Throy Page 11

  “Count yourself fortunate,” said Glawen drily. “Bodwyn Wook would put you to breaking rocks at Cape Journal.”

  “Bodwyn-Wook is a chancre on the sensitive parts of Progress,” muttered Kathcar. “All the same, I would prefer to live on Cadwal, where I could help direct the new order – but I suspect that I would never be safe.” Kathcar suddenly remembered his dread of assassination. He raised his head and searched around the plaza, now bright in the pale yellow light of Mazda. Back and forth marched the citizens of Soumjiana, the men in loose pantaloons gathered under the knee, full jackets over white shirts with loose wide collars. The women wore long-sleeved blouses and full skirts; like the men they carried themselves with prideful rectitude.

  “Look!” cried Kathcar. He pointed to a heroic black iron statue at the center of the plaza commemorating Cornelis Pameijer, one of the early explorers. To the side of the pedestal, a Lemurian sausage seller had set up his grill; here stood Julian Bohost, glumly munching bread and sausages.

  * * *

  Chapter 3, Part III

  Glawen, Chilke and Kathcar left the plaza and walked along the Promenade of Strong Women to a cab-rank. Glawen told Kathcar: “Here we will take our leave of you.”

  Kathcar jerked his head back in surprise. “What? So soon? We have made no plans for the future!”

  “True. What sort of plans did you have in mind?”

  Kathcar made a gesture, to indicate that the range of topics was almost boundless. “Nothing is settled. So far I have evaded my enemies, but you have forced me into the open, where I am vulnerable.”

  Glawen smiled. “Be brave, Kathcar! you are no longer in danger.”

  “Indeed?” rasped Kathcar. “Why do you say so?”

  “We left Julian eating a sausage. He looked to be in a bad mood, but he was alone, and not conspiring to kill you, as he might if he knew you were near.”

  “He might find out at any minute.”

  “In that case, the sooner you leave the better, and far is better than near.”

  Chilke said: “At this moment take a cab to the spaceport, board the first packet out to Diogenes Junction on Clarence Attic, at the base of the Wisp. Once you walk across the terminal and mix into the crowds, you’ll be lost forever.”

  Kathcar scowled. “That is a cheerless prospect.”

  “Still, it is our best advice,” said Glawen. ‘“It has been a pleasant association. we all have profited, and even Overman Vambold seemed happy.”

  Kathcar grunted. “There is nothing to be gained by citing grievances or inveighing against injustice; am I right in this?”

  “Quite right, especially since you have fared better than you deserved.”

  “That is a faulty interpretation of the facts!” declared Kathcar.

  “In any case, we will now say good-by.”

  Kathcar still hesitated. “In all honesty, I am now having second thoughts about the future. It might be to our mutual advantage if I joined you on your quest. As you know, I am both able and astute.”

  Glawen, glancing aside, noted Chilke’s bland expression. He said: “Impossible, I fear. We are not authorized to enlist civilian operatives, no matter how skillful. You would need the standard Bureau B clearance.”

  Kathcar’s face fell. “If I were to return to Araminta Station and offer my services - how would I be received?”

  Chilke gave his head a dubious shake. “If you died, you might persuade Bodwyn Wook to dance on your grave.”

  Glawen said: “If you report what you know about the gunships, I imagine that you will be treated politely, or even rewarded.”

  Kathcar remained skeptical. “I do not indulge in romantic daydreams, nor do I expect rewards from that niggardly little goblin.”

  “When you deal with Bodwyn Wook, tact is important,” said Chilke. “It is a knack you must learn.”

  “I treat him as if he were a reasonable man. I expect him to respond to logic.”

  “Very well,” said Glawen. “I will write a letter which you may deliver to Egon Tamm.”

  Kathcar said grudgingly: “That will be useful. Do not, if you please, mention the twenty-five thousand sols. It is never in good taste to flaunt one’s financial status.”

