Trade Secret (eARC)

by Sharon Lee

  The day had suddenly become very long.

  "I see." Jethri made his comment and his face was as bland as it could get, but he was afraid his voice betrayed annoyance, given the Scout's immediate reinforced bow of contrition.

  "I'm puzzled," Jethri managed, "to say the least. If you'd like to know what I know about my father, perhaps we can talk on that. Do feel free to ask directly, so that we may both know how ignorant I am."

  That sounded like pouting to Jethri, but he honestly continued in the same vein, feeling the force of ire behind his words.

  "I will tell you that of secret plans spread by Terran tradeships, I do not know. Iza kept me away from such news, if she knew of it herself, and now, Scout, I must ask what kind of conspiracy is being built here? Is it being built against me?"

  Jethri looked away this time, his heart skipping a beat as he heard "Balrog on final exit leg" from the low mutters of local traffic, his eyes scanning to locate--ah, exiting local orbit, not yet nearing Jump, Freza riding away with a copy of whatever the Envidaria was . . . His sigh was real, and informed his growing vehemence.

  "Your ship--our ship, if you will-- is invaded because I am here. You tell me that Scouts are chasing my father's words, and at the same time I must trust a Scout to act for me after Scouts have stolen from me, the word of Scouts not being universal . . ."

  Jethri's ring flashed as he struck fist to palm in emphasis: "We have--I have--guidance from the lawjaw I spoke to. I don't know who you consulted, but there's plans I have here, depending on which world we go to, and which way your people want to act. A couple of the places--that's the blue option--I'm just supposed to have them arrested for theft, if we can get them off-ship, 'cause Liadens don't have particular notice there and I will, that is, I do. That Combine key, it marks me a trader, you see, on all of these seventeen worlds, Terran-based worlds every one."

  "The red list, I need to go to the proctors on port, declare my name and my intent, and have the ships blocked to port and searched for my goods . . . and if I must, claim their ships forfeit."

  Jethri laughed without mirth at that, shaking his head and staring down the Scout's gaze.

  The Scout stiffened, and bowed permission to continue.

  "It seemed extreme to me, too." Jethri shook his head, closed his eyes, opened them with determination, gathering energy.

  "I thought that was too much," he said, "but now I'm not sure. We'd use something they call a Writ of Replevin, demanding my stuff back and holding theirs hostage for it. And since you're here, or will be there, with me, you're my witness against them. We'll need your card and signature tomorrow, so we can get this in order and have it with us. That's what you've got to do, if it comes to that."

  Jethri waited, saw the scout waiting, wondered if he'd overstated something--

  The Scout nodded a small bow of assent, and then it turned into a bigger, more formal bow.

  "I have put myself in a position of being sworn to multiple masters. It is an exquisite melant'i play which my old delm--dead before I was first sent to the Scouts for training, alas--would have found amusing. And so I have told you, and I have told your clan, that having erred, I will support all efforts to return your lost items to you, though in the larger universe they might have little value.

  "Having said that," he went on, "I must still do as much of my duty as possible to all of my masters; not only to my delm, but to those who do me the honor of calling me a Scout and giving me this ship to fly, and to those who have entrusted me with the will of their clan, and to you. Let us both speak to the point: we have a common goal and as for that common goal, we pursue it vigorously, and to some extent with the support of the Scouts."

  The Scout stared vaguely into the screens, probably not seeing what Jethri was seeing--the tagged Balrog leaving the crowded close-control zone for the outer-limit free maneuvering zone--and then turned his dark eyes back to Jethri, his hands motioning an emphasis Jethri could not read.

  "Count me on your side, if you must have a side, to the point of returning you to Elthoria, whole. That is our conspiracy. The rest of it goes as necessity requires. As an honorable man, grant me that. And let us continue with our quest. I will go with you to this court tomorrow, and then we shall go forth."

  Turmoil in his head, the trader in him wished to accept the offer at face value, while the Terran crewman, still discovering his father and his heritage, was not so sure. He stared at the scan of the system, the retreating Balrog reduced to small font and numbers, wishing he'd known to ask after his father's paper when Freza mentioned it. The thing was deep, after all, layers of might know, could know, can't know, should know and shouldn't know. In truth, he couldn't tell who was at the center of all that--Jethri or Arin? Arin being unavailable, and Grig and Paitor too far away to ask, the solving must be up to him.

  The solving was his.

  After several moments, Jethri bowed. He'd come on this mission, after all, so his throw had been made.

  "Yes," he said. "We need to talk, then--I really do have information on how to proceed, as long as we can locate the . . . thieves . . . solidly in Terran space--on one of those places with these Joint Commercial Chancery Courts."

  The Scout bowed now, with a hint of a smile.

  "I, too, have information to share. We have a destination! There is a message to the pair of us--I'll shunt it to your board shortly--from your mother the trader, who advises us that it would be useful to Clan Ixin and to Elthoria if you were able to take advantage of an invitation to a trade meeting. It happens to be at a station around a Terran world already on our list. It is a Combine world, and has much to recommend it to us for our search. I'll arrange for a lift-off after our morning duties!"

