"No, but he has. I'd like to tailor-make a little lesson in the etiquette of negotiation for him."
"You want to benefit him?" Rand sounded mildly astonished.
She smiled slowly.
"In a sense."
"It's been my observation, Joat, that you're not inclined to return good for bad. Nor has there been any solicitation of bribery. Yet, you seem to believe that Mr. Tolof is somehow asking for one. I admit to being puzzled."
"Logic, buddy. It isn't as though this little station is the most sought-after destination in Central Worlds' space, Rand, so sheer volume of work can't be the reason for this kind of delay."
Joat frowned. Two things about her tended to make the overbearing and officious think they could push her around. One was her age. At twenty-three, Joat was extremely young to be the captain and owner-aboard of a starfaring freighter. The other was that she was the adopted daughter of Space Station Simeon-900-C and Channa Hap; the first child to be adopted by a Brain-Brawn pair. For some reason that Joat couldn't fathom, these facts were supposed to make her malleable and stupid. Or, worse, naive, which she couldn't even remember being.
"It's just the way these little, out-of-the-way places operate. Now, I don't object to baksheesh, within reason," she said in a tone that would have alarmed anyone who knew her well. If you lay on the sweet talk thick as honey, make no demands, don't insult me and you sure as blazes don't throw obstacles in my path. Maybe then, she'd pay. Maybe.
Joat spun her gimbaled pilot's chair around and fondly regarded the winking lights of her friend's "face." Technically it wasn't a person-perhaps even not really a personality, if you wanted to get philosophical-but definitely a friend.
The rows of lights that formed its countenance served no purpose but to give Rand expression and to satisfy her low taste for ancient popular entertainments. Just now, they were predominantly yellow, signaling puzzlement.
"Civil servants are like rugs-you have to whack them now and then to get the dirt out. I just want to give him a little goose to teach him not to mess with me," Joat told it.
All the lights flickered yellow.
"You want to give him a barnyard fowl?" Now Rand did sound astonished.
Joat laughed. "In this instance, Rand, a goose means a pinch on the butt to get him going." No sense in shocking a machine. Sometimes she wondered who did the component blocks she'd bought for the basis of the AI.
"Ah!" The lights flickered blue, signaling pleasure in this new understanding; then back to yellow. "But, the references I found to that use of the term referred to it as an expression of erotic interest."
"Not in this case, I assure you," she said dryly.
"Well that's why I thought you wanted to give him the bird."
Joat choked back a laugh.
"I've said something amusing," it accused.
"No, it's me. I took it wrong."
After a moment it said, "Joat, really! If I'm to avoid these verbal pitfalls it would save time if you'd simply tell me why you're laughing. Just because the information is in my files somewhere doesn't justify wasting my energy searching for it."
"So you know why I laughed?"
"You had a misspent youth."
"And a largely misspent adulthood."
"Not really. You've actually accomplished quite a lot for such a young woman. You've only been an adult legally for two years."
Joat squirmed. Praise made her feel as if she was being set up; not least because she'd used it so often and so effectively that way herself.
"Y'know, you sounded kinda exasperated there for a minute," she said lightly.
"I was. And a particularly stupid reaction it is, if I may say so."
"Hey," she shrugged, "you're the one who wanted to understand emotions."
"Understand them, not have them."
Joat raised an admonishing finger. "Knowledge is never wasted."
"While time and energy too often are. Specifically by forcing me to apply this program."
"Well, in general, emotional responses aren't voluntary," she said.
It wasn't really fair to force emotion-analogues on the AI. On the one hand I feel guilty. On the other, it's fun. Such a grubby little emotion, guilt.
"If you don't experience an unexpected reaction once in awhile, then how can you understand emotions? Or put up with 'em for that matter. Remember, understanding makes all things tolerable."
"I had fewer problems with tolerance before I was capable of exasperation! Knowledge or lack of it isn't the problem; this program is the problem."
Uh oh. Clearly Rand wanted that program gone, and was perfectly capable of erasing it.
"Oh no you don't," she said. "I didn't sweat blood creating that program just so you could erase it the first time it runs. You leave it alone. Y'hear me?"
A neatly clipped "Yes." Then: "I suppose I should be grateful that you haven't found a way to irritate me."
"I'm getting close," Joat threatened with a grin. "Frustration and irritation are in the same family, so be prepared. After all, if you want to understand someone you have to walk a kilometer in their…"
"Would you can the quotes, please? If I want to drown in cliches I have access to all four volumes of The Wit and Wisdom of the Known Universe. The unabridged version."
Joat pursed her lips. "Sorry. Uh, have you got anything on Dilton yet?" she prompted.
"According to station records Tolof has had numerous citations for unauthorized power-grabbing. He's exceeded his allotted limit of power seventeen times, but was fined for only the first three."
"Interesting. And what's the name of the individual who waived his penalty charges?"
"Graf Dyson. I'm searching for references to that name."
After a full minute Joat raised a brow and prompted, "Anything?"
"No. Nothing significant, anyway. He lives here and is employed by the Bureau of Fines and Levies, but he has never been recorded as being guilty of the most minor infractions. He leads an exceptionally ordered and modest life, and his credit balance reflects that. Puzzling."
"For a citizen of New Destinies it's unbelievable." Another effect of catering to smugglers; their awareness of what constituted bad behavior was deeply impaired. "Do any of our friends or acquaintances show his name on any of their documents?'
"Yes," Rand replied promptly. "Captain Yandit has received several citations for disturbing the peace, but was never fined. Records show that the fine was waived by Graf Dyson."
"Well then, as Graf Dyson is a friend of a friend, I think we can safely claim acquaintance. Don't you?"
"No."
Joat linked her fingers and cracked her knuckles with a flourish. "Put me through to that mudpuppy in the health office, buddy, and watch me finesse this."
Dilton Tolof's pinched face appeared on the screen.
"New Destinies, Health and Immigration." Then he realized to whom he was speaking and smiled, a thin and somehow sour expression that fitted his pinched face. "Ms. Simeon, if you continue to pester me like this, I'm never going to be able to process your records."
"Well, I was talking to Graf, Graf Dyson? He asked me what was taking me so long. I've got a little present for him, and you know how impatient he gets. We're real good friends." She simpered at the man on the screen in her best fluff-head imitation. "Anyway, he said mentioning his name might serve to, you know, expedite things. Like, as a favor to a friend?"
Tolof's narrow face flushed and he glanced nervously around.
"You know… G. D.?"
"Sure do. Captain Yandit, you may have dealt with him, huge, Ursinoid fellow with a temper? He introduced us at a party one time, and we hit it off right away." Joat snapped her fingers, indicating the speed with which she and Dyson had become fast friends. "Graf said you guys were real close, mentioned that you'd done some deals?" She raised an inquiring brow and smiled knowingly.