Tor was waiting for him when Jirik arrived at the rented office, his usual smiling expression changing to one of concern as he saw Jirik's bandage. "Are you all right, Captain?" he inquired anxiously, "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Calm down, kid," Jirik replied, "I'm fine. I just had to hide some liberty souvenirs from the groundhogs. Listen," he continued as Tor visibly relaxed, "If they ask, the bandage is due to a small accident on board the Lass. We don't have to tell them that it was a bar fight." Tor nodded.
"All right," Jirik continued, "Have you contacted the library yet to get me an appointment with the head person?"
"Y-Y-Yessir!" Tor replied, "W-We have an ap-p-pointment with J-Jon Fanlin, the head of the L-L-Library Department of the University at 1330 hours."
"Good work, son," Jirik commended him, "That'll give us time to deal with this shipping agent, and maybe get some lunch before we talk to him."
The shipping agent appeared a few minutes later, and Tor watched interestedly as Jirik negotiated with him for a load of thorium to complete their inbound cargo. Finally, the shipping agreement signed and the loading arrangements completed, Jirik ushered his visitor out, leaned back in his chair, and yawned hugely.
"Well, that's that." He stretched deliciously, then checked his ring watch. "C'mon, kid, We've just got time enough to get something to eat before our appointment with that damned librarian."
"Uh, sir," Tor replied, "I d-don't think that Mr. Fanlin is just a librarian. I m-m-mean, he's a very important m-m-man. He's the number two man in the Library system, and on Boondock, the Library is a cabinet-level agency. I d-d-don't think you should underestimate him."
Jirik clapped the younger man on the back, almost sending him stumbling. "Hell, kid, I knew that he was important. But it's good to see that you took the trouble to find it out. You may have a future as a trader, after all!"
Tor flushed with pleasure at Jirik's compliment as they walked out onto the spaceport field. A taxi flitter was waiting. At Jirik's questioning glance, Tor flushed again. "I, uh, called a taxi when I saw that the agent was getting ready to leave, s-sir. I hope that was all right." He dodged as Jirik attempted to clap him on the back again.
"Good thinking." Jirik approved. "But I don't know any place close to get a decent meal. I've been grabbing a sandwich at my desk."
"Uh, there's a p-place near the University that's pretty good," Tor shrugged, "Uh, that is if you don't want anything f-f-fancy. It kinda caters to the students." He added apologetically as they climbed into the taxi.
"As long as I can get a decent sandwich, I don't give a damn," Jirik replied. He waited as Tor gave the address to the driver.
"Y'know, kid, I'm pretty impressed with the way you handle yourself. I haven't had time to really get to know you, since you were only on board a couple of weeks before we got here. I hate to admit that I don't know much about one of my own crewmen, but I've been so busy with the repairs and all . . ."
"There's not really much to tell, Captain," Tor replied. "I grew up on a farm on Corona. I'm 14 years old, Coronan, which means 17, standard. Ever since I can remember I've wanted to be a spacer. To tell the truth," he continued with a rueful grin, "I was a lousy farmer. But it's hard for a farmer to get into space, and the Navy has a waiting list on Corona. All my relatives and friends thought I was crazy. I had about given up when I heard that your Comm Officer signed off, and you needed a crewman to get off-planet."
He shrugged. "I used up three months' pay and a lot of favors to get to the port quick enough. You can't imagine how excited I was when Mr. Fergson . . . uh . . . Bran said he'd recommend me for the job. I guess all my math and science study in school helped a lot."
"Yeah, it helped," Jirik replied, "But I think the main reason Bran recommended you was because you wanted it so bad. A math and science background is important, son, but Bran and I both know that if you don't eat, sleep and breathe space, you'll never be happy as a spacer. How do you like it so far?"
"It's even better than I dreamed!" Tor enthused. "It gets a little boring during long runs in Supralight, like the last leg to Boondock. But that just gives me time to study." He looked thoughtful. "I've been trying to learn my job."
They entered the restaurant and grabbed a table in the corner. Evidently classes were in session at the University, because the place wasn't crowded. Their uniforms garnered a few looks from the patrons, but they were unmolested as they placed their orders.
