Derelict For Trade Read online

  Waiting in the center of the ovoid was the Zhem who’d challenged Dane. He was not alone. Stationed round half the perimeter of the field was a great number of adult Shver— probably most of his clan, Rip realized.

  Was this a bad sign? It was too late to do anything about it now.

  Dane walked out into the center, still holding his bag. Rip felt a corresponding burst of adrenaline, as though he were the one walking out there. No time to pursue that empathic reaction—obviously his vivid imagination.

  The Shver had something long and shiny lying at his feet; he bent and hefted a sword at least six feet long, with a wickedly curving blade. Rip didn’t know whether to be relieved that he had not chosen a force blade—an energy weapon would at least afford a cleaner death than being hacked apart one limb at a time by that sword.

  The Shver stood ready, speaking no words.

  Dane carefully worked his bag loose, then tossed it behind him. What he held looked just as sinister as it had sounded in the maglev pod. Rip blinked at the great bladder, covered with cloth of a faded geometric pattern, transfixed by a number of black tubes protruding from it. His preconceived notion shattered: the haggis was some sort of sonic weapon, like Frank’s feedle pipe.

  For a moment no one moved. Rip saw the sheen of sweat lining Dane’s brow.

  The Shver then gripped the sword and swung it in a swift, humming circle to one side, then the other. At the same time Dane drew in a deep, rasping breath, and his face purpled as he put his mouth to one of the tubes and blew.

  Everyone watched, Shver and Terran alike, as the great bladder filled, and then, without warning, Dane punched it viciously! The haggis screamed, droning in weird multiplicity as Dane’s fingers danced spasmodically on one of the tubes, a groaning, wailing, urgent cacophony that tore at Rip’s ears and filled his heart with fierceness.

  Clang-g-g! The sword hit the stones barely two centimeters from the side of Dane’s left boot. He stood his ground, squeezing the bag with his arm as he drew another breath. Rip could see sweat rolling off his purpling brow.

  Clang-g-g! The sword’s edge caused red sparks to fly scarcely a centimeter from Dane’s right boot.

  The sword raised high above the Shver’s head, the vast, powerful muscles bunched under the gray hide—

  And Dane took a third breath, blew, and this time the rudiments of a tune tweedled out of the droning voice of the haggis.

  And suddenly the Shver flung down the sword, opened his mouth, and out came a mighty "Hoom, hoom, hoom."

  He was laughing.

  Around the perimeter the Shver hoomed along, like some kind of musical thunderstorm.

  The sound ceased as Dane tucked the bladder under one arm, fighting for breath, grinning slightly.

  Ali was right, Rip thought. At least—so far. And won't he crow, came the rueful after-voice, but then Rip thought: if we get out of this alive, then as far as I’m concerned he can crow about it until Sol goes nova.

  The Terrans did not make the mistake of moving. They waited until the Shver stopped laughing.

  In the center of the field, the challenger said, this time in Trade, "Performed you brave, Terran. Quarrel have I none with you." And he made the gesture of respect. "It is dead."

  Dane returned it with his free hand, and though he was still gasping for breath, he growled out a short sentence in Shver tongue.

  This time the Shver answered in his own language, slowing when Dane half-raised a hand and said a word.

  They held a short exchange, then Dane made a speech, not long in words, but it took him some time, between the cost to his lungs and his fighting for the correct words.

  But when he was done, it produced a profound effect. This time the Shver in the watching circle made different sounds, growls so low Rip felt his feet thrum and his back teeth vibrate. Danger thrilled along his nerves, and he fought the impulse to clutch at his sleeprod. He forced himself to stand still, not even wiping his sweaty palms; he’d take his cue from Captain Jellico, who had not moved an inch the entire time.

  The Shver spoke a little longer to Dane, and then something surprising happened: a tough-looking older Shver stumped forward, her great legs like animated tree trunks. She spoke just a couple of words to Dane in Shver, but then she too made the gesture of respect, turned, and left the field through a hidden access in the shrubbery.

