by Andre Norton
Redline the Stars
( Solar Queen - 5 )
Andre Norton
P. M. Griffin
The first new Solar Queen novel in 23 years. This fast-paced adventure launches Captain Jellico and the crew of the Solar Queen--whose previous thrilling exploits include such sf classics as Postmarked the Stars and Sargasso of Space--on their most treacherous expedition yet.
Redline the Stars
Norton, Andre & Griffin, P.M.
Foreword
In 1954 the Solar Queen series was conceived in answer to a request from one of the first Sf-Fantasy genre publishers in the field—Gnome Press. Since I was then reading manuscripts for this firm, I used for the books the pen name Andrew North. The publisher wished to develop space adventure stories which were not akin to the then steady flow of militaristic plots.
Because I had long been interested in the historical importance of the merchant adventurers of our own world in the past I plotted the ventures of the Free Traders—in my mind linking them to our earlier trader explorers and the tramp freighters of present day—having traveled on one such "tramp" myself.
I tried to create a crew of diverse backgrounds and character and plunged them into various perils which might naturally arise from their way of life. Which was done for four books—Sargasso of Space, Plague Ship, Voodoo Planet, and Postmarked the Stars,
Ms. Griffin, creator of the justly well-ranked adventure series of Star Commandos, agreed with me that the Solar Queen and her crew might well swing back into orbit— with certain new additions—namely a feminine member for the crew. Thus the Solar Queen lifts again for some more fateful voyages.
—Andre Norton
1
"Space Wrack! 'Space Wreck' would've been a more accurate name!"
Dane Thorson shifted his tall frame to better view the speaker, taking care not to jostle Rip Shannon, who was standing beside him. The Solar Queen's mess had never been designed to hold the full complement of the starship's crew at one time, and when an assembly like this was called, the twelve of them had to scramble for space. "She's sound enough, Ali," he told the Engineer-apprentice quietly, "and she's paid us well up to this point."
"Precisely, my innocent, but now that the Queen's free of her mail contract, what in space or beyond it are we going to do with the Wrack? We won't find many buyers out here eager to snap her up—that's how we were able to get her in the first place—we can't keep flying both ships with half crews indefinitely, not if we ever intend to get back into real Trade again, and we certainly can't afford to hire enough hands to fill out the duty roster on the pair of them."
Their Medic, Craig Tau, nodded. "All's right about our not being able to keep on short-handed much longer. The strain's beginning to tell even now, and we've had no trouble yet to push either ship. It's time to cut, at a profit, and not wait for something real bad to happen."
Miceal Jellico, Captain of the So7or Queen, said nothing as he listened to his crew's discussion. His gray eyes swept the company. Seated with him at the table were the starship's senior officers: Jan Van Rycke, easily the best Cargo- Master in the ranks of the Free Traders and maybe in all Trade; the Mars-born Com-Tech Tang Ya; Steen Wilcox, the Queen's Astrogator; Chief Engineer Johan Stotz; Tau; and Cook-Steward Frank Mura. Standing above and around them were the three apprentices—Dane, who reported to Van Rycke; Rip, who worked under Wilcox; and Ali Kamil. With them, rounding out the roster, were the huge Karl Kosti and his slight, almost bleached-pale associate, Jasper Weeks, both, like Ali, from Stotz's department.
A good crew, the Captain thought somberly. He hoped he had not repaid their services by effectively ruining the lot of them on this one.
The gamble in buying the Space Wrack had paid off short-term. They had been able to grab the Trewsworld-Riginni run when it had opened up and had more than recouped their initial investment and expenses, but now it looked like they were not going to find disengaging from the commitment quite so simple.
Damn it to all the hells! The Solar Queen and her crew were Free Traders. They belonged in deep space, out ranging the starlanes, not perpetually hopping back and forth between two planets in the same solar system.
They did not belong on a simple mail run, either. They had been glad enough to take it in the need of the moment and had done better than might have been expected with it, but profits were small, and the work brought little satisfaction. It was time and past time for them to return to Trade as they knew it, with all its hardships and with the chimera of either fabulous fortune or sudden, maybe highly unpleasant death shimmering over every voyage. If they were forced to accept another long mail contract because they could not dispose of their sister ship, it could be the ruin of them as a crew, a team, but if the careful feelers he and Van Rycke were sending out failed to pull in a buyer, they would have no other option. Better that than be unable to meet their port fees and have to turn miners in order to keep body and soul together.
His spirits lightened abruptly when his attention shifted for a moment to the Cargo-Master. Van Rycke was not quite whistling, but there was a distinct air of triumph about him.
The big man felt his gaze and met it. His brows, white- blond like his thinning hair, lifted. "Something on your mind, Captain?"
"Just wondering about what's on yours. You look like you've just found a fistful of sunstones in a bag of salt."
The other chuckled. "Nothing quite that dramatic, but I might be able to add a bright line or two to our catalog of prospects."
"Spill it, then," Jellico snapped. Far be it from him to begrudge his friend the pleasure of dazzling them all with yet another of his miracles, but when the welfare of his ship was concerned, he preferred to be kept informed . . .
