by Allen Wold
Tarantor
Of seven planets in the Tarantor system, six were developed to some degree. The only world without sentient inhabitants was Vista, the outermost ice world, which, besides being permanently frozen, had no resources not more easily obtainable elsewhere.
The whole system was densely populated: Earth-like Tarantor, desert Mishka, hothouse Merteth, and the moons of Galagos and Vermain, the gas giants. Even Trilipi, hot and close to the sun, had domes and an underground system.
Unlike most planetary systems in the Federation, Tarantor was not dominated by a single species, but was shared almost equally by three. Experiments of bi- and multispecies worlds had been conducted in the past, as on Kohltri, Venn, Seber Tsrebe, and Lothar, and none of them had worked. No such experiment had been tried on Tarantor; it had just happened.
There were Humans, of course, as there were almost everywhere, except on those worlds that were the homes of nonspacefaring peoples. They represented about a third of the population, and were a variety of subspecies or races. They dominated on Tarantor itself and on Merteth, and existed in lesser numbers on the other four developed worlds.
The second species of importance were the Senola, whose home world was Natimarie, but who extended throughout much of the Federation as well. They were a centauroid people, with slender but deep-chested lower bodies and narrow upper torsos. Their four legs were long and slender, though they stood no taller than an average Human. Their faces were narrow and long, with small batlike ears and very large purple, almost red eyes. Their arms were long enough to reach the ground when they stood, and their feet were doubly cloven hooves. Their skins were ivory-colored, shading to ocher, hairless except for full manes of dark, rich brown hair. They dominated Mishka and the moons of Galagos, and were second on Merteth, and in fewer numbers elsewhere.
The third species was the Grelsh. These were pseudo-humanoid arthropoids whose exoskeletons were reduced to external "bones." Otherwise they had a hard "skin" of a semiglossy light brown. They had four legs in pairs set very closely together, and were functionally bipedal. They had only two arms but each had an extra joint. Their hands were composed of two central thumbs and two pairs of opposing fingers. Their faces were round and flat, with a mouth like that of a grasshopper, four small eyes, and no feelers or visible ears. They dominated where the Humans and the Senola didn't, though they shared the other worlds with them too.
Thus, when Rikard, Endark Droagn, and Grayshard arrived at the jumpslot station, they were met by these three equally important species, who held posts in all positions and levels. Other species were definitely in the minority, and yet nobody seemed to take any special notice of either Grayshard or Droagn, as they passed through first immigration.
Rikard had been hoping to take his own ship to Tarantor itself, but this was not permitted. He put his ship in dock, gave the crew leave, and with his companions and equipment boarded the shuttle. This was a huge, free-form vessel, almost like a space-going city. The reason for this became apparent when, an hour or so after leaving the jumpslot station, Rikard learned that the trip would take two standard days. He tried not to be impatient with the delay. But at last they parked at the main orbital station—there were three others of nearly equal size—and then had to go through an immigration inspection again.
They did nor have Gawin's protection, as they had on Malvrone, and this time their luggage was examined. They were politely but firmly informed that a number of the items they had with them would be put into safekeeping for them pending their departure. As this was not a place where threats, connections, or bribery could accomplish anything more than further hassle and possibly criminal prosecution, Rikard had to put up with it. Most of the items—tools of various sorts, surveillance equipment, and the weapons—he didn't mind doing without. He did feel rather naked without his megatron, leathers, and meshmail armor, but since they could have been confiscated instead of just locked away, he felt it wise not to argue.
And one other thing surprised him. They also took the dragongem he wore on a chain around his neck, and the bauble he carried in his pocket. The agent recognized them at once, and knew very well how to handle them without falling under their hypnotic spell. A license, he explained, was needed to import such items, and a heavy duty was exacted, and since these were purportedly personal jewelry, it would be easier just to leave them here until Rikard's departure. Once again, Rikard thought it better not to argue. From the station they took a drop-shuttle to the surface. It was a relatively small craft, carrying only three thousand passengers. Their destination was the Alanorn sector of the city that covered that whole quarter of the continent, where megatowers crowded the shore of a huge lake. The shuttle came down silently on gravity floats, and landed at a subport nestled among the three-kilometer tall towers.
