The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING

by Zellmann, William

  "He's experimenting!" Tess's voice came into Cale's head. "He's single-handedly rediscovering the scientific method. Fascinating!"

  Cale suppressed a shrug. "Don't forget King Rajo and his tame wizard," Cale subvocalized. "They've been using the scientific method for 75 years."

  "True, but they were influenced by Empire-era training. This man is rediscovering it himself, without knowing it. I continue to learn about humans, and never fail to find them fascinating."

  "We have brought you a few presents," Cale began, but Dee interrupted.

  "Yes," she said, "but at the moment, I'm most interested in your leg. May I see it?"

  The man grinned and shrugged. "Of course. I had it made from your drawings, and as you can see, I can now get around without my crutch, at least most of the time. The stump does begin to swell and hurt after awhile, and I have to take off the leg and use the crutch for a few days."

  He looked around suspiciously, and then leaned in close to the spacers. "When that happens, I wash the stump in water, and tie clean cloths over it." He stood back, wearing a wide grin. "You see, my lady? Even an old soldier can learn, slowly."

  He stumped over and retrieved a crutch that was leaning against the wall near the door. Returning, he released the straps that secured the wooden leg, and removed it, handing it to Dee.

  The leg consisted of a simple length of wood pole attached to a cup of thick leather large enough to accept his clothed stump. Gathered beneath his stump, the bottom part of his trouser leg provided padding between the stump and the leather of the cup. In all, it was almost exactly as Tess and described and Dee had drawn months before.

  "My biggest problem is the straps," he said. "It's hard to adjust them properly, and I have to constantly readjust them. But," he added quickly, "it's still much better than the crutch. I am very grateful, my lady."

  Dee smiled. "Such appliances have not been used for centuries among the stars, but I did some research at a museum and a library, and we have brought some things which should help." She hesitated. "Uh, I will have to ask you to remove your trousers."

  The man merely smiled and began unbuckling straps. With the straps released, he was free to remove the trousers, including the wadded lower leg forming a pad for his stump. He stood calmly, the crutch bracing him upright.

  Dee was examining the crude peg leg. "With Jumbo's technology, this was the best we could do," she began. "But now that the colony will be here . . ."

  She was interrupted by the simultaneous shocked shouts of both Cale and Ulrik. "Dee!" "My Lady!"

  "You know that deal has not been made," Cale scolded. "It is only being negotiated!"

  Dee shrugged and waved a dismissing hand. "Faugh! Of course it will be made. Oh," she continued, "I know we're not supposed to tell anyone about it, but he needs to know, and I'm sure we can trust him. He's our friend." She turned back to the one-legged man. "The star people will be staying on Jumbo," she said. "King Karel will be deeding them the Cursed Lands for their settlement. But you mustn't tell anyone. As you just heard, the deal is not completed yet."

  The man looked surprised. "The Cursed Lands? Are your people then so powerful as to overcome the ancient evil?" He turned to the two men. "My lady named me 'friend'. This is an honor above my deserving. Have no fear, I will keep your secret faithfully, as a friend."

  Dee nodded firmly. "Good!" she said. "Then we don't have to tiptoe around things. Since the colony will be here, we can give you a much better leg. I have talked to the med techs, and once they are established, they may even be able to help you grow a new leg. But that is star technology, and will take some time to set up." She shrugged. "As far as the Cursed Lands are concerned, it's not so much our power as the fact that the evil magic has weakened over the centuries.

  "Now," she continued, "Ulrik, would you go out to the cart and bring in the package in the blue wrapping? I dare not trust the errand to a servant."

  Ulrik nodded and slipped out the door, returning in only moments with a package some 50 cems long. Dee unwrapped it carefully, revealing something that looked much like the man's peg leg, though with a wide pad at the bottom. Dee set it on the floor beside the soldier, who was examining it with a puzzled expression. It seemed obviously too short to be useful for the soldier.

  But Dee was unaffected. "Put some of your weight on the crutch," she said mildly. "I'm going to slip the prosthesis . . ."

  "Prothewho?" The was completely bewildered by now.

