“Thanks, but right now all I want to see is a big city glowing with wasted light and full of naive customers with deep pockets.”
“What of your intentions to do commerce among us, as you once said you had been sent here to do?”
“No offense, but I’ve kinda lost my taste for working this territory. I’ll let some other representative of my company have that honor. I’m assuming that I still have a job, you see. Most companies frown on their employees’ taking a couple of years off without explanation.”
“But surely once you tell your”—Elfa struggled for the proper word—“master of what has happened he will be understanding and allow you to return.”
“Not master, just employer,” Ethan replied irritably, wishing he could scratch his chin but unwilling to pop the visor on his suit. “Although if I could talk to the big boss himself, I might be able to make him understand. I know my regional supervisor won’t.”
She turned her penetrating gaze on Ethan’s companion. “And what of you, friend Skua? A warrior like yourself could command whole armies. There will be much fighting ahead. Not all will be persuaded to join the Union by sweet words. Your skills would be welcomed by our generals.”
“You’re a darlin’, Elfa.” Ethan tensed but Hunnar only grinned, showing sharp canines. September had indulged freely in the local liquor. “But you don’t need me. With your combined forces you’ll be able to overwhelm the most powerful recalcitrant city-state. Don’t need me to make ’em see reason. I’d just be in the way, stealing the glory from some ambitious Tran warrior. Don’t want to step on somebody else’s career. Did that before, once, and it’s never left me. Besides, I’ve got business of my own to attend to.”
Ethan glanced sharply at him. “What business? You never said anything to me about having any business to get back to.”
“What did you think I was about, young feller-me-lad? Retirement?” There was a twinkle in his eye. “There’s this lady friend of long standing got herself a grant to do some studies on one of those out of the way recently discovered worlds Down-Arm. Fuspin—no, Alaspin the place is called. She’s an archaeologist. Been after me for years to give her a hand with one of her projects. Ought to still be out there, poking into alien thises and thatses, getting dirt under her pretty fingernails. Told me this Alaspin’s a jungle world. After our little stint hereabouts why, I’m ready for some sweat and humidity. That’s where I’m bound soon as we can take passage offplanet.” He smiled at Elfa.
“Second time, nothing personal. Your world’s an invigorating place, but just a mite too much so for us humanfolk. So you’ll understand why we’re taking our leave.”
“We will strive to.” She put a warm paw on September’s forearm. “We can offer you many things, but not a substitute for home.”
Home, Ethan thought. Did he have a home? Different nights, different cities on different worlds and then on again. If anyplace were home, it was the long emptiness between stars. Nothingness is my home, he thought, trying to be flip but finding that considering the matter seriously made him uncomfortable. Travel, sign a contract, travel on. It was hard even to remember his world of origin.
And what if he’d lost his job and couldn’t get it back? What to do then? Proceed to the nearest civilized world and seek new employment?
No, he still had a job, was still a sales rep for the House of Malaika. He had to proceed on that assumption. It was all the security he had left. Maybe Elfa was right. Maybe his superiors would understand. One thing he could be sure of: they’d never heard an excuse for extended absenteeism like his.
He was wondering if his samples still sat in the customs warehouse as the Slanderscree docked again in the harbor of Brass Monkey. The icerigger would wait until its honored human passengers rode back toward the stars in one of their skyboats. There was also the matter of stocking the big ship for the long journey homeward.
One thing Ethan had already decided. If he were out of a job, he intended to claim his simple trade goods and give them to Hunnar and Elfa. Let the company sue him for the cost—if they could find him. A modern inert-element space heater would be worth a Landgrave’s ransom to the Tran.
During their recent long journey to Moulokin, the outpost’s engineers had received and installed a deep-space communications beam. For the first time since the establishment of the outpost, its citizens were able to communicate directly with the rest of the Commonwealth without having to wait for the monthly supply ship to carry out messages. The difficulty Ethan faced in trying to contact his superiors was that the beam was booked up for months in advance by long-suffering, long-silenced bureaucrats and researchers. Having been denied regular communication via null-space with the rest of civilization, they were making up for lost years by using the transmitter around the clock. Ostensibly it was all official business. In reality they just wanted to talk.
The solution to the problem of availability and cost was one and the same. Without it he couldn’t so much as think of calling company headquarters.
Skua accompanied him to the gleaming underground communications center. Together they eyed the cluster of government functionaries and scientists gathered outside the broadcast console. The actual screen and its attendant instrumentation were enclosed in a bubble of smoked acrylic. As soon as one concluded his or her communication someone else entered the bubble. New hopefuls arrived in a steady stream. The number waiting to make use of the transmitter rose and fell without ever falling below a dozen.
September eyed the line of hopeful supplicants. “How are you going to break into that? And if you succeed, how are you going to pay for this? Use your retirement fund? This ain’t like calling your old Aunt Tilly, you know.”
Ethan smiled confidently. “You’re right on both counts, but I’ll manage. At least, I think I will.”
He led September forward, pushing and excusing his way past irritated, curious members of the outpost population, until they were standing just outside the entrance to the broadcast bubble.
“Hey, you,” snapped one of those in line, “there’s a queue here.”
“Sorry.” Ethan flashed his most convincing smile. It was a salesman’s smile, a professional smile; well practiced, endlessly rehearsed, subtly effective. “First-priority communication.”
A smirk appeared on the face of the midlevel bureaucrat next in line. “First-priority? I don’t recognize you. You’re not government or research. You have any idea what a First-priority costs? Kitchen help couldn’t pay for a First if the whole crew pooled a year’s pay.” He bestowed the dubious eye on both of them. Battered by the time spent out on the ice, Ethan had to admit that he and September probably didn’t look like they could afford a short sentence between them.
He just smiled at the man. “We’ll see. If you’re correct, we’ll be in and out of there in half a minute, won’t we?”
The bureaucrat performed an exaggerated bow and gestured magnanimously with his right arm. “Leave us not waste unnecessary time then, shall we?” The woman standing behind him turned to her friend and giggled.
As soon as the functionary inside completed his business, Ethan and Skua stepped inside. Some of those farther back in the line might have disputed Ethan’s right to try his luck even for a few seconds, but no one seemed inclined to strike up an argument with someone the size of September, which was why Ethan had brought him along in the first place.
The beam operator was tired, near the end of his shift, but not too tired to regard the newcomers uncertainly. He was blond and pale, and Ethan decided his ancestors would have been more at home on Tran-ky-ky than any other humans.