by Andre Norton
At last, later that evening, they gathered wearily around the table, relaxing with swankee, a stack of honey-sweetened thin, crisp, horva-grain biscuits—and their results.
Versha spoke first. “It looks as if Storm was right. The two directions he chose are still the most likely. The Patrol on Lereyne can’t find Harb, either. In view of some of our possibilities, they’re wondering if he did manage to contact the Antares crew somehow and get them to take him off-planet.”
Brad shook his head. “I wouldn’t have expected them to bother. He’s older than most of them and not much use for physical work. As for his capabilities, most of the crew could probably do anything he could do. Harb was Gerald’s friend, and I’d say without Gerald they’d ignore him.”
“Unless they thought he knew too much,” Storm said quietly. “In which case you should be looking in other places.”
Versha nodded wearily. “We’d already thought of that. They’re looking into where you could hide a body after they’ve finished looking for a live Harb. If he’s dead there’s no hurry. Dead men don’t talk and it’s a live, talkative Harb we need.”
Logan reached over to touch Laris’s hand. “You lived in camps. In a way Harb’s being on the run is similar. If you were Harb, where would you go to ground?”
Laris gaped briefly. It had never occurred to her that in her new life on Arzor, her years in the refugee camps might come in useful. She settled to think herself into that frame of mind again. She could trust no one, the authorities were after her. But if she’d known that day might come, she’d have made preparations. And which preparations she’d have made suddenly became very clear to her. After a long silence, she looked up, her gaze pinpointing Versha. “Did you ever find out where Gerald was staying before he died?”
Versha rocketed upright. “Crats and helios! No, he had his identity disk on him. I think the peacekeepers on Lereyne did look, but so far as I know they found nothing.”
“Harb would have known, though. And Gerald could have come to Lereyne under a false identity originally. Or maybe he’d already arranged one for Harb and he was taking his friend back with him.”
Versha all but spat. “Yes, and maybe Harb had already arranged one for himself in case he needed it.”
Laris grinned. “Did anyone ever run a financial breakdown on Harb? A check to find if he has any hidden accounts or expenditures?”
Versha looked interested. “What’s on your mind?”
“You said he had a small pension. But from what Tani’s aunt said, Harb wasn’t ancient or decrepit; he just had damaged lungs the medics couldn’t repair completely. But he has got space qualifications, quite good ones. It’s possible he took casual work around one of Lereyne’s spaceports? If he had money and a false ID he could have gotten off-world as soon as the Patrol came looking for him. That’s what I’d have done. Spacers stick together. If Harb told a good story about how someone had framed him, there would always be a few other spacers who’d help him out of solidarity.”
Versha disappeared towards the comcaller again and they could hear her voice, briefly raised. She returned looking satisfied. “They’ll check all of that and a couple more ideas I had on the way. I’m heading back to the port and to my bed. I suggest you all turn in and we can resume this when we have more information.”
Versha was back the next day, and the next, until they felt there were no more possibilities left unexplored. Meanwhile the ranch work continued, but Brad was quietly shifting men out to take over work on the ranch Storm and Tani owned. Animals couldn’t be deserted; they had to be checked, no matter where their owners were or what they had planned. Storm noticed and said nothing. Brad understood that neither Storm nor Tani could remain on Arzor if a clue to Prauo’s world was uncovered.
Laris’s ship planeted two weeks after the package of TF Combine records arrived. She, Prauo, and Logan rode in the crawler to the ship as soon as Versha called to say the ship was in port. The Trehannan Lady was one of the smallest of the general Garand-class ships, but even so, she was bigger than many others in the newer Garand range of ships.
The Garands had been created as weight-carriers almost five generations earlier. They had a low top-speed, but because the engine type—which would accept almost any matter as fuel—they were excellent long-haul freighters. There was little to go wrong in the ships, and often permanent crews on the Garands might be out from their home port for years. So it was better to use the engine’s work-horse capabilities to allow ample space for hydroponics and crew quarters.