  Her clan followed, all except the original guard, who motioned Dane and his crewmates back to the ground car.

  Rip was certain within half a minute that they were taking a different route back, but just as alarm was again squeezing his heart, they drew up directly next to the maglev pod.

  Relief flooded through Rip’s aching body as he lowered himself gratefully onto the bench in the pod. The others sank down around him, and the otherwise empty pod started to move slowly.

  Dane leaned back and closed his eyes, sighing.

  "Here’s Steen’s carryall," Frank Mura said, holding it out. He poked cautiously at the deflated bladder clasped under Dane’s arm, its tubes dangling, and said, "What is that thing, anyway? Some kind of ultrasonic torture device?"

  "It’s a musical instrument," Van Ryke said, his voice husky with laughter.

  Rip stared. "That weird noise was—music ?"

  Everyone laughed.

  "It’s called a bagpipe," Dane said, trying to catch his breath. "When I started blowing it up on the pod—Frank told me it’s airproofed with some sort of oil and molasses and the bladder walls tend to stick together—well,

  I knew I was in trouble. Playing it was a nightmare." He laughed softly and somewhat painfully. "Well, it’s bound to sound better when played by someone who knows how. Steen just had time to show me how to cause the notes to play, and Ali and I roughed out the first section of melody of a

  Shver triumphal air. Then it was time to go. But it worked."

  Van Ryke shook his head. "It wasn’t the song—if they even recognized it. What they liked was the way you stood your ground and played that silly thing while that fool of a Shver minced the stones around your feet."

  Rip said, "What I want to know is, what did they say?"

  Dane sighed again. "Just a minute. I don’t feel like I’ll ever breathe right again. whew!"

  "Rest," Jellico said, clapping him once on the shoulder. "You can talk when we get to micrograv. You did well back there," he added, which praise—effusive for Captain Jellico— made Dane’s bony, long face turn a fierce red.

  Rip tried not to laugh, and instead looked out the window as the pod raced up into lighter grav. The pressure eased slowly from his body, leaving a pins-and-needles sensation in his joints. He massaged his shoulders, noting the others easing necks and elbows and knees.

  Finally Dane said, "Much better. And Ali was right, all the way down the starlane. The citizen told me I’d acquitted myself with such honor he couldn’t believe I would dishonor the blood or block the path."

  "What?" Van Ryke exclaimed, his white brows rising.

  "That’s what they were told."

  "This is of the Blood, the Path, and the Conquest to Come," the cargo master said softly. "The formal statement of Shver honor."

  Dane nodded. "So I guessed. He said it was a. I guess the easiest translation is ’a family obligation’; but it was an insult to them to have to challenge riffraff like us. Kind of like cleaning up the trash," he said with irony. "But he had to, or disgrace his family. And guess who forced them into it."

  Rip and Van Ryke said together, "Clan Golm."

  No one laughed.

  Dane gave a grim nod. "That’s it. They disliked the duty enough to

  believe that we might actually have a case, and so they chose the neutral approach all the way."

  Van Ryke shook his head. "And except for Ali, we might have misread it to a lethal degree."

  Dane said soberly, "True. All I could think of was fighting—and losing. I never could have lifted any weapon in that gee. Just holding this and blowing into it nearly killed me." He
touched the bagpipe. "Anyway, by doing what we did, we made it clear we had no gripe with them, though I have to say, I was just as glad to be half fainting, when that sword came smashing down like that." He grimaced. "Anyway, now they say they owe us, and that’s when I told them all about Flindyk and the derelicts. The talk of hijacking got right to ’em."

  Rip, remembering that deep growling, said, "It sure did."

  "He said that Golm has been gaining influence through the office of the Administrator of Trade, more and more to the detriment of the other trading Shver clans."

  "Interesting," Van Ryke said, steepling his fingers together. "Very interesting."

  "And so?" Jellico prompted.

  "And so we are to call on his clan if we want any help."

  Jellico nodded slowly.

