“Well, let’s hope that they won’t get that chance for a long time to come,” Rakil answered.
He did not think that the Marocs’ opportunity would arrive that day. Townsmen were already taking the stage apart. With the help of an additional four men, the job would be quickly finished. By then Joaley and Kati would have settled their account at the Inn, and packed the cart for the next leg of the trip. Kati would have the runnerbeasts harnessed and ready to go, since Morrin had fed and watered the animals. The Troupe would be back on the road long before the Maroc youths had crawled out of their cocoons.
*****
The Troupe spent the weeks between Marocville and the Capital City establishing their reputation as solid and popular entertainers, out to earn a living from their craft while touring a world foreign to them. They meandered along, stopping at every settlement large enough to promise an audience for their show, and some that it would have made more financial sense to skip. At times they detoured into towns that Jock recommended as good stops, but which were not on their direct route.
The travelling kept them busy, although not much of their efforts directly related to the mandate of the Unofficial Investigative Team. Occasionally Kati had to remind one or another of the Team members that their travel was not a waste of time; for one thing, they were getting excellent nodal records of the lives of the Ordinary Citizens, complete with the small humiliations that the Exalted thoughtlessly inflicted on these folk, every day. For another, they were establishing for themselves identities which would not be questioned once they reached the Capital City. After all, would any Oligarch be willing to believe that off-worlders would travel the distance between Port City and the Capital on foot, and make detours while they were at it, just to collect information? They, like the Exalted, would have known much easier lives, and surely would have not chosen to do what they were doing unless they truly wanted to travel by foot and cart, and make music!
*****
“What we in the Peace Officer Corps have been trying to do since Kati and I reached Lamania, is follow the tangled trail of the Slave Trader Gorsh’s affairs,” Mikal r’ma Trodden said to Xoraya Hsiss during their first brainstorming session aboard the Space Cruiser. “Because Gorsh was able to obtain your Life-Mate’s navigational skills, our record is incomplete. I’m hoping that you can fill some of the holes for us.
“I was captured by Gorsh or his operatives on his home planet, known as Wayward. It’s a physically beautiful planet, but not remarkable in any way. Some two hundred years ago, its population managed to buy space-going technology, and briefly joined the Star Federation. This was done under a progressive ruler, but, unfortunately, the planetary government that followed him, let the membership lapse. However, the Federation law-enforcers of those days had information suggesting that many prominent citizens of Wayward had begun to dabble in some of the shadier practises to be found in the Space Trade Lanes, and The Federation Government was persuaded to ignore the lapsing of the membership—including the unpaid dues—in order that the SFPO could keep an eye on things. That is how I came to be sent to Wayward, to ask questions about Gorsh’s sources for his illegal merchandise. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—I was careless enough to get caught, after trying to pump Madame Gorsh for information, which is why I ended up on a slave ship travelling to, and from, very odd places.
“I don’t suppose Wayward was the world on which your husband did his research?”
Xoraya smiled, but shook her head. The gesture looked practised, not really natural yet, but Mikal figured that she was learning fast.
“No, it’s not quite that neat,” she said. “However, the planet that he was on—and I had to push pretty hard to get even this bit of information from the Research Consortium that he was doing his work for—is the one your people know as Tarangay, in the same sector as Wayward, if I have this right.”
Mikal consulted his nodal memory and nodded.
“Tarangay is another lovely world of not much importance to the Space Lanes,” he commented. “An oceanic world; no continents, only chains of islands. They export seafood, some exquisite pearls, and seaweed products.”
“The inhabitants are immensely musical,” Xoraya added, sounding wistful. “The folk music culture is one of the richest in the galaxy. It would have been a wonderful opportunity for study, had I been allowed to go with Xanthus.”
“Apparently Tarangayans who leave their world, also are known for often having an affinity for technology,” Mikal added from his node’s store of knowledge. “Even though they have little of it at home, these people are able to understand the workings of star ship engines and other advanced machinery—and this before they have been implanted with translation nodes. Of course we have known for a long time that scientific and musical abilities often go together.”
“And Tarangay is not a Federation member?” Xoraya raised her eyebrows. A very good gesture, Mikal thought.
“It does sound like someone’s been sleeping at the controls on that one,” he replied with a grin. “Or else the Tarangayans have no interest in membership. My information is not clear about that.”
“But it does explain why it was chosen as the world that Xanthus worked on,” Xoraya mused. “He could have trained the locals to help him if they could work with Xeonsaur technology.”
“Tarangay will definitely have to be checked into. Maybe there are some clues on whatever island your Life-Mate had established himself. I don’t see that world providing much of a market for Gorsh’s wares, though. The little I know about it paints it as a somewhat backward, poor world; no space-going capacity of its own but with a space port or two that cater to Free Traders.”
He set his node to search through its stores for any further mention of Tarangay; it came up with the name Lank. Lank? Wasn’t Lank the musical youth with whom Rakil had teamed up to meet Kati and another young woman, on Vultaire, the four of them forming Maryse’s Unofficial Investigative Team, as well as a Troupe of Entertainers?
Mikal spent several minutes explaining to Xoraya Maryse’s thinking about Vultaire.
