by Peter Grant
"Uh-huh. We called at Potosi a couple of months ago. I guess that's where he smuggled it aboard. Where were you taking it, Murrin?"
"Arecusco," the spacer answered sullenly. "We woulda got there next month. I got a contact there."
"Figures," the Fleet man agreed. "There's an asteroid mining startup in the Arecusco system. Habdab's real popular with miners - gives 'em a high that lets 'em keep working for a couple of days without a break. Kills 'em in the end, of course, because they burn out; but they die rich, I guess. We'll be taking you planetside to face trial, spacer. We don't like drug traffickers here."
"But I wasn't going to sell it - not here, anyway! I just wanted to get it out of sight in case you opened the package! I wouldn't even have brought it here if we hadn't changed our plans! Besides, under Commonwealth law, drug use ain't no crime!"
"Drug use may not be, but peddling the hard stuff sure is! Besides, there's nothing stopping individual Commonwealth planets from passing stricter domestic laws, and Vesta's done that. Recreational drugs aren't illegal, but habdab's anything but recreational. You may be able to plea-bargain your way out of a trafficking charge because you didn't intend to bring it here, but possession of this much is probably enough to get you a three-to-five stretch." The Fleet man turned to the Bosun. "We'll take him to the Cargo Terminal for processing. He'll be sent to the planet under arrest. Your ship's in the clear, of course, because we saw you discover the drugs and take steps at once to secure them and the perpetrator. I'll mention that in my report."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure. I'll need that package as evidence - I'll give you a receipt, of course - plus statements from you and anyone else involved. What made you suspect him?"
"The console operator saw him hide it through our security cameras, and called me over."
"Good for him. We'll need his statement too, and a copy of that vid."
They made their way towards the airlock. As they passed the console, behind which Steve still sat, Murrin slammed to a halt. His face was malevolent. "This is all your fault, Maxwell, you stinkin' stooge! If you'd kept your mouth shut about them charters we wouldn't be here at all, and if you hadn't blabbed to the Bosun, they'd never have found my stash! I'll make you pay for this, boy, you just see if I don't! Someday, somehow, you're gonna get what's comin' to you, or my name ain't Albert Murrin!"
Steve opened his mouth to reply, but the Bosun held up his hand in warning. One of the Fleet security personnel said mockingly, "Congratulations, spacer. You just talked yourself into two additional charges - criminal threatening, and attempted witness intimidation. That should be worth another couple of years on top of your sentence for the drug charges."
Murrin's shoulders slumped again. "Aw, shaddup!"
"I think you should take your own advice, Murrin," the Bosun said, shaking his head. "Right now, every time you open your mouth your jaw's making like an excavator, digging a deeper hole for yourself!"
###
When they'd finished packing their trade goods, the crew headed for their quarters to clean up and pack their personal gear. They'd take it with them to the Cargo Terminal, where the Fleet had arranged temporary billets while Cabot's hospital equipment was installed. Most of them planned to head down to the planet for a week's well-earned rest and recreation.
Steve, Tomkins and the Bosun reported to the First Mate's office, where Fleet security personnel recorded their statements in her presence. "I doubt you'll have to give evidence in court," the detachment NCO reassured them. "What with the drugs, the vid recording and your statements, this is as close to an open-and-shut case as I've ever seen. Murrin's lawyer will surely advise him to plead guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence. If he isn't a complete fool, he'll listen."
"I'm glad to hear it," Scarlatti replied. "I'd not like the ship to be delayed here after our charter's over, or have to land key crew members while we're shuttling to and from Radetski. What sentence d'you think Murrin will get?"
"I'd say he's looking at three-to-five on a possession charge, Ma'am, plus a year apiece on the criminal threatening and witness intimidation counts. If the judge lets them run concurrently, he'll do three years; but given his hostile attitude, which we'll have to mention in our report, the judge may decide to make them consecutive. Knowing our judges, I think that's likely. If so, Murrin will serve a minimum of four and a half years - up to seven if he doesn't behave himself. He says he doesn't have any previous felony convictions, so he's unlikely to be exiled to a prison planet, but he'd better keep his nose clean after this. If he does anything naughty again, that's where he'll spend the rest of his life."
