"True, but you can't have villainy without a villain, and we haven't found any. In fact, we haven't found anything. So why don't we go home?"
"Because," Miss Schlupe said firmly, "we don't dare take a chance on being wrong."
To give credence to his presence on Vezpro, Darzek had opened a branch office of the Trans-Star Trading Company, While Gud Baxak, in his thorough but pedestrian way, developed a respectable volume of trade, Darzek and Miss Schlupe went their separate ways every morning, each searching for a trail that was nonexistent or had long since faded. They met again at night, in a large apartment adjoining the Trans-Star office - for such was the common business and living arrangement on Vezpro.
Darzek undertook to investigate the Nifron C debris, and he actually identified the manufacturer of some discarded containers and even established which manufacturing lot they had come from. That lot had, alas, been shipped across a large chunk of the galaxy, and the scientific expedition very easily could have acquired those particular containers on some world close to the Nifron system or on any of a thousand worlds in between - because they were bought by food-processing companies that filled them and shipped them along to their own customers. Taking another approach, Darzek had a computer study made to determine what food-processing companies used containers and film-packing materials of the types that originated on Vezpro and were abandoned on Nifron C. When the total passed one hundred and forty-seven thousand, with wholesale traders in the millions and retail outlets utterly beyond count, he cancelled the project.
Miss Schlupe undertook to extend the investigation of the unfortunate Qwasrolk, who miraculously was still alive on Skarnaf, though comatose and expected to die at any moment. She began by hiring and training her own investigative force of natives, and with their help she managed to dig somewhat deeper into Qwasrolk's past. She talked with his fellow workers, found three places where he'd lived during his stay on Vezpro, interviewed landlords and neighbors. He had been ordinary and completely colorless - almost antisocial - in his private life, but his fellow workers thought him brilliant. He had moved away suddenly with his tenancy paid a full two terms in advance, something unheard of, at the time he resigned his job. No one knew where he had gone.
Thus both their trails ended. Miss Schlupe kept her investigators tenaciously digging, however unpromising the results, but she and Darzek turned their attention to the only other possible source of a clue on Vezpro, the Vezpronians themselves. These were a serious, hard-working people: tall, distortedly human-looking (if one could overlook their triple arms and legs, their multifingered arms without hands, and the complete absence of body hair). They dressed in such flamboyant colors that Darzek slyly suggested to Miss Schlupe that she start importing brightly patterned remnants to cover the gleaming baldness that met their gazes everywhere.
Darzek, returning late to the rather Spartan rooms that constituted a luxury apartment on Vezpro, halted in the doorway and stared. Miss Schlupe sat in the center of the windowless pentagon that served as their living room, rocking vigorously in a gleaming white rocking chair. She had been at it for some time, because the thick, gaudily colored floor piece - as the Vezpronians called rugs - was rucked up, and her rocking had become bumpy.
"Where did you get it?" Darzek demanded.
"I found the strangest little street of shops in a tunnel under the city," she said. "I suppose it's kind of a museum piece, and the natives visit it to gloat over the primitive ways of their remote ancestors. There are all kinds of handicrafts made and sold there, and I saw this character making things by hand out of plastic, so I drew the design for this and stood over him until he got it right. He did a good job. How was the theater?"
Darzek dropped onto a freakishly shaped lounge and kicked his shoes off. A fellow trader had generously invited him to a theater party, and he had thought a glimpse of Vezpronian night life might be amusing. He had been wrong. "I needed a laugh or two," he said. "I didn't get any."
"What did you think of Vezpronian culture?"
"I wouldn't call their theater 'culture.' There's some moral objection to live actors, so they use robots. Or androids. Or maybe 'dummies' would be a better term - the whole thing reminded me of a ventriloquist show without the ventriloquists. They were offstage using radios, I suppose. The presentation was a morality play based on an incomprehensible religion."
"You didn't go to a theater," Miss Schlupe said. "You went to church."
