The Privateer (25 page)

Selton bowed to Dee. “My apologies, mistress. In this backwater, one rarely encounters a lady of such . . . breeding. Also, I was given to understand that Faith was quite a . . . uh . . . conservative society.”

“It is,” Dee replied haughtily. “Dreadfully boring. I haven’t actually been there in several years. My father, the Supreme Archbishop, agreed with me that I am better suited to a more
civilized
environment.” Her smile was cold.

“Of course, my lady, of course,” Selton fawned, totally convinced. He turned to Zant. “And precisely how many stones did your lady wish to convert?” He looked somewhat disappointed as he moved back around the desk. Obviously, this rich bitch just needed spending money, and he’d waste his time buying a dozen or so stones.

Zant slid the receipt and the crystal from Shorty’s across the desk. Selton picked up the receipt. He glanced at it, started to look away, and then jerked his eyes back to it as its contents registered. “Two
thousand
carats?” he asked in surprise. His suddenly wide eyes devoured the receipt as he muttered to himself. “Flawless” Zant heard, and “white’. Selton snatched the crystal and placed it into a scanner. He spent several minutes examining the detailed list of stones. Finally, he sat back, with a stunned look on his face.

“My lady, my congratulations. I have never before been offered such a magnificent collection. May I ask how you came by it?”

Dee shrugged carelessly. “In his position, my father has quite an interest in assuring that I do not return to Faith for some time. Actually, our agreement says I may return for his funeral. In the meantime, he will provide me with the means to support my lifestyle. He has decided that diamonds are the most compact and negotiable way to provide that support.”

A last bit of tension slipped from Selton’s shoulders. He could easily understand the most powerful churchman on Faith ridding himself of a spoiled, rebellious playgirl of a child. Actually, he was slightly surprised that her father hadn’t simply arranged an ‘accident’. But then, maybe the man really cared for this spoiled brat, though Selton couldn’t see why. Moreover, diamonds really
were
probably the most compact and universally convertible form of wealth. At any rate, that old drunk Tenkin had really come through, and the deal really
was
legitimate. That would add several hundred thousand credits to his eventual profit.

He turned to Zant. “I can give the lady one thousand Alliance credits per carat,” he said as though he were conveying a favor.

Zant simply looked at him for a long moment. Then he stood and sighed. “My lady, I’m sorry. Rin told me we would be dealing with a legitimate gem dealer. I’m sure we can find a
reputable
gem factor on Freehold.” He started to help Dee from her chair.

Selton looked wounded. “I
am
a reputable gem factor. I . . . “

Zant waved dismissively. “The amount you offer is an insult. Retail on Angeles for flawless stones of such color is 2000 per carat, wholesale is 1750. Now, we do not expect Angeles prices here, but we certainly did not expect to be robbed. We would accept 1750.”

Selton looked scandalized. “Impossible! As you noted, that is the wholesale value on one planet. Out of respect for the lady I could perhaps go to 1250.”

“Ridiculous!” Zant retorted in apparent anger. “The lady could not possibly accept less than, say, 1500?”

Selton frowned. “Done. 1500 per carat for two thousand carats.” He consulted his wrist comp. “That will be over three
million
Alliance credits. A sizable amount indeed.”

As Hern Jarnett had predicted, Selton and two burly, armed bodyguards accompanied them to Shorty’s. Selton carefully examined the stones themselves before signing an authorization for Jernett to disburse three million, fifty-four thousand Alliance credits to “The lady Delilah Raum of Faith or her representative.” Cradling the bag of stones in his arms as though they were a baby, he and his bodyguards hurried out without a further word to either Zant or Dee.

More than three million Alliance credits in cash turned out to be quite bulky. Leaving the cash in Shorty's office with Dee, Zant, and Cale went to the shopping district of Freehold, where they purchased two identical suitcases. They also purchased a small roll of plas packaging and padding. Returning to Shorty’s, Cale called for a bodyguard escort while Zant packed one of the suitcases full of bills. The other he filled with packing and padding until it weighed virtually the same as the money case. When the bodyguards appeared, Cale carried the money case while Zant carried the decoy. One of the hired bodyguards led the procession. He was followed by Dee walking alone as befitted ‘lady Delilah’, hand on blaster. She, in turn, was followed by Cale and Zant side by side, and the other hired bodyguard bringing up the rear. They garnered a lot of attention, but the well-armed procession apparently didn’t tempt any criminals.