"My heart bleeds for him." Despite her words, the First Mate's dry voice sounded remarkably unsympathetic, Steve thought, covering his mouth to hide a smile. "May I assume the ship's in the clear?"
"Of course, Ma'am. As soon as Spacer Maxwell saw something wrong, he notified your Bosun, who acted immediately to resolve the situation. If he'd waited to report it, things might have been more difficult, but because your crew stopped the crime as soon as it was detected - and because we witnessed them doing that - you're officially OK. I've already notified Orbital Control about that, Ma'am."
"Thank you. The skipper will be relieved to hear it." She looked at Steve. "We owe you our thanks for this, Maxwell, on top of the news of the charter you brought us. You may still be a very junior Spacer, but you're shaping up to be a valuable member of our crew."
Steve flushed. "Er... thank you, Ma'am."
"If you'll excuse us, please, Ma'am?" the NCO interrupted politely. "We've got to deliver Murrin for processing."
"Of course. Thank you for your help."
"Our pleasure, Ma'am." The Fleet spacers left the office, heading for the docking bay.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Scarlatti turned back to Steve. "We can do better than just thanking you, Maxwell. You remember what I said about our incentive plan?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"The Fleet's charter terms are generous - all expenses paid plus 25,000 credits per day, with at least ninety days guaranteed. That means your profit share will be at least 56,250 credits; perhaps a little more, if the charter runs over ninety days."
Steve's jaw dropped in astonishment as Tomkins clapped him on the back. "Nicely done!" the Bosun's Mate said cheerfully. "That's more than two years' net salary as a Spacer Third Class, and more than you'd likely have made in your first few years of private trading while you learned the ropes and built up your cash reserves."
"Yes," the Bosun agreed. "You'll have to pay Commonwealth tax on it, of course, but that's only ten per cent. Have a good time with some of it, but save the rest until you decide where you want to focus your trading. It'll be very useful capital to lay in your initial stock."
"I'll do that, Bosun. Thank you, Ma'am. I guess it'll be paid at the end of the charter?"
"No, we'll transfer it to you as we receive payments from the Fleet. We've just been paid for the first thirty days of the charter, so we'll deposit your share to your League account, just as we do your monthly salary. We'll be sure to designate it as non-salary income, of course, so that the League doesn't deduct its usual percentage." She smiled. "As the Bosun says, you can use some of it to have fun planetside while the ship's fitted out in the Fleet dockyard."
"I reckon I owe both of you a first-rate meal, at the very least," Steve remarked, looking first at the Bosun, then Tomkins. "I'd not be here at all without your help."
"I never say 'no' to free food and drink, 'specially if they're good," Tomkins replied with a grin.
"Neither do I," the Bosun assured him, also smiling. "We'll take you up on that as soon as we get planetside and taken care of some other business. You still planning to join the Fleet when your two years aboard Cabot are up?"
"I sure am!"
"Good. We'll get your recruitment process started while we're planetside, since the Sector Recruitment Office is right here on Vesta. All that means right now is that they'll
take your details, run you through a truth-tester for a preliminary security test, do a basic medical exam, and gather details to do a background check on Earth. That takes months, of course, given the slowness of interplanetary inquiries. Both of us, being former Fleet - and the skipper too - will submit written recommendations to go with your application. That way, when the time comes, everything will be on file and ready to go. It'll save you several months of kicking your heels while you wait for the initial steps to be completed."
"Gee, thanks! I didn't know you could do it that way."
"The Fleet's been recruiting people for a long time. They've got to follow their procedures and deal with all the usual red tape, but they appreciate candidates who get all their ducks in a row in good time. There's also that jade dealer I mentioned back at Old Home Earth. We'll pay him a visit."
