He was a bit surprised the old man didn't hear him land and come out, but after a few minutes, he shrugged and headed for Nabel's "office". There was no sign of Nabel, and Cale was beginning to get worried and suspicious. Had the pirates tracked him down? Had news of the price on his head reached here? Would he find only an ambush in the old warship/office?
He motioned Ruth to stand to one side, then went to the other, turned the knob and threw the door open. It banged against the hull, but there was no hail of pellets or blaster fire. Just a wave of stench and a querulous voice. "'Bout time ye got here!" Nabel said weakly. "I been waitin' fer ya fer a week!" The two visitors steeled themselves against the odor and entered the office.
They found Nabel propped in his float chair. A duramin rod was tied to his right thigh and leg with filthy rags. The overpowering smell testified that he had been sitting in his own feces, unable to get to the 'fresher in the next compartment of the old ship.
"What happened?" Cale asked as he forced himself to examine the crude splint.
"Talk about it outside," Ruth interrupted. "We have to get him out of here before anything else."
Cale nodded. "I'll find something we can use for a litter."
"Nah," the old man said. "Just gimme a hand up and let me lean on yer shoulder." Cale lifted the old man out of the chair and put his shoulder under Nabel's armpit. With Ruth stabilizing his left side, they made their way into the bright sunlight and out of the horrid stench. Cale found an old acceleration couch whose padding had not yet rotted away, and he jammed it into the ground. He hoisted Nabel into the improvised bed. "Okay, now what happened?"
Nabel grimaced. "Damned scaffold collapsed on me. M'right thigh's broken. I crawled over here to th' office. Lucky there was a survival water tin outside the hatch of that Epsilon tramp over there. I pushed it inta the office aheada me. Didn't get no food, though. I found the rod, stretched the thigh, an' splinted it. Been settin there ever since makin' bets with myself about whether you'd come back afore I starved."
Cale was puzzled. "Why us? I mean, you're on a planet. Why did no one come to find you? Why didn't you call for help?"
The old man chuckled. "Shit, Son, they ain't but about twenty folks left in Torlon City. They hate me an' I hate them. They pretty much leave me alone. An' the phone system ain't worked fer near ten years." He sobered as he shook his head. "Torlon's had it, boy. When I die, th' last spaceflight capability on Torlon will go away, and it'll go the way of Cutler's World."
Cale waved a hand. "What about those tramps over there on the field?"
"Hah! I put 'em there, boy. So's it'd look like Torlon was still an active port. But your ship was the first to ground here in half a year. Ain't been one here since you left, either. Did ya bring m'baby back to me?"
Cale nodded and started to speak, but Ruth interrupted. "Enough! This unfortunate man is injured and in pain. Noble sire," she asked Nabel, "Where might we find clean fresh water and a way to heat it?"
Nabel stared at Ruth as though seeing her for the first time. "Noble sire? I'd bet you'd be from… lessee… Ararat or Camelot, right? Damn if you ain't a purty thang."
Ruth winced inwardly at the old man’s swearing, but she smiled and nodded. "Ararat, noble sire."
Nabel looked at Cale. "I see why your mission was so urgent. Cain't blame ya none. I'da been in a hurry to get her, too!"
Both Cale and Ruth blushed and tried to stammer out denials at the same time, both trailing off as they heard the other speak.
Nabel just chuckled. "Then you're both damned fools. Th' water in the 'fresher in the office is good. The well goes through to bedrock. An' the galley works fer heatin'"
Cale nodded and set off. He found a bucket hanging from a rope outside the airlock of a DIN-class freighter hulk. He was still stiff from their high-G run, and yawning, but he got the water and heated it in the old corvette's tiny galley.
Between them they stripped off Nabel's filthy shipsuit and foul underwear, and Ruth calmly began cleaning the man up. She gave no indication that Nabel's nakedness bothered or offended her. She simply cleaned the dried urine and feces from the old man's skinny body in a calm and businesslike manner.
Then she turned her attention to his right thigh, gently touching and feeling the limits of the break. Finally, she sat back. "It is indeed broken, noble sire. May I offer my services? I am no healer, but I have set such for others in my village."
