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flapblacks."
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Rhonda shivered. "I guess it just feels too much like a magician's trick,"
she said. "Peter creates the illusion that a whole galaxy worth of the
flapblacks are deliberately and actively snubbing her; when really all it is
is a single
Ancient InRed who's been persuaded to hang around her whenever she leaves the
planet. It just seems so fragile, somehow."
"Only because you know how the trick's being performed," I pointed out. "And
because you know that it would only work on a world like Parex where there's a
single spaceport and no more than one ship leaving at any given time." I
shrugged. "Frankly, if there's any magic in this it's that Peter was able to
persuade one of the InReds to cooperate this way in the first place."
"Yes," Rhonda murmured. "It's rather sad, really, having to spend its last few
weeks of life sitting on Chen instead of getting to listen to the Freedom's
Peace's music."
I smiled. "Oh, I don't know. You didn't see what they did to Chen during her
last day in prison. Where were you, by the way?"
"I was working out a deal with Suzenne," Rhonda said, frowning. "What did they
do to her?"
"Nothing much," I said, frowning at her in turn. This was the first I'd heard
of any deal. "They just played one of the InRed's favorite melodies over and
over again on her cell's speaker system. Knowing how my mind does things, I
figure that tune will be spinning around her mind for at least the next month.
What deal?"
"Oh, that's nasty," Rhonda said. "Brilliantly nasty. Gives the Ancient
something to listen to, and probably helps him identify her, too. Your idea?"
"Peter's," I said. "What deal?"
"Oh, it wasn't anything much," she said casually. "You remember how much
Suzenne liked my beadwork? Well, I sold her my entire stock. Beads, hoops,
pattern lists, fasteners, needles, thread, looms, finished items the works."
"Congratulations," I said, feeling obscurely disappointed. After all of that
buildup, I had expected more of a payoff. "She'll be a big hit at their next
formal concert."
"I think so," Rhonda agreed. "She was already talking about getting one of the
fabricators retasked to making a fresh supply of beads."
"Sounds great," I said, frowning. Rhonda, I suddenly noticed, still had a
twinkle in her eye and seemed to be fighting hard to keep from grinning. "So
OK, let's have it."
"Have what?" she asked, clearly determined to drag it out a little more.
"The big punch line," I said. "What did she do, offer you a 50 percent
commission or something?"
"No, of course not," she said. "How in the worlds would I collect on something
like that, anyway? No, I insisted on cash."
Her hand finally came around from behind her back, and I saw now that she was
holding a small wooden box like the kind Bilko kept his poker chips in. "And
that's exactly how she paid," she concluded. "With cash."
I frowned down at the box. It was one of Bilko's poker containers, all right.
Clearly, there was something significant here I was missing. "OK," I said.
"Cash. So?"
Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Cash, Jake. The only kind of cash they use on the
Freedom's Peace...?"
And with a sudden jolt I had it. Cash.
Reaching over, I unlatched the lid and flipped it up. And there they were,
neatly stacked in the velvet padding: a triple row of shiny golden coins.
United
Jovian Habitat dollars, one hundred thirty years old each. A currency that
hadn't been minted since the Habitats were reabsorbed by Earth over a century
ago.
I looked up again at Rhonda. "How many do you have?" I asked, my voice
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quavering slightly.
"Enough," she said quietly. "I checked a couple of numismatic files on Parex,
and it looks like they'll pull in somewhere between a hundred fifty and three
hundred thousand neumarks." Reaching across the table, she pushed the box a
few centimeters toward me. "They're yours."
There are times in every man's life when pride demands he argue. Far past the
end of my financial rope, I knew this wasn't one of them. "Thank you," I said.
"You're welcome," she said. "For all our faults, we're a pretty good crew. It
would be a shame to break a team like this up."
I smiled wryly. "Even Jimmy and his youthful impertinences?"
"Listen, buddy, those youthful impertinences stood up with you against a
member of the Chen-Mellis family," she reminded me tartly. "And whether he's
willing to admit it or not, I think your moral stand back on the Freedom's
Peace impressed him a lot."
"I suppose," I said noncommittally. Still, I had to admit in turn that
Jimmy's willingness to accept my judgment had impressed me, as well.
Not that I was willing to admit it out loud, of course. Not yet, anyway.
"Still, it's sort of a pain. The problem with moral leadership is that you
have to keep being moral for it to do any good. I liked it better when I could
get what I
wanted by yelling at him."
"Yeah, right," she said, patting my hand in a distinctly sarcastic fashion.
"Don't worry, though I'm sure you'll be able to handle it."
She smiled slyly. "I, on the other hand, being a lowly engineer, have no need
of leadership of any sort, moral or otherwise." She tapped a fingernail
against the box of coins. "And I'll tell you right now I intend to take
utterly shameless advantage of you over this."
"Ah," I said, scooting my chair over to the cooler. "So, what, you want me to
serve you a drink?"
"That's a start," she purred. "And then we're going to sit here together, all
nice and cozy, and I'm going to tell you all about the wonderful new engines
you're going to buy for me."
Copyright © 2002 by Timothy Zahn
ISBN: 1-4104-0072-7
Additional copyright information
"Point Man," copyright © 1987 by Timothy Zahn. First published in New
Destinies, vol. 1.
"Hitmen See Murderers," copyright © 1991 by Timothy Zahn. First published in
Amazing Stories, June 1991. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]