  The others started talking over details of the duel, and how they’d reacted, and how the others would react when they heard about it. When the pod reached microgee, Rip felt as if his heart had lightened along with his body. Everyone was in a celebrative spirit as they made their way back to the Solar Queen. Only Captain Jellico was quiet, his gray eyes distant as if he was deep in thought.

  When they reached the others, the whole story had to come out again, but this time it was properly celebrated in the galley with delicacies that Frank broke out, having saved them for just such an occasion.

  Rip couldn’t help noticing that the captain still stayed silent, except for

  sudden private talks first with Tang Ya, then Jan Van Ryke. He was going to shrug it off as not his worry when he noticed Tau watching the captain as well.

  Time slipped along, and several crew members decided to call it a day and rest. It had been a long day, Rip realized; though the eternal lighting was the same, his body—strained the more by two trips to Shver territory—clamored for respite.

  Something was wrong, though, he could sense it. But no one said anything, and at last he got up and swung himself through the hatch to go below and sleep. Dane had already gone, and Ali was just in front of him.

  He’d gotten about four steps when he heard the crack of a hand against a bulkhead, and the captain’s voice. "Craig, if they’re not back in an hour, I’m going up to the Spin Axis to bring them out."

  The Spin Axis. Rael Cofort and Jasper.

  How long had it been?

  Rip looked around for a chrono, and felt his head swim. He knew then he’d been awake too many hours.

  Dropping his feet through the hatchway of the down-ladder, he pushed gently with his hands and prepared to catch himself at the bottom when there was a blue flicker at the edge of his vision.

  With two fingers he snagged the edge of the ladder and halted his drop. Lifting his head, he watched Tooe zoom through the outer lock, rebound off the deckplates, somersault without losing an iota of velocity, and rocket straight up to the control deck.

  "Captain!" she shrilled in her fluty voice. "Captain! We come!"

  Rip’s eyes were still at the level of the floor; he felt a presence behind him, looked, saw Dane emerging from his cabin. "Tooe’s back," he said.

  In silence the two apprentices ascended as Jasper Weeks and Rael Cofort sailed through the hatchway, clutching their gear, both looking tired and tense.

  The captain dropped down from above, landing on the deckplates before the two, one hand keeping him motionless. "Why are you late?"

  "The exigencies of events," Dr. Cofort said. Her hair was tousled, and there was dust smudging her face and clothing, but her eyes were alert, bearing a hint of challenge. "Do you not trust us?"

  "It is the exigencies I don’t trust," Jellico returned.

  "Sa-sa," Ali whispered, coming up behind Dane and Rip. "Another duel, eh, me hearties?"

  "Shut up," Rip muttered.

  "Freedom," the doctor said, unsmiling, "to a degree."

  Jasper gave her one odd look, and the captain another, and silently Jasper pushed his bag of gear toward the hatchway where the other three apprentices were watching. They made space for him to drop below, but he just sent his gear out into the air and turned to watch as well.

  The silence between the man and woman stretched until Craig Tau appeared from behind the captain, and murmured a few words to Cofort. She bent her head to listen, then her expression changed, and she said, "I’m sorry. I have a lot to report."

  "So do I," the captain said.

  "Then do it over a meal," Frank Mura spoke from the galley hatchway. "You both look like you need it."

  They disappeared into the galley, and the apprentices turned to hand themselves down to the decks below.

  22

  "Wake up.”

  Ali gave them a wicked grin before he dropped to the engineering deck. "Brace up, friends. The final confrontation is nigh."

  No one asked him which confrontation he meant.

  The voice seemed to come at Dane from the sky. He tried to look up, realized he was at the bottom of a well. A deep well, and he was buried from the neck down.

  "Thorson!"

  The voice was insistent, jerking him out of the darkness into which he’d drifted.

  "You can’t sleep—none of us can. Captain said this is it. Dane, this is it

  ff

  Dane made a tremendous effort—and opened his eyes.

  He was not in a well, but in his cabin, and the big, booming voice dwindled down to Ali Kamil, for once not drawling, or grinning, or lounging.

  "I’m awake," he croaked. Even in microgee, it took an effort to move.

