He had been reviewing applicants for the positions left open by the defection of the highly paid and supposedly loyal assistants that he had brought with him on the disastrous Petaybee investigation. Those who had survived the initial stages of security clearance were awaiting him in his office. He was going to start afresh on the many tasks awaiting a man of his reputation and abilities. He could look ahead now, for bigger and better things.
A gaggle of people coming from the passenger lounge were advancing on him in a solid phalanx, leaving no space for anyone to pass. Frowning, he gestured with his right hand for them to clear to the side to allow him to pass. But then he saw the reason for such a mass: an invalid vehicle, one of the newest types, was in the midst of the people, its occupant turning from left to right as he issued a stream of orders which were being recorded. To Matthew's intense surprise, the man in the chair was none other than Farringer Ball, Secretary General of Intergaclass="underline" the one man he cared less about seeing than any other in the galaxy; the very one whose intransigence had resulted in the wretched planet being adjudged'sentient' and autonomous, ruining all Luzon's careful plans for its future.
‘Why, Farringer,' Luzon said in his heartiest voice, tingeing it with concern and sympathy for the invalid's condition, 'whatever has happened to you?’
‘Luzon?' Farringer's voice was a wispy croak and Luzon was genuinely shocked at the man's condition. The chair obviously contained life-support devices, for Luzon was now close enough to see the ubiquitous tubes attached to the man at one end and the machine under the seat of the chair on the other. 'Recovered from your injury?’
‘Indeed, and I could wish you the same good fortune. Whatever has reduced you to this sorry state?' Not that Luzon wasn't delighted to see that Justice was being served in Ball's case.
‘On your way to Petaybee, are you? For one of their miracle cures?' Luzon smiled graciously, twisting the knife of his words into Ball's wizened carcase.
‘To Petaybee?' Farringer Ball's wheeze went up an octave and he stared at Luzon in surprise. 'Why should I go there, of all places?’
‘Why, hadn't you heard? Since the board so nobly decided that Intergal should withdraw and allow Terra-form B its autonomy, every drug company in the galaxy is trying to sign up the exclusive rights to the therapeutic treatments available only there.' Partially true, of course, since representatives were on the planet, although, according to Luzon's informants, none of them had reported back to their head offices, or anywhere, on the results of their missions.
‘What therapeutic treatments?' Ball snapped and half of the crowd around him looked expectantly at Luzon for the answer.
Luzon then realized that medics of one kind or another made up most of the groupies around the Secretary General.
‘Why, I thought you'd have heard. You always know what's going on in the medical field,' and Luzon could afford to be slightly condescending: poor health was Ball's true reward. 'There is something about the pure air and organically grown food products on Petaybee, not to mention the ambience, that absolutely changes a man!’
‘It does?' Ball wheezed. 'How?' He peered suspiciously up at the obviously robustly healthy Luzon. 'You only broke your legs…' His tone implied that that didn't take much healing.
‘True,' and Luzon leaned down conspiratorially. 'But then I didn't need the special sort of healing that only Petaybee provides. We really shouldn't have let the planet out of our control, you know. You'd be glowing with health again if you'd taken the cure there.’
‘Taken the cure? What cure?’
‘Now that I don't know in any particulars, I'm afraid,' Luzon replied, knowing that he had Ball just where he wanted him. 'Of course, now that Intergal no longer has any rights on the planet, its administrators… if you can call such novices by that term,' and he permitted a belittling sneer in his voice, 'are of course setting up a monopoly on the surface. I really feel that one cannot put a price on such natural benefits and one certainly shouldn't restrict those who are chosen to receive the cure to such a narrow category…’
‘What category? What monopoly? What natural benefits?' Ball's agitation made his wheeze worse and he started coughing, a dry, hard rasping sound despite the fact that he was also spraying spit around him.
Luzon moved a discreet step to one side. 'Well, I'm no longer au courant with the latest developments, but they have been amazing. Truly amazing. I wonder that none of your medical advisers have suggested the Petaybean Cure to you. It'd make a new man of you, I'm sure.' From the avid expression in Ball's eyes, Luzon knew that his little spiel had had the desired effect. 'Do hope you're feeling better real soon, Farrie. Nice to have seen you. Must rush.’
As soon as he had left the gaggle behind him, Luzon indulged in a smugly satisfied chuckle. The transport business he had backed to get as many people to Petaybee's surface as possible may have come to a crashing halt, but there were other ways of overloading the planet and proving that it could not take care of itself and/or its inhabitants, much less any visitors. CIS would have to step in and alter the current arrangement. Planets could not, should not, go about managing themselves, not in a well-organized inter-galactic civilization. Citizens of the galaxy had the right to pursue commercial ventures whenever these were possible. Citizens were also guaranteed certain basic rights and Petaybee jeopardized these by its very existence.
And then there was the matter of Marmion de Revers Algemeine. Luzon had heard nothing on the news media about the kidnapping. 'Nothing' on that situation was the best news he could possibly imagine. That took care of her: permanently. When was it he and Torkel Fiske were to meet? He tapped up his engagements on his wristpad. Ah, this evening. Very good. They had a lot to talk about. Petaybee might not be a lost world after all.
21
Muktuk and Chumia had been home ten days when Sinead arrived on skis. As she was delivering her message while wrapped in warm blankets and sipping from the hot tea Chumia brewed for her, one of the men on sea-watch reported that a very funny-looking seal had just beached itself off the ice-pack.
‘Sean!' Sinead cried, and threw off her blankets, pulled on her still snow-wet coat, and headed out the door, the others behind her.
‘Sean?' Chumia asked, open-mouthed. 'Your brother Sean?’
‘Bring clothes!' Sinead yelled back over her shoulder to Muktuk, but Chumia had already shoved Muktuk's latchkay snowpants and parka into his arms.
‘By all the powers that be, if it ain't the guv himself!' Muktuk said when he saw Sean striding briskly towards them, sanguine, purposeful and naked.
‘Nobody mentioned this was a dress occasion,' Sean said, grinning. 'Sis, I'm glad to see you. Have you told them what's up?’
‘She said somethin' about that pirate kinswoman of ours maybe comin' for a visit…' Muktuk said.
‘That's right,' Sean said, pulling on the snowpants. 'And we want to make sure she has a warm reception, don't we? We'll need to get as many folks as possible armed with whatever they have.’
‘We told her if she lost her job she should come,' Muktuk said reluctantly. 'Greeting her with an armed mob doesn't seem real hospitable.’
‘Not a mob, a posse,' Sean said. 'She and one of her henchmen hit Adak Rourke over the head and stole that aerial map Whittaker Fiske gave us to get them here. I don't think she's coming here to settle, Muktuk. I'm hoping she's ready to do a deal for Yana, Bunny and the others. I doubt she'll come without a suitable escort of her own so we'll need a suitable one, too.’