Once again they had to pass an inspection, but this one was to ensure that they had sufficient credit to cover their visit. Rikard, fortunately, had a number of open accounts on a number of planets—plus, of course, some private, closed, or secret accounts on many more—and thus was given an unrestricted pass. Others with fewer resources or wealth were given limited tickets, after which time they either had to depart or initiate immigration proceedings, which latter were difficult unless you had something the sector, the city, or the planet wanted. One or two people were turned back at the port, as Droagn and Grayshard would have been had not Rikard guaranteed their credit for the duration of the visit.
They went by aircar to the hotel that the Tarantor Tourist Bureau recommended to them, in light of Droagn's and Grayshard's special needs. This proved to be not a separate building, but merely one section of one wing of one of the taller towers—nearly five kilometers high—near the center of the Alanorn sector, and right on the edge of the lake. The aircar deposited them and their luggage on a balcony halfway up, where they were taken charge of by the hotel staff, mostly mechanicals under a Senola supervisor.
Neither Grayshard nor Droagn caused any stir. The hotel was very modern, rather overequipped with electromechanicals but with a good number of live staff of all three major species, and their quarters were large and spacious and well stocked. Rikard found it rather impersonal and depressing. Droagn was glad for the room to move and the lack of attention. Grayshard didn't care.
There was nothing Rikard could do to guarantee the security of his quarters this time, but given the procedure he'd just gone through, and considering there was nothing he could do about it anyway, he had to trust that in fact he was not being scanned, recorded, or otherwise spied on. As soon as the three of them were established, and had a good night's rest, Rikard looked up Nevile Beneking in the sector directory. He was there, in bold face, with a cross-reference to his entry in the classified directory. Rikard called up that screen, and found that the art dealer had a discreet ad that took up the whole screen, simply name, profession, comcon number and address, and office hours. Rikard punched the call button.
The screen blinked. For a moment a simple cartouche bearing only the name Nevile Beneking appeared on the screen, and then a Human face. Rikard wondered if, had he been a Senola or a Grelsh, he would have been greeted by one of his own species.
"May I help you?" the young man said. His inflection was perfect, helpful yet not to be trifled with.
"My name is Rikard Braeth. I'd like to make an appointment with Msr. Beneking."
"Certainly, Msr. Braeth. Msr. Beneking is on Tarantor at this time and is expecting you. When would be most convenient?"
"How about right now?"
The young man smiled. "We will be awaiting your arrival," he said. Then his image was replaced by the cartouche for a moment, then the screen went blank.
They took a small case, containing the few things they'd liberated from the cyclopean museum, and the disks from Rikard's recording helmet, with them to "Beneking's" offices, which were in another tower, some ten kilometers from their hotel. Transportation was by underground tube, by private car. The trip took five m
inutes. Then it was another three minutes by elevator.
Nevile Beneking, as the business was known, occupied the entire floor at the two-and-a-half-kilometer level, except for the outlying wings, which were given over to publie services of various sorts. The reception area, off the elevator, was spacious but simple, with comfortable couches, low tables, a self-service bar in one corner, and a trio of live receptionists at a broad desk. As Rikard and his companions approached, the Grelsh and Senola subtly turned away so that he was, without any effort, directed to the Human, a handsome woman of middle age, say one hundred ten or so.
"Msr. Braeth," she said. "Msr. Droagn. Msr. Grayshard." She smiled as she stood and came around the desk. "Please come with me." She gestured to a doorway behind and to one side of the desk.
They went through into a short, wide corridor, with a door on either side and a double door at the far end. This the receptionist opened by hand when they got to it and waved them through.
