Redline the Stars sq-5

by Andre Norton

  burners someplace.

  The woman frowned but kept rein on her temper. "No,

  I haven't been on the loose that long. The bulk of my former

  earnings as well as my inheritance from my father are hatching in the Star's account. Teague -wouldn't release

  them."

  "What?"

  For the first time, she gave him a genuine smile. "He's Redlinelhe Stars 159

  not a villain of the starlanes. Everything's sitting quite properly in a trust. My brother's not using it. He can't. He's just holding it until I latch onto a permanent berth."

  "You're out of your minority."

  "I know, but those are the terms of the trust. Besides, there isn't that much involved. We Coforts pour most of our shares of everything back into our ships." Her head rose. "You don't think we got where we are without considerable dedication and sacrifice, do you?"

  "No. Cofort and his crews are known for that, but . . ."

  "But nothing. I wanted to make it on my own, and I'd be begging to be back-alleyed if I went wandering around the starlanes with too impressive a roll. It's worked out. I haven't starved even if I haven't managed to prove myself the greatest phenomenon to bless Trade in this century."

  The woman laughed softly, ruefully. "I suppose I was sort of cherishing that hope, but you can probably imagine how fast I had to flush it down the disposal tubes."

  Dane chuckled despite himself. "You may do it yet," he told her as he sighed inwardly. She had managed it again, he thought, turned the discussion completely away from questions uncomfortable to herself. He was not surprised, at least. Rael Cofort had proven remarkably adept at doing that since she had first brought herself to the attention of the crew of the Solar Queen. Only time would show whether or not she was using that skill to cover some sort of bad surprise she had planned for the lot of them.

  17

  The three apprentices, Jasper, and Rael were at the table when Jellico and Van Rycke strode into the mess the following morning. The Medic had Sinbad on her lap, cradled against her left arm. He was eating daintily from her other hand, which she held cupped before him.

  "I thought he was beginning to look a little rotund,"

  Miceal remarked.

  Rael glanced up. "He's a hero again, fortunately an unwounded one this time. Someone," she added pointedly,

  "was careless about reattaching the nets properly when he returned to the ship last night"

  "Ouch," muttered the Cargo-Master.

  Weeks put down his fork. "Any good leads?" He had been with the Solar Queen a long time, and he knew full i well that these two would not have been abroad in the wee I hours merely to sample the kind of delights Happy City had to offer.

  Van Rycke's eyes danced like Terra's sky on a sunny day. "A charter, my friends, a nice, fat, easy charter that'll completely fill our bulk cargo holds."

  "What're we carrying and to what port?" Dane asked

  eagerly.

  "Equipment and chemicals to the dome mines on Riginni."

  He held up his hands when the faces of the four men at the table fell. "I'm not overjoyed, either, at the thought of revisiting her again so soon, but it's a good run, and there could be at least a couple of others like it if we move fast

  enough."

  He lowered his large frame into the chair nearest him.

  "We encountered one Adroo Macgregory, who is founder, president, chairman of the board, and just about High King of Caledonia, Inc. That's the biggest conglomerate on Canuche. He'd already realized there was a fine market for his products in those new mines and had personally arranged via transceiver a large sale of everything from digging and crushing equipment to construction materials to chemicals of various sorts. He's eager to move fast, before some competitor can edge him out. There's no time to buy or license a freighter long-term, so he was planning to utilize several of those currently in port for his initial few runs. After witnessing the stampede Rael started in the market yesterday, though, Macgregory decided to give the Queen a shot at the whole charter, on condition that we're

  Redllne the Stars 163

  prepared to accept delivery and lift within the next couple of days. We carry through on that, and we'll get the work as long as we're willing to take it and he's still hiring independents, which he does warn won't go on forever."

  He fixed the woman with a wicked grin. "Our agreement's only verbal as yet. He won't actually seal it until he has our Doctor Cofort present as well."