“She’s convinced that there’s a connection between Gorsh and the Vultairian elites,” he said. “Kati’s identification of Kerris as a slave who had to have been sold by Gorsh, clinched her theory, and she expects that Kati’s team will come up with further evidence.
“As a matter of fact, before she left Lamania for Vultaire, Kati did come across another connection. Do you know anything about the City Cash Market in The Second City, on Lamania?”
Xoraya smiled.
“Sure,” she said. “Lamanians are smart enough to provide an outlet for the inhabitants’ more unruly, competitive, capitalist tendencies. Hence cities of certain size have Cash Markets, where the usual rules about the residents’ right to goods and services according to their level of contribution to society, are relaxed, and everything is paid for in tokens. The City Cash Market of The Second City is the biggest and most famous of these, partly because The Second City houses the planet’s main Space Port, plus the Shuttle Port to the Space Station, and partly because The Second City is where the great majority of newcomers to Lamania choose to live.”
Mikal grinned, too.
“Sounds like you paid attention in class,” he said. “That about sums it up.
“Kati had reported to Maryse that she had gone to the City Cash Market looking for a stringed instrument which she could quickly learn to play as a member of the Troupe of Entertainers. She had not seen anything suitable in the regular stores, and hoped to find something that might be exotic to Lamanians but of which she could pick up the rudiments, before she and her travel partner, Joaley r’ma Elise made it to Vultaire. While there, she had run into a couple of Vultairian Exalted in the company of one Milla Gorsh, the wife of Captain Gorsh, the Slave Trader. Madame Gorsh was on Lamania to look into the situation of her son, Joakim, whom Kati and I had helped to nab on Makros III, after he had tossed a flash bomb at Kati and her three local companions.”
<
br /> “Ah, yes, that not very nice youth was in her Nodal Record. I gathered that she was furious with him for the destruction that he created, although she and her old Monk were able to save the four intended targets.”
“That’s Kati all over.” Xoraya could hear the pride and the slight amusement in Mikal’s tone. It was really good to spend time with humans in their own environments, she mused. She was starting to pick up nuances.
“The Vultairian couple, it turned out, were from the Vultairian Diplomatic Office on the Federation Space Station,” Mikal added. “Milla Gorsh had contacted them to get help dealing with the bureaucracy of the Federation Law Enforcement system. Why them? And what were they getting in payment for their—questionable—expertise?”
“So you and your boss, this Maryse, are thinking that there is information to be discovered on Vultaire, and you want to find it.”
“Precisely. And if, while we’re at it we can set a fire under some Exalted butts, so much the better; it would certainly improve the Star Federation.”
This time Mikal’s grin was fierce.
*****
The Star Federation Space Station was familiar territory to Mikal from previous dealings with the Federation Bureaucrats. He had memories of functions at which he had found himself surrounded by beautiful women in low-cut dresses, when he was actually trying to attract the attention (and the political support) of a particular Senator. That was where he had learned about charm and flirtation as tools of his trade; a lesson he had often utilized since then.
The Official Investigation into Breaking of Federation Law on a Member Planet in Good Standing required a Senate okay, before it could be organized. Maryse had, without doubt, been busy doing the rounds of government functions, chatting up every non-Vultairian Senator that she could corner. The rule requiring the Senate’s agreement often frustrated directors such as Maryse, but Mikal thought the principle was a good one. It was meant to keep the Federation government from running roughshod over the member worlds; unfortunately, as is often the case, a regulation intended to solve one problem had ended up birthing a host of others.
“Maryse has been here for a while now, drumming up support for an Official Investigation of Vultaire,” he said to Xoraya as they made their way, on foot, from the Station Space Port towards the Officials’ Guest Quarters.
Mikal had had the Cruiser Pilot book rooms for them as soon as they were in message range of the Space Station. He had also asked for news of the Bureau Chief Maryse r’ma Darien, and had been put through to her office in the Second City. There, one of his colleagues informed him that their boss had gone to the Space Station to do the necessary politicking. She had not been expecting to hear from Mikal quite yet.
“She’ll be really pleased that you’re back a little early,” the colleague had told him. “I’ll send a message to her that you’ll meet her on the Station, ready for action. I trust you managed to obtain something useful from Xeon.”
“Oh, I have a pleasant surprise for Maryse,” Mikal had replied. “We’ll be able to make good use of it, I am sure.”
He had explained to Xoraya about the need to get a majority of the Federation Senators to agree to an Official Investigation of Vultaire, and found out that the Xeonsaur woman was fascinated by the prospect of watching from close quarters the process of human politicking. She did not seem in the least worried about the time involved, and how it might slow down her personal quest. Then he had laughed ruefully at himself for his amazement; she was a long-lived Xeonsaur after all. His notions of time were not meaningful to her, and he ought to try to remember that while they worked together.
“So you think that my presence will help sway some of the Senators to vote for the Investigation?” she asked him now as they strolled along the main walkway.
