“They are pretty civilized that way,” Joaley conceded, smiling.
“Although the big shots in the Star Federation are not interested in meddling in the internal affairs of the member worlds, not even of those in which Ordinary Citizens are treated as a resource for the benefit of a minority,” Marston added bitterly.
“How is the matter of uniting the people to rebel against the Oligarchy coming along?” Kati inquired. “Is anybody getting the different factions to work together?”
Marston sighed.
“We could use a charismatic leader to pull all the strings into a single skein. We have been plagued by betrayals, and of groups mistrusting one another. There have been instances of Wild Klensers being revealed to the Oligarchs, and therefore forced to join the government’s Klenser cohorts. That’s the worst thing, as far as I’m concerned; the government Klensers are slaves, forced to work for nothing, and treated no better than herd animals!”
“If, in the time that your home has been under surveillance, you or someone else has so much as mentioned the name of any Wild Klenser, inside the house, you would have betrayed that Klenser without even knowing it,” Joaley pointed out.
“Ye gods, you’re right! I could have done that, easily enough! It’s my home, after all; a person talks of things at home that he might be careful not to mention in public places! What’s to be done?”
He rubbed his face with his hands. Joaley and Kati exchanged glances.
“Cary said that we could trust you,” Kati broached carefully. “That you could be trusted absolutely.”
“I’m an active member of the Underground,” Marston said, steadying his voice. “I haven’t been here in Port City all that long, less than a year. I was in The Capital City until then, but things were getting a little testy for me there; I was labelled a ‘troublemaker’ by the powers that be, so my wife and I arranged to come here. A new job at the Port, a new residence; we hoped that the Oligarchs would, if I kept a low enough profile, forget about me.”
“They won’t forget,” Joaley said. “They have nodes to help them remember.”
“Yeah, I didn’t even know about those things until I came here,” Marston said ruefully. “We knew that the Four Hundred Families had special powers, but we believed it when they told us that it was a genetic difference, that they were naturally smarter and more mentally capable than the ordinary Vultairians. Here where every off-worlder is equipped with a node, and freely admits to the advantages that it confers him, they can’t make that pretence.”
“How did you obtain your housing?” Kati asked.
“It’s a City owned rental,” Marston explained. “Most of the homes here are. Only a few Ordinary Citizens own houses, and they are almost all merchants. My wife and I had to go to the Municipal offices, and chose this from a list of available ones. We chose it for the location; it’s close enough to the Port that I can walk to work, and near the business core, so she was able to take a job in one of the shops. The rent’s a bit steep but we manage; further out would have been cheaper but, well, it would have been further out, and getting around in this place is a problem.”
“Yeah, not much in the way of public transport, or transport of any kind, except for the flits that the Exalted zoom around in,” Joaley muttered.
“Once you had chosen the house, did you get to move in right away?” Kati asked.
“No—there was about a week’s lag; they said that the other family had to finish moving out and the City wanted to clean and paint before we went in.”
“Did they clean and paint?”
“Yeah—sort of, I guess. Liss said that they did a lousy job; she redid most of the painting.”
“Well then, they’ve had your home bugged from day one, Marston,” Kati stated. “The Warrions were sent word that you had been tagged as a troublemaker, and they brought in their techs to wire up your rental as soon as they knew which place you and your wife had chosen.”
“So much for being safe in your own house! I don’t know how Liss is going to react to this!”
“Don’t talk about it in the house,” Kati told him. “Go for a walk. Bring her out here. Before we go back to your place I’ll do a walk around this whole lot and have old Granda do a sweep, just to make sure that there’s nothing to worry about here. It tells me that open spaces like this are pretty tough to bug. About the best anyone could do is stick some little recorders on the bushes or drop them on the ground, but that doesn’t make for very good pick-up and bad weather can destroy expensive equipment.
“For now, pretend that you don’t know about the electronics. But whenever there is something important to discuss, do it elsewhere, preferably somewhere outdoors, and open. You’ll want to find another place to live, and when you do, try to get in there quickly, before the Warrions have a chance to bug it.”
Marston nodded.
“Okay,” he said, and then pinned Kati with his eyes. “Now, tell me, why are you doing this? I assume you want something from me?”
“We’re here to work on an informal investigation for the Star Federation Peace Officer Corps,” she replied, after a quick glance at Joaley. “We’re to report on two issues: One, the Klenser situation. Rumours that they are treated as slaves have reached certain concerned people in the Federation. Two, slaves are suspected to have been imported to Vultaire from off-world sources. A Vultairian Exalted couple were caught in The Second City in possession of a child who had to have been bought from a known slave trader. We obtained a statement from the boy, and his story is not pretty.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Marston nearly spat the words. “I could tell you a lot about both those subjects but who would believe my word against that of the Exalted? I’m surprised at that tourist couple. Generally the Exalted are careful to not leave any traces for off-worlders to pick up. Which is why things here in Port City are somewhat better than in other places; the strangers among us have nodes, and therefore can tell tales that will be believed elsewhere.”
