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damage had required a replating of half his nose. Central Worlds had insisted
that the cause was his negligence, so it was therefore not a service-incurred
or compensable accident.
"Furthermore, if I opted," Amon went on sourly, "I'd have to take whoever is
up next for assignment with no refusal right."
"That's too true."
"I'm not fat with double bonuses from grateful Nekkarese."
Helva swallowed a fast retort to such an unfair remark and meekly said she
hoped that things would soon look up. Amon wanted a sympathetic listener, not
an adviser.
"You take the advice of one who's been around, Helva," Amon went on, mollified
by her contrition, "and take every solo assignment you can get. Rack up
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bonuses while you can. Then you'll be in a position to bargain. I'm not.
Oh, here he comes!"
"He's in a hurry, too."
"Wonder what lit his jets." Amon sounded so disagreeable that Helva began to
wonder just how much the brawn was at fault. Brain ships were people, too.
Just then, Helva could her the brawn's excited greeting over the open
ship-to-ship band.
"Amon, man, get us cleared and lifted. We got to get back to Regulus
Base on the double. I just heard ..."
The band went dead.
It was so like Amon to be selfish with good news, too, that Helva did not take
offense. Good luck to him, she thought as she turned on the outside scanners
and watched him lift off. If he did get a good assignment and the delivery
bonus, he could pay off his debt. He might even resolve most of his problems
with his brawn. The man had seemed nice enough when he'd paid a courtesy call
on Kira and herself the day they arrived at Nekkar. But it was petty of him
Helva thought ... If the brawn had heard, the news could not come via tight
beam.
"Nekkar Control, XH-834 calling."
"Helva? Had my hand on the switch to call you. Our ground crew treating you
right? Anything you want them to do, you just let 'em know," answered the
affable com man.
Considering Nekkar's recent disaster, you'd think they'd be as sour as
Amon.
"I was wondering if you could tell me why the TA-618 left in such a hurry."
"Say, yes, that's something, isn't it? Never know who's around in the next
system over, do you? I always said, a galaxy's got room for all kinds.
But who'd ever think people ... I guess you could call 'em people ... would
want any old archaic plays. Can you imagine that?" and infuriatingly the com
man chuckled.
Amon had problems knowing ahead of time what his man'd say? Helva thought,
impatiently waiting for this jovial soul to say anything worth listening to.
"Well, not really, because you haven't told me what you heard yet,"
Helva cut in as the man seemed likely to continue editorializing.
"Oh, sorry. Thought you ships'd all have your ears ... oh, pardon the slip ...
to the rumor-block. Well, now, generally my sources are very reliable and this
came to me from two sources, as I was telling Pilot Trace. A survey ship out
Beta Corvi way registered some regulated-energy emissions. Pinpointed them to
the sixth planet which had ... of all improbabilities ... a methane-ammonia
atmosphere. Never heard of any sentients before developing in
that kind of environment, have you?"
"No. Please go on."
"Well, before the crew could get an exploratory probe treated to withstand
that kind of air; ha, ha, air, that's good."
"Consider that what we breathe might be poisonous to them," Helva suggested.
"Oh, true, too true. Any rate, before the crew could shake a leg, the
Corviki had probed them. What do you think of that?"
"Fascinating. I'm hanging on your words."
"Well, those Survey men are on their toes, I'll tell you. Didn't let an
opportunity like this slip from their grasp. Offered to exchange scientific
information with the Beta Corviki and invited them to join the Central Worlds
Federation. Say," and the man paused to think, "how'd the survey know they
were high enough on the Civ-scale to qualify right off if they hadn't even got
a probe down to the surface of the planet?"
"If the Beta Corviki could contact our survey ship, and if they are fooling
around with regulated-energy emissions detectable outside their solar system,
we might not qualify on their Civ-scale."
"Oh. Hadn't looked at it from that angle." The man's resilience was
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incredible, for he paused only briefly before taking up again. "Well, we have
something they want badly," and he sounded as pleased as if he had himself
invented this commodity. "Plays!"
"Plays?"
"That's right. Guess it'd be hard to develop any art forms on a
methane-ammonia planet. At any rate, the story is that they will exchange some
energy-process of theirs that we need for our old plays."
"New lamps for old?" Helva murmured.
"How's that?"
"That doesn't explain why the TA shot out of here so fast."
"Oh, well, that's easy. Calls are going out all over the sector for you ships
to report in. Say, you being the ship who sings and all, this ought to be
right up your alley."
"Possibly," Helva temporized. "But I'm due to be assigned a new brawn partner
and they woudn't send a green team out on a mission of this importance."
"You mean, you don't want it? Trace said there was a triple bonus attached
that any ship in its right mind would fight for."
"I am in my right mind but there is something else more important to me than a
triple bonus."
The com man's silence was more eloquent than any cliche he could utter.
Fortunately the tight-beam channel warmed up and Helva excused herself to open
her end of it.
The transmission began with a mission code, so she flipped on the recorder and
monitored the message.
She was directed to proceed immediately to Duhr III, en route to Regulus
Base. She was to receive four official passengers at the University Spaceport,
Lock No. 24, and proceed with no further delay to base.
"If those were orders, ma'am," the com man said when she returned to his
channel, "I can give you instant clearance."
"Not quite yet, pal. I've got to pick up some passengers and I'm not going to
go looking like a tramp ship. You did say that if there was anything
I wanted ..."
"Yes, yes, and we mean it," the Nekkarese assured her.
So Helva flashed toward Duhr in, at speeds no human passenger could have
endured, with holds and cabins gleaming and fresh, and bunks for full-sized
humans placed where cradles for hundreds of embryos had recently swung.
She had borne in mind Amon's sour comments and prevailed upon the willing
foreman to make certain judicious chemical additions to the standard paints.
The soft greens in the pilot's cabin had been impregnated with pumice from
Thuban, so that by changing light-tones, she could alter the shade enough to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]