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  Chapter 4, Part I

  The Fortunatus measured sixty-five feet from stem to stern. A large saloon, galley, three double cabins, storeroom and utility room occupied the top deck, with a companionway leading three steps down to the control cupola. Below were engine room, dynamics, crew’s quarters, further storage and utility rooms. The exterior skin had been enameled white, with black delineators and dark red bands around the squat over-size sponsons, which in the upper ranges of the Fortunatus line, were integral with the hull.

  The space yacht exceeded the most optimistic expectations of both Glawen and Chilke. “I can find no fault with Julian’s taste,” said Glawen. “I’m afraid that this episode will cause him a great deal of sorrow.”

  “Especially with Sir Denzel paying all the charges. I like the sensation myself.”

  “By rights, the title should be half in your name.”

  “It makes no great difference, one way or the other,” said Chilke. “They’ll take it away from us as soon as we get back to the Station.”

  Glawen heaved a sad sigh. “I expect you are right.”

  The two sat in the saloon, drinking tea. Astern the yellow sun Mazda shone like a bright golden coin, growing fainter by the hour. Ahead, still lost along the glittering track of the Wisp, was Gilbert’s Green Star.

  Kathcar had been left at the Soumjiana spaceport, though he had again professed a willingness to join the quest. Again Glawen had declined the offer. “The offices at Zaster will probably have all the information we need.”

  Kathcar pulled at his long white chin. “But will they release this information?”

  “Why not? We carry official credentials.”

  “Credentials won’t help a twitch if it should come to negotiation.”

  Glawen shrugged. “l hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “The time to start thinking is today,” said Kathcar. “Tomorrow you might find yourself knee-deep in complications.”

  Glawen was puzzled. “What sort of complications?”

  “Is it not clear? Barduys, though dour and rigid, is rational. You may, however, also be dealing with the inscrutable Flitz. These discussions will be delicate, and here is where I come into my own - where a single glance is worth a dozen contracts.”

  “We can only do our best,” said Glawen.

  He took a sheet of paper from his case and began a brief letter to Egon Tamm, in which he described Kathcar as “... a person of intelligence and resource, capable of creative thinking.” He wrote on to say, “Kathcar claims to have dissolved all connection with the LPF. He will describe to you our successful confiscation of LPF funds. He has been helpful in this operation. He states that your recent speeches, as well as increasing venality among the LPF have persuaded him to make a clean break with the organization. Both Commander Chilke and I feel that Rufo Kathcar may be useful at Araminta Station in a job suitable to his qualifications.”

  Kathcar read the letter with raised eyebrows. “It is not precisely fulsome. Still, it is better than nothing, or so I believe.”

  Glawen now addressed letters to Bodwyn Wook and his father Scharde, describing events at Soumjiana and calling attention to the presence of the Straidor-Ferox gunships somewhere on Throy. He also wrote Wayness a letter, and promised another from Zaster on Yaphet.

  Kathcar went off to the ticket counter and secured passage back to Cadwal aboard the Tristram Tantalux, which fortuitously would be departing on the morrow. In the interim, he would keep to his room in the terminal hotel.

  Glawen and Chilke returned aboard the Fortunatus, set the coordinates of Gilbert’s Green Star into the autopilot and departed Soum.

  * * *

  Chapter 4, Part II
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  In discussing Gilbert’s Green Star, many cosmologists dismissed the unusual green tint as an illusion, stating that the star was actually iridescent white or perhaps ice-blue. They changed their minds only when they saw Gilbert’s star for themselves. The color was most often attributed to heavy-metal ions in the stellar atmosphere: an opinion to which the spectroscope gave equivocal support.

  Eleven planets attended Gilbert’s Green star, of which only Yaphet, the eighth, supported human settlement.

  Few tourists visited Yaphet, for the best of reasons: there was nothing here to amuse them, except the spectacle of a people intent upon living at their fullest potential.

  The landscapes of Yaphet lacked interest; the native flora consisted mainly of marsh-pod, algae and a drab bamboo-like shrub known as ‘scruff.’ The fauna had been pronounced ‘graceless and furtive, insufferably dull’ by the great botanist Considerio, who made a virtue of passionless detachment had found something to celebrate even in the short-tailed lizards of Tex Wyndham’s planet.

