*
“Is this a formal hearing?” asked Kenneth Humbolt. “If so, I feel that Interstellar Materials should be given the courtesy of adequate legal counsel.”
The Lorr agent peered at Humbolt, face unreadable. Barton Kinsolving had tried for four years to find some trace of emotion in the aliens and had always failed. Their gray faces appeared to be chiseled from some strange, living granite, and he had never seen one that did not have squinting amber, pupilless eyes. The agent-general for Deepdig sat quietly behind a huge, cut stone table, fingers folding and unfolding in front of him in boneless ways not shared by humans. Other than this — a nervous gesture? — Kinsolving got no hint of the seriousness of the matter. He’d have to let Humbolt handle it, even though Humbolt had been less than responsive in the past six days since arriving.
Kinsolving frowned as he considered this. He’d sent the message packet directly to company headquarters on GT 4, almost fifty light years distant. Even with the supershift acceleration used by the message encapsulation, it couldn’t have been received in less than three days. Humbolt had to have been en route and could never have read the contents of the packet, even though he claimed to have come in response.
Kinsolving wondered if Humbolt lied to keep an innocent facade in front of the Lorr. He had noticed Ala’s attitude toward the aliens hardening more than it had been; if her feeling toward the Lorr was hard, Humbolt’s was vicious and paranoid.
“This is a formal hearing to determine guilt,” said the Lorr agent-general. The long fingers rippled, as if they were reflections in a pond rather than real digits. When the Lorr spoke, his thin lips pulled back in an expression similar to a human grimace, but no human’s dark, pebbly tongue thrust from between lips to produce such a startling effect. And no human’s teeth shone in a solid white dental plate. “There will be penalties assessed as a result of the findings this day.”
“We demand counsel,” said Humbolt in a voice too loud for the small room. The gathered Lorr trained their pupilless eyes on him and remained silent.
“Mr. Humbolt,” Kinsolving said softly. “Can we get the hearing postponed?”
“I tried,” Humbolt said. “The Bizzies wouldn’t do it. They want to convict us all right now.”
“They were thorough going over the mine’s shipment records,” Kinsolving said. “It might be wise to admit guilt and take whatever punishment they have.”
“Are you crazy?” Humbolt’s eyes widened in shock.
“They’re not stupid, Mr. Humbolt. We don’t want to lose the rare earth mines for IM, do we? The Lorr might revoke our mining permit unless we do confess guilt.” Kinsolving looked over at Ala Markken, who sat straight in a chair, eyes focused on a blank wall. Kinsolving had tried several times to talk to her and she had refused.
“The Bizzies won’t go that far,” Humbolt said, but no confidence rang in his voice on this point.
“What did she do with all the ore?” mused Kinsolving.
“What? Markken, you mean? Don’t let it trouble you, Kinsolving. You’re doing a fine job.”
“I missed the pilfering. As mine supervisor, it was my duty to check everything, and I missed it.” Kinsolving could barely bring himself to call the loss of over one hundred thousand kilograms of rare earth oxides “pilfering.” He wasn’t sure he had a word encompassing such a scale of theft, though.
“Primary among the charges against your company,” spoke up the agent-general, “is fraud in not paying severance taxes.” The Lorr twisted forward at an angle showing too few bones in his ribcage as he read the amounts. Kinsolving recoiled as a disagreeable odor rose. The Lorr’s expression never changed but Kinsolving felt the extreme tension — the alien’s stench seemed to be an indication of loathing or fear of the humans. “Your supervisor and my auditors have agreed that taxes are delinquent on two hundred thousand kilos.”
Humbolt held Kinsolving down at the inflated number. “Interstellar Materials agrees to pay these sums,” Humbolt said, face pinched. “But we request graduated payments. The recent disaster at the mine has left us in precarious financial condition.”
“No.”
“But — ”
“No,” said the Lorr, voice flat and brooking no argument. “Further, we will in the future monitor onsite all liftings from the mine. No more can we allow your numbers to stand.”
“This isn’t part of our agreement,” protested Humbolt.