“That couple weren’t careless,” Joaley said. “Oh no. I was working as a Second City Peace Officer while they were carousing about the place, and they were very careful to stay just on the right side of the law in all their behaviours, all the time thumbing their noses at us. But their luck ran out. Kati here recognized their supposed adopted child as a racial type that she had seen on the slave ship which had picked her up from her home world, and she knew that there was no way that boy was anything but a slave. So she cried foul, and refused to let the boy out of her sight before the situation had been looked into.
“The incident gave the Head of the Corps’ Human Trafficking Section an excuse to confront the Federation Government, and I believe that she is busy right now organizing an Official Investigation into possible human rights violations on Vultaire.”
“That won’t help us,” Marston said with a shake of his head. “The Exalted will show them what they want them to see. Then the Investigative Team will go back to the Federation Space Station satisfied that all is well here, and the Klensers will go back to work, the imported slaves will do as they’re told and we, the Ordinary Citizens will manage as best we can.”
“That’s where we, The Unofficial Investigative Team, come in,” explained Kati. “We’re here to get proof that violations of Federation law are happening. Then we give our nodal reports to the Official Investigative Team, when they arrive, and all hell should break loose. And since I know the man who is going to be heading the Official Investigation, I can promise you that hell will break loose.”
“Proof? A noded person still has to personally see what’s going on? Am I right about that?” Marston asked.
“Yeah,” Joaley replied. “Kati’s idea is that we travel around the country as itinerant entertainers, and try to stick our noses into anything that looks suspicious. We were kind of hoping that you might point us in the right direction about the suspicious stuff, and maybe direct us to other Underground people who also could help us.”
<
br /> “I can do that. I guess I could make a list of places and people—but could you read it?”
“I can, thanks to old Granda,” Kati answered. “But better write your list somewhere other than at home.”
“Maybe Liss and I will come to Marita’s. I imagine that you have determined that there are no bugs in that building. Tomorrow night—I work an evening shift tonight, and so does Liss, but we’re both off tomorrow. But aren’t you casting suspicions on yourselves by associating with a known troublemaker?”
“Oh, we’ve got cover for that!” Joaley laughed. “How about we talk about the details of that inside your house? Then the spies can listen to their heart’s content, while Kati and I call them paranoid jerks, and they can’t respond in any way without giving the game away!”
*****
Marston agreed very reluctantly to give them access to one of the Customs House consoles, but only for a sizeable sum of money and against Liss’s energetic protests. That was all to the good; The Monk was thrilled with the show.
“Nothing like a little shady dealing to hide a bigger crime,” he subvocalized, and added to Kati’s angry protest: “Yes, yes I agree that the Vultairian Exalted are the real criminals here—but the principle is the same, and it works!”
Marston promised to make the arrangements with a clerk he knew to be on duty that evening. Either Kati or Joaley could have the use of the clerk’s console for a few minutes at eight that night. Mathilde would be singing then at Marita’s; the two women could slip away through the back of the restaurant, and meet Marston outside the Port. Marston would take them in to the Customs through a side door, and lead them to the cooperative clerk.
“We won’t need much time,” Joaley repeated while Liss protested. “We just want to pull some stuff from the Federation Music Archives to use in our show. We didn’t realize that it would be such a hassle—after all, we’re still in Federation territory, far from the Fringes.”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t use the consoles that the Warrions keep for that very purpose,” Liss argued, repeating herself.
“I told you.” Joaley sighed with exaggerated patience. “Some of the local off-worlders warned us not to use those consoles. Not because of the cost—your husband is more expensive—but because the Exalted have bugged them. After a person has used one of them, the Warrions can get a record of every transaction she has ever made using her node; in other words, the story of her life. And I don’t want those paranoid maniacs to know the story of my life, and neither does Kati. We’re both Wilders, which means that we came to Federation territory from the Fringe Worlds, and when you make your way across the Space Lanes from the Fringes, there are times when you do things, go to places, and conduct transactions that are going make a paranoid’s hair stand on end. We’re not criminals, we’re entertainers, but I’m not sure that I trust the Exalted Citizens to know the difference.”
“Liss, you know that we can use the money,” Marston said, taking his wife’s hand into his.
“I know that Mar. It’s just that I’m worried about you; I don’t want you to get into any more trouble. I want us to live a quiet life.”
Marston rolled his eyes but said nothing, merely caressed her hand.
As Joaley and Kati got ready to leave, Marston suggested that he and Liss go for a calming walk outdoors before lunch.
“That woman is going to do a freak out when she finds out that those damn Oligarchs have been monitoring her every move the whole time they’ve been living in that place,” Joaley said once she and Kati were safely outside.
“And I can’t blame her,” sighed Kati. “What’s worse is that she’ll have to pretend that she doesn’t know, to go on living as if everything was normal.”
“The Warrions are damn perverts,” Joaley snapped.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rakil and Lank had been called to Maryse r’ma Darien’s office. They arrived right on time, hoping to hear that arrangements for their trip to Vultaire had been finalized. They were anxious to get going, now that Kati and Joaley had been gone for a six-day Lamanian week.
