by neetha Napew
Todd looked up, somewhat surprised, but Kelly hadn’t smothered him with sympathy earlier and she’d scarcely do it in front of guests.
“She is?” Pat glanced at him, worried. “I thought you’d want her input.
Isn’t that all right?”
“Sure,’ Todd said hastily.
As deftly as her father would, Emma led the discussion away to other matters, and held forth on the subject of trade among the colony worlds. Todd found her not only charming but intelligent. He rather thought she and Kelly would like each other.
Kelly arrived only minutes behind the Hrrubans.
They greeted each other warmly. “It’s nice to see so much of you these days,’ she said ingenuously.
Todd couldn’t help but gawk at her, for she couldn’t have more plainly told him she’d visited Hrriss, too.
“Well,’ said Pat, surprised, “you did learn some diplomacy, after all.”
Then Ken introduced her to Emma and offered drinks all round.
For the first time, Todd found that the simple courtesies be usually enjoyed extending struck him as unnecessary time-wasters. Once Hrrestan and Mrrva were settled, Emma began to detail the files she had unlocked.
“It’s turned out to be more than juSt trusting my father’s opinions of you and Hrriss,’ she said, “I think we may have stumbled onto a very complex and highly organized smuggling operation.” She waited patiently until everyone stopped demanding details. “I found some, all right. And more data from the beacons orbiting the other prohibited worlds is still coming in. So far, all of them show the identification number of the Albatross as having entered those systems shortly before or shortly after the ship visited Hrretha. The information is not yet complete. There are still four buoys circling interdicted systems left to be heard from, and that data will come in within the next few days.”
“I can’t believe that they all have the code number from the boys’ ship,’ Pat said.
“Now, the beacons identify the Albatross as being the ship that crossed their barriers in each instance.
The œdes as you know are complex, not easy to duplicate.”
“As I told you, Emma, Ken began, his anger building, “someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it convincing “For a researcher like myself, there’s just too much corroborative detail available to be coincidence or accident,’ Emma went on, and although Ken started to protest, Pat touched his arm, her eyes watching Emma’s face. For Pat was beginning to see what Emma was driving at. “So far we have thefts committed by two young males who lack for nothing. They’re psychologically normal, without any history of kleptomania or harmful pranks.
Healthy in every way.” Todd blushed at her frankness and she smiled gently at him. “It was necessary to take a glance at your medical profile,’ she said. “There’s nothing in it to be ashamed of.
To continue, they’re respected by their community, and their future is bright if only they continue to behave as they have. This series of crimes requires a motivation.”
“I know the motivation,’ Todd said in a flat voice that showed he was controlling his anger. “This issue would make a terrific fulcrum for the lever to pry Doona apart.”
“I’m inclined to agree,’ Hrrestan said, nodding his head in agreement with Todd’s opinion, “but if we have the motivation, can we also discover the perpetrator?”
“Landreau has to be involved in this somewhere, Todd said angrily, his eyes flashing blue fire.
“Rogitel’s presence at the Hrrethan affair was unnecessary. Both.
. .” Todd halted then plunged, “I felt he was nearly splitting with anticipation and it couldn’t have been for the inauguration of another grid facility! He was there, keeping track of... of us... on Landreau’s orders. The Admiral would do anything to discredif Doona this year and to disrupt the crucial talks that are going on. A scandal like two notable citizens of Doona turning out to be pirates and smugglers could tear everything apart. Only how did it get done?”
“The opinion of the Ssspeakrrrs, Hrrestan added, “favors the idea of a conspiracy, aimed at you and our son, to discredit the Rralan Experiment. They have informed me that they are conducting their own investigations into these charges as they know that never have you or my son behaved in a dishonorable fashion. As Emma Sumitral has ssaid, there is far to6 much evidence against them. There are elements on Rrala who also wish this Experiment to end in disarray. These are being scrutinized. True guilt lies elsewhere but it will be discovered.
“And I,’ Kelly said, looking inordinately pleased with her contribution, “am handling the unofficial Terran Investigative Group.
