Part 3 (1/2)
”Mmmm, yes,” Kelexel said. ”My offspring, however, requires constant diversion. I'm prepared to pay a very high price for the privilege of placing him with your organization until my contract of responsibility terminates.”
Kelexel sat back, waiting. ”He will be suspicious of you, naturally,” the Bureau's experts had said. ”He will think you seek to place a spy among his crewmen. Be alert to his inner reactions when you make your offer.”
Watching now, Kelexel saw the Director's disquiet. Is he fearful? Kelexel wondered. He shouldn't be fearful -- not yet.
”It saddens me,” Fraffin said, ”But no matter the offer, I must refuse.”
Kelexel pursed his lips, then: ”Would you refuse . . .” And he named a price that astonished Fraffin.
That's half as much as I could get for my entire planetary holding, Fraffin thought. Is it possible Ynvic's wrong about him? This couldn't be an attempt to put a spy among us. All our crewmen are bound to the compact of shared guilt. No new man can learn what we do until he's hopelessly compromised. And the Bureau wouldn't try to buy one of us. They don't dare give me grounds for pleading entrapment.
”Is it not enough?” Kelexel asked. He stroked his chin. The Bureau's experts had said: ”You must act the part of a responsible citizen concerned over his parental contract, perhaps even a bit doting and slightly embarra.s.sed by it.”
”It, uhh, grieves me,” Fraffin said, ”but there's no price I'll accept. Were I to lower the barriers to one rich man's offspring, my s.h.i.+p soon would become a haven for dilettantes. We're a working crew, chosen only for talent. If your offspring wishes to train for a post, however, and go through the normal channels . . .”
”Not even if I doubled the offer?” Kelexel asked.
Is it really the Bureau behind this clown? Fraffin wondered. Or could he be one of the Galaxy Buyers?
Fraffin cleared his throat. ”No price. I am sorry.”
”Perhaps I've offended you?”
”No. It's just that my decision is dictated by self-preservation. Work is our answer to the Chem nemesis . . .”
”Ahh, boredom,” Kelexel murmured.
”Precisely,” Fraffin said. ”Were I to open the doors to any bored person with enough wealth, I'd multiply all our problems. Just today I dismissed four crewmen for actions that'd be commonplace were I to hire my people the way you suggest.”
”Four dismissed?” Kelexel said. ”Lords of Preservation! What'd they do?”
”Deliberately lowered their s.h.i.+elds, let the natives see them. Enough of that happens by accident without compounding it.”
How honest and law abiding he tries to appear, Kelexel thought. But the core of his crew has been with him too long, and those who leave -- even the ones he dismisses -- won't talk. Something's at work here which can't be explained by legality.
”Yes, yes, of course,” Kelexel said, a.s.suming a slightly pompous air. ”Can't have fraternizing with the natives out there.” He gestured toward the surface with a thumb. ”Illegal, naturally. d.a.m.nably dangerous.”
”Raises the immunity level,” Fraffin said.
”Must keep your execution squads busy.”
Fraffin allowed himself a touch of pride, said: ”I've had to send them after fewer than a million immunes on my planet. I let the natives kill their own.”
”Only way,” Kelexel agreed. ”Keep us out of it as much as possible. Cla.s.sic technique. You're justly famous for your success at it. Wanted my son to learn under you.”
”I'm sorry,” Fraffin said.
”Answer's definitely no?”
”Definitely.”