  Dee smiled. "I'm sorry. That's a star people term for 'false leg'," she said. "I'm going to place it under your stump, and raise it into place. After a moment, the sensors will adjust it to the length you need. As soon as you feel support under that leg, I want you to put some weight on it. Stand on it as though you were standing on a real leg, with half your weight on each foot."

  The soldier was looking nervous. "I'll fall!" he said.

  Cale shook his head. "No. I won't let you fall." He tossed the crutch aside, and took the man's arm. "The pros . . . uh leg will adjust itself to you. It must be able to determine your height and weight distribution in order to fit you properly."

  The man shuddered. "It contains spirits? Things that think?"

  Cale shook his head firmly. "NO! There is no magic here, no spirits. Just very small machines. They were made to ensure that you will be able to walk again. Walk well, without a crutch." He glowered angrily. "Call it a gift from the stars if you wish; but do not credit it to magic! Think! What will happen if the people decide we are sorcerers and conjured a new leg for you?"

  The man frowned for a moment, but then the frown faded, to be replaced by a conspiratorial grin. "I really don't care to end my days at the stake. Or that you join me there. It's true, then. You star folk do not fear the magic."

  Cale shook his head. "We call it 'science', and we study it, and master it and bend it to our will. King Rajo and Hiraf have been doing the same thing in Valhalla. Hiraf calls himself 'wizard', but in truth, his and King Rajo's power rests on their ability to read the old books."

  "Read? You mean like scribes?"

  Cale smiled. "Yes, and it's too bad you can't do it. That library on Santiago had quite a few books on distilling liquor."

  The man's eyes widened. "Men wrote books with such knowledge?"

  Cale, grinning, nodded. "Right now, though, let's get you standing on your own two feet."

  The man snorted. "Own one foot, more like." But he stood quietly as Dee eased the prothesis over his naked stump. After a moment, the leg did lengthen, and the man gingerly began shifting weight onto it. Finally, Cale felt the last of the man's weight lift off him.

  Suddenly his eyes widened again and he began to struggle. "No!" Cale shouted. "It's all right. You're feeling strange sensations, but they aren't pain, are they?"

  The man stilled as he concentrated on the sensations coming from his stump. "No," he admitted, "No pain. Just tickling and itching." He grimaced. "A lot of itching!"

  Cale nodded. "The sensors in the leg are connecting to your nervous system. You will be able to walk just like everyone else. You will not have to think about your leg at all." He paused. "We had to make it look like your old one to protect you from witchcraft charges, but the leg is actually very advanced. You'll even be able to run and jump."

  The man was looking dazed. "I will be able to rejoin the Guard?"

  Dee shook her head soberly. "I'm afraid not. It would take years of training to reach that level of performance, and by then . . ."

  "I'd be too old." The soldier finished. He chuckled. "I'm already too old. I guess I'll have to remain an innkeeper."

  By now the odd sensations had ended, and the man was standing bare-legged. He lifted his left leg, and grinned. "No straps!" He said delightedly.

  Dee shook her head. "No, and that leather cup on the top isn't holding anything, either. Once the colony is established, and you can do it without risk, you'll be able to go there and they will put a cover on it that will look exactly like your other
leg. You'll even be able to wiggle the toes. For now, we could give you control, but we could not give you true realism. That will have to wait for regen."

  "Regen?" The dazed, wondering look was still on his grizzled face.

  Dee nodded "In a year or so, the colony's med techs will be ready to grow a new leg onto your stump. That's called 'regeneration'. It's pretty complicated and not many colonies have the capability, but I've already arranged for you to receive the treatments."

  She paused and swallowed before adding, "Uh, I'll have to have a name to give them, so they know you're the patient. It doesn't have to be your real name," she added quickly. "Just a way to identify you."

  "How about 'Rio'?" Cale hurriedly added. They knew that names were a touchy subject on Jumbo. The superstitious populace was convinced that if someone knew your name, he or she could cast a spell on you. So people protected their names even more strictly than their metal. It complicated interpersonal relationships terribly, but from what they had heard, the belief was universal on Jumbo. "Or even 'Soldier'," he added.

