“This is a rough business,” Zach told him, “and I have to be careful—one wrong move and I’d end up in a League penal colony. If you want anything done on the level of ID tampering, you have to expect it will cost you.”
“My cargo, my ship, maybe the lives of my crew? I don’t think so,” Terry declared, keeping his voice even.
“Your ship? You thought I was going to steal it? Hell, no, man, I don’t go in for larceny. All I do is protect myself.” The man’s amicable smile seemed genuine. “I’ve been under suspicion for years, but the police can’t arrest me because sending in agents doesn’t pay off. Anybody I have doubts about gets the same treatment you did, and if it’s an undercover cop, he wakes up far from here with no memory of what happened to him; I’ve got drugs to ensure that.”
“Why,” Terry ventured, “have you decided I’m not a cop?”
“They use implanted trackers they can set off, or sometimes they arrange with buddies to move in if they’re missing too long. If a team shows up, this is just a clothing store—they’ll never find the hole through a legal search. The box is unlined rock so a metal detector won’t show it; they’d have to demolish the building.”
The hole undoubtedly contained more than one box, Terry realized; there would be another for stashing platinum, and the ansible terminal was probably down there, too. “You keep all suspicious-looking new customers buried for hours on end, just on the chance that they might be police agents?” he asked incredulously. “I wouldn’t think you’d get much business that way.”
“Well, I don’t want business from people I can’t trust to keep their cool. The average client doesn’t stay in there very long; most of them start yelling to be let out, which a cop wouldn’t do.”
“How do you know if they yell? I’d have sworn the box was soundproof.”
“There’s a mike in the ventilator linked to my earphone. I don’t aim to give anybody a hard time when there’s nothing to gain by it; I haul them out, put their money back in their pockets, and dump them in the nearest tavern after a shot of the drug that erases memory. It’s harmless—just a sedative that by then they’re glad to get.”
“I imagine they are,” Terry said dryly. “Are you going to drug me now, by force?”
“God, no—you’re something else. When I’m lucky enough to find a man or woman who doesn’t panic at being confined down there and doesn’t freak out with rage when brought up, that’s somebody I know is reliable. This is a bigger operation than just forging IDs, and I’m always on the lookout for more partners.”
Astonished, Terry declared, “You’re mistaken if you think I’m going to become a partner in this sort of thing. I’m a trader and an explorer with no desire to get involved in crime.”
“Oh? You’re not above buying doctored IDs for fugitives. You implied that you’re a hacker. And you mentioned cargo, which I’m willing to bet you don’t plan to sell legally.”
Terry was silent. Zach did have a point.
“I don’t mean an active partner in my own enterprise,” Zach went on. “It’s a network, see? There’s no boss, people just make referrals. Some need ID work, or a registration changed, or a particular kind of merchandise; others want to sell services or cargo. I’m picky; I don’t handle stolen goods or deal with those who do, and I don’t shelter killers. But I don’t honor bureaucrats’ laws, either. Free traders have my respect.”
Was it possible, Terry wondered, that fate had again aided him by means of a seeming disaster? He had not known how to find a buyer for smuggled cargo; he hadn’t even known how to start.
“It’s true I’ve got merchandise to sell,” he said slowly.
“Of course you do. That ship of yours is no mere yacht.”
Terry froze. “What do you know about my ship?”
“I checked you out, soon as I saw you were the kind of man I might do business with. I have a friend in traffic control. And by the way, he said something about a broken transponder—you need that handled?”
“I’ve already taken care of it, except for the owner ID I asked you for.”
“Oh, yes—you said you’d had experience with data tweaking, I assume you meant unofficial experience. You must be good, because you’ve got the cleanest ID I’ve ever run across. According to your file you’ve never attracted any attention, so my guess is that it was fixed somewhere along the way. If you’ll be onworld for awhile I might have some work for you.”
