Part 2 (1/2)

The official nodded primly. ”Thank you.”

Grimly, Dana said, ”If your inspectors damage my s.h.i.+p, I'll personally wring your neck.”

The official sniffed. He then inserted a second disc and punched out a code which registered the Port's guarantee that the inspection would be orderly and nothing on _Zipper_ would be disturbed. h.e.l.l, Dana thought, this is silly. No one smuggles drugs to Chabad this way. Besides, if the Chabadese ever decide to uphold Section D, Article 49307 of the Federation Code, the economy of the whole d.a.m.n planet'll fall apart.

”Are you finished?” he said. ”May I go?”

The official said coldly, ”LandingPort Station takes responsibility for the safety of your s.h.i.+p until released by you, except in cases of uncontrollable accident, malice, fraud, insurrection, or act of G.o.d. Directions within Port are available from any Port employee and from the wall panels. Corridors are color- coded; please follow the arrows and do not pa.s.s beyond designated points. The blue stripe will lead you to the shuttles.h.i.+p loading port.”

”Thanks,” said Dana. He thought, His mother probably runs dorazine on the side.

”You're welcome. Enjoy your stay on Chabad.”

”Up yours, too.”

Glaring, the man slapped the wall plate, releasing the door lock. Dana smiled at him. At the corridor's end he turned right, following the pathway traced by the blue stripe.

The Yago Net arrived at Chabad's moon on time.

In Abanat the clocks were striking five. Zed Yago stood by a pilot's vision screen, looking -- his eyes said _down_ but his training said: _No, not down_ -- at his planet, itself in phase relative to the position of its moon, a white and blue and orange quarter. Abanat lay in shadow. If it were daylight, he would even now be talking with Rhani. In the corridors he heard voices, orders, the shuffle of feet. The transport of nearly four thousand slaves from the Net to the Barracks in Abanat, by shuttles.h.i.+p, had begun. It would take five days.

At the end of those days, he and Jo and Genji Kiyohara, the chief pilot, would leave the Net, and a cleaning crew would board her. Zed disliked these days of transition; the functions of Port, the arrival of the tourists, had long ceased to interest him. He wanted to get home.

He gazed at the bright, thick crescent of his world, irritatedly willing it to turn.

”Zed-ka.” Jo had come up behind him. Of all the Net crew, she alone called him by his first name. To everyone he was ”Commander;” to the other medics he was ”Senior Yago.” She had been his second for nine years, as long as he had been the Net's commander.

”Yes.”

”There is a direct-line call for the commander of the Yago Net from a police officer by the name of Michel A-Rae.”

”The -- ” Jo was nodding.

”The very same.”

Zed scowled. Every five years or so the Federation gave the job of head of drug control to someone else. This was the latest holder of the job. ”What does he want?”

”I don't know,” Jo said.

Zed stepped to the com-unit, touching a b.u.t.ton to blank the distracting vision screen. He tried to recall what he knew of the man, but came up with nothing except the memory of a blurred image from a PIN transmission. None of A- Rae's predecessors had ever called the Net. ”I'll take it.”

Maybe, he thought, A-Rae was about to tell him where all the dorazine had gone. The compscreen image cleared. Zed felt Jo move to gaze over his shoulder.

There was a soft whisper through the room as the pilots heard what was going on.

Zed said to the image, ”I'm Zed Yago, Net commander.”

The man on the screen said, ”I'm Michel A-Rae.”

Zed thought, I know that voice. He replayed the sentence in his mind -- but nothing about it stood out, and even as he struggled to identify it, it lost its familiarity. A-Rae's face was unremarkable: he had the smooth brown complexion common to many Enchanteans. From the minute transmission lag, Zed knew his s.h.i.+p had to be quite close by. ”Did you want to tell me something?” he said.

”Not precisely,” A-Rae said. He stepped back, so that Zed saw him en- framed. His uniform was plain, black without trim, and he wore the silver insignia of his rank on his chest. Behind him shadows moved, his s.h.i.+p's crew and staff hovering at his elbows as Jo loomed at Zed's, not in focus and barely seen. ”You do know who I am.”

Does he think me a fool? Zed thought. ”You are head of the drug detail of the police arm of the Federation of Living Worlds,” he said.

A-Rae tucked his hands into his black hide belt. ”With jurisdiction over all inter-sector transport and sale of prohibited drugs in the galaxy.”

Zed said, ”The Yago Net respects the directive of the Federation. The Yago Net transports dorazine to the prisons of Sector Sardonyx, and nowhere else.” By now he was sure he did not know A-Rae. Beside him, Jo was scowling.

”I know that, Commander,” A-Rae said. ”But let's not play with each other, if you please. Family Yago does not produce dorazine on Chabad, or even elsewhere in the sector. The Yago Net obtains dorazine from its dealers, and they from runners, and the runners get it from The Pharmacy, being thus linked in a vicious and illegal chain.” His voice acquired a fanatic's ring. ”As you must be aware, my people are watching the s.p.a.celanes for known runners. I persuaded the Federation to increase my staff, and it has done so. We intend to break that chain, Commander. I doubt that those who profit off such evils as drugs and slaves will be able to stop us.”

Zed said, ”I think you mean me. I appreciate the warning, I a.s.sure you.

But why give it? I'm not frightened by threats.”

”I know that,” said the man in black. ”I know a lot about you, about Family Yago, and about Chabad. You must know I am an Enchantean. No, Commander, I didn't expect to scare you. I just wanted to meet an enemy.” The screen grayed.

”He has a taste for melodrama,” Zed said. The man's afterimage lingered in his mind for a moment. ”That _was_ interesting.” He had a flair. It was unfortunate that he had been able to sway the Federation to his way of thinking.

This explained where all the runners had gone: A-Rae's people in their fast little s.h.i.+ps had scared them away. He could tell Rhani that, thought she would not be pleased.

In a few hours it would be dawn on Chabad. He could call her then.

Again, Jo said, ”Zed-ka.”

”Yes, Jo.” The last few days on the Net tended to be full of trivia, all of which seemed to demand his personal intervention.

”It has been brought to my attention by an inspector here: a type-MPL stars.h.i.+p just landed in Port, owned and piloted by one Starcaptain Dana Ikoro.

Records show that Ikoro is a drug runner who usually works Sector Cinnabar, running comine, tabac, and Verdian nightshade. He bought shuttles.h.i.+p pa.s.sage to Abanat; claims he's a tourist. His s.h.i.+p contains an empty dorazine cooler.”

”How odd.” Occasionally, dorazine addicts in other sectors (of which there were a wealthy few) sent runners to Abanat to buy one load of dorazine.

But if A-Rae's people were picking up the runners, surely a smuggler would know that there wasn't any dorazine for sale or even theft....”Jo?” He swung around.

”Did you view that microfiche before you gave it to me?”

”Yes, Zed-ka.”

”It said 'F-Y-E-O.'”

Jo shrugged.

Zed shook his head at her. ”I could order you not to do that again, I suppose, but I know you won't obey me. Talk to that Starcaptain. I can't believe he's just a tourist. Find out what he's doing. He's an anomaly. I don't like anomalies.”

”Clear, Zed-ka.” ”And feed the conversation through to my room. I want to hear it.”

Jo inclined her grizzled head. Zed stepped away from the bank of vision screens, returning them once more to the pilots.

The Net made Dana Ikoro claustrophobic.