Tor picked up the conversation. "Uh, Captain, I . . . uh . . . guess this is a silly question, but, uh, Why do you really need a Communications Officer? I mean, uh, I've only been on this one leg, but it seems to me that since there's no FTL communications, the only time you need a Comm Officer is in intrasystem space. Couldn't one of the other crew cover it during that time? I'm not trying to talk myself out of a job," he added hurriedly, "But it does seem that you're paying shares for an unnecessary crewman."
Jirik paused while the waiter delivered their orders, and then replied, "No, kid. Comm Officers aren't wasted. This was hardly a typical planetfall. Normally, everyone's up to their ears in intrasystem space. Bran has to transition from Inertialess drive to Inertial drive, and keep it humming. Valt is busy computing the most efficient orbital changes to make planetfall as quickly and economically as possible. I pilot. As Comm Officer, you are responsible for monitoring comm traffic, establishing contact with the target world, arranging berthing, negotiating docking fees and customs requirements, contacting consignees if our cargo is consigned, or locating possible markets if it isn't, and on and on. Believe me, kid, when you make your first normal planetfall, you'll earn every credit of your share."
Tor looked relieved. "Thank you, Captain. I was just beginning to feel unneeded, an odd wheel, if you know what I mean. Don't worry, sir, by the time we make that first planetfall, I'll know what I'm doing. I won't let you down!"
Jirik laughed aloud. "I know you won't, Kid. I was you once, remember?"
Considering that it was both the central public library and the University library, the Boondock Consolidated Library's home was not an impressive structure. The bookchips themselves were maintained in underground vaults, so the visible part of the building was only two stories high, and not unusually large. The main floor consisted mainly of row after row of cubicles with computer terminals. Users called up their choices either on the library's terminals, or electronically from their home vidphones. The chips below were either accessed by the terminal or phone directly, or, if the user preferred, copied to a blank chip for a small copying and copyright fee.
The Department offices were on the second floor, and were as unprepossessing as the building itself. The Department Head's secretary ushered Jirik and Tor into an office whose austere simplicity surprised Jirik, accustomed as he was to the more luxurious facilities of the inner worlds.
Jirik was also surprised and annoyed to find two men awaiting him, instead of the one he had expected. Neither was particularly well dressed. Both were wearing the simple tunics so common on the streets of the city. One of the two's height and slimness marked him as not native-born to Boondock. The other, short, wide, and muscular, was more typical of Boondockers.
The taller man arose as they entered, and stuck out his hand. "Good morning, gentlemen. I'm Jon Fanlin, Head of the Library Department."
Jirik took the proffered hand. "Good morning, sir. I'm Captain Jirik Jeffson of the Independent Trader Bonny Lass. This is my Communications Officer, Tor Jankys."
"The Bonny Lass, eh?" interjected the Boondocker. "I've seen her at the port. We're not used to seeing such big ships this far out. DIN Class Combat Hauler, isn't she?"
Jirik nodded. "Yes, sir. Alliance surplus. As for her size, she's just right for our usual routes between the Empire and inner Alliance." Jirik noticed with some amusement that the Boondocker's lips twitched in distaste at the mention of the Empire. "And, may I ask whom I'm addressing, with no offense intended?"
"Your pardon, Captain," Fanlin
said hastily. "Permit me to introduce Boondock's Minister of Trade, Albet Cony. I asked Mr. Cony to be present because I rarely receive requests for appointments from ship's captains, and I felt that his expertise might provide a mutual ground to smooth our discussions. If you would prefer, of course, I know that Mr. Cony would excuse us."
Jirik shrugged indifferently. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I appreciate your courtesy in making such an effort to smooth our business."
Cony nodded his approval. "It's just that we assumed that a Trader would want to talk about trade, and I'm afraid that trade is an area quite far removed from Mr. Fanlin's usual concerns. I must also admit to some curiosity as to what an innerworld trader would want with a librarian."
"Nothing nefarious, I assure you." Jirik was suppressing a smile at Fanlin's scowling reaction to Cony's "librarian" label. "May we sit down? I'm afraid that 1.4G is rather more than we're used to."
