Blue Powder dropped at the given co-ordinates. Clay gave a sigh of relief that the equations provided had put them exactly where they wanted to be. A planet hung in the distance, and its station broadcast its identity on the given frequency.
He turned to Colleen. “Pallinteth Station. Right where it should be, right on time.”
She smiled back at him. “I guess we should call them up.”
“Hello. Station Manager Portash speaking,” came the voice of the Damarg in Pagayat, in answer to their hail – also in Pagayat.
“Clayton Yrden, Captain of Family Trading League tradeship Blue Powder, here at the invitation Hittorsh Company.”
“You are expected, Captain Yrden of Blue Powder. Please follow the course given in the packet we will send. Come to a relative stop twenty kilometers from our station at the given co-ordinates.”
Clay smiled into the vid camera. “Thank you Station Manager Portash. We will comply. May we send our manifest to your trade desk so that your traders can peruse what we bring?”
The Damarg seemed to glare into the camera.
“This you will not do. When you have docked, we will send across our Customs team to inspect your cargo. After they have cleared it, you may send to Trade Desk. Only after they have cleared it. Is this understood?”
Well, they hadn’t come across anything like that before. “Yes, Station Manager Portash, we understand. We will not send our packet until after Customs has cleared our cargo.”
“Report when you have reached given co-ordinates. Pallinteth Station out.”
“Hardly the most friendly greeting we have ever experienced,” Colleen opined. “And they gave us no frequency to contact their trade desk in order to solicit a list of traders or to ask of what goods they have to trade.”
“We’d better let Minda and our guests know. Well, at least they will get a couple of extra hours of sleep.”
* * *
“Here comes their shuttle with Customs,” Colleen said. “I guess we should go to meet the representatives of our gracious hosts.”
Clay laughed. “Let us go, then.”
Mr Telford joined them at the airlock, armed, though Clay thought it unwarranted. When four armed guards preceded the two customs agents, he rethought that.
The Damargs stood as tall as humans, with variations among the six. All had hairless heads, mostly brown, but with black patches, some softly delineated, others with sharp straight lines, as if drawn with a ruler. These were the first that the humans had seen up close and in person. At Daiovan, they had received the lists electronically.
“Clayton Yrden,” he introduced himself. “My wife, Colleen Yrden. Mr Adrian Telford.”
The customs agents merely grunted. “Bortart, Customs. Manifest.”
His right eye had black skin around it, and a lightning-bolt shaped black patch cover ran down one cheek.
Clay handed over the reader, set to the Pagayan language.
“I will check the holds, my partner will go over the rest of the ship.”
“Why?”
“To ensure no crew nor passenger bring prohibited items.”
Telford made a wry face. “Passengers are going to love that.”
“Hold Number 1,” Bortart ordered.
“One moment, please. I’ll call for an escort for your partner.” He turned to Telford. “Call Jackson.”
“This way, gentle people,” Clay offered, after Jackson Pelburn had arrived and taken the second official under his wing. He and Colleen led the way to Number 1 Hold, where the Treverston and Paxton goods lay.
The Customs official matched each pallet with the manifest, crosschecked with his own reader, and then certified them as acceptable.
“Hold Number 1 contains only goods on the acceptable list,” Bortart allowed.
“That seemed easy,” Clay said to Colleen in English.
“Speak only Pagayat,” the Customs officer said.
“Touchy,” murmured Telford too low for Customs to hear.
“I merely said that we appreciate your thoroughness,” Clay said, switching to Pagayat. “Hold Number 2 lies this way.”
To his surprise, the Customs official sealed Hold Number 1 with tape. “To ensure nothing gets added to Hold Number 1,” he explained.
Clay traded a look with his companions, but said nothing.
They ran into trouble in Hold Number 4. The official compared the manifest with his reader, and suddenly stopped work.
“You will come with me to Pallinteth Station,” he said, indicating both Clay and Colleen.
“May we ask why?” Colleen asked, deferentially.
“You have brought prohibited items into Damarg space. You will answer to Station Manager Portash.”
“What items?” Clay wanted to know.
“You will speak with Station Manager Portash,” Bortart repeated.
“You’re not going over there,” Telford said.
Immediately the two guards produced weapons, and pointed them at Telford.
“We warned you to speak only Pagayat,” Bortart said, glaring.
One guard switched his aim to Clay, who noticed that Telford had begun to take a ready stance – one that he recognized from when he and Colleen sparred.
“Stand down, Mr Telford,” Clay said carefully in Pagayat. He turned to Bortart. “Inspector Bortart, we will gladly accompany you to see Station Manager Portash. You do not require drawn weapons.”
However, the weapons, now out, stayed out.
“Back to airlock,” Bortart ordered.
They met the other inspector there, who seemed to have had no problems. But when he saw weapons drawn, he gave a curt order, and his two guards drew theirs as well.
“You will enter our shuttle,” Bortart stated.
“We just need to inform the bridge,” Clay said.
“You will enter our shuttle now.” And weapons, suddenly pointed, emphasized his demand.
“We will enter the shuttle now,” Colleen agreed, and stepped forward.
