“A little hard on the citizens.”
“Some people don’t learn valuable life lessons unless they lose money in the process,” Lakuviv said with a shrug. “And since our young friend Yoponek will be on record as asking for this favor, we might find a way to bring the Coduyo in on any fallout, as well.”
“Or earn a favor by not bringing them into it?”
“Possibilities abound,” Lakuviv agreed. He pointed to the brooches. “But the first step is to see what exactly we’re working with.”
“Yes, sir,” Lakjiip said. “Anything else?”
“We need to find a place for them to grow their spices,” he said. “Someplace not too far away—but also not too close—with the kind of marginal land where they can borrow a couple of plots without cutting some farmer or rancher out of any prime property. A small operation would be best, probably family-run. Oh, and the whole family has to speak Minnisiat so they’ll be able to communicate. I presume you can cross-reference all of that?”
“No problem,” Lakjiip said.
“Good,” Lakuviv said. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
“Yes, sir.” Giving him a brisk nod, Lakjiip turned and once again headed to the side door.
Lakuviv watched her a moment, then turned forward again. With that, the excitement of the day was over. “All right,” he said, nodding to the appointments secretary near the main door. “Bring in the next one.”
Xodlak’phr’ooa’s first hint that his afternoon was going to be drastically different from his morning was when he saw the brightly marked official family skycar fly over his ranch, low and slow, clearly looking for a place to land.
Lakphro scowled, shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched the skycar turn toward the rocky hill that jutted up from the middle of his grazing land. If this was another bureaucrat come to count his yubals for tax purposes, he was going to throw the son of a growzer right off his land, then throw the skycar after him. Three different number-squinters had been here in the past month, all three of them coming up with different livestock counts before finally settling on the number Lakphro had filed in the first place. An immense time sink, as well as a pain in the neck.
The skycar had stopped now and was sinking toward the edge of the landing area where Lakphro’s own skytruck was usually parked. That particular spot was also right at the edge of his wife Lakansu’s swirl garden. If the pilot was careless enough to damage her vegetables, Lakphro knew, his own annoyance would be the least of the bureaucrat’s problems.
The skycar was down, and Lakphro was striding toward it and rehearsing his angry speech when a new shadow suddenly fell over him.
He looked up, feeling his eyes widen. The vehicle passing over him wasn’t just a skycar, but a full-blown freighter-sized starship.
And it, too, was heading toward the rocky hill and the parked skycar.
“Dad?” the anxious voice of Lakphro’s twelve-year-old daughter Lakris came from the comm on his shoulder band.
“It’s okay, hun-bun,” Lakphro soothed, watching the ship closely. It looked like it was going to land near the crest, up where there wasn’t anything but rock and scrub. “I think they’re going for the hill. Are the calves skittering?”
“I don’t think so,” Lakris said. “But they are a little nervous. I don’t think they’ve ever seen anything that big up close. But I’m holding them together.”
“Good girl,” Lakphro said. “As soon as you can do it safely, head them back to the barn. We’ll keep them there until this nonsense is over.”
“Okay,” Lakris said. “Mom?”
“I’m here,” Lakansu came back promptly. “And yes, they’re putting down on the northern edge.”
Lakphro nodded. Up where the hill was flattest. At least the pilot had sense enough not to put down on any of the grazing land. “I’m heading up there now,” he said, picking up his pace. “A family skycar came with them. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
“I just hope it’s not a confiscation,” Lakansu said, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “If this is another blight epidemic, the whole district could be in trouble.”
“Yeah,” Lakphro said, wincing. And a ship that size could hold a lot of confiscated yubals.
But if this was another disease scare, why bring in a ship designed for space? Quarantining or slaughtering infected animals could be done right here on Celwis.
For that matter, where had a ship like that come from in the first place? The design and markings weren’t like anything Lakphro had ever seen. Certainly it wasn’t from the family or any of the local merchants.
“Well, if it is, they damn well better be ready to prove that our herd has it,” Lakphro continued firmly. A woman had emerged from the skycar now and was walking toward him. “Okay, there she is. Looks like a Councilor’s Office shoulder band. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“All right,” Lakansu said. “Just watch your temper.”
“Who, me?” Lakphro said as innocently as he could manage. “I’ll be back on in a minute.”
He keyed off the comm, knowing whoever that woman was would probably tell him to do so anyway. Official types never liked their conversations with private citizens to be overheard by other private citizens.
And as the two of them closed the gap, he was finally able to make out her face.
It was Senior Aide Lakjiip, head flunky for Councilor Lakuviv.
Great.
“Good day,” Lakjiip called as they reached conversation distance. “Are you Rancher Lakphro?”
Lakphro’s first impulse was to ask who else she thought would be walking around his ranch with a yubal lurestick sheathed at his hip. But he resisted the temptation. “I am he,” he said instead.
“Excellent,” she said. “My name is—”
“You’re Lakjiip,” Lakphro said. “Senior aide to Councilor Lakuviv. Everyone in the district knows about you.”
“Ah,” Lakjiip said, giving him a pleased and slightly embarrassed smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course, everyone in the district also knows about hoof fungus,” Lakphro continued. “And if you’re serving another random confiscation notice, you’d better have solid evidence that my livestock are diseased.”
Lakjiip’s smile, which had gone frosty at the hoof-fungus comment, disappeared completely. “You misunderstand, Rancher,” she said coldly. “I’m not picking up. I’m delivering.”
Lakphro flicked a glance over her shoulder at the big ship. Two beings had appeared through the front hatch: one a young Chiss, the other an alien of a type he’d never seen before. “What do you mean, delivering? Delivering what?”
“Not what,” Lakjiip corrected, a layer of refined malice in her tone. She really hadn’t liked that hoof-fungus comment. “Who. That alien on his way over here is Haplif. He and his people are going to take up residence on your ranch for a few months.”
Lakphro felt his mouth drop open. “They’re what? No—you can’t do that. You can’t just take land from family ownership without compensation—”
“Oh, stop it,” Lakjiip said scornfully. “We’re not taking it, just borrowing it for a few months. Besides, that scrub land up on the hill? Worthless.”
Lakphro took a deep breath, working hard to hold on to his temper like Lakansu had told him. “That’s extra grazing land for my yubals,” he said. “Just because it won’t grow crops doesn’t mean it’s worthless.”
“Maybe not crops, but it will grow spices,” Lakjiip said. “Or so our Agbui guests claim. I’m sorry; your Agbui guests.”