  Yaphet’s climate was temperate; the topography undramatic and the population clean, careful and moral. Commercial travellers and the occasional tourists were housed in neat hostels, decorated in psychologically correct colors. They dined upon foods which were uniformly nutritious and exactly metered to the needs of the individual diner. Beverages of choice were always offered: barley water, both hot and cold; chilled whey and properly filtered fruit juice.

  The city Zaster over the years had become an important industrial and financial node, where all the large concerns maintained representation.

  From a directory Glawen and Chilke learned that the L-B Offices were housed in the Excelsis Tower. Exiting onto the street a porter gave them further directions. “Straight yonder, sirs! About two miles along Boulevard Nine, a fine pink and black structure: pink and black signifying zeal and honor, of course, but being off-worlders, you would not be likely to know the scheme.”

  “Is there public transportation? Or should we take a cab?”

  The porter laughed. “Sirs! A cab for two miles? It’s only a nice little canter of ten or fifteen minutes!”

  “Of course, but as it happens my colleague’s leg hurts, so we must ride.”

  “The gentleman is hurt? A pity! It brings foreboding to all of us! Invalid transfer will be here at once!”

  A moment later a white vehicle appeared; the porter and the driver helped Chilke to a seat with great solicitude.

  “Take good care of that knee, sir!” the porter admonished Chilke. “Running comes hard to a one-legged man!”

  “True enough!” Chilke agreed. “I was a great acrobat, but I fear my career is at an end! Still, I will rest the leg - both legs, in fact - as much as possible.”

  “That is the answer! And good health to you!”

  The invalid wagon took Glawen and Chilke along Boulevard Nine among streams of men and women running to where they planned to take their noon meals.

  The invalid wagon drew up in front of the pink and black Excelsis Tower, and Chilke was helped to alight. “The offices are sure to be closed,” the driver told them, “but there is a fine restaurant just yonder where you may take your lunch.”

  Glawen and Chilke crossed to the Old King Tut, where a sign assured them that only extra-nutritious ingredients were used under absolutely hygienic conditions. In the entry they were offered towels damp with antiseptic fluids, and following the example of others, carefully wiped their hands and face, then went into the restaurant proper. They were fed a meal of unfamiliar substances with odd textures and flavors. A sign on the wall read: “Please call our attention to your slightest dissatisfaction, whereupon the Chief Dietician will appear and explain in unforgettable terms the synergistic concepts behind her preparations, and make it clear why every mouthful must be carefully chewed and swallowed.”

  Glawen and Chilke ingested as much as possible, then departed the restaurant hurriedly before someone should call them back to make them eat their fortified curd and their seaweed with ginger.

  L-B Construction Company occupied the tenth floor of the Excelsis Tower. The lift discharged Glawen and Chilke into a reception area, decorated and furnished in spartan style, with a counter along the back wall. The other walls displayed large photographs of construction sites and projects in various stages of completion. Behind the counter stood a brisk young man wearing an immaculate white blouse with blue stripes down the sleeves and trousers striped white and blue. A plaque on the counter read:

  TECHNICIAN ON DUTY:

  T. JORNE

  “Sirs, how may I help you?” asked Jorne.

  “We have just arrived from off-world. We have some business with Lewyn Barduys and were told that we might find him here.”

  “You have missed him by a week,” said Jorne. “Mr. Barduys is not on the premises.”

  “That is a pity! Our business is urgent. Where can we find him?”

  Jorne shook his head. “No one has troubled to inform me.”

  A tall young woman entered the room on buoyant strides. Her shoulders were square; her loins were sheathed with powerful muscles; like Jorne she displayed every aspect of exuberant salubrity. Jorne cried out: “Ah, Obadah! There you are, at last! Where did you lunch?”

  “I tried the Old Common, which is four miles out along the Way of the Underwood.”