You didn’t know you had one, did you, Todd?” She grinned at him.
While she had admired Emma’s clear-minded statements, she hadn’t quite liked her tone, nor the way she had smiled at Todd. Sort of, well, proprietary and perhaps a little patronizing. Whoa!
Kelly thought, yanking hard on her own mental reins. Who was acting proprietary now?
“May I remind all of you,’ Emma put in, “that it is essential that all investigations be done as circumspectly as possible so as not to prejudice the official one?” Ken leaned forward toward Emma. “We must all be wary of how we proceed. But, in spite of the need for caution, I’ve started some inquiries through the Alreldep office, and I discover, to my relief,’ and he grinned at his son, “that the memory of Todd as he was has been replaced by the record of a hardworking young man.”
“Which reminds me, Dad, this hardworking young man did some rounding up today with Lon.
And we found out something I like even less than I like my present anomalous position. We’re minus seventeen horses, mostly yearlings and two-year-olds.”
“Seventeen horses gone since the last count?” Ken repeated, staring at his son in disbelief. As if he didn’t need this, too, on his plate.
“One was dead of ssersa poisoning and I hlped Ion clear that field myself. There were other ssersa plants where there shouldn’t be a one.” “Ssersa does not have legs to walk,’ Hrrestan said, shaking his head as he knew how careful the Reeves were about hand-pulling the toxic weed from all grazing areas.
“There was also this burned-out patch on the one flat space in the field,’ Todd went on. “Shuttlesized, I’d say.”
“Rustlers!” Ken nearly bounced from his chair with indignation.
Hrrestan hissed. “That is a most serious crime.
There have been no instances of animal theft in years.
“Lon reported to Poldep. We sent a list of the brands to Michael,’ and Todd turned to Kelly, who was as surprised and angry as any stock rancher would be. “One or two of “em may have jumped the fence.”
“But not seventeen,’ Ken said, still absorbing the shock.
“We’ll have to hang on to some of the breeding stock, then, Todd.”
“Dad, I’d ask around to see if there’s anyone new here who’s had a sudden embarrassment of credit.
I’ll just put it about that there’ll be no charges pressed at Poldep if that little herd wanders home, wagging tails behind em.”
“Could snakes have caught them?” Pat asked.
“You had that breakout at the Boncyks’. What if a Mommy or two got past you?”
“None did,’ Todd replied flatly, frankly upset that his mother even asked such a question.
“Well, it was a possibility,’ she said apologetically.
“What else could go wrong?” Kelly asked, more rhetorically than expecting any answer.
“What else?” Emma asked, her expression clearly reflecting her dislike of adding to the current problems. “I think I’d better be the one to tell you.
Admiral Landreau has arrived. He gridded in just before I left Treaty Island.”
CHAPTER 5
ADMIRAL AL LANDREAU HAThD DOONA.
Initially, when the bright blue pebble with its light cloud coverage had swum into his viewscreen, he thought it looked peaceful and pleasant. When he had been
assigned to explore it for a preliminary search, it had seemed the perfect Earthlike world, class M in the old parlance, atmosphere, nearnormal gravity and all, the very epitome of what Spacedep was searching for. It was full of possibilities, and the key to fame and better departmental financing for him.
Ever since the first colonists landed there, though, it had been one long headache for Spacedep and Landreau. He lay the source of all his troubles squarely upon the backs of the Reeves. A family of malcontents, by all accounts from Aisle and Corridor monitors, always disturbing civilized people with their noise and antisocial behavior.
They had made a public fool of him. They, or specifically, Ken Reeve, had blamed him for not noticing their mythical cat people or the nightmarish giant snakes in time to prevent the colonization.
As if there was any way he could have known about them, in spite of that ape Sumitral’s-insistence that the clues were all there. Reeve had made a fool of him, claimed he jeopardized the colony.