The hard lines of Nabel's face softened, as did his tone. "Yep. You're from Ararat, all right. Been there twice. The first time, by the time I figgered out their manners, I'd lost a deal. Second time was better." He paused, and a smile lit his face. "The manner of speech near drove me crazy, but I cain't say anyone ever tried to cheat me on Ararat. Thank ye, mistress. I'd be honored to accept your generous offer."
Cale gave the man a piece of thick leather to chew on, and then stretched the red, swollen leg. When Ruth felt the ends of the bone align, she replaced Nabel's makeshift splint with one from an emergency medical kit still aboard the DIN-class hulk. Cale rummaged through the med kit, hoping to find a nanobot kit, but he was disappointed.
Nabel shrugged. "They wouldn't have been any good by now, anyway. That ship's been here near twenty years." He brightened. "Say! If you can get me to th' orbital yard, I got an old Beta-class liner up there still powered up. I use it t'live in when I'm workin' up there. Which ain't often, any more. But she's got a real sickbay, with a regen tank. A few hours in there, an' I'll be right!"
L'rak was too small to transport the three of them, and Cale flatly refused to leave Ruth behind on Torlon, even for a few hours. However, Nabel assured him that one of the tramps on the port pad still flew. He used it to ferry ship parts down from the orbital yard. It was filthy and cluttered, but it did fly, and carried them to the liner. Cale matched orbits with the ships' airlocks only a few meters apart.
Ruth complained when told she would have to remain on the tramp while the two men went onto the liner. "You can't wear a suit with that long hair. Besides, it would be criminal to put you in a spacesuit without any training. There are too many ways a suit can kill you." Cale responded. Her pleadings failed miserably. Cale was adamant, and Nabel backed him up.
They helped Nabel into a suit and the two men simply jumped across the three meters between the airlocks. The liner was shabby, but her life support functioned flawlessly, as did her AI, which greeted them as they boarded.
Nabel explained their mission, and in moments, a robot floatchair appeared to carry the old man to the sick bay.
"I am activating the sick bay and the regen tank," the AI informed them. "I have run diagnostics, and the med comp is completely functional. Nanobot support is also available if needed, though the nanobots are nearing their expiration date." The AI's voice was female, a warm, cultured contralto befitting the fine liner she had once been.
Cale returned to the tramp and a frantic Ruth. Nabel joined them three hours later, walking effortlessly, as though he had not just had a broken thighbone. They returned to the planet.
Nabel was in an expansive, talkative mood. "While I was sittin' there in my own shit for a week, I had a lot of time to think," he began. “Torlon is done. I've tried for thirty years to find a younker I could teach to take over the business, or just to learn to pilot. But them as were interested was drove off by the book learning it took, an' once the port traffic slowed down, people started driftin' away from Torlon City. Ain't but about twenty left. Most of 'em went off farmin' or somethin'."
"What about the man over in the port building? The comm tech?"
"Him? Pah. It just makes him feel important to carry the comm alarm around. I figger he'll get tired of carryin' it someday, an' Torlon's last contact with the rest of the galaxy will be lost.
"Anyway," he continued, "I'm done here. I'll buy L'rak back, 'cause I said I would, an' 'cause I just hate to give her up. But I'm gittin' outta here. I figger I'll just load up that old tramp with the best stuff I got, take your gold, and head off fer greener pastures."
Cale grinned. "You'd abandon your scrap empire, here?"
Nabel's answering grin was accompanied by an enthusiastic bobbing of his head. "Truth is, I been bringin' in the only hard currencies on the planet, and the people here are goin' back to barter. No profit in that fer me. Oh, they's a good market out there fer used ship parts, what with the loss of manufacturin' since the Fall. But this fall showed me I'm too old t'be climbin' around on scaffolds in gravity fields."
Finally, Cale thought, an opening. "If you're really going to abandon this place, do you mind if I do a bit of scavenging, myself?"
