Rip chewed his lip, thinking swiftly. "I think we’d better go in separately as well," he said. "We don’t know who talks to who in there, but you’re probably right about those locutors and facilitators, Dr. Cofort. We’d better assume that there’s plenty of communication behind the scenes."
"Tooe," Rael said, "you speak good Kanddoyd, don’t you?"
"Speak perfect, me," Tooe said, slapping her scrawny front.
"Then you can assure all the locutors and other functionaries that we are merely on a sightseeing tour," Rael said. "But—do you know where the communications office is?"
"Yes," Tooe said, her pupils narrowing to vertical slits. "Many, many times Tooe is in Trade place, listen, learn, watch. They do not see Tooe, but Tooe see everything."
"After three visits," Rip said, "I’ve got the place mapped in my head.
We can detour the help and make our way there by a circuitous route."
"Then let’s set a time to meet outside the com office."
Dana said. "Fifteen minutes from entry. Agreed?"
Everyone nodded, and just then the pod slid to a halt outside their stop.
Rip rather enjoyed the next fifteen minutes. Each functionary they met they exchanged compliments with, never giving a hint of their business. Rip exerted himself to outtalk the Kanddoyd talkers, praising every bush, flower, and mosaic they passed. He even stopped once and praised the sight of the elevators moving slowly along the cylinders. The Kanddoyds seemed to be impressed with his wonderful manners.
When it came time to state their business, Dane assured their would-be facilitators that they were there to check the latest monetary exchange rates, but first they just wanted to walk along and chat with other Terrans. Three of the functionaries who accosted them seemed to accept this and went on their way; one also appeared to accept it, but this one’s ultrasonic noises tweaked at Rip’s nerves and made Dane’s ring-brooch glow a telltale blue.
Both men pretended not to notice anything amiss. When the Kanddoyd had retreated, Dane murmured, "Glad our time is up. That one is off to blab, or I’m a Cytherian raptor-slug."
"I don’t think you need to grow fangs and start crawling through slime yet," Rip muttered out of the side of his mouth. "I think I just saw our friend duck into the elevator leading to the registry department."
"Warning Koytatik?" Dane suggested. "Interesting thought."
They arrived outside the communications office. Tooe and Rael were just inside; as soon as the Rigelian saw the two Queen's men, she grinned as she pulled a flat case from inside her shabby, loose clothing.
Looking swiftly to see that no one watched, she opened it and divided its contents with Rael Cofort, who accepted her portion into cupped hands.
As Rip and Dane watched from just beyond the doorway, Tooe went to the customer keyboards farthest from the Golm Jheel’s counter, and carefully opened her hands. Then she stepped back and shrieked on a high note.
Business stopped. Tooe pointed and yelled, "Spiders!"
Just then Rael Cofort, who had sidled up to the Jheel’s counter while he—and everyone else—was looking in the other direction, opened her hands, and Rip saw tiny black specks scuttle over the counter. Cofort backed hastily and stared up at one of the signs as though her thoughts were parsees away.
The Jheel turned back to his computer, reached to close it down, then jumped back. He let out a bellow, and a second later there was a stampede of hooming, growling Shver heading for the closest doors.
As the Shver exited, the other customers all started yelling at one another, demanding help, demanding answers, demanding someone find out if the spiders were poisonous. Two people started stomping the ground, and one humanoid scratched at his body through his flight suit, as though something were crawling on his skin. The sight of him sent several more people into a panic.
"Now," Dane said.
Trying desperately to muffle his laughter, Rip followed Dane in and did his best to guard the counter from view as Dane reached over with his long arm and dropped Nunku’s chip into a slot on the Jheel’s computer, which was still online. He tabbed the ACCEPT, waited for the download light to blink, then he hit the EJECT, grabbed the chip, and backed away.
Rip backed in the other direction, making his way through the noisy crowd for the door.
He dove through a moment after Dane, and they saw Rael and Tooe just passing across a little bridge toward one of the exits.
Rip managed to hold in his laughter until they reached the concourse, but when he saw Cofort gripping the rail above a thousand-foot drop, her hands clutching weakly and her body convulsed in mirth, he gave way.
The four of them stood there for a time, whooping until they had completely lost their breath.
Finally, exhausted, Cofort said, "Well done—all four of us. Now let’s go tell the captain that we’re in the battle."
15
" We’re just about out of funds," Frank Mura said, coming into the galley mess. "Another day and we’ll be dipping into the red."
Dane Thorson, sitting with Jasper and Rip in the corner, exchanged glances with his compatriots. Ali had said once, "When Frank’s upset he hides his hands behind his back." Frank stood in the hatchway, firmly anchored by his mag-boots, his countenance stolidly blank as ever, but neither hand was visible.
He wants us to leave Exchange.
Dane felt the thought impact his brain as if someone had spoken out loud. They were all three thinking the same thing, he knew.
"Can they cut off life support?" Mura went on.
Steen Wilcox shook his head. "No, they can’t—unless they want to risk breach of contract, and then our debt is nulled. The account is payable when we officially notify them of our blast time and they relinquish life support over to us."
Johan Stotz, who was sitting with a pocket comp next to his food, looked up and said, "But if we can’t pay our shot, then we get impounded before we can fire up the jets. Look, Chief, didn’t Ross tell you that the head of the trilateral Trade office, this Flindyk, is by-the-books, straight-beam honest? If so, why don’t we just go lay this in his lap?"
"Is Ross honest?" Wilcox countered.
"Good question," Kosti growled.
"I’ve yet to hear of any Patrol rankers being corrupt," Jellico said from his place between the jet man and the astrogator, "but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. As for Flindyk, I’ve tried three times to get an appointment with him, but his flunkies fall all over themselves relating how sorry they are to report his unending series of crises that prevent my getting on the schedule. As for Ross, he may not be corrupt, but I think he’s worthless."
Rael Cofort glanced up from her seat near the galley. Tau was taking his turn on the Starvenger, so she kept busy with a pocket comp as she ran through lab statistics. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, "I’ve only seen him twice, and that for a short time, but he didn’t seem the corrupt type. And believe me, I’ve encountered plenty of those. He was more. detached."
" ’Detached’ is a fine way of putting it," Van Ryke said, his mellow voice contemplative. "It seems odd for a Patrol type to stay so silent. I’d thought we’d get a warning after Karl’s and Ali’s little encounters, if nothing else."
Jellico laid his hand flat on the table. "We’ll go to Administrator of Trade Executed in Perfect Harmony Flindyk— and Captain-Legate
Ross—and demand a hearing when we have concrete proof. Until we know otherwise, we’ll assume that they are honest, and that the trouble is unknown to them. A few enterprising underlings hiding their activities from their authorities."