What would Zach think, Terry wondered, if he knew that he’d spent the past twelve years inserting subversive literature into a public knowledgebase, not to mention the prior hacking experience he’d acquired during his high school years on Earth? “Thanks, but I have my own agenda,” he said, “and right now I’ve got to get back to the port before my crew gives up hope of ever seeing me again. I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I wasn’t the only one your tactics were hurting.”
“Your crew’s fine—I sent Henson to see the very competent young woman who’s guarding your shuttle and give her a message from you saying you’d been unavoidably delayed. I wouldn’t have wanted her to report you as a missing person, after all.”
Thank God, Terry thought with relief. She’d have talked to Jon and Alison on the comm, so they weren’t suffering as much as he’d feared.
Zach went on, “He tried to get her to open up about your business, but she’s a cool one; he couldn’t get anything out of her. We were only asking out of curiosity—their ID files showed that your crew came from Ciencia, so I’m confused. Ciencia’s a closed world. I’ve been told there’s no chance of getting closer than high orbit.”
“That’s true,” Terry said. “No one’s allowed to come or go, which is why I needed it wiped from my people’s records.”
Zach stared at him, his respect increasing. “You managed to pick up passengers.”
“Not exactly,” said Terry, trying to decide how much to tell this man, who was going to have to know that he carried Ciencian goods to sell. “My copilot Darrow brought up some cargo in a local mining ship and chose not to go back. The two women came with him, and if they’re missed, it will be assumed that his ship was lost, which is how I want it to stay.”
Puzzled, Zach persisted, “You mean you’d been flying alone till then? How did you get sole possession of a starship?”
“That’s not for you to know. It’s legally mine, however, in case you’re worried that I might have stolen it.”
“I’m not. I know straight talk when I hear it,” Zach assured him. “Now about your cargo, what have you got to offer?”
“Pharmaceuticals,” Terry said. “Top Ciencian quality.”
“What kind?”
“Not the kind you’re probably looking for.”
“Psychoactives? I employ them when I need to, as I told you, but I’m not a user and I don’t encourage street dealing. I don’t care what’s legal or illegal, a person has a right to free choice about what drugs to consume—but too much that’s sold on the street isn’t genuine; customers get jolts they’re not expecting, and some die. I only refer traders to legitimate clinics.”
“That’s good, because I’ve got mostly antivirals.”
Zach burst out, “Antivirals? Ciencian antivirals, the ones that don’t have to be tailored?”
“Yes. You know anyone in the market for them?”
“There’s an outbreak of something new on Toliman,” Zach said, “and the legal supply has run out. I know half a dozen traders who’d pay twice the usual wholesale price, but I like you, Steward, and what’s more, I don’t hold with gouging a clinic with an epidemic on its hands. So I advise you to skip the middlemen. You’ve got a ship; go and sell direct.”
“Go to Toliman?” Yes, he could do that easily, Terry knew; it was a small colony on another planet in Alpha Centauri’s system; the name was taken from an old one sometimes used on Earth for the star Alpha Centauri itself. “How would I make contacts there?”
“I’ll give you a name. She’ll be war
y, but you tell her you’ve been in Zach’s box and she’ll be willing to deal. Anywhere in the galaxy, that’s all you have to say—if a guy knows what you’re talking about, you can trust him like a brother.”
“It’s that big a network?” Terry exclaimed, overwhelmed.
“Traders move around a lot; usually they’re just one jump ahead of the law, as I’m sure you know.”
“I’m new to the smuggling business,” Terry admitted, “though I’ve done other things I could be nailed for.”
“Well, you’re part of a family now. My screening method works; you can call hazing if you like, but I don’t know any faster way of finding out who’s got enough self-control to be trustworthy.”
Impressed, Terry memorized the name and instructions he was given. He hadn’t thought it would be so simple.
“One other thing before you go,” Zach said slowly. “There’s a rumor starting up about Ciencia. I met with another free trader a couple of days ago, captain of El Dorado, and he told me an odd story. Seems he picked up a transmission from orbit, some guy speaking directly to the people of the planet about how they should start a revolution—even implying that they had started it. If that’s true I’m glad, because I don’t like any government telling citizens what they can and can’t do, censoring what they read and not letting them ship out if they want to. Would your crew happen to know anything about it?”