Nabel laughed aloud. "Son, you find anything here or in orbit you want, you can have it as the price of L'rak. I got a few operable ships left, if you want one. Tell ya what. I'll just transfer the title to the whole shebang to you. Oh, I expect once I leave these people will come in an’ steal anythin' down here not welded down. But there's still plenty a' good stuff in orbit."
Cale thought hard. No one would be able to track him to Torlon, and if they did, no one here except Nabel had really had contact with him. It might be useful to have a cache of ships and parts in orbit here. Call it a "bolt hole," a safe refuge in case the hounds got close. Nothing deteriorates in the vacuum of space, except radioactives, of course. Nabel had already posted a beacon proclaiming ownership of the orbiting junk and warning off trespassers. But chances are he could come back in fifty years, and that Beta-class liner would still be there to welcome him. Call it a private space station and space fleet. All for the price of two bars of gold.
"Done," he said, "but there're two things I'll need you to do for me. One is to help me ferry any operable ships here on-planet up to the orbital yard. Second, do you have papers on all your ships here? I'm particularly interested in that Stinger-class courier in the yard."
"That? Sure, I got all the papers on it. Had to keep 'em, in case somebody claimed it was theirs. I got papers on all of 'em."
Cale nodded. "Good. I want you to transfer ownership of that ship to me, officially, on the ship's papers. I also want you to cut out the hull plate with the ident info cast into it. We'll be welding it into place on my ship, once I bring it down. We'll hide the rest of the papers on one of the hulks in orbit. You never know what you might need some day."
Nabel's smile turned suspicious. Then his face cleared, and he waved a hand. "No, I don't want to know. Fer two bars a gold, I ain't askin' no questions.”
They wrestled a large file cabinet out of the depths of the old ship, and Nabel finally found the papers for Cheetah, the Stinger-class in the yard. They completed the formalities transferring Cheetah and the entire scrapyard business to Cale, and L'rak back to Nabel. They put the file cabinet full of ship's papers on an antigrav skid and moved it to the port landing pad, near the tramp they'd used, and Cale triggered the recall beacon for Scorpion, soon to be Cheetah.
Nabel's tramp was the only operable ship planetside, so no ferrying was required. Cale offered to help Nabel gather valuables and load the tramp, but Nabel declined. "Naw, I'm retired now. Got nothin' but time. They's no hurry. Might take a week, might take a month. It don't matter. I got nowhere to go, an' all the time in the world t'get there. Right now, I think I'll get started cuttin' out that hull plate."
Cale frowned. "Ber, are you sure about this? I mean, you just signed your life's work over to a stranger because of a broken leg."
Nabel smiled. "Yep, I'm sure. 'Sides, it ain't my 'life's work'. It's been more of a life than you think!"
Cale wished him well, and the old man returned to the yard.
By the time Scorpion grounded, the new hull plate was ready. Cale had Tess ground Scorpion at the entrance to the yard. Nabel simply commented on her similarity to the Stinger-class ships, and the differences. Then he began expertly cutting the ident hull plate out. Some six hours later, the hull plate was in place. Only a slight newness in the antirad coating over the new plate revealed the deception, and a few weeks in space would take care of that. Cale inspected the work carefully. After all, Cheetah was a space-to-ground vehicle, and aerodynamics was important. However, Nabel was an expert. The new welds were blended flawlessly. Cheetah would pass even the closest inspection.
Tess, the ship's AI, took the identity change in stride. Evidently, she accepted it as part of the 'secret agent' story with which she had been programmed.
It was not so easy with Ruth. Ever since he had introduced the subject, Ruth had been cold and distant. "I will not ask why you feel it necessary to perpetrate this hoax. I understand that lying and cheating are the offworlder's way." was her only comment.
Cale sighed in exasperation. "I told you when you came aboard that I was being chased," he replied in an irritated tone. "With luck, this will be the last of the deceptions necessary." Anger flared. "Damn it, I'm trying to save our lives!"
She was unruffled. "At the cost of your honor and your immortal soul."
"I don't believe in souls, and I lost my honor a long time ago." he shot back. "About the time I was made a slave and sent to the mines! All I have left is my life. I'm very fond of my life. It's the only one I've got!"