At
Cheetah
’s ramp, Zant waited with the bodyguards while Cale escorted Dee and the money aboard, and then returned to dismiss the bodyguards and escort Zant up the ramp with the decoy bag. As soon as they were aboard, Tess sealed the entry lock.

They stared at each other for a long moment before simultaneously dissolving in uncontrolled laughter, collapsing into the lounge’s luxurious chairs. Dee’s arm got tangled in her gaudy cape, and she struggled to free it. She unclipped the cape from her shoulders and threw it across the lounge.

“I
hate
that thing,” she said between giggles. “It’s the most uncomfortable, terrible garment since . . . well . . . since
this
horrible thing!” She stood and ripped off the detachable skirt she had been fighting all day. She dropped back into her chair as the laughter continued.

“Now, now,” Cale said in a patronizing tone, “is that any way for Lady Delilah to act?”

Dee put on a threatening expression and took her blaster from her bag. “The next person to call me ‘Lady Delilah’ will regret it!” The threat was somewhat spoiled by the giggles following it.

Finally, though, the hilarity tapered off. “Tess,” Cale asked, “Have you been monitoring station comm traffic?”

“Of course, Captain,” Tess replied in a prim tone. “At first you were a frequent subject of discussion. That tapered off for a while, but now it is beginning to pick up again. The early traffic mostly concerned your remarkable appearance, but now there is quite a bit of discussion about a deal you may have made with Res Selton, and how much you may have made from it.”

Zant nodded. “I expected that. I’d suggest we depart as quickly as possible, before some of the rougher citizens decide to satisfy their curiosity.”

“Yes,” Cale replied. “Tess, get us exit clearance as quickly as possible, and let’s get out of here.”

“Exit clearance has been received, Captain,” came the crisp reply. “Ready to detach on your order.”

Cale hid a smile. He knew very well that Tess had requested departure clearance as soon as they were aboard. However, Zant did not know of Tess’s sentience, and she was an expert at concealing it. “Detach and set course for the jump point for Rama,” he ordered.

Rama was a busy shipping center one short jump from Freehold. There, Zant would catch a tramp for Vishnu.

As they boosted for the jump point, Zant was in an expansive mood. “Three million!” he exulted, “
Three
million!” He turned to Dee. “I’d have taken the 1250, or even the thousand,” he said, “but as the representative of the ‘Lady Delilah’, it would have been out of character not to haggle. So we got an extra
million
!”

Dee was less impressed. “But will that be enough to hire a crew of ten or twelve ship techs for a month, and a ship to transport them? Will you have to deal with shady thugs in big hats in dark alleys?”

Zant sobered. “I guess you haven’t heard about Vishnu. For almost two years, now, they’ve been in a worldwide depression. Nearly all the shipyards have closed or cut back, and unemployment is above 25%. We could hire all the skilled shipyard workers we want for a couple of thousand rupees a month. And of course, that doesn’t consider the exchange rate for Alliance credits. Last I heard, it was over fifty rupees to the credit. And from what I heard, the government is so desperate for hard currency that they'll sell anything; tanks, intrasystem fighters, artillery,
anything
– as long as it's leaving the planet. For weapons, I expect I'll be dealing with politicians in paneled conference rooms. 'Course that don't mean they're not shady thugs! No,” he continued, “the most expensive part of the whole deal may be chartering an Epsilon-class tramp and bribing its Captain to forget about Torlon.”

Cale sighed. "It would be nice to be able to buy a load of intrasystem fighters, but I think you'll probably just need to load up on space mines; all your ship can carry. The more mines we use, the less fights involving people. We won't have the people to spare. Try to get a dozen or so skilled orbital shipyard workers."

Their talk turned more serious. "So that's what a real den of iniquity is like," Dee said pensively. "A bunch of sad and desperate people sitting around drinking."

Zant shrugged. "Well, mostly. They all like to brag about how tough they are, and the fights they've had, and the big scores; but mostly they're just wanderers. They make or steal a 'score', and run straight to a place like Freehold. There they drink, gamble, brawl, and sex it away. When it's gone they sign onto a spacer or beg a lift, and go searching for another score so they can do it all again." He grinned. "It's not so bad. Kinda fun, actually."

