So the thing filling the forward screen of Zabb’s flagship was alarming in the extreme. It dwarfed even the grandest Takisian warship as it hung next to the Bonded station and blotted out the stars. The most recognizable feature was the great bubble dome that housed the Aevrй pilots. It was also the only feature of the ship which was not obscured by thousands of years of accretion. Pods and towers, strange box-shaped objects, long trailing antennae, clung like barnacles to the body of the ship.
“Ugly,” Taj offered.
“I wouldn’t want to fight the son of a bitch,” Zabb said, rightly interpreting Taj’s comment as less an artistic critique than a strategic one.
“You may have made that unavoidable. Do you realize the trouble the pair of you have caused?” Taj suddenly ejected.
“Sometimes I amaze even myself,” and Zabb forced a smile he really didn’t feel.
They met in a conference room provided by the Bonded station for just this kind of meeting. It was furnished with perches for the Aevrй, tunnels for the Kondikki, a garden complete with a swing and other toys for the Rhindarians, and a comfortable collection of couches and tables for those who required less stimulation for their discussions. The Network representatives had taken up residence on one of the sofas.
Zabb had read the histories, which indicated that the Master Traders could appear as anything. The forms they selected were those most likely to be pleasing to the other party in a negotiation. He’d discounted it as sensationalism. He shouldn’t have.
The figure flanked by Nesfa on one side and a Ly’bahr warrior on the other was H’ambizan, the Ilkazam astronomer who legend held had discovered the living ships of Takis and tamed them to his will.
The presence of the Ly’bahr gave Zabb a nasty turn. The cyborg warriors were the most feared in the known galaxy, and Zabb couldn’t help but wonder if Taj and five guards were enough to handle the Ly’bahr if it should come to a fight.
Taj caught the thought and sent back a gloomy, We’re not, in reply.
Zabb hated to feel off balance, and he decided to rectify the situation. Fixing a smile on his lips, Zabb moved first to Nesfa and took her hand. She took it back, looking none too pleased to see him. “Nesfa, my dear, welcome back.”
The Master Trader rightly read the snub for what it was and took command, saying, “Prince Zabb, I am Master Trader Bounty, owner of the trade ship Bounty.”
Zabb raked the Master Trader from head to toe and back again. Coldly he said, “My class and kind represent the culmination of twenty thousand years of selective breeding. Whatever you are, you are not Takisian, and you are most certainly not H’ambizan. I resent your casual assumption of my ancestor’s form, as if your show of mirrors and smoke could ever make you one of the Most Bred.”
“No offense was intended, Prince. What form would you like me to assume?”
“I don’t care, so long as it is not Takisian.”
The Master Trader shrugged, and there was a momentary darkness as if Zabb had suddenly gone blind. When sight returned, Bounty had metamorphosed into one of Nesfa’s people.
Zabb graciously inclined his head. “Welcome to Takis.”
“I would be better pleased if I were here under more pleasant circumstances.” Bounty leaned forward intently. “You signed a contract with me, Prince.”
“Indeed? I do not recall it, sir.”
“With one of my Aevrй pilots acting as my agent… if you insist on precision, sir.”
“I do, in everything. And I suppose under the conditions as you have described them, I did a sign a contract. Unfortunately events have necessitated an alteration in the terms.”
The Master Trader matched Zabb smile for smile. “Then you intend to return to Network service?”
“Let me be precise… no. I’m afraid I have terminated my affiliation with the Network.”
“And I am afraid that’s not possible. The sanctity of a contract is our highest law.”
“It is not, however, mine.”
“Then we have a very serious problem,” the Master Trader mused.
“I can see where you might.”
The Ly’bahr didn’t care for that. It focused its glowing optics – set on articulating stalks on each shoulder – on Zabb. The light glittering off its burnished red metal shell danced almost painfully in the eye. Zabb was willing to bet the alloy was extremely reflective of laser fire.
“So you are willing to make no accommodation to settle this problem?” the Master Trader asked.
“I didn’t say that -” Zabb began, only to be interrupted by Nesfa.
“Well, I’m not. I want him, piloting our ship, fulfilling the contract. Otherwise you’re in violation of your contract with me,” she said pointedly to Bounty.
The Master Trader sighed. “You seem to have had quite an effect upon our Nesfa.”
“It’s a positive gift,” Zabb said, and allowed himself a slight smile.
“You won’t return and fulfill the terms of your lifetime contract?” Bounty asked mournfully.
“No.”
“Then I suppose there is nothing more to be said, and we may be forced to take more drastic measures.”
“I would strongly urge against that,” Zabb said softly. “As you yourselves aver… wars are bad for business.”
“And the flouting of contracts is worse. You set a dangerous precedent, Prince Zabb.”
“I’m a dangerous man.” Zabb signaled to his escort, and they rose.
“Are these negotiations at an end, Prince?” Bounty asked.
“Let’s just say this session is.” And never turning their backs on the hulking Ly’bahr, the Takisians exited the room.
For most of his life Jay had been resigned to being average. Now he had the height advantage, and it was great. He could look over the heads of hundreds of milling, seething, and pushing Takisians and see hundreds more milling, seething, and pushing Takisians.
Jay hitched the luggage higher under one arm, and with the other gathered Hastet and the baby a little closer. “Something’s happened. Maybe we ought to get back on the train.”
“We don’t have tickets, and they’re turning people away.”
“Yeah, but money talks.”
“Not loudly enough to be heard over this. Let’s just get out of the station. The elevator is only a few streets away.”
“Okay, stick close.”
The problem was they were moving against the flow. Everybody wanted out of Ban. It hurt Jay to fly in the face of whatever conventional wisdom was impelling these crowds. A couple of times they got stalled, and Jay contemplated just popping bodies out of the way. But the last thing they needed was a panicked stampede. At last the stairs.
Inside the station proper, something wet struck his cheek. Jay looked up. The roof had been blown off the building. Rain was weeping down on the rubble and bodies. All the little shops were closed, a few barricaded. In one the Takisian version of hot dogs were cooking to a cinderlike consistency on the grill.
Off in the distance there was a rapid pulselike sound. It didn’t resemble gunfire, but it sure sounded like some sort of weapon. Jay hesitated. He was none too eager to sally forth into a war zone. On the other hand, he didn’t want to go back down into the ant farm. He decided he’d rather be shot than squashed like a grape in a wine press.
“I’m trying to decide if camping out here or looking for a hotel or hospital or something would be smarter.”
Hastet looked at him, startled. “We’re going to the elevator.”
“Honey, I don’t think this is the aftermath of a bad party. It looks like there’s a war happening here, and I suspect that normal service has been interrupted.”
“Not the elevators. They were built in common and owned in common. They’ll do everything to keep them running.” Hastet headed for a door.