"Tor's been learning about bureaucracies, and the cost of doing business in the Empire," Jirik explained patiently. "I've been hearing about it ever since we left the Library."
Bran chuckled. "I understand. All right, Tor, we get the message; you disapprove. Now how about letting the Captain tell us what's going on, and why we couldn't meet on the Lass."
Tor instantly subsided, turning an attentive face to Jirik.
Jirik shrugged. "To take your last question first, I couldn't be sure that Tomys didn't have the old bitch bugged by now. There've been people climbing all over her all afternoon, offloading cargo. We needed somewhere public." He shrugged again. "Of course, he could have the restaurant bugged, too, but we'll just have to take that chance. I don't want to get as paranoid as he is."
Bran glanced around uncomfortably. "All right, Captain. Now, suppose you tell us what you've done. I've been worried since this morning!"
Jirik looked apologetic. "I know, Bran, and I'm sorry; but I was worried about being bugged. Anyway, I got to thinking. We've been dealing with this ourselves. I decided that it was time to get some help." He told them about talking with the Guild lawyers, and what they had recommended. Then, he told them about his encounter with Tomys, and finished by playing for them the tape of the meeting.
When he finished, Bran leaned back in his seat. "I'm not sure that I would have recommended that action, Captain, but you may have been wise. Tomys was certainly angry!" He grinned.
Tor had listened to the tape with fascination. "What do you think, Captain? Did it help us? If this Tomys is really mad, can he hurt us?
"Damned if I know for sure, kid," Jirik replied. "But, to tell you the truth, I think that maybe it did help us. Oh, we still have to do what Tomys wants, play out the game. But maybe he'll be a little more careful with the Guild looking over his shoulder. Can he hurt us? Definitely. A Class I has a helluva lot of power, if he decides to use it. But, I don't think he'll do anything until his mission is completed, whatever his mission is."
"And, frankly, I don't expect him to do anything nasty to us afterward. That would be sheer vindictiveness, taking out his hurt feelings on us, and I don't think he'll do that. A Class I doesn't get to be a Class I by being petty over hurt feelings."
"You hope!" Bran added sarcastically.
Jirik smiled. "Fervently!" he agreed. They continued to discuss the situation as they ordered and ate. Jirik asked if Bran had had a chance to talk with Tor. Bran nodded.
"Yes," Tor said, "But, Captain, I thought that you'd arranged to avoid having an agent assigned as our Astrogator!"
Jirik nodded. "I tried, kid. But there's no way to be absolutely sure. What if one of the Guild clerks is an Empire agent? He could phony up any records that he wanted to, including the listing dates for Astrogators looking for a berth, and he'd be happy to cooperate with an Alley Class I. We'll still have to assume that whoever we sign on is an Alley spy, and behave accordingly."
"That means that from now on, we don't discuss any of this spook crap on board the Lass. If we have anything to say about it, we'll invite each other out for lunch, or something. And not always at the same restaurant. If this one isn't bugged at the moment, you can bet that it will be by morning. I'm sure that this meeting will be reported to Tomys." He smiled as Tor glanced nervously around.
"You mean we're being followed?" The boy asked incredulously, "Now? Right now?"
Bran chuckled. "Tomys would be a fool not to have us followed," he replied, "And Tomys is no fool. Stop looking around! Just ignore it."
Tor looked uncomfortable, but stopped swiveling his head anxiously.
"That's better," Jirik commented. "Look, Tor, from now on, you'll just have to assume that anything that you do will be watched." He grinned at Tor's grimace of distaste. "Look at it this way," he continued, "You've got a bodyguard keeping you out of trouble. You've never been safer. Tomys is definitely going to make sure that nothing happens to any of us until the job's done. Use your time off to get out and see Alpha. Have a good time."
Tor glowered. "You make it sound as if it were a service that we should be paying for!"
Bran laughed. "It is, son. Believe me, there are a lot of ways that a farmworlder can get into trouble on Alpha. If we didn't have Tomys, I would have suggested a bodyguard. It's a good investment for a first visit on an inner world. Just relax and enjoy your visit, and remember that the only time that we can discuss the Tomys situation is when we're in public off the Lass. All right?"
