Starship

by Michael D. Resnick

  “He doesn't have any of you, sir.”

  “I've got half a trillion Men out for my scalp, and almost as many Teronis,” responded Cole. “One more enemy doesn't really make a hell of a lot of difference.” He looked at the controls. “How much longer?”

  “At this multiple of light, maybe six more hours,” announced Morales. “If I can find the wormhole Wxakgini told me exists just outside the Romeo system, maybe forty minutes.”

  “Look for it. I hate shuttle food.”

  Cole got up and began walking toward the back of the shuttle.

  “Is something wrong, sir?” asked Morales.

  “No sense both of us being bored,” replied Cole. “I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when we get there.”

  Morales tried to find the wormhole, but he lacked Wxakgini's skills, and it was six hours later that he woke Cole and announced that they were in orbit around New Madrid, had been cleared to land, and would be touching down in about five minutes.

  Cole stood up, stretched, and sent a message to the New Madrid branch of the Pilargo Company, asking for an appointment with whomever was in charge of the office. He refused to answer any questions, and merely said that it was a matter of major importance. When the reception robot was reluctant to make an appointment, he asked for the name and address of the largest rival insurance company on the planet. That got a human response, and by the time the ship had landed his meeting was confirmed.

  “Are you going to take the diamonds with you?” asked Morales, looking at the small case.

  “And have them taken away at gunpoint?” replied Cole with a smile. “Not a chance. We'll leave them right here.”

  “In the ship?”

  “I'd love to put them in a locker at the spaceport and just trade the combination for the cash, but they'd be crazy to make the deal before they knew the combination was valid—and once they knew it, we're back to the same scenario: they take the diamonds, hold a gun on me, and call the cops. At least this way we can make sure no one's armed before we let them aboard, and I get back to the ship in one piece.”

  “Do you think they'll go for it?”

  “To save a few million credits? Absolutely. They'll make sure they can identify the ship, and I'm sure you had to give its registration number when you got permission to land, but since it's not our ship and we're never going to see it again after tomorrow, we don't really care about that.”

  “How long should I wait, sir?” asked Morales. “In case something goes wrong?”

  “Well, let's see. I gather that once I clear Customs I should get to their office within five minutes. Give me two hours to negotiate. They're going to bluster and threaten and scream bloody murder before they give in. We'll give them another hour, tops, to get the money from their bank.” He paused, considering everything that could delay him. “If I'm not back in four Standard hours, I'll try to contact you and give you the order to take off.”

  “You'll try?”

  “If they decide to grill me, shall we say, forcefully, they'll probably remove my communicator.” And half my skin. He picked it off his belt, where it had been bonded, and laid it down. “Come to think of it, I'm better off without it. I don't want anyone to be able to home in on the signal, or send you a false message. After all, I'm just the negotiator; the treasure's right here on the ship. Just remember: wait four hours, and if I'm not back, take off.”

  “If I do, I'll be back tomorrow with the Teddy R.”

  “That's a command decision,” replied Cole, “and if I'm not there, Four Eyes will be the one to make it. Let's assume that these are all hypotheticals and that I'm going to be back in an hour or two loaded down with money.”

  Cole walked to the hatch, climbed down to the ground, and walked to Customs and Immigration. He used an ID that he'd picked up before disposing of the Achilles' crew members, and Sharon had altered it to match his voiceprint, thumbprint, and retinagram. It wouldn't pass muster on Deluros VIII or any of the more populated worlds of the Republic, but he was pretty sure he could get away with it out here, so close to the Inner Frontier. He knew that within a day or two—hopefully even longer—some computer somewhere would latch onto the fact that Sales Representative Roger Cowin and mutineer Wilson Cole had the same retinagram and looked an awful lot alike, but he felt he was safe for the next few hours, which was all he cared about.

  He caught public transportation to take him into the nearby city, then asked a glowing street sign how to find the Pilargo Company, waited while it printed out a holomap with audio instructions, and soon entered the insurance company's premises.

  There was a shining silver robot sitting at the reception desk.

  “May I help you?” it asked in lilting feminine tones.

  “My name is Roger Cowin,” said Cole. “I have an appointment with a Mr. Taniguchi.”

  “I will inform him that you are here.” The robot was motionless for some twenty seconds. “He will see you now. His office is at the end of the corridor on your left.”

  “Thank you,” said Cole, but the robot gave no indication that it had heard him. He walked down the corridor, came to the last office, and waited for the door to iris and let him pass through. He found himself confronting a heavyset man with thinning black hair and a goatee that was too neatly trimmed, that looked more like paint or makeup than hair.

  “Mr. Cowin?” said the man, rising and extending his hand.

  “That's right,” said Cole, taking and shaking it.

  “And I am Hector Taniguchi.”

  “I'm pleased to meet you.”

  “Our computer says that we have never had any dealings with you before, Mr. Cowin. You claim to be a sales representative, though you did not identify your company. I am wondering why you feel you have to speak to me personally, rather than our purchasing director.”

  “I think what I'm selling may be a little out of his bailiwick,” said Cole.

  “Oh?” said Taniguchi, trying unsuccessfully to hide his interest.

