Jeff nodded. “Yeah, but now we really have to decide-”
Clements laughed. “What’s the problem, laddie? Afraid to admit you’re just another sailor feeding bushwa to his girl? Hell, I knew you were never going to resign.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jeff said. “But damn it, this girl’s different-”
“Sure. They all are,” Clements said. He drained his coffee. “My screen’s not like yours, but it’s full enough. Best get at it.”
“Yeah.” Jefferson turned back to his work. More reports. Mining and refining capabilities. Steam generation facilities. All important, he knew, but-
If I give up the Navy, this’ll be my career, he thought. God Almighty, how could anyone spend his entire life at this? Better a naval battle. Better a long, dull patrol. Better almost anything!
The days passed, and Jeff was no further ahead. As soon as he finished one task they’d give him another. He had five locals gathering data, and they brought it in faster than he could code it into the machines.
Twice he’d sent memos to the High Commissioner’s office explaining the desirability of hiring and training locals for elementary clerical work of this type. It wouldn’t harm this planet for some of its people to learn how to produce machine-readable data. He’d had no answer.
Which, he thought philosophically, is better than a definite “No.”
And Elaine was — strange. They’d patched up their quarrel. He didn’t tell her how soon he’d have to make a decision, and she didn’t bring up the subject. She did encourage him in his work, and seemed interested in what he was doing. She hadn’t cared before, but now of a sudden she encouraged him to talk about his work, as if—
“Landing boat’s on final approach now, Lieutenant.”
“Ah. Thanks, Hawley.” He went out onto the pier to wait. In moments he heard a growing thunder and the sharp clap of a sonic boom. He shaded his eyes to stare out over the water and made out a small speck just at the horizon. It was coming directly toward him, angling in a long glide path toward the water.
“There it is!” Someone shouted from behind him. Jeff grimaced. There were a thousand civilians out there, all eager to see the locals who’d been off-planet. They weren’t allowed on the pier itself, but they were close enough. A lot of them were shouting now.
The landing boat settled onto the water. Jeff nodded approval. It was a smooth landing. Two small local steam tugs went out to tow it to the pier. They’d be a while doing that. Jeff wondered whose idea it was. The landing boats were hard to maneuver, but they weren’t so difficult to handle as to need local assistance. Some boondoggle to employ locals? Maybe the local harbormaster was worried about the big landing craft losing control and smashing up the docks. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited.
Finally the craft was alongside and the gangway lowered. Three naval officers got off first. Junior lieutenants, very young. Just up from middie, Jefferson thought. Proud as peacocks. He remembered when he’d sewn that stripe on his sleeve. It had been a good feeling.
They looked around uncertainly and Jeff went over to them. Although they were nominally the same rank as Jeff, two of the newcomers saluted him. Jeff grinned. “Assigned here?” he asked.
“Yes, si— Yes, thank you. Were you sent to meet us?”
Jeff laughed. “Hardly. But wait around and I’ll see you get to headquarters. Know anything of what you’re supposed to do?”
“Not really,” the spokesman said. “What’s this place like?”
“Takes a bit of getting used to, but not bad,” Jeff said. “Oops, excuse me, that’s my crew.” He left them and went to the gangway.
The group getting off had to be native to Prince Samual’s World. Jeff wasn’t sure how he knew that, but they had the look about them. They were led by a tall, broad-shouldered man with straw-colored hair going away to steel gray. Distinguished, Jefferson thought. The files said Trader, but that man had obviously been a soldier.
He examined the others. The girl was all right, but no raving beauty; there were plenty of prettier ones in Haven. She looked self-possessed, though, more poised than Elaine, and that made her attractive. There wasn’t much to notice about the others.
“Trader MacKinnie?” he said to the leader.
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. A word that man doesn’t mean. Not to me. “I’m Lieutenant Jefferson, sir. I’ve been assigned to conduct your landing interviews and inspection.”
“Will this take long?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Jefferson said. “Just formalities. Shall we go inside?” He led the way into the building to the interview room and ushered MacKinnie inside. “Have a seat, please.” He turned on his recorder and put his pocket computer on the desk. “Here, I’ve got your records on here somewhere — ah. ‘Jameson MacKinnie, Trader, citizen of Haven. Expedition leader.’ Successful trip?”
MacKinnie shrugged. “Moderately. I expect the cargo we brought will cover the expedition costs, but there won’t be a lot of profit.”
Jefferson nodded. “I don’t recall seeing much there I’d want to buy, “he said. “Where did you go on Makassar?”
“Well, we landed at the Navy base at Jikar and went from there,” MacKinnie said.
Man’s nervous, Jefferson thought. Is there a special reason? Or does he just dislike Imperial officers? “The report from the Makassar garrison says you went to Batav.”
MacKinnie nodded.
“I was there once. Did you see the temple?”
“Certainly. Most prominent building on the whole planet.”
“It is, isn’t it? Get inside?”
“Not beyond the courtyard,” MacKinnie answered. “It’s a holy place, and the unconsecrated don’t get into the inner buildings.”
Jefferson grinned to himself. “Right.” It had been that way when Jefferson visited. Of course other Navy people had been inside, all the way to the crypt where they kept the remains of the old library. What might this chap have done if he’d known what was in there? Or did he? “Why is the place holy?” Jefferson asked. “I didn’t stay long enough to find out.”
“Relics, they say,” MacKinnie answered. “The building’s very old. We ran into a party of Imperial missionaries in Batav, and they said something about stuff left over from the First Empire.”
Jefferson glanced down at his computer. There it was. A note from the commander at Jikar. ‘Archbishop Casteliano found this group helpful and sent a note of commendation.’ So. They had friends in the Church. Might as well get this over with. “Any injuries or diseases?” he asked. “And I’ll need your cargo manifests. …”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HOMECOMING
When MacKinnie saw Lieutenant Jefferson waiting for him at the gangway his first reaction was panic. Somehow they must have found out…
But the only armed Marines in evidence were a pair of sentries looking very bored, and there was no evidence of suspicion at all. Jefferson acted as if he’d never seen MacKinnie before. Given his condition the only time they’d been in the same room together that was hardly a surprise. And his greeting was polite. Everything seemed routine.
For all that, it was unnerving. Nathan followed the Imperial officer into the stone warehouse the Imperials had converted into their customs office, and tried to act relaxed about the interview. It seemed to go well enough, and Jefferson’s interest in the Temple was natural. The real test would come when they inspected the cargo. The carefully copied library records were concealed inside handcrafted statuary. It wouldn’t take a lot of ingenuity to find them, but Nathan could think of no other place to conceal them. He’d almost left them behind, but Kleinst had said he couldn’t rely on his memory, and that left few choices.
MacKinnie found he needn’t have worried. The cargo inspection was cursory. Jefferson had a couple of the crates opened, but mostly seemed curious to see what they’d brought.