“The amount of ore reaching your cargo ships is now in question,” said the agent-general. He raised the curiously boned hand and the fingers rippled like tentacles. “We are investigating all avenues of exit from this planet to discover how the stolen ores were removed.”
Kinsolving found himself nodding. This had bothered him, too. It appeared that Ala was guilty — and the other five he had suspected. But how had she removed the ore from Deepdig? That required the use of heavy equipment to move, to load, to get into orbit and onto a starship. And where did the stolen ore go? The amounts of pure samarium and the other rare earths might reach the tens of kilos by this time. Who could use such quantities without accounting for its source? Kinsolving knew that Earth authorities were meticulous in checking for contraband brought onto their home planet.
Still, a few kilos over four years could be missed by even the most careful of searches.
That did not answer the questions of who and what did they do with material of such specific technological use.
“No fewer than five agent-captains will be stationed at each of your mines,” the Lorr went on. “Their job will be to detect illicit activity detrimental to Lorr security and revenues. Any argument with them will constitute grounds for permanent revocation of Interstellar Materials’ license.”
“I protest. On the behalf of IM, I demand a hearing with legal counsel.” Humbolt looked as if he’d been trapped and fought desperately to escape.
“Refused,” the Lorr said. Kinsolving detected the first trace of emotion on the alien’s part: triumph.
“We can live with it,” Kinsolving said to Humbolt. The man spun and glared at him.
“We can’t live with it, dammit,” flared Humbolt.
“We retain the mining agreement,” Kinsolving pointed out. Humbolt’s expression told him that he was missing a key element in this. The ore was important to IM, but there was more. What? Kinsolving felt as if he’d been cast adrift and had lost sight of all land. And no one in the lifeboat would tell him where to paddle.
“How do we appeal this ruling?” called out Humbolt.
The Lorr bobbed his narrow head, amber eyes fixed on Humbolt. “This is the court of final rulings. You have lost in all lesser courts. My decision is final.”
“But this is only the preliminary hearing!” Kinsolving blurted.
“You don’t understand,” said Humbolt. “They don’t want us to win. They can make up whatever rules they want as they go along. This one puts their guards in the mines. Dammit!”
“This matter is closed,” said the Lorr agent-general. “The next case is of lesser importance and has been decided.” The Lorr pointed and Ala Markken and the other five Kinsolving had decided were implicated in the ore theft were seized by the guards. “Take these to our prison to begin their sentences.”
“Wait, you can’t do this, you damned Bizzie!” shouted Humbolt.
The Lorr faced Kinsolving and said, “The agent-general and the Grand Council of Lorr thank Barton Kinsolving for his service in bringing these felons to justice.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Kinsolving protested. He turned to Ala. Her eyes had widened in shock. Now fury burned in them — and it was directed at him.
“I didn’t tell them anything. Ala, believe me. I didn’t!”
The woman wasn’t allowed to speak. The Lorr guards hurried her and the others from the room.
“Mr. Humbolt, I swear it. I never gave any evidence to the agent-general. He’s lying!”
“His evidence came from somewhere,” said Humbolt. The man heaved a sigh a
nd sagged back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Kinsolving. I know you wouldn’t betray any of your kind to a Bizarre.”
“I don’t have your … distaste for the Lorr,” Kinsolving said, “but they’re not my friends, either. I’d never willingly turn Ala over to them.”
“You believe all that space gas put out about the Bizzies? Did you swallow it all without question?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Back on Earth. The appeasement faction in power now.”
“I don’t understand,” said Kinsolving.
“They spew out all that shit about how we can live with the Bizzies, how they’ll accept us if we’re sweet and smile at our betters. They want to exist under the Bizzies’ heel as slaves rather than as free men. That’s the only way they think they can stay in power.”
Humbolt’s words came like a lecture — or a sermon. Kinsolving said, “I’ve got nothing against aliens. These — the agent-general — seems to carry a grudge against us. It might be directed at IM instead of at Ala and the others. He just sees a way to get even.”