She stiffened in astonishment. "You do not believe in the soul? And what of God?"
"Which one? There are thousands throughout the galaxy. One of the nastiest tyrannies in history was a theocracy. You, of all people, should know. Ararat was a Glory world!"
"Of course I know of the Mission. They were seduced by false prophets, but they sought only to bring mankind to the Lord. Their intentions were good."
Cale laughed, a grating, derisive sound. "Good intentions have caused more misery throughout mankind's history than anything else." He became aware of a growing anger, and clamped down on it. "You see? We have to work out an arrangement, at least for the time we're together. Can we agree that your moral standards differ from those of most man-settled planets?"
"Yes!" she replied heatedly, "They're better!"
Cale suppressed an equally heated reply. A quarrel would not settle their differences; indeed, it would only drive each of them toward the extremes. "Very well," he said in a reasonable tone, "They're 'better'. But they are not the same, and unless you want to provoke quarrels wherever you go, I suggest you follow them if you wish, but not try to impose them on others or lecture others about them."
Ruth looked troubled, but did not reply.
"Also," he continued after a moment, "While your exaggerated courtesy and piety fit the culture of Ararat, you will find that they will only irritate and annoy most others."
"You prefer rudeness and impiety?" she shot back sarcastically.
"Of course not," he replied quietly. "I suggest only that you restrain yourself from using the extravagant courtesies of Ararat. No, don't interrupt," he added, to forestall her heated response. "You're not stupid. You know exactly what I mean. You've seen me interact with you and with Nabel. You know the level of courtesy I mean. And if you still don't, just keep quiet until you do know."
"Of course I understand," she replied in a surly tone. "But just because others lack courtesy is no reason for me to forego it."
He shook his head. "Of course it is. Look. I'm not from Ararat. But I was taught that the real essence of courtesy, the reason for its existence, was to make others feel at home and comfortable around you."
She nodded. "Of course."
"Good. Can't you accept that we are more casual than those on Ararat, but we can still make others feel comfortable? That your frequent references to beliefs they do not share might make them uncomfortable? And that the high-flown verbiage and flowery courtesies would only embarrass or even offend these more casual people? That they might think you are mocking or ridiculing them?"
Her eyes widened. "Would they really think that I would do such?"
He shrugged. "Very possibly. You find some of our mannerisms offensive, don't you?"
Ruth frowned. "I certainly do!"
He smiled a genuine smile this time. "Of course. Essentially," he continued, "you have two choices. You can force yourself to adapt to the ways of most of the galaxy, or you can try to insist that it adapt itself to your Ararat ways. Since you won't be returning to Ararat soon, if at all, I'd suggest you do the adapting."
Ruth did not reply, but her expression was thoughtful.
Since she was a luxurious yacht, Cheetah was much roomier than the tiny L’rak. After her discussion with Cale, Ruth retreated to her large stateroom and seldom came out even for meals. She spent most of her time avoiding Cale, thinking a lot, and talking to Tess, the ship’s AI. Unfamiliar with ships, Ruth never noticed anything unusual in Tess’s responses or even her seeming concern. Ruth didn’t wonder at Tess’s ability to offer unsolicited opinions, or indeed, her ability to even have opinions. Moreover, Tess’s apparent woman-to-woman sympathy to Ruth’s confidences only incited her to share more of them.
Ruth was seriously worried. She had had her space adventure, and she had started to believe, trust, and even like Cale. But his actions and responses on Torlon had shaken her badly, and his responses during their last conversation had actually frightened her.
Obviously, Ruth’s family and teachers had been right about offworlders. They had no honor. Apparently, falsifying a ship’s documents and even flat-out lying to planetary authorities and even business associates were well within Cale’s moral code.
Worse, he was an atheist — a creature Ruth had been taught to fear and abhor. How could one have a moral compass without a belief in the Lord and His holy word?
Worst of all, though, was his ability to twist words, to make the worst of sins seem acceptable and even laudable. Somehow, he could make things seem reasonable and right, even when she knew they violated God’s Holy Scripture.
No, she and Tess decided, Ruth had to get away. Tess claimed to know of planets with codes and beliefs similar to those on Ararat.
