Hermes shook his head. “I doubt it. I do not know the gods you refer to but I can’t see what connection the Commission would have with Earth.”
“It was just a daft thought. What did you find out?”
“Ah. It might be as you thought. I have persuaded someone to look into it.”
Flerrionna was looking at us enquiringly.
“Hermes has been making some enquiries about Sir Inner-Piety.”
Hermes brought her up-to-date. At the end she looked serious.
“That might explain some of the reactions I had. I had a bit of flack about allowing wild animals in my hotel.”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you were involved in the first place.”
She touched my hand briefly. A little shiver ran up my spine.
“Don’t apologize. What I allow and don’t allow in my hotel is my business.”
“But surely, if they were to take their business elsewhere…”
“Wouldn’t bother me at all. In truth it’s difficult to prove if the cost of this…” she waved a hand around, “…generates enough additional business. We are the oldest hotel in Bartimarm. In fact we’re the oldest hotel on Geretimal. I don’t think we’d suffer much if we didn’t house the Lottery Winner.”
“You had to pay for this yourselves?”
“That’s the way it works. The Lottery Commission have no money themselves, or so they claim, so everything is sponsored by companies and individuals.”
“No wonder it’s corrupt, then.”
“Perhaps. However, I managed to persuade them that, wild animals or not, they were about to lose a Lottery Winner if they didn’t do something about it and quick.”
“How did you do that?” Hermes asked admiringly.
“I attacked on two fronts. First I suggested that Crawford was about to pack his bags and head for home if they procrastinated and secondly, I suggested they do a bit of research into the effect of x-rays on his metabolism?”
“How could they do that?” I asked. “Earth’s not exactly a well-known planet.”
Hermes looked smug. “You don’t think that was the first time I’d visited your planet, do you? Before you make yourself known to a Lottery Winner, you need to do a lot of research into a place to determine the local mores and customs. If your approach is not right, you are likely to get the door slammed in your face.”
“You almost did anyway.”
His smile was rueful. “That blasted translator.”
“It was the translator that saved you. If you’d announced off the bat, in English, that I’d won the Lottery, you would have had the door slammed in your face. The fact that you started spouting gibberish and kept thumping the side of your head kept me interested.”
“Oh. I’d better remember that for next time.”
“There might not be a next time if this one isn’t sorted out in a hurry,” Flerrionna said.
“Good point,” Hermes said. “What was the outcome of your threats?”
“They promised someone would be along as soon as possible and a new itinerary would be arranged.”
“Excellent. I took a different line. I knew Sir Inner-Pity had friends and he needed to cover his ass in a hurry so I knew he would go straight to them and try to stir up trouble, probably using some sort of smoke screen like the cats. What I did was plant some doubts about things in a few ears and call in a few favours. I managed to prove that the contract I had with Crawford that stipulates no sightseeing tour of Geretimal, had not been honoured. That was enough to start the ball rolling. I hope enough dirt will be uncovered that will make life very uncomfortable for Sir Inner-Piety and his cronies. I am especially angry about the girls.”
“Girls?”
“Crawford speculated that, if the Lottery organisation was getting kickbacks to control what he wore, where he went, what he did, hell, even what he ate, then the same was probably true of the girls competing for the breeding program.”
“That’s terrible.”
Hermes nodded grimly. “In a way it’s even worse because it ruins the purpose of the breeding programme… which is why the Lottery exists in the first place. The girls are supposed to be chosen on their genetic similarity to the winner and must be genetically healthy, and so on. That way the scientists can study the offspring for clues as to what makes a Lottery Winner. If any tart can buy her way in…”
I felt slightly sick. “And it might not just be money. In our entertainment industry it’s legion that aspiring stars get into the business by, er, bestowing sexual favours.”
“Bestowing… Oh, you mean they fuck their way in,” Flerrionna said.
I nodded, a bit shocked at her crude language. “Yes, and worse.”
Flerrionna patted my hand. “This may be a religious society but that doesn’t mean it’s prudish. After all, what is the purpose of the breeding programme?”
I found I was blushing. “Well… Yes.”
Hermes was laughing. “I don’t think Crawford has quite come to terms with the fact that he is going to be having sex with some of the most beautiful girls in the galaxy with the express purpose of getting them pregnant.”
“And not just them,” Flerrionna murmured and blushed.
The door chimed so I didn’t have time to consider the implications of her comment. Realising she might have said more than she should have, Flerrionna leapt to her feet and answered it. She ushered in two men, one an older and distinguished-looking Capellan, his elaborately coiffed shock of hair greying at the temples, and the other much younger and not a Capellan and looking very nervous. Hermes stood to greet them, looking impressed, so I followed. The older man extended his ID card. Of course I couldn’t read it.
“Your picture doesn’t do you justice,” I said, handing it back. “And, of course, I can’t read your language.”
“What? Oh, of course. I am Sir Innate-Godliness Sacred-Trust-in-God and I have the misfortune to be the Chairman of the Lottery Commission.”
Upon instinct I bowed deeply. “I’m honoured to meet you.”