Fanlin jumped to his feet and hastened around the bare desk, pulling up two rather hard chairs for his visitors, apologizing profusely for his oversight and lack of hospitality. Cony simply shifted in his chair, his lip curling slightly at the visitors' admission of weakness.
"Now that everyone's comfortable," Cony said, his slight emphasis on "comfortable" further evidence of his disdain, "Perhaps you'd care to tell us the purpose of your visit?"
"Of course," Jirik replied easily, ignoring the Boondocker's tone. "As you may be aware, we originally came out here on a priority run with a cargo of medical electronics. Our regular routes, as I mentioned, are along the inner rim of Alliance. Unfortunately, the Lass was holed by a small meteorite just as we emerged from supralight at the edge of the system, destroying our Inertial drive generators. The tow, repairs and delivery penalties have seriously eroded our operating capital.
"Thanks partly to your department, Mr. Cony, we have been able to begin contracting a cargo of heavy metals which will permit us to return to the inner systems with some small profit. This will allow us to contract at least some low-value cargoes, which, over time, will let us build our working capital back to its previous level. But that will be time-consuming, and we may have come across a better suggestion."
Cony had nodded acknowledgment at Jirik's mention of his department's help, though otherwise remaining impassive. Fanlin was looking attentive, but perplexed.
"I'm afraid that I don't understand the connection to the Library, Captain," Fanlin queried, "What do we have to do with this?"
"My apologies, sir," Jirik replied, "My remarks were preliminary. I was just coming to the point. It was suggested to us that we might perhaps recoup our losses if we could run a single, high-value cargo from the inner worlds back out here to Boondock. I have come to you to ask if you could estimate the value of a shipload of bookchips from the Empire Library on Alpha." Fanlin shot to attention in his chair, and even Cony was looking interested.
"You see, sir," Jirik continued, "The cargo we're taking on here is bound for the inner worlds anyway. Given this sector's reputed appetite for reading matter, we wondered if there would be any commercial value in returning with a cargo of literature. We had considered either contracting with you, or an association of book dealers, or even doing it on speculation. I was hoping that you could give us some advice on the matter."
Fanlin was busily trying to conceal his excitement. Cony, however, was looking wary. "I see," he said, "And I presume that you want Mr. Fanlin to contract with you for this cargo, with a substantial prepayment, of course." He hadn't even tried to conceal his distaste and suspicion.
Jirik was unperturbed. "Mr Cony," He replied with a massive dignity, "I am a trader, not a thief. I do not claim the morals of a deity. I have been known to grease palms when necessary, and even to indulge in a bit of smuggling in my callow youth. But I did not come here to swindle Mr. Fanlin. Actually, I came here for advice to assist me in making a business decision, not to offer a deal. You see, we haven't even made up our minds whether such a venture would be practical or profitable. Should we decide to pursue such a deal, however, I would not require a prepayment; only a contract to purchase the cargo, enforceable in Boondock courts. I regret your assumption of bad faith. I'm sure that we can ferret out any needed information by ourselves. I apologize for wasting your time, gentlemen. We will be on our way." Jirik rose from his chair, Tor following, and started for the door.
"Wait!" Cony demanded, "I apologize for my incivility, Captain. In my work, I often encounter the seedier aspects of interstellar trade. Your proposal aroused my suspicions because of its improbability; it seems a very long run for a load of books. Please, gentlemen, resume your seats. I assure you that both Mr. Fanlin and myself will try to assist as best we can."
"Yes, Captain," Fanlin urged, "Do sit down. I find your proposal intriguing, not improbable, and would be happy to discuss it with you." Fanlin was barely able to control his excitement, and his tone was almost pleading. He was glaring at Cony. As Jirik and Tor resumed their seats, Fanlin continued, "Now, Captain, exactly what information would be of assistance to you?"
"Well, Jirik began, "First of all, we need to know if the market and customers exist at all. Do you think that we would have much of a problem disposing of such a cargo?"