“If they do, they’re not likely to say so. Not everyone on other worlds would be as understanding as you are.” God, Terry thought, he hoped he was judging Zach rightly—but his initial impression, which had stuck even while he’d thought the man would kill him, was now stronger than ever. And he’d have to trust his own psi perceptions if he was going to spread ideas among the colonials he interacted with.
“I have heard the rumor,” he declared. “It’s said there’s a ship named Estel that no one ever sees, and the word Estel means “hope,” and the Captain of Estel has special powers that people everywhere will someday possess. If there’s a revolution on Ciencia, that’s probably what sparked it.”
“I’ll pass the word around,” Zach said. “Nobody’s thinking much about the future anymore, but if there’s anything in it worth hoping for, that’s something my network would be happy to hear.”
~ 15 ~
When Terry got back to the shuttle and had assured Gwen, and the others via comm, that he was okay, he transferred some credits to her and told her to purchase a new transponder and any essential tools as quickly as possible. The port had a hardware outlet, fortunately, and he’d bought enough clothes for her from Zach. He didn’t want to waste any time. If there was an outbreak of disease on Toliman, people might be dying.
While Gwen was gone he grabbed some protein bars from the emergency stores in the shuttle, having had nothing to eat since the day before, and then got busy with his tablet. He would have to hack the colony’s knowledgebase from where he was; it would take too long to go back into the city, though it might be less risky from there.
They would come back to Centauri after delivering the antivirals to Toliman; still he wanted to make the rumor about Estel public immediately—encouraging though it was that Zach planned to spread it to the underworld, that wouldn’t reach ordinary citizens. He was excited by its having gotten started already; El Dorado must be a faster ship than Estel, or else it had emerged from hyperspace closer to Centauri.
He used the same wording as he’d used on Ciencia, which had proved effective: “There is a ship, and its name is Estel, which means hope. Its captain came from the stars and his heart is there, but at times his ship descends to bring the knowledge that’s rightfully ours. And someday this knowledge will no longer be hidden.” But now he added, “It is knowledge of the powers of the human mind, which are greater than is generally guessed. With these powers we can defeat sickness and pain and misunderstanding, and all who gain them will interact with each other in harmony—the childhood of humankind will end and a new phase of history will begin.”
This was, of course, looking rather far ahead, Terry thought ruefully. He was thinking of the era when the Elders would appear, which wasn’t going to happen in his lifetime. But people needed to look ahead. That was what they had stopped doing, thereby letting civilization go downhill. They needed to believe there was something worth reaching for, as once they had reached for the stars.
And at least a few people could gain what the Maclairnans had, what the Maclairnan mentors were teaching in secret on Earth. There could be a beginning.
Earth . . . he hadn’t found out what was happening there, though Centauri was the place most likely to have people who would know. He should have asked Zach, Terry realized. He hadn’t been in a mood to stick around after his release from Zach’s box, but probably the man had contacts on all the settled planets in the galaxy. In fact he’d as much as said so. Did they include anyone aware of the conspiracy on Earth that was trying to suppress awareness of psi? Would it have been safe to ask him? Zach would certainly oppose that effort; even if he knew nothing about psi powers, he would instinctively feel that suppression of them wasn’t compatible with his dislike of government authority.
It didn’t take Terry long to crack the knowledgebase and plant the easter eggs leading to his text, and to some relevant speculative books, in several places that the people most apt to be receptive would be likely to see. Since the existence of such a comment wasn’t illegal in itself here, it would probably find its way into some blogs, and certainly there would be comments in public forums—in fact he inserted a few under anonymous screen names to get the ball rolling. Initially there might be a few readers curious enough to wonder about his text’s origin. Once it spread, however, nobody would bother to trace it, and in any case, by that time he would be gone.