"Impossible. There was no offering."
"You went to church," Miss Schlupe repeated firmly. "Vezpro has quite good theaters, if you can put up with the wailing they call music. What you saw is the Zarstamb, which is a kind of evangelical show run by the Zarstans, who hail from the world of Zarst."
"That's this system's sixth planet, isn't it?" Darzek asked. "I didn't know it was habitable. It shouldn't be habitable. It's too far from the sun."
"Habitable or not, that's where they come from. 'The Zarstans are a religious sect of scientists and technologists."
Darzek shrugged. "Why not? There are religious sects of everything else."
"I thought their robots were amazing."
"Probably they were," Darzek said. "'Amazing' and 'entertaining' are two entirely different concepts. As for the religion -"
He broke off as Gud Baxak entered excitedly from the office area of their quarters. Darzek's chief trading assistant was enjoying himself on Vezpro - being triple limbed himself, he seemed to have a curious affinity for the Vezpronians, even though his native planet was on the other side of the galaxy and his thick body and strangely shaped head made him look fully as alien as Darzek did. "Visitors!" he whispered.
"At this time of night?" Darzek said resentfully. "What are they nocturnal aliens?"
"One is a Vezpronian," Gud Baxak said, his voice vibrant with awe. "The other is an alien of some sort but not a nocturnal." He paused. "The Vezpronian says he is the masfiln!"
Darzek got to his feet and retrieved his shoes. That seemed the least he could do, since the masfiln was the premier or president of Vezpro. The world had a highly democratic society; the masfiln was frequently seen in public, mingling freely with the masses, and Vezpronian society seemed to function with commendably informal etiquette. But Darzek's hunch was that one ought to receive the masfiln at home while wearing shoes.
"Probably he wants to buy a babushka," Darzek told Miss Schlupe. "Would you like to be introduced to high society, or would you rather snoop?"
"I'll snoop," Miss Schlupe said. "I may want to meet these characters when they won't know me."
"Use the panel, then."
Darzek had installed a one-way panel that looked into the trading office. He waited until Miss Schlupe had made herself comfortable there, and then he followed Gud Baxak into the presence of the visitors.
They got to their feet to greet Darzek. The Vezpronian was elderly - as indicated by the mass of wrinkles on his bald head - and conservatively dressed in pale lavender. Darzek had seen the masfiln several times at a distance, and he recognized him at once.
But Darzek had never seen his companion, and the life form was new to him. An enormous head sported a tremendous shock of orange hair, or something like hair. The skin possessed a peculiar, deathlike tint of green. There were six limbs, but they obviously functioned as two short legs and four stubby arms, whereas the much larger Vezpronians had three lengthy specimens of each. Finally, this alien's limbs were attached to a ridiculously small body.
Gud Baxak, with much ceremony, introduced Gul Darr, trader of Primores. Then he discreetly slipped away to his own quarters.
"I am Min Kallof, Masfiln of Vezpro," the Vezpronian announced. "This is Naz Forlan, my Mas of Science and Technology. We apologize for disturbing you so late."
Darzek bowed. "Such an honor rarely comes the way of an ordinary trader. It is hardly to be called a disturbance, at any time. All of the hospitality this humble office affords is yours." He got the two of them seate
d again, this time maneuvering them into chairs where Miss Schlupe would have an unobstructed view of them. He seated himself nearby.
The masfiln waited politely until Darzek had managed to position himself on a chair designed for occupants with more and differently arranged legs. Then he leaned forward. "Gul Darr, trader you may be, but we know that you are not ordinary. We have been referred to you by Supreme itself. Why this is we have no idea, but when the message arrived we sought for you at once."
Darzek assumed his most modest mien. "Many of us whose central offices are located on the capital world are occasionally asked to perform small services for the Council of Supreme or the various governmental departments of the Synthesis."
"It is not a service that we require," the masfiln said. "Supreme has referred us to you for counsel."
"You are welcome to any I am capable of offering."
