Resurgence (23 page)

The temptation was enormous. Get rid of Sinara, with all the potential problems she promised, and at the same time cement the deal with Claudius. Atvar H'sial would agree. The others on the
Have-It-All
would not care. You could explain to Julian Graves, if you ever had another meeting with the Ethical Councilor, by saying—

Louis paused. By saying what? That you had sold Sinara?

He shook his head, and Claudius nodded understandingly. "I see. The old, old story. Mating with her, are you?"

"I am not!"

"But hoping to, eh?" The leer on the wide mouth broadened. "In that case, I'll bide my time. Once you've had her a few times, you'll likely be glad to be rid of her. Then we can come to an arrangement."

"It's a possibility. But let's leave that for the future. One deal at a time. What would you require to come with us, and serve as our pilot?"

"Using whose ship? Yours, or mine?"

"Mine. But does it matter?"

"Could matter a great deal. You don't get ships from the Orion Arm in these parts. Different basic principles, different technology. If we went in my ship, then you could leave yours here—"

"Forget it. It took years to get the
Have-It-All
the way I like. I'll not have anybody else's paws on it."

"First the female, now the ship. Bit touchy, aren't you? But if it's to be your vessel I'm piloting, that ups my price—and I'll need to have a good look-see before we talk terms. Some of the clapped-out bits of junk that people bring you, and ask you to fly! You'd not believe it."

"The
Have-It-All
is in perfect shape."

"I'll need to see that for myself. Where's your ship?"

"Synchronous equatorial orbit. We're beaconed, easy to find."

"Then I'll be up to visit. Tomorrow." Claudius nodded, and bobbed on his springy tail toward the exit. "I'm going to catch me a few rays." He sniffed. "Good luck with the female. Whatever good luck might mean in this case, you'd know that better than I would."

As Claudius was leaving he passed Sinara on the way in. She had heard his final remark, and was frowning.

She snapped at Nenda, "Good luck with the female? What did that disgusting object mean by that remark?"

"I have no idea."

But Louis thought of lost opportunities, and wondered how far it was to Carnival.

Louis decided within fifteen minutes of Claudius's arrival aboard the
Have-It-All
that the Polypheme must be a uniquely competent pilot; otherwise, no one in the universe would employ an individual so rude, insulting, and cantankerous.

Claudius had arrived in his own vessel, a stuttering wreck with failing engines and a body so dilapidated and rusted that Nenda would have hesitated to take it in for salvage had he found the hulk in open space.

The fittings of the
Have-It-All
were magnificent, gathered with a true collector's eye that Louis Nenda did not realize he possessed. He just knew what he liked, and he had assembled those through the years from all over the Orion Arm. Claudius had no nose to turn up, but his sneering contempt for all that he saw showed on his other features.

"Vegetables? How can anything that calls itself civilized try to make a ship out of bits of
vegetation
?" Claudius ran the fingers of his five hands over a polished rail of rare Styx blackwood, "borrowed" from a rich vessel of the Fourth Alliance. Nenda, at the Polypheme's request, was giving Claudius a stem-to-stern inspection of the
Have-It-All
—omitting, of course, the concealed weapons ports and their well-hidden controls.

Claudius went on, "Do you lack metal, so that you must resort to such primitive materials?"

"We have metal." Nenda had a sharp and lethal sample tucked away in his boot.

"Then apparently you don't know what to do with it."

Nenda knew exactly what he would
like
to do with it. He put that thought to one side. Claudius was pretending to an equal disdain for the occupants of the ship, but his eye movements betrayed a different level of interest.

"They belong to you, do they?" Claudius's main eye was staring at Kallik, J'merlia, and Atvar H'sial. "You know, these would also be of interest at Carnival. Especially the big and ugliest one. There's nothing like them there. Might they be available?"

"Certainly—but not until our other business is concluded."

Nenda had been providing pheromonal translation for Atvar H'sial's benefit. Now a message came wafting across to him containing overtones of both amusement and warning.

"Louis, I detect in your emanations an element of treachery. I approve—provided that it is directed at the correct individual." 
 

