“Packing up.” Dar punched a button and watched the shack start folding itself back into a cube. “We’re getting back to town.”
“I said something?”
“You did—and you’ve got to say it again, as soon as possible. To Shacklar. We’ve got to make sure he knows what’s coming.”
3
Whatever you do, don’t let him know what’s coming,” Cholly advised.
“But he’s gotta get ready!” Dar protested. “Repel boarders! Fire when he sees the gleam of their spaceship! Damn the triplicates, full speed ahead! Over the top!”
“Under the counter,” Cholly corrected. “Whatever happens, he’s got to be able to truthfully say he doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Oh.” Dar caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth. “I forgot about that.”
“Don’t.” Cholly began polishing the bar again. “A clean conscience and a clean record, lad.”
“First rule in political lying,” Dar explained to Sam. “Don’t. Be able to claim somebody misunderstood you—or did it on their own.”
“We’ll have to do it on our own, for this one,” Cholly amended. “The General’s a horrible liar. Can’t even claim he was misunderstood.”
Dar nodded resolutely. “Right. How about a quick commando raid?”
“Illegal,” Cholly pointed out.
“You don’t think you can get rid of Bhelabher legally!” Sam exclaimed.
“Nay, but we can do it in a way that can’t be proven illegal.”
“He means we’ve gotta be able to claim it was an accident,” Dar explained.
“Great.” Sam’s lips thinned. “ ‘Excuse me, sir, I didn’t mean to slip that strychnine in your martini.’ ‘Oh heavens, my bomb! I dropped it!’ ”
“Effective, but impractical,” Cholly said judiciously. “Very hard to ignore.”
“But you’ve got to do something! Think of the good of the planet!”
“I do,” Cholly said thoughtfully, “and personally, what I’d say this planet needs is a good customs office.”
“Real Scotch whiskey, mind,” the sergeant reminded.
Dar nodded. “Straight from Terra itself—Nova Scotia Regal. Two liters each, for you and your corporal.”
“Fair enough!” The sergeant shouldered his laser rifle and came to attention. “We’ll stand guard day in and day out, mate—for all day tomorrow, that is. Though why you’d want to guard this old shack is beyond my understandin’. Ain’t been nothin’ in there but spare parts an’ waste for ten years.”
“There is now.” Dar peeled off the backing and reached up to press the new sign into place over the doorway of the battered geodesic. “A carpet, five chairs, two ashtrays, and a counter.”
“ ‘Customs Office’?” The corporal squinted up at the sign. “Is this official?”
“Thoroughly,” Dar assured him. “Believe me, I know—I wrote up the orders myself.”
“Shacklar ordered it, hm?”
“You can’t expect him to keep track of every little thing.”
The sergeant let out a throttled moan and stiffened, reddening. Dar looked up at him, frowning, then followed the direction of his gaze—to see Sam coming up to him, dressed in a tight-fitting blue uniform with gold epaulets and a visored beret. Dar stiffened, too—he hadn’t been sure she had a figure.
“Cholly looked up his billings and found a Wolman who’d ordered a sewing machine.” She handed Dar a flat, neatly tied package, oblivious to their stares. “His wife was willing to do a rush job.”
Dar shook himself. “Uh, great. What’d it cost him?”
“Four power packs, six blaster barrels, two circuit chips, and a bathtub.”
“Worth every credit,” the sergeant wheezed, his eyes locked on her.
“Better get to it.” Sam turned to the door. “I’ve got to set up the terminal and the paperwork.”
“Uh—right.” Dar tore his eyes away from her and glanced at his watch-ring. “How much time do we have?”
“Cholly says the ferry’s due to take off from your moon at thirteen o’clock,” Sam said from inside the shack. “What time is it?”
“Thirteen o’clock.” Dar started stripping.
“Here then, Dar Mandra!”
Dar looked up, irritated, then snatched at his uniform; it wasn’t good policy for a Wolman to see soldiers naked, and the man coming up with Cholly was the shaman of the Sars tribe.
“Peace, Dar Mandra.” The shaman held up a hand.
“Uh, peace, Reverend.” Dar scrambled into his uniform, sealed the tunic, and held up a palm. “Honored to see you, but, uh—why’re you wearing a Customs uniform?”
“Why, he’s one of yer staff now, ain’cha, Reverend?” Cholly grinned. “Just to cover all bets, Dar.”
“Ye-e-e-e-ah.” Dar’s eyes slowly widened. “Your ‘hunches’ might come in handy, Reverend.”
“ ‘Officer Haldane,’ for the time being, Dar Mandra.” The shaman wrung Dar’s hand a bit awkwardly; he wasn’t used to the custom. “You understand, I cannot guarantee to know the speaking of their minds.”
“Yes, yes, I know the Power sends the gift when It wishes, not when we do.” Dar clasped his hands behind his back and massaged his knuckles. “But I hope It’ll be with us today, Rever … uh, Officer Haldane.”
“I, too,” the shaman said somberly. “Shacklar must remain with us, Dar Mandra. I have no wish to see my young men die leaning on laser beams—nor yours, either.”
“Definitely not.” Dar was suddenly very conscious of his age.
“And I think you had best arrange matters so I need not speak.”
“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Reverend,” Dar said quickly. “You speak better Terran than I do.”
“It is kind of you—but I do have something of an accent.”
“Less’n mine,” Cholly said. “Still, the Rev has the right of it, lad—there might be an aide who knows something of Wolman.”
“And though I have washed off my dye for the occasion, my nation is written in my face, for him who knows how to see it.” The shaman stilled suddenly, then peered upward. “The Power favors me this day, Dar Mandra. Your enemies approach.”
Dar squinted up at the sky, but couldn’t detect the faintest glimmer of flame. Still … “Your word’s good enough for me, Reverend. Shall we go look official?”
The ferry roared down, blackening the blast pit anew. Dar watched through the window as the ramp slid out and the hatch lifted. He saw the party troop out and stop in consternation at the sight of the shack. The guards glanced at each other and stepped forward; the sergeant went up to the group, holding his rifle at port arms, and had a few words with a fox-faced man in the front row. Another man elbowed his way to the fore to interrupt their conversation. He wasn’t tall exactly, but he gave the impression of towering height; and he was skinny, but he had a massive presence. The longer his conversation with the sergeant went on, the more clearly Dar could hear his voice; but the sergeant remained firm and apparently soft-voiced; he just waited for a blast to blow itself out, then said a few words and leaned into the next blast. But Dar did begin to notice his rifle barrel twitching. Mentally, Dar upped the sergeant two pints of Scotch and a fifth of bourbon.
Finally, the skinny man threw his head up in exasperation and started for the shack. His entourage swept along behind him, and the sergeant followed, poker-faced.
“Get ready,” Dar said softly, “customers.”
The door slammed open, and the skinny man waded in. “Who is responsible for this farce?”
“I’m the senior official present, sir.” Dar kept his face carefully neutral. “May I be of service?”
“Service! You can serve me admirably by dismissing this piece of asininity and conveying us immediately to your Government House!”
“Certainly, sir—as soon as we’ve cleared you through Customs.”
“Customs! This planet has never had a Customs Office! I’ve read all the reports!”