The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING
Zellmann, William
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Jumbo
New Home
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
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About the Author…
The Privateer 2:
AN HONEST LIVING
By
William Zellmann
Text Copyright 2013
William Zellmann
All rights reserved
Chapter 1
"That's strange. Jazeer is hundreds of light years from here." Mada Terkan turned the small package over and over in her hand. She hated mysteries!
This one was a simple, small box, some 8 centimeters square and two high. It was unmarked except for the address: "Director, Pirate Victim Relief Fund, Verdara." There was no return address, simply the postmark from Jazeer, dated about two months ago.
Her assistant, Jake Rolf, shook his head in exasperation. "Well, you're not going to learn anything just looking at the box. Open it up!"
Mada shrugged, looking embarrassed. "You're right. Let's see what it is." She passed her unsealer over the box, and then slowly lifted the top. Inside was a simple black cloth, crumpled and apparently wrapped around something. "There's something here," she said, carefully removing the cloth and revealing a small, handwritten note on common plas. She spread the cloth on her desk and she and Jake stared at the small pebbles revealed. She looked at the note. "FOR ATLANTEA," was all it said, in large, crude, block letters.
Mada picked up a stone. "What is it?" she asked, but before he could answer, the warmth of her palm caused the stone to burst into coruscating color. She gasped.
So did Jake. "Sheol!" he exclaimed. "That's a sunstone! I saw one once. The President's wife was wearing it."
Mada dropped the stone back into the box as though burned by it. "It can't be a real sunstone, can it?"
Jake was regaining his shattered composure. He shook his head. "I don't know, Mada. But I think you'd better get this box into the bank safety deposit box as soon as possible." He paused. "No. I think you'd better take the box to Sire Soro. He's a jeweler. If anyone would know a sunstone, it's him."
Sire Soro was flabbergasted. It took him only a few moments to announce the verdict.
"Mada," he said, a shocked look on his face, "What you have here are twelve sunstones, ranging in size from five to nine millimeters. This is the largest collection I've ever seen, and I've only even heard rumors of one larger. They're worth millions of Alliance credits. And they just came in the mail?"
"Yes," Mada replied in a hushed tone. "In an unmarked box, with a note that just said 'For Atlantea'."
Sire Soro frowned. "I think you'd better get these into a bank vault immediately. And I must warn you; the authorities are going to be very curious about a collection of unset sunstones like this. I suggest you contact them right away."
Mada called the police from Sire Soro's office. In minutes, two men in plain clothes entered the office, displaying the ornate badges of the planetary police. One borrowed Sire Soro's jewelry scanner and ran it over each stone before escorting Mada, and the stones, to the bank. The other accompanied Jake back to Mada's office to retrieve the box and note.
The mystery was never solved.
"It doesn't seem likely," the Director of the Planetary Police finally told Mada, "but my best guess is that one of the pirates that hit Atlantea two years ago grew a conscience, and thinks this is restitution."
Mada looked grim. "Pirates don't grow consciences. And even a hundred sunstones couldn't make restitution for the horrors of Atlantea."
The Director shrugged. "Maybe it was his first raid. But you have them now. I'd suggest you announce a public auction. Advertise it all over the sector. You'll draw in jewelers, gem dealers and just plain buyers from all over. This will be the largest sunstone auction in history. And who knows? The sector-wide publicity might bring in a lot of new contributions to the Fund."
"But, if they're pirate loot . . . "
He cut her off. "We can't say that. We simply don't know. Believe me, if we could prove any of those stones came from Atlantea, we'd have seized them long ago." He smiled. "I'm actually glad we can release them to you. You'll use the money a lot more effectively than the government would."
The auction brought in the equivalent of over two hundred million Alliance credits, and the publicity brought in another thirty million in contributions. Thanks to the volunteered services of a financial advisor, the money was invested, and the charity used only the interest, not the principal. Still, that amounted to twenty million per year, money badly needed; there was much misery to fight, with more every day.
Hundreds of light years away, Cale Rankin never saw the news reports. But he was sleeping better these days.
********
Cale Rankin grinned as he reached down and patted Dee's bottom.
She whirled on him, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "You stop that!" she said with mock ferocity. "Especially in public," she continued in a murmur, her smile mischievous.
"If a man can't even pat his wife's…" Cale began, but Dee rolled her eyes.
"Not on Santiago, and not in public." She interrupted. She rolled her eyes again. "God! Married for one month and you've turned into an insatiable lecher!"
Cale's grin was wide. "And you love it!" he said. And he loved her. He had loved her almost since they'd met, when she'd been brought aboard his ship bound and gagged. Even then he'd been struck by her shoulder-length chestnut hair and those amazing green eyes. They were nearly the same height, at 172 cems, and the contrast between her fair skin and his own olive complexion and black hair often caused people to turn to watch them pass.
Dee's face relaxed into a smile. "Yeah, I guess I do. But we're almost there, and you'd better get your mind off my bottom and onto business!"
Cale held up his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay! All business. But I won't promise to get my mind completely off your bottom!"