"At, you know me better than that. I wouldn't dream of selling you out to old blubberguts here." 
 

"Very wise. It leaves unanswered the question, to whom would you dream of selling me out?" 
 

But Louis was moving on, beyond the range at which his augment could pick up and read the Cecropian's signals. Atvar H'sial had much more sensitive apparatus. When doors were open she could track and read Louis at fifty meters.

They passed into the next chamber, which normally served as the main cargo hold but which had been modified for special accommodation.

"Nothing here of value," Claudius was saying. "Why, I doubt if I could get more than a pittance for everything—"

He paused. He had caught sight of Archimedes, hanging by three great suckered tentacles from the ceiling. The Zardalu, head down, uttered a dreadful growl. Claudius was not to know that it was Archimedes's sincere attempt at a greeting in human universal.

"What is that?" Claudius was backing away.

"It's all right." Nenda walked forward, passing within a foot of the wide midnight-blue head with its fearsome maw. "This is only Archimedes. He's a Zardalu."

"Never heard of them before." The Polypheme did not move. "From the Orion Arm, I suppose. Is he dangerous?"

"Not at all. He might be, once he's full-grown."

Claudius edged his way past, keeping as close to the cargo bay wall and as far from Archimedes's dangling body as possible. "What's he do on board this ship?"

"Anythin' I tell him to. He's a sort of personal servant an' bodyguard. Anybody tries to cheat me, Archimedes takes care of it." Nenda passed through into another room. "Now this, I'm sure you'll want to see. This is the aft control cabin, where I expect you'll be working. It's an exact copy of the one forrard."

Claudius carefully closed the door to the cargo bay before he bobbed over to Nenda's side. "Let's get down to business. But I'll tell you now, if you want me to ship with a thumping freak like the one back there, the deal has to be something special."

"Maybe. Though from what I hear from Kallik—she's been monitoring signals coming up from Pleasureworld—times are hard for Chism navigators. Paid missions are way down. If you're not interested, plenty of others probably would be."

"Now then, Captain, did I say as I wasn't interested?" The Polypheme curled his form into the other control cabin chair. "You can't expect me to commit to something when I don't even know where you want to go. Some places are more attractive than others."

"We want to go to Marglot."

"That's it, then." Claudius was out of the chair in a single wriggling motion. "I'll say thank you, and good day. No one in his right mind goes to Marglot."

"Why not?"

"Because it sits right at the edge of the dead zone, that's why. Find someone else."

He was halfway to the door when Nenda said, "Fifty percent."

Claudius held his position, but the upper half of the flexible body turned through a hundred and eighty degrees, so that the great slaty eye faced Louis. "Fifty percent what?"

"Fifty percent of whatever our takings are on Marglot. That's twice what you normally ask, and five times what you normally get."

"And less than I'd need to go
there
." But Claudius remained where he was, coiled a little closer to the floor. "Haven't you heard about Marglot?"

"I've heard lots. What in particular?"

"Why, the fact that four ships from planets within thirty lightyears of here headed for Marglot, and not one came back."

"How were their navigators?"

"Lousy. Nothing near as good as I am."

"Well, then." Nenda swung his chair to face the control console. "I'll give you the right of final decision. If we make a Bose transition and you don't like the look of what you see, you take us out of there. I like to make money, but I'm not such a fool as to put my skin and my ship in danger to do it. What do you say? Half of anything we get, and if you're edgy and want to jump away, we do it with no questions asked."

The big eye lost its focus, and its smaller scanning companion slowed in its travel. Claudius stood as still and silent as a twisted spiral of green marble.

At last he nodded. "We put all this in writing, and post copies at Central Records on Pleasureworld. I've got an idea, you see. There's more than one Bose network approach to Marglot. The other ships, for a bet, took the shortest and easiest route. We'll wriggle around a bit for a back way in. How's your power supply for multiple Bose transitions?"

"Ample. Why?"

"It doesn't take longer in travel time, but my alternate route will burn up a whole lot more energy. Let me head over to my own ship and bring my stuff. Then we'll sign the deal. Oh, and there's one other thing."