Van Rycke's eyes sparkled. "In due time. Captain." He sobered immediately. "We have a potential buyer for the Wrack."
"What! — Why in space . . ."
"She only contacted me a few minutes ago. I was on my way to tell you when you called assembly."
"What's the offer?" Miceal demanded. "And who's the buyer?" He could not recall any likely immediate prospects. Trewsworld's government was the most logical candidate, but the colony planet lacked the trained personnel to crew a starship, and hiring the needed people would be an expensive proposition. They were figuring on long and careful negotiations to convince the on-worlders of the eventual wisdom of such a move.
"None other than Rael Cofort, acting on behalf of her illustrious brother, of course."
If the Cargo-Master had been looking to provoke a reaction from his comrades, he succeeded admirably. Teague Cofort had made so many incredible strikes in what was not a terribly long career that he was a legend throughout Trade. When he moved on anything, it was inevitably with purpose.
Cofort enjoyed the luxury of choice in the charters he took on or even considered, and his interest in this was confirmation of the strong base the Queen had laid down here, coming in as she had at the very opening of regular commerce between the two planets of Trewsworld and Riginni, and, indeed, in initiating it. Whatever his reasons for wanting the freighter, the opportunity of picking up the local Trade operation was likely a good part of the draw. Ships like the Space Wrack were easily found on the star- lanes he usually traveled for those with the credits to pay for them. The Trader prince had no need to come this far out on the rim hunting one. Space, he could order one new from the shipyards!
Jellico's finger pensively rubbed the blaster scar that marred his right cheek. They would be going into the negotiations very much on the weaker side, but there would be no negotiations at all if Cofort did not need or seriously want the Wrack. He was no philanthropist and drove a good bargain for himself, but he
had a reputation for dealing fairly. There was no reason to expect less of his sister. If the Queen's representatives kept then" wits about them, they could come out of this with something to show over and above the gains they had already made.
No one spoke again for several seconds. Dane broke the silence. He had seen the famed Trader once but could not place the woman with whom they would be dealing. "I don't recall seeing anyone with Cofort at the Survey auction. Was she there?"
Tang Ya smiled. "If she had been, put credits down that you'd remember her."
Alt stirred. "Beautiful?"
Thorson frowned but immediately felt ashamed of his reaction. The Engineer-apprentice himself was strikingly handsome, to the extent that he almost seemed a caricature, the video stereotype of the daring star-roving hero.
Why shouldn't comeliness in others interest him? As for the rest, Kamil was not to blame that his appearance and the poise that accompanied it occasionally annoyed Dane, and no one could fault his competence or his courage when the need to display either arose.
The Com-Tech shrugged. "Beauty is common in the universe. She has that, but there's something unique about her, strange even. — No, she wasn't at the auction. Rael rarely accompanies her brother when he's conducting sur-planetary business. That's why none of you children has seen her yet."
"She does attend gem markets now and then," Jellico
informed them. His usually cold eyes laughed as they flickered to Van Rycke. The shot was deserved payment for the surprise he had been given.
The Cargo-Master growled and then sighed. "I had the misfortune of trying to do some business on a day when the pair of them were out buying," he informed the others. "I might as well have stayed home. Between Cofort's store of credits and her eye, nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—of real value remained that was anywhere near being in a Free Trader's price range."
"Why so many jewels?" Rip inquired curiously.
Van Rycke glanced up at his apprentice. "Answer him."
"Teague Cofort trades with powerful people on some highly developed planets and with fairly sophisticated, complex societies even on those less technically advanced.
He has to carry quality goods, not trinkets, or no one would bother coming to him."
"Precisely."
Thorson breathed an inner sigh of relief. Questions and testing were every apprentice's lot, part of the process that would eventually transform the dead material learned at Training Pool into the ingrained knowledge and experience of a Master. Still, he hated the feeling of being transported back to the classroom and hated more the chance that he might not respond correctly, embarrassing himself and letting his chief down. He realized with a touch of pride that it had been a compliment to him that the question had been put to him publicly. Van Rycke had expected an accurate reply.
"When did the Roving Star planet?" Wilcox inquired.
"She hasn't, nor have any of the other Cofort ships," Van Rycke told him. "Our encounter was brief, and I didn't get a chance to question our prospective customer about that mystery. Perhaps she'll be good enough to enlighten us when she comes aboard to discuss the Wrack."
"Which will be when?" the Captain asked.
"In a couple of hours. I wanted to give us some thinking time."
He sighed then, to himself. They had best use it well.
This was purely a buyer's market. They had to unload that freighter, and Rael Cofort would know that every bit as well as they did themselves.
Miceal was too accustomed to his brown Trade uniform to be much bothered by it even with all fastenings in place and the high, stiff dress collar squeezing his neck, especially not with so important a meeting as this to claim his attention.
He studied the woman who had seated herself opposite him and Van Rycke as closely as he could without making his scrutiny too obvious. Tang had been right in calling Rael Cofort attractive, and equally correct in saying there was something unique in her appearance. It was not easy to place her in one of the major Terran subraces or assign a planet of origin for her line. She had been space-born herself.