If she could convince Cale to drop her off… Ruth was cured of her wanderlust. She was lonely and frightened. She wanted to go home! Unfortunately, she knew that to be impossible. Perhaps if she prayed hard and repented her sinful actions, God would soften Cale’s heart and get him to take her to a civilized world!
Ruth was not the only one doing a lot of thinking. With Ruth hunkering down in her stateroom, Cale had been trying to deal with the problem she presented.
Damn it! He hadn’t asked the silly girl to stow away on L’rak. Nevertheless, he was stuck with her, now. He had no doubt what Smiley’s answer would be — he would simply push Ruth out the airlock and be done with her.
But he wasn’t Smiley, and he was no longer Emo Arror, the Terror. He never even considered that action. No, he had to find a way to deal with the girl that John Smith could live with. Not Cale Rankin the pragmatist, and certainly not Emo Arror; but John Smith, the honest, upright, respectable attorney. The man he hoped to someday become once more, even if under a different name.
Okay. Maybe he could find a world that was similar enough to Ararat to permit the girl to live a happy life. He still had two of the gold bars. Surely, they would be enough to get her comfortably settled, and maybe even enough to serve as a good dowry. With any luck, in a few years she would be a plump farm wife with a child on each hip. He smiled.
“Tess,” he called out, “Search the stellar index for this sector. Keywords are universal religious belief, Christianity, and open to strangers.” He paused. He still wasn’t sure he understood Tess’s capabilities. He sighed. “I’m looking for planets similar to Ararat, where Ruth would be able to live without offending the planet’s mores, or hers either, for that matter.”
“Yes, sir,” the AI replied in her pleasant, if somewhat mechanical contralto. “There are six planets in the sector that feature universal Christian beliefs, but most are insular and suspicious of strangers. The planet that most closely meets your criteria is Faith.”
“Faith! Of course!” Cale answered. “Just the right choice. I haven’t been there, but I’ve met two people from there, and they do resemble people from Ararat, though without the flowery language. Thank you, Tess,” he continued. “Would you ask Ruth to join me, please?”
“Of course, sir”
Ruth appeared a few minutes later, looking sullen and suspicious. Tess had told her that Cale had found a Christian planet on which to leave her, but Ruth was having trouble believing that the Lord could answer her prayers so quickly.
“Ruth,” Cale began, “It is obvious that our outlooks are far too different for comfort. I do not know your original plans when you stowed away, but I’m afraid you will find most worlds far too liberal and worldly for your comfort. I cannot return to Ararat for several reasons, and I must be about my own business alone. I have, however, located a world with values similar to those of Ararat. I propose to take you there and drop you off. The planet is called “Faith,” and from what I know of it, I think you will be happy there. Tess will have information about Faith in her files, and will be able to tell you about it.”
Ruth slipped from her chair to the floor, where she knelt and prayed, thanking God in his infinite wisdom for his mercy. Then she rose and turned to Cale. “Sire Rankin, I pray you accept my gratitude and my abject apology,” she said with massive dignity. “Though you are an outworlder and an unbeliever, you have treated me with the utmost courtesy and respect. No man of Ararat could have done more.”
Cale suppressed a smile and nodded. “You are very welcome, Ruth,” he replied, “and I wish you all happiness in your future on Faith.”
She smiled at last, a soft and genuine smile. “Mistress Tess told me that you were an honorable man, and would find a way,” she said. “I should have listened more carefully.”
Cale frowned before catching himself and resuming a neutral expression Tess? Tess had told her he was honorable? Tess had told her he would find a way? What was going on here? How could a glorified astrogation comp tell anyone anything? AI’s were not equipped to advise people, or to reassure them. They were comps, damn it. He was becoming seriously concerned about the nature of the “mind” controlling Cheetah. He was seriously beginning to wonder about those old rumors of sentient AI’s. Could it be possible?
He began questioning Ruth about her interactions with Tess. What she told him scared him badly. The conversations she reported, and Tess’s contributions to those conversations, were well outside the capabilities of even the most advanced Old Empire AI. But what if it were true? What if Tess was truly sentient?
