"I see three possibilities," Bran replied. "One, Tomys is right about everything. Cony's going to try to recruit us, or at least you, but will try to kill us if he can't. Two, He's wrong about them trying to recruit us, and Cony will try to kill us and grab the Lass. Or, Three, It's all crap, and we'll simply unload, get paid, and lift off unmolested."
Jirik shrugged. "Well, I don't see much hope of that last one happening. Too many things have happened that just wouldn't add up if it were all innocent."
Valt was alarmed. "But both of the other options involve them trying to kill us!"
"That's right," Jirik replied somberly. "So, we're going to take all of the precautions we can until we know for sure which way it goes. Even if he tries to hire me, or us, I can't cave in and sell out too cheaply. That would only make Cony suspicious, and more likely to kill us just as a precaution. So, I've got to try to hold him up for big credits. The trouble is that that could be just as risky. If I go too high, he may decide that it's not worth it, and kill us anyway. We're walking a very thin tightrope in heavy G."
"Yeah," Bran agreed, "and we can't just hole up aboard and prepare for attack. We've got cargo to deliver. That means strangers aboard, no matter what we do, and any of them could be carrying a gas bomb, or a weapon. Besides, if we don't collect our payment, we're effectively broke, and marooned on that damned planet. We won't even have enough operating capital to refuel and reprovision. Two of us have to leave the Lass."
"Besides," Jirik added, "I have to deliver Cony's damned battle comp software and weapon specs. Talk about walking into the spider's web!"
"Damn!" Valt exploded. "Between them, Tomys and Cony have trapped us right in the middle! Well, To hell with both of them! What can we do?"
"I've been giving it some thought," Jirik replied in massive understatement. "First, I'm going to break an ironclad rule. Before we break out, each man will draw a weapon from the weapons locker, to carry at all times until further notice. Second, during unloading, those not directly involved in the unloading itself will remain on the bridge until unloading is complete.
We'll take spacesuit breathing units and hide them on the bridge. That way, if one of the workmen does have a gas bomb, you'll be ready. Bran, I want you to rig a sniffer to detect gas, with an alarm on the bridge." Bran nodded, and Jirik continued, "We'll need four breathing units. If one of those guys does have a gas bomb, it will be on a delay timer, to get us all."
"While we're unloading, you'll keep the passenger lock closed, and the intruder alarm activated. Damn! I wish I'd kept a couple of those spy-eyes! If we had some, you guys could monitor the longshoremen; watch for suspicious actions." He shrugged. "No use crying over spilled beer. We'll just have to do the best we can."
"When I go to town to deliver the contraband and get paid, I'll take one of you with me. The other two will secure the locks and fort up aboard. One can search the hold for a bomb, but the other is to stay on the bridge, monitoring port comm traffic, and watching for anyone heading for the Lass.
"They won't risk a frontal attack; that would attract too much attention. No, it'll be some innocent-looking person or official, with a genuine-sounding errand. If someone does approach, One of you will go to him, while the other covers him from concealment. Don't go to the lock alone, no matter how innocent it looks. I don't give a crap if your mother walks up to the lock. You'll treat her as an assassin until proven otherwise. Clear?"
Three heads nodded glumly. "How soon will we know what's going on?" Tor wanted to know.
Jirik shrugged. "There's no way of telling. We'll simply offload, then go to collect our pay. I have no idea when Cony's agent will try to contact me for delivery of the contraband, or if Tomys will try to contact us. We're having to play a lot of this thing by ear, and I don't like it. We're just going to have to be ready for anything."
Valt was amazed at the quantity and variety of weapons that Jirik kept in the weapons locker. Jirik hadn't been exaggerating his collection. As the crew expert on individual weapons, Jirik helped the others pick out weapons suited to their abilities. The unskilled Tor received a small hand laser. The laser was good for only a few shots, but Jirik gave Tor two spare cells. Valt received a larger, military-model needler, since his large frame would permit its concealment. Each of the needler's magazines contained over a thousand 2mm hardened alloy projectiles, which it sprayed in steady stream. While each needle produced minimal damage, half a magazine would punch a hole in a brick wall. Valt also received two spare magazines, prompting him to wonder loudly if he was expected to fight off an army. Bran also chose a needler, a smaller pocket version.
Breakout and maneuvering for Wayoff was strictly routine, though traffic was heavy. Wayoff was the only rim world with a space station permitting the reception of larger ships. Since no ship larger than Delta or DIN Class was capable of planetary landings, only Wayoff, of all the rim worlds, had much direct contact with other Alliance and Empire planets. Jirik was slightly surprised to see a Beta Class freighter loading cargo, as he had assumed that commerce along the rim was handled by the ubiquitous rim tramps. Jirik nudged the Lass toward a berth just being vacated by a rim tramp.
As the docking clamps gripped the Lass' hull, Jirik breathed a sigh of relief. After the last few months of visiting the largely isolated rim worlds, he was bothered more than he cared to admit by the congested space around Wayoff.
Wayoff was also the first of the rim worlds at which the Port Captain sent a deputy, instead of coming himself The man examined the ship's papers and manifests perfunctorily, and assigned them space in the bonded warehouse area in which to store their cargo. Once offloaded, the man explained, they would be required to vacate their present berth, and take up station orbiting the planet until their business was completed, commuting by the Lass' lifeboat. The man only nodded at Jirik's "Busy port!"
Actually, Jirik was experiencing mixed emotions at the requirement. On one hand, they would have an excuse for buttoning tip the ship and challenging anyone who approached. On the other hand, they would be isolated from the comforting crowding of the bustling port. They would be more vulnerable to open attack, and farther from help should such an attack materialize. They arranged docking for the Lass' boat, and the Deputy Port Captain departed after giving them a shuttle schedule to the surface.
Chapter 15
It was several hours before a harassed-looking Customs agent appeared at the Lass' passenger lock. In a singsong tone that implied a canned speech delivered hundreds of times, he explained that the customs inspection would be conducted during offloading, and that clearance to ship their cargo down to the planet would be given at the bonded warehouse area. He reminded them that no one, not even the crew, would be able to enter the bonded area once their cargo had been cleared. Jirik nodded, but the man wouldn't leave until Jirik had acknowledged the instructions in writing.
As the Customs man left, the longshore crew appeared, and offloading began immediately and efficiently. Jirik was impressed. Many larger Alliance and Empire centers of trade could learn something from these rimworlders. A clerk in a Customs Service tunic examined each pallet of bookchips closely, and checked it off the bill of lading.
Within hours the offloading was complete, and the longshoremen and Customs clerk walked rapidly off. Within minutes, Traffic Control hailed them, wanting to know-how soon they could vacate the offloading berth. Somewhat taken aback by the hectic pace of commerce on Wayoff, Jirik indicated their readiness, and was given orbital data for the orbit that they were to assume. Traffic Control had hardly stopped speaking when the docking Clamps clunked, releasing the Lass to assume her assigned orbit.