Part 67 (2/2)
”Well . . . from where we were, that gives the longest stretch in FTL. Time enough for Ollery to figure out what to do with you and how. Perhaps it was that. Or maybe they had a ch.o.r.e for him in Seti s.p.a.ce, in addition to scragging you.”
”So, you're saying that we have to go where we're going before we can go anywhere else?”
”If you want to be sure of getting anywhere anytime soon,” Panis said. ”We've been in undefined s.p.a.ce- FTL mode-for a long time, and if we drop out before the node, I have no idea where we might end up. We do have the extra supplies that the crew would have needed, but...”
”All right. On to Seti s.p.a.ce. I suppose I could find something to do there, in the way of digging up dirt, although what we have already is more than enough.” Dupaynil stretched. ”But you do realize that while the personnel listed as on duty with the emba.s.sy to the Sek are no* on Ollery's list of helpers, this means nothing.
169.
They could be part of the same conspiracy without Ollery having any knowledge of it.”
The outer beacon to the Seti systems had all the courteous tact of a boot in the face.
”Intruders be warned!” it bleated in a cycle of all the languages known in FSP. ”Intruders not tolerated. Intruders will be destroyed, if not properly naming selves immediately.”
Panis set Claw's transmitter to the correct setting and initiated the standard Fleet recognition sequence. He was recovering nicely, Dupaynil thought, from the shock of his original captain's treachery and the necessity of helping in a mutiny. He did not blurt out everything to the Fleet officer who was military attache at the emba.s.sy nor did he request an immediate conference with die Amba.s.sador. Instead, he simply reported that he had an officer with urgent orders insystem and let Dupaynil handle it from there.
”I'm not sure I understand, Commander Dupaynil, just what your purpose here is.”
That diplomatic smoothness had once seemed innocuous. Now, he could not be sure if it was habit or conspiracy.
”My orders,” Dupaynil said, keeping his own tone as light and unconcerned as the other's, ”are to check the s.h.i.+pping records of the main Seti commercial firms involved in trade with Sector Eighteen human worlds. You know how this works. I haven't the foggiest notion what someone is looking at, or for, or why they couldn't do this long distance.”
”It has nothing to do with that Iretan mess?”
Again, it might be only ordinary curiosity. Or something much more dangerous. Dupaynil shrugged, ran his finger along the bridge of his nose and hoped he pa.s.sed for a dandified Bretagnan.
”It might, I suppose. Or it might not. How would I know? There I was happily ensconced on one of the better-run cruisers in Fleet, with a woman commander of considerable personal ah ... charm . . .”He made it 170.
definitely singular, but with a tonal implication that the plural would have been more natural, and decided that a knowing wink would overdo his act. ”I would have been quite satisfied to finish the cruise with her . . . her s.h.i.+p.” He shrugged again, and gave a deep sigh. ”And then I find myself s.h.i.+pped out here, just because I have had contact with the Seti before, without arousing an incident, I suppose, to spend days making carefully polite inquiries to which they will make carefully impolite replies. That is all I know, except that if I had an enemy at headquarters, he could hardly have changed my plans in a way I would like less.”
That came out with a touch more force than he'd intended, but it seemed to convince the fellow that he was sincere. The man's face did not change but he could feel a subtle lessening of tension.
”Well. I suppose I can introduce you to the Seti Commissioner of Commerce. That's a cabinet level position in the Sek's court. It'll know where else you should go.”
”That would be very kind of you,” said Dupaynil. He never minded handing out meaningless courtesies to lubricate the daily work.
”Not at all,” the other said, already looking down at the pile of work on his desk. ”The Commissioner's a bigot of the worst sort, even for a Seti. If this is a plot of your worst enemy at headquarters, he's planning to make you suffer.”