  "Here. Frank sent these down with me," Ali said, holding out a drink bulb.

  Dane took it, flicked the heat tab, and smelled real coffee.

  "We have just a few left," Ali said, some of his old humor coming back. "But it seemed the time to issue them."

  "How did you manage to stay awake and chipper?" Dane asked, trying—unsuccessfully—not to sound cross.

  Ali lifted one shoulder. "Napped a little while you were dueling. Slept my way through most of the action so far, truth to tell. Next time, it’s my turn."

  "You could have had mine for the asking." Dane sighed and swung himself to his door. Ali drifted after. "Jasper? Rip?"

  "You’re the last of us," Ali said. "Tau’s been waking the officers who were on alter-shift."

  Dane nodded, realizing then that the captain had called a meeting of the crew. A few moments later he sailed into the mess cabin.

  "... go right up there, haul the jerk out from behind his desk, and pound the truth out of him," Karl Kosti was saying.

  Dane wedged himself in among the apprentices, and realized that all of them were there, for the first time since their arrival at Exchange. So the Starvenger was empty. Somehow this more than recent events or Ali’s words made Dane realize that the end had really come.

  "I’d like that," Captain Jellico said, his face grim. "I’d like that very much. But we have to be realistic. He has tremendous power, and I doubt we’d get far past his door."

  "Then we waylay him outside his office," Johan Stotz said.

  Jellico negated this with a quick wave of his hand. "Then we’ve broken the Concord, and we’re liable for arrest, and don’t think he wouldn’t be ready for that. No." He paused and looked around. "What we’re going to have is a peaceful confrontation. But we are going to pick the time, and the place. The time," he said with a faint, unpleasant smile, "is now."

  He waited for the sounds of approbation to die down, then said, "And the place is. over dinner."

  It was so unexpected, so incongruous, that half the crew thought he was joking, and laughed.

  Jellico’s faint smile was still there, but he did not laugh. He merely waited until the mess was silent again, so silent that Dane could hear the quiet hiss of the air circulators.

  Craig Tau then said quietly, "I remember Flindyk generally eats at the Movable Feast after his duty at Trade, if it’s high enough—he masses quite a bit. But I also remember seeing him in splendid isolation, which means no one is permitted to bother
him."

  "And I remember what happens to people who try to cause trouble in that place," Johan Stotz said. His long face crinkled in a grimace. "I wouldn’t want to test any of those rumors—apparently the Gabbys are all picked for their imaginations as well as their abilities in the cookery line."

  A murmur of agreement rose from the others.

  "Why there, Captain?" Rip asked. "Do you think he’ll talk to you?"

  "I think we have to take the risk," Jellico said. "It’s the only place where we’re on roughly equal terms. But we do have to play by their rules. You have to remember that the Concord, imperfect as it is, is all there is between three very different races. It’s also very fragile. The contradictions like the outcasts at the Spin Axis, and the Shver duels, and so forth can be looked at as fairly regularized methods of dealing with the cracks in the Concord’s structure. What we have to do is avoid breaking the Concord as we address what might turn out to be the biggest crack."

  Tau glanced at the chrono. "Time, Chief."

  Jellico gave a decisive nod. "Flindyk just got the trade authorities to call for us to pay our shot on some pretext of going over some limit in our debt. This is his last attempt at trying to get at us through legal means. The time limit for paying up has just passed, and a squad of Monitors is most likely on its way to arrest me now. I won’t be here. I’ll be on my way up to face Flindyk off in what I am counting on being neutral territory: the Movable Feast. It’s in low-gee right now, and Trade has just closed up their offices, so Flindyk will be there."

  Again there was silence.

  "I know you’d all like to be there, but I’m only taking four with me. The rest are to stay, one team on the controls, and the other on defense. If the Monitors pull anything, your first job is to save the Queen."

  Again, no one spoke.

  "Cofort and Van Ryke, you come with me. Tooe, you as well, in case we need translation. Thorson, you’re the one who started us off in the investigation, so it’s right that you should be in at the kill. Let’s go."