Chapter 5
The Commandant had been rambling on non-stop. Zeer looked at him and nodded, but really had tried not to listen. The old Frog finally ended his boring tale, "I, myself, was awarded this post for that action. I worked here many cycles before we found Quallium. I have worked very hard here to make this post a success."
"That fat Frog never did a lick of work in his life."
"I see that you paid your entry fee with Quallium. Do you have more? No one is allowed to posess any Quallium, Nez Pas?"
“I have a tiny stash.” Zeer brought out his meager stash of tiny slivers and chips. He poured them onto the measuring space.
"Not very good stuff.."
He looked at Zeer with a blank stare. Fondling a few of the larger pieces, the Frog looked at him and flicked his tongue across his eyes to wet them. “Is that all?”
Zeer took the pouch again and turned it inside out over the measuring device to show that he had no more. At seeing that, the commandant ceased acting like a statue of himself, "Ah, now we can do business."
The commandant took a heavily jeweled Zingani Dance knife out of a flat drawer in front of him. He began separating the Quallium into piles. He handed Zeer a voucher for land rental to park the traveler for a week. One pile disappeared into a hole in his desk.
"Convenient... let's watch the sissy cut himself in. hee, hee, hee, ...wiff dat frog sticker."
"Ooooh, Zac.., Frog sticker! That's the worst one yet." Zeer could hear Paris and his father laughing in his mind. He looked sharply at Par. Her face was passive, but, her eyes had tiny little tears in the corners and her face was tight from her attempts to keep from laughing out loud. Zeer turned his head away to keep from getting caught up in it.
He pleaded with them in his mind, "Will ya both na help me just a little bit here!?!"
The Commandant continued with his work, oblivious to his surroundings. He handed over another voucher for sleeping fees and another pile went into the hole. He was given another voucher that totaled the rest of his poke. "These you can use at any store for buying stuff."
Zeer noticed that the "fair market value" promised on the signs all over the fort for Quallium was a hundredth of what it was worth at Space Port City and a thousandth of what it would be worth if you could somehow get it off of this miserable planet.
"Oh well, at least we can eat, now." He joked for the benefit of the Commandant. Unbeknownst to the Commandant, the old Preacher had left a huge balance at the supply store to which every Preacher could use. If they were careful, He and Paris could eat well enough for an entire cycle. Which was a good thing since he had already discovered that no one would take his Quallium as payment. It was strange at first.
He had found the answer as he went along. Possession of Quallium within the fort for more than one day was a death penalty. For that matter, the penalty for any crime in this fort was death. Even the tiniest chips were supposed to be turned in immediately at the fort purser’s office for credit vouchers. A black market always forms in these conditions and Zeer’s secret stash grew from this undercurrent of commerce.
Life in a mining faciIity is a tough life. Only the toughest of creatures can create a life under these conditions. Miners, as a group tend to make and follow their own sets of rules also, often, with the death penalty as the result. Tough laws are needed to keep the peace.
Still, at every space port, miners lined up to be transported here dreaming of the odd chance of striking it big. Every one in the galaxy knew about the mines on Tarra. They were hoping against the odds that if they could just survive the contract period, they might be rich for life. All who came to the new mines were willing to gamble on that slim chance despite the sure and certain knowledge that they had a less than even chance of getting out alive.
It was really a scam for the the Mining Corp. They brought in shiploads of new settlers wishing to mine Quallium every day. They loaned these fools the cost of transport. Usually, they had to stay for two full contracts to get their grub stake. Most of the money they made on the first contract was forfeit for so called ‘costs and interest’ of that first ride. And food and lodging was over priced so they were working double shifts just to make ends meet. The last little joke on the miners was that any money in storage was forfeit to the Corp if you became a criminal or were killed before you were freed.
The Commandant noticed that Zeer was still standing there, “Yes?”
“I am told that I need to rent viddy time for me services."
"How much time do you need?"
"One hour a day. The Brotherhood was told by the Empirion that the newsies were ta show both Morgen Tide and Even Song services."
"Out of the question, everyone will want to stop working to watch."
"You could viddy pipe them to the mines so that the miners could hear them there. Two of the shifts would be off duty, anyway."
"Not if they don't meet their quota, they would still be down there."
"Not even for ten percent of the till."
"All merchantz already owe the Empra, ten percent. Rearranging everything would take an extra twenty five percent at least."
Zac jumped in, “Well, now we know his cut!”
Zeer ignored him. Paris laughed mentally, but kept her face calm, "Thee are a hard bargainer. I am sad to say that the Brotherhood has many charities to support. I must tithe me congregation to the good of the whole."
Zac sniffed, “That’s rich, me son. Now we know what your cut is.” Paris was overcome with a coughing fit to cover her laughter.
The Commandant looked stern, "These are hard times. I, too, am a poor servent of the Empra."
"Me mother's wooden leg," thought Par.
Zeer gave Par a sharp look. Par was beginning to talk more and more like Zac. He could hear the mental rumbles of his father's laughter, "I couldn’t a said it better, meself, lassie." He said through his chuckles.
"Twenty percent is all I could afford, sir. I couldna go higher without permission. I'd hafta take up and leave yas."
The Commandant knew that he must not drive this Brother out. He had been told to get a church going, but, had been dragging his feet. "Alright, alright, but, no one must know. If my superiors found out that I was coddling, they'd yank me quick. Now, leave me alone, I have work to do."
Zeer looked back as he was leaving. He saw what work the commandant had to do. He was pouring himself a large drink. He knew that what the frog had told him had been a lie.
By showing up here without the fort knowing he was coming, he had saved them thousands of credits. He had heard in the bazaar that the mining corp had been pressuring the government to get a preacher here for a more than a full cycle or more. Negotiations were never settled. The Brotherhood was willing to send someone but the fort was would have to pay the freight.
Then, an endowment from an old miner’s will had paid for this traveling church and for the trip here. When word of the bequest came to the Brotherhood, the Order had hired Taflick. Taflick had, in turn, tricked Paris to accompany him.
By the time that they returned from the office, people were already lined up at the door of the traveler. It was almost time for Even Song. First, there was a line of penitents in front of the confessional. The brotherhood had conveniently built a small, sound proof, air-conditioned confessional into the under side of the pulpit structure just for this purpose. Zeer noticed as he walked past that the penance cups were filling nicely with Quallium and credit vouchers.
The Mining Corp paid the miners in credit vouchers good for use anywhere in the fort. The currency here was 1, 5, 10, and 100 credit denominations. Miners also received bonuses if they exceeded their Quallium quotas.
Preacher Man Page 7