  “Yes. But first I wonder if you have a Neverlie Machine on the premises?”

  Taniguchi frowned. “Most major companies have one. It's not as sophisticated as the ones the police have, of course, but it's functional.”

  “Good. Before we begin, I'd like you to ask me two questions while the machine is monitoring my answers. Once you're convinced that I'm telling the truth, we can proceed with our business.”

  “You make this sound quite intriguing, Mr. Cowin,” said Taniguchi. “Have we any business to transact?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cole assured him. “We very definitely have business to transact.”

  Taniguchi summoned a subordinate and had Cole hooked up to the machine two minutes later.

  “What now, Mr. Cowin?”

  Cole took a small cube out of his pocket and handed it to Taniguchi. “Have your man leave us alone. Then put this in your computer. It contains two questions. I will answer only those and no others while I'm tied to the machine. If you ask me any other while the machine is monitoring me, I will walk out of this office and you will never see me again.”

  “Will that be such a terrible thing?” asked Taniguchi.

  “Lose your assistant, ask the questions, and then you can decide.”

  Taniguchi nodded to his subordinate, who silently left the room. Then he inserted the cube and read the questions, frowning as he did so.

  “Mr. Cowin,” said Tanaguchi, “have you ever been to Blantyre IV?”

  “No, I have not,” said Cole.

  “Did you steal four hundred and sixteen uncut diamonds from Blantyre IV, or kill anyone who worked for the mining company there?”

  “No, I did not,” said Cole. He paused. “What does the machine say?”

  “That you're telling the truth.”

  “Okay. Unhook me.”

  “I'd like to know if—”

  “If you finish that question while I'm still tied to the machine, I'm leaving,” said Cole. I hope that sounds convincing. You're pro
bably the only guy alive who'll pay me more than five percent. I'd never walk out, but hopefully you won't figure that out too soon.

  Taniguchi disconnected Cole from the machine and deactivated it. “All right, Mr. Cowin—so you didn't kill any miners or steal any diamonds. There are doubtless trillions of men who can make that same statement.”

  Cole pulled another cube out of his pocket. “But they don't have your four hundred diamonds, and I do. Put that in your computer, and have any expert in this complex examine it.”

  Taniguchi called in another man, handed him the cube, and said, “Find out where these are from.”

  The man left with the cube, and Taniguchi sat down again, facing Cole.

  “How did you come by them?” he asked.

  “I'm a treasure hunter,” said Cole. “My profession is retrieving lost articles.”

  “These weren't lost,” replied Taniguchi. “They were stolen, and a number of men were murdered in the process.”

  “That's not my concern,” answered Cole. “You know I didn't steal them or kill your miners.” You at least know I didn't steal them on Blantyre; let's hope you don't notice the subtle difference.

  “Where are they now?”

  “In a safe place.”

  The door irised and the man with the cube stepped through.

  “Well?” asked Taniguchi.

  “Definitely from Blantyre IV,” said the man.

  “Is there any possibility that you could be mistaken?”

  The man shook his head. “The computer says no other diamond has that exact color at the center of it.”

  “Thank you,” said Taniguchi, dismissing him. “Well, Mr. Cowin,” he said when he and Cole were alone, “what is your proposition?”

  “My information is that everything on Blantyre IV, or everything shipped from Blantyre IV, is insured for ninety percent of market value. Now, I think market value on these diamonds—there are six missing; all the rest are there—should be about thirteen million credits, but I'm willing to be shown that I'm wrong.” Suddenly he smiled. “I may even have undervalued them.”

  “That's more than double what they're worth,” said Taniguchi.

  “If you're going to lie that blatantly, I'll just put my own value on them and stick with it,” said Cole.

  “If you think I'm going to pay you thirteen million credits…” began Taniguchi heatedly.

  “Of course not. I'm a businessman, not a thief. I just want a finder's fee.”

  “All right. Name a price.”

  “I'm going to ask you one more time before I do,” said Cole. “How much are these things worth on the open market?”

  “We would have to examine each stone separately to determine its value.”

  “Since you've yet to see a stone, how do you know the amount you have to pay on the insurance claim?”

  “I'm not at liberty to discuss our methods with you, sir,” said Taniguchi.

  “Fine,” said Cole. “Then I will arbitrarily declare their value to be twelve million credits. They're insured for ninety percent. Even if you hedge and finagle and talk them down to ten million market value, you're still going to be out nine million credits. Do you agree?”

  Taniguchi merely glared at him.

  “Well, you don't disagree, so clearly we're making progress. Mr. Taniguchi, I am prepared to save the Pilargo Company six million credits. If you will pay me three million in cash, I will turn over the diamonds to you before I leave the planet, which I will do this afternoon with or without reaching an agreement with you.”

  “Three million?” snapped Taniguchi. “That's outrageous!”

  “No, sir,” said Cole. “That's business.”

  “We won't pay it.”

  “That's your privilege,” said Cole, getting up and walking slowly toward the door.

  “Wait!” said Taniguchi.

  Cole turned and stared at him.

  “Two million,” said Taniguchi.