“Hrmph. Yes. I’m not sure I can say the same. This is Sir Blaggis Hringe. I will explain his role in a moment.”
I wasn't all that enamoured with his attitude but nodded and indicated the settees. “Will you sit?”
He did. Blaggis Hringe, Flerrionna and I also sat while Hermes cleared the table.
“You know you’ve caused us a fair bit of trouble, young man,” he began.
I stood. “Will it be necessary for Madam Pressicallita to call security again or will you see yourselves out.” Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God turned scarlet. He opened his mouth to speak but I plunged on. “I haven’t caused you any trouble at all. You have caused me trouble… a great deal of it. Any troubles you are having are of your own making. So far I have been brow-beaten, lied to, coerced and an attempt has been made to kill me. That’s attempted murder in my book.”
“Kill you? Nonsense. No-one has tried to kill you. Sir Inner-Piety was right, you are insane.”
I leaned over and thrust my face close to his. “Insane am I? Do you know what will happen if I spend any time outdoors?”
His assistant was tugging at his sleeve. I stood back to let the young man whisper into his boss’s ear. I caught Hermes’ eye. He was looking solemn but winked at me. The bastard was enjoying this.
“What? I don’t believe it.” More urgent whispering. “That can’t be true. Why wasn't I informed of this?”
I didn’t envy the assistant. I knew fine well why he hadn’t been told but wouldn’t like to be the minion who told him. When the whispering finished, Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God’s face was livid. He looked at me but found he couldn’t meet my eyes.
“Sir,” I said quietly. “Unlike some with pious-sounding names, I am a forgiving man. If you would care to step outside, perhaps we could start again.”
“Start again? Oh, yes. Quite.”
He rose unsteadily to his feet. Flerrionna went with him. She held her hand up briefly with fingers e
xtended. I assumed she meant five minutes and nodded.
“Remind me never to make you angry,” Hermes said.
“It’s hardly funny. This is my life we’re talking about.”
He held up a pacifying hand. “Sorry.”
“I am, too. It’s not your fault. I could do with a drink.”
“Water? Coffee?”
“Much stronger. Scotch. Brandy. Vodka. Alcohol. An intoxicating drink.”
“What’s over there?” he said, indicating the bar.
To my surprise, it was a real bar. I found a bottle of Scotch, a twelve-year-old malt, opened it and sniffed. It certainly smelt like a malt.
“It’s real,” Hermes said.
I poured a generous amount and took a slug. The liquid burned its way down my throat.
“That’s better. Hell of a way to treat a good whisky, though. All right, who is he?”
“What he said; the Chairman of the Lottery Commission.”
“He seemed to be a pal of Inner-Piety.”
Hermes shook his head. “I do not think so. He is a pompous fool but I don’t think he is dishonest. I suspect Sir Inner-Piety’s colleagues nobbled him. Convinced him of their story before my friends could get to him.”
“What happens now?”
He shrugged. “Damned if I know. There has never been a situation like this before to my knowledge.” He grinned suddenly. “You remember you said something about turning things to your advantage? This could be your opportunity.”
“How so?”
“Well, someone has tried to kill you, not deliberately perhaps, but you would have been just as dead. What do you think it would be worth for you not to make that information public?”
“I wouldn’t, anyway.”
“But they don’t know that. Listen, Crawford, if you had not been a nasty, suspicious human what would have happened? You would have followed their itinerary like a good little being and then, some time later… months, possibly years, you would have started feeling unwell, and so on. Not a lot of point in complaining then. Also the fuss would have died down so they would be able to hush it up. Damn, the other Winners who died. I wonder what they died of.”
“You said they committed suicide.”
“Yes, but why. Could they have had an incurable disease, perhaps?”
“Shit. You don’t mean…?”
He nodded. “I do. As soon as I have contact with Dear again, I’ll do some investigating.”
“Let me know the results, will you?”
“Certainly. That is, if I still have Dear.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“I have nailed my colours pretty firmly to your mast. I’m likely not to have a job.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said casually. “I can’t fly a spaceship.”
“You don’t need to. The ibic does that.”
“Possibly, but to my primitive way of thinking, a ship should have a pilot.”
“You couldn’t afford me.”
“Didn’t someone say something about turning things to my advantage?”
“You are not only suspicious, you’re devious.”
“I’m doing my best. I feel as if I’ve fallen into a nest of vipers. I’m allergic to snake bite.”
“That’s my man.”
“Where are the cats, by the way?”
“Locked in the bedroom.”
“Good idea.”
The door chimed. I opened it to find the Lottery Chairman, his flunkey and Flerrionna.
The Chairman cleared his throat. His expression was a mixture of chagrin, suppressed anger and embarrassment.
“Good afternoon, Sir MacAdam. I am Sir Innate-Godliness Sacred-Trust-in-God, the Chairman of the Lottery Commission. I hope you will forgive the intrusion but I felt I should come in person to try to clear up the unfortunate misunderstanding about your itinerary.”
“Sir Chairman,” I said, bowing. “I am honoured to meet you. Please come in. I’m sure we can sort this out to our mutual satisfaction.” He came in looking grateful that I was playing the game. “Please, take a seat. Can I offer you some refreshments?”
