The result was a tremendous amount of bowing, scraping, and ass kissing, an activity which annoyed Wexel-15, but came more naturally to Dru-21. He made fun of the humans in private, and thought the whole thing was absurd, but could hobnob with the best of them.
And once it became clear that a still functioning artifact world was at stake, a world blessed with a rather unusual computer, and who knew what other kinds of technological goodies, Dru-21 found himself in an increasingly powerful position.
A position so powerful that he was able to name Lando as his ambassador to the human empire, a position invested with diplomatic immunity, and therefore exempt from human law.
And since Lando wasted little time marrying Della and adopting Melissa, his newfound status extended to them as well. Protecting both from the charges that piled up in the wake of their escape from Pylax.
This particular stratagem made the consul very angry, but was considered rather trivial by his superiors, and written off to political necessity. And given the fact that conversations with Lando had revealed him to be loyal if not patriotic, a human ambassador could be considered something of a coup.
And so it was that a small but rather powerful fleet had been assembled and "loaned" to Dru-21. The "loan" being a thinly veiled strategy by which the human empire could avoid direct
conflict with Il Ronnian warships.
But when the fleet arrived, and found only remnants of the original Il Ronnian task force opposing them, the possibility of war was considerably reduced.
The Il Ronnian reinforcements did come, but only after all of their ground forces had been forced to "redeploy" aboard what remained of their ships, and the ships had been "assigned" to orbits a few hundred thousand miles out.
It took weeks of careful negotiations before the Il Ronnian fleet finally departed, and far from empty-handed too, since they were allowed to keep many of the artifacts looted from the planet.
A compromise that drove Lando crazy, but was of little importance to the Imperial consul, who was primarily interested in the drifter and the machine called God.
More than that, the consul was interested in something that had escaped Lando during the excitement, something far more valuable than either one of the artifacts.
He was interested in the fact that God could communicate with the drifter from millions of light-years away, and could do so instantaneously, something that had escaped sentients up until now.
After all, a faster-than-light means of communications could bind the empire together, could make billions of credits, could win wars, could change the course of history.
Lando chuckled. Assuming God would share the secret, that is… something he hadn't agreed to do. Not yet anyway.
Like the Il Ronnians before him the Imperial consul wanted to dismantle God and perform an electronic autopsy on his corpse.
But the newly confirmed government, headed by Dru-21, had forbidden any such action. More than that, they had proclaimed God a citizen, with all the rights attendant thereto. Which, Dru-21 had been quick to point out, included only one vote, just like everyone else.
So, while hundreds of scientists spent their days and nights playing mind games with God, sensible people, and Lando included himself in that category, spent their time enjoying life.
And what was not to enjoy? Both the constructs and the human courts agreed that the drifter belonged to those who had found her, and thanks to the claim filed by Captain Edna
shortly after their unexpected departure from Pylax, that made Lando, Della, Melissa, and Cy the ship's legal owners.
Nine hundred million credits can go a long way, even when split among four people, five counting Edna and her ten percent, so all of them were fixed for life. All except Cy that is, who was gambling again, and down to a measly five million or so. Or had been the last time they'd seen him back on Pylax.
Yes, Lando reflected, life was good, or would be if he weren't so damned rich. The problem with having money was that he didn't need to get it. And since the process of getting money had occupied all of his adult life up till this point, he had nothing left to do. Confusing… but true.
Lando heard someone approach and didn't even consider reaching for his slug gun. It was hanging in his closet for one thing, and completely unnecessary for another. He had nothing left to fear. No competitors, no bounty hunters, no homicidal aliens.
Della gave his ponytail a playful tug, kissed him on the ear, and dropped into the chair beside him.
"Where's Mel?"
Lando pointed down the hill. "Down there. Playing with the other kids."
Della nodded approvingly. "Good. Wexel-15 and Rola-4 are coming for dinner. We'll serve as chaperones."
Lando smiled. "What's holding them up? A shortage of preachers or something?"
Della laughed and shook her head. "No, the constructs don't have a religion as such… but there are customs to observe. Neder-32 has only been dead for six months or so."
Lando shrugged. "Whatever. As long as they're happy."
Della nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Which brings us to you."
Lando looked surprised. "To me? What do you mean?"
"You're bored."
Lando shrugged. "Yeah… so what? I'll get used to it."
"Junk is sitting up there in orbit… just waiting for something to do."
Lando raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Like carrying some cargo to Pylax. Dru-21 wants to open a consulate. Establish some trade. Use some of those factories the Lords left lying around."
Lando thought about it. Not just Junk, but other vessels as well, a regular shipping line. The same business that he'd been in, only legal this time, with legitimate cargoes and semihonest customers. The Lando Line. The name had a ring to it.
He took Della's hand. She smiled. Yes, the whole idea sounded like fun.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1992 by William C. Dietz
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-0697-5
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Drifter's War Page 25