“An innovation,” Dar said truthfully. “We’re constantly trying to improve conditions, sir.”
The rest of the entourage had trooped in; the corporal shut the door behind them. He and the sergeant discreetly took up places at the corners of the room.
“Honorable Bhelabher …” The fox-faced man appeared at the skinny man’s elbow. “… it may be that these good people are unaware of your official status.” He gave Dar a glare of such intense malice that Dar felt his blood-temperature drop. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Reverend Haldane wince just the tiniest bit.
“Well taken, Canis, well taken,” Bhelabher harrumphed. He turned back to Dar. “See here, fellow—do you know who I am?”
“Not really, sir—but I would like to find out. May I see your passport, please?” Dar decided Sam might’ve had the right idea after alclass="underline" strychnine. “Fellow,” indeed!
“Passport!” Bhelabher bellowed. “Young man, I’ll have you know I’m your new governor!”
Dar paused and widened his eyes just a trifle; then he leaned forward, holding out his hand. “An interesting theory, Honorable; I’ll have to validate it with Government House. I’m afraid I haven’t heard anything about Governor Shacklar being replaced, though. May I see your passport, please?”
“Absurd! On a planet full of convicts, certainly I should be above suspicion!”
“But because this is a convict planet, no one can be above suspicion,” Dar said smoothly. “I’m afraid I must insist on seeing your credentials, Honorable.”
Bhelabher began to redden, making choking, gargling sounds; but the fox-faced man put a hand on his arm, and he subsided just short of magenta. “Very well, if you must!” Bhelabher growled. “Atavista, our credentials, please.”
A skinny young woman stepped up to open a folder and lay a set of microholos on the counter. Her clothing was skintight and transparent which, given her figure, wasn’t exactly an advantage; but Dar found he had to focus very tightly on her face anyway. That definitely did the trick.
Sam took the microholos and began feeding them through the terminal. Dar noticed that the bottom wafer was a plastyrus envelope with Shacklar’s name on it.
Reverend Haldane stepped up next to Dar, collecting the wafers as Sam handed them back. He glanced at the fox-faced man and murmured, so softly that Dar could scarcely hear him, “Each person has copies of all those documents in his luggage.” Dar carefully didn’t let anything show in his face, but he pressed his hand flat against the counter to show he’d heard. He also noticed that the plastyrus envelope didn’t come back to the stack.
Sam finished and turned to murmur something to the Reverend. He turned to Dar and murmured, “Officer Bine says the documents bear a lock-code and will not read through our Central.”
Nice, Dar thought. He’d wondered how he was going to justify it. Sam seemed more interesting than ever. “I’m afraid we’ll have to retain your documents, Honorable.”
“What?”
Dar glanced up to make sure the roof was still on the shack, then back to Bhelabher. “I’m afraid we’ll have to retain your credentials. You see, they seem to be locked under a security code which hasn’t been transmitted to our computer.”
“This is outrageous!” Bhelabher stormed. “Of all the inconceivable idiocies I’ve encountered, this has to be the most imbecilic! Young man, I will not tolerate this!”
“I’m afraid we have no choice,” Dar said regretfully. “And, under the circumstances, I’m afraid it will be necessary to search every item of your party’s luggage.”
Bhelabher began reddening and gargling again, and the fox-faced man’s glare narrowed to an ice pick.
“I appreciate that you may find this unacceptable,” Dar sympathized. “If so, the shuttle isn’t quite done refueling yet; I’m sure the pilot will be glad to take you back.”
Bhelabher clamped his jaw shut, his eyes bulged, and the room was very silent for a few seconds. Then he released a huge hiss of breath and snapped, “Very well. We’ll begin with mine. Canis, the bags, please.”
Canis glanced at him, frowning, but stepped forward and hoisted two valises onto the counter. Dar opened them and passed them to Sam and the Reverend, who each began shuffling through the stacks of paper-thin garments in a half of each bag. Dar couldn’t detect anything being removed but, when Sam closed the bag, set it upright on the counter, and turned to nod to Dar, there was a very meaningful look in her eye.
Dar made a mental note that she was a sleight-of-hand artist, too, and never to play poker with her; but he also started making very definite plans to start playing some other game with her as soon as he could maneuver her into it. He opened the next suitcase and passed it on.
They were quick, she and the Reverend; but there were a lot of bags, and the time stretched out. The aides began to mutter and grumble to one another, but Bhelabher stood rock-still, legs apart, hands clasped in front of him; and Canis stood like a malevolent statue at his side—or a ventriloquist’s mannequin, Dar thought. He wondered which one was really doing the talking.
Finally Sam closed the last case and gave him the nod. Dar turned to Bhelabher with a smile. “All done, Honorable.”
“Thank you,” Bhelabher said sourly. “I assume we now have the freedom of the planet?”
“Uh—I’m sorry, Honorable.” Dar looked up in surprise. “I thought I’d made that clear.”
“Clear? How so?” There was an ominous rumble under Bhelabher’s voice.
“Your credentials,” Dar explained. “We can’t admit you officially until they’ve been verified with Government House. We should have them back to you in twenty-four hours, though.”
“Twenty-four hours!”
“If General Shacklar has the lock-code for your documents. Longer, if he doesn’t. But I’m sure he will.”
There was a moment’s silence while Bhelabher’s face puffed up and passed magenta.
Dar braced himself.
Then the Honorable erupted. Dar leaned into the blast and listened closely; he was always out to improve his vocabulary. He wasn’t sure what half the words meant; but he did get the impression that:
1) the Honorable was somewhat distressed by this turn of events;
2) the delay was totally unacceptable;
3) there was obviously a conspiracy afoot to prevent his assuming his rightful post; and that
4) he thought Dar’s hide would make an excellent ornament for his new office, nailed to the wall and tastefully decorated with a carefully balanced pattern of intersecting whip-welts.
When Bhelabher ran down, Dar glanced at Sam, who whipped out a pad and jotted down a few lines.
“Your protest is noted,” Dar said with a small, polite smile, “but I’m afraid that’s all we can do about it. Regulations are regulations, Honorable. I’m sure you understand.”
Bhelabher took a breath, but the sergeant cleared his throat rather loudly and transferred his blaster rifle from his left shoulder to his right. Bhelabher paused in mid-gasp, glanced at the soldier out of the corner of his eye, then slowly closed his mouth and turned back to Dar. “Of course. Quite. I trust you have accommodations for myself and my staff while we endure this outrage?”
“Not here at the port,” Dar admitted. “But there are some transient facilities in town. The sergeant will show you the route—and stay nearby, in case you should need anything.”
“Solely for our convenience,” Bhelabher said dryly. “Surely.”
He turned to survey his staff. “Well … there seems to be no help for it. I see now how badly this poor, benighted colony needs our ministrations, good people. However, until we have an opportunity to streamline this laughable attempt at a bureaucracy, I’m afraid we’ll have to endure some inconvenience. Please be patient.” He started toward the door.