“Not you,” Bortart said, holding up his hand to Telford, who stepped forward with the others.
Clay saw him look to Colleen. Telford tensed, and his eyes went flat.
“Mr Telford, stand down!” Clay ordered, voice harsh and commanding, even in the fluid Pagayan tongue.
“Inform the bridge, please, Adrian,” Colleen said mildly.
Telford bit back any words he had been about to speak, turned and stalked off. Clay relaxed. Bortart didn’t know how close he’d come to losing his life.
“Jackson,” Clay said to the security man. “These officials have sealed the holds. Ensure that no one breaks those seals.”
“Yes, sir.” Jackson eyed the Damargs grimly.
“Let us go, Inspector Bortart,” Clay suggested, and walked through the airlock into the Damarg shuttle.
The shuttle kicked off and made the short journey to Pallinteth Station.
“This isn’t good,” Colleen said in English, mainly to see what reaction their guards would take to their captives speaking in a language they didn’t know. No one seemed to object in the least.
“I guess they just feared our passing on some order to our crew to attack them. Now that we’re in their custody, they don’t care.” Again she spoke in English, and again no one objected.
“You will follow us,” Bortart stated, and led off.
The two Yrdens followed the customs inspectors. Behind them, walked the four guards, weapons still at the ready.
“They must think us quite the dangerous pair,” Clay said.
Bortart picked up the pace in what felt like point nine gravity. Colleen and Clay walked faster to keep up.
They passed a screening station, whose guards came to attention when the inspectors went by.
The Yrdens, however, had to submit to the scanners. Declared clean, they proceeded down a long hall, hopefully to get the mess straightened out by the station manager.
* * *
“This is a travesty, C
lay,” Colleen said, anger growing in her. To be taken for common criminals, when they had done nothing wrong, rankled.
“Gently, Colleen. We’ll likely find out that someone made a mistake. Remain calm and we’ll get through this. Get angry and they may find ways to make our stay even more unpleasant.”
“Station Manager’s office,” Bortart said as they approached a room with a counter just inside.
“So, these are our smugglers?” Manager Portash asked in Pagayat. “What species are they? Have they requisite intelligence to know the charges.”
The requisite intelligence? Colleen burned. She let Clay take the lead, knowing that her temper might cause problems.
“My name is Clayton Yrden, Captain of the Family Trading League tradeship Blue Powder. We call our species, Human. It appears that someone has made a mistake.”
The station manager glared at him. “That person appears to have been you. You’ve brought cindra berry juice into Damarg space in contravention of our laws of prohibition.”
Colleen gaped at him. The cindra berry juice?
“Sir,” Clay said, due deference in his voice. “When we checked with the Damarg Trade Desk on Daiovan, cindra berry juice did not inhabit the list of prohibited goods. In fact, it ranked high on the list of commodities that the Damarg Regime welcomed.”
Portash stood taller, taller even than Clay, and huffed. “If true, it appears that Daiovan either had not received the updated list when you left, or had received it and failed to distribute it. In either event, that’s not my problem. You have contravened regulations. We have seized the shipment, and we now must decide upon the penalty.”
If true? Colleen seethed, but kept her face and voice calm. “And what does that penalty entail, if I might ask, Station Manager Portash?”
“That depends. It can range as low as a minor fine, as high as confiscation of your ship and imprisonment of its crew for up to five years.”
He looked from one to the other.
“Did you intend to bring cindra berry juice into Damarg space?”
Clayton shook his head. What a stupid question. “Of course we intended to bring it. We just told you that it ranked high on the list of acceptable comestibles – according to the Damarg Trade Desk.”
“That is not good,” Portash said. “You, then, deliberately brought prohibited items into Damarg space.”
Colleen closed her eyes. “We didn’t deliberately bring prohibited items, we accidentally brought prohibited items. If we had known they were prohibited, we wouldn’t have brought them.” She couldn’t believe the denseness of this manager. How had he obtained his position?
“You would say that now. Officers, take them to the cells.”
Cells?
“Clay, can’t we do anything, warn Blue Powder, even tell them they may have to make a run for it?” She spoke in English.
A Damarg who had stood nearby at another counter station, turned to them.
“That would not be wise,” the Damarg said in English. “But perhaps I can help.” He switched to Pagayat. “Station Manager Portash, perhaps I can be of assistance here.”
That worthy had no intention of allowing this. “You should stay out of what you do not understand.”
“I am Korsh, of the Hittorsh Company. You recognize the name, do you not?” The Damarg said, not backing down in the slightest.
Both Clay and Colleen put their full attention on him. The Hittorsh Company; the ones who had invited them.
Portash instantly backed down, and asked an unexpectedly reasonable question. “Why would Hittorsh want to involve itself, sir?”
“Because Hittorsh extended the invitation to the Yrden ship,” the Damarg named Korsh said. “Thus, we have a stake in whether or not our invited guests are smugglers. Personally, I cannot believe this. What do you claim they are smuggling?”
“Cindra berry juice.”
Korsh sounded surprised. “But that seems unlikely. All stores of high repute carry this item.”
Finally! Someone who could reason. Colleen felt her anger fading. This would all work out after all.