Tor nodded gracelessly. "I still don't like being followed around, but I guess that there's nothing much that I can do about it!"
The next local morning, Jirik and Tor returned to the Library. As Jirik had predicted, the official with whom they had an appointment was not the one that they needed to reach; and, also as predicted, it took many more credits to continue up the bureaucratic ladder. Finally, they reached the "Assistant Director for Business Management," who had the authority to negotiate the book deal. After some hours' negotiation and a sizeable bribe, they obtained a letter authorizing the copying.
It was late in the local day when the arrangements were finally completed. Tor's outrage had returned, but Jirik pronounced himself happy with both the pace of the negotiations, and the deal that they had made. Before they returned to the space station and the Lass, Jirik made several vidphone calls, arranging appointments with various blank bookchip suppliers for the following day.
The next day, they talked with each of the five suppliers, gathering bids, then returning to the one offering the best deal to sign the contract and arrange delivery to the room in the Library complex that they had been allowed to rent.
As they left the company's office, a weary Tor announced his readiness to return to the Lass, but Jirik insisted that they find an apartment or hotel near the Library that they could use as temporary berthing and headquarters, rather than returning to the ship every local night. Tor was appalled at the cost of hotel accommodations, and only slightly less so at the cost of monthly apartment rentals, but Jirik finally, wearily, pronounced his satisfaction with a small three-room apartment whose main room could be converted from office to sleeping area and back again. Before finally collapsing into bed, Jirik vidphoned Bran on the Lass, giving him the address and directions to the apartment, and asking him to bring down clothing and toilet articles for all of them the following local morning.
By the time a month had passed, Tor had to admit the wisdom of maintaining a local headquarters, despite the cost. The days had attained a dull sameness that left all of them pining for open space. Every morning, they trudged to the Library to begin the seemingly endless task of copying millions of volumes. they had hired six clerks to help, but Bran had estimated that they could save a week if all of them helped. By the end of a local month, they had copied slightly over three million volumes. Since they had purchased copying rights to fifteen million, their progress was not impressive. Jirik managed to rent a larger room in the Library complex, and added six more terminals and clerks.
After two months, they had nearly ten million volumes, but the mind-numbing simplicity of the repetitive tasks was telling on all of them but Bran, who claimed that he simply reread favorite books in memory. Tor had finally begun getting out and sightseeing Alpha, and Jirik had had to be bailed out of jail three times for brawling.
The three had begun celebrating each million volumes copied with a drink at a quiet bar near the Library. They hadn't heard from Tomys, which Jirik and Tor had decided was good news, but which made Bran apprehensive. That Tomys had not forgotten them, however, was made clear at their gathering celebrating the fourteen-millionth volume, when Tomys walked calmly into the bar, and approached their table.
By the time Tomys walked up to the table, the three were watching him warily. He pulled up a chair and joined them without invitation.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said quietly. "I assume that all of you know who and what I am by now." Three heads bobbed in unison.
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br /> "Good," he continued. "I understand that the last of your cargo should be loaded within no more than two weeks. Is that correct?"
Jirik shrugged. "We should be finished with this infernal copying in about a week," he replied, "I'd be very surprised if it took more than a couple of days to get it crated, shipped to the station, and loaded. We've tentatively scheduled a departure window for ten days from now. Did you come to give us instructions?"
It was Tomys' turn to shrug. "Not really. Until you get back to the rim, you don't need any. Rather, I came to you for information. Have you signed on an Astrogator yet?"
Jirik shook his head. "No. I talked to the Guild today, as a matter of fact. I'll be talking to three candidates tomorrow. Now, why don't I think that that's news to you?"
Tomys smiled. "I've no idea. Actually, it is news. I know a lot, Captain, but I'm not omniscient. The reason that I'm concerned is that I have to know as soon as possible which Alliance Customs Port you'll be visiting, if any. I know that you didn't stop at one on the inbound trip, but given the circumstances, that's understandable. However, this time you'll be carrying contraband. I strongly suggest that you stop at one, and that you tell me which one, so that I can jump there before you and make sure that you aren't arrested for smuggling, either there, or by a Patrol ship at a recal stop. I want you to have a completely clean cargo ticket when you reach the rim. How soon will you know which Customs port?"