He thought back. When he had taken Azure Sky, how had Tess perceived the event? He tried to remember who Azure Sky ’s previous owner was, but he hadn’t really known. Was the previous owner dead? Many of Atlantea’s wealthiest citizens had been tortured and killed by the Terror’s pirates. If the previous owner was dead, it would be critical to find out what Tess’s relationship with the man had been. Had Tess hated the man? Loved him? What if Ruth had been the only thing keeping Tess from killing him? But then, if she had wanted to kill him, why was he still alive? Tess had many opportunities before Ruth came, beginning with his first trip in Azure Sky. Once he was rid of Ruth, he and Tess would have to have a long talk! It might be advisable to prolong his stay on Faith long enough to have that talk. At least with atmosphere outside the ship, he would have a slight chance of surviving the experience if the talk turned bad!
In the meantime, he decided, he would be very nice to both Ruth and Tess!
The atmosphere aboard Cheetah thawed considerably after Cale announced his plans, and the trip passed fairly quickly. Ruth no longer huddled crying in her stateroom. She apparently accessed all of Tess’s records about Faith, and was certain she would be welcomed there.
And she was. When Cale reported his mission to deliver a possible immigrant, the announcement was greeted with a certain amount of reticence and suspicion. Ruth was escorted from Cheetah by four police officers and a “counselor.”
It was the next day before Tess reported three visitors, a conservatively well-dressed man carrying a briefcase and two rather obvious bodyguards.
When they were comfortably seated in the lounge, the man smiled. “I am Aron Ekron, Assistant Director of Justice for the government of Faith.
“Justice?” Cale suddenly turned cold. He couldn’t think of anything he had done that would interest the Justice Ministry. Could Ruth have talked about the irregularities in Cheetah ’s papers? Or said something about Cale himself?
“Yes,” Ekron replied, his professional smile still firmly pasted on his pleasant features, “My colleagues over at Immigration wanted me to tell you that we have welcomed Sister Ruth to Faith, and begun the immigration process.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Cale replied. “She has a very strong faith”
Ekron straightened, placing his briefcase on his lap. “Yes, well, I should also mention that your generous contribution will make her a very wealthy woman here.”
Cale nodded, smiling.
“But now,” Ekron continued, “We come to my business. The registration you provided upon your arrival indicates that your ship is a fast courier, with limited passenger accommodation. I notice, however, that you have not placed a notice on the Worldnet advertising your availability.”
“Well, no,” Cale replied. “Circumstances forced me to divert to Faith, but I have obligations in other systems that will not permit me to solicit contracts here.”
Ekron’s smile faded slightly. “Yes. Well, I’m afraid you will have to accept one. A government contract. You will find the terms quite generous, but I’m afraid we must insist.”
Cale frowned. “I see. What is the nature of this non-negotiable contract?
Ekron clicked the hasps and opened his briefcase. “We have an unfortunate individual who is being sent into exile. We wish to contract you to transport this individual off-world.”
Cale’s frown deepened. “You want me to transport a criminal? Why not just slap them in jail? Or execute them?”
Ekron flushed and cleared his throat noisily. “Yes, well, she isn’t actually a criminal, at least not in the conventional sense. But she is a troublemaker and rabble rouser of the worst sort.” His face lost its professional neutrality and his tone gained an edge of anger. “Her actions against both the Church and the government have been so disruptive as to constitute religious and social terrorism,” he continued. “Both the government and the church agree that this person is a threat to the civil and spiritual well-being of the people of Faith.” Ekron seemed to gather himself and regain his composure.
“She constantly accuses the Church and state of illegal and immoral collusion, and keeps referring to the government as a theocracy comparable to the old Mission for the Greater Glory of God.”
“Is it?” Cale asked quietly.
Ekron’s equilibrium slipped again. “Of course not! Oh, there are some slight similarities, of course. Our ancestors fled a secular tyranny on Greenfields. We have virtually universal membership in the Church, so naturally the Church is an influential institution." He scowled. "She knows better, of course. Her father is the Supreme Archbishop of the Church on Faith. Yet she continues her vile charges.”