Portash turned his screen around to show Korsh. Colleen peered at it, but couldn’t read the writing. Damargian. “See: cindra berry juice. Prohibited.”
Korsh turned to them, and spoke in English. “I would wager one of our tradeships that this will not stand. Cindra berry juice should not find itself on the prohibited list.”
Colleen smiled at him. “I certainly hope you are correct.”
“I know I am. Stay calm, and we’ll work this out.” Korsh switched back to Pagayat. “Station Manager, it seems obvious to me that your list contains an error and that these good traders are not at fault. Nonetheless we must ensure that no one flouts our laws. May I suggest that instead of sending these two to the cells, you allow them to accompany me to my quarters? I will sign for them and accept any penalty should they leave my custody.”
The station manager said nothing, so Korsh continued.
“I will send a query to my company to get to the bottom of this. It should not take more than a few days. In the meantime, I see no reason why the human traders should not be allowed to conduct trades. If we discover that they are indeed at fault, we can confiscate any goods or moneys they have received for those non-prohibited goods should the penalties demand it.”
Portash hemmed and hawed for a bit. Then he drew in a deep breath.
“Agreed. You will accept full responsibility. And the cindra berry juice will remain in our custody until your query gets answered.”
“Of course, I would expect nothing less. Come, get the documents ready.” He turned to the humans and switched to English once more. “Have no fear, friends, you will be acquitted of any wrongdoing. Until then, however, you must come with me. I have comm access, and you can talk to your people on your ship. Let them know it’s just a bureaucratic foul-up.”
“Thank you, Mr Korsh,” Clay said. He held out his hand. “I’m Clay Yrden, and this is my wife Colleen.”
The Damarg held out his hand to her, which felt warm, but hard. No soft trader here. Then again, Colleen thought, perhaps all Damargian hands felt like that.
“Good to meet you, Mr and Ms Yrden. My company sent me word you would come this way, and I have orders to contact you. But we didn’t expect you so soon. My apologies for what has happened. Ah, the documents.”
He signed for them. And Portash stamped them with an official-looking stamp.
“Thank you, Station Manager. Mr Yrden, Ms Yrden, if you will accompany me?”
He led them down the hallway to a lift.
“Stay in good spirits,” Korsh told them. “My quarters – well, my company’s quarters – have many spare rooms where you may stay. It should hardly inconvenience you at all. And you can make contact with other traders, including those of my company, and conduct business either by comm or in person.”
“We’re very grateful for your help, Mr Korsh,” Colleen said.
“Not at all. This should never have happened.” Korsh shook his head, human style. “Cindra berry juice. The Station Manager should have questioned that himself.”
CHAPTER 15
Blue Powder
Minda Yrden sat in the captain’s chair studying her trade goods manifest when Adrian Telford stalked onto the bridge in a cold rage.
“They took them both,” he said, voice without inflection.
“Who took who both?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“The Damargs took Mr and Ms Yrden, Colleen and Clay. Said we had contraband.”
“What?” She closed her screen, and looked at the shuttle just about to enter Pallinteth Station.
“They drew weapons. Mr Yrden told me to stand down.”
And he didn’t like that, she could see. She wondered if she could hold back an angry Telford, stop him from doing something that they all would pay for.
Telford stared at her out of eyes gone flat and emotionless. “Get the ship ready to run,” he said. “I
don’t like what happened.”
“You’d leave them behind?” she asked, shocked. Others had turned to see what her decision would be.
A grim smile came to Telford’s lips. “No.” Flat, but remorseless.
Minda shuddered inside. She remembered the stories of Liberty Station, where Telford had apparently run amok, killing those who had threatened Clay and Colleen. She had never really believed. Today, she believed. Yes, he would send the ship away to protect crew and passengers – living a decade with the Yrdens would have inculcated that in him. But he wouldn’t leave. He would invade Pallinteth Station and wreak havoc until they found and killed him.
She had to prevent that. They knew too little at the moment.
“What contraband?” she asked. Everything they brought fit the Damarg’s acceptable list.
“I don’t know; they wouldn’t say. Something in Hold Number 4.”
With Clay and Colleen gone, that left her in command.
“Very well, Mr Telford, we will prepare to leave. But that’s it – prepare. We will wait for further developments. You will remain on board.”
He looked at her, and a shiver went down her back.
“You will stay on board. Do you understand?”
“Until we see how the situation develops,” he said.
She breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off the bridge.
“Get me Pallinteth Station. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
Pallinteth Station did not aid them in getting to the bottom if it.
“This matter is under adjudication,” came the reply, without stating what ‘this matter’ consisted of. “Any attempt by Blue Powder to move without permission, or any breaking of the seals for the holds will be seen as an acknowledgment of guilt. Pallinteth Station out.”
Now Minda knew how Telford felt. A rising cold anger enveloped her, too. She called down to Engineering.
“Yvonne? Minda. The station has arrested Clay and Colleen. They refuse to tell us why. Prepare Blue Powder for an immediate departure. If we damage their station on the way out, so be it.”
“Immediate departure?” Yvonne sounded shocked. “We’re running? Without Clay and Colleen?”
One Trade Too Many Page 12