Dee sighed and shook her head. "Men!" She said, struggling to restrain a smile. "Anyway, we're here."
"Here" was a storefront in an upscale area of Santiago City. Large, colorful banners proclaimed it the office of "Colonies, Inc! From planetary surveys to turn-key colonies, we are your key to a new life!" Similar-themed banners and posters covered the entire storefront.
Dee snickered. "Zant isn't exactly subtle, is he?"
Cale laughed aloud. "When was the last time you thought Zant was subtle?"
Her smile widened. "Never, I guess." She shrugged. "But I like him."
Zant Jenfu rose from a large desk as they entered his office. Zant was a large, heavy-set man. The leathery lines in his face were softening and his tan fading, now that he was living an indoor life. His smile was wide and genuine as he greeted them, and then turned to the three other occupants of the office.
"Sire Belen, sire Perez, sire Padilla, may I present my partners in this endeavor. Sire Cale Rankin and Mistress Delilah Raum-Rankin. Sire and Mistress Raum-Rankin are our scouts. They will perform the initial survey."
The men had risen at Dee's entrance, and all three bowed over her proffered hand. "Please, gentlemen," Dee prote
sted. "We are married, not just life-mated. I'm simply Mrs. Delilah Rankin, now."
The small, pudgy man who had been introduced as "Sire Padilla" smiled and bowed again. "Ah!" he said, "It is indeed an honor to meet a young couple who respect the old ways." The tall, thin, older man introduced as Sire Belen smiled widely and nodded agreement.
"I hope you gentlemen will excuse our translators," Cale said as they took their seats. "I'm afraid Santiagan is not one of our skills."
Padilla waved dismissingly. "No matter. We appreciate your courtesy in making it unnecessary for us to speak standard."
"Well," Zant said with a tinge of impatience, "Let's get to it." He turned to Cale and Dee. "These gentlemen represent the Greener movement here on Santiago. I'm afraid Santiago's war with Ilocan last year has had unfortunate effects for their group."
Sire Perez was a slim, elegant, distinguished looking man. He snorted. "That foolish war has had unfortunate effects on our entire planet. It is not a pleasant thing to lose a war. And now, those fool politicians are trying to once again stoke the hate and resentment." He shrugged. "I was surprised that Presidente Calderon had the intelligence and the courage to admit defeat, and to even work with our former enemies. He will be destroyed in the election, of course. But to hear the opposition, they're ready to start the whole thing again. We must escape."
Sire Belen waved a dismissal. "Enough. We are not here to discuss politics." He turned to Cale. "In case Señor Jenfu has not mentioned it, we are what is called a "back to the land" movement. Our members yearn for the simplicity of an agrarian culture. No," he added hastily, "we are not those foolish extremists who wish to eliminate government and destroy civilization. We are very aware that we are as dependent on the trappings of civilization as everyone else. It is not 'evil' to use power to heat and cool our houses, or to cook, especially when that power is obtained through the natural process of radioactivity, or the energy of the sun.
"No, we simply choose to limit our use of what are called 'modern conveniences.' Our crops are grown in the soil and under the sun of Santiago, not in hydroponic tanks under growth bulbs. People, not machines, grow them without the use of chemicals. They are raised with care and love."
"And they show it," Padilla put in. "Our fruits and vegetables are the best on Santiago. We have been shipping them around the planet, and even off-planet, occasionally."
Belen threw him a glare as he resumed. "Our produce is a premium product, for which we have been able to command a premium price."
He frowned. "Unfortunately the war has thrown Santiago into a severe depression, and the tax increases enacted by our outgoing Senate are set to consume the little capital remaining. There are few left who can afford our produce." He straightened. "Our community has done very well. But the current and future direction of this planet seem intended to beggar us. We prefer to invest our wealth in relocating our entire community to a planet more amenable to our way of life. We are prepared to spend whatever is necessary to establish a colony on a suitable world.
"But it cannot be just any world. If we invest our futures, it will not be in a world that will develop a heavily urbanized culture in a few years. We must be certain that our planet will be an agrarian paradise, not just for us, but for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren."
Cale frowned. "You realize, sire, that such a planet is likely to be rather primitive. Agrarian planets are rarely technologically advanced."
Belen smiled and nodded. "Of course, sire. We are not naïve. We plan to take plenty of acceptable technology with us. We have actually invested quite a lot of investigation into the subject, and we are confident we will manage. But only on the right world."
"Yes," Zant put in. "And I would like to report, gentlemen, that we may have found that planet." The three men straightened in their chairs, and Padilla smiled brightly.
"Of course," he continued, "it will take a planetary survey to be certain; the planet to which I refer has been out of touch for some five hundred years."
"Five hundred years?"
Zant nodded. "Yes, sir. And it was not an agrarian world at that time. However, it seems virtually certain that it is such a world now, if it is even still inhabited."
There was a gabble as the three men tried to talk at once. Zant held up a hand. "Please, gentlemen. Permit me to be systematic in my description. That way I won't forget anything!"
