Trade Secret (eARC) (40 page)

Arrival on Halatan

He woke in time to get himself some 'mite from
Keravath'
s kitchen and retired to his cabin to spend another round wearing his reader. It was just as well that he wanted to study as the ship was approaching docking, but the Scout was surely out of sorts with the whole of Jethri's troublesome birthright and seemed disinclined to require his attendance at the second seat, or even at table for meals.

This section started with Arin's face leading a lecture, and then into the main thread of things. The information that the filament of the spiral arm the Seventeen Worlds called home was facing incoming gas and dust clouds wasn't exactly news, but the results of
his
tests and scan was.

Jethri felt a thrill of realization about reported dates of Arin's computations, and the depth and range of them. It might be his book could tell him for sure, but even quick arithmetic showed him how likely it was that the fractins-and-frames building he and Arin had played at for hours at a time were likely the times when Arin had done the computations on the gas flow and compression so important to his
Envidaria
.

And those results? Arin calmly elucidated the problems: the shift in gravity potential would simply move some Jump points out and away from the current expectations, and those changes could be a simple second of two, or light-minutes or even up to light-days. In some other places the Jump points could paradoxically move in, close to the stars, dangerously close--test runs would need to be frequent and accurate. The same system could go through phases of these changes: compression along known dark matter filaments could induce waves and the chance was that some of the underlying filaments might also move, creating the conditions that could eventually sling-shoot gas giants out of borderline stable systems or move rocky planets in.

Here in this section Arin was explaining a technical equation Jethri realized came from the piloting math, and it was images recorded in
Gobelyn's Market
's tiny trade office.

"Watching this curve," he said, "we'd expect minor changes over decades. Yet, if we look at the simple compression function here, and here"--Arin picked up a book as a prop, his book!--"and go to some likely rotational rates that one might deduce from a simple calculation based on numbers easily derived from recalling that the incoming gas is going to be streaming and heating at the same time it is being compressed, we'll see that the density goes way up. It begins to rival stellar mass as it transits. Look at this: ships above a certain size and mass limit will simply not be able to match the numbers and will spend a lot of energy for a Jump that cannot be made to work. Beneath that limit, yes, trade can go forth."

Here Arin opened his book, referred to a page, and put a number from that page on his display board, holding the book to point at the numbers in emphasis. He solved the math manually, with a bit of theatrical stuff at the end where he showed that "which lets us derive this number: an infinite amount of energy is needed to make the translation at the mass of a supermodern twenty-pod-plus ship on the Liaden and recent Combine approved major ship design, but a finite and doable translation at the mass of oh, say a common Loop ship or even some of the minor ore carriers.

"I've solved these equations theoretically, of course, because they'll fluctuate." Here he held the book in front of him and waved it again. "This is doable, and a trade system based on what we'll have is necessary unless we wish to see this whole section cut off. Eventually this compression ring will pass. We're talking four to five hundred years of potential complete isolation or we can build systems that will allow our ships and regions to survive and even prosper. Consider the lead time on building major trade vessels: fifteen Standards or more from laying the first spine to launch. Consider the current backlog and commitment levels to that building. Let the Liadens and the Combine folks have their games--they are committed to the size of ships they have for at least seventy Standards and closer to one hundred twenty Standards. There are larger ships in design and procurement, and I must say, let them build!

"My proposal is to let them work and for us to use the routes we'll have with designs we have or will build and we'll connect with them at a few points and still be part of trade while we build our own resources and avoid costly direct competition."

"Thank you for your time.

One last flash of the book, used to underline the math between loop ships and major trade vessels . . . and the
Envidaria
cut back to text.

The text he read several times and, as much as economics impacted trading, he'd not been pleased to slog through those sections, where sums and assumptions went from exa to pico, all based on the idea that someone somewhere knew exactly what moved markets. The gravitic anomalies, the changing shape of allowable orbits, and even the idea that a well-nigh invisible wall of sub-space stress might affect a ship's ability to transport food, such facts he had little problem with.

The other issue, of course, was this courier pilot, one Rand yos'Belin. Jethri'd been amazed to hear that ter'Astin's time at Tradedesk had been even more fruitful than his, but that was settling out in a direction that looked good.

It was kind of a hard thing knowing they could trust the woman, who was the same pilot he'd seen at Infreya chel'Gaiban's side at the Hall of Festivals. He'd guessed from ter'Astin's less convoluted explanations that she'd likely been the pilot who'd rummaged Jethri's clothes on
Keravath
, and this made him think ter'Astin had known her longer than he knew.

If ter'Astin and she were old bedmates reacquainted on the station, it might mean that--

What it meant was that the Scout was a professional and needed to be trusted on this.

The question of trust, though, brought him around to Freza, and what he might do about her. They both had schedules, and they both had things they were sworn to . . . but . . . yeah, he trusted her, and knew she understood he had things to do, too. Here he sighed, wondering if he'd end up with callouses on his ears if he saw her often enough. She'd made it plain that a shivaree would be fine with her, but they'd left Port Chavvy in a hurry in order to make the meeting here and finish with the whole birthright and
Envidaria
thing--and besides, they'd not had much in the way of a decent location with the
Balrog
being as small as it was and
Keravath
worse.

"Just let me know, Jeth. Give the word and we'll get things going the very next place we can."

She'd kissed him then, they having a more or less in the shadows location, and added, "Remember, if we get started we'll probably want more than a day to do things right. I'm willing to see how things play out, if you are."

The plan was that
Keravath
would land ter'Astin and him on Hatalan, which was about as neutral a place as they could find. They'd meet Pilot yos'Belin, with the Scout for his side, and they'd switch the hostage book--with his fractin a promised throwin--for the
Envidaria
. It being fresh from the source, he'd swear it the latest edition.