  Cole resisted an urge to smile. You blinked. Now it's all over but the shouting.

  “This isn't a negotiation,” answered Cole. “I asked you to give me a value before, and you refused. Now my price is three million. You can pay it and save your company six million credits, or you can refuse to pay it, in which case I will walk out of your office right now, and you will never see me again. You will have to pay nine million credits, and probably more, to settle the claim, and your head office will be informed that you were given the opportunity to pay a finder's fee for the diamonds and refused.”

  Taniguchi was silent for a long moment, then spoke: “Three million, you say?”

  “That's right. In cash.”

  “It will take half an hour to get it.”

  “That's fine. In the meantime, I'll want a written and holographed pledge from the Pilargo Company not to harass or prosecute me for any reason whatsoever.”

  “You never mentioned that.”

  “I'm mentioning it now,” said Cole. “Look, you know I didn't rob the mine or kill the miners. If the police hook me up to another Neverlie Machine, it'll say the same thing. Do you really want to look like a fool for the home office?”

  Taniguchi considered what Cole said, and finally nodded his assent. “I agree to your conditions. Now where are the diamonds?”

  “I'll give them to you when I get my hands on the money.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Why should I lie? I assume that you'll have weapons trained on me from the second I get the money until the second you get your diamonds. I'm mercenary and avaracious, not suicidal.”

  “Wait in the reception area,” said Taniguchi. “I'll let you know when the money arrives.”

  “Fine,” said Cole, walking the rest of the way to the door, which sensed his approach and let him pass through.

  Taniguchi delivered the money some twenty-four minutes later, and Cole led a procession of executives and armed security guards to the spaceport. He allowed Taniguchi and one security man aboard the ship after making sure their weapons had been removed, had Morales turn over the diamonds, and took off before anyone from Pilargo could contact the spaceport authorities and detain them.

  “By God, this is going to be easy!” said Cole as they hit light speeds.

  “I was worried, sir,” said Morales. “I know it sounded good when you talked about it, but you were still walking in cold and demanding millions of credits.”

  “They didn't have any choice.”

  “You sure don't run the pirate business the way Captain Windsail did, sir,” said Morales. “I'm glad I joined the Teddy R.”

  “Your Captain Windsail never understood that the reward has to be commensurate with the effort,” said Cole. “He'd risk his crew's lives, he'd risk his ship, and then his profit margin barely paid for his fuel and his ammunition. Dumb way to run any business—especially the pirate business.”

  “I know,” said Morales. “But when I was alone in the ship waiting for you, I kept worrying that something had gone wrong.”

  “If you plan it properly, not much can go wrong,” answered Cole confidently.

  He was right in principle, but he was about to find out just how wrong he could be in practice.

  “Three million!” exclaimed Sharon Blacksmith as she, Cole, and Forrice stood together in the science lab. “I've never seen as much as ten thousand in a single lump before!” She ran her hands over the neat stacks of thousand-credit notes. “Isn't it beautiful!”

  “And you had no trouble at all?” put in Forrice.

  “No more than expected,” said Cole. “He screamed, he threatened, he held his breath until he turned blue—and then he gave in and saved his company six million credits. Probably more. I like my original estimate of thirteen million better than ten.”

  “Why didn't you stick to it, then?” asked Forrice.

  “Get me an ID that can stand up to close scrutiny and I will,” said Cole. “My guess is that by now the Navy knows I was on New Madrid.”

&n
bsp; “What we really need is a mole who can get into the Master Computer on Deluros VIII,” said Sharon. “Someone who can put someone else's prints and retinagram together with your name, and yours with some other identity.”

  “Why don't you wish for a million credits while you're at it?” said Cole.

  “Why bother?” she replied with a smile. “You've already given me three million.”

  “Believe it or not, that's not all for you,” said Cole. “We've got a ship to run and a crew to pay.”

  “No one's bitching,” said Sharon. “Yet.”

  “We don't have anything to spend it on anyway,” added Forrice. “We're going to need shore leave pretty soon.”

  “Talk to Morales and find out what shores are hospitable to us,” replied Cole. “We're going to need to refresh the nuclear pile one of these days. We might as well do it on a friendly world.”

  “I'll go talk to him now,” said the Molarian.

  “Talk to him whenever you want, but we're dumping the jewelry first,” said Cole.

  “Three million credits isn't enough?” demanded Forrice. “We have to have more before we can drink stimulants and hunt up lady Molarians in season?”

  “With the money we get for the jewelry I want to buy a small ship,” replied Cole. “The closest we came to real trouble was renting the one I used. They're going to scrutinize us a lot more closely when we're renting a ship that's worth hundreds of thousands than when I show up on a planet with nothing in my hands.”

  “You know, I just hate it when you make sense,” muttered the Molarian.

  “While I'm thinking about it,” continued Cole, “has Christine found out who insured the jewelry yet?”

  “I haven't asked her,” said Sharon.

  “Nor have I,” said Forrice. “It didn't seem vital when you were hundreds of light-years away dumping the diamonds.”

  “Well, find out for me while I go grab some lunch,” said Cole. “Have we got any further business here?”

  “None,” said Forrice, heading for the airlift.