“We must keep them away from the mines,” said Humbolt. He closed his case and stood. “Return to Deepdig number two and see if you can’t get those lower levels opened. And if you happen to accidentally lose a few of the Bizzies, fine.”
With that Kenneth Humbolt left the room.
Kinsolving watched and found himself beginning to despair. Ala Markken had been taken to prison, the impression given that he had been responsible. And Humbolt’s attitude struck Kinsolving as totally wrong. Payment of the fine had galled the man, but having Lorr agents present at the mine site sent him into a real panic.
Why? Kinsolving felt that a world once logical and sane had turned upside down around him.
Worst of all, he wondered what new and terrible fate lay in store for him. He felt it coming, inexorably, and had no way of dodging.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kenneth Humbolt settled down in a chair and tried to relax. The man kept worrying over the problems posed by the Lorr agent-general — and the limitless trouble this would create with the board of directors. Humbolt had seen the chairman of the board angry before. Fremont usually downed his strength potion and rose, gnarled knuckles on the table, and then bellowed.
He bellowed and ranted and spat and the one on the receiving end of the tirade would try to sink into the floor. No one was strong enough, emotionally or politically, to endure the chairman’s full wrath for longer than a few seconds.
Humbolt doubted such dismissal on Fremont’s part was all that occurred. Not once had Humbolt ever heard of anyone after they had been removed from the board of Interstellar Materials. They vanished completely. Never did they appear on another company’s board nor did they assume lesser roles in IM.
They disappeared without trace.
Humbolt rubbed his forehead nervously, hand coming away with sweat in spite of the air-conditioning working valiantly to keep the room at GT 4’s lower mean temperature.
He finally realized that it wasn’t the air conditioner that was failing. And this made Humbolt even more nervous. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms tightly around himself, eyes closed to help him concentrate.
Things had glitched beyond his control. The flooding of the mine had gone according to schedule. It should have been enough to keep the Lorr agent-general and his auditors from ever determining the true output from the mine. No matter what the Lorr claimed, IM could make the counter that even more rare earth ore had been lost.
“Damn Kinsolving,” he said aloud. He had appointed the man in spite of distinct reservations. He had nothing against Kinsolving’s engineering ability. The man’s ratings had been the highest. But he had been too steeped in the drivel poisoning the schools on Earth.
Give in to the aliens. Don’t make them mad. Fit into a tiny niche and pick up their crumbs. Soon enough mankind would be allowed to join in. Soon. Very soon.
Humbolt snorted and rubbed his nose. He didn’t accept such a passive philosophy for an instant. Not after he’d heard the Plan.
Humbolt opened his eyes and rocked slightly to one side. He idly punched up Kinsolving’s file. He shook his head. Along with the ability to squeeze more ore from Deepdig number two than any other engineer employed by IM went a certainty that bordered on monomania. The man’s stubbornness once he thought he was right was without limit.
His nose twitched again. Humbolt rubbed it, then jumped out of his chair when a soft, oily voice said, “There are drugs that might alter his opinions.”
“What?” Humbolt’s hand sank into the folds of his jacket to touch the handle of a stun rod. His eyes narrowed when he saw the overdressed man who had managed to enter the room, circle behind him and watch unobserved for — how long?
The man smiled disarmingly and held out his hands to silently proclaim himself harmless. Humbolt almost accepted that. The man’s clothing bordered on the absurd. Soft pinks and mint greens melted in formless swirls on a silk doublet with frilled white lace cuffs. The collar hung open to reveal a dozen platinum- and diamond-studded necklaces, any of which would have looked better around a woman’s neck. Tight black stretch breeches with a codpiece and calf-high leather boots turned a parody of fashion into an outright joke.
But Humbolt didn’t laugh. Something about the man’s eyes warned him this would be dangerous. And his unannounced visitor had entered without tripping any of the alarms Humbolt had planted for security.
“The alarms, good sir?” the man said in his unctuous voice. “Is that the point worrying you so?”
“Those were the best IM has. They didn’t malfunction.”
“But of course not.” The man smiled, showing perfect white teeth rimmed in gold with occasional diamond, ruby and emerald embeddings. “I must caution those on the board of directors about this model.” From nowhere the man produced one of the alarms. He tossed it casually onto the table.