Then, since
Elthoria's
schedules looked to be set that way,
Keravath
would take him directly to her next port, Ynsolt'i. In some ways he dreaded returning there--but the ship needn't set down so he wouldn't have to visit the landing area where he'd seen a man suicide for fear of the treachery of Liadens.

A low tone sounded. Well there, he had much to think on, and a landing to observe. He stuffed the
Envidaria
in its holster, and headed to the flight deck. In a little over an hour, they'd be on the ground.

*

Busy was good, yes, and the Scout had given him a few minutes at the controls, insisting he ought to learn something about the ship's handling as they fell out of orbit and toward atmosphere.

"Is this not all automatic?"

The Scout chuckled. "No fear, Pilot Jethri, it shall not be your hands on the controls as we touch down. Nor, it happens, will it be mine, though I will sit backup. Hatalan has now a more than adequate integrated air traffic system--if we wish we may watch mere airliners or distant blimps float by our glorious starship . . ."

The Scout laughed again, as if the approaching landing was allowing concern to slip away.

"I forget," the Scout said, "that unlike most of my contemporaries, and most of yours in trade, you are not a planet dweller nor have been willingly. Many young people see starships as a freedom they cannot have on their homeworlds, and often ascribe amazing power and riches to pilots and anyone who leaves the surface of planets regularly.

"This place is full of sand and grit, Sir Guest Pilot. The children often become farm overseers or cattle chasers. Some of them cut wood for a living. Since the place as a whole seeks some ancient magical condition--perhaps it is 'Resumption' in Terran?--they sometimes fail of attending properly to illness. We have Scouts on-world to study and assist certain of the sub-sects here, for some declare that all Terrans are lapsed from propriety and they suffer Liadens for us not being declared Terran. The place is a danger to travelers: many of the halflings and older with sense seek to escape and thus fall prey to, well, the glitter of firegems or offers of short flights. Yet they are so strict with those striving for elsewhere that a single unpermissioned liaison of joy may ruin a life.

"The governors of this place
are
Terran but whole territories of it are subject to only the vaguest of regulation, Terrans having no master code and the subgroups scrupulously denying any other group's rules. Land rights, ownership, those things count. Otherwise? Otherwise even Scouts are careful.

"And so, you and I, we will stick to the port here, where there are patrols and common sense. I've told several Scout encampments of our coming, but I doubt they'll visit us, since they are perforce in the hinterlands. And the hinterlands are wild places indeed!

"So what we shall do, Jethri, is that your board will go to training mode now, and mine to live-connect. You may follow our path in screen three, and the planet's view of it on screen four. You may follow as closely as you like, but I must be the contact so that I can in fact be backup!"

*

The landing was, in fact, faultless, but the final ten minutes of descent having taken place in silence, Jethri had encountered a surfeit of thought. His book would come back. His fractin would come back as well, for what worth it might have, and when the book was back, the Scout's mission would be all but done.

Arin's work--his
father'
s work --that really wasn't being stolen from him in this trade, though still it felt a bit wrong to give up the reader. Really though it was a trade. It wasn't
really
being stolen if Tradedesk was working. By now the ship
Nubella
would be in place, the long slow transition from orbiting Vincza to orbiting the star begun.

He'd be a trader again, all Balanced. Uncle would do whatever it was that he did, Khat would be doing what she was doing, Freza would do what she was doing, Samay would continue her training and eventually become head of her line. . .and so his thoughts went that way again.

Thus, while carefully observing the landing all the way to gearlock on hotpad, when the switch to pad power went blue he told ter'Astin, "If I may use the commlinks, Scout, I believe now would be a good time for me to send a note--to a lady of my acquaintance. You understand."

The Scout bowed.

"Indeed, Second, I am hardly surprised. One must, after all, keep memory fresh if one wishes to send flowers again soon."

*

Jethri accounted it one of his life's great accomplishments that he no longer wished to hide his face from the sky when on-world, but in this place he wished he might hide it from the wind. As well as he knew the world was round and circled by three seas. From this viewpoint it was flatter than a chopping deck and wider than a star system, with a glaring yellow-white primary making him wonder why they were without shields. The wind rushed his ears while it tickled and tugged at his hair, throwing against him stinging bits of dust and grit. The part of his face unprotected felt hot from radiation.

Hands protecting eyes, they'd gone to a taxi, and hands over eyes emerged from it, staring into a row of bright white buildings stretching into the distance. The driver, paid handsomely ahead, agreed to wait, the vehicle quivering in the gusts that seemed never to stop. The buildings showed two flat sides and one slanted into the wind--the grit flew up and over them, building drifts of sand behind.

"Land is cheap here, the saying is, and so the locals rarely build up. The world is barely tectonic, and staying low is important. Out there--you can see a wall of wind-gatherers stealing power!"

Jethri hurried, no urge to study the things that engaged the Scout's attention. Nonetheless the Scout pointed, "Over there government buildings, and up that street, the single brown building is a workhouse for dissenters."

The white building in front of them showed a flat side, and gently came down fluffy sand fallen out of the airstream. There were words in Terran, and some few in Liaden on the building. "Field Relief," it said in Terran, and in Liaden the closest was "Alien Assistance Lounge."

Into that flat side they went, Jethri's "Woof!" of relief at entering bounced from walls of the white rock. They walked across a sandgrid, through cool air, onto a dark and shiny stone floor, the scout pointing--"There, first door."

Jethri'd guessed that, for a faintly familiar presence was behind that door, he was sure.

Within the first door was a small anteroom with a miniature sandgrid and beyond that was a carpeted hallway leading to a marked conference room.

Ter'Astin smiled at him and knocked on the door, entering before the answering "Come" was fully enunciated.

How was one to treat a person who held your property for ransom? Surely not a familiar greeting even if one's name was known, surely not . . .