At last, though, she dismissed Laktic, who thanked Dane—and on being thanked for his help, thanked him for his thanks—and after exchanging mutual wishes for each other’s long and pleasurable lives, Laktic departed.
"Now, Gentle Trader," Koytatik said, making the clicks of Universal Goodwill. "Will you permit me the honor of requesting the data the augmentor has indicated you hold, so that we may persevere in your efforts to complete your business?"
"Here is the spool," Dane said, tapping his belt to play the code for Happy Compliance. "And the printouts, in case you need those."
Koytatik extended a grasping member to take the spool, which she dropped into a slot cleverly hidden among the mosaic patterns on the table. A thin screen extruded at an angle; Dane, from his height, could just see over the top, and watched Kanddoyd script flash up on the screen in ordered ranks of data.
There was a pause, and for a moment Thorson felt a flash of something—almost pain—through his temples. But then it was gone, and he realized Koytatik was making sounds that he needed to decode. He recognized Universal Goodwill again, among other more rapid patterns. "The Solar Queen," Koytatik said. "And the ship you found is the Starvenger, registered through the Terran Free Traders."
"That’s correct," Dane said.
Again he felt that strange tightness in his head, and was reminded suddenly of Frank Mura’s feedle pipe and its ten ultrasonic notes. He surreptitiously activated the jeweled ultrasonic recorder that Jasper had made—noting at the same time that the facilitator was rapidly making sounds that he recognized. All were positive ones, even the low droning of Important Business Proceeds Best with Care and Caution.
"We must check your data against the claims registry of your own Traders, as well as our registry," Koytatik said. "If, of course, the owners of the Starvenger or the heirs of the owners have made an insurance claim against the ship—thus indicating they in fact duly abandoned her—then she is yours. If not, we shall proceed to the next step in our process, which is to post the claim."
Dane nodded. "We understand all that. How long does it take to get transmissions to and from Terran Trade? A couple of days?"
Koytatik made a series of sounds so rapid that Dane was not able to follow them, and he felt for the third time that odd sense of pressure in his head, and he glanced down at his ultrasonic device, and saw that it was flashing blue. But she said, "About that long, yes, indeed, Gentle Trader. If you will honor us with your presence again in two Standard Days, which is three Cycles in Exchange time measure, I shall avail myself of the pleasure of furthering your business once again."
Dane nodded, mentally going over the questions he was to ask about the next step, so the captain could plan for them, but to his surprise the prime facilitator made a bow, clacking away with complimentary sounds and chirps, and then withdrew behind a screen with all the rapidity of her race. Dane felt an impulse to follow, except the screen was closed—and with a shrug he decided that, taken all in all, things had gone well enough. He could always get to the questions next visit, and report with the answers straight back to the captain.
He got to his feet, and made his way back through the maze of flowered pathways, pausing only to exchange complimentary farewells with all the functionaries whom he encountered on the way.
7
Rip Shannon was glad to get back to the Queen, and said so as soon as he and Jasper Weeks stepped off the shuttle, magged their boots, and joined the other apprentices in the mess cabin.
"Things quiet on the Starvenger?” Ali asked, lounging back.
Rip glanced around at the cramped mess cabin, and lowered himself into one of the battered old chairs. The Queen was both restfully familiar and a little bit strange; it had been a long time since he’d really noticed just how small her cabins were. Small, but comfortable. Everything fit—like his favorite pair of boots. And yet. and yet.
"Quiet as vacuum," Rip said, forcing a grin. He wouldn’t talk about how he’d had to fight against envisioning himself piloting that ship. He looked across at Jasper Weeks, who was staring down at his tube of fresh jakek, and felt with a sudden, visceral certainty that Weeks’s moods of abstraction after he’d returned from checking the engine rooms during their two-day stretch probably owed much to the same kind of daydreams.
He saw a kind of sober assessment in Dane Thorson’s blue eyes, and knew, with the same kind of inner conviction, that both of the other two apprentices felt the same. But he also knew that no one was going to say anything out loud.
Relieved, he stretched out his arms. "So, what’d I miss? Isn’t it today you go back to registry, Thorson?"
Dane nodded. "Been three days Exchange time, so I’m going as soon as we’re done here." He waved a big hand at his half-eaten breakfast.
"Other than that," Ali said in his mild voice, "we’ve all been taking in the sights—and the sounds. Lots of sounds."
"Lots and lots," Thorson added with a twisted grin.
"Any clues on our mystery?" Rip asked.
All three shook their heads.
"Ah, well, I guess it was too much to hope for that one of you characters would happen to walk into some dim bar and sit down in the next booth to some mysterious spacers, just in time to hear them discussing the strange happenings to their old friends, the crew of the Starvenger."
"Only happens on the vids," Thorson growled.
Ali tapped his long fingers idly on the arm of his chair as he leaned back against the bulkhead. "Maybe it’s my wicked nature, but I wouldn’t believe it if I did hear it."
Jasper nodded. "Think we were being fed a load of horseradish."
"For someone else’s arcane and nefarious purposes," Ali drawled. "Exactly."
"Speaking of horseradish," Rip said, "how’s the master progressing with swapping that cargo for something we can use?"
Dane sighed. "Looks good. He’s found an eager Trader who likes Terrans. Name of Tapadakk. Some kind of complicated three-way deal is shaping up nicely, despite all the flowery apologies and excuses for their goods not being fine enough for the exalted Terrans."
"Van says dealing with these Kanddoyds is a fine lesson in patience,"
Ali put in. "As if he really needed the reminder."
"How are we holding out?" Rip said.
"It’s tight, but Captain says if we can get everything wrapped in a few days, we won’t tip into the red," Ali reported. "One option we have is to
move the Queen up to the heavy-grav section. It’s cheaper."
"I’d like it better," Jasper admitted. "I want to drink out of a mug, and not worry when I stand up too fast from a chair, if I forget to mag my boots, that I’ll bounce my brains out on the ceiling."
Dane said, "Except we’re a lot closer to the action here. May’s well not lose what time we have in traveling the mag-levs if we don’t have to." He rose—slowly, Rip noted. "Speaking of which, it’s time to find out whether we own two ships or not."
Rip said suddenly, "Mind company? Captain says I’m off-duty for another six hours."
Tnorson gave a nod. "Glad to have you along."
As they started out of the mess, Frank Mura appeared from the galley, frowning slightly. "Anyone here have a mysterious appetite for carrots?"
The men all shook their heads, and Ali laughed. "If we’ve got rabbits aboard, the one you should ask is Sinbad."
Mura sighed. "I don’t mind if someone got a sudden craving, but I just want to be told if they’re going into my hydrogarden. I like to know what I have at hand and what I need to grow." As he spoke, he hefted something in his hand.