The Privateer

by Zellmann, William

  "All of these, except the first, of course, will be subject to negotiation and possible modification by special commissions appointed by each government over the next two years." she laid down the tablet. "Any comments or counterproposals, Señor Presidente?"

  Calderon smiled. "No military occupation? No puppet government or forced new constitution?"

  Jessica smiled as she shook her head. "No. We do not have the military forces to occupy the entire planet of Santiago. Nor would we want them. Any puppet government or forced constitutional change would only enhance the standing of those politicians we discussed. Besides, if I had anything to say about a new constitution, it would do away with all your government giveaways, and would only enrage the people."

  Calderon sighed and rose to begin pacing. "Yes. Since the war failed, and we will be unable to deport our excess population, I must find a way to do the same thing without provoking riots. The economists all say that if the current situation continues, we'll be in a planetary depression within five years."

  Jessica's smile widened. "You'll forgive me if I don't weep for you, since you were instrumental in establishing most of those giveaways."

  Calderon stopped pacing long enough to show Jessica a rueful smile. "Yes, I was. I was a fool. We taxed the producers to buy votes until they moved off-planet, and then we extended our taxing authority until they left the whole system. Your raid took care of the few that remained. That is why we made war, Madam President. Desperation!"

  Jessica shrugged. "It's not my problem, Señor Presidente. However, have you considered colonization to draw off your excess? Living on the dole is not really very satisfying. Perhaps if you offered them a challenge . . ."

  He stopped pacing and smiled. "We thought about colonization. We decided it was too expensive. Maybe we should take another look. Thank you, Madam President. I have no immediate reaction to your demands. If you can provide me a copy, perhaps we could go into more detail tomorrow." She agreed, and he suited up and clumped to the airlock, memory crystal in hand.

  ******

  The two Presidents stood on the balcony overlooking Homesafe. The loud noise and controlled chaos of construction was everywhere. Government House was one of the few buildings in the city that had suffered only minor damage, though blaster burns and pits from projectile impacts were obvious.

  "Madam President," said Alfredo Calderon. "I believe we have done well, so far. Your insistence that the rebuilding be at Santiago expense made it possible for me to ram through a law requiring those physically able to work to do so at government projects in order to receive their dole. And your willingness to accept labor in lieu of cash payment gave me something to put them to work at.

  Jessica smiled. "I take it your welfare rolls are shrinking?"

  "Indeed. Many of our people have suddenly discovered that working for an employer pays more than drawing the dole from the government, now that they will have to work either way. Our unemployment rate is at half its previous level."

  "Yes," Jessica replied, "but it was the help of your 'communication consultants' that made it possible for me to accept that labor. There is a lot of hate among Ilocanos. Many here wanted to drain your treasury dry, and force every Santiagan into virtual slavery."

  Alfredo shrugged. "I have had a lot of experience using propagandists – uh, 'communication consultants'. Luckily, they can just as useful in the service of good as in the service of evil. I made great use of them in pushing through that so-called 'Workfare' law. However, never forget, Jessica, that they are totally amoral; a two-edged sword. They can be as useful to your opponents as they are to you."

  They turned from the balcony and returned inside the President's office. "Well," she said, "here are the two young men I wanted you to meet, Señor Presidente. This is Colonel Brot Tonis of the Ilocano Militia, now General of the Ilocan Defense Forces."

  Calderon smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, General," he said in his accented but fluent standard.

  Tonis, with a grim expression, merely nodded slightly.

  Calderon's smile only widened. "Yes, General, I am the bastard who sent those other bastards. I hope someday you can find a way to forgive me. Have you met any, uh, 'Santies' recently?"

  Tonis nodded again, and his stony expression softened slightly. "I've worked with a few of your engineers on building requirements. They seemed okay."

  "No horns or fangs?"

  A faint smile pulled at Tonis's mouth. "No, sir. But then, they didn't have blasters, either."

  Jessica took Calderon's arm and turned him to meet the other young man. "And this, señor Presidente, is Cale Rankin, the scrap dealer who won the war for us."

