This time she laughed aloud before clapping her hand over her mouth. "Yahweh is a city of banks, sire Amedon. There is one on nearly every street corner. I believe there is one on the same block as the inn."
"Excellent," Cale smiled. "I'll also need to purchase a bag large enough to carry thirty thousand carats of diamonds without being conspicuous. Where might I obtain such a bag?
She led him to the door, nodding as it opened. "Godssons. One block down, two blocks right."
Cale bade her goodbye, and strode off
The bank exchanged his wen at a reasonable discount. The food at the sign of the angel was simple, but very well prepared and presented. The meat, called 'cabra', passed well for beef, and a large array of accompanying vegetables left Cale feeling stuffed.
Despite the austerity their religious beliefs imposed, Cale found the citizens of Yahweh to be bluff, hearty, cheerful, and honest, for the most part. He liked them, and enjoyed wandering the downtown area until the allotted time.
Promptly at a quarter past fifteen, Cale returned to the gem shop. This time the door swept open at his approach. The young woman was just inside to greet him warmly, and Lordsman himself bustled from the rear of the shop with a bag of diamonds even larger than the one he had taken from Peng.
Lordsman seated him at the light table and, after making sure a cup and a carafe of hot tea were available, left him to examine each diamond with a scanner.
It was nearly three hours later that Cale stood stretched stiff muscles, and smiled at Lordsman. "Excellent quality stones, sire Lordsman, and at least a full measure of carats. It is an honor to deal with a man of such integrity"
Lordsman nodded. "Thank you, gracious sir. It has been a rare pleasure to deal with so mannerly an off-worlder." His eyes twinkled and he leaned close "I would have paid thirty-five!" he murmured with a wide smile.
Cale smiled conspiratorially. "I'd have taken twenty-five." Both men laughed aloud as Cale left the shop. Cale hailed one of the rare animal-drawn cabs and headed for the shuttle port.
Both his transactions had been successful, and Cale now had over fifty thousand carats in diamonds of easily negotiable size. He could afford to live a luxurious life anywhere in man-settled space. In fact, on many planets, he would be the world's richest private citizen. It was time to do some serious planning. Did he really want to retire? Did he want to study law on Ilocan and settle in as a prominent attorney, able to pick and choose his clients? Or perhaps try to sneak into the Alliance, with its peacefulness and high living standard? He was surprised to find that he was reluctant to leave Scorpion. It would be hard to smuggle her into the Alliance with her weapons intact. And he still might need those weapons. He knew better than to underestimate Townley and his pirates.
Of course, there was his "plan B"; travel the Old Empire as a courier, offering high-speed transport of high value passengers and freight. It was tempting, but Cale knew that eventually one of those high value shipments would attract pirates. And successfully fighting one off would be almost as bad as being taken. Rumors circulate quickly in the interstellar underworld, and the last thing he needed would be to draw attention in pirate circles!
As L’rak pulled away from the orbiting station and headed for the jump point, Cale began to worry. Was Yan right? Did he really need a "plan C"?
He had to admit that retirement held no attraction for him. In his mid-thirties, he was far too young to just sit in one place and vegetate. Besides, people his age living luxuriously with no visible means of support attract the attention of tax and law enforcement authorities. Yan was right about one thing. He was not a businessman. Twice he had failed miserably at trade. He was not tempted to try a third time.
Cale had still reached no conclusions as he jumped. As the violent inside out, twisting sensations of entering jump faded, he heard a strangled retch from the tiny "cabin" behind his head. Astonished, he yanked the door open and a figure tumbled to the deck, retching and covered with vomit.
At first, it looked like just a bundle of rags, but as he drew his belt knife, it resolved itself into a girl or young woman, buried in a mass of petticoats and a huge overcoat.
She lay half on her side, still retching, though now vomit was no longer being produced.
Slowly the spasms faded, replaced by moans of misery. Despite his anger, Cale had to smile. He was very familiar with the effects a jump could have on the unprepared. He waited patiently as the retching turned to moans and finally to sobs.