  *

  My son, said the letter, within a short while of your departure from Elthoria we had the honor of receipt of an invitation for myself and for yourself, as Elthoria, as Elthoria's representatives or for yourself--that is for you in particular as the certified bearer of a ten-year Combine key--to take part in a regional trade meeting at Tradedesk Trade Platform, near Vincza, a new Terran trade center. The invitation is from the Carresens Coordinating Committee, and is signed by one D. Omron, of CEA. I know of this event--the meeting rotates among several worlds and venues over time and is shown in a number of trade publications; in general it is a meeting open to Terran traders of some repute. I have here as well a similar message requesting the attendance of Trader Jethri ven'Deelin's associate Tan Sim, as well. These invitations are all enclosed within the accompanying files. In good faith, though I doubt the utility, I have forwarded to Tan Sim his own invitation in the hope that he might be able, by replying, to make at least useful contacts for himself and your own independent efforts form this.

  Having Vincza on the list of potential destinations left me by Scout ter'Astin, I ask that you make the best of the invitation if at all possible, and if not, that you certainly acknowledge it and that the contact and honor are not lost to yourself and to Elthoria. We shall all prosper by such expanded trade, I am sure.

  *

  The lift prep, when it came, was not as happy a time as Jethri had imagined. Not only was he out a good bit of cash--promised to be reimbursed by the Scout!--but the writ and the piece of paper and sealed order wand was paid for and in force here on Balfour. He'd never done anything quite so official in his life, and it had left him a little tight in the gut for making such a fuss. What they'd created, was called a Certified Templatable Action for a Writ of Replevin. With it, they could make a ship stick to port, or even take a whole ship if they had to!

  The writ was "propagating across cooperating political and social entities" right now. That meant a correspondent court could use their action here as an example and have proof that the order'd been paid for and seen before a law clerk twice and spoke over by a judge (even if by video from the other side of the world . . .) and that the witness was acceptable to the jurisdiction.

  So, after all the wait and fuss, it just meant
unless they walked out the door and caught the man with the notebook right here, all they'd paid for with their time and delay was guidelines for someone else to follow if they wanted to.

  "In principle, Trader, you've got a four-step pattern to follow, and it ought to be good across all the signatory worlds. The thing is, though, that agreement is for all Terran worlds and for Terran-based ships and pilots. Come three Standards or so we'll have the rules firmly propagated so it should mean any ships and people doing business across the jurisdiction, so it wouldn't matter if someone's Terran or Liaden--we caught that idea from the Liadens, you know!" Dorster said, nodding through the vidscreen toward the Scout standing beside Jethri. But if you're not sure where you'll pin these thieves down, then I'm not going to promise you more than 'ought to work.'"

  They'd arrived back at the ship after a silent walk: who wanted to talk legal stuff in the hallways? More, he needed to do research and history checking on the Combine, and on Arin's business--what exactly had he done as commissioner, anyway?

  One more definition, Jethri promised himself, waiting for a new lift time since they'd been held for an incoming emergency.

  He'd started off looking for Arin's Envidaria of the Seventeen Worlds in Keravath's general information files to no avail, and he decided it was probably just as well, since the files he could easily access, aside piloting information and the like which the Scout was only too willing to share, were files generally available on Liad's public infostreams. The Scout-specific reference lists--other than piloting--were not piped to his board.

  Still, the general files might have something, he'd thought, and plowed along. Since the Scout claimed that he was unsure, research showed . . . nothing clear.

  Envidaria by itself was available as a series of definitions, showing the word in related sentences . . . and in so many senses that it confused mightily. It appeared in general to refer to "things that work" or to more closely to the statement "this functions properly" or . . . well, it was confusing. He'd also tried the "Seventeen Worlds" and was offered screen after screen of information on a peculiar knot of worlds along the galactic arm that were mostly Terran, and constrained by the physics of dust clouds, particle jets, and gaseous remnants of a string of supernovas. The Jumps into and out of the region were extra long, and for the next few centuries, the easiest Jump locations would be fraught with hot magnetic bubbles, essentially doubling and tripling travel time into and out of the arm.

  Seventeen Worlds is not a coincidence, he thought. His father had been a far-seeing man . . .

  "Second, if you please, we'll need your attention here for lift in a short while. The mysteries of atmospheric flight are about to unfold for you--find the weather reports and let me know which of them you think we'll need to attend to--our projected orbit is already on the top screen!"

  As he stored his searches and kicked in the weather call, something tickled at his backbrain, something his father had said to him, or that someone had said to his father within his hearing. There he was, sitting with the fractin frame in front of him and . . .

  The blue light flashed, showing a weather advisory on the self-same weather system that had brought in the incoming emergency landing. He shoved the fractin frame back into memory. For the moment, thunderstorms and wind shear were going to be on his mind.

  *

  The trip from Balfour to Vincza was a Jump of a little over nine days. Jethri'd tried for four hours to make it into two short Jumps, but the math wouldn't make it work despite his surety that there were places that two Jumps could actually cut time. The Scout told him it merely proved he'd had access to old charts at some point and asked him to proceed with the rest of his duties.