Ekron seemed to collect himself, and rummaged in his briefcase. “Now, to business,” he said with a meaningless smile. “The government has authorized a payment in Alliance credits equal to the standard fare for a trip of two jumps on a vessel of your class. It has also authorized payment of the reward that was offered for her conviction, as a substantial bonus.
“In addition,” he continued as though awarding a prize, “the Church has agreed to match that bonus. All payments to be in cash, of course. You will do very well off this slight detour, Captain. Oh, there is one more thing," he added. "The senior Archbishop is naturally concerned with his daughter’s welfare. You will be carrying a substantial letter of credit drawn on an Ararat bank in Alliance credits. Once you reach your destination, and release the young lady, you are to give her the letter of credit. It is hoped that it will help her establish a new and more positive life on another planet.”
“So, where am I supposed to take her?”
Ekron shrugged. "Anywhere she chooses, as long as it is at least two jumps distant from Faith"
Cale shrugged. "With all those Alliance credits, what's to keep her from booking another ship back?"
Ekron's slow smile was tinged with malice. "Nothing except common sense, Captain. I rather wish she would. Then she would be a common criminal. We know very well how to deal with those on Faith."
I'll bet you do, Cale thought. "And when might I expect my passenger?"
"At any time now, Captain. Once she arrives, you are not to release her bonds or her gag until you are in space. She is to be given no opportunity to escape." Ekron's expression turned savage. "To be honest, once you get into space, I don't care if you space the stupid chit! Just make sure she never sees Faith again!" He handed Cale a thick envelope of Alliance Credits, then grabbed his briefcase, and stamped out the hatch, his two-man escort hurrying to catch up.
Cale shook his head and sighed. He was still not going to have a chance to investigate Tess. And the more he learned about Tess, the more she was beginning to frighten him. On top of that, he was going to be saddled with yet another wayward female. Shaking his head, he went to check that the stateroom used by Ruth would be usable for — whatever her name was.
Fortunately, Ruth was a fastidious person. The stateroom was, he admitted ruefully, in better condition than his own. He returned to the main lounge just in time to see a medical ambulance pull up to the bottom of Cheetah 's ramp. Four burly men got out. Two of them were in the traditional white of the medical profession, but the other two wore civilian clothing and the indefinable air that screamed "Cop".
The med techs slid a stretcher from the ambulance, ignoring the struggles of the figure it carried. One of the cops grabbed a small travel bag and led the others up the ramp. The other brought up the rear. The cheerful, smiling air of the cop in front reminded Cale of Smiley. "We've brought your passenger, Captain," he said in a hearty, friendly tone, "Where do you want her?"
Cale rose to lead the group to the now-empty stateroom. As he had thought, the stretcher contained a thoroughly bound and gagged young woman. Above the gag, her green eyes were narrowed and her face was red with anger. Her brown hair whipped from side to side with her head in impotent fury. Cale told himself he would need to be very careful when releasing this tigress!
The white-coated med techs swiftly and smoothly moved their helpless patient from the stretcher to the bunk, ignoring her struggles and the muffled "umph" when they dropped her on the bed.
"Strap her in good, boys," the cop instructed. "We wouldn't want her to fall out of bed during liftoff!" He laughed loudly at his own joke, and then turned to Cale.
"This bag is her belongings," he said cheerfully, "and here's the releaser for the stickybonds," the man said. "I expect you've been told you're not to release her until you're in space. The same restriction goes for the gag," he continued, "and you should be glad for it. Otherwise she'd bust your eardrums and teach you some cuss words you didn't know!" He laughed heartily again, then he and the other cop followed the med techs down the ramp.
Cale decided that the best course of action was to get off Faith before he attracted any more government attention. "Tess," he asked, "Are we ready to lift?"
"Reprovisioning and fueling are complete, Captain," came the crisp reply. "We can lift as soon as we get clearance and seal hatches."
"Good," he replied, "Let's get out of here before anything else happens!"
He called the control tower and received almost immediate liftoff clearance. Wow, he thought. They really want to get rid of this woman!