"Thanks, Bosun. I'd forgotten about that."
"I hadn't. We need to know what we're dealing with, and he's the best person I know to tell us."
Chapter 11: June 14th, 2837 GSC
"Did you print out those photographs?" the Bosun asked as they walked towards the business district.
"I've got them right here." Steve patted his uniform jacket, feeling the envelope in an inside pocket.
"Give them to me. Remember, as far as Lamington's concerned, you're just a junior Spacer who happens to be along for the ride this morning."
Steve handed over the envelope. "I still don't understand the secrecy, Bosun. Why don't you want to show him the knife itself? Don't you trust him?"
"You took it off what must have been at least a middle-ranking member of the Lotus Tong. Surviving Lotuses may want it back. If we use photographs, I can tell Lamington I saw it at Old Home Earth. That's true, of course, although it's not the whole truth. If we show him the real thing, and it turns out others want it, and word gets out that you have it... things might get sticky. I want to avoid that risk if at all possible, for your sake and the ship's."
Steve nodded. "That makes sense. I don't want a tong after my scalp again! By the way, speaking of tongs, how did the Dragon Tong become so powerful? Everyone talks about them with bated breath, but I've never understood why."
"I know something about it from my brother Henry, who's in law enforcement on New Brisbane. He told me that, at the time of the Scramble for Space, Chinese triads and tongs were under enormous pressure from their government. It saw them as rivals for its authority and the loyalty of its people. Many of them saw the Scramble as an opportunity to escape. They sold their assets, gathered their members, and emigrated en masse. They tried to arrive on their new planets already organized and fully functional, so they could take over the local crime scene before other crooks could develop structures of their own. Quite a few succeeded in doing that.
"The Dragons had a broader, longer-term vision. They started out by investing in one of Earth's orbital shipyards, training some of their people to build and maintain spacecraft, and sent a bunch more to be trained as spacers. They set up a labor brokerage and hired them out as crew to spaceship operators, making a normal commercial profit while their people gained experience. Over the course of a century or so they built up their own freight company, with its own fleet of ships, and crews that were completely loyal to the Tong. That gave them an exclusive interstellar criminal network under the cover of a legitimate cargo operation."
Steve frowned. "But surely any planetary government that caught on to what they were doing could have shut them down?"
The Bosun shook his head. "Don't forget, their early space operations were completely legal, so there were no grounds to shut them down. That also taught them how interstellar commerce worked, so that when they got into less legal activities, they knew who to bribe or threaten to keep things quiet. In due course they moved most of their people to Qianjin, a minor planet seven hundred light years from Earth. It's said to be their headquarters now, and they're rumored to control its government from top to bottom, although no-one's ever been able to prove either claim in an interplanetary court. I wouldn't recommend you say that on Qianjin, either!"
Steve snorted with laughter. "That might be terminally short-sighted!"
"Oh, yeah! They re-registered their corporation and its ships there, which took them out from under the thumbs of other planets to a large extent. Once they had that cover, they concentrated on interplanetary crime. For example, they'd arrange to swap high-value, low-bulk stolen goods between planets. That gave criminals on both worlds goods to sell that weren't 'hot' in the eyes of local law enforcement. The Dragons took their cut off both sides of the transaction, of course.
"They used their profits to set up more 'front' companies across the settled galaxy - freight lines, import and export agencies, restaurants and nightclubs, you name it. They were all legitimate businesses that provided great cover for their criminal activities, and helped to launder the profits, too. Over time they've become enormously rich and very powerful. They're said to have influence over the governments of several other planets besides Qianjin now, giving them diplomatic and political cover and multiple secure bases.
"Law enforcement would dearly love to shut them down, but they've got so many tentacles on so many planets that it's effectively impossible. Also, they act mostly as brokers and facilitators for other crooks. They commit very few crimes themselves - although word has it that when they do, they tend to pull out all the stops and go for really big jobs. Be that as it may, it's tough to prove anything against them in court. The cops keep an eagle eye on them, but that's often all they can do. The Dragons keep a real low profile, too. They seem to think that if the media aren't talking about them, there won't be much public pressure or support to move against them. They're probably right about that. Henry gets real frustrated about it sometimes."