  Seeing the mischief on the pair, Rael merely arched her brows. "Now that's a remarkable display of pure democracy!" she declared. "Imagine wanting not only the Solar Queen's most exalted officers but also a lowly unskilled hand to officiate at so important a transaction!"

  Jellico chuckled. "Actually, Macgregory wants to make a change in your employment status. He intends to offer you a place in his sales organization." "He what?" she asked, simultaneously trying unsuccessfully to silence her companions' laughter with an impatient wave of her hand.

  "That's absolutely correct," the Cargo-Master affirmed.

  "He claims that anyone capable of bringing two of his staid close competitors to the brink of fisticuffs—his word—by the mere act of waving a piece of cloth around in the air a few times could do good work in advancing the cause of Caledonia, Inc. — Seriously, Rael, he recognizes precisely what you did and promises that if you're willing and show both ability and industry, you've got an excellent future with his company."

  "Why tell my superiors that he plans to bid for my services?" she inquired bluntly.

  "He wants to avoid acquiring a reputation of being an underhanded dealer and scaring off potential interstellar

  1

  customers. Besides," Jellico added, "he probably doesn't think he's got much real chance of luring you away from us. Space hounds just don't like quitting the starianes,

  however good the offer."

  "Not for a planet like Canuche of Halio, at any rate," she agreed firmly and with considerable feeling. "When're we

  meeting with him?"

  "Noon. He's buying us lunch in one of Canuche Town's most exclusive restaurants, the Twenty-Two, down by the waterfront, so don't do too good a job on those syntheggs

  and sausage."

  "No fear of that. I loaded up for Sinbad's sake, not mine." Ali leaned against the padded backrest of the bench enclosing the table on three sides. "Now that that's settled," he drawled, "there remains a possibly intriguing tale to be told. No one made any mention of 'fisticuffs' yesterday."

  "We'd left by then," the Captain told him. "We met Deke Tatarcoff on our way back to the Queen, and he confirmed that there was not one but several near battles before the

  Thornen silk found a home."

  "He was one happy man," Van Rycke said as he picked up the story. "He got absolute top price for the bolt and then sold the little examination length for very nearly the same sum. Everything else went as well, albeit at a more reasonable price. He claimed all he's got left are a couple of scraps of lint and declared that if he'd found them in time, he'd probably have moved those as well."

  Jellico placed the small delicate-cargo box he had been carrying on the table and reverently lifted two bottles out;

  Redline Ihe Stars 165

  of it. "From Tatarcoffs private stock. — You're the one who earned them, Rael. You decide their fate."

  The woman eyed the labels. Wine. Hedon vintage, golden white, dry, and the vineyard was good enough that she recognized the name. They would have no trouble trading this if they chose.

  She shook her head. No. Deke was a connoisseur of wine. His personal supply was legendary, and he maintained it strictly for his own pleasure, not for sale or barter. These bottles had been given in that spirit, and she felt they should be used accordingly. "We're worth an occasional luxury. We'll turn them over to Frank and see what he can produce to accompany them. He should enjoy that challenge, especially here on-world where he can get his hands on fresh produc
e."

  18

  Rael smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her tunic.

  Dress uniforms did that to one, she thought. With their high collars and stark, dramatic styling, they tended to render the victim wearing one acutely conscious of his potential for imperfection. Maybe that was even a subtle part of their purpose. A little uncertainty went far in keeping a person alert ...

  She glanced at her companion. Miceal Jellico, too, was encased in his formal uniform, but if he felt discomfort or a sense of confinement, he was far too practiced to give any sign of it.

  Van Rycke, walking a few paces ahead, was, perhaps, the more striking figure with his greater height and bulk comprised of rippling muscle, but she found Jellico more impressive. Lean, wiry, with the feline grace a lifetime in space had bequeathed to him, bearing the aura of an authority that carried not merely the welfare but the very lives of others, he looked the part of the master of a starship plying the perilous lanes on the rim. The hard features, the blaster-bumed cheek, the eyes like tempered titanone served only to emphasize that role.