  Calderon looked at the slight, dark young man. So this was Ilocan's secret weapon. He seemed a normal enough young man, nothing special. Until you noticed his eyes. Those eyes were old. They had seen things a man in his thirties should not have seen – that no man should see. Alfredo had seen eyes like that before, as he presented a medal to a man who had ended a hostage situation by slaughtering eight gang members after spending a week infiltrating them. This young man was much more than a mere scrap dealer. "Ah," he said heartily, "the hero who snatched victory from the very jaws of defeat. It is an honor, indeed, sire Rankin."

  Cale reddened. "Really, Señor Presidente," he replied, "I merely offered the loan of a few credits and some scrapped ships."

  Calderon shook his head. "And I understand that remarkable vessel in orbit with the huge laser is one of your stock?"

  "Not anymore!" came a booming voice, as Ster Mong strode into the room. "Pardon me for interrupting, madam President, but I could not miss the opportunity to meet the Presidente. Especially since I missed the opportunity when we visited Santiago!" His broad grin and outstretched hand removed any offense at his words.

  "Señor Presidente, "Jessica said, "This rather forceful, tactless person is our Minister of Defense, Ster Mong. He commanded Ilocan's Revenge during the raid.

  Calderon's smile was wide and genuine. "Ah! We wondered what had made those remarkable holes in our orbital factories! I'm pleased to meet you, sire Minister."

  Mong's smile faded. "And I you, señor Presidente. It is an honor. Please know that I completely support our president's current policies toward your planet. But we bought that ridiculous toy of Cale's, just in case!" he laughed aloud.

  Calderon nodded soberly. "I can assure you that you will not need it against Santiago for at least two years. Beyond that . . . he shrugged.

  Zant and Dee arrived after they had left the office and retired to Jessica's home for a friendly, unofficial chat. The house had sustained damage, and the sounds of banging and sawing were distracting, but she refused to stay anywhere else. A motley collection of furniture had been assembled in her once-luxurious lounge. Once they were ensconced in comfortable overstuffed chairs with drinks in hand, the conversation resumed.

  "What about that home of yours, Cale, the one you've been buying by mail?" Jessica asked. "Any luck tracking down the broker?"

  Cale sighed. "Actually, he found me. He was anxious to show me that he was honest." A sour grin rose. "He actually borrowed a flitter so he could take me out and show me that the fact that my two-story villa was just a burned-out shell wasn't his fault, and that the neighborhood had been nice, before the war."

  "Be sure you file the claim, Cale," Jessica said. "I'll see to it that it gets priority treatment."

  "I, too," Calderon added. "I will place pressure on the commission to insure your claim receives priority." Jessica turned to him with a quizzical look, and he continued, "Come, Jessica, what is the use of having power if one cannot occasionally use it improperly?"

  Amid general laughter, Jessica spread her hands in pretended exasperation. "And he says he's reformed!" she said. She turned to Zant. "What about you, Zant? Are you going to take out a loan to buy that Strengl? Or maybe stake out a few hectares and put in a trap line?

  Cale chuckled. “Zant’s decided he’s tired of frontier lif
e,” he said.

  Zant frowned, “Naw, not really. But I owe those folks on Selfa, and I’ve been thinkin’ about those folks on Vishnu. And then I met this fella named Captain Tor-Jen, and he came up with this idea . . .”

  Jessica laughed aloud. “Tor Jen? I thought he was irreversibly retired.” She put on a massive frown and deepened her voice, “'No, madam, I won’t serve on your Planetary Council. I am retired and I’m not going to do anything but sit on my verandah and drink until I grow roots.'” She quoted.

  Cale laughed and took another swallow of his drink. “Well, now that the war's over, it seems that sitting on your, uh, verandah and not having anyone to shout at is boring him to death.”

  “Yeah,” Zant said. “Anyway, he had me over for drinks on that verandah of his. Well, we got to talkin’ about Vishnu, and how with the Empire gone, planets were losin’ civilization left and right. The more we talked, the more we drank, and the more we drank the better the talk got.

  “We talked about how bored he was, and he happened to mention he was licensed for Beta-class ships, and one thing kind of led to another . . .”

  Cale laughed again. “Zant and Tor-Jen decided to form a company. They’re going to buy that old Beta-class liner I have. Tor-Jen thinks he can hire a short crew on shares."

  "Don't let him kid you," Zant put in. "He's in on this, too!"

  Jessica turned back to Zant. “You’re going to run a liner? What are you going to do for customers? I haven’t heard of a liner making a profit in this sector for years.”