“That would be pleasant.”
I was now at a loss for I had no idea what to offer him.
“I’ll see to it,” Flerrionna said. “Coffee for you, Crawford?”
“Please.”
She took the others’ orders and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Erm,” the Chairman began. “It has been brought to my attention that there are some, er, irregularities in your itinerary. I have reviewed it and have some suggestions.”
“Go ahead.”
“It was originally proposed that you should dine with the Board tonight. Due to… complications it seems that will not be possible. I apologise most sincerely and hope you will not be too discommoded.”
“That is a great shame. I was looking forward to meeting the ladies and gentlemen who, albeit indirectly, have made my trip here possible. Perhaps it could be rescheduled for a later date?”
“That would certainly be possible.”
“Good.”
“Tomorrow will be as originally planned. With the eyes of the galaxy upon us, it is imperative the ceremony goes without a hitch and a certain amount of rehearsal is required.”
“I would expect no less.”
“Excellent.” He was visibly relaxing. “A car will be sent for you at 8am.”
“A question if I may. I assume I’ll be required to make an acceptance speech. How long should it be?”
He looked at his minion. “No more than two minutes.”
“Thank you. Do you have any guidelines as to how it should be phrased? I mean, on my planet…,” well, in Britain, at least, “…it’s customary to start with ‘Ladies and gentlemen’ or ‘my Lords, ladies and gentlemen’ or something like that.”
The minion cleared his throat. “It would be helpful if you named the President and the Chairman and, if possible, the gods.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“Certainly. For example, ‘Sir President, Sir Chairman, members of the Board, my Lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is by the grace of all the gods that I address you tonight’. That would be sufficient.”
“I think I could manage that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“On that topic, have you given any consideration to the contents?” the Chairman said.
“Not really. I may not mention being dragged from my bed in the middle of the night and bundled on board a space-ship. I may also not mention that a number of critical conditions were not explained before I signed the contract. Oh, do not put the blame on Hermes,” I said as their eyes swivelled to him. “He was only doing his job and I cannot fault him personally for the manner in which he executed it. No, it is clear that he was not permitted to inform me. However, moving on… I may also not mention that my explicit instructions about not being exposed to the rays of Capella were wilfully ignored. The consequences of which would have resulted in a long, painful and lingering death. I may also not mention the shameful way I’ve been treated by the representatives of the Board since my arrival.” I paused. “Mind you, if I don’t mention any of them, I’ve got little else to say. It could be a short speech.”
The Chairman was looking pale about the gills. “You wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t I? Why not? If I hadn’t been suspicious and I hadn’t done my homework I would have walked out into that sunshine. Do you know what it’s like to die of radiation poisoning? First your hair falls out. Then your skin begins to rot. Then your insides start to malfunction. Your immune system fails, you stop eating. You lose weight until you’re little more than a walking corpse. You are in constant agony; pain that cannot be relieved even with the strongest painkillers. Eventually… you die. If you are lucky and receive a very high dose this can be a matter of days. If you’re unlucky, it can take years. Just imagine that; living all these years and seeing your body rot before your eyes.” I had
no idea if this was all true but I was on a roll. “Is that what you wish me to thank you for Sir Chairman? Should I be grateful for a long, agonising death made possible by the greed of your minions and your inability to manage them?”
I was breathing heavily. Flerrionna was looking positively ill, Sir Hringe looked like he might puke at any moment. Even Hermes was looking none too happy. The Chairman looked like he’d been hit by an express train.
“I had no idea,” he whispered at last.
“That’s exactly the problem, Sir Chairman… you had no idea.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Hermes. He was signalling me to calm down. I drew a ragged breath.
“Well, what’s done can’t be undone, as my Granny used to say. The question is, what do you intend to do about it?”
He, too, drew a ragged breath and composed himself. We began to dicker. Flerrionna moved quietly beside Hermes. I could just see them in my peripheral vision. I watched them without taking my eyes off the Chairman. As he made an offer they would make gestures as to whether I should accept or reject it. By the end, the Chairman was sweating.
“We are agreed, then?” he said tiredly.
“We are.”
“There’s just one more thing. In return for these concessions, I must ask you to sign an affidavit absolving the Commission from any blame in this matter.”
I didn’t need both Hermes’ and Flerrionna’s frantic gestures to reject this one.
“Not acceptable, Sir Chairman, for I hold the Commission entirely responsible. However, I am prepared to sign an affidavit swearing that I will consider the matter closed and undertake to make no further claims for compensation provided you sign one guaranteeing that neither the Commission nor any of its employees, past or present, nor anyone hired by the Commission or its employees, past or present, will knowingly put me in a position where my safety is endangered.”
“I cannot agree to that. This is blackmail. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of others, be they employees or not.”
“It’s not blackmail, Sir Chairman, it’s insurance. If I was to meet with an unfortunate accident, say I just happened to fall from the top of tall building, I would be most unhappy. I would be even more unhappy if it was discovered that an employee of the Commission had induced me into a position which they knew was unsafe but I didn’t or someone had been paid to make sure that I fell.”
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