Redline the Stars

13

It took time to shake the chill Ali's dark prediction had put on her, but Canuche Town's huge outdoor market proved to be an effective antidote. Rael Cofort's eyes were bright as she surveyed the long aisles of booths and less permanent stands and open tables filled with items being offered for sale or exchange. The capital boasted enclosed facilities as , well, of course, but those were not designed to draw small Free Traders seeking to supply themselves for a venture among the primitive planets and struggling colonies of the rim.

There was more than enough out here to meet their needs and give delight. She loved prowling around a big market, and this time she was going to be allowed to do some buying for stock, albeit under discreet but definite supervision.

She would look over the gems, certainly, she decided at once, but so much else was available that she resolved to do a quick inspection to see precisely just what was being shown. The mix of goods here had never been the same on any visit she had made to Canuche of Halio. She smiled again. Besides, it was fun to look.

Canuche was a thoroughly civilized industrial planet, and so the din, the intriguing, not always entirely pleasant odors, the basic strangenesSyof an alien or primitive mart were missing here, but it was an interesting place for all

that.

Findings and setters were settled beside the long rows of loose gems, and next to them stood the stands of those selling finished jewelry. Fabrics and the trimmings, tools, and machines required to turn them into completed products were in another area along with clothing. Food supplies and the equipment to prepare them formed yet another section, and large industrial products, chiefly represented by salespeople supplied with illustrative samples, tapes, and literature, formed a major portion of the complex. Only the prepared food stalls broke the pattern of grouping like with like. They Were scattered throughout the huge field so that patrons would not be forced to leave their areas of interest to find refreshment.

Rael drew in and held a deep breath. The aroma of cooking was everywhere, wonderfully tempting although she had eaten only half an hour before. She wondered how Dane Thorson was responding to those beckoning fingers of scent. He could stow food as if he had cargo holds in both of his legs, and this stuff was real. That alone made even the worst of it infinitely desirable to a space hound.

"Let's cut past the cloth booths," she suggested since the lead had been given to her. She had no interest in the finished clothing; Van Rycke already had a full stock of such goods. The fabrics were another matter. Brocades and faux gold and silver cloth rarely failed to interest the wealthier classes and individuals among primitive buyers, and good quality, attractive material could be counted upon to attract attention and customers on most Federation planets, especially when it was blessed with the added allure of being an import. The Queen already had a good supply, but Canuche's market had been particularly good for textiles on each of her previous visits, and they might well run across something. There were other freighters in port, and some of them might be trying to sell off part of such a cargo.

"Rael! Rael Cofort!"

The woman turned quickly. "Deke!" Her voice dropped.

"Deke Tatarcoff of the Black Hole," she explained to her companions. "He's been a rival and a damn good friend of Teague's for years. Do you mind ..."

"Space, no!" Jellico told her. "A Free Trader does not- ignore his friends or fail to make the acquaintance of a potential ally." He also did not neglect an opportunity to size up potential competition.

The Solar Queen party walked over to the covered stand the other spacer had rented to display his wares.

Miceal studied the other Trader. Tatarcoff was short and stocky with a breadth of chest that bespoke some Martian ancestry. His eyes were brown, sharp and steady in their expression. His features were pleasant but well schooled;

they would betray little he did not want to have read.

He was doing well, the Solar Queen's Captain judged by the quality of his uniform and accoutrements and by the thick, three-inch-wide gold luck band circling his left wrist. Just the fact that he had rented an enclosed stall, and a large one at that, was evidence of prosperity.

"What's Trade's brightest star doing on Canuche?" Ta- tarcoff asked when they were in comfortable speaking range.

She laughed. "Put it on freeze, Deke," she told him. "I'm on my own. The Roving Star's not here. I'm serving with the Solar Queen. — This is Jellico, Van Rycke, and Thorson. Captain, Cargo-Master, and Cargo-apprentice respectively."

Even as the introductions were being made, Rael was studying the Trader's stock. It was mostly amotton, she observed, nicely woven in a variety of pastel solids and stripes well suited to the extremely light fabric.

"You folks interested?" Deke inquired. "I'll make you a good deal."

She shook her head. "Sorry, Deke. We've got all we need.

This is lovely, though. It'll move well here."

Well and quickly, she judged. The fabric, a natural fiber from Amon, breathed like a second skin and felt as if it had no weight at all. Those were highly desirable characteristics on a world with summers as blisteringly hot as most of Canuche of Halio had to endure. These bolts were sure to catch the eye of the big garment manufacturers. In point of fact, she was more than certain that a few of their reps were even now evaluating Deke's store from a discreet distance.

Her eyes drifted over the carefully stacked bolts at the rear of the stand. She fixed suddenly on a patch of intense blue. "Oh," she breathed unconsciously in pure delight.

Tatarcoff looked at what had caught her attention and smiled. "Leave it to you to spot that. It's worthy of you, too," he added as he fetched down the examination length for her party to see. "It suits you considerably better than it probably will whoever finally takes it."

She nodded her thanks. That was a compliment and a statement of the fabric's value, not a sales lure. Tatarcoff knew that no Free Trader could afford the likes of this, not for personal use. Even her brother could not have justified that expense.

Rael found herself gazing down at an incredible, seemingly infinite mingling of blues and blue-violets in a shimmering field as soft as a cloud might seem to be in a dream of wonder. "Thornen silk?"

"Aye. One of my tubes gave out, and I had to planet there. I managed to pick this up in exchange for the finest sunstone I've ever seen come honestly on a rim market."

There was no regret in his tone. He would make that expense good twice over when he did sell the bolt. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and if was rare.

Thorne of Brandine had given rise to a highly advanced human population independently ofTerran seeding. Their planet-wide society had been pre-space when discovered and was still basically anti-mech, but it was complex, well developed, and heavily oriented toward their version of Trade. As befitted such a populace, they were ruled by a network of hereditary merchant princes owing ultimate allegiance to an official they called the Doge.

They also had very little liking for the presence of off- worlders and less still for alien ways. They permitted the existence of a full spaceport to serve as a refuge for ships coming into trouble in the nearby starlanes, but they had only minimal intercourse with spacers, visitors or those running the complex. The planet was completely self-sufficient and preferred to remain so.

The rulers had a good eye for business, that notwithstanding, and they fully appreciated the value of their luxury goods, particularly their textiles. They would permit no steady trade that might grow too important, too essential to their economy, but they made occasional sales to keep Federation markets aware of their products and hungry for them. Always, they worked with individual Free Traders rather than Company ships and absolutely refused to accept any off-world agreements that would limit their choice of markets. Because their decision whether to trade among the stars or sell to their own kind was completely free and because their products were so eminently desirable, they had the power to dictate their will in the matter.

Neither Deke nor any other independent freighter Captain complained about that even if it did mean that the surplanetary merchants held a fully charged blaster in their dealings with off-worlders. Without that liberty of action, no Free Trader would ever get a crack at any of those prize cargoes. The Companies would have Thorne of Brandine locked in tighter than any space seal.

