Tomys nodded. "Yeah. From Geneve, originally. Sharp, but naive outside his area of expertise. Big man in both Boondock's government and this coalition of theirs. Be very careful with him. He looks and sounds like an ivory-tower type, but he's shrewd. So, what happened?"
Jirik slammed his fist onto the desk. "I trapped myself, that's what! I trotted out my story, and told him that I was doing preliminary research. He jumped on the idea like a starving man on a sandwich. If it hadn't been for this guy Cony, I think he'd have wanted to sign a contract on the spot!"
Tomys jerked to attention in his chair. "Cony? Albet Cony? The Minister of Trade?"
"Yeah, that's him," Jirik agreed, "You know him, too?"
Tonys' face settled into a poker mask. "Yeah. I think he's the head of the Actionists on Boondock. He was there? What did he say?"
"Well, first he accused me of being a crook," Jirik replied, "And then he saved my butt by reminding both Fanlin and me just how big the old bitch is. He pointed out that we were talking about millions of chips, and millions of credits; too big a deal for Fanlin or me. I managed to get out of there, but I'm still not off the hook. Fanlin's trying to get the Coalition to put together a joint deal, and I'm not sure I'll be able to back out of it gracefully."
"Back out of it?" Tomys replied in a wondering tone, "Why would you want to back out? I mean, we could be talking about a big profit for you and your crew."
"Yeah," Jirik replied grimly, "Too big a profit, and too big a risk. I'm not interested in being responsible for millions of other people's credits. We'd be taking a chance that could destroy all of us. I'm an independent trader, not an interstellar trading combine!"
Tomys was looking thoughtful. "Captain, I think you ought to take the deal, if it's offered. The terrorist group couldn't ignore a chance like that to get what they need from the Empire. If that deal is made, I can practically guarantee that you'll be approached to smuggle restricted equipment or information back to the rim. If we were lucky, we could get the information that we need to eliminate the terrorist threat, and maybe even discredit them entirely!"
"NO!" Jirik roared. "Hell no! I told you before, I'm not about to risk my ship and my crew on some harebrained spook caper. Forget it!"
Tomys' face had turned stony, his body tensed. "You forget," he snarled, "You still hold a reserve commission in the Alliance Navy. I have the authority to activate it. I also have the authority to commandeer your ship. I don't particularly want to do that, but don't doubt that I will if necessary. I suggest you reconsider."
"You Bastard!" Jirik's rage was so towering that Tomys came to his feet warily. "You evil sonofabitch! You keep your bloody hands off my ship and my crew. I'm not risking either one for anybody!"
Tomys eyes had narrowed, his stance wary. "You have no choice, Captain. If I leaked word that you've been working for Alliance Intelligence, none of you would get off this planet alive. Don't mess with me, Captain. I can make you or break you. Don't make me break you!"
Jirik struggled to control his seething rage. "All right, you slimy bastard. What do you want from us?"
"I'm not quite sure yet, Captain," Tomys replied blandly, as though nothing unusual had occurred, "I've got to think about this. I'll be in touch. Meanwhile, just carry on as you have been. Complete your repairs and cargo loading. If Fanlin puts his deal together, don't appear too anxious, but say that you'll consider the deal."
Jirik's fury and frustration continued to seethe as he stalked back to the Lass. They were well and truly screwed. Tomys had a decisively bigger hammer. If he let it leak that the Lass' crew was working for Alliance Intelligence, they were simply dead, either here on Boondock, or after they left, through sabotage during the repairs. If Tomys activated Jirik's reserve commission and commandeered the Lass, and they tried to sneak away, the whole crew could face charges of treason and theft of Alliance property, as well as a whole raft of other charges. There was no place that they could run from charges like that. The Empire would extradite them in a millisecond. There was simply no option for them but to go along with Tomys and hope they survived.
In a truly memorable instance of bad timing, Valt had been waiting for Jirik's return to pour out his miseries and misfortunes. His mistake was made clear to him when his first whining complaint resulted in a raging torrent of verbal abuse and profanity. He retreated hastily from Jirik's barbed and profane tongue.
Summoned peremptorily to Jirik's cabin on the intercom, Bran was somewhat prepared for the flood of curses he encountered. Several minutes were required for him to calm his captain sufficiently to learn what was going on. Like Jirik, Bran could see no way to avoid active involvement in Tomys' plans. They discussed the situation for over an hour before deciding that their only course of action was to continue to conceal the agent's involvement from Valt and Tor, and simply continue repairs and loading while praying that Fanlin would be unable to persuade the coalition members to commit the necessary funds to the project. "One good thing," Jirik growled, "At least we can knock off the spying nonsense, and hit the rack early instead of pub-crawling every night! That damned spook didn't specifically tell me to keep it up, and I wasn't about to ask. As far as I'm concerned, we can tell Valt and Tor that the bookchip idea didn't pan out, and that these midnight meetings are canceled due to lack of interest!"
His fury largely spent, Jirik decided to return to the office to continue work on the load distribution for the incoming cargo, and to await Tor's return. Bran returned to the Engineering deck cursing under his breath at the seemingly endless round of interruptions by his Captain.
For the next ten days, things settled into a comfortingly normal routine for the crew of the Lass. Bran and Valt had been occupied with the repairs, which Bran had finally, grudgingly, signed off as completed. Jirik and Tor had been equally busy, completing arrangements for the delivery, distribution and stowage of the inbound cargo. Jirik had almost managed to forget about Tomys, and had begun to hope that they would be able to go their way unmolested when Fanlin called, asking Jirik to come to his office.
Fearing the worst, Jirik made an appointment for the following day.
Fanlin was clearly excited, greeting them at the door, and pacing nervously back and forth as he imparted the news to Jirik and Tor.
"We're going to do it!" he exclaimed as soon as his visitors were seated. "I just got word from Wayoff. The Coalition is going to underwrite the deal! It looks as though we are in business, Captain!"
"Please, sir," Jirik pleaded, "Please slow down. Exactly what do, you mean?"
Fanlin's tone turned to one of exasperation. "The bookchips man, the bookchips! Surely you haven't forgotten!"
"No," Jirik replied, "I hadn't forgotten; but, sir, I thought that our discussions had been strictly preliminary and theoretical. In fact, I rather thought that the whole idea had been dismissed."
Fanlin seemed puzzled by Jirik's apparent lack of enthusiasm. "But, Captain I told you that I was going to write the Coalition!" A wary look came over his thin face. "What is it, Captain? What's going on? I would have thought that you'd be pleased and excited. Is something wrong?"
Jirik shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "To be quite honest, sir, I had hoped that the Coalition would refuse." His raised hand forestalled Fanlin's heated interruption. "Please allow me to explain, sir. If you'll recall, our previous meeting started out as strictly an effort to gain information about the feasibility of such a deal. Mr. Cony administered a strong dose of reality. I realized that a deal like this is simply too big for an independent trader. I am not prepared to deal with millions of someone else's credits. If anything went wrong, my crew and I could be completely wiped out, and perhaps even find ourselves on a prison planet."