  The man stumped around the room, Shaking his head and wearing an awed expression. The spacers exchanged wary glances.

  After a few moments, a slow smile spread over the battered features. "You can really grow me a new leg? A real leg?"

  Cale's reply was wary. "Probably. There are a very few people who can't regenerate, but only very few."

  The man shook his head and swung it between the two spacers. He thumped down on a cask. "And you need my name," he said in a more conversational tone. The smile grew wide. "Well, of course you do!" he shouted, and dissolved into gales of laughter. After a moment, he sobered enough to continue. "If you don't fear magic, why shouldn't you give a friend your name?" He roared with laughter again, finally turning to Dee. He began to struggle to his feet and stopped suddenly as he realized it was no longer a struggle. Carefully, gingerly, he took three steps toward her, and took her hands in his own.

  He bowed deeply. "My lady, I would be delighted to give you my name. I would give it to you were you Hiraf himself, in his starry robes, or the greatest necromancer on Jumbo." He turned to Cale. "And to you, too, sire. You have already saved my life, and now you give me back my leg." He threw a glance at Ulrik. "And you, fine sir, great-nephew of my king. The price of royalty is that everyone knows your name. You and your great-uncle must spend a fortune on mages to cast protective spells."

  He straightened to his full height, and scanned his glance across his three companions. "I am Donord," he said, and then, louder, "I am Donord!" he raised his eyes to the heavens and shouted. "Hear that mages? Hear it, wizards? Witches? I do not fear you and I do not fear your magic, because my friends from the stars do not fear it! I AM DONORD!"

  Chapter 8

  Cale and Dee were stunned. Ulrik was openmouthed, confused expressions of horror, fear and disbelief chasing themselves across his face.

  After a long moment, Cale gave a slight bow. "Hello, Donord. I am Cale, and my lady wife is Delilah, though we call her 'Dee.' You honor us greatly by trusting us with your name. We will be careful to use it only in private."

  Donord shrugged. "Ha! What matter, if I need not fear wizards and mages? It is my name. Use it as you will."

  Cale shook his head. "It is not that easy, Donord," Cale replied. "If you start allowing use of your name, others will begin to wonder why you do not fear the magic. They will wonder what powers you have. You already have them wondering about what wizardry you use to produce your liquor. No, best you share your name only with those you can honestly call 'friend'."

  Donord's expression had turned serious. Now he nodded. "This is wisdom. I have gotten by telling those who ask that I use knowledge from Valhalla, and laughing at their concern, and sending the curious to the metalsmiths to be told the still contains no magic." He chuckled. "That, and making certain to share a taste of my failures, as well as my successes. My customers say that not even a demon could cause something to taste so foul." He sobered. "But I have had to deal with questions about witchcraft and pay mages even now. I will be careful."

  Cale nodded. "Good. Now, I have also brought you some gifts." He gestured with his head, and Ulrik followed him outside. They retrieved the large, paper-wrapped object and a small package Cale slipped into his tunic. Their burden was not particularly heavy, but it was bulky, and they nursed it carefully inside.

  Ulrik was fascinated by the paper wrapping the package. It was so smooth! And so thin! Most of Ulrik's experience of similar materials was with parchment or vellum, scraped animal hides, or mats of the reeds that grew along the Great River, pounded into something resembling a sheet, and dried. He decided that a scribe would trade his left arm for a substance like this. Assuming he didn't run away in fear of witchcraft, of course!

  Ulrik's slow, careful removal of the paper was a contrast to Cale's careless, tearing removal. Once the paper was removed, a large, copper assemblage was revealed, bearing little resemblance to Donord's pot still.

  The bottom resembled a common tub with slanted sides, about a meter in diameter and 30 cems deep. The tub carried a tight-fitting conical cover, with a fifteen-cem tube extending vertically from it for more than a meter. A few cems from the top, a second tube branched off the first, running downward nearly back to the top of the cap. About 30 cems below the top of the larger tube and the same distance above its bottom, two smaller, 3-cem tubes passed through both columns. It stood gleaming golden in the dimness.