Having broken the ice, Dee decided to bring up something that had been bothering her. "All right," she said defiantly, hands on hips. "Now, who wants to tell me why Zant's friend is being allowed to drink himself to death in this day and age, without someone helping him?"

Cale took a deep breath, but Zant cut in before he could speak. "I consider Rin Tenkin an old and good friend. But he, and his drinking, is one of the main reasons I left here twenty years ago and haven't returned. Rin was a pretty big gun on Freehold. Maybe bigger than Selton is now. Then he got a message that his only daughter had died in a flyer accident on Caroway. The girl was Rin's only living relative, and he doted on her. He kept saying he was in business for
her
, and when he retired, how he was going to set her up as a 'proper lady', and give her all these millions of Alliance credits he'd been saving."

Zant sighed. "Rin
did
crawl into a bottle after that. His friends all got together and decided to help. We forced him into a recovery program, and we took turns watching him to make sure he didn't cheat.

"But," Zant continued, "he didn't even try to cheat; he didn't resist at all. He completed the rehab course, and finally the shrinks said he was completely recovered.

"That was when he gathered together all his friends. It was kind of a cross between a party and a wake. Because Rin reminded us that he had completed the rehab, was completely sober. Then he told us that he was making a completely voluntary and rational decision. He had decided that since he couldn't give his money to his daughter, he was going to drink up every credit, unless he died first, and asked his friends to please butt out."

Zant stared at Dee for a long moment, his expression furious. "
That
's why I told you to shut up, Dee. Out here, we believe that everyone has the right to go to hell in his or her own way. Rin made his decision, and much as it hurts to see him destroy himself, he's a free man, and we have no right to interfere with him."

Dee looked distressed. "But he needs
help
!"

She turned to Cale, only to find him shaking his head, his expression stony. "No," he said. "Every planet develops its own code of conduct, and passes laws to make sure that everyone lives the way they want them to live. But this is open space." He shrugged. "Call it anarchy, if you prefer. People out here believe in personal freedom. If that man had decided to blow his brains out at that party, no one would have interfered, though they might have questioned his taste or timing. There are no busybodies out here to push their way into our lives and force us to live their way. This isn't Faith, Dee. In open space, there is almost complete personal freedom. The only real rule is that you cannot interfere with someone
else's
personal freedom. The old saying is that 'my freedom to swing my arm ends at your nose.' And if it doesn't, you have the right and responsibility to balance the books. Since you're going to have to live out here, you'll have to cultivate the same attitude, or find yourself another planet where interfering in peoples' lives is acceptable."

Dee remained silent, but her expression was stormy, and she kept to her cabin for nearly a week.

They only remained on Rama's space station long enough for Zant to take nearly all the cash and catch a ship for Vishnu. Cale reprovisioned
Cheetah
and they filled her with supplies that would be needed on Torlon, since Cale had no idea how much of the old Beta-class liner’s supplies remained. Then they immediately left as well, declaring a jump for Faith, though of course they did not intend to actually go there. Instead, they jumped for Torlon, two jumps away.

So Cale returned to Torlon once again. This time he didn't bother to call Torlon Control, but he did ground
Cheetah
just outside the groundside scrap yard. Then he and Dee, blasters prominent in open holsters, prowled the yard looking for suitable intrasystem ships. Cale nearly bit his tongue when he saw the distinctive shape of an Old Empire pattern
Strengl
fighter. A workhorse of the Old Empire Fleet, the
Strengl
mounted two Alliance-pattern quickfirers and a laser or disruptor (this one mounted a laser). They also had jump engines, which gave them interstellar capabilities. Unfortunately, this one turned out to be the donor for the inertial engine mounted in Ber Nabel's
L'Rak
. Since the airframe looked good, though, Cale made a note of it. They also found two old-style couriers, somewhat smaller than
Cheetah
. Both appeared nearly complete. Most of the rest of the groundside yard had been thoroughly scavenged by looters since Nabel's departure. The office that had occupied the Old Empire corvette hull had been gutted, papers and ram chips scattered everywhere.