Jirik grinned. "You're so good to us. If you're asking how soon we'll have a course plotted, I don't know. But if you just want to know which Customs Port, I can tell you that, coming from this sector, I usually stop at Kester's World for customs clearance."
Tomys nodded. "Kester's world it is, then. Please don't get cute, Captain. I'm just trying to help. I'll see you there." He smiled thinly. "But I'm not sure that you'll see me, unless I need to pass some instructions." Tomys turned and walked out, his slight, hunched figure drawing snickers from some of the bar's patrons.
"So, that's a Class I," Bran commented thoughtfully. "I'd bet that one of his main advantages is everyone's natural tendency to underestimate him."
Jirik was scowling. "Yeah. I've known all along what he is, and I still have to consciously remind myself."
Tomys' visit had considerably dampened the mood of the festivities, and the three adjourned early.
As the monumental task of copying began to wind down, Jirik spent less time on the mind-numbing task, and more time preparing for their departure. Over the next week, he began commuting more and more frequently between the surface and the space station, directing stowage of their hard-earned cargo, and using the facilities of the Spacers Guild to research and interview Astrogator candidates.
The Guild had over fifty Astrogators listed as looking for a berth. The fact that the job was temporary, for one run only, limited the applicants, however. Jirik's refusal to consider anyone who had not been listed before Tomys' earliest possible arrival date further thinned the list. Over a period of several days, Jirik interviewed six candidates. His final selection was a man named Jef Kontar.
Kontar was originally from the rim, from Toolie, though he had left there at age twelve. He had been in space nearly thirty years, and had become homesick for the alleged peace and serenity of the rim, Knowing that Kontar's nostalgia was strongly tinged by childhood misconception, Jirik tried honestly to administer a dose of reality, but Kontar was firm in his rose-colored memories. Jirik asked him about Ran Atmos, and Kontar chuckled.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a lot of years, Captain, he replied. "Yeah, we had to learn about him in school, but that's ancient history. Nobody paid much attention to it."
Jirik was uncomfortable. "I think that you'll find that everyone pays attention to him, now. You've been away for a lot of years. You're going to find a lot of changes."
Kontar laughed. "Hell, Captain, I'm not worried. Things change slowly on farm worlds. That's one reason that I want to get back to one. Don't worry, Captain," he continued more seriously "I've been on a lot of worlds in the past thirty years. I think that I can adapt to the one where I was born!"
Jirik shrugged. He'd tried. He did caution the man to go slowly, and to approach Toolie as though it were a new world for him. It was all that he could do to prepare the man for what was sure to be a shock.
Finally, the copying was complete, and Tor and Bran could return from the surface to attend to the million-and-one details of stowage, clearance and liftoff.
Even Kontar breathed a sigh of relief as the Lass inched away from her berth and began maneuvering to her first jump point.
Chapter 13
Once supralight, things settled into quiet routine, for which at least three of them were intensely grateful. Jirik had concealed the contraband battle comp software and weapon specs with the thoroughness of an old space hand, hoping all the while that his caution would be unnecessary. The tension level rose as they approached Kester's World, but evidently Tomys was efficient. The customs inspection was perfunctory, and they were soon on their way. Tomys made no attempt to contact them. The comfortable routine continued.
Their first port of call on the Rim was to be Boondock, so that Valt could rejoin the crew. Jirik had agreed to pay Kondar's passage from Boondock to Toolie on a rim tramp, since Toolie was to be one of their last ports of call, and both Jirik and Kondar preferred that he not deadhead for so long. Their return to Boondock was scarcely cause for celebration among the three regular crew. They would be happy to get Valt back, of course, but all of them felt as though they were walking into danger.