“We’ve got transport for you,” said Maryse, as soon as the young men had seated themselves. “It’s a miserable crate, I’m afraid, but it’s a short hop from here to Vultaire—even in this particular excuse for a space ship it should take a week at the most. And you’ll have cover; the Captain has agreed that if the two of you won’t accept a drastic pay cut—the pretence is that you’re casual members of the ship’s crew—he’ll drop you off on Vultaire. All that you have to do is howl at the unfairness of it, and you’ll be unceremoniously shown the exit hatch while the vessel’s in Vultairian Space Port. That sort of a thing apparently happens quite often on a certain class of ship, and this crate definitely qualifies.”
“So we get ourselves into Port City, and try to find whatever trail Kati and Joaley have left us,” Rakil said.
“Indeed. And if you have trouble, look up this Marston fellow—Cary’s contact—they are to leave word with him, if they find that they can no longer wait for you.”
“It’ll be good to get going,” Lank said, stretching his body in the chair. “This waiting around has got to be the worst.”
“At least you haven’t had your Aunts and Grandmother harassing you over the communicator,” Rakil groaned. “Has Mikal left, yet?” he then asked Maryse.
“No,” the Director in charge of the Human Trafficking Section of the Federation Peace Officer Corps replied with a chuckle. “We’re in the middle of the process of requisitioning a vessel for the trip. Unlike you two, he’ll be travelling in comfort and style. But he really is the only person I can trust with the Xeonsaurs and he’ll have to travel like a diplomat. He can be pushy and tactful at the same time, and he’s extremely intelligent. With luck, the Xeonsaurs will refrain from treating him like a babe in the woods.”
“Even if they treat him like he’s an annoying gnat, he’ll hang in there, and insist that they listen to his story,” Rakil said with a knowing nod. “He’ll insist on a hearing when he believes that an issue is important enough.”
“And this one is.”
For a moment Maryse looked like a person who is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders; then she visibly shook away the malaise.
“It’s a long trip to the Xeonsaur corner of the galaxy, so I told him that I would try to have the groundwork for the Official Investigation ready by the time he returned,” she added. “So, while you two board the ugly tug and pretend to be crew, I’ll be hob-nobbing with our politicians up on the Space Station. I’ll persuade, coerce, and do whatever else it takes, to get the Senate to approve an Investigation of Possible Violations of Federation Law on the Member Planet Vultaire. You fellows will be having more fun.”
“But you’ll persist until you get your Investigation,” Rakil said, grinning. “With as much tenacity as Mikal will be showing with the Xeonsaurs.”
“True.” Maryse smiled, too. Then she asked: “What did Mikal say to you, anyway? He stormed into my office wanting to know what the hell I thought I was doing sending Kati and some of his family to Vultaire on a clandestine mission? I stared at him: I hadn’t realized that you and he were related. I guess I’d assumed that had he succeeded in recruiting any Borhquans for The Corps, the first stop for that recruit would have been his office.”
Rakil grinned again.
“So I did a decent job of impersonating a ragged refugee from the Borhquan matriarchy, which is more or less the story I told the Social Services at the Transient Housing.”
“Apparently. I suppose that if I’d thought to pay attention to your whole name I would have recognized the words ‘Holanut Tree Family’, since that’s part of Mikal’s name, too, but I’m afraid I did what we Lamanians often do. I just left the names to my node, and ignored them otherwise.”
“Can you do that?” Lank asked, looking surprised.
“You probably can’t; you’re still learning the intricacies of node-ow
nership,” Maryse answered. “Which, often, is just as well. Only, in a job like mine, there’s so much to keep track of, that even a node-enhanced mind starts compartmentalizing, and pushing aside matters that seem to be of little significance.
“But, like I said, the tug will be ready for you to board tomorrow morning. Be sure to meet it at the assigned time.”
*****
Captain Gannon of the Trading tug—Maryse was right, calling his vessel a ship was to ridiculously elevate its status—“Marta” was delighted with the deal he had made with the Federation Official at the Second City Space Port. He received payment for passage for the two fellows he was to transport to Vultaire, plus they would work as crew during the passage. All he, Gannon, had to do in return, was to toss them out of the ship on Vultaire as if there had been a huge difference of opinion about their wages, and he did not object to a reputation as a cheap bastard. As a matter-of-fact, he was a cheap bastard. He had been known to have threatened to pull a stunt like that for real, a time or two, and once he had actually dumped a casual crewmember at a remote Space Port, but that fellow had been a total incompetent.
When the two new “crewmembers” showed up at his ship his joy increased. One of them was a burly Borhquan! The second one was a skinny teen from who knew what Wilder World, but likely he could handle himself in the galley, if he had made his way to Lamania. The Borhquan, however, would have a strong back for cargo; Gannon’s Cargo Master was going to be thrilled, and sorry to see the young man leave on Vultaire. Normally, Manny did all the work of getting cargo off and on the tug himself, and he was not growing any younger. Well, for a short while he would be able to take it easy, and that should straighten out the sour creases on his face for at least a few days. Perhaps Gannon really ought to consider hiring him an assistant—possibly someone in Port City, Vultaire, was desperate enough to leave to sign on to the Marta for a month or two. It was worth looking into.
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 15