That brought smiles, and the visitors relaxed slightly.
Zant consulted a screen on his desk. "The planet is called 'Jumbo.'" He began. "This is because it is much larger than most Earthlike planets, but is far less dense, with a gravity of only.84G. It also lacks most of the heavier elements. Scientists are surprised it was able to develop and maintain an atmosphere." He paused. "This lack of heavy elements makes the probability of future heavy industrial development remote.
"Toward the end of the Empire," he resumed, "Jumbo developed into a vacation world. Visitors came to relax in the low gravity, to swim in seas where they could not sink, and to soar in ultralight "aircraft" that could stay aloft for days. Tourism made Jumbo prosperous.
"The planet was never heavily populated; at its peak its population was just less than a hundred million, nearly all doing work somehow related to the tourist trade. The entire planet had only seven cities of various sizes, most located in favored tourist destinations."
He looked up as Belen asked, "It sounds idyllic. Now tell us the bad news."
Zant smiled and shrugged. "There was certainly bad news 500 years ago. The old Empire records indicate that Jumbo, like most Empire planets of the time, began to experience financial problems. As the Empire declined, fewer people could afford to vacation off-planet. Tourism declined, Jumbo's prosperity faded, and that led to the rise of anti-Empire sentiment. The planet's residents became increasingly hostile to the Empire and worse, to the Empire citizens that were their customers. This oppressive atmosphere on what was supposed to be a 'holiday' planet depressed tourist traffic even more and helped create a downward spiral.
"The Empire governor reported the unrest and the fact that the Empire was becoming a scapegoat for the planet's ills. By then, though, the Empire was too weak to be concerned with a planet that contributed nothing of substance to it.
"The Sector Viceroy sent a Minister Plenipotentiary to address the Planetary Council. The address turned into a surprise Independence Proclamation, the Empire "granting" the planet total independence, and recognition as a sovereign planet. While the Minister was addressing the Council, work crews from the Minister's accompanying destroyer were stripping the Empire Governor's Palace and evacuating the Governor and his family. As soon as the Minister finished reading the proclamation he boarded a shuttle, and in less than an hour, the Empire had abandoned Jumbo. The Minister had promised that an Ambassador would be appointed, but with the Governor's palace stripped and vacant, it was obvious even then that would not happen."
Perez shuddered. "Even for the Empire, that was pretty raw."
Zant nodded grimly. "It certainly wasn't the Empire's finest hour. The political chaos that followed frightened away the last of the tourist ships and traders. The last report we have is from an Empire Star Lines Beta-class liner. The Captain refused to ground his passengers because of 'civil unrest.' There are no further records."
"And you think that is our 'ideal world'?"
Zant's grin resurfaced. "Actually, yes, I do. Consider. The lack of heavy elements protects you against heavy development. The peak population was about a hundred million. If the chaos were that bad, I would expect that millions died. Without a continuing resupply of the heavier metals, the number of people the planet could support is limited, and recreation workers are not well equipped for survival.
"I've lived a survival lifestyle. I would not be surprised to learn that the population fell to a million or so, or that there are less than ten million there now, total. The cities are certain to be ruins by now, even if they weren't destroyed in the unrest." He looked at
each of them. "You, gentlemen, will certainly be the most technically sophisticated people on that world." He chuckled. "They'll probably call you 'wizards'."
Perez shuddered again. "It would be like settling a cemetery. Or robbing a corpse."
Zant snorted. "Ridiculous! Those people killed their world five hundred years ago. Should we allow their descendants to live a stone age existence and allow a prime agricultural planet to go to waste?"
Belen turned to his companion. "There are no rotting corpses there, Humberto. Just ruined cities. Five hundred years ago is ancient history. At least wait until these people complete their survey before you dismiss it so casually."
Perez looked doubtful, but he nodded.
Belen turned back to Cale. "So. What will you do? How will you proceed?"
Zant replied smoothly. "As with all aspects of our program, The client has many options for the survey, each building upon the last.
"All of them start with gathering all available records. We know that Jumbo was completely terraformed, and can support human life. We will, of course, get the terraforming records, to compare with the results of our own survey. From there on, the simplest and least expensive option is a simple orbital survey. The scouts will orbit the planet, take sensor readings, and produce a 'ball of twine' three-dimensional map of the planet from orbit. Optionally, we can equip them with probes they can send down to the planet for detailed examination of likely sites.
"The next level includes actually landing on the planet, for 'hands-on' examination. If you wish, a low-level 'ball of twine' map can be built from flitter flights. That, however, is quite a costly operation."
Cale smiled. "You see," he explained, "first, such a map would take weeks, perhaps a month, to complete. And then, of course, the map must be made by day, and we are certain to be seen and perhaps even pursued by the locals." He shrugged. "The risks are high, and price reflects that." He shrugged. "Since Jumbo is so large, we may have to ground overnight several dozen times, at various locations."
Zant nodded and continued. "The danger element is why we do not recommend that option. A more reasonable option, however, is for the scouts to actually ground and contact the 'natives' . . . "
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