“Who are you? You’re not with the company.”
An even wider smile almost dazzled Humbolt. For the first time, true fear stabbed at his heart. His knuckles turned white as he tensed on the handle of the stun rod.
“Of course I am.”
“I’m a director. I know all the company personnel on Deepdig.”
“Yes, you are a director, good sir.” The man moved with fluid grace and settled daintily into a chair in front of Humbolt’s desk. Foppishly crossing his legs and smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in his black breeches, the man asked, “Do you think this codpiece is too, well, too much? I was torn between its more daring fashion statement and modesty. I chose the former, of course. Never hesitate to be yourself, eh? But your opinion is of some importance, Mr. Humbolt.”
Humbolt sank back into his chair and tapped the indent-key on the computer console. The screen blinked instantly, signalling a null match.
“Company records show you’re not an employee, but no one except Interstellar Materials’ personnel is allowed on planet. That’s part of our agreement with the Lorr.”
“You’re asking how I came to this rather out-of-the-way spot?” The man fluffed his collar ruffles and smiled. This time the expression chilled Humbolt completely.
He wasn’t sure even his weapon would be enough against this dandy. And he didn’t know why he felt that. Becoming director of IM hadn’t been easy. He had killed along the way — and worse.
Kenneth Humbolt wasn’t sure even his quick reflexes would be enough. And he didn’t know why. Uncertainty always worried him. Sweat began beading on his forehead.
“Is it too warm for you? Oh, pardon me. I am so rude at times. You are just in from GT 4. A chilly place, that, and not one I care for. Warmer climes are better suited for living, though the cooler ones afford greater opportunity for displaying a well-developed … wardrobe.”
The man gestured and Humbolt almost froze. The simple pass of a hand had caused the thermostat to drop to its lowest setting.
“How’d you get here?” Humbolt aske
d again.
“How do you get the ore off Deepdig?” the man riposted. “We need not concern ourselves with trivial matters. My time is valuable, and I am ever so sure yours is, also. Am I correct in this, Mr. Humbolt?”
Humbolt’s shoulders rippled as he jerked out the stun rod, finger pressing the firing stud before the weapon had even cleared its holster. The back of the chair where the man had been exploded, splinters flying everywhere.
The man stood beside Humbolt, thumb and forefinger lightly touching Humbolt’s wrist.
“Drop the stun rod, Mr. Humbolt,” he said, the hint of true amusement dancing on his too-handsome features. Dark-painted eyes gleamed with a feral cruelty. Humbolt twitched, then screamed. The thumb and forefinger grip tightened with steely intensity.
“Stop it!” Humbolt shrieked. “You’re breaking my wrist!”
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Humbolt. It wouldn’t do to damage you, would it? Your services are of considerable importance to IM.” As if brushing off an insect, the man pushed Humbolt’s wrist away.
“You’re Villalobos’, aren’t you?” Humbolt demanded. “You’re Cameron.”
“I do confess to the latter, Mr. Humbolt.” Cameron made a broad, mocking bow as if he paid obeisance to some Earthly king of a dozen centuries earlier. “But to state that I somehow belong to Dr. Villalobos is wrong. I work tirelessly for IM, as you do. Maria happens to be my immediate superior, that’s all.”
“Maria?” Humbolt had never heard anyone use Villalobos’ first name so casually. The small, dark director was more commonly referred to as “that bitch.”
Cameron’s laugh carried true scorn in it. Humbolt couldn’t decide whether it was scorn for Villalobos or himself.
“The good lady’s relationship is special to me in ways other than that of employer-employee, but then yours is special with her, also, is it not?” Humbolt would gladly break her spine and leave her paralyzed for the rest of her natural life if he could.
“Yes, we share a special rapport,” Humbolt said. He straightened in the chair and forced himself to keep from rubbing his still-hurting wrist. “Why are you on Deepdig? IM business, of course, but what? I was not informed.”
The Stellar Death Plan (Masters of Space Book 1) Page 4