  Her eyes swept the constantly shifting lunchtime crowd.

  Their host had instructed the Free Traders to come to the lobby of this, the tallest building in Canuche Town, promising to meet them here and escort them to the exclusive restaurant at its summit.

  The men with her raised their hands suddenly in recognition and greeting, and she studied closely the individual who returned the gesture.

  Adroo Macgregory was like Miceal, she judged at once.

  He was older, with more white in his hair than dark. His eyes were a deep blue, his face rounder and fuller, but the two were of one breed. Space hound or planet hugger, she recognized that strength and independence of spirit. This one would not lightly bargain his soul or his season's profits away.

  The Canuchean made his way through the throng to join their party. He immediately put out his hand in the ancient Terran greeting universally recognized wherever the mother world's seed had taken root. "Right on time. It's good to see you again, Captain Jellico, Mr. Van Rycke."

  "We're pleased to see you as well, Mr. Macgregory," the former replied. He motioned the Medic to step forward.

  "This is Doctor Rael Cofort."

  The man inclined his head in an old-fashioned bow. His eyes sparkled even as they seemed to penetrate her to her very soul. "You're lovely for a fact. Doctor Cofort, but mortal like the rest of us, I'm relieved to see. I'd be a bit uncomfortable trying to deal with a vision."

  Her smile broadened. "You'd manage all the same if it was good for business."

  Macgregory laughed. "I would indeed. Doctor."

  Their host ushered the off-worlders toward a roped-off lift platform. As he passed the uniformed gatekeeper he said, "We have a reservation for four," unnecessarily, apparently, for the woman began to raise the barrier as soon as she saw him.

  Other groups were boarding as well, chiefly pairs with a • couple of threesomes thrown in. All fell silent as they stepped onto the platform, even as Adroo did. None were mere pleasure parties, and these close quarters lacked the privacy for the kind of top-level business discussions in which they intended to engage.

  As soon as it was fully loaded, the lift started to rise. Rael leaned against the sturdy guardrail and peered over the edge to watch the teeming lobby recede as floor after floor flashed by. Soon, the crowd below appeared to be no more than a sea of animated miniature toys.

  Because the lift was an express, free of any call to slow or pause in its ascent, it rose with a speed that almost crossed the threshold of comfort. Its motion was perfectly smooth, however, and it would take more than a peaceful rise like this to disturb the three spacers.

  Only seconds after it had begun to move, the platform began to slow into a gentle stop that brought it flush with the floor of the Twenty-Two's reception area. The off- worlders stepped from it to find themselves on the stable hub of a broad, very slowly revolving disk on which were set a large number of tables, some near the core or in the center of the moving area, some right by the outer rim.

  They were not surprised by the arrangement; it was a very old one that remained popular for the simple reason that it was so effective. People loved to dine in such a setting wherever there was height and a view of sufficient interest and beauty to warrant the construction of such a facility.

  This establishment made particularly good use of the design, Mfeeal had to admit. In place of the usual flat roof and tall, broad window panels, the entire restaurant was enclosed in a huge glassteel dome, inches thick in fact but so transparent as to seem not to be there at all. It must be truly spectacular here on a clear night, he thought, with the stars and Canuche's two tiny moons shining above, mirrored below by the lights of the populous town and the harbor. By day, much of that splendor was absent, for the high, steep slopes rising sharply on either side of the narrow bay restricted the view to the uninspiring community flowing up from the industrial belt at the water's edge to pour over the crests into the invisible regions beyond. The harbor itself saved the situation as far as he was concerned. The building was not so terribly high as to destroy the detail of the scene below, and the ever-busy port offered a wealth of activity to catch and hold an observer's attention.

  A formally suited individual approached their party.

  "My usual table's on the outside," Adroo whispered, "but if that'll bother you, we'll change. You're here to enjoy a damn good meal, not to have your palates blunted by the peculiarities of the place."