She was of about average height, slender, with the lithe, tightly controlled body of a veteran spacer. There was no accompanying tan, however, although her pallor was very different from Jasper Weeks's. That skin might never darken, but it was alive with a soft warmth of its own.
Her features were delicately formed, fragile looking, making the thickly lashed eyes appear impossibly large.
They were a subtle violet color that seemed to alter with every change of thought or mood.
The hair was tawny, golden like the coat of a Terran lion.
She kept it long, braided and fastened in a coronet to her head in the fashion adopted by most female space hounds.
Her hands, he saw as they shuffled through the contents of the slender safe-lock portfolio she carried, were long-fingered and beautifully formed. They were also very small. One of them would not have spanned Van Rycke's palm, or his own, for that matter.
She chose a document and held it out to them. "My authorization to act as agent for Teague Cofort of the Roving Star."
The Cargo-Master accepted the paper and read it, as was his right in a matter of Trade. "Dated this morning?"
She nodded. 'He fasmitted it when I informed him of the possible sale."
"We hadn't broadcast any interest in parting with the Space Wrack," he observed.
The young woman smiled and shrugged delicately.
"When I planeted, I prowled around, asked a few questions, and came up with some deductions. Teague told me to go for it if the deal was reasonable."
Van Rycke leaned back in his chair. "Ms. Cofort, I confess that I'm finding it a bit difficult to believe you were sent all the way to Trewsworld on the chance of finding a small freighter coming up for sale. Trade here isn't all that spectacular, and similar chances to latch onto a ship aren't all that uncommon even put here on the rim, much less in the inner systems you often frequent, not when there's a good supply of credits on hand to pay for her."
"I was not sent here, of course. I came on the Mermaid."
"The Mermaid lifted yesterday morning."
Her eyes flashed with the anger she otherwise chained.
"I didn't like the way Riff Slate ran his ship."
Van Rycke's brows raised. "He just let you go, or hadn't you formally signed on?"
"I'd signed. — He didn't dare try to hold me. He doesn't keep many hands for long." Her lips tightened in a hard, cold line. "Most Captains economize when business is lean, but not on the life-support and emergency systems.
An apprentice died during the voyage in an inconceivable outcome of an accident that should never have occurred and would not have occurred on any other vessel. To my mind, that death was nothing short of murder."
"You can't prove that?" Jellico asked sharply.
"No, and I wasn't vacuum-brained enough to spread my opinion around, either. I just muttered things about jinxed voyages, and Slate let me out of my contract before I scared the rest of his crew away or into making some move that might start a formal inquiry into the number of hands the Mermaid's shipped over the last few years. As it is, he has a lot of extremely unhappy people aboard."
"What did you think you'd do here once you were let loose?" Van Rycke inquired.
"Stay alive. That's a singulariy appealing idea even if one has to work as a planet hugger for a time to keep eating. I knew something would eventually come along."
Rael squared her shoulders. "If you are satisfied, perhaps we could discuss the Space Wrack instead of delving into my uninspiring history."
The Cargo-Master made a formal bow with his head.
"What are Cofort's terms?"
It would come down to that. Teague Cofort was merely willing to pick the ship up if he could conveniently do so. They would have to work with his terms or be prepared to reject them outright.
"We'll give what you initially paid for her."
"Plus ten per
cent for the work we put into her."
The woman shook her head. "Our price is fair. You've knocked at least that much out of her, and right now she's chaining you hands and feet. You won't do better, and if you wait, she'll wind up costing you besides in port expenses and maintenance."
"We've been carrying those costs. We have to get them back at the least, or we don't deal."
"I'd say you already have. This isn't a wildly rich charter, but it's solid and it's steady."
Van Rycke leaned back in his chair, as if closing the discussion. "I'm sorry, Ms. Cofort. We have to do better than break even. If it means we have to wait a bit and take on another mail run, so be it. The Space Wrack's a good ship, a fine one for her class. Buyers will eventually come for her."
She eyed him thoughtfully. "I have my brother's permission to trade for myself as well."
Van Rycke bent forward again. "We'll be happy to accommodate you in any way consistent with the Queen's welfare. What do you propose?"
"The expenses you mention in return for passage to Canuche of Halio, preferably a paid working passage. I could use a few extra credits, and I don't think you'll be sorry for my services. You'll be heading for there anyway," she added practically, "so I won't be putting you out."
"What makes you imagine that?"
"Canuche's the nearest planet where you'll have a reasonable chance of picking up a decent charter as well as be able to flesh out your stock of trade goods."
The Cargo-Master took the ID she withdrew from her portfolio. He looked sharply at her. "A Medic?"
Rael nodded. "Aye. Fully accredited."
Her fingers reached for the disk and closed over it. "I'm aware that you don't need an Assistant Medic aboard. No ship of the Queen's class does, or believes she does, unless the incumbent plans to retire in the near future and wants to train in his replacement. I'm working my way as a jack- of-all-trades."
"The Solar Queen is fully staffed," Jellico interjected. "I'm not about to let go any of my permanent crew."
