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Centauris instead."
"what for?" asked Kiachif airily, shaking hands with Captain Feyder.
"We've been there already, with all the best the colony worlds have to offer.
Tell "em, never compel "em, and you sell "em, that's my motto." The friendly
rivalry between the independent merchant Rog Feyder and All
Kiachif had gone on for years. Feyder sat down, and Kiachif signalled to the
harman to bring bottles for them both.
"I've got a shipment of unrefined sugar for Doona. Special order.
Just unloading." Feyder let Kiachif fill his glass, waited till All had filled
his own, and then raised it courteously to his old rival.
"Your health."
"Yours! Hear unrefined sugar used to make damned fine spirituous potables.4
"Did it? Well, we make sure the customers get what they order, don't we?
Though sometimes you wonder why they pay the freight charges."
"Oh?" Kiachif had long since learned the art of subtle prompting.
"Sugar's the most ordinary thing I have on board.
The damnedest things are getting shipped these days."
"That they are,' Kiachif agreed. "Last season, I carried a copper sculpture
fifteen meters long to one of the outer agriworlds from Doona.
A commissioned work by the governor to commemorate ten years of the colony,
engraved with the name of every colonist and his accomplishments. It was a
pain up the afterburners to handle, but orders are orders! I hate to see what
he'll ask for when twenty-five rolls around, like Doona's is." "Aye, I wanted
to come back for the big celebration, but I should be worlds away by then,'
Feyder said. "I'm just here on turnabout, starting me route over from the
topside. No, when I say strange, I mean the epitome of strange, not ordinary
strange.
Listen to this one. Got a meteorite puncture on my way in from the outer
worlds. After we sealed it up, I found a container cracked open in that bay,
with the meteorite smack in the middle like a ball through a glass window.
Splintered the whole damned thing into pieces.
D'you know what had been inside?"
"Not an idea."
"A beacon. An orbital drone beacon,' said Feyder, slapping his leg. "No
assignment code. No idea where it came from. We checked its memory, and it
was hollering Mayday like a pack of banshees. Did you ever hear such a thing
in your life?"
"By all that's white, bright, and right,- All said, holding on to his
excitement, "that surely is a strange thing to report. Never heard its like
in all my years in space. And it didn't have no ID number. you say?" Feyder
was not at all taken in by Kiachifs idle curiosity and gave him a long sly
look. "Now I can't rightly remember."
"We could both take a look,' Kiachif said.
"So you can see what else I'm hauling and crossship me? Try another one,
Kiachif. "Surely there must be a little favor! could do for you, Rog ol'
boy!" Feyder regarded him speculatively. "Well, now, there's the matter of
the Eighth Sector."
"Oh?" and the single sound dove and swooped up again while Kiachifs eyes went
round as ball bearings.
"Hell, All, you gotta leave some routes open for the independents.
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"That's true enough,' Kiachif said, scratching the stubble on his chin.
"I don't want to appear greedy, or restrict free trade . . .
You don't happen to have it still on board, do you?" He winked at
Feyder.
"Happen I do. But you don't get a look at it. That amadan portmaster's gone
all rules and regs on honest traders and he sealed my hatch when I
told him that I was only here to refuel and get a drink or two. I can't
unseal till I reach Earth, my next port 0' call."
"Earth, huh? Is that where your funny gizmo's going?" Feyder drained his
glass, which Kiachif promptly refilled. "Yup, going to Earth.
Spacedep's the address on the manifest.
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"That's the queerest sort of cargo to carry, I do agree. A beacon with no
point of origin, screaming a Mayday, if you get what I mean."
"Do you mean to let us have some routes in Eighth, then?" Kiachif affected
hurt innocence. "Of course, I do.
Soon's you can give me the beacon's ID. Give you my word,' and he held up his
right, bargain-making hand in promise.
Just then some of Feyder's gangers entered the bar and Kiachif had a chance to
slip away to find Feyder's supercargo, who was an old friend, and called in a
favor he had with that man. "when you get to Earth, just make certain you
order that box opened in front of the inspectors because it was "damaged in
transit."
"why?" the super wanted to know.
"I'm not going to tell you why, what, or wherefore,' Kiachif insisted, fending
off the man's questions. "That would be suborning the witness, if you know
what I mean. I just need an official inquiry into the contents of that
container! And let me know who picks it up.
That's important, too." He left the Launch Center, looking for Ken.
Only Pat was at the farm, just getting up from the computer and looking so
sick to heart. Kiachif thought he'd better let her talk her worry out of her
system. And a drink'd help that process.
"They should be back fairly soon, All,' she said, still distracted and
worried.
"Now, Patricia, why don't you get me a little drink and tell me all about it?"
"All, you haven't changed in twenty-four years, she said, but she looked at
him, not around him, and he chuckled.
"why should I?"
"I know what you mean, she capped his jovial question with his own words.
"Perhaps a drink's not a bad idea what with everything that's happened today."
"You look wore out, Patricia.
You sit. I'll get the bottle. Know where you keep it."
"That doesn't surprise me,' she murmured, low enough so he wouldn't hear her
out in the kitchen.
But his low chuckle suggested that he had. He was back in no time with the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
Centauris instead."