  "What I discover at Balfour is that your name is worth more among Terrans than mine, young Jethri--which is not entirely a surprise. By being both of Elthoria and having the heritage of Gobelyn's Market on your resume, even my connections believe you are already a force to be reckoned with."

  Jethri spent nearly a full Terran day in calculation on their way to the Jump point, avoiding a headache but managing to put such tension into his wrists that they popped noisily several times. He finally stood behind his seat, switching hands as he held onto the seat with one and stepped in place in the low G, getting his exercise despite the work needing to be done.

  "You're sure that will work, Captain?"

  The Scout let a smile escape: "One of the joys of such things is that the majority of miscalculated Jumps will result in nothing more than the ship continuing in the current trajectory--which is to say orbit--for we're within a very complex system and even under way, at some power, we're in orbit around all of these local stars. Although we may look silly to outsiders if we exhibit the full run up and then fail to go more extravagantly elsewhere, I'm not concerned of a failure, nor should you be. It has happened to the best of pilots, I assure you."

  "This is what I have, and this is where it says we can make the Jump. The ship is powered, the stat fields are powered, the Struven Units are live, and we have eight more hours, ten minutes, and counting, since I have locked everything in on my board. The main board is not engaged."

  The Scout made a hand-sign Jethri was learning to mean no difficulty. "I have been shadowing your work, which has been very straightforward. An excellent way to approach this."

  "All I'm doing is plugging in values. There's not much to it. I'll probably have us in the outer halo for all I know about . . ."

  The Scout laughed out loud. "You are showing true progress. Indeed, all I ask is that we meet the basics on this part of the run. We do have some time constraints on arrival--it appears we'll have less than five days of local transit before we're due in port, after all. This is something we'll work on then, however. I suggest you take a meal and rest; we'll have you at the board for the Jump itself."

  Jethri stood, stretched, looking at the numbers and charts and maps and feeling an odd sense of understanding of what he was looking at, and what he'd done.

  Something changed there, and he got a sense of dread: lights went from red to blue, from yellow to green, from--

  The Scout bowed. "Your board is currently live and working; mine is shadowing. Thank you for your efforts in our behalf, young sir. Please announce yourself as Pilot in Charge and that we're set for Jump. After we Jump I'll set up a proper training schedule for you; we must arrive at Vincza in good order!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  Coyander Kenso at Finifter

  Tan Sim's return to Coyander Kenso waited on another round or two of white wine, or maybe it was the music that kept him, odd as it was, or maybe it was the Coyander itself. He had no other profitable place to go now, though he might see if there was an active entertainment section--

  And he'd made money easily here, which was a surprise, his spec cargo moving with far more alacrity than he'd supposed possible.

  He swirled his glass in meditation, recalling, too, that he ought to report in to the trade hall offices, if only to register his appreciation of the rapid transfers, and drop coin or offer a favor as best fit the office, so that when next he was here he'd be higher on the welcome trader list.

  The musicians broke unexpectedly into song, the three of them, the first sound they'd made aside from their instruments since he'd arrived. Two of the instruments were stringed, and one was beaten with an amazing variety of implements. He'd enjoyed the change from his own keyboarding while understanding that he could easily adapt some of this to . . .

  The singing was in a local dialect he could barely understand, but it was clear that his attention didn't matter to the group, whose energy was rising--well, the song was about a night well spent.

  At least his day had been well spent. He did wish Jethri might have been with him to see the transactions--he would have been quite pleased to see the last of those pod items moved for profit, and much of the pod cleared for incoming paid freight.

  The so-called expansion pod remained one third full--that being the captain's
speculation cargo, remaining unmoved after three ports. Since dea'Blanco insisted on representing it himself it might easily remain as if in stasis for the entire route, the captain seeking to sell it at bars more often than trade halls.

  For himself, he'd made the rounds of three minor exchanges and divested himself of the old goods, asking far too much to begin with--and retaining far too much profit.

  An odd thought that, the "too much prifit" but he'd seen it happen before and knew when it was true--either he'd misplayed the market and could have done much better, or the traders he'd dealt with had been in a generous mode, willing to bow to future gains by encouraging the new-on-port trader to return soon. Seeing the Coyander Kenso doing more than carrying freight for delivery might have shocked them. Certainly the name of Tan Sim pen'Akla had little enough to do with it, though Tan Sim pen'Akla Clan Rinork--

  Ah yes, there might be a truth there. He'd always thought Rinork was a card to be shared carefully, but then Rinork had not always been good to him. Yet when Rinork's famed card was waved forcefully in an off-world trader's face the way Bar Jan was wont to do, why then . . .

  Yes, he'd heard it said that Bar Jan traded more on his clan than his goods--said carefully, it was when Bar Jan and his mother were elsewhere, and not when the speaker knew that the last pen'Akla was about. And he'd wondered, too, what the melant'i and Balance was between Rinork and Kenso's people to make such a bargain as the one that had captured him on a moribund route with a ship with crew and captain so depressed that it was a marvel it had the energy to come out of Jump.