Once Laris and Logan had boarded the ship, they found that the Lady was in fair repair, shabby but clean enough, and the ship’s log was up-to-date as was required by law. The man who had been navigator and was now acting captain handed them the records, and departed to discuss port fees and a longer stay pad casting a few sideways looks at Prauo during the brief discussion before he left the ship. The captain wasn’t sure if the feline was a pet or an associate.
Brad arrived at the ship five hours later, to discover Laris and his son looking satisfied.
“What’s she like?”
“She’d good to go, Dad. All we need are the supplies and medical stuff Versha promised. We talked to Captain D’Argeis before he went to report at the spaceport office.”
“What did he say about the crew? Is he interested in staying on as captain for one more trip?”
Laris dropped her gaze, looking a bit disturbed about something. “He’ll stay. Mr. Quade, I don’t think he has anywhere else to go.” She recalled the short, stocky man with his graying hair. He looked hard and fit and his clothes were clean, even if, like the ship, they were a little shabby. His eyes were a warm hazel, trustworthy and kind. Laris had liked him on sight.
“He’s been unofficial captain on the Lady for twenty years while my family’s old partner had the official title. Before that D’Argeis was navigator and a crewman on the Lady still before that. I don’t feel right about making him leave.”
Brad smiled. “Have you seen the financial records?”
“Yes.” Logan was holding a stack of disks. “I’d say the ship hasn’t been making a fortune, but she gets by okay. Of course, from the figures, that’s only lasted this long because she hasn’t needed emergency repairs.”
“What percentage was the owner taking?”
Logan shrugged. “A flat twenty percent. Beyond that the ship only just paid her crew, bought supplies, paid port fees and so on, picked up cheap cargoes on speculation, or took orders to deliver cargoes, and managed to hold a very few credits for emergencies.”
“So you could run the ship as a trader?” Brad was looking at Laris. “Take ten percent, put the other ten into an account for those possible emergencies or to buy cargo on spec. There’s another thought there, too. If you do end up finding Prauo’s world, you may be able to sign trading rights, and as discoverers you’d normally have exclusive right to those, depending on the civilization you find there.”
Laris’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. That way you’d be a spaceship owner, a free trader, and I can think of a few cargoes right now that leave Arzor and which you could possibly carry more cheaply. Things that are heavy but that don’t have tight arrival times.”
Logan nodded at that. “Frawn meat. It’s a delicacy for the winter festivals all over Myril. About that time of their year we send a couple of shiploads. It’s been costing us. The freight line uses the more modern ships. They’re faster, but they’re fuel hogs and they take less cargo. So it takes two ships to carry the usual amount ordered. Our profit margin is pretty small. Your ship could take all the orders in one load, and since we know exactly when the meat is wanted, we could just up-ship a bit earlier.”
“A lot cheaper, too,” Brad added, “for more reasons than fuel costs. Most modern ships don’t vent to space without a lot of problems. With the Garands, it’s just a matter of pulling a couple of levers and pressing a button. No need for refrigeration, less wear an
d tear on the engine, less cost to the ship.”
Laris’s eyes were shining. “Can I tell the captain all this?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll need to go over to the port office now and see Port-Manager Guada. She’ll want to shift the Lady to a side pad since she’ll be staying a while. I can radio her from the crawler as we drive to the port.”
Laris was first into the crawler, with Prauo a close second. Brad was already on the radio as Storm drove. Once the crawler arrived at the port Laris was first out, and raced up the pathway into the lower part of the port offices. There in the outer office, business was just concluding. Laris listened as port manager Guada listed final details for the Lady’s move.
“We’ll tractor the ship to pad twenty-seven. We can start refueling as soon as I have owner or manager authorization. I’ll need a thumbprint and a signature.” She heard footsteps and looked up to see Laris and the others.
“Hello, Laris, everyone. Brad, do you want to sign for these fuel bricks you ordered? If you sign now I have a tractor free to install some and stack the rest in the fuel-hold immediately.” He nodded and she passed plasheets to be initialed.