  "What is it?" Donord asked.

  Cale grinned. "It's the next step up from your pot still," he replied. "Technically, it's called a 'fractionating column still.' But there's a big bag of small spherical pebbles inside it, so I just call it the 'pebble still.' I understand it can produce much stronger alcohol than your pot still."

  Donord's eyebrows rose. "Really? How does it work?"

  Still grinning, Cale shrugged. "I have no idea. But I also have something that will help you find out." He reached into his tunic and removed the small package contained there. It was a small container of hard plas. Cale opened it to reveal a frame resembling ancient eyeglasses, whose main features were two large dark ovals. The remainder of the container was full of memory chips.

  "I was sure you couldn't read," he continued, "so I had the library make vid copies of all their books on distillation of alcohol." He removed the glasses and fit the frames over Donord's ears. The ovals completely covered Donord's eyes, and he fidgeted, but remained silent as Cale continued, "You put the glasses over your ears like this," he said, "and a memory chip fits into the slot between the eyepieces. Then, you just press this button, and . . ."

  The darkness faded, and a voice spoke into Donord's ears. "Basics of Alcohol Distillation, by Aran Vann." Donord reached for the earpieces but stopped as a picture of a pot still like his own appeared. But this wasn't a picture like those Cale had drawn. In fact, it wasn't even flat! It seemed to float in the air, round and full, spinning slowly. "The pot still is the oldest distillation apparatus . . ." the voice continued. Donord snatched the glasses off. "Witchcraft! This must be magic!" he cried.

  Cale grabbed his hand before he could throw the reader from him. "NO!" he shouted. "Donord, no! It is not magic or witchcraft. It is only star man knowledge. The readers we use, that paint the images on the back of the eye, take too much training. I needed something you could use immediately. It's just a book, Donord. It is something you can use to view all the books in the case." His grin resurfaced. "There are over a hundred books there. If you study them all, you'll know more about distilling than almost any star man!"

  Cautiously, Donord raised the reader to his face. The images were still there, distorted now, and he could barely hear the voice. "Book?" he said weakly. "This is a book? But it talks!"

  Cale nodded, and pushed the frames back onto Donord's unresisting face. Now the image was of a strange, stiff human figure, and the voice was saying, " . . . Ancient Egyptian tomb paintings from old Earth . . ." And there, again was
something clearly recognizable as a pot still like Donord's. He was fascinated. The voice droned on until Cale tapped him on the shoulder. He started guiltily, and quickly slipped the reader off. Cale showed him the activating button.

  "Each of the chips contains over a dozen books," Cale explained. "I'm told that this one is a good basic text, and will teach you about the fractionating column still." He shrugged. "Supposedly, that still is capable of producing alcohol that is almost pure. Certainly too strong to drink. But you can mix it with juices and . . ." His voice trailed off. "Don't worry. You'll learn all about that stuff in all these books.

  Donord waved his hands in the air. "And when am I to have the time? I will never get any sleep! I will have to hire a bartender, who will probably rob me blind . . ."

  Both Cale and Dee erupted into laughter. "Now you sound like an innkeeper!"

  ********

  Cale and Belen watched as a large antigrav lifter moved a stack of furniture from the hold of Greener's Pride.

  "This is the last load," Cale said. "It looks as though your colony is officially established, sire Belen."

  Belen nodded. "It is, indeed. It has been a long month. There will be ceremonies and a very large party tonight," he replied. "Will you and your people be attending?"

  Cale shook his head and grinned. "I'm afraid not. We're anxious to get back to Santiago and see what kind of trouble Zant has cooked up for us. In fact, sire, Captain Tor-Jen has already broken orbit and is on his way to the jump point. That is why I've sought you out. I will need your thumbprint certifying the contract as completed."

  Belen smiled. "Of course." He took Cale's tablet, and applied his thumb to the indicated spot. He handed back the tablet, and took out his own. "I'm also inscribing a letter of recommendation. You and your people went far above and beyond the simple terms of your contract to ensure the success of this colony."