The conventions of Seti interaction with other races had been designed to place the inferior of the universe securely and obviously in that inferior position and keep them there. To Seti, the inferior of the universe included those who tampered with ”Holy Luck” by medical means (especially including genetic engineering), and those too cowardly (as they put it) to gamble. Humans were known to practice genetic engineering. Many of them changed their features for mere fas.h.i.+on- the Seti view of makeup and hair styling. Very few wished to gamble, as Seti did, by entering a room through the Door of Honor which might, or might not,
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drop a guillotine on those who pa.s.sed through it ... depending on a computer's random number generator.
Dupaynil did not enjoy his crawl through the Tunnel of Cowardly Certainty but he had known what to expect. Seated awkwardly on the hard mushroom shaped stool allowed the unG.o.dly foreigner, he kept his eyes politely lowered as the Commissioner of Commerce continued its midmoraing snack. He didn't want to watch anyway. On their own worlds, the Seti ignored FSP prohibitions and dined freely on such abominations as those now writhing in the Commissioner's bowl. The Commissioner gave a final crunch and burp, exhaled a gust of rank breath, and leaned comfortably against its cus.h.i.+oned couch.
”Ahhh. And now, Misss-ter Du-paay-nil. You wish to ask a favor of the Seti?”
”With all due respect to the honor of the Sek and the eggbearers,” and Dupaynil continued with a memorized string of formalities before coming to the point. ”And, if it please the Commissioner, merely to place the gaze of the eye upon the trade records pertaining to die human worlds in Sector Eighteen.”
Another long blast of smelly breath; the Commissioner yawned extravagantly, showing teeth that desperately needed cleaning, although Dupyanil didn't know if the Seti ever got decay or gum disease.
”Ssector Eighteen,” it said and slapped its tail heavily on the floor.
A Seti servant scuttled in bearing a tray piled with data cubes. Dupaynil wondered if die Door of Honor ignored servants or if they, too, had to take their chances with death. The servant withdrew, and the Commissioner ran its tongue lightly over the cubes. Dupaynil stared, then realized they must be labelled with chemcodes that the Commissioner could taste. It plucked one of the cubes from the pile, and inserted it into a player.
”Ahl What the /umum-dominated Fleet calls Sector Eighteen, the Flower of Luck in Disguise. Trade with human worlds? It is meager, not worth your time.”
”Ill.u.s.trious and most fortunate scion of a fortunate 172.
family,” Dupaynil said, ”it is my unlucky fate to be at the mercy of admirals.”
This amused the Commissioner who laughed immoderately.
”Sso! It is a matter of luck, you would have me think? Unlucky in rank, unlucky in the admiral who sent you? But you do not believe in luck, so your people say. You believe in ... What is that obscenity? Probabilities? Statistics?”
The old saying about ”lies, d.a.m.n lies, and statistics” popped into Dupaynil's mind, but it seemed the wrong moment. Instead, he said ”Of others I cannot speak, but / believe in luck. I would not have arrived without it”
He did, indeed, believe in luck. At least at the moment. For without his unwise tapping of Sa.s.sinak's com shack, he would not have had the chance to find the evidence he had found. Now, if he could just get through with this and back to FedCentral in time for Tanegli's trial . . . That would be luck indeed! Apparently even temporary sincerity was convincing. The Seti Commissioner gave him a toothy grin.
”Well. A partial convert. You know what we say about your statistics, don't you? There are lies, d.a.m.n lies, and ...”
And I'm glad I didn't use that joke, Dupaynil thought to himself, since I don't believe this guy thinks that it is one.
”I will save your eyes the trouble of examining our faultless, but copious, records regarding trade with the Flower of Luck in Disguise. If you were unlucky in your admiral, you shall be lucky in my support. Your clear unwillingness to struggle with this unlucky task shall be rewarded. I refuse permission to examine our records, not because we have anything to conceal, but because this is the Season of Unrepentance, when no such examination is lawful. You are fortunate in my approval for I will give you such refusal as will satisfy the most unlucky admiral.”
Again, a ma.s.sive tail-slap, combined with a querulous squealing grunt, and the servitor scuttled in with a
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