He hadn’t yet told the crew about his experience, feeling it would be too hard to explain from a distance. Once aboard Estel, he set course for Toliman before sitting down with them to say why. “It was a real break,” he concluded. “We’ll sell the whole cargo for sure. But when people are sick and suffering, I don’t want to profit from that. I think we should ask just what we paid for the stuff. Do you agree, Jon?”
“You’ll never be a big success in the smuggling business,” said Jon, smiling. “But yes, I agree. The only thing is, this guy Zach is expecting a cut, isn’t he? Presumably he’ll collect from the courier he referred you to, and if it’s true that he knew dealers who’d pay twice wholesale, he’s likely to feel shorted.”
Terry frowned. Zach had trusted him to contact the go-between rather than seek out a clinic himself and disappear with the entire proceeds of the deal. It would be wrong to cheat him, even if it weren’t that his friendship might prove valuable in the future. “He doesn’t know how much cargo we have,” he said thoughtfully. “Let’s hold some back and charge enough for the rest to give him a fair cut—and then donate the rest directly to people who need it. As long as we don’t pocket profits he’s entitled to share, I don’t think he’ll mind.”
It took less than a day to reach Toliman. Terry wished Jon could be the one to negotiate the price for the pharmaceuticals, but it wasn’t possible since he himself had to make the contact and one of them had to stay with the ship. It didn’t really matter this time when they weren’t aiming for maximum profit. They loaded the cargo into the shuttle and he headed for the surface, taking Alison with him.
It was dusk when they landed, the strange brilliant dusk dominated by the second sun Alpha-B, which gave too much light for the sky to turn black. “It’s like this only half the year,” he told Alison. “During the other half Alpha-A and Alpha-B are on the same side of the sky so Alpha-B appears only in the daytime when it’s too dim by comparison to be visible.”
“It doesn’t look like a sun,” she said, “at least not like what I saw through the filters on Bonanza.”
“Well, it’s a small one. Tomorrow morning when Alpha-A rises you’ll see real sunlight.” What a thrill that would be,
he thought, to someone who had never before walked on a world that wasn’t enshrouded. This one was not an attractive example, being made of featureless rock; but he knew the absence of clouds would seem awesome to her.
Toliman’s spaceport was no bigger than Ciencia’s and served a similar purpose; only mining ships were based here, and what little other traffic it got consisted of supply ships. Ostensibly, Coralie was carrying plastic resin pellets from Centauri; that was what Terry had told the port authorities. He knew they would not inspect the shuttle’s cargo. Though in theory imports were taxed, he’d been told that it was done at the point of sale and that everyone knew that smuggling went on. Toliman, which was merely a base for orbiting metal refineries, needed goods more than it needed tax revenue.
Legally imported pharmaceuticals had to be ordered from suppliers on Centauri, who in turn ordered all but the most common ones from Earth; this meant several transactions involving both tax and dealers’ profit on top of the manufacturer’s price. If medical drugs were needed, nobody would question the source of cheaper ones except for assurance that they were not counterfeit. That, Terry knew, was what the contact to whom he’d been referred would be wary of. Had Zach not been aware that Coralie’s crew came from Ciencia, he reflected, he would have been taking a big chance by making such a referral. People could die from counterfeit medication, and a dealer who’d been stung might well take revenge on the person responsible.
He called the number he’d been given. “I’m just in from Centauri,” he told the woman who answered, “and I’ve got something a friend of yours said would be of value to you. Can we meet?”
“I’m not interested in imports right now. Nobody’s buying.” Her tone wasn’t friendly.
“So I understand. I know there’s illness here; that’s why he thought you’d be in the market for antivirals.”
Angrily the woman declared, “If you think I’m going to fall for a pitch like that, forget it. There are no antivirals on Centauri; we’ve exhausted every possible source. There’s nothing lower than a scammer who’ll take advantage of suffering, and you can tell my alleged friend not to send me any more.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 54