The woman sighed with regret as Tatarcoff started to fold the length again. She stole a glance at Van Rycke and saw the same hunger on him. He, too, longed to have the beautiful cloth and had no love for the reason that decreed that the Queen could not afford to sink that much capital into what was in actuality a single item, one that, given their current plans, would be singularly hard for them to place if they did acquire it.

"Good fortune with it, Deke," she said sincerely, "though I think you'll be sorry to see it go. I know I would be."

"So I shall," he admitted. "It won't be for a while, at least. This won't move until I planet on Hedon again. I'm not letting it go for less than it's worth."

Van Rycke's brow raised. "There're credits enough right here. Any of the major industrialists could take that bolt."

"They could, but they won't, not that lot. — You've never been on Canuche before?"

"No. The Queen's pretty much new to this Sector apart from the Trewsworld-Riginni mail run."

"Well, the veeps here aren't old money or flying on school prestige and secondhand knowledge. Nearly every one of them came up through the ranks in his particular industry or via the prospector's route. They're capable, tough, and, since they've earned them the hard way, they appreciate the value of their credits. They may like luxury and its brag value as much as the next one, but reason rules, and it'd just about take a supernova on their office desks to get them to step beyond its bounds for an extravagant toy like this."

Rael's fingers caressed the silk. She glanced over her shoulder. The market had grown more crowded in the short time they had been at the stand, but many of the same people she had noticed earlier were still studying it. Most were laborers or the owners or representatives of small businesses looking for a length of material or a few lengths at most, but several had that air of importance every Trader comes to recognize, be it in a tribal chieftain, government official, military officer, or industrial tycoon or manager. Those individuals had the power and means to buy and buy big. "Deke," she asked softly, "will you trust me with this?"

"Aye," he responded, surprised.

"Let me play with it a while."

"Have at it."

"How long is it?"

"Three yards."

"Perfect." The size of a major veil. Her plan would work if she knew anything at all of human nature.

The Medic straightened. Her rib cage arched slowly, with infinite precision, as each muscle of her body obeyed the command of her will. The motion was subtle, seemingly almost nonexistent and certainly indefinable to anyone trying to classify or describe its individual components, but the close-fitting uniform shimmered sensuously even as her bones appeared to dissolve in a rippling swaying, as if in response to the light motion of the air.

As her body followed the strange rhythm directing its movements, her fingers closed on either end of the silk panel, and in that instant, it swept, wafted, into the air.

Up it swirled, glistening in the glory of Hallo's light, held a breath's space on high, and swooped down again to envelop the woman as she slowly turned with it.

Again, the Thornen veil swept out. It seemed no independent thing but rather part of she who controlled it, even as together they appeared to be an exquisite extension of the light and air in which they flowed.

Mfceal Jellico tore his eyes away from the apparition to study those around them. Van Rycke, too, had recalled himself to the world of the market, but the others were fully ensorcelled. Rael's performance was so unexpected in a place like this and so perfectly executed, the material so marvelous in itself, that nearly every eye in the vicinity was riveted on her as if by the command of some irresistible compulsion.

Three times and again a fourth, the veil rose to fill the air, then with a sigh and a lowering of the head as precise and perfect as the vision preceding them, Rael closed it in upon itself and returned it to its owner.

In so doing, she released her captives. Tatarcoff recovered nearly as quickly as the Queen's senior officers and claimed it from her with a proprietary pride. His eyes were on the several individuals making purposefully for his stand.

"I knew you'd approve, Rael," he remarked for his potential customers' benefit.

"It's wonderful. I envy the one with the spirit and credits to buy it," she responded, her voice seemingly low but in actuality pitched to reach those who were approaching.

"Fly well, Deke. I hope we'll run into each other again before we lift."

The Solar Queen party went some distance before Jellico gave a sharp glance at his temporary hand.

She was laughing softly but stopped and looked up at

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him when she felt his gaze. "I love doing that," she ex-

plained, "and I so rarely get the chance. Teague doesn't approve."

"Of Ibis dancing?"

She was not surprised the Trader Captain had recognized what she had done. "Of using it or similar techniques to enhance one's goods. He doesn't think it's quite the most respectable way of doing business."

"It was effective," he said, "and you made no false claims. Thornen silk is beautiful. You merely . . ." He

paused a moment. "You merely spun it into a dream."

"It's up to Tatarcoffto sell that dream," the Cargo-Master interjected, "though he'd have to have a crater instead of a brain not to do it now. Everyone back there wants it."

"Deke's good," she assured them. "He'll move the silk and probably most or all the rest with it."

"You moved it for him," Dane said, forcing himself to speak naturally. He was embarrassed by the spell Cofort's performance had cast on him. A Trader, particularly part of the Cargo department, had to be able to keep his wits on his

surroundings and business.

If the others said anything, now or later, so be it, he thought. He deserved no more after that lapse. In the meantime, walking around as dumb as a lump of inert matter would do no one, especially himself, any good. He was curious about the magic Rael Cofort had wrought—and magic it had been, Trader magic rather than the kind that so intrigued Tau. Van Rycke was one of the best, and he had not seen even him use anything the like of this . . .

"No," the Medic responded slowly. "Thomen silk itself requires no selling. Better simply doesn't exist. That bolt is

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such a patent extravagance here, though, quintessential luxury beyond anything required for any conceivable occasion on a planet like Canuche of Halio, no matter how formal. It was bound to be admired, but to lift the idea of actually purchasing it out of the realm of insanity, I had to waken the hunger for beauty, the ideal of beauty, that lies buried in every normal human soul."

"You succeeded," Jellico said, an obvious understatement in the face of the number of determined people who had pushed in around Tatarcoffs stand even as his party had left it.

She gave him a sharp look. "There are no objections, I hope?"

"None. We're not competing, not on this run anyway, and if the locals buy from one Free Trader, they'll be more inclined to patronize the rest of us as well." His eyes rested pensively on her. "You were selling more than Deke Tatarcoffs silk back there."

"That's part of the purpose of this excursion, isn't it?" she countered evenly. "I'm supposed to be displaying my skill in handling the various aspects of Trade, am I not?"

"You are. You've shown some strange talents, Rael Cofort. I'm curious to test the extent of them."

"Test away. Captain Jellico," she responded lightly. "I think you won't find me wanting, nor, perhaps, the scope of my abilities so readily fathomed as you seem to imagine, either."

14

The off-worlders paused to examine several more displays but were not tempted to make a purchase until they were nearly ready to quit that part of the market. A metallic glitter on the foremost table of one of the large booths caught Van Rycke's eye. Even from a distance of several feet, he could see that it was a synthetic cloth of silver netting, exquisitely complex and extraordinarily fine.

He touched Dane's arm. "Give that a look over. If it seems worth it, make an offer."

The Cargo-apprentice nodded and stepped briskly toward the booth, taking care to conceal from both the Canu- chean merchant and his own companions the considerable trepidation with which he viewed the assignment. True,

his chief had been giving him an ever-increasing amount of responsibility, but the transactions he had thus far initiated had been small and straightforward, all of them concerned with minor outfitting of the starship. This was much larger in scope and was for Trade itself. It would also involve real bargaining, or it would if he did not blow it the first time he opened his mouth.

The Canuchean displayed the examination length of the silver netting with a grand flourish, all the while extolling its beauty and virtues as enthusiastically as if it were the genuine article straight out of Siren's far-famed mills.