“I’m certainly hoping that that’s so,” he replied. “The Vultairians are good at politicking and not above trading favours and bribes for Senate votes. Since we in the Peace Officer Corps cannot resort to such shady methods, we’ll have to use persuasion. Humans of all stripes are in awe of the Xeonsaurs—for a number of reasons—so it makes sense to use that in our favour. If you support our cause, some Senators will take it as proof of its rightness, and vote for the Investigation.”
“And it’s in my personal interest to support the Investigation, since it will further the efforts that will eventually see me reunited with my Life-Mate,” Xoraya said with a smile. “Isn’t that the way you humans think?”
“More or less,” Mikal agreed. “Although there are moral issues at stake, too. Like the little matter of an established Federation world dabbling in slavery, and doing business with an infamous slave-snatcher.”
Xoraya nodded as she looked about her curiously.
“This Gorsh, I don’t think, quite understands the forces that he is bringing down on himself,” she said.
“Let’s hope, in the short term, that neither does the Vultairian Oligarchic Government.”
They were walking through one of the business districts of the Space Station, this one catering to people like themselves, visitors to the Station. There were restaurants and bars around them, interspersed with gift shops, and others selling clothing and personal care items. There were games rooms, fantasy suites, and sex shops; a few flower shops and a couple of old-fashioned book stores completed the list which Mikal had formulated over earlier visits. The area reminded him of the City Cash Market in the Second City, only the customers did not have to bother to obtain tokens before making purchases, and anything the residents of Lamania bought here would be counted against their credit balance on the planet.
“A commercial district,” Xoraya commented, gazing about avidly. “Such areas are always very interesting to a student of cultures. You can tell a lot about a society by simply walking through its commercial district.”
“I believe you,” Mikal replied. “This place, for example, is very different from the Port Town on Borhq, my late father’s world. On Borhq the Tree Families provide their members with pretty nearly all necessities of life, so there’s not much need for commercial transactions on an individual level. The importers of off-planet goods deal mainly with the representatives of the Tree Families, and most of their wares are shipped in large lots to the clans making the purchases. But, of course, where there’s a Port, there are crews and travellers; thus even a small place like the Port Town has a sprinkling of taverns and restaurants, as well as places to buy necessities and curios. And there are hostels and entertainment venues, including, the last I heard, a brothel staffed by Medovites of both sexes.”
“Medovites of both sexes?” Xoraya queried with genuine curiosity. “I know of brothels, of course. But Medovites, that’s a new one to me. Are they noted for the amorous arts?”
“Actually, no.” Mikal chuckled. “Borhquans are noted for the ‘amorous arts’ as you call them. The Medovites are known for their willingness to trade sex for consideration, coin for wherever coins are the form of fiscal exchange, but whatever passes for credit locally, and can be transferred off-world.”
“Interesting. Is their home planet a Federation member?”
“No, indeed.
“Medovia is a Fringe World, a sparsely populated, poor world, I understand, and until recently, totally ignored by most of the others, in our corner of the Galaxy. However, Free Traders have been going there for quite some time now, and although they did not find all that much in the way of items that they could profit by, they did discover that the Medovites had few scruples when it came to sex, and were perfectly willing to lie with any and all comers who would make it worth their while. These people seem to feel no jealousy the way the rest of us humans do; a woman is perfectly happy to offer up a night with her husband to another woman if she’ll pay with something that the first one desires. And the Medovite men discovered quickly that lonely men of other worlds often paid what seemed to them royal sums for the privilege of an uninterrupted hour or two with their wives, who in no way objected
.
“Since Borhquans with their famed ‘amorous art’ capabilities, actually take emotional aspects of sex very seriously, setting up a brothel in Port Town with local talent was not possible. Someone, however, came up with the notion of bringing in some Medovites to staff one. We’re talking families, apparently, couples with children, happy to be somewhere where they get well paid for work that they consider easy. And the lonely folk on the ships making stops on Borhq are satisfied, too. Or, so I’ve been told.”
“So does that mean that the sex shops here on this station are also staffed by these Medovites?” Xoraya asked.
“Oh yes. Once again, easy earnings for the Medovites, as well as a chance to spend some time in a sophisticated environment. I’ve talked with some of them on occasion; interestingly enough, many of them harbour the ambition of earning enough loot to trade for a patch of ground on their home world, build a cabin, and start a garden.”
“Does that mean that you’ve taken advantage of the service they provide?” Xoraya asked, smiling impishly.
He laughed.
“Sorry to disappoint you but no.” Then he added with more seriousness: “Although I might have had to resort to that, had I stayed married to my ex-wife, the lovely but asexual Lashia.” He shuddered. “Or had to book the services of Lamanian Comforters.”
Fortunately Lashia had had the good sense to divorce him. And he had run off to Borhq for comfort from the woman who had taught him the Borhquan ‘amorous arts’. She had been kind enough to take him in, and give him what he needed to regain some self-esteem and sanity. And later, he had met Kati who had saved him from the slave ship, and the two of them had fallen in love on the long trek back to civilization.
How much of all this Xoraya knew, he was not certain. Probably a lot; she had seen Kati’s Nodal Record from the time on Makros III, and his marriage and divorce was on the public record, accessible to anyone curious enough to check. Xoraya, as a student of humanity, no doubt was curious enough.
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 44