"To begin with, the government of Vezpro received a message that informed us - ".
The Mas of Science and Technology spoke for the first time. His voice was the softest Darzek had ever heard. Every word was a caress and yet uttered with a precision rarely experienced with the more complex form of galactic speech. And that soft, precise voice filled the room. "Perhaps it would be well to determine first if this really is the trader Gul Darr."
The masfiln gestured apologetically. "To be sure. With an issue as critically important and confidential as this one -"
"Your caution does both of you credit," Darzek murmured. "But I, too, like to be certain of whom I am counseling. Naturally a poor trader does not move in social circles where the masfiln and his delegates are known to him personally."
The two exchanged uncomfortable glances. Darzek, secretly amused, let them make it their own problem. They had come to see him. Finally they both produced identification credentials that were the strangest of their kind that Darzek had ever seen. They were small rectangles of transparent material, and when Darzek looked at its owner through one of them, the moment he had the face properly framed it appeared on the transparency along with a printed identification in both the Vezpronian and the galactic scripts.
Having identified his visitors, Darzek produced a credential he had prepared for himself before he left Primores. In impressive language it identified him as a special emissary of Supreme. His was a blank sheet until he impressed it with his solvency credential, the invisible palm tattoo that served as a universal identification in galactic society. Immediately it became alight with his photo and a statement of his authority.
The two of them read it with an awe that approached Gud Baxak's. "Supreme does indeed have confidence in you," the masfiln remarked. "Now I understand why we were referred to an unknown trader named Gul Darr."
Darzek said politely, "The Council of Supreme needs many eyes and ears to govern a galaxy, and it may be that I can serve both the council and yourselves better if the world of Vezpro knows me only as Gul Darr, the trader. I ask, therefore, that you keep my official status secret."
The Mas of Science and Technology rubbed his bushy head fretfully. "These matters are beyond our experience. So is this communication, concerning which Supreme has referred us to you for counsel."
He passed an indited sheet to Darzek. The material was an unusual, ultrathin metal with a weave like cloth. The writing, in the common galactic script, had been produced by a mechanical inditer, probably a voice dictator.
HAVE YOU HEARD WHAT HAPPENED TO NIFRON D? VEZPRO, TOO, WILL BE TURNED INTO A SUN ON THE FIRST DAY OF THE NEW CYCLE UNLESS MY ORDERS ARE FULFILLED. I WILL PRESENT THEM LATER, AFTER YOU HAVE HAD TIME TO 'INVESTIGATE THE NIFRON SYSTEM AND CONTEMPLATE THE FATE OF ITS FOURTH PLANET. FOR FUTURE COMMUNICATIONS, CODEXRT.
"What attempts have you made to trace this letter?" Darzek asked. They regarded him blankly. In a society that had no crime, scientific police work was virtually unknown. The world's proctors would be concerned almost exclusively with accidents, crowd movement, matters of industrial safety, and the like. The proctors on Skarnaf who had investigated the radiation victim so effectively obviously had unusual talents.
They could tell him nothing about the letter except that it had arrived in an intergovernmental mail distribution addressed to the masfiln. It could have originated in any governmental department on Vezpro, or even on the satellites or the colony worlds. They had conducted a discreet inquiry, but it turned up no one who remembered the communication, even though its material was distinctive.
"Then it could have been slipped into the mail by anyone," Darzek observed. "What's the population of Vezpro?"
"About five billion," the masfiln said. "Why do you ask?"
"I was considering the problem of identifying the sender. If he's one of five billion, it'll be rather complex."
Actually, he was considering the problem of evacuating a world.
Removing five billion people to safety might prove impossible.
"Should we investigate the Nifron system?" the masfiln asked. "Since you have brought this letter to the attention of Supreme, I am sure that the appropriate governmental department already is doing so. You should file an official request for a report of its findings. Otherwise, there would seem to be nothing you can do until you receive the next communication. You'll have a better understanding of the problem when you know what the writer's 'orders' consist of. Have you kept the contents of this communication confidential?"