  Zant smiled smugly. “Not ‘liner,’” he corrected, “Relocation and Recolonization ship. We figure there’s lots of folks like those on Vishnu that would pay to get off-planet, relocate somewhere else. They wouldn’t insist on liner-class treatment, either.”

  Jessica looked puzzled. “But where would you take them? Ilocan agreed to take the Vishnu techs that worked on the ships and their families, but we’re not about to open up wholesale immigration."

  Zant snickered and waved his glass in Cale’s direction. “That’s his problem.”

  Cale gave a sheepish shrug. “Yes, I’m part of it, too. I'm chipping in a third of the liner's cost, plus a small investment. I’m the scout. Oh, not in the sense of the Old Empire’s Scout Corps, who searched for new systems and planets. Actually, I’ll be looking for old systems and planets. For one thing, there are hundreds of known earthlike planets that were apparently never settled. Then there are dozens that have been out of touch for centuries.” He shrugged. “Some of them will have destroyed themselves, and some will have reverted to iron, or even Stone Age. But there will be others that will be happy to accept skilled immigrants; some might even pay a ‘finder’s fee’ for those with special skills. Of course, others might want to fight, some might try to steal Cheetah, and others will be dangerous for other reasons. I think it will be fun, and Cheetah is perfect for it.”

  She turned her smile on Zant. "And what will you be doing, Zant? Besides sitting on your, uh, verandah?"

  "Me?" He replied in a haughty tone, "I will be running the whole show! While Cale gallivants all over the universe, and Tor-Jen drives the truck, I will be managing the company. Why, in six months, I'll need an assistant, and in a year, I'll have a whole staff. I'll do everything from sales, to assembling the packages, running training, and even leading advance parties."

  He rose and quaffed his drink dramatically. “It’ll be great!” he exclaimed. “We’re gonna consult with some experts here on Ilocan, and put together ‘colonization packages’”. He threw his arms out and his voice took on the deepened tones of a professional announcer. “Call Jenfu, Rankin, and Tor-Jen for the adventure of a lifetime! We provide complete colonization packages for any size groups and to fit any budget. If all you need is a simple initial planetary survey, we can provide it; but we can also provide everything from tents to prefab communities complete with air-conditioned homes, including building materials, ovum for domestic animals, and virtually anything else required to colonize. We also welcome adventurous individuals who can meet our rigorous standards. Call our local office for lists of current planets open for entry!”

  Jessica clapped enthusiastically. “Wonderful! I’d sign up myself, but with Zant going, someone has to keep things together on Ilocan!”

  "Yes, excellent!" Calderon chimed in. "Please make certain to establish your first sales office on Santiago. Jessica and several of my advisors think that colonization may save my planet!"

  Jessica turned to Dee. “And what about you, dear? Are you part of this scheme, too?”

  Dee’s expression was haughty, but her red face betrayed her anger. “I was not invited or consulted!” she said huffily.

  All heads turned toward Cale, who flushed red.

  “I, uh, hadn’t really had the opportunity, uh,” he stammered. He paused, and then tried again. “Before this whole thing started, I offered Dee . . . uh . . . mistress Raum, passage to any planet within two jumps of Faith.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Uh, I had intended, uh, to renew that offer, in somewhat more private circumstances, and to expand it to ask if she would like to accompany me on a somewhat lengthy tour of unsettled planets of man-settled space.” He glared around at his audience. “Oh, all right! Dee, I was planning to do this later, in private. But would you consent to a cohabitation contract? Term or life, with or without progeny? The adventure wouldn’t be the same without you."

  Dee shook her head, and Cale's face fell. “I’ve been banished from my church and my planet,” she replied. “But my values are those of my home. I’m sorry, Cale, but I cannot accept any sort of cohabitation contract. I can accept only marriage. Real marriage, for life. With children. And if you ever call them ‘progeny’, well, I still have my blaster!”

  Cale leaped to his feet, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You mean it? Wife, life-mate, who cares what you call it?” He ran across to Dee, pulled her to her feet, and gathered her into his arms. At her smiling nod, He kissed her long and lingeringly until they were interrupted by Zant’s enthusiastic clapping.

  Blushing furiously, they stepped apart. Then Dee leaned forward a bit. “I’ll let you know if I ever find that planet,” she said quietly, “the one we want to live on forever.”

  THE END