuit, but the registration was a matter of record, and he was sure Austen would have reported his presence to the authorities even before he was carted off to the hospital.

  He set the ship's scrambler on a prearranged code and then made contact with the Teddy R.

  "Where are you, sir?" asked Rachel Marcos, who was running the communications system when the connection was made.

  "I'd prefer not to say, just to be on the safe side."

  Rachel frowned. "Are you all right, sir?"

  "So far so good. But I've got to dump this ship and either find another one or contact you later and tell you where to pick me up."

  "If you're in danger-" she began.

  "I'm not in any immediate danger," said Cole. "Capture my transmission and pass it on to Four Eyes, Christine, and Sharon."

  "Yes, sir. How long before we hear from you again?"

  "I don't know. Probably no more than a day or two. I want to go deeper into the Frontier to make sure I'm not being followed. Then I'll see about replacing this ship."

  "At least you have the money from the jewelry to pay for it," said Rachel.

  "We'll talk about that when I rejoin the Teddy R. I'm going to break off the communication now. If this transmission's being monitored, I don't want anyone to trace it to your end, and Christine tells me that it takes about two minutes. I've been in contact for ninety seconds."

  He broke the connection, then had his navigational computer throw up a three-dimensional map of the sector in which he found himself. There were ninety-three inhabited worlds within five hundred light-years, fifty-one of them human colonies, agricultural and mining worlds, and various outposts. He recognized only a few names-Ophir, a gold-mining world; Bluegrass, an agricultural world specializing in enormous mutated cattle; and Alpha Jameson II, known more commonly as Bombast, valued for its uranium deposits and famed for its erratic and frequent volcanic eruptions. Finally he hit upon Basilisk, a small world that seemed to have only a single tradertown, one of those ramshackle ports that appealed to independent miners, adventurers, and misfits. Most tradertowns boasted a few hotels (though in bygone days bed-and-breakfasts would better describe them), survey and assay offices, whorehouses that were rarely populated exclusively by females or even humans, a few bars, a few drug dens, and a casino or two. Cole never understood the attraction of the tradertowns, but then he never understood what would make a man want to farm or mine a desolate world a trillion miles from the comforts of civilization. He was an officer in the Republic's Navy by choice, and a pirate on the Inner Frontier merely by happenstance.

  He saw no reason to remain awake during the voyage, so he directed the computer to take him to Basilisk, and to wake him when the ship entered orbit around the planet or received a transmission from Basilisk's spaceport.

  "One more thing," he said as he leaned back and his command chair morphed into a small bed. "There's a chance that we're being followed. If we are, they're being damned clever about it. No one's going to be directly on our tail, but keep an eye out and let me know if you spot anything funny."

  "I have no eye, and therefore cannot keep one out," answered the computer. "And I have no sense of humor, so I cannot possibly identify anything funny."

  "That being the case," said Cole, "just let me know if we're being followed."

  He leaned back, clasped his fingers behind his head, and was asleep within a matter of seconds.

  "Sir," said the computer's mechanical voice.

  "What is it?" asked Cole. "Am I supposed to sign off before I take my nap?"

 
"We are entering orbit around Basilisk," announced the ship.

  "You're kidding!"

  "I am incapable of any form of humor," the computer explained.

  "It feels like I just closed my eyes a second ago," said Cole. "How long was I asleep?"

  "Five hours, seventeen minutes, and four seconds, sir, based on your pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure, and respiration."

  "Has anyone from the planet asked for your registration, my ID, our flight plan, anything?"

  "No, sir."

  "They've got to know we're here." Suddenly a satisfied smile crossed Cole's face. "That means I chose the right world. It's so small we're not going to need permission to land, and they won't ask for your registration or my passport. There'll be no Customs, no Immigration, no temporary visas, nothing." He paused. "Okay, from the information that was programmed into you, there seems to be just one tradertown. Find out where all the ships and shuttles are clustered and land there."

  The ship entered the atmosphere and touched down a few minutes later. Cole climbed out, ordered the hatch to close and lock, and walked just under a mile to the largest of the three bars. There were a number of tables spread across the front half of the room; toward the back were the various gambling games. Men mingled with aliens, some dressed in brilliant finery, others wearing outfits that looked like they hadn't been washed in years. The newly rich and the newly poor rubbed shoulders at the tables and at the long polished bar.

  Cole surveyed his surroundings, then walked over to the bar, shouldering his way through the crowd clustered there. A robot, all head, arms, torso, and wheels, slid down the length of it until it stopped opposite him.

  "What can I serve you?" it asked.

  "A beer."

  "What brand, sir?"

  "What have you got?"

  "We have fifty-three brands from forty-two different planets, sir."

  "You choose one."

  "I am not programmed to make value judgments, sir. I can produce a list of our beer brands if you wish."

  "Forget it. Give me whatever's on tap."

  "We have fourteen brands on tap."

  "He'll take a Blue Star," said a feminine voice off to his left. "And he'll buy me one, too."