"Not at all!" Fanlin's vehemence was further evidence of his excitement at the idea. "Besides our own library here, our rather violent weather makes reading and holovids our most popular forms of entertainment; and books imported from the Empire bring premium prices. I'm sure that you've noticed that there is a book-and-vid store on nearly every street corner, selling everything from dissertations to space opera. Speaking for the library itself, I can say that the opportunity to 'loot' an Empire library for technical, scientific and scholarly works would be unprecedented. You may have heard that we have the largest library in the Alliance," he continued with pride. "We have several million volumes here. But the opportunity to nearly double our size in one fell swoop could hardly be ignored, especially since our access to Empire science and technology is so limited by our distance from it. We would be pleased with an opportunity like that."
"Mr. Fanlin"' Cony interrupted, "I'm not sure that you understand the magnitude of the investment involved. Have you seen Captain Jeffson's ship?"
Fanlin threw a startled look at Cony. "Why, no, I haven't. Why do you ask?"
"Because a DIN Class transport is a big ship!" Cony replied. "I'm sure that she could carry the entire contents of this library, and still have room in her holds. Bookchips are small and light. A full cargo would probably mean some ten million chips, possibly even twice that. I wouldn't be too surprised to find that it could nearly empty that Empire library he's talking about. Given the costs of transportation, since ships like the Lass aren't cheap to run, we could be talking about an incredible number of credits to buy that cargo."
"Oh, dear," Fanlin replied, "I'm afraid that I had no idea. I doubt that the resources of the Library would stretch so far. I fear that I simply hadn't thought that far ahead. Captain, Do you have any idea how many credits we're talking about? I confess that I don't!"
"To tell you the truth, sir, I hadn't really considered it from that point of view, either. I suppose that, thinking that we were talking about a credit or so per copy, I assumed that the cost, and the price, would be reasonable. I'm afraid that I'm guilty of not doing my homework. However, to answer your question, a bookchip measures about 2 centimeters square by one thick. We can handle a mass of some twenty thousand tons, if it can fit into our holds. Offhand, I would judge that the Lass could handle some twenty to twenty-five million chips, since the limiting factor would be size, not mass. I suspect that would approximate the entire stock of the library on Alpha. I'll have to do some computations, but purely as a rough guess, I would say that the cost to you could come to some 40 to 50 million credits. Deity! I hadn't realized it would be that much!"
"Another thing," he continued, "I doubt that we would have the resources to purchase that many chips, ourselves. After all, we'd hav
e the cost of the bulk chips, plus copying fees for each disc. Even excluding our time and effort to copy that many discs, I doubt if we would be able to afford the costs associated with that many chips. Please excuse me for wasting your time, sir. I sincerely apologize for coming to this meeting unprepared. I can only say that, thinking in terms of vague preliminaries, I failed to reduce the idea to practicalities."
Fanlin waved Jirik's apology aside. "Not at all, Captain, not at all. I quite understand. I, too, permitted myself to be swept up by the idea without considering the realities of the situation. In fact, I remain convinced of its desirability, if the practicalities can be satisfied, and I'm not certain that they cannot. As you may have heard, Captain, we here on the rim enjoy a close economic relationship with our neighbors. It may be possible for us to put together a joint deal that none of us could afford individually. Albet, do you happen to know when the next ship leaves for Wayoff?"
Cony shrugged. "Wanderer is loading now, with an expected lift-off time of 2200." He was looking at Jirik appraisingly.
Fanlin seemed to be regaining some of his earlier excitement. "Thank you. You see, Captain, Wayoff is the trade center of our rather informal economic association. With your permission, I'll place a letter on the Wanderer carrying your proposal. The governments of all of the rim worlds have representatives on Wayoff. If they become convinced of the possibility and desirability of this venture, it may be possible to make a deal after all. Will you be on Boondock long enough for us to receive a reply?"
It was Jirik's turn to shrug. "That depends on how long a reply takes, sir. At present, I anticipate that repairs and lading will be complete in about two weeks. I'm afraid that once those are accomplished, delivery date commitments will require us to lift off almost immediately. But, sir," he continued, "I feel it only fair to say that I feel very little hope that such a deal can be consummated. For one thing, it would require that 'substantial prepayment' that Mr. Cony was so concerned about earlier, and I doubt that your friends would care to trust an outsider with what could be millions of credits. I confess that I, myself, would feel reluctant to accept such a sizable amount of someone else's funds."
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