"Have they ever tried to interfere with Cabot?" Steve asked.
"Not that I know of, but then, they don't need to. There are more than enough crooked spaceships for them to use without meddling with people like us. I've run into them a couple of times on different planets, and always treated them with cautious respect. No sense in causing trouble with them - I don't want to have to watch my back for the rest of my life! I'd rather stay neutral towards them. That way they don't make trouble for me, and I mind my own business where they're concerned. I suggest you do the same."
"I will, Bosun. Thanks for telling me all this. It's a side of the settled galaxy I didn't know at all."
"Read up about it. You've chosen a career field, whether as a merchant or a military spacer, where you'll run into interstellar crime more often than most. The more you know about what's going on out there, the better equipped you'll be to handle anything that might arise."
"Will do."
Cardle gestured to a storefront. "Here we are. Keep quiet unless I bring you into the conversation, OK? Lamington seemed trustworthy when I traded with him a few years back, but I don't know enough about him to be sure of that. I'd rather not take unnecessary chances."
"Aye aye, Bosun."
They entered through a glass door, an entrance bell tinkling melodiously. The shop was dimly lit, and heavily carpeted to keep it as quiet as possible. Several tall, narrow glass shelving units were placed at irregular intervals. Spotlights illuminated jade figures on each shelf. Steve was fascinated by the softly gleaming stone, in shades varying from translucent off-white to a shimmering deep green. He bent to look more closely at a carving of a dolphin leaping from the waves.
An elderly man stepped through a curtained alcove at the rear of the store. Steve noted that his face showed traces of mixed Caucasian and Far Eastern ancestry. His skin was lined and wrinkled, but his eyes were bright and alert.
"May I help you?" he asked, then looked more closely at his customers. His face registered surprise. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Cardle! It must be several years since we did business together."
"It is, Mr. Lamington. I'm surprised you remember me."
"I'm not likely to forget those jades you b
rought in! There were some excellent pieces among them - in fact, I was so taken with one that I added it to my personal collection. I do hope you've brought some more?"
"No, I'm looking for information this morning, if you'd be so kind. I came across a very unusual jade piece during my last visit to Old Home Earth. I have photographs of it. I wondered if you'd know anything about it."
"I'll be glad to take a look. Please come into my office. The light's better there. Who's your friend?"
"He's not a friend - he's one of my crew. We have work to do when I finish here. This is Spacer Third Class Maxwell."
"I see."
Steve noted the shop-owner didn't so much as glance at him after that. Clearly, after the Bosun's dismissive comment, someone of his lowly rank wasn't considered important.
The old man led them through the curtained doorway into a small, brightly-lit room with a central table surrounded by several chairs.
"Please sit down."
The Bosun did so, pulling out the contents of the envelope as Steve sat down next to him. He spread the photographs on the table. Lamington bent to peer at them, then straightened with a sudden hiss of astonishment.
"I - but - this is incredible! When and where did you see this knife? Where is it now?"
The Bosun affected surprise. "I came across it back at Old Home Earth. Is it something special, Mr. Lamington?"
"I - that is... my goodness, Mr. Cardle, you've given me a start this morning! D'you mean to tell me you truly don't know what this is?"
"It's a knife, of course, although I presume it's decorative rather than functional."
"If it's what I think it is, it's a lot more than just a knife." Lamington's voice was almost reverent, Steve thought. "Is the blade about fourteen centimeters long? Does it have a wooden scabbard?"
"Yes to both, if I remember correctly. It seemed to be in rather poor condition. There were several hairline cracks along the blade - one extended halfway through it. There were some chips out of the edge of the blade as well. I thought it couldn't be worth much, in that condition."