Remarkably, the inhabitants of Freehold were very proud of their world’s checkered history, especially its smuggling past. They tended to behave as though even legal cargoes were smuggled, much to the consternation of the legal traders. Business was done in whispers, in bars and back passageways. “Knowing someone,” or at least seeming to, was essential for doing business on Freehold, and the legal traders and captains just shook their heads, shrugged, and did what they had to do to trade. The larger trading combines did have offices and factors on Freehold, but they were used to the unusual atmosphere.
“Do you have contacts or names on Freehold?” Cale asked.
Zant shook his head sadly. “Probably not. I haven’t been here in near twenty years. I expect most of the people I knew died or moved on. We’ll just have to see what we can do.”
They discussed the situation. "There's two ways to handle this," Zant said. "There are legitimate factors on Freehold, and they'll pay a fair price for your diamonds. But there will be questions asked, and you'd better have a good story for them. Of course, we can trade 'em on the smuggler's market, but we'll get skinned on the discount
Cale looked troubled. "I'd rather not deal with a lot of questions
…" he began.
"You won't have to," Dee put in. "I can handle it."
"You?" Cale said, flustered. "But how…"
"You forget," she chided gently. "You happen to have onboard this yacht a very prominent lady. Daughter of the Supreme Archbishop of Faith. This lady is traveling in this sector, and finds diamonds a convenient means of maintaining herself on her travels."
Dee dove into her persona as a rich, spoiled heiress on a fling. She was excited at the opportunity to actually visit a real ‘den of iniquity’. In fact, her first use of that phrase on Angeles had sparked her imagination, and she had spent almost the entire three weeks travel time planning how to dress and behave, and imagining all the deliciously sinful things she would encounter.
Cale and Zant’s more realistic expectations led to some serious disagreements between Cale and Dee. Cale tried repeatedly to warn Dee, but it is often almost impossible to overcome the illusions created by fiction.
Cale had received his docking instructions and was about to sign off from Freehold Control when Zant cut in “One moment, please,” he requested. The man on the screen paused. “Yes?” he replied.
“It’s been some time since I visited Freehold,” he began. “Is Shorty’s still in business?”
The man smiled. “Sure is. The whole place would probably have to shut down if Shorty’s did. If you’d like, I can connect you so you can make an appointment.”
Zant’s answering smile was broad and genuine. “An appointment? Sounds like Shorty’s has gone big time.”
“Naw, not really,” the man replied easily. “But they’re sure busy these days. Hold on.”
After a moment, a small, bald man appeared on the screen, his expressions harried and irritated. “Yes? What is it?”
Zant’s smile faded to one both formal and cold. “Good day to you, sire. My name is Zant Jenfu. I represent the Lady Delilah Raum of Faith.” His tone perfectly matched the cold formality of his smile. “We are aboard her yacht, Cheetah, and are approaching Freehold. My Lady wishes to complete some business on Freehold, and finds we have need of your services. I should like to schedule an appointment to discuss it.” Cale suppressed a laugh. Zant was giving a perfect impression of the haughty factotum of a wealthy dowager.
The man on the screen straightened, and his irritated scowl disappeared. They arranged an appointment for an hour after their scheduled docking time. As they signed off, both Cale and Dee dissolved into gales of laughter.
“You sounded just like Gotroy, my father’s secretary,” Dee said in an admiring tone once she’d regained her composure.
“Yes,” Cale asked, “and if she’s Lady Delilah, who am I?”
Zant’s normal broad grin reappeared. “Why, you’re her personal yacht skipper and bodyguard. Y’see,” he continued, “I realized that jabbo from Control might just listen in to see if he could learn anything saleable. It was a perfect chance to get some rumors started. Now, everyone will hear about the rich Lady comin’ aboard. It’ll give us a legitimate reason to have a fortune in jewels, and it might help keep us out of trouble. Face it,” He shrugged, “Raum is a big name on Faith. Are you sure you don't mind us usin’ it, Dee?”
Dee shrugged, a bitter expression crossing her face. “No, I don’t mind. Why not? It is my name. My father has dishonored it much more than I ever could.”
Zant nodded. “Okay, then here’s what we’ll do. It’s no use trying to be inconspicuous, so let’s go with the plan and be as conspicuous as hell. Dee, you’ll need one of your fancy outfits from Angeles. Cale and I can get away with wearing shipsuits, and we’ll both wear blasters in open holsters. When we board the station, Dee will walk in front, and we will follow behind, doing our best bodyguard act.” He turned to Cale. “I said ‘act’, but don’t doubt it’ll be for real. There are some real lowlifes on Freehold. I hope you can really use a blaster.”
“What about me?” Dee protested. “I’ve got a bag that’s just the right size for a blaster, and I’m better with one than Cale is!”
Zant cocked an eyebrow at Cale, who shrugged. “She’s certainly had more formal training than I have.”
“Conspicuous as hell” certainly described the trio that disembarked from Cheetah. Dee wore a famous Angeles designer’s interpretation of a shipsuit in shimmering aqua. It featured a detachable, flaring, multilayered skirt in rainbow toile, and a flowing waist-length cape in bold pink. The clutch bag she carried vaguely resembled the common utility bag often attached to the waist of a shipsuit, but of course, it matched the shimmering aqua of the suit itself. Her deck slippers were festooned with stones that sent flickers of reflected light in all directions. Dee had commissioned the designer to provide her with several outfits that would be as comfortable as a shipsuit, but “less drab.” She’d almost refused to pay for the eye-popping outfit, but the hurt expression on the designer’s face when she collapsed in hysterical laughter at the sight of the thing had made her feel guilty enough to accept it, though she cancelled the rest of the order. She’d almost thrown the thing away, but now she decided that if Zant wanted ‘conspicuous’, conspicuous he would get. Besides, the garish thing would distract watchers from noticing that her right hand was inside the bag, on the grip of the blaster it contained. Certainly few that saw them paid much attention to the two men following this apparition in plain shipsuits with hands on holstered blasters.
Shorty’s occupied an entire corridor block of the massive planetoid. Armed guard stations were located at each end of the corridor, along with obvious security cameras and less obvious automated weapons systems. The guards were barely successful in keeping straight faces at the sight of Dee’s outfit, but they passed the trio through efficiently, escorting them to the unadorned metal door that was the only break in the corridor’s metal surface. The guard’s hand scan caused the door to slide silently aside, revealing a surprisingly small, neat office. An ordinary office desk faced four plain office chairs. Behind the desk, the same small man they’d seen on the screen looked up and stared at the bright vision entering his drab office.