The man he met had never left his native system. He saw TJ pilots come in every few months, and had been doing this work for sixty years. He glanced at Deitrich’s coupon with a blasé casualness.
“Captain Deitrich,” he murmured. “You’re the Home fleet that has just taken up its orbit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine. Make yourself comfortable there,” the man indicated a seat. “Can I get you some refreshment?”
“Thank you,” Deitrich replied politely, “but I’m a little concerned about the strangers I brought in with me. Immigrants.”
“Oh? Visitors? Immigrants?” The commissioner frowned, and his eyes almost disappeared in the flesh that surrounded them. He moved thick, soft fingers over a patch of control buttons. “See that Captain Deitrich’s passengers are cleared immediately,” he ordered. Then he looked back at Deitrich. “Is that fast enough for you, captain?”
Deitrich nodded and grinned. “Fine.”
“I’m taking your word that they fulfill the requirements for entrance into this system.”
“That was all handled back at Bella III.”
“Good. Now, captain, would you care for that drink?” At Deitrich’s nod, he asked, “What will you have, oonalyn? Betelgeuse? They’re very good.”
“Oonalyn,” Deitrich replied. “I know what effect it has.”
“Then you should try the betelgeuse, captain.”
The drink was brought by a shiny blue automaton that ran on five wheels and had nine pentadactylended tentacles. The commissioner eyed the machine proudly as it served them. “We’re not so far behind them at that, are we?”
Deitrich agreed with the man, although he knew that by this time the Home had considerably superior devices to this. But the Eighteen Planet System could not truthfully be called backward in many respects. Situated as it was, with its huge sun moving lazily along not quite halfway between Home Galaxy and M33, it became a natural trading post between them. Technically, it, belonged to the Home Galaxy, but only technically. One hundred and seventy running years of distance had proved to be just too far to exert any political control.
And, operating as an independent and growing monopoly, the lonely system had gorged itself on the trade between the Home and its populous farther colonies. Culture, considered as purchasable a commodity as any other, was liberally imported from wherever it was obtainable. Every luxury and technological advance had to pass through there on its way to the hungry markets in either direction. The Eighteen Planets thrived upon it.
The commissioner sipped his wine and brushed his heavy lips delicately. “Deitrich,” he mused. “I seem to remember my grandfather speaking of a time-jump pilot by that name.” He looked again at the identification coupon. “I believe that you must be the man.”
“Very likely,” Deitrich replied. “I was in here about that period.”
“My name is Stek,” the commissioner said, laughing. He spelled it out. “I don’t suppose that brings anything to mind?”
“Stek?” Dei I rich repeated uncertainly. He considered for a moment and then said, “I believe there was a young man by that name.” He thought a moment and then nodded vigorously. “Certainlv. He was a young customs clerk here who had ambitions to become a TJ pilot. He pestered me to death talking about it.” Deitrich grinned. “I see he didn’t go.”
“No, he didn’t, captain. He spoke of you as the one who advised him against it in no uncertain terms. He took your word for it. And later, after he became commissioner—that was when I knew him—he had seen enough to realize that you were right.”
“I’m glad of that.”
“Yes. He was very grateful for the advice. And I guess I wouldn’t be here either if he hadn’t talked to you. More oonalyn?” Deitrich shook his head, so Stek helped himself and then asked cheerfully, “What sort of cargo do you carry this time?”
“It’s all on the squad tape, of course. There are those fifty immigrants that you have already cleared. Two cylinders of a new drive mechanism for planetary craft.”
“Sealed units?”
Deitrich shrugged. “I suppose,” he murmured. “I didn’t check into that.”
“Good. The technicians who unload such material sometimes like to tinker with exposed machinery. Generally speaking they don’t know what they’re doing with Home devices and smash some of them. What else?”
“The usual transcripts, communications, technical literature. And… oh, well. There are two hundred cylinders in all, and I must admit that I didn’t bother too much with it.” He laughed. “I still would have had to carry them. And the credit you establish for the Home on the basis of the shipment is entirely in your hands anyway.”
“Well,” said the commissioner, “you’ll find that we shall exhibit our customary generosity.”
“Makes no difference to me, as long as you don’t disturb the two through-cylinders. They’re loaded with subsidy colonists.”
Alarm showed on Stek’s face. “They’re not free, are they?”
“No. They are still phased out of time—in stasis or however you call it here. That’s why I don’t want them disturbed. They’re bound for the frontier.”
Satisfied, Stek replied, “We’ll not bother them, captain. It wouldn’t do to set a lot of Federation-supported tramps loose in the Eighteen Planets.”
“Well—” Again Deitrich shrugged his disclaimer of interest. “Your restrictions are your privilege.”
“At least, so it has always been.” Stek considered a moment and then said, “But we never can be too sure when the Home will try to make us change them. By the way, how is the situation back there?”
“About the same as usual,” Deitrich told him blandly. “Bit of a squabble out in the coal sack region. Seems somebody got hold of a new weapon and threatened to use it. I guess you got some information on that from the last transport.”
Stek waggled his many chins in affirmation. He asked, “Have they settled it?”
“They did it very simply, because the weapon wasn’t so new after all. The Home Federation had discovered it a century before, but kept it secret. They used it on the rebels.”
“Was it really an annihilator?” Stek asked in a quick, low voice.
“Yes. The coal sack is a little bigger now.”
Stek looked down at the field of buttons on his desk, and pensively caressed them with his fat hand. “That is an awful power to have,” he murmured soberly.
“Judging by the fact that the Home had it a full century before they used it, I’d say that it is in pretty reasonable hands.”
“I agree. But in another century somebody else is going to be running things there. They may not be so reasonable.”
Deitrich grinned wryly. “Those are things I don’t like to think about much. But it shouldn’t affect you, personally,” he added, “unless you take up time-jumping.”
“No thank you, captain,” Stek said. “Would you care for another oonalyn?”
“I think I better get on with my business here,” Deitrich replied apologetically.
Stek acquiesced. “I suppose so. Incidentally, we have provided the TJ commission with a new building. I think you’ll like it, captain. There is a permanent secretary for the pilots in the system, which you should find a convenience.” He smiled and said, “When we first hired her, she thought you pilots operated time machines.”
“That’s not uncommon among the secondary classes.”
“Yes. At any rate, she treats all of you as if you were the same man, so don’t be surprised. I believe she regards it as her personal joke.”