When they were finally grounded and securing, Jirik was wryly amused to see not one, but two ground cars head for the Lass, almost as though they were in a race. As the first roared to a stop, Jirik almost failed to recognize the bronzed, strongly muscled man who jumped out. After a moment, he realized that the man was Valt. Valt began striding toward the Lass as the second ground car came to a more sedate halt, disgorging the Port Captain, Fanlin, and Cony. Jirik's expression tightened as he recognized the Minister of Trade. He sighed deeply. Oh, well, time to get it over with.
Valt bounded up the gangplank as though the gravity was less than 1G, rather than 1.4. Jirik decided that Valt's recovery was more than complete, though he was haunted by the doctor's warning that Valt might be changed. Bran and Tor met Valt at the lock and escorted him below as Jirik turned to greet his other visitors. The Port Captain was officious and pompous in the company of two men high in the planet's hierarchy, but Jirik dealt with the man courteously, and with a measure of respect that had the man glowing. Cony, familiar with both of the men, looked at Jirik appraisingly, but said nothing. Fanlin, however, could barely contain his excitement until the landing formalities were completed.
As the Port Captain turned to leave, Fanlin stopped his restless fidgeting, and pounced. "Well, Captain? How did you do? How many volumes did you get?" He controlled himself with visible effort. "Oh, yes, Welcome back."
Jirik grinned and winked at Cony. "Thank you, sir. I think that we did pretty well. We're carrying fifteen million volumes, of which your share will be 1.6 million. We have each consignment stowed separately to facilitate offloading." He smiled at the obvious excitment on Fanlin's face.
Before Fanlin could resume gushing excitedly, Cony hurriedly stepped forward. "Welcome back, Captain. Please excuse Jon's understandable excitement. Did you have much trouble on the inbound leg?"
Jirik sobered and nodded. "You could say that. We made it with the help of a monumental amount of luck, and a subterfuge that I wouldn't want to try to repeat."
Even Fanlin stopped dancing excitedly, and Cony nodded seriously. "You were right, then. About the pirates, I mean." Jirik nodded.
Fanlin would be denied no longer. "What about the books, Captain? When can we have them? What did you get? How varied is the subject matter?"
Jirik shrugged. "I have no idea. I didn't stop the read them, I just copied them. However, our deal with the Library specified that
the majority of the volumes provided be scientific and technical in nature."
Fanlin was rubbing his hands in delight. "Over a million and a half volumes! The Boondock Library will be the envy of this whole sector!" He strode forward and grabbed Jirik's hand. "Thank you, Captain! Thank you! The entire rim owes you a debt!"
"Yes," Cony added dryly, "But the Captain will receive his payment on Wayoff, remember?"
Fanlin seemed momentarily confused. Then, a comprehending smile crawled across his excited face. "Oh." he replied, "Yes, of course. But I was referring to his contribution to rim society! It was all his idea, remember?"
Jirik stifled a grin at Fanlin's inability to recognize when he was being teased. Cony's face also struggled to remain straight, and he tossed Jirik a large wink.
"How soon can you offload, Captain?" Fanlin persisted, "How soon can we have our bookchips?"
It was Cony who replied. "That depends on how soon we stop bothering the Captain, and let him get on with his business! Why don't you take the car and go on back to the Library? I'll try to help the Captain expedite the unloading. We'll get the cargo to you as quickly as possible."
Fanlin was still excited, but Cony's remark about his presence slowing the unloading had hit a nerve. "Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Uh, I'll go back to my office. Please let me know when the . . . uh . . . cargo is on it's way!"
Assuring him that they would, they ushered the jubilant Fanlin to his car. As the car drove away, Cony turned to Jirik.
"I meant it, Captain. I want to help expedite this, so that you can be on your way, and I can get Fanlin off my back! You can't imagine what it's been like these past few months; I wasn't sure that he wouldn't die from sheer excitement!"
Jirik nodded. "Thank you, sir. We've already arranged for longshoremen to offload the consignment; but I imagine that you could be a great help in expediting our clearances." He grinned. "I don't think that Mr. Fanlin has much of a grasp of the legal formalities involved. He'll probably want to know why he can't have his damned bookchips in an hour or so!"
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