Not to mention, he reminded himself, that the woman might be a fanatic terrorist. Then, of course, there was the inevitable sexual tension associated with a female crewman. On the other hand, She was an experienced and apparently skilled astrogator, and moreover the only one available. Even if Boondock would let him lift off without an Astrogator, only a fool would attempt a high-risk run like this one without one; and Jirik was no fool. He sighed deeply. If this Telson was the only qualified applicant, it was definitely going to be a long passage.
Struck by another idea, he called one of the rim tramp captains that he had met in town, and asked him to spread the word of his need. With luck, perhaps another and more suitable applicant would show up.
Lost in thought, Jirik jumped reflexively as the vidphone sounded an incoming call. It was the smuggler. Careful to say nothing that could identify his business, the man asked Jirik's decision. Carefully, Jirik told the man that he still had his doubts, whereupon the man replied that he would come to Jirik's office to discuss the matter. Jirik grudgingly assented, and the man signed off abruptly. A worried Jirik stared at the darkened screen for some minutes, unleashing a litany of curses in a low, but impassioned, monotone. Oh, well, he comforted himself, at least this time he would have the Alliance's, and maybe the Empire's blessing on his smuggling. He could leave Customs to Tomys to handle.
In theory, all he would have to do is find a decent hiding place for the contraband, and Tomys would ensure that the Customs inspectors didn't find it. Twenty years ago, he would have reveled in such a luxury. He was getting too old for these games, he decided for about the fiftieth time since meeting Tomys.
He turned back to the Astrogator's logbook. The woman might be a bitch, but she seemed to be one hell of an astrogator. Jirik was interested to note that Telson had spent two years running cargoes on a route that included Jermain's World. Jermain's World was an anomaly; a system whose star had gone nova millennia ago, and which had a surviving planet.
A permanent scientific outpost had been established there, in an attempt to explain this curiosity. True, Jermaine's was very far from it's primary, and one theory held that it had been the outermost planet of the system, and had perhaps been in the shadow of a larger, closer planet when the star went nova. Another theory was that Jermaine's had been a wanderer, captured by the resulting red dwarf after the cataclysm.
Most spacers subscribed to the former theory, based on the fact that the planet was a virtual treasure trove of heavy elements, all on or near the surface. The richness of these surface deposits had lured mankind to the uninhabitable planet, undeterred by the horrific 2G gravity field, and the total lack of an atmosphere.
The point was that Jermaine's system was an astrogator's nightmare. Debris from the shattered inner planets made every trip to Jermaine's a run through a virtual minefield. An astrogator who could conn his ship to Jermaine's on a regular basis for two years without mishap was an impressive woman, loner or not! Jirik decided to defer judgment on Telson until he could talk to her.
It was nearly local noon, and Jirik was debating locking the office and going to lunch, when Telson arrived. Jirik was shocked when she entered the office. A Metrangan elf! He was amazed. It was very rare for a Metrangan to be found off their planet. It was simply too dangerous for them. Matrangans were in danger anytime they left their protected planet.
For some reason that no one but perhaps a few scientists understood, the people of Metrango, though Earth-descended, had developed distinctive physical characteristics that seemed to breed true.
For one thing, they were physically small; Even the men rarely reached 175 centimeters tall. For another, some evolutionary quirk had caused them to develop a fine layer of downy, barely visible golden fur over most of their bodies.
Telson's fur began just beneath her chin; her bare face was heart-shaped, with delicate features. Her complexion was definitely a distinctive gold, not just a shade of brown, and her face was surrounded by a mass of 'normal' hair of light red color. The hair disappeared into her collar; Jirik had read that it grew down her neck and partway down her back, which must cause discomfort when wearing almost any kind of top. Even in Boondock's 1.4G, she moved with impressive grace.
Instead of the usual tunic, she wore a top that appeared to wrap itself around her, displaying her smallish breasts to advantage. The top's bright red color enhanced her golden skin, as did the blackness of her nearly skin tight slacks. The overall effect was one of spectacular elegance in a small package; Jirik estimated that she was just under 160 centimeters tall.
Universally called "Elves," Matrangans were in great demand among slavers and those perverted 'normals' willing to pay premium prices to 'own' an elf. Every time Telson stepped out into public, she was risking kidnap and slavery, often sexual slavery. She must be very good at unarmed combat, or at concealing weapons! The Empire Fleet had established a large space station in the Metrango system to protect the Metrangans from pirates and slavers.
Jirik tried to avoid staring, but his spectacular visitor made that difficult. Of course, he was sure she was used to the stares of "normal" humans by now. Jirik reflected that for someone accused of being a hermit, she certainly smiled a lot. A wide smile seemed a permanent part of her face.
Jirik greeted her politely, and ushered her to a seat. "We're very short of time," he said, tearing his eyes from her golden-furred figure. "Let's get down to business. You've served on independent traders before, so I'm sure that you're aware of my concerns."
The white grin widened even more. "Am I a good astrogator, why I'm such a 'gypsy', and why my captains keep calling me a loner? Right?"
Jirik returned the smile. "Right. Your record tells me that you're a good astrogator. On this trip, you'd have to be better than good. A very good chance exists that we'll be the target of half the pirates in the Alliance and the Empire. I need an astrogator who can run us an unusual course to Alpha; who can find us out-of-the-way recal points. We can't fight pirates; we're unarmed. That means we'll have to avoid them. I need an astrogator that can help me do that."
The smile had disappeared. Jirik was beginning to think that the smile was an effective barometer of the woman's feelings.
"What's the cargo, Captain?" Telson asked "Why would pirates be chasing you?"
"I'll tell you that in space, if I take you on." Jirik replied gruffly. "The point is, could you navigate us an erratic course to Alpha, and find us recal points that no one ever uses?"
Telson's smile reappeared. "Captain, one advantage of being a 'gypsy' is that you become familiar with a lot of out-of-the-way systems. I'm probably much better qualified to do what you ask than your original astrogator was. I assume he was the spacer that I heard got beaten half to death in town last night?"
Jirik's face clouded. "Yeah. Now, since you've mentioned it, we might as well just get right to it. What's wrong with you, Telson? Why do you gypsy from ship to ship, and why do your captains keep using words like 'private' and 'standoffish' to describe you? Do you have a problem getting along with other crewmen?"
The white teeth gleamed. "You're not very subtle, are you, Captain? I like that. To answer your question," she continued, "I'm a Matrangan Elf, Captain. We can't help the fact that some quirk of evolution made us into something that resembles a popular fairy-tale creature. Unfortunately, normals consider us 'cute' and 'cuddly', and even 'sexy'. That means there are a lot of normals who want to make pets or sex slaves of us. And spacers are no exception. I've become something of a loner in self defense.