She turned to Captain D’Argeis. “Captain, I know you’ve already met Laris Trehannan, your new owner, and her friend Logan Quade, these others are Tani and Hosteen Storm.” Tani gave the small half bow, Arzor’s ceremonial first greeting. Storm and Logan came forward to shake hands in the older Terran custom.
The captain studied the two with interest. Storm looked like what he’d heard the lad to be, almost full-blooded Navaho. Storm’s black hair, dark brown eyes, and dark-skinned, high-cheekboned face proclaimed his heritage.
Logan, born of the same mother but of a father who was only part Cheyenne, was paler-skinned; his face was narrower, and his hair and eyes a shade lighter than Storm’s. Yet there was a clear likeness between them, and the captain guessed they had much in common. D’Argeis liked the look of both young men. Storm looked sensible, and their gazes met his squarely.
“Mr. Storm, Mr. Quade, good to meet you.”
Storm nodded acknowledgment of the courtesy but corrected the greeting. “Just Storm, Captain. I was in the service and got used to that. Besides, I never much liked my first name. Everyone just calls me Storm, even my wife.”
Versha had turned back to the Lady’s new owner. “So, Laris, you have a spaceship of your own now. What are you going to do with her?” She eyed the girl, who was almost bouncing on her toes with excitement as Brad checked the fuel sheets. “I hear you’re making one trip out. What about after that? We could use a Garand trading out of Arzor.”
Laris bubbled over. “That’s what we all think. I want Captain D’Argeis to stay on the ship as captain and run the Lady as a free trader for me, if he’ll agree to that.”
She saw the man’s eyes abruptly fill with tears as he turned away from them to hide his emotion. Diffidently she reached out to place her hand on his arm.
“Captain, I never had a home that I can remember. I grew up alone in the camps with all my family dead or lost to me.” No need to explain that term; every planet knew the refugee camps from the war as simply “the camps” and knew, too, what the camps were—or had been—like for those who lived in them.
“Captain, I don’t want to take your home away from you. My friends and I just want to share it with you sometimes.”
He nodded agreement, his eyes lit with happiness, and Laris caught Prauo’s sending, to her alone. *Well done, sister. He rejoices. Let us do likewise. I think we have chosen well. This is a man to trust.*
Chapter Five
With Captain D’Argeis now wholly committed to them, work on the ship went far more quickly. He knew his ship as only a man who’d spent more than forty years in one ship can know it. In days all the fuel bricks that could be used initially were installed, and the spare bricks securely clamped down and locked in the fuel hold.
The greatly compressed fuel bricks, made from garbage or metal-laced tailings from mines, were better than most other fuel. A Garand would go further on those, if not faster. It required a special compactor to produce them, as the compaction rate was some fifty to one. But once compacted they were ideal, and at the usual size produced any reasonably strong human could handle one forty-pound brick at a time.
“Captain? Have the supplies come in? What about the medical items, and how’s the hydroponics room coming along?” Storm was checking on the latest state of readiness. However, it was Laris who popped her head out of the nearest door.
“Fully supplied. Versha sent them along yesterday morning with two of her people and told them to do the loading to whatever place we decided we wanted the supplies stored. The med-cabinet and stasis berth arrived last night with one of her med-techs and they’ve been installed, too, in the cabin we’ve designated for sick-bay.
“Hydroponics is the only thing we haven’t got done as yet. The captain’s working on that now. The capacity needed expanding as he reported. He says there isn’t a problem with doing that. The way Garands are built you can just unbolt and remove a couple of wall sections to double the hydroponics size.”
Storm nodded approvingly. “Standard procedure if a ship is going out beyond the usual star lanes. If a ship lands and can’t lift off for any reason, it should carry a very wide selection of Terran seeds and seedlings.”
Laris was interested. “Has that ever happened?”