Well, the colonists had been in the wrong. They had violated the Siwannese protocol, had resisted being removed from the planet in spite of their feigned horror over that violation, and had been compounding that transgression anathema for a quarter of a century. Now was the moment to eradicate that mistake, put it behind him. He fully intended to do so. His opportunity had been handed to him, calligraphed, signed, sealed, and set under a glass bell. To make it the sweetest possible revenge, Todd Reeve, the hysterical, bilingual boy child of Ken Reeve, was to be the key to ending this quarter century of humiliation. The Treaty Council was buzzing: rumors of resignation threats already abounded. Landreau was looking forward to hearing Rogitel’s full report.
There were cat people all over the building where he gridded in.
Their hairy, fang-toothed faces made him shudder. The Hrrubans were an abomination against nature’s plan. Cats shouldn’t walk like Humans.
They should go on all four legs like the basically feral animals they imitated.
When the mist of transfer cleared, he was facing one of the very creatures he abhorred. The animal operating the grid center opened its mouth at him and showed its teeth, casually displaying its bestiality.
The horror was that it thought it was smiling.
He nodded curtly and stepped down.
It was outrageous that these Hrrubans should have stumbled on any technology as powerful as the transportation grid. While the grid was convenient, having to use it frightened him: he preferred to be in control of the mechanisms used in travel. What if the operator hadn’t been well enough trained, and Landreau was trapped in the grid, neither one place nor another? Supposing someone with a grievance against him took a bribe and sent him to the wrong destination, even a fatal one?
He would have preferred to have the one facility on Earth destroyed, and its operator returned to its homeworld. Wherever that was. If Landreau could only find it - - That damned Treaty neatly blocked that aspiration. However, the cats were not fooling Admiral Al Landreau.
He had long since deduced their real objective. This transport grid of theirs: a single grid, like the one on Terra, could be quickly built into a giant one, capable of moving armies.
Yet the blockheads and simpering idiots in positions of power on the Amalgamated Worlds refused to see the threat inherent in the cats’ technology.
But he had made allies, supported causes in return for the support of his. This year would see the end to the Hrruban threat before it became a nightmare reality.
The grid operator said something in the ridiculous collection of grunts and growls that served the beast race for a language. Sounded like bad plumbing. And that was yet another insult: that Human beings were to imitate such filthy noise instead of good, clean Terran.
“Commander? I’m Nesfa Dupuis,’ a low voice at “94
“95
his elbow said in the Terran language.
Startled but relieved, Landreau turned. The speaker was a small Human woman with dark skin and glowing brown eyes. She stood next to the grid station, her hands folded quietly into her voluminous sleeves.
“Treaty Councillor,’ Landreau said smoothly, with a gracious nod and a quick handshake. “I want to see everything that you have on this vexing matter. When may I meet with the Council? It is important that I see them immediately.” The small woman held up a hand. “Not today, I’m sorry to inform you. We’re in the midst of deep negotiation on space rights, Commander.”
“Hmmph!” Landreau snorted. “Isn’t such a negotiation irrelevant in the face of the crimes reported to you?
You’re wasting time. Might as well address yourself to immediate and germane issues. Save yourself the bother.” Landreau realized immediately that he had misjudged this one. She was a Doona colony sympathizer. Another fardling New Ager. He sighed and turned on a charm that never failed to work.
“I’d like you to consider me a friend in this case, Councillor.
My lifelong ambition has been to promote the improvement of the quality of life for Humanity. I’ll do everything in my power to help expedite a successful conclusion to this disgraceful incident. Then the Council can continue its more important responsibilities.”
“You are so cooperative, Admiral,’ Dupuis said aloud, her schooled expression not revealing her true feelings, but she had long since taken the Admiral’s measure and was aware of some of hi’ machinations. “The Council is, of course, gratefu for any assistance in bringing this unfortunat situation to a swift conclusion. You will doubties’ wish to confer with your assistant. An office ha’ been set at your disposal near the one Commandei Rogitel is using. This way, please.
The deep male voice crackled over the speakei in the airfield control tower. “Tower, this is Codep ship Apocalypse, on final insertion through orbit.