The office on the other side was cozy by the standards Rikard had observed so far since coming to Tarantor, no more than twenty by twenty meters. There was a large black desk in front of another door, two comfortable chairs in front of it, a couch facing it behind the chairs, and lots of art on the walls, sculpture on pedestals, and his uncle Gawin just rising to meet them.
"Rikard," Gawin said as he came around the desk. "How are you?" His smile was warm and genuine. He shook hands with all three of them. "Please make yourselves comfortable." He gestured to the chairs, and did something at the arm of the couch so that it folded out into the kind of cushion Droagn preferred.
They sat. He offered refreshments, which they accepted. "So how was your trip?" he asked them as a Senola came in, pushing a small cart.
"It takes a hell of a long time to get here from your jumpslot station," Rikard said. The Senola served Rikard a whisky on the rocks, Grayshard some kind of ugly ferment in a closed container, and Droagn a huge mug of what looked like fresh-squeezed juice.
"It does that," Gawin said, "but I mean, how was Tsikashka?"
Rikard took a sip of his drink, put down the glass, and lifted his case up to his lap. He opened it and turned it around so Gawin could see inside. "This is all we were able to bring back."
Gawin looked at the few items without touching them, and the good humor faded from his face. He looked back up at Rikard. "What went wrong?"
"Karyl Toerson was there, and she had the locals and the Feds on her side."
Gawin stared at Rikard for a moment. "But how could that be?"
"I don't know, but there it is and the Federal agent she had doing her work for her didn't seem to like it, but I guess he didn't have any choice. Just what kind of influence does she wield, anyway?"
"Apparently a lot more than I had thought," Gawin said. "And considering that I thought she was dead just a short while ago, it doesn't bode well for any of us. And what's worse, if what you have there in the case is all you were able to get away with, then it's all we're likely to see. Toerson has been selling to the black market, to people who keep their stuff to themselves. And before I lost track of her she had a reputation of taking only the best and destroying the rest to improve the value of what she took. I don't think she's likely to change that now."
"What do you mean," Rikard demanded, "'destroying the rest'?"
"Just what I said. She'll pick out about ten percent of whatever is most likely to sell for the best prices, not necessarily the best art or the most important, and then she'll smash, or burn, or otherwise ruin everything else. If you have ten Van Eyck's at a million apiece, that's one thing. If there's only one, it's worth more than ten million, and is a lot easier to carry around."
"My God, you don't mean it!"
"I do."
"But there was an awful lot of stuff down there."
"You're using the correct tense, I'm afraid. I wish there were something we could do about it, but as far as I know there isn't."
"You seem to know a lot about her," Gray shard said.
"What I know," Gawin said reluctantly, "was from a long time ago. I haven't seen her for maybe forty years."
Rikard took a longer pull at his drink. "So what about this stuff?"
"The people I dealt with before," Gawin said, "are eager for more, and they've been doing some research on their own as to its origins, although I haven't heard that they've uncovered anything."
"Well, get them over to Tsikashka as soon as possible. Maybe they can do something before Toerson loots the place."
"I will give instructions to that effect today."
"It is too much of a coincidence," Grayshard said, "for Toerson to have come on us three times by chance. Maybe you ought to tell us what you know about her."
"Perhaps you're right," Gawin said, but he was reluctant to speak. Rikard closed up the case and put it down on the floor beside his chair. Gawin looked at it a moment, and then said, "How about we have some lunch?"
"That sounds like an excellent idea," Rikard said. This was, he knew, just his uncle's way of buying time to think about what he was going to say. Droagn and Grayshard agreed, and they all left their seats.
Gawin led them through the door behind his desk into a slightly smaller antechamber, which like the office was filled with paintings, sculptures, and constructs, with just enough room for another smaller desk, three side chairs, a sofa, and two low tables. There were also comcon screens on the walls, and one of them showed the office they had just left.