  “A bit too far for lunch, perhaps, although I have heard great things of their glutens! However, to business! These gentlemen wish to speak with Mr. Barduys, but I could not help them. Do you know his present place of sojourn?”

  “No, but let me find Signatus; he usually keeps all such facts at his fingertips.” Obadah ran from the room.

  Jorne told Glawen: “Please be patient; she will only be a few moments, though Signatus is never where you expect to find him.”

  Glawen joined Chilke, who had been studying the photographs which hung along the walls: dams, bridges, structures of various sorts. Chilke stood rapt before the photograph of an enormous crane overhanging a chasm, its magnitude emphasized, by the six human figures in the foreground. Glawen asked: “What do you find so enthralling?”

  Chilke indicated the photograph. “That appears to be a very deep chasm.”

  “So it does.”

  Of the persons depicted, the nearest at hand was a middle-aged man of strong solid physique, close-cropped brown hair, narrow grey eyes, a short straight nose. The face expressed nothing in particular except possibly a hint of obduracy, or - more exactly - a conviction of purpose. Glawen said: “The man with the steel teeth is Lewyn Barduys. I met him at Riverview House about a year ago. As I recall, he did not have much to say.”

  Along with Barduys, the photograph included a pair of local dignitaries, two engineers and Flitz, standing somewhat to the side. She wore tan trousers, a dark blue pullover and a soft hat of white cloth. Like Barduys, her expression was neutral, but where Barduys’ gaze conveyed alertness and even a trace of vigilance, Flitz seemed indifferent.

  Chilke said: “I assume that there, in front of my eyes, stands the legendary Flitz?”

  “Which one?”

  “The female.”

  “Yes, that is Flitz.”

  Obadah returned. “I found Signatus. You will never guess where he was lurking!”

  “In Tool Research?”

  “In Materials Inventory, and you can guess why!”

  “Of course, but what did he have to tell you?”

  “Signatus knows everything! He informs me that Mr. Barduys has gone to the world Rhea, by Tyr Gog in Pegasus. We have just finished a big job -” “Of course! The Scaime Bridge!” “- and Mr. Barduys wanted to be on hand for the dedication.”

  Chilke asked, “And Flitz: she is there too?”

  “Of course; why not? She is nominally his travelling secretary, but who knows what is what and what is not?”

  “Aha!” said Chilke. “So rumors are rife?”

  Jorne grinned. “l would not credit mere whispers – but when fa
ct after fact points to the north and a loud noise is heard from this direction, only a lummox runs out into the road and looks south. Am I right?”

  “Comprehensively!”

  Jorne went on to say, “I myself have noticed her decisiveness. Sometimes it seems as if she were running the company, while Mr. Barduys stands aside and broods. Of course she is intelligent and solves problems at a glance.”

  “Hm,” said Chilke. “She does not look like a mathematician, or an engineer.”

  “Make no mistake; she is neither moony nor is she frail, despite her rather slight skeletal structure. Clearly, though, she lacks stamina and I, for one, would not choose her as tandem for the Hundred-mile Dash. You can see for yourself how she lacks power in the haunch. Obadah, step over here a moment!”

  “I am not going to show the gentlemen my haunch.”

  “As you like.” Jorne turned back to the photograph. “Regardless of physical deficiency, she and Sir Barduys seem to maintain a good and sensible relationship; after all, they work long hours together. Let us be tolerant; a fine rib cage and dynamic pectorals are not the only things in life!”

  “Poor Barduys!” said Chilke. “He leads a hard life, with all those projects and no one to help but the unfortunate Flitz.”

  Jorne frowned. “I had never thought of it in quite that way!”

  “Thank you for your help,” said Glawen. “One last question: you remember that Barduys used Yip laborers from Cadwal?”

  “I recall something of the sort. That was several years ago.”

  “By any chance do you keep on file the names of these laborers?”

  “It is possible. I can find out in an instant.” Jorne worked the controls of an information system. “Yes! The information is here!”