As Ethan and Skua passed into the meeting room, a blast of cold air struck their exposed skin. Leaving the comforting confines of the outpost was always a shock, and this wasn’t even outside. Out on the ice beyond, the midday reading hovered between twenty and thirty below zero—on a clear day. Near the poles it was so cold that if not for the steady circulation of the atmosphere, the air itself would have frozen and fallen to the ground like dust.
Hunnar looked a little heavier than usual, Ethan mused. Marriage was already showing its effects. Greetings were exchanged.
“Well, friend Ethan, were you able to talk across the night to your Landgrave?” At the look on Ethan’s face the Tran adopted a tone of concern. “It went badly?”
“No, not badly. It’s just that—well, it was decided that I’m to stay here and continue with my work.”
“Here?” Suaxus’s pointed ears twitched forward. “With us? But that be wonderful news, Sir Ethan!”
“It is good,” Hunnar agreed. “I understand if you will not be able to return to Sofold with us, but because we now have the Slanderscree we will be able to come and visit you.”
“Yes, and one day I’ll be able to travel in a skimmer.” Despite what Malaika had said about letting employees do the fieldwork Ethan knew he could hardly turn a bunch of innocents lose on the surface of Tran-ky-ky without personal supervision. They wouldn’t last a month. The Tran would eat them alive, perhaps literally.
“I know that our climate and some of our people are not to your liking,” Hunnar said perceptively, “and that mayhap you wish still to return to your home, but when and wherever possible we shall strive to make a home for you here, among us.”
“It won’t be bad,” Ethan assured him, talking as much to himself as to his friends. “For a salesman, home is where you plug in your order screen.” And he had friends here already, he reflected. Unlike humans, when you made friends with a Tran you had a friend for life. He clapped a hand on Hunnar’s arm, feeling the thick bristly fur through the sensitive glove of his survival suit. “Let’s go see how the Slanderscree’s repairs are coming along. Now that I hold an official position here, I’m going to be able to help you a lot more. Anything Captain Ta-hoding requires in the way of joints or glue or bolts, I’ll be able to requisition from outpost stocks and charge to the company. I can put it all down to priming the customers.” He flipped up his hood but kept the ice visor unsealed. Maybe he couldn’t help himself but he could damn well help his friends.
“That’s the spirit, feller-me-lad.” September hung back. “While you’re out looking over the old Slanderscree I’m going to be getting what personal possessions I have together. The Spindizzy’s shuttle should be arriving pretty quick now and I won’t want to be late.”
Ethan turned at the exit to grin back at his friend. “You know these commercial shuttles. Some of them are pretty small.” September was six foot ten and built like a tank. “What if they don’t have a seat wide enough to fit you?”
“Why in that case, lad, I’ll have the factotum for the House of Malaika order me up a special crate and I’ll ship myself out as cargo.” He winked. “Happens as how I know the factotum himself and he owes me a favor or two.”
In fact, September was not quite ready for departure when Ethan thumbed the privacy buzzer set in the door of the small apartment the giant had been allotted. Several days had passed and the Spindizzy’s shuttle rested in the outpost hangar, still taking on cargo and comments.
The door slid into the wall to reveal an awesome sight few human eyes had encountered, or would want to—Skua September clad only in his underwear.
“Come in, young feller-me-lad, come in. In a little while I’ll be off and there’ll be time only to recall the things you wanted to say and didn’t.” He put a hand over the close control. Ethan stayed outside.
“You won’t be off like that, I hope.”
“Not on this world. It’s cold enough in the hanger. Come in, why don’t you, before we shock some passing technocrat?”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Skua. You’re going to have to come out.”
The giant’s huge bushy eyebrows drew together. “Don’t talk riddles with me, feller-me-lad. Not now. I’ve no business remaining here that requires my presence.”
“There’s someone who disagrees with you.”
“And who might that be?”
“The new Resident Commissioner.”
September glared at the floor. “How so? If they need some kind of deposition or statement from me, they can get ahold of me on Alaspin—if they can track down Isili’s site.”
“It’s not that simple, Skua. She’s flagged your boarding pass.”
“Splendid,” he muttered. “If some bureaucratic mama thinks she’s going to keep me off that shuttle, she’s got another thing coming.”
“She sure does. You and me.” He checked his chronometer. “In twenty minutes, to be exact. In her office.”
“What’s the point?” September made no effort to conceal his exasperation. “We’ve already entered everything that happened outside Moulokin in the official records.”
“Don’t get excited,” Ethan advised him. An excited September was something even his friends didn’t want to be around. “I’m sure it’s just a last-minute formality of some kind. In five minutes it’ll be done with and you’ll be out of there and on your way. We don’t even know what she wants to see us for. Maybe just to say hello and, in your case, good-bye.”
“She wants to see you, too, huh?”
Ethan nodded. “Before you get yourself all exercised and overwrought let’s just go up there and see what she wants. Besides, aren’t you curious to see who the Commonwealth has sent out as a replacement for that schmuck Trell? It’s crucial to the future of the Tran.”
“Aye, but not to the future of the September.” He sighed resignedly. “If she’s flagged my boarding pass I don’t have any choice. Wait while I find something to put on. Perhaps if she’s young and inexperienced she’ll need to have a private chat with old Skua to learn what this world’s really about.”
“What about your shuttle?”
“For the important things in life, one can always make time, feller-me-lad.”
The office of the Resident Commissioner occupied the apex of the triangular structure which housed much of the local Commonwealth administrative complex. From its top it commanded sweeping views of the outpost of Brass Monkey, the modest Tran community which had grown up around it, and the fjordlike ice harbor beyond. Tran ice ships sat tied up to low stone docks, seeking protection from the stronger winds that blasted the open ice ocean.
Ethan’s apprehension and Skua’s anticipation both turned out to be misplaced. The new Resident Commissioner for Tran-ky-ky was a pleasant, handsome woman in her mid-seventies. She wore a severe dress suit of light blue with Commonwealth insignia to match. Touches of the exact same shade of blue formed two parallel streaks in her otherwise silvery hair. She did not look like anyone’s grandma. Her movements were slow and her speech patient. Her name was Millicent Stanhope.
“Be seated, gentlemen.”
“Look, ma’am,” September said, starting in without waiting to be asked, “I can’t stay long. I’m booked on the Spindizzy, as you know, and I don’t want to miss her. I’ve been stuck on this world for too long already.”