“It was how Arzor was colonized originally.” He smiled at her surprise. “Why, didn’t it ever occur to you that we don’t normally colonize inhabited worlds? No, human settlement on Arzor was an error. They had one of the larger survey ships in the area when it was holed by a meteorite. They set down on Arzor and couldn’t lift again. The rock had gone right through the engine room and the light-speed engines. It had also destroyed normal full com-transmission. They had only the sub-light capacity left, and using that they’d have all died of old age before they got anywhere—even if their on-ship hydroponics had been able to produce enough food for everyone.”
“But couldn’t they call for help with an emergency beacon?”
Storm nodded. “They could and did. Problem was, what no one knew was that this sector was experiencing a meteor storm. A resupply ship for the colony on Myril picked up the distress call and diverted—”
He snorted his disgust. “—Without telling anyone what they were doing. Luckily they had a heavy cargo of supplies and also about fifteen hundred selected personnel to upgrade colony numbers on Myril. Their ship came out of light right into the worst concentration of the storm. They only just got down, but with a ship that was a total wreck, a fair number of dead, and a lot of injured.
“Brad’s great-great-great-grandmother was Walks-the-Stars Quade, a full-blooded Cheyenne. There were several Cheyenne in the resupply group for Myril. Star-Walker knew her people’s sign language and when she met the Norbies they picked it up from her. It expanded after that, of course, but she was the first to move right away from the ship and take up land with their agreement.
“About ten settlers from England went with her and all the other Cheyenne. She married one of them a year after that. When Arzor and the shipwrecked people were found two generations later, on behalf of all the population, her family group demanded the right to stay on Arzor, and won. Brad’s always been proud of his kin, and rightly so.”
“I can see why. But are you saying they wouldn’t have been allowed to stay nowadays?”
“Not likely, but in those days things were a bit more freewheeling. Besides, her kin could point to a properly signed bill of sale for the land and an ongoing treaty with the nearest clans. Star-Walker reminded all her group about the sort of thing that had happened to her people in the old days on the North American continent, and they were always very careful to respect the rights of the Arzoran natives. The Patrol was just being formed then and they had other things to worry about, so they let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Tani told me about the trouble y
ou had here with the clickers last year. Didn’t the Patrol get involved then?”
Storm’s memory went back to that time when Death-Which-Comes-in-the-Night had almost overrun Arzor. He winced at the memories. The death had squeezed the wild Nitra tribes from the great desert against the less isolated Norbie clans, who in turn had been pushed towards the human-settled lands. The Patrol had warned Arzor’s humans that if it became necessary, humanity would be removed from Arzor, by force if need be. Storm and Tani had worked to make sure that never happened and in doing so had found each other.
“Yes. It wasn’t a good time. But we hold Arzor in trust. It belongs to its own people first, us next. Now,” he changed the subject firmly, “the hydroponics. How much longer should it take to finish the job there, where is Prauo and what’s he doing, and have you and Logan chosen cabins for us all?”
Obediently Laris followed his lead. “Captain D’Argeis says hydroponics will be ready by tomorrow evening even with the expansion. Prauo’s with him. I think they like each other, even if the captain isn’t quite sure what to make of him.” She grinned.
“You and Tani have the other big cabin. It has its own fresher en-suite. Logan says the captain told him that originally the cabin was for an owner traveling with the ship. Our family’s ex-partner used it until he died. We’ve taken the two cabins opposite it. They have a fresher between them with a door to each cabin. We’ve hooked traveling cook-units into all three cabins, so if anyone wants to stay in their rooms, they can eat there without having to join the main mess. The captain already has one in his cabin and it was his suggestion.”
“What about Prauo?”
Laris looked mildly surprised. “He sleeps in my room; he always has. My cabin is the larger of the two matching ones and we slotted in a second bunk for Prauo. It has a shock-harness and everything.”
“Good, then we’re almost ready to lift. Versha is coming to the ranch tonight to talk to us all about the trip and we may be able to get a timetable from her then.”