"what for?" asked Kiachif airily, shaking hands with Captain Feyder.
"We've been there already, with all the best the colony worlds have to offer.
Tell "em, never compel "em, and you sell "em, that's my motto." The friendly
rivalry between the independent merchant Rog Feyder and All
Kiachif had gone on for years. Feyder sat down, and Kiachif signalled to the
harman to bring bottles for them both.
"I've got a shipment of unrefined sugar for Doona. Special order.
Just unloading." Feyder let Kiachif fill his glass, waited till All had filled
his own, and then raised it courteously to his old rival.
"Your health."
"Yours! Hear unrefined sugar used to make damned fine spirituous potables.4
"Did it? Well, we make sure the customers get what they order, don't we?
Though sometimes you wonder why they pay the freight charges."
"Oh?" Kiachif had long since learned the art of subtle prompting.
"Sugar's the most ordinary thing I have on board.
The damnedest things are getting shipped these days."
"That they are,' Kiachif agreed. "Last season, I carried a copper sculpture
fifteen meters long to one of the outer agriworlds from Doona.
A commissioned work by the governor to commemorate ten years of the colony,
engraved with the name of every colonist and his accomplishments. It was a
pain up the afterburners to handle, but orders are orders! I hate to see what
he'll ask for when twenty-five rolls around, like Doona's is." "Aye, I wanted
to come back for the big celebration, but I should be worlds away by then,'
Feyder said. "I'm just here on turnabout, starting me route over from the
topside. No, when I say strange, I mean the epitome of strange, not ordinary
strange.
Listen to this one. Got a meteorite puncture on my way in from the outer
worlds. After we sealed it up, I found a container cracked open in that bay,
with the meteorite smack in the middle like a ball through a glass window.
Splintered the whole damned thing into pieces.
D'you know what had been inside?"
"Not an idea."
"A beacon. An orbital drone beacon,' said Feyder, slapping his leg. "No
assignment code. No idea where it came from. We checked its memory, and it
was hollering Mayday like a pack of banshees. Did you ever hear such a thing
in your life?"
"By all that's white, bright, and right,- All said, holding on to his
excitement, "that surely is a strange thing to report. Never heard its like
in all my years in space. And it didn't have no ID number. you say?" Feyder
was not at all taken in by Kiachifs idle curiosity and gave him a long sly
look. "Now I can't rightly remember."
"We could both take a look,' Kiachif said.
"So you can see what else I'm hauling and crossship me? Try another one,
Kiachif. "Surely there must be a little favor! could do for you, Rog ol'
boy!" Feyder regarded him speculatively. "Well, now, there's the matter of
the Eighth Sector."
"Oh?" and the single sound dove and swooped up again while Kiachifs eyes went
round as ball bearings.
"Hell, All, you gotta leave some routes open for the independents.
Page 125
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"That's true enough,' Kiachif said, scratching the stubble on his chin.
"I don't want to appear greedy, or restrict free trade . . .
You don't happen to have it still on board, do you?" He winked at
Feyder.
"Happen I do. But you don't get a look at it. That amadan portmaster's gone
all rules and regs on honest traders and he sealed my hatch when I
told him that I was only here to refuel and get a drink or two. I can't
unseal till I reach Earth, my next port 0' call."
"Earth, huh? Is that where your funny gizmo's going?" Feyder drained his
glass, which Kiachif promptly refilled. "Yup, going to Earth.
Spacedep's the address on the manifest.
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"That's the queerest sort of cargo to carry, I do agree. A beacon with no
point of origin, screaming a Mayday, if you get what I mean."
"Do you mean to let us have some routes in Eighth, then?" Kiachif affected
hurt innocence. "Of course, I do.
Soon's you can give me the beacon's ID. Give you my word,' and he held up his
right, bargain-making hand in promise.
Just then some of Feyder's gangers entered the bar and Kiachif had a chance to
slip away to find Feyder's supercargo, who was an old friend, and called in a
favor he had with that man. "when you get to Earth, just make certain you
order that box opened in front of the inspectors because it was "damaged in
transit."
"why?" the super wanted to know.
"I'm not going to tell you why, what, or wherefore,' Kiachif insisted, fending
off the man's questions. "That would be suborning the witness, if you know
what I mean. I just need an official inquiry into the contents of that
container! And let me know who picks it up.
That's important, too." He left the Launch Center, looking for Ken.
Only Pat was at the farm, just getting up from the computer and looking so
sick to heart. Kiachif thought he'd better let her talk her worry out of her
system. And a drink'd help that process.
"They should be back fairly soon, All,' she said, still distracted and
worried.
"Now, Patricia, why don't you get me a little drink and tell me all about it?"
"All, you haven't changed in twenty-four years, she said, but she looked at
him, not around him, and he chuckled.
"why should I?"
"I know what you mean, she capped his jovial question with his own words.
"Perhaps a drink's not a bad idea what with everything that's happened today."
"You look wore out, Patricia.
You sit. I'll get the bottle. Know where you keep it."
"That doesn't surprise me,' she murmured, low enough so he wouldn't hear her
out in the kitchen.
But his low chuckle suggested that he had. He was back in no time with the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]