Gawin took them through a side door to a broad hall, with more art of all forms alternating with decorative furniture of all kinds. At the far end a figure appeared, a man formally dressed, who simply bowed when they neared, and who led them through stained-glass doors into a roomy dining room meant for only four or five people. Here, too, art was everywhere, including the table settings.
They sat, Droagn at the place with the low cushions, and the servant offered Gawin a menu, much to Rikard's surprise. Gawin studied it for a moment, murmured something that Rikard couldn't hear, and handed it back to the servant, who bowed and left.
"What was that all about?" Rikard asked.
"What? The menu? Just a list of what was best and freshest today. I took the liberty of ordering," he said to all three of his guests.
"You've not disappointed me before," Droagn said.
Grayshard said nothing.
Gawin turned to one side in his chair, and a Grelsh servant came from behind a decorative screen pushing an elaborate cart. Gawin offered his guests refreshments, which they accepted. The servant prepared the drinks, served them, then departed, leaving the cart.
"May I offer a toast." Gawin raised his glass. "To Rikard."
Rikard was surprised, but was saved any further embarrassment by the arrival of the meal, which was served by two Senola. When the servants left, Rikard said gently, "Tell me about it, Uncle Gawin."
"You'll be the first people I've shared this with since it happened," Gawin said. "I hope you'll understand why I've kept it to myself for so long.
"It happened back when I was in my early twenties, when my grandfather was still Lord Malvrone and my father was just the oldest son. Grandfather thought my father ought to have something to do, so he put him in charge of exploiting a planet. That was Murchison, which is doing pretty well now I understand. Bevry, Braice, and Sigra stayed with Mother on Malvrone, but I went along for the experience—after all, I was the odd one and a troublemaker and this way Father thought I could work things out of my system without embarrassing the family.
"Father was ostensibly in charge of the operation, but a professional exploiter named Howvar Toerson was really in charge, and he had his daughter Karyl with him. I think her mother was dead. One of Toerson's primary agents was a young man named Arin Braeth."
"My father."
"Yes, Rikard. He was far too capable for his years. He was in charge of everything that Howvar didn't take charge of himself, and he had a way about him that made people want to do wha
t he asked them to."
"The three of us, Karyl and Arin and I, quickly came to know each other, and we preferred each other's company, though aside from age we had little in common. I quickly learned that I didn't have the courage or genius of your father, Rikard, nor the recklessness nor obsessive drive of Karyl Toerson."
"Arin had his professional responsibilities, I was kept at home a lot in spite of my being there for 'experience,' and Karyl was frequently just gone, God knows where, out in the wilderness. But we spent time together whenever we could, and we'd go off together on adventures. I collected stuff, Arin explored, and Karyl did whatever she wanted and caused mischief and stole."
"One time we found something, I won't tell you what it was, but we decided to keep it for ourselves. We had to be sneaky about it, because it was on site and legally part of the resources we were developing. So while Arin and I removed it from the matrix, Karyl kept guard, and then we all took it away."
"But later at the site a workman and guard were found dead, and the fact of the theft was obvious. Your father and I knew Karyl had killed the two men, but we didn't say anything, in order to protect her, and ourselves."
"But since the site was directly under Arin's supervision, and the crime went unsolved, it became obvious that he was covering up. And so he was shipped out. I was known to be a frequent associate of his, and was confined to the family camp. But somehow Karyl got off scot-free."
"That didn't seem right to me. She'd committed the murders, and Arin and I had gotten punished. As well as I could, I checked into things, and that was when I discovered that Karyl was my father's secret mistress. And that explained a lot, you'd better believe. But like before, I kept quiet about it, but I decided to give up adventuring altogether, and when I got back home I did my best to fly straight. But I was always afraid Father would find out that I knew about him and Karyl. And if he was the kind of person to let her get off with murdering two people, then what might he do to protect his secret? I didn't want to find out.