"I can't give you terms any better than the ones I offered."

"It's not that. It's your friend out there." Claudius jerked five thumbs in unison toward the cargo bay door. "I know you say he's just a growing lad, but I can't do my best navigating when he's close by. My first suggestion is that you dump him in the freak show at Carnival. They'd take him in a hot minute. But if you won't go for that, at the very least you keep your Zardalu away from me—and the farther away, the better."

While the
Have-It-All
's communications center transmitted the written agreement to Central Records on Pleasureworld and awaited confirmation of its receipt and filing, Louis Nenda strolled back to join Atvar H'sial.

"Well?" The Cecropian's silent question drifted across to him.

"Nothing to it. All tied up and confirmed. Claudius will be our pilot to Marglot."

"As simple as that? No special agreements were necessary?"

"Not really. Except I had to offer him fifty percent of whatever we get."

"Fifty! That is quite outrageous. It is twice what each of us will receive."

"It is. But here's a question, At. What exactly do you expect to receive on Marglot? Not
hope
, now.
Expect
."

"I follow your logic." The Cecropian folded its proboscis into the pleated region on its chin. As the tube inflated, words in near-human speech emerged. "Anundra 'rsnt fe'wns'st."

"A hundred percent if he wants it? My thoughts exactly. Claudius may collect more than he bargains for. But you're gettin' better, At. I mean, better at speaking human. The sooner we're to Marglot and away again, the sooner you'll be able to have more lessons from Glenna Omar."

"Indeed." The Cecropian returned to her normal pheromonal speech. "Glenna was the best."

"I have to agree. The best." Nenda scratched thoughtfully at his crotch. "Not that I've had any recent chance for comparisons."

"You are considering language lessons?"

"Not really."

"Then what?"

"Nothing." Nenda was hurrying out of the chamber even before he spoke. He closed the door quickly. No point in getting Atvar H'sial excited over involuntary pheromonal signals.

To Hans Rebka, sustained free-fall implied one of only two things. Either you were in orbit around some body in open space, where you might remain with no feeling of a gravity field for an indefinite period; or you were dropping, pulled down steadily toward some center of force. In that case you most definitely could not fall for an indefinite period. The drop would end suddenly, unpleasantly, and probably fatally. And since you had started out on the surface of Iceworld, the chance that you were now orbiting some planet when all around you was nothing but total and stygian darkness seemed too slight to take seriously.

Hans saw nothing and felt no forces on his body. The only tangible thing in his universe was the suited figure of Ben Blesh. He clutched it tighter to him and was reassured by a protesting groan.

"Where are we. What's happening? Oh God, I think my arm and ribs are broken."

"Hang on, Ben. I'll get your suit's painkillers into you as soon as I can." Hans turned on the headlight of his own suit, but still he saw nothing. Either the headlight was not working, or he was in some place where light declined to travel. "You'll have to wait a bit longer until I can see what I'm doing."

"Lara. I thought I saw—or I dreamed I saw—Lara—"

"It was no dream. I'm sorry about Lara, but we can't do anything for her. Concentrate on yourself. How do you feel?"

"We must be in space. I'm in free-fall."

"Yes."
But I don't think this particular free-fall is likely to last much longer.
"I know you're hurting, but try to think objectively. Decide the parts of you that you think we will need to attend to first."

And where was Darya? Dropping invisible at their side, or spun away to some other dimension entirely? Had she already landed somewhere, crushed and shapeless, while he dropped forever?

That worry ended in mid-thought with a bone-jarring thump. His boots had hit a solid surface. Ben's body was wrenched from his arms, and Hans heard a cry of agony as brightness grew around him.

He stood upright within a closed room. The nearest wall, without doors or windows, rose to a ceiling at least fifteen meters above. Hans turned back his head, and saw that a uniform glow came from the ceiling. The light had not been present when he first hit the floor. It was still slowly brightening. He and Ben must have dropped right through the ceiling, but there was no sign of it of their passage.