"Only the two of us and our representative on Primores know about it."
"Good. My counsel, then, is that you give the letter to me and take no further action. It might be disastrous to make the matter public or even discuss it in official circles."
"Ah!" The masfiln seemed vastly relieved. "Then we are to leave the problem in your hands?"
"For the present. At least until you receive another communication.
I ask only that you instruct your chief proctor to give me his full cooperation whenever I request it - and ask no questions."
Naz Forlan's soft voice filled the room again. "If you will pardon a suggestion, sire - the chief proctor is not the most brilliant member of your delegates. Since a scientific question is involved, I suggest that it should be my department that cooperates with Gul Darr."
"An excellent suggestion," Darzek agreed. He had intended to ask for such cooperation in any event, and Miss Schlupe's native detective force would certainly be more effective than any personnel the chief proctor could supply. "Since it might arouse curiosity if an unknown trader were to call on the masfiln frequently, perhaps I should communicate with you through your Mas of Science and Technology." He turned to Forlan. "Can you receive a trader without causing comment?"
"Of course," Forlan answered. "I have a section that makes direct purchases of raw materials that are in short supply."
"Then I'll call on you when I need to and discuss raw materials." He escorted the two officials to the office transmitter.
Miss Schlupe already had settled herself in her rocking chair when Darzek returned to their living quarters, but she was not rocking. She sat tilted back with her eyes closed.
Darzek dropped into his own favorite chair and kicked his shoes off again. It seemed impossible, anywhere except on Earth, to acquire shoes that were comfortable for human feet. "How would you describe our visitors?" he asked.
"Puzzled," Miss Schlupe said without opening her eyes. "And puzzling."
"Strange the way individuals who have no experience of crime react when they encounter it. These didn't hare off to Nifron D to find out if the threat had any substance, as we uncivilized types from Earth might have done. They asked their representative on Primores to ask Supreme what they should do."
"Our crimeless society has suddenly produced a criminal," Miss Schlupe said. "That's much more interesting than their reaction to it."
"Or a practical joker?"
"Baloney. It's a transparent case of blackmail. Pay up, or your world goes poof."
"Or maybe it's a crank let
ter from someone who found out about a peculiar natural event in the Nifron system and is trying to cash in on it."
Miss Schlupe began rocking vigorously. "When the new year approaches, and Vezpro has the option of paying off or calling what might be a bluff - could we afford to take a chance that it's a crank letter?"
"That may depend on what the blackmail consists of. With five billion lives at stake, I'd say - no."
5
Darzek sat at his desk with the masfiln's mysterious letter before him, but he was moodily studying his desk calendar. It was a product of Vezpro's ingenious technology: circular in shape, with the galactic standard calendar arranged about its outer circumference.
On an inner circle the Vezpronian year appeared, and around the center - in constant motion - were all of the planets of Vezpro's solar system along with their satellites. The day's date was illuminated: a softly glowing, green glyph. The central sun glowed brightly enough to serve as a night light, and the entire structure was almost a meter tall.
Darzek found it irritating. One glance gave him such a complexity of information that it made him feel ignorant.
Darzek had extracted as many details as he could from the physical evidence of the letter. These were unfortunately few. The unique looking substance it was written on turned out to be a common type of luxury stationery, manufactured on Vezpro but probably available allover the galaxy. The machine on which it was written had been mass-produced - also on Vezproin the billions and exported just as widely. Darzek had read the message at least five hundred times, pondering phraseology and choice of words, and he knew while he did so that the sender would have been intelligent enough to disguise any distinctive habits of expression that would identify him or his world of origin.
That left only two angles to work on: The science of turning a world into a sun, which already had the experts stumped; and criminal psychology, which had no experts - or even amateurs - in a society that had never produced a criminal.
[Jan Darzek 05] - The Whirligig of Time Page 4