Tor nodded gracelessly. "I still don't like being followed around, but I guess that there's nothing much that I can do about it!"
The next local morning, Jirik and Tor returned to the Library. As Jirik had predicted, the official with whom they had an appointment was not the one that they needed to reach; and, also as predicted, it took many more credits to continue up the bureaucratic ladder. Finally, they reached the "Assistant Director for Business Management," who had the authority to negotiate the book deal. After some hours' negotiation and a sizeable bribe, they obtained a letter authorizing the copying.
It was late in the local day when the arrangements were finally completed. Tor's outrage had returned, but Jirik pronounced himself happy with both the pace of the negotiations, and the deal that they had made. Before they returned to the space station and the Lass, Jirik made several vidphone calls, arranging appointments with various blank bookchip suppliers for the following day.
The next day, they talked with each of the five suppliers, gathering bids, then returning to the one offering the best deal to sign the contract and arrange delivery to the room in the Library complex that they had been allowed to rent.
As they left the company's office, a weary Tor announced his readiness to return to the Lass, but Jirik insisted that they find an apartment or hotel near the Library that they could use as temporary berthing and headquarters, rather than returning to the ship every local night. Tor was appalled at the cost of hotel accommodations, and only slightly less so at the cost of monthly apartment rentals, but Jirik finally, wearily, pronounced his satisfaction with a small three-room apartment whose main room could be converted from office to sleeping area and back again. Before finally collapsing into bed, Jirik vidphoned Bran on the Lass, giving him the address and directions to the apartment, and asking him to bring down clothing and toilet articles for all of them the following local morning.
By the time a month had passed, Tor had to admit the wisdom of maintaining a local headquarters, despite the cost. The days had attained a dull sameness that left all of them pining for open space. Every morning, they trudged to the Library to begin the seemingly endless task of copying millions of volumes. they had hired six clerks to help, but Bran had estimated that they could save a week if all of them helped. By the end of a local month, they had copied slightly over three million volumes. Since they had purchased copying rights to fifteen million, their progress was not impressive. Jirik managed to rent a larger room in the Library complex, and added six more terminals and clerks.
After two months, they had nearly ten million volumes, but the mind-numbing simplicity of the repetitive tasks was telling on all of them but Bran, who claimed that he simply reread favorite books in memory. Tor had finally begun getting out and sightseeing Alpha, and Jirik had had to be bailed out of jail three times for brawling.
The three had begun celebrating each million volumes copied with a drink at a quiet bar near the Library. They hadn't heard from Tomys, which Jirik and Tor had decided was good news, but which made Bran apprehensive. That Tomys had not forgotten them, however, was made clear at their gathering celebrating the fourteen-millionth volume, when Tomys walked calmly into the bar, and approached their table.
By the time Tomys walked up to the table, the three were watching him warily. He pulled up a chair and joined them without invitation.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said quietly. "I assume that all of you know who and what I am by now." Three heads bobbed in unison.
"Good," he continued. "I understand that the last of your cargo should be loaded within no more than two weeks. Is that correct?"
Jirik shrugged. "We should be finished with this infernal copying in about a week," he replied, "I'd be very surprised if it took more than a couple of days to get it crated, shipped to the station, and loaded. We've tentatively scheduled a departure window for ten days from now. Did you come to give us instructions?"
It was Tomys' turn to shrug. "Not really. Until you get back to the rim, you don't need any. Rather, I came to you for information. Have you signed on an Astrogator yet?"
Jirik shook his head. "No. I talked to the Guild today, as a matter of fact. I'll be talking to three candidates tomorrow. Now, why don't I think that that's news to you?"
Tomys smiled. "I've no idea. Actually, it is news. I know a lot, Captain, but I'm not omniscient. The reason that I'm concerned is that I have to know as soon as possible which Alliance Customs Port you'll be visiting, if any. I know that you didn't stop at one on the inbound trip, but given the circumstances, that's understandable. However, this time you'll be carrying contraband. I strongly suggest that you stop at one, and that you tell me which one, so that I can jump there before you and make sure that you aren't arrested for smuggling, either there, or by a Patrol ship at a recal stop. I want you to have a completely clean cargo ticket when you reach the rim. How soon will you know which Customs port?"
Jirik grinned. "You're so good to us. If you're asking how soon we'll have a course plotted, I don't know. But if you just want to know which Customs Port, I can tell you that, coming from this sector, I usually stop at Kester's World for customs clearance."
Tomys nodded. "Kester's world it is, then. Please don't get cute, Captain. I'm just trying to help. I'll see you there." He smiled thinly. "But I'm not sure that you'll see me, unless I need to pass some instructions." Tomys turned and walked out, his slight, hunched figure drawing snickers from some of the bar's patrons.
"So, that's a Class I," Bran commented thoughtfully. "I'd bet that one of his main advantages is everyone's natural tendency to underestimate him."
Jirik was scowling. "Yeah. I've known all along what he is, and I still have to consciously remind myself."
Tomys' visit had considerably dampened the mood of the festivities, and the three adjourned early.
As the monumental task of copying began to wind down, Jirik spent less time on the mind-numbing task, and more time preparing for their departure. Over the next week, he began commuting more and more frequently between the surface and the space station, directing stowage of their hard-earned cargo, and using the facilities of the Spacers Guild to research and interview Astrogator candidates.
The Guild had over fifty Astrogators listed as looking for a berth. The fact that the job was temporary, for one run only, limited the applicants, however. Jirik's refusal to consider anyone who had not been listed before Tomys' earliest possible arrival date further thinned the list. Over a period of several days, Jirik interviewed six candidates. His final selection was a man named Jef Kontar.
Kontar was originally from the rim, from Toolie, though he had left there at age twelve. He had been in space nearly thirty years, and had become homesick for the alleged peace and serenity of the rim, Knowing that Kontar's nostalgia was strongly tinged by childhood misconception, Jirik tried honestly to administer a dose of reality, but Kontar was firm in his rose-colored memories. Jirik asked him about Ran Atmos, and Kontar chuckled.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a lot of years, Captain, he replied. "Yeah, we had to learn about him in school, but that's ancient history. Nobody paid much attention to it."
Jirik was uncomfortable. "I think that you'll find that everyone pays attention to him, now. You've been away for a lot of years. You're going to find a lot of changes."
Kontar laughed. "Hell, Captain, I'm not worried. Things change slowly on farm worlds. That's one reason that I want to get back to one. Don't worry, Captain," he continued more seriously "I've been on a lot of worlds in the past thirty years. I think that I can adapt to the one where I was born!"
Jirik shrugged. He'd tried. He did caution the man to go slowly, and to approach Toolie as though it were a new world for him. It was all that he could do to prepare the man for what was sure to be a shock.