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Tomys began to relax. "So, what did they advise?"

Jirik shrugged. "That I had no real choice but to cooperate, as long as I wasn't asked to endanger either my ship or crew, or perform an act that would be illegal. Should you try to charge us with anything, the Guild will represent us. Should you decide, as you've threatened, to activate my Reserve commission, they have experts in military law who will defend me at my court-martial.

"They said that I should not permit you to use threats of legal action to coerce me or my crew into illegal activity. And that I should warn you that the Guild will be dispatching ships to the rim on a regular basis to keep track of us, and that, should we disappear, or should anything happen to us, the Guild will take legal action to find out just what powers are vested in a Class I, and to press for information, in the media if necessary. Should anything happen to us, every Guild vessel will spread the word to every ship with which they come into contact."

Tomys' expression was veiled. "What else? We may as well get it all out!"

"They had me make a sealed recording," Jirik replied, "A complete report of everything that has happened since you first barged into my office. They had me make a number of copies before I sealed the recording, and to seal them, as well. I'm to tell you that one copy of the sealed recording is in the vaults of the Guild. The others have been dispersed to ships which either have or will be leaving Alpha, consigned to various Guild headquarters, both here in the Empire, and in the Alliance. Those recordings are to remain sealed unless the Lass or her crew disappear or are reported lost under unusual circumstances, in which case a full investigation and explanation will be demanded, Alliance- and Empire-wide. They have also advised that I should continue to record reports as events unfold, and pass them along as I can. I will also be recording all conversations that I have with you, and all orders that I receive."

"You mean that you're recording right now?" Tomys demanded incredulously.

Jirik nodded. "Damned right I am. So far, you've been pushing us around like we were your private operatives, or something. From now on, we'll do as we're told, but I'll be taking precautions to protect us! By the way, The Guild is going to try to make sure that any temporary Astrogator that they refer to me has been listed for a berth since before you could possibly have gotten here, just to make sure that you don't plant an agent on us."

Tomys suddenly looked nervous and thoughtful. "Very clever, Captain. You and your damned Guild, both. Don't forget, though. They told you to go along with my orders; and don't forget, you still have to return to the rim. Considering what you've already done, you'll be safer with me than without me." He paused. "I'm going to have to think about this. You're going to be on Alpha for at least a month, right?" Jirik nodded, and Tomys continued, "All right. I'll be in touch!" The rabbity little man scrambled to his feet and hurried out the door

Jirik was considerably cheered as he walked from the restaurant. As he strode out the door, he crashed into someone trying to come in.

"I'm very sorry, s . . . Tor!" He said, "Kid, I'm sure glad to run into you . . . well," he continued as the boy broke into laughter, "You know what I mean. What're you doing?"

"N-Nothing, really, Captain." The young man replied, "I just came down to say goodbye to Via. You were talking to her, and then you left before I could say goodbye!" he added accusingly.

Jirik Clapped Tor on the back. "Sorry, son. I guess we had other things on our minds. C'mon, I'll buy you a cup of coffee!" He waved the young man back into the restaurant.

Carefully selecting a table well away from the one that Tomys had occupied, Jirik ordered coffee, while Tor ordered a meal. When the waiter left with their orders, Tor asked, "Captain, Didn't you just come out of here?"

Jirik laughed. "Yeah, kid. I had a little meeting with our Alley friend."

Tor looked startled. "You mean . . ." Jirik's upraised hand stopped Tor in mid-sentence.

"Yeah." Jirik replied. "Don't worry, though," he continued, seeing the expression on Tor's face, "Nothing serious happened, except that I took some steps to protect us. I'll tell you and Bran both about it when I meet him tonight. I want you there, too. 2000 local, at the restaurant near the Lass on the station All right?"

The boy nodded. "Y-Yessir. I'll be there. Uh, are we in trouble, again?"

Jirik laughed again. "Naw. Don't worry about it right now." He shrugged dismissively. "The reason that I was glad to run into you, was that I'm about to visit the Library to see what kind of deal we can make, and I thought you'd like to come along."

Tor nearly dropped a mouthful of food. "Yes sir!" he replied, "I'd really like that. Uh . . . to tell you the truth, all these people make me a little uncomfortable. I'm a farmworlder, remember? I'm glad I met you, sir."

Jirik grinned. "I know what you mean. Alpha's quite a bit different from Corona or Boondock, isn't it?"

Tor looked rueful. "It sure is! You know, when I was growing up, I used to dream of places like Alpha, with their huge cities, and billions of people. Now that I'm here, though, they kinda scare me a little. It's kinda hard to believe that people can live all jammed tip together like this. They're kinda cold and unfriendly, too."

"I know what you mean," Jirik replied seriously, "But I grew up on a planet like this one. The first time I visited a farm world, I wondered how people could live so spread out, without close neighbors. I used to think that it must be lonely. All those miles of open space made me uncomfortable. Their friendliness bothered me, too, until I learned to understand it. I thought that they were pushy, and inquisitive about things that were none of their business. It took me several years and several visits to farm worlds before I began to change my mind."

Tor laughed. "Yeah, I guess it would seem like that to an outsider. I guess that what you're trying to tell me is that I'll get used to this, like you got used to farm worlds."

Jirik nodded. "That's it, son. You stay with spacing, and you're going to see a lot of different worlds, with a lot of different ways of living. None of them is particularly better, just different. And, you'll find the nonhumans even stranger. The K'jinn, for instance" He smiled as the boy's head jerked, and continued, "They live in huge tunnels. The whole planet's honeycombed with 'em. Dozens of K'jinn share the same room. They think that a desire for privacy is a perversion."

"But, they have spacers!" Tor protested

Jirik nodded. "Yes, but K'jinn spacers are regarded as perverts and deviants by most of their kind. They're not permitted to mate, for instance, for fear that they might infect their offspring with the obscene desire for privacy and solitude."

"Reethians, on the other hand, regard close association with others for more than a few hours at a time as vaguely obscene. A male Reethian is not permitted to mate until he has seized a 'territory' of at least ten square miles as his domain. It took years of negotiation for the Empire to get the spaceport declared an enclave safe from seizure. That's why the Reethian population is so small. Obviously, there are only a certain number of ten-square-mile tracts possible on the surface of a planet."

Tor had been listening attentively. "Reethians . . . Those are the birdmen, aren't they?"

Jirik nodded. "They're avian. But, listen, kid. You've got to learn to be very careful about your terms. Never call a Reethian a 'Birdman'. It could get you challenged to a duel to the death. You'd be amazed at what terms pick up offensive connotations."

Tor looked puzzled. "I don't understand. I thought that 'birdman' was how they were described!"

Jirik shook his head. "Nope. They consider it an insult. And, if they consider it an insult, it becomes one. On Twilight, for example, to refer to someone as being 'dark' or 'black' could get you shot. The people there tend to be as light-skinned as Frejans are dark. People who are much darker than Twilighters are regarded as mongrels, unfit to associate with their 'civilized' lighter-skinned brothers."