I’ll be down there in a minute.”
“Can’t you be more specific, Fred?” Martinson asked, clapping one hand to his headset and checking the screens which displayed telemetry from the-orbiting navigation probes around Doona.
“Good to hear from you. Pad eight is open for your use. Got two mechanics on duty this morning if you need any refitting. Happy landing. The transport ship appeared as a ball of fire in the sky as the retros ignited in atmosphere and slowed the descent velocity.
Below, the roof of number 8 bay was rolling open. Apocalypse set down expertly in the ring encircling the number on the fireproof surface of the launchpad. There was one final burst of fire and a belch of black smoke as the engines shut down. Martinson arrived alongside the Apocalypse in a flitter, with a fumigation team and a customs official in tow.
“Hello, Martinson. Sorry to have missed New Home Week,’ the burly trader said, descending from the ship as the team crowded him on its way up into the passenger compartment. “Probably cost me a lot of business, but you can only go so fast in space, eh? I’ve got bushels of test seed designated for the farms here. Say, what’s all this?” He glanced at Newry, the customs agent, who took his manifests out of his hand and marched around to the ship’s cargo hatch.
“Sorry, Fred,’ Martinson said. “Every ship has to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb. Orders.”
“I’ve got my orders, too!” Horstmann boomed.
He was a big man with a big voice, and pale hair buzzed short in a spaceman’s clip. “Got customers waiting! You’ll get your duty fees.
I’ve never shorted you. So what’s the scramble for?”
“Only takes a few minutes,’ said Martinson, refusing to discuss the matter. He was determined not to be caught bending the rules again.
Horstmann stood, impatiently tapping his hand on his thigh until the customs agent returned with the clipboard. “Is everything all right? I’ve got business to do! You can’t stop the Horstmann of the Apocalypse from his ride forever! Ha, ha, ha!”
“All clear,’ Martinson said, ignoring Fred’s traditional joke. Newry handed his chief the clipboard full of manifests. He nodded over his shoulder toward the flitter. From the passen
ger seat, the thin form of Rogitel arose and approached the trader.
“Ah! Commander,’ Horstmann said, extending his hand. “Nice to see you. I’ve got your little package for you, tapes from the governor of Zapata Three. Kept it next to my heart. Got a real fine collection of seals from a lot of places I didn’t know existed .?” He cocked his head, hoping to be enlightened.
“Just pass it over,’ Rogitel said, ignoring the query and Horstmann’s extended hand.
With a shrug, Horstmann drew the package out of one of his sealed shipsuit pockets. Rogitel took the parcel, examined it briefly, and handed a credit chit to the captain.
“And thank you,’ Horstmann said, with overblown mock courtesy as the Spacedep official turned and walked off without another word.
“Huh!
What’s the matter here? Doona’s usually a hospitable place.
Couldn’t he waste an extra syllable to be polite? Some people!’ The Codep captain shook his head ruefully. “Well, credits are credits.” Horstmann tucked away the chit in his pouch. “Bobby!
Come on! Customers are waiting!” He walked into the Launch Center’s warehouse, where stalls were set up for traveling traders across from the permanent trading booths for the Doona Cooperative of Farmers and Skillcrafters. These facilities, originally the odd table or two set up for the display and sale of merchandise, had evolved into tidy shops, complete with display cases and specialized lighting. The exchange of goods and money became comfortable and convenient for traders who didn’t need to establish an on-planet trading route at every stop, and for their customers, who could browse about the wares displayed. All Kiachif had suggested the improvements. His ships carried trade goods from one world to another.
Now the port attracted persons of both species from all over Doona, to sell their own goods and buy what traders might have on offer.
“Give me a moment to unload the merchandise, good folk!” Horstmann pleaded. “Ah, today’s a good day to do business.” A couple of Hrruban ranchers from their Third Village had a string of pack ponies with them for sale. As the Apocalypse had suitable facilities for animal transport, Horstmann prowled around the little animals, lifting a hoof, examining teeth, before he made an opening offer.