  Even as he spoke, his guests saw what he meant. The restaurant extended beyond the walls that confined the lower portions of the building, and the part of the floor that comprised the overhang was constructed of the same marvelously strong, clear material that fashioned the dome enclosing them. The tables placed there seemed to be standing on the air itself.

  Jellico could bolt down food just about anywhere, but when a real feast was put before him he preferred to devote his attention to it and not be distracted by theatrics or dramatic surroundings, however attractive or interesting. Rael's delight, on the other hand, was open for once, and he offered no protest. "We're not likely to be eating in the Twenty-Two anytime soon again," he said. "Let's go for the full experience."

  They were soon seated in comfortably upholstered chairs drawn up around a white-covered table. Water was immediately set before them, and they were given hot, moist towels for their hands.

  The newcomers were conscious not so much of unease as of a sense of disorientation at first. The floor felt solid beneath their feet, but so clear was the glassteel that any downward glance seemed to make a lie of both touch and knowledge. For a time, all three off-worlders kept their eyes carefully fixed on their plates until the fascination of the scene revealed below outstripped the instinct to flight, and they began at last to enjoy the strange perspective and the array of activity it revealed.

  It was just this experience that moved most people to make their first visit to the Twenty-Two, and they were left in peace to savor it. Their waiter discreetly watched until the four began at last to look about for him. At that point, he approached their table.

  "Will there be any change from our meat entree? We also offer fowl, waterfood, or vegetables," he added for the benefit of the spacers, who were quick to declare that they would be delighted to have the house meal.

  "What has Max put together for us today, Charles?"

  Adroo inquired after giving his own assent.

  The man smiled expansively. "Just about heaven, Mr. Macgregory. Broiled round of rambeef, black and white pasta balls with gravy, and young sweet sil pods in white sauce. The after-sweet is a fourteen-layer cream torte." No pre-entree courses were served on Canuche and no beverages save water during the meal itself so that nothing might dull or alter the taste of the main course. Dessert was always followed by either jakek or coffee.

  "It sounds good, Charles. Thanks."

  Once the waiter had gone, Macgregory drew an official-l
ooking multicopy document from the portfolio he was carrying. "My lawyers drew this up for me last night. I've already signed and sealed it, so all that's needed to activate it are your signatures."

  Van Rycke took it and read it over carefully. He nodded his agreement. "It covers everything we discussed," he said as he affixed his signature. He passed it to Jellico, who signed as well. He took the Queen's copy, which he folded and slipped into the document pouch on his belt; the other he returned to the industrialist. "Thank you, Mr, Macgregory."

  "My pleasure," Macgregory responded with satisfaction.

  He fixed his attention on Rael. "Now that I can't be accused of holding that contract over your head, I believe we have something to discuss. Doctor Cofort. — Your Captain did tell you of my offer, I presume?"

  "He did," she replied, "or told me of its nature, rather.

  He gave me no details."

  "Those are for us to work out if you're interested in pursuing the matter. It would entail no small change for

  you, and I expect you'll have to give it some pretty deep thought."

  She smiled. "Deeper than you imagine, Mr. Macgregory. I didn't simply choose or fall into a career in space, you see. I was born on a Free Trader. The stars are in my blood. It'd go against everything I am to try to settle on any one world."

  "Think about it all the same. I won't press you for an immediate decision—I wouldn't trust the judgment of anyone who'd give me one now under these circumstances— but a drastic change can work out well for a person. I had a bad case of wanderlust in my youth, and I've never been sorry for settling down and going into business."

  The woman nodded slowly. "All right, Mr. Macgregory.

  I will give the possibility serious consideration, but I can't honestly see myself pursuing it. Even if I were willing to quit the starlanes, I'm still a Medic. I don't want to give that up to spend my life selling, whatever the product." Rael eyed him pensively. "Would you mind answering a question, Mr. Macgregory?"

  "Probably not. If I do, I'll tell you when I hear it."