Finally, he grabbed a reasonably clean wrist and jerked the girl to her feet. From Ararat, obviously. The white cap was askew, revealing coal-black hair. Most of the petticoats had settled, though her skirt seemed to be tangled in an Ararat man's greatcoat. Cale got the impression that the tear and vomit-stained face might be reasonably attractive, but in her current condition, he couldn't be sure.
Stowaways are nearly unheard of in space. For one thing, ship's ladings are calculated for mass to the last gram. So, they are usually detected long before liftoff. For another, even the stupidest groundhog should know that ship's provisions and air are calculated as closely as cargo. A stowaway could kill himself and everyone else aboard by using up their air while in jump.
Nothing and no one could leave a ship in jump space. For one thing, who or whatever was ejected would theoretically drift forever in jump space, a total nothingness that no one had ever been able to locate or identify. For another, the change in the ship's mass would mean she would never reach her target jump point. The ship, too, would drift forever in jump space, her crew presumably slowly dying as the air and food ran out.
Cale felt stupid. How did he ever miss an extra fifty-or-so kilos when the station reported L'rak's departing mass readings? Well, at least the astrogation comp had included the extra mass in its figures. Hopefully. He'd know in about . . . eighty-four hours, when L'rak was supposed to emerge into normal space.
Cale shook the wrist he was holding, furious at this fool of a girl. "Are you insane?" he shouted.
The girl shrank from his anger. "Yes." she replied in a tone muffled in greatcoat.
That was the one response Cale had not been expecting. "What?" She pulled on her wrist, and in his surprise, Cale let go. She overbalanced and fell to the deck again. This time she struggled back to her feet, red-faced and flailing as she fought to remove the oversized coat.
She threw the coat to the deck and stood, hands on hips, face angry. "I said, 'yes'," she spit out. "At least everyone on Ararat thinks I am!"
Cale was regaining his mental balance. "I think so, too," he replied in a sarcastic tone. "Don't you know that every gram of mass aboard a ship must be accounted? Every cubic centimeter of air? You may have killed us both!"
Her red face whitened and she looked stunned. "What? What?"
"If your mass wasn't included in the ship's jump calculations, we'll never emerge from jump space," Cale shouted, emphasizing his words with punches of his index finger against her breastbone. "Not to mention the fact that we may not have enough air to even make it to the emergence jump point. L'rak may emerge with only two corpses aboard! If we weren't already in jump, I'd push you out the airlock!"
Cale had thought he was prepared for any reaction, but he was wrong. The girl fell to her knees, bowed her head, pressed her palms together in front of her face, eyes closed, and began to murmur softly.
Cale stood mouth gaping, speechless as the girl continued with what was obviously a prayer. After a moment, he rolled his eyes in disgust and returned to the pilot's seat, shaking his head, and trying desperately to remember how to make L'rak's astrogation comp recall the mass figures it had used in the jump. If the comp had used the station figures, and those figures were accurate, they could still emerge in the right galaxy.
He finally succeeded, and the comp had used the station's figures. He breathed a huge sigh of relief, just as he heard a stirring behind him as the girl rose to her feet. She squeezed herself between the two seats, and large, dark eyes regard
ed him with an unnatural calmness.
"I'm ready," she said quietly.
Cale rolled his eyes again. "Ready for what?"
"Ready to be put out the airlock," she replied quietly. "I have made my peace with our Lord, and I apologize most humbly, noble sire, for my actions and my lack of manners before. Now, having made my peace with you as well as the Lord, I am prepared for my fate."
Rolling his eyes seemed to be becoming a habit. "Nobody is going out the airlock!" Cale exclaimed. He swiveled the pilot's chair to face the small open area that passed for a cabin. He waved irritably. "Get over there and let's get a look at you."
She said nothing, but moved into the small clear space and stood quietly. The bulky Ararat clothing revealed little of her shape, but she was about 155 cems tall, and seemed to mass about 55 kilos. She seemed quite young, though it was difficult to tell under the vomit staining her face and clothing.
Speaking of the vomit, the sour smell was beginning to permeate the tiny ship.
Cale heaved a gusty sigh. "I don't suppose you know how to use a shipboard 'fresher? No? I thought not." He squeezed past her and opened the door to the rudimentary 'fresher. He showed her how to stand and let the sonics loosen dirt and dead skin, and then showed her how to don the air mask and seal herself inside the transparent bag while a brief soapy shower washed away what the sonics had loosened. He then demonstrated how the bag deflated itself, squeezing out the water for recycling before packing itself away to reveal a spacer's toilet (He'd show her how to use that later — when the stench wasn't so strong!) and a basin that could hold about two cups of water for other ablutions.
"Your pardon, noble sire," she protested, "But there is no room! Where am I to disrobe?"
Cale forcibly suppressed another eye roll. "Here. This is a very small ship. There is no provision for privacy."
She looked stunned. "But sire, it is . . ."
He waved a hand. "Unseemly, scandalous, indecent, immoral . . . any other words you'd care to add? As you may have noticed, we left Ararat some time ago, and it is by now light-years away. I'm afraid you're about to learn that the rest of the universe does not subscribe to Ararat morality."
Her head jerked from side to side, obviously seeking an escape. Finally, she asked, "Uh, noble sire, may I disrobe in the sleeping accommodation in which I was hiding?"
Cale chuckled. "You can try. But even if you close the bunk, the floor is covered with slimy vomit. You'll be cleaning that up later, by the way."
She frowned. "Perhaps I should clean the, uh, bink? And floor before bathing, noble sire."
"It's 'bunk', not 'bink'," Cale replied. "And do so if you wish. But go easy on the water. A ship this size doesn't really run to a full recycler, and the tanks are limited.
They found a small plas bag that was watertight, and she began her smelly task. He returned to the pilot's seat and tried without success to concentrate on a novel he had been reading.
Ruth set to her task. Cleaning up vomit didn't bother her; she had five younger brothers and sisters, and had cleaned up after them more than once. Actually, she was grateful for the task. Ruth was terrified. Pastor Goodman had once told her to be careful what she wished for – she might get it. It had sounded important, but she really didn't understand it then. Now, though, it seemed very wise, indeed!
Ever since she'd found that cache of condemned books when she was twelve, she had dreamed of escaping the drab world of her birth to explore the universe. To actually sail between God's stars and survey His handiwork! Her father, Pastor Goodman, even her teachers in school had tried to dissuade her, to tell her of the horrible and unnatural ways of the offworlders. Depravity, rape, and murder were casual occurrences on other worlds, and she would be in danger of losing her immortal soul!
However, Ruth did not believe them. Offworlders were God's creatures, too, weren't they? Well, Pastor Goodman had told her that the offworlders had turned away from God, and embraced the evil ways of Shaitan. He said that Ararat was an outpost of godliness and civilization in a veritable sea of depravity. That's why all interstellar traffic, even those ships capable of landing, was forbidden to touch the soil of Ararat. Ararat needed their trade, but feared contamination.
Yes, there had been evil characters in the books, and smoking, drinking, drugs, and even dancing were portrayed as casual activities. Even sexual contact between men and women had been portrayed. But there were evil people and sinners on Ararat, too, weren't there? What about that man two villages over who'd murdered his entire family? And what about Patience Godslove from their own village? Hadn't she been whipped out of the village for being found in the arms of a man?
It had taken her weeks of effort to convince her parents, her pastor, and the board governing the space station that she could hold down a cleaner's job there. She suspected that her parents felt that once she was exposed to the offworld scum, she would flee back to their welcoming arms. Once on the station, she had been caught once trying to stow away. The spacer that had found her had been gruff and impolite, and used the most scandalous language, but he had agreed not to notify the station authorities, claiming she reminded him of his daughter.
Finally, the little ship came in, and she knew her chance had come. The Proctor said it was the smallest ship ever to visit Ararat, and that it carried only one man. A whole ship for one man! Surely, there would be room for a small girl, as well!
At first it had been exciting, sneaking aboard when the work crew was servicing the air and water supplies, though she had been surprised at how small everything was. Then she felt the ship moving, and knew she was actually in the space between the Lord's stars! She had prayed, of course. Where better? But then the time had dragged. The most horrible wrenching feeling had awakened her, as though the whole universe had suddenly gone mad. And in the midst of her agony, she had been discovered. Too sick to apologize, too sick to plead, too sick to even speak her carefully rehearsed speech. And then that hard, strong hand had seized her wrist, and the man she had thought had a kind look had shouted at her, told her that she might have killed them both! All she could do was make her peace with God and the man, and offer up her life in expiation.
And what now? How was she to wash the filth from her body? The complicated mechanism she had been shown intimidated her. There were few machines in the village, and though there were many on the space station, there were special caretakers for them. What if she couldn't figure out how to use the thing? Dear Lord, even if she disrobed in the bink . . . uh 'bunk', how was she to get to the 'fresher? She had to strip. Her clothes were filthy and fouled. She would be completely naked, and he would be there! He would see her! Even husbands were not permitted to see their wives naked, except in cases of emergency or serious illness. Maybe she could keep her underwear. No, he had told her they would interfere with the 'sonics', whatever they were. And if she couldn't remember how to use the complicated 'fresher, she would be forced to invite him to see her as he helped her. She felt tears begin to well up.
NO! She would not cry. The man would think her a child. She swallowed, and took her courage in both hands. The man had said that the morals of Ararat were not the morals of the universe, though she did not understand how that could be. Wouldn't the Lord make certain that His rules were followed throughout the universe He created? But the man had sounded sincere. And it seemed the authorities on Ararat agreed. Wasn't that what they had really been warning her about? That other places had different ideas of right and wrong? Could there really be different customs and beliefs, like the ones in those books?
She steeled herself. Yes, there obviously could. This man and those books proved it. She had not believed it at the time, but one of those books maintained that there were places where people truly did not believe in the Lord of All. How could they then discern right from wrong, good from evil?
Apparently, she was about to find out. If they survived this 'jump', the man had mentioned. Suddenly, she was looking forward to it. She knew right from
wrong. She had studied the holy word since she would walk. Yes. She would walk through the valley of the shadow of sin and she would fear no evil! And she would fear no man, either!
Finished with the cleaning, she approached the man. "Noble sire, my clothing is fouled. Is there fresh clothing aboard that I may wear?"
Cale turned to her with a smile. “There is clothing, but I'm not sure you'll have the courage to wear it. In the locker in that stateroom, you will find several shipsuits. Those are coveralls that are normally worn by both sexes while in space."
"Coverall?"
Cale stood. "This is a shipsuit," he said, indicating his own garment.
Ruth grabbed hold of her panic. Yes, it had trousers. Unthinkable for a woman. On Ararat, she finished. The man had said they were normally worn by both sexes. Very well. The sly grin on the man's face showed that he knew what she was thinking. She would show him!
She composed her face. "Thank you for your kindness, noble sire. Now, if I may beg one more favor?" Cale nodded, and she continued, "It is not our custom to appear unclothed before strangers, noble sire. May I beg your word that you will keep your eyes averted while I bathe?"
Cale grinned, but it was not an evil grin. Rather, it was the grin of one who sees humor in the request. Could it be that these people could even be casual about nakedness? "I understand," he replied, “and I will keep my eyes to myself. You had better know, though, that we're going to be living in very close quarters for several weeks. I'm not sure your modesty is going to survive."
Weeks! She had not thought that far ahead. She looked around her. The kitchen at home was larger than the entire cabin space. The man was right. Even if they tried, there was virtually no chance they would be able to avoid seeing each other's naked bodies. Panic surged, but she clamped down on it, hard. She had brothers. She knew what made a man. And he surely knew the makings of a woman. Regardless, she would survive. A minor sin at worst.
"I understand, noble sire. I suppose we will have to deal with many differences in the weeks ahead. For the moment, however, I crave your indulgence."
The Privateer Page 6