Once his litany of praise ended, however, he eyed Thor- son's brown uniform as if in askance. "We deal chiefly in credits on Canuche," he said doubtfully.

Dane declared that the SoJar Queen intended to pay by that means. He saw the flash of greed glint in the other's eyes and set himself for battle. Specie or specie credit was always the preferred method of payment on any Federation planet, and the merchant was going to attempt to secure as much as he could.

It was the apprentice's job, on the other hand, to minimize what the Queen had to lay out. Straight credits, being more desirable than an exchange of goods or services, were

also more valuable. They generally bought more as a result, and Thorson was determined that those entrusted to him should do so. He held to his role as a prospective purchaser interested but by no means overwhelmed by the proffered goods and most assuredly in no desperate need of them. In the end, after much discussion, he succeeded in shaving off an 8 percent discount for the Queen and then heaped

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another 2 percent on top of it as a bulk order bonus for taking all twelve bolts available.

"Not bad at all," Van Rycke gloated when they were out of sight and earshot of the booth. "The youngster's beginning to show a little promise. I don't know if I'd have had the nuggets to demand a bulk discount for a dozen bolts of cloth."

"A nice move," the Captain agreed, "but do we need twelve bolts?"

"It'll sell," Jan assured him. "Some primitive society will go for it, and it's absolutely stellar quality. If that cloth was real silver, we could take it anywhere in the inner systems."

"We still can," Dane interjected. "Those planets tend to enjoy greater wealth and luxury than the outer and rim worlds, but there are plenty of very ordinary people working away on all of them. They can't afford clothes spun out of precious metals, but those conscious of fashion will grab a good synthetic. If we aren't planning a trip in there ourselves in the near future, we'll be encountering ships like the Black Hole that are. Any one of them'd be glad to pick up some of this in exchange for goods we'll find more immediately useful."

"I agree," Rael said, "but I don't think you'll have to trade any of it off. You'll sell, and you won't have to leave the outer systems to do it. A dozen bolts wouldn't be anything to a large manufacturer. It could go even faster in individual sales in a fairly big town, much less in a city. Aphrodite comes to mind at once. So does Sultana, which might actually be your best bet if you can swing in that far.

The teachers there'd jump at this for use in training, al-

1

though, of course, they won't bring anything fake into the temples."

"Hera's even closer," Dane suggested. "According to

Mara's notes, the priestesses there love glitter. They sew and paste mirrors and all sorts of beads and pieces of metal and strips of lace on their robes. They should go for this

like a drowning man for oxygen."

"True enough, and as you so sagely point out, Hera's close by."

Thorson's head lifted in gratification at his chiefs ready

acceptance of the viability of his suggestion. He did not see the look of pride that accompanied it. That was an extremely obscure bit of information, a one-line margin note jotted down as a reminder on an old reorder list. Van Rycke had not recalled it himself, although he doubtless would have done so before long, and he was pleased that his fledgling, who had obviously been studying the files, had

beaten him to it.

With the business of the cloth's potential saleability settled, the Cargo-Master felt at liberty to address another matter whetting his curiosity. His blue eyes flickered in Cofort's direction. "Speaking of Sultana, Doctor, I'm wondering how you've managed to pick up her most cherished

art form."

She smiled. "I first saw her Ibis dancers when I was eight

years old. It was love at first sight. I'd always detested sports, and even then I thought formal exercise a galactic- class bore, necessary to maintain health and muscle tone, perhaps, but a waste of time, plentiful as that is in space. This beautiful, complex dance was different. I wanted it, and I was determined to learn how to perform it.

Retlline the Stars 129

"1 bought every tape and book my credits would allow and pestered my father for more, then I secretly worked with them, deciphering and copying the moves as best I could. I'd made such progress by the time he finally caught me at it that he sought to arrange for lessons for me the next time we planeted on Sultana, which was a regular port on our trade route. I was good enough that his request was

granted."

"He was damned lucky you didn't disappear," Miceal

told her bluntly. "Those people worship beauty. You must

have had that even then, and you were a dancer, besides."

She shook her head. "To them, I was the ultimate tragedy. I had the talent to dance, but it was stillborn. I had come to it far too late. Sultanites literally begin preliminary training when they're six months old. Their parents start giving them coordination exercises af that age. They encouraged me to continue all the same because they, their teachers, recognized that my love for their art is genuine.

"I'm fully aware of my limitations. I'd never be allowed on any temple floor, much less on an altar, but I don't expect that. I dance for my own pleasure and well-being."

"You can perform for us some day," Van Rycke promised.

Rael flushed scarlet. "You're not a tamed audience! And

I know you all . . ."

Jellico laughed, but he draped a surprisingly comforting arm around her shoulders. "Power down, Doctor. Our good Cargo-Master's only running you over the jets. Ibis dancing's potentially too potent a force for disruption to be loosed in the confines of a starship. Rest assured that you'll

7

be allowed to continue exercising to your heart's content in complete privacy."

The four spacers moved into that part of the huge market where the gems and jewelry were sold.

Here the difference between the Solar Queen and the Roving Star, the chasm between the credits each starship had at her disposal, between the routes they flew, were made clearly apparent. The really good pieces, finished or unset, coming for sale on Canuche of Halio were offered in the major enclosed facilities, not in this open field, yet they could not give the top line of even what was on display of the mounted stones more than a passing

glance.

Miceal's expression darkened as he continued to watch the Medic. Inevitably, her eyes went to the best pieces, lingered on the really good ones. She knew they were beyond the means of her party and said nothing, but the way she looked at them was sufficient. It was not hard to imagine her disappointment. Teague Cofort would have gone for those choices. Space, Deke Tatarcoff probably could have picked up a couple or three of them. So could the Queen, he thought bitterly. Of course, then they would have nothing left with which to lay in a Trade

store ...

He stopped himself with a mental oath. What was he doing? Was this accursed woman driving him to feel ashamed of his own starship?

Jellico's mood improved again once they left the high- priced jewelry behind and found themselves surrounded by stalls stocking goods within their range.

He had no time for brooding then. The Solar Queen had

almost no jewelry left, and these mid-line goods, particularly the numerous beads, were of intense interest to her

Captain.

Now that she was free to act, Rael Cofort shone. She unerringly seized upon the beautifully marked agates, the oddly colored sodalite strand whose dark lavender shade might be a fault but was also strikingly attractive. She found the three unpitted strings in a bundle of otherwise poor garnets, and she spotted uniquely shaped beads and strange clasps to add distinction to the Queen's growing collection of interesting if relatively uncostly trade mate-

rial.

Van Rycke glowed with satisfaction. Cofort was performing exactly as he had seen her do in that other market but with the grand difference that on this occasion she was working for the Solar Queen, not against her.

He permitted her to do only the choosing. Although each individual piece cost little, the total of their gem and mineral purchases would be significant. This was Queen business, and he was not about to turn the crucial bargaining over to any temporary hand.

Dane watched him with the awe of a knowledgeable beginner for a superb master in his craft, and with pleasure. Someday, he would have a similar post and would perform, he hoped, with skill equal to that of his chief.

Jellico and Cofort's impressions might be less precisely tuned, but they were no less powerful. Both were veterans

1

in Trade and recognized an ability so well honed that it transcended the professional to move into the realm of art.

Once the Cargo-Master was satisfied that they had secured everything they needed or wanted that the Queen could afford, he indicated that they should return to the freighter with their treasures. All four of them were burdened with a number of fairly substantial packages by that time. The cloth, of course, would be delivered to the ship, but when one purchased gems and minerals, he took care to carry them away with him.

"Could we at least go by the loose stones?" the Medic

asked wistfully.

"If you like," Jellico replied. "I thought you agreed with Van that we wouldn't take any."

"Aye. This is for me. I just want to look."

"The Roving Star deals heavily in them," Van Rycke recalled.

She nodded. "We do our own setting, you see. Our Steward's a master jeweler. — He's taken prizes from some of the biggest guilds in the ultrasystem. — He mounts what

we bring to him, both for Trade and for the rest of us

personally. All we have to do is supply the materials, and he produces individual works of art. I've gotten in the habit of checking out anything that might conceivably be of interest as a result."

"It can't hurt," the Cargo-Master said. He touched one of the packages he carried. "This local stuff's nice. I wouldn't object to having a few loose stones on hand."

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That part of the big market given over to unmounted gems and the metals used to complement them was not exten-

sive, and there was almost no variety in the type of jewels offered. Canuchean amethysts and red garnets made up more than 90 percent of the stock. Most of the rest consisted of surplanetary fancy garnets, all of them flawed and none of good color, much to the woman's disappointment.

The remainder were various small, imported semiprecious gems common throughout the ultrasystem. There were no sunstones at all that day.

The Free Traders bought a few stones, fewer than they might have if the quality had been better. All were single specimens. The sets, presorted packets containing from two gems to three dozen or more, they left alone. Most such lots were of very low grade, and they had plenty from which to choose at reasonable cost without having to settle for the patently inferior.

One stand featuring them did catch Cofort's eye. It was a small, uncovered operation specializing in both imported and on-world stones plus a smattering of the more interesting readily available minerals. The array of colors was wonderful and was rendered more striking still by the masterful arrangement the merchant had employed to display his wares.

She picked up several of the clear packets encasing his goods and held them high so that Halio's light might play over the contents before carefully replacing them again.

When she seemed to linger over one lot labeled rose tourmalines, the Canuchean was quick to pick up on her apparent interest.

1

"Those have better than average color. They go for fifty a carat."

The spacer's arched brows lifted even higher. "Hedon's Gem Guild wouldn't get that for stellar-quality synthetics, which these are not."

The man drew himself to the full of his not inconsiderable height. "If they were stellar quality or anything approaching it; they wouldn't be selling in sets. As for the

rest, these tourmalines are natural ... "

"Save it for the locals," the Medic snapped. "Preferably

the visually handicapped. It's painfully obvious that just about every stone on this table is manufactured. — If you wish to argue the point, Canuche has thoughtfully supplied appraisers to settle such disputes. Their booth's just

over there. One of my comrades can fetch—"

"Power down, space hound. I'm only a salesman, not a gemologist. It's as easy to fool me as anyone else. This stuff looked good to me, and I took it on faith, that's all." "Of course," she responded dryly. She had figured he would back down quickly under that threat. The official appraisers were noted for doing their job, and the penalties for fraud were severe. The merchant might have bluffed his way out of this, but he would then be under close observation for a very long time, which would seriously handicap the questionable enterprise he was running.

"Look, I'll sell at a loss to prove my good intentions.

Take what you want for ten a carat."

"Ten? We do this for a living, too, remember? You got

them for a quarter a carat, maybe half for a few of the best.

You'll be making a good profit at one credit."

"One! I won't be able to meet my rent!"

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"Stow that debris, my friend. By rights, I shouldn't go higher than three-quarters. Besides, we're only taking a couple of sets as curiosities, one for me, one for my comrades to split. Synthetics like these wouldn't move too well, and I really don't believe your style of doing business deserves the reward of a big order."

She looked over a number of the sets before selecting two, one containing all rose-colored stones, the other a mixture of rose and green. The gems in both were cut as cabochons rather than with light-firing facets.

After watching carefully while the discomfited merchant weighed her selection, she paid him based upon the scale he had named and, much to his relief, withdrew with her companions.

vofort caught the way Dane was looking at her and laughed. "You didn't think I had it in me, Viking?"

He started. That was the nickname some of his more insufferable classmates back at the Pool had used to taunt him. There was no barb in it now, though. In fact, he rather liked the sound of it... "Well, you usually come across as a rather quieter individual."

Her eyes sparkled. "I wasn't loud back there, either," she teased.

"Neither are Patrol lasers," Jellico told her. "They make their point, too."

Her manner grew grave again. "I didn't think Mr. Van Rycke would mind my taking the helm. The sum involved was infinitesimal, and one set is for me. I'll keep the other as well if you really don't want it."

1

"Not at all," replied the Cargo-Master. "As you said, it's a curiosity."

"We'll see just how much of a curiosity when we get back to the Queen."

There was such an air of mystery, of superiority, about her that his eyes narrowed. "That's where we're heading right now, Doctor Cofort. On all burners."

15

Van Rycke ushered his companions into his office. The panel had scarcely closed behind them before he turned to Rael. "All right. What treasure have you found for us amid the debris?"

"Maybe none," she replied, as she accepted the shears he held out to her and slit open each of the packets. She spilled then- contents out in two carefully separated piles. "Which does the Queen want? The cost was the same."

"The bicolored one."

"Good choice," she said as she separated two pink stones from it. "These appear to be the only ones," she remarked after a few seconds' examination of the rest. A similar study of her own packet produced another prize, this one somewhat larger than the first two.

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Rael peered closely at all three, holding them so that they caught the full of the bright light from the desk lamp.

Her head rose in a gesture of triumph. "Star rubies," she announced. "Very old and unquestionably the real thing.

They'll have to be tested for quality, but I suspect it's first rate."

"So that's why you chose cabs rather than faceted stones," Miceal said softly.

She nodded. "I'd spotted them right off. I couldn't be entirely sure Without examining them more carefully, but I knew I did have something out of the ordinary. I just had to be careful not to arouse his suspicion by paying too much attention to those particular sets." She made a wry face. "I'd probably have been vacuum-brained enough to tell him if that son hadn't tried to give us such a doing. Fifty credits a carat for those little mass-produced toys of his!"

"What if we had refused the packet you picked up for us?" the Cargo-Master asked.

The Medic answered Van Rycke, but it was Jellico's eyes that she met and held. "Temporary hand or permanent, I am part of this ship, and I'm entitled to your trust. I'd proven my knowledge of gems. If you couldn't go along with me blindly, or at least indulge my whim if you suspected nothing more, when the outlay was so insignificant, then you'd deserve to take your loss."

"You'd have just held onto both packets and kept mum about the rubies?" Jan asked.

"Naturally. What else would you expect me to do?"

"Fair enough," the Captain said. "We were testing you.

You had the right to return the compliment."

Dane fingered the rubies, although he did not pick them

Redllne the Stars 139

up. It would be too much like him to drop one of them—

Cofort's probably—and send it skittering into some crevice from which it could not be extracted short of dismantling the ship. "What're they worth?"

"That I couldn't venture to say with certainty, not until they've been tested," she replied, "but if they're as good as they look, they're worth plenty. Mr. Van Rycke will be the better one to lay the proper valuation on them once he has the necessary information to do it."

"They're old to judge by the way they've been polished, probably Terran . . ." The Cargo-Master stopped speaking.

His breath caught. "Spirit of Space!"

"What's the matter?" Miceal demanded.

"Most of Terra's good star ruby sources were played out long ago, the best of them centuries ago, and there's never been anything to equal their output since anywhere in the Federation. If these stones originated in one of those old mines, we're looking at the stuff of legend. They'll go for whatever the market'll bear."

"If we can locate that market," his Captain said gloomily.

"Hedon. We keep our mouths shut and fire all our tubes to get there. Our small constellation here, our double star," he corrected, recalling that one of the three did not belong to the Queen, "could well pay for that voyage and a number of others after it even if we moved nothing else at all on any of them."

"Do youreally think that's what we've got?" Rael asked in awe.

"There's a very strong possibility of it. Doctor, judging by surface appearances at any rate. Neither this sheen nor this color has been around for a very long time."

1

"What if they aren't as old as we think or aren't from one of the famous Terran mines?" Thorson asked, trying to keep his head in the face of his superiors' enthusiasm.

They had seen what seemed like real prizes turn sour before, and he did not want to work himself into the same pitch over what could be nothing more than an extremely costly shot at the next galaxy. A trip to Hedon of Eros was an expensive proposition, and they had nothing else whatsoever that they could hope to trade there. "They're not

even very big."

"About a carat each for ours. The Doctor's is half that weight again. That's not bad for a major gemstone. They're also dead matches for one another both in color and cut, and the Queen's two for size as well. That means we can bill them as a suite. No, provided they're natural, we have ourselves a treasure, whatever their age or source. — Assuming they're not hot, of course." Rael had been careful to secure documentation of the sale, but they would still get no profit in that event and would be out the cost of the

voyage as well.

Dane nodded, inwardly hoping that their "treasure" would at least prove of sufficient resale value to match the efforts they would have to expend to establish its authenticity and then dispose of it.

The answer to that lay in the future, but there were other mysteries still to be resolved. He turned his attention to the woman. "How did you spot them, Rael? For that matter, how'd you know the rest were synthetics?"

"Oh, by the color. Manufactured stones are subtly different from their natural counterparts. Usually, they're more intense than real ones, and the shade or tone's at least

a wee bit off." She forestalled his next question. "How these came to be in those sets, I couldn't begin to say. They've probably been knocking around for a long time, moving from place to place with no one suspecting their true nature. All the gems in these two lots look like they were previously mounted. They were probably part of a large, low-value shipment gathered from all over the ultrasystem and split up into sets for resale at marginal profit."

"That's more or less what I figure, too," the Cargo-Master agreed.

There was a strange note in his tone, and she looked up to find him studying her intently. "What's wrong?" she asked in surprise.

"I hesitate to use the word preternatural. Doctor. It's too melodramatic coming from anyone but Craig Tau. However, the stones on that stand were not the work of amateurs, The fact that they were synthetic would not have been instantly apparent to most of us, myself included, and I'm not precisely a novice at buying and selling such items. Add to that the fact that absolutely no one else I've ever known could possibly have smelled out that rats' nest and it rather makes me wonder about you."

"That's only because you're judging by purely Terran standards," she told him calmly. "When*I introduced myself as Teague Cofort's sister, I should have been more specific. We're actually half-siblings. Our mothers were different. Very different. In point of fact, I'm a genetic impossibility."

Her chin lifted. "I don't know Mother's race or home- world. My father just returned to the ship with her one day

1

after a short absence on some planet neither they nor his crew would ever name. She definitely was not of Terran blood, not human at all, although she was very beautiful by human standards. There were some significant physiological and genetic differences, incompatibilities. Marriage was possible between them. Conception should not have been and certainly not a viable birth. That notwithstanding, I was conceived, born, and have managed to thrive.

"Like most intelligent beings, I have my own set of gifts and talents. Most seem to have come from my father, some from Mother, but none are of a nature to set me apart from the better part of the Federation's citizens. Whatever strengths I might have came by the time-honored means of determined effort and practice. If I hadn't been reared in an environment like space where the lack of other distractions does wonders for the ability to concentrate on a long course of study or training, I doubt I'd have achieved much with them at all, and even with that push, I'm a far voyage from being some sort of ultrawoman.

"Admittedly, my senses are pretty acute, but there's nothing super-anything about them.

"I do have a good feel for color and can differentiate between shades quite finely, but I learned that from our former Cargo-Master, Mara's predecessor. Other than that, my vision's not remarkable. — No pin spotting at ten miles or peering through titanone plates.

"It's much the same with hearing. My sense of smell is keen, which is usually more disadvantage than blessing. I have trained myself to separate and identify different odors even when they're components in a melody. That's a bit uncommon, I suppose, but don't imagine I can perform like

Redllne the Stars 143

a tracking or hunting animal, or you're in for a major disappointment.

"Sensitivity to aroma and refined sense of taste go together. You can be sure that I appreciate Mr. Mura's fine hand with his seasonings and that I don't let many chances for a good feed of real food pass me by when they crop up."

The expression of each of her companions brightened

into a grin. That, at least, was typical of their kind. When

a space hound hit the surface of a basically Terran-type

planet and had some free time, it was almost inevitably to

an eating place that he first hurried rather than to the local

version of a Happy City.

Rael did not smile. "The last sense I have is touch, and

that's not terribly extraordinary, though I'll admit to preferring the feel of that Thornen silk to that of our uniforms.

"There's nothing else," she continued firmly and a little wearily, "no sixth-plus powers. I don't read minds or see past or future or move solid objects by will alone."

"What about conversing with animals?" Miceal asked quickly.

"No," she said firmly. "I wish I could. They're often a galaxy nicer than our own kind. They like me because they know how much I like them. Maybe it's a little unusual," she conceded, "but it's nothing more than that. Plants, too, grow for me as they do for other gardeners who understand their ways and enjoy working with them. There's no particular magic in it."

The Captain gave a slight shake of his head. "No go,

Cofort. A lot of people like animals, but none of them affects Queex the way you do."

Her eyes hardened, and a sharp edge turned her voice 1

into a whip. "A lot of people love animals and take tri-dees of them, too, but they don't often get results like you've got tacked up on your office wall. Do you use some sort of compulsion to force your subjects to appear and then pose and freeze in place for you?"

Jellico flushed so that the scar stood out white on his

cheek, but he said nothing. The rebuke had been neatly

delivered. It was not an overreaction, either. Had the Medic been a real member of the crew, it might have been different. There would have been strong bonds of trust and confidence between them then, though his right to pry would have been no greater. As it was, any admission of

esper abilities could prove highly dangerous for Rael Co

fort.

Van Rycke cleared his throat. "I suppose I can consider myself answered," he said to break the uncomfortable silence that followed. "Well, whatever the extent of your talents, Doctor, we've got reason to be grateful to them. They've done good work all along and have topped it off by locating a potentially very nice prize for us."

The Medic inclined her head in formal acknowledgment. "Thank you, Mr. Van Rycke."

"We seem to be finished here," he said. "The day's Still young, and there's a good part of the market still left unexplored. — Thorson, you'd best stay here and classify our new acquisitions. Log it all in and stow everything."

"Aye," Dane responded cheerfully. He had been anticipating that.

"Doctor Cofort may be able to give you a hand later,"

Jellico suggested.

He glanced at the woman. "Write up a report about these

rubies now, while the details're fresh in your memory.

Describe the purchase in full and put down all our surmises, clearly labeled as such. Just in case those stones should prove to be hot, I want as much documentation on hand as possible to attest to our innocence."

"Aye, Captain. — I'll just say we bought the sets by chance, though, if you don't mind. We're doing this to settle potential questions, not raise more."

"Handle it however you think best. If I want more or something different, I'll tell you when I see the report."

The four dispersed. Dane and Van Rycke hurried to be about their work.

Cofort moved quickly as well to get on with her assignment, but Miceal stopped her at the door. "How about some jakek?"

"Fine. I always enjoy a cup," the Medic responded, silently adding a mental reservation about quality. Jellico would never rival Mr. Mura in a galley,

Hael Cofort entered her commander's office first, automatically activating the cabin lights as she did so. Queex gave a delighted whistle at the sight of her but did not forget the duties of a hoobat for all his pleasure at this particular human's visit. He glared suspiciously at the door to see who else might be invading his territory.

Since only its rightful occupant followed, he satisfied himself with a single, decidedly unmusical call and grasped the bars with four of his legs, ready to leap out as

soon as the door opened.

The woman did not disappoint him. She laughed softly 7

and slid into Jellico's chair so that she could comfortably reach the hoobat's cage, then slipped the latch and swung the barrier back. In that instant, Queex was airborne in a

spring that carried him to her upper arm. From there, he

scurried to her shoulder.

Cofort braced her hand against the edge of the desk. At that signal, Queex descended to her forearm and draped himself across it, three appendages dangling on each side.

. She began to rub the area between and around the protuberant eyes until he relaxed into a limp image of ecstasy.

The Captain watched them a moment and shook his

head, "Are you sure you're not working some sort of spell

on him?"

"Haven't you ever had a really good massage?" she countered. "Besides, he's such a sweetheart. It's easy to please

him. — Isn't it, little pet?"

As if in answer, the odd creature started to emit a quiet, purring whistle.

Mfceal said nothing. Any response he might have

made—in any one of several languages—would have been

appropriate only in very different company. He was fond of Queex himself, considerably more than he would publicly admit, but Rael Cofort was the only person he had ever met, human or xeno, who could call a hoobat a sweetheart and little pet.

He rolled the chair and its two occupants aside and opened the bottom drawer of the desk. Jellico took a big thermos from it. This he held to his ear and shook briskly.

The resulting sloshing sound told him it was still about half full, so he stood it upright in the space he cleared for it between two stacks of papers and set the controls for re-

ReiSI'me the Stars 147

heat. That done, he retrieved two cups from the same drawer and put one before the Medic, the other beside himself as he casually dropped into the visitor's chair. "It'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

When a buzz announced that the jakek was hot, he filled

his guest's cup and his own.

Rael sipped the dark liquid, concealing her grimace behind the thick rim. Jakek was making great headway all along the starlanes, threatening to supplant the caffeineladen Terran coffee as the Federation's all-around beverage of choice. The crew of the Solar Queen, though, with the exception of herself and the Captain, remained staunchly loyal to the traditional brew despite the fact that it was available only in synthetic or concentrate form to space hounds plying the rim. Jellico appreciated too well how much the Steward had to do to demand special luxuries for himself. He usually prepared his own in the thermos, rather to the detriment of its flavor. For the four-hundredth time, she vowed to get up early some morning soon and wheedle or pummel Frank Mura into letting her loose in his precious galley, Jakek was heavily used on the Roving Star, and she could program a range ...

She felt the man's eyes on her and looked up. His expression was somber. "Do you doubt my story?"

"I'm just sorry we put you through that inquisition in there."

"You had to ask, didn't you?"

"Aye, but we seem to make a habit of tearing your wounds. I don't enjoy tormenting you."

She looked into the steaming liquid. "There's no disgrace in my ancestry, and I don't mind speaking about my

1

mother. She was respected and greatly liked as well as loved. All the crew who knew her told me that. Father was the only one who'd never talk about her."

"He blamed you?" Jellico asked gently.

"No, but he held himself responsible. I think it must have been with him all the time. He loved her, you see."

She sighed. "None of us knew how much until he was dying. He never called for me or Teague or Teague's mother. Just for her. I believe he was glad to be joining her."

The man nodded slowly. His younger comrades would not have understood that, but he had lived long enough, experienced enough, that he could comprehend it somewhat.

Another thought struck him suddenly. "Your mother was a Medic, too?" he ventured.

"Among her own people, aye, or so we believed. She never actually admitted to it, or to much else about her past. She apparently had buried that completely when she came with my father. It is one of the reasons I was drawn to the profession, I suppose. She fought so hard for me, battled to remain alive long enough that I could live without her. I felt I owed it to her to do something positive with

myself, to try to make some return for that struggle."

"Apart from being happy?"

Rael looked closely at him. "I don't knock that goal, friend, but medicine is in me, rising from several springs. This is undoubtedly one of them, and to my mind, it's as valid as any of the others."

"No doubt it is." He smiled. "You're a strong-willed woman, Rael Cofort, for all your quiet manner. I have trou-

ReiSline the Stars 149

ble envisioning you being stampeded into any major course unsuited to you."

When they had finished the jakek, Jellico came to his feet and took the empty cups. He would drop them off in the galley on his way out. "You can keep Queex company and work in here if you want. Take your time, but if you do finish soon enough, see if you can't give Thorson a hand.

Bear in mind, though, that he's boss with respect to Cargo when Van's away." ,

"I was born a Free Trader," the woman responded irritably. "I think I know the protocol."

"Aye, but you've also managed to establish yourself as something of an authority in the kinds of goods he'll be cataloging. — Dane's good. I don't want him overawed into surrendering either his authority or his duties."

"He won't be," she promised.

Miceal studied her somberly. He was not quite sure that he believed her, or, rather, that he should believe her. That mixed-blood story was an old standby for gaining sympathy, although in this case there was a considerable body of apparent evidence to support the Medic's assertions. He could not press her further, either, not yet. Her frankness— or seeming frankness—had tied him. He had no facts or so much as a solid suspicion to lay against her, and if he pushed Rael now, it would have to be in a serious challenge that could only result in the termination of her association with the Solar Queen. He was not ready to force that. He did not want to force it.

Morally, he could not do so without significant cause.

Canuche Town was not Trewsworld, and it was most assuredly no place to abandon this particular woman. She

7

had done extremely well for Deke Tatarcoff out there in the market, but the method by which she accomplished that service might well have bought her a passage straight into disaster.

Jellico hesitated. More than restraint from initiating a clash between them was required of him. As long as Cofort remained part of the Queen's company, it was his duty to see to her safety, but apart from the two services, the Navy and Patrol, a starship's Captain could exert only so much control over the surplanetary off-duty activities of his crew.

Damn it, there was danger! It might be only potential, but it was quite real. "I don't know your plans for tonight, but

I don't want you, or any of the others for that matter,

wandering about Canuche Town alone or even in pairs. Go in at least fours or not at all, which is what I would prefer."

He braced himself. No independent-minded Free Trader, particularly one not even bound long-term to his ship, was likely to accept that remark or the imperious tone in which it had been uttered with any semblance of good grace.

Whatever her instinctive reaction, however, the

woman's temper held. Her eyes narrowed, and she studied j

him sharply. "What's the matter, Miceal?" she asked qui- } etiy.

He sighed. "Beauty's a commodity in Happy City. If any of its creatures happened to witness your work with that piece of Thornen silk, they'll set the value of a small river tear, and a prime stone at that, on you and maybe more depending on their specific interests. The most spineless vermin in the ultrasystem would try to grab a prize like that if they thought they could get away with it." Anger shot

Reillliie the Stars 151

through him, hot and sharp. "Whatever you do with your life, I won't see you slaving for those subbiotics!"

Rael's head lowered. "I'm aware of that possibility," she

told him. "I wasn't planning on taking chances. As for wandering around, after that business with the port rats, I don't find the idea of exploring Canuche Town after dark particularly appealing. Once the markets and shops close, there isn't much here apart from the restaurants to draw me away from the Queen anyway. I'll be happier and better occupied working on Doctor Tau's study."

The Captain's anger deepened. Aye, he thought bitterly, she would have to have recognized that peril. Comeliness was as a rule an asset in Trade, particularly when dealing with humans, who tended to respond favorably to those they considered to be attractive. Anything greatly beyond that was another matter. Too striking an appearance could be a decided disadvantage under a great many circumstances, and Rael Cofort would have been a potential target even as a very young girl.

Sympathy swept over him. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold and shield her . . .

Jellico resisted that impulse, but he did not want to leave the Medic with the gloom he had aroused weighing her down. He made himself smile, as if at himself. "I've wasted a lot of breath with that warning," he said. "You know, or should know, all of it as well as I do. — Space, I may have some years on you, but given the fact that you were born on a freighter, there probably isn't all that much disparity in the amount of time we've spent wandering around the starlanes."

Her eyes sparkled. "You've certainly put it to better use, 152

then, m. berth."

back onto writ' ifth ston

very far."

"I

are sitting t command c approximal welcome sc

1

afford to buy natural jewels. Synthetics could broaden the So7or Queen's potential customer base enormously, m fact, given their greater intensity of color, the cheaper article might actually prove the preferred item in some markets.

The credit outlay to get started would not be much, either, and the test stock would claim only a minute portion of their ever-precious cargo space.

The apprentice nodded to himself in satisfaction. He needed to do some more reading. Then he would put to-

gether the figures, outline probable good markets and a Trade strategy, and lay his proposal before his chief.

Van Rycke should go for it. Making a profit, not exposing obscure murder plots, was the Queen's function in life, and this looked like a fine chance to open up a brand-new subfield and effectively monopolize it, at least in this Sector, for a couple or maybe three years until the other Traders caught wise and could move on their own accounts.

"Dane! I thought you were still in the hold."

He looked up. Rip Shannon had just come into the crew's cabin and was looking at him in mild surprise. "I finished up there twenty minutes ago," he responded.

The other's dark face clouded. "I saw Rael go down nearly that long ago, and the hatch was still unfastened when I glanced at it just now."

Thorson straightened. "That calls for some investigation."

"Easy, friend," Rip said hastily. "She probably has a good reason ... "

"She's got no right to be there, not without the Cargo- Master's approval, or mine in Van Rycke's absence."

"You want some help?"

RedliRe ttie Stars 155

That gave him pause. "No," he replied slowly. "I'm not accusing her of anything." Once more, his expression hardened. "Just stick around. If I'm not back reasonably fast, come looking for me, and be real careful when you do."

Dane grimaced at the melodramatic cast of his whole reaction to his shipmate's announcement. Blast Rael Cofort anyway, he thought irritably. Why was it that she seemed to bring out that in him, or managed to get them all involved in situations that demanded an oversized response?

On Ali Kamil, it might look good. He, on the other hand, made a ridiculous hero.

All the same, he did not stop. Cargo and Trade goods were his responsibility. He had no choice but to check out any interference with either. A sabotaged shipment had once given the Queen galaxy-class trouble, and he was not about to risk a replay of that. There was neither profit nor pleasure in the close proximity of extremely unpleasant death.

Cofort was still in the hold when the Cargo-apprentice reached it moments later. Everything looked to be in order, and there was nothing to indicate what she had been doing since her arrival, but she had the examination length of the silver fabric out and had unfolded a corner of it. This she was holding out from her so that she could view it against the gray background of the hold and against the warm, pale flesh of her other hand.

file:///F|/rah/Andre%20Norton/Norton,%20Andre%20-%20Redline%20the%20Stars.txt Thorson cleared his throat. The woman glanced at him,

7

then looked again at the silver net. "I didn't have a chance to examine our acquisitions closely before. This is really lovely. You did very well with it."

Rael sighed as she returned the length to its place.

"When I was aboard the Roving Star," she said bitterly, "I listened to Teague and didn't buy any such basically useless luxuries. Now, I can't afford them. I'll never be able to have them, either, not as long as I remain a virtuous, hardworking rim Free Trader."

The Medic stopped speaking, seeing the open suspicion in her companion. "Power down, boy," she snapped. "No Cofort's ever turned jack. I don't intend to start any new traditions in that line."

"You wouldn't admit it if you did," he replied, trying to make his response sound light but not quite succeeding.

Rael shrugged delicately. "We deal with some beautiful things. I'm not expected to be immune to the charms of all of them, I hope. — You certainly aren't."

The man started, and her lips curved into a smile that was not all good-humored sympathy. "I saw the way you looked at that leather utility belt before you settled for the one you bought. If you can want a lot of things you can't have, why deny me the same right?"

"But you can have some of this," he countered quickly, picking up on what he saw as the Haw in her argument.

"There's nothing stopping a crew member from buying

part of a cargo for personal use. This is faux cloth, not the

real thing. A small length of it wouldn't run you that

much."

She shook her head. "You don't have enough of it to

split your stock. Twelve full bolts isn't much to offer as it

Reilllne the SSais 157

is. Any less, and you can wave farewell to the hope of a quick bulk sale."

"You're so concerned about the Solar Queen's profits?"

Dane demanded sarcastically.

Rael's chin lifted. "One is always loyal to the ship to

which one is bound, however long or short the term of service."

"So tradition goes," he said. "I haven't been out of Pool

and in space long enough to see if it actually holds true or not."

"It holds. Usually. The ships where it doesn't have a tendency to disappear with all hands. Besides, Cargo-Master Van Rycke isn't likely to fragment the value of his stock

by selling off part of it at this stage." Her response had been cold. Dane Thorson was too sensitive about his youth and lack of experience to call attention to them if he wasn't trying to be smart. "While I'm with the Queen, I'll serve her interests."

"And afterward?"

"Afterward, I'll compete with her if I have to. So will you, most likely, when you finally qualify."

Both were silent for some moments after that.

Rael's eyes fell first. "That was a low blow. I'm sorry, and sony I was down here without your say. I came looking for you as per Jellico's instructions, but I should've left again when I didn't find you. I guess I just fell into old habits. I had free run of the Star's holds."

"You were good with cargo, I suppose?" he asked sourly.

Why not? She was good with everything any way important to him.

"Very good with a lot of it. Teague wanted me for Cargo-

1

Master. He was furious when I opted for Medic training instead." Her back seemed to straighten. "Maybe I was wrong. I liked cargo work and frontline Trade, and unquestionably, I'd have been more useful to him in that capacity, but medicine had the stronger call. I chose to answer it and stuck by that decision."

"That's why you left the Star?"

"No," she said wearily. Her mouth hardened. "I left,

Thorson. I wasn't kicked off. I've given reasons why. If you don't choose to believe them, well, that's nothing much to

either of us, is it?"

Dane decided to try one more tack, although he doubted he would accomplish anything. If the Medic was playing them false, she had thought her role through thoroughly.

She had not lacked an answer yet for any question they had put to her. Even Van Rycke and Jellico had not been able

to trap her or trip her up.

"By the sound of it, you had some real credits at your disposal on the Roving Star. Have you been on your own so long that you're completely wiped out?" He felt uncomfortable asking that. It was none of his business and crossed the border into discourtesy by a considerable margin. Cofort would be within her rights to tell him to go fire his

burners someplace.

The woman frowned but kept rein on her temper. "No,

I haven't been on the loose that long. The bulk of my former

earnings as well as my inheritance from my father are hatching in the Star's account. Teague -wouldn't release

them."

"What?"

For the first time, she gave him a genuine smile. "He's Redlinelhe Stars 159

not a villain of the starlanes. Everything's sitting quite properly in a trust. My brother's not using it. He can't. He's just holding it until I latch onto a permanent berth."

"You're out of your minority."

"I know, but those are the terms of the trust. Besides, there isn't that much involved. We Coforts pour most of our shares of everything back into our ships." Her head rose. "You don't think we got where we are without considerable dedication and sacrifice, do you?"

"No. Cofort and his crews are known for that, but . . ."

"But nothing. I wanted to make it on my own, and I'd be begging to be back-alleyed if I went wandering around the starlanes with too impressive a roll. It's worked out. I haven't starved even if I haven't managed to prove myself the greatest phenomenon to bless Trade in this century."

The woman laughed softly, ruefully. "I suppose I was sort of cherishing that hope, but you can probably imagine how fast I had to flush it down the disposal tubes."

Dane chuckled despite himself. "You may do it yet," he told her as he sighed inwardly. She had managed it again, he thought, turned the discussion completely away from questions uncomfortable to herself. He was not surprised, at least. Rael Cofort had proven remarkably adept at doing that since she had first brought herself to the attention of the crew of the Solar Queen. Only time would show whether or not she was using that skill to cover some sort of bad surprise she had planned for the lot of them.

17

The three apprentices, Jasper, and Rael were at the table when Jellico and Van Rycke strode into the mess the following morning. The Medic had Sinbad on her lap, cradled against her left arm. He was eating daintily from her other hand, which she held cupped before him.

"I thought he was beginning to look a little rotund,"

Miceal remarked.

Rael glanced up. "He's a hero again, fortunately an unwounded one this time. Someone," she added pointedly,

"was careless about reattaching the nets properly when he returned to the ship last night"

"Ouch," muttered the Cargo-Master.

Weeks put down his fork. "Any good leads?" He had been with the Solar Queen a long time, and he knew full i well that these two would not have been abroad in the wee I hours merely to sample the kind of delights Happy City had to offer.

Van Rycke's eyes danced like Terra's sky on a sunny day. "A charter, my friends, a nice, fat, easy charter that'll completely fill our bulk cargo holds."

"What're we carrying and to what port?" Dane asked

eagerly.

"Equipment and chemicals to the dome mines on Riginni."

He held up his hands when the faces of the four men at the table fell. "I'm not overjoyed, either, at the thought of revisiting her again so soon, but it's a good run, and there could be at least a couple of others like it if we move fast

enough."

He lowered his large frame into the chair nearest him.

"We encountered one Adroo Macgregory, who is founder, president, chairman of the board, and just about High King of Caledonia, Inc. That's the biggest conglomerate on Canuche. He'd already realized there was a fine market for his products in those new mines and had personally arranged via transceiver a large sale of everything from digging and crushing equipment to construction materials to chemicals of various sorts. He's eager to move fast, before some competitor can edge him out. There's no time to buy or license a freighter long-term, so he was planning to utilize several of those currently in port for his initial few runs. After witnessing the stampede Rael started in the market yesterday, though, Macgregory decided to give the Queen a shot at the whole charter, on condition that we're

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prepared to accept delivery and lift within the next couple of days. We carry through on that, and we'll get the work as long as we're willing to take it and he's still hiring independents, which he does warn won't go on forever."

He fixed the woman with a wicked grin. "Our agreement's only verbal as yet. He won't actually seal it until he has our Doctor Cofort present as well."

Seeing the mischief on the pair, Rael merely arched her brows. "Now that's a remarkable display of pure democracy!" she declared. "Imagine wanting not only the Solar Queen's most exalted officers but also a lowly unskilled hand to officiate at so important a transaction!"

Jellico chuckled. "Actually, Macgregory wants to make a change in your employment status. He intends to offer you a place in his sales organization." "He what?" she asked, simultaneously trying unsuccessfully to silence her companions' laughter with an impatient wave of her hand.

"That's absolutely correct," the Cargo-Master affirmed.

"He claims that anyone capable of bringing two of his staid close competitors to the brink of fisticuffs—his word—by the mere act of waving a piece of cloth around in the air a few times could do good work in advancing the cause of Caledonia, Inc. — Seriously, Rael, he recognizes precisely what you did and promises that if you're willing and show both ability and industry, you've got an excellent future with his company."

"Why tell my superiors that he plans to bid for my services?" she inquired bluntly.

"He wants to avoid acquiring a reputation of being an underhanded dealer and scaring off potential interstellar

1

customers. Besides," Jellico added, "he probably doesn't think he's got much real chance of luring you away from us. Space hounds just don't like quitting the starianes,

however good the offer."

"Not for a planet like Canuche of Halio, at any rate," she agreed firmly and with considerable feeling. "When're we

meeting with him?"

"Noon. He's buying us lunch in one of Canuche Town's most exclusive restaurants, the Twenty-Two, down by the waterfront, so don't do too good a job on those syntheggs

and sausage."

"No fear of that. I loaded up for Sinbad's sake, not mine." Ali leaned against the padded backrest of the bench enclosing the table on three sides. "Now that that's settled," he drawled, "there remains a possibly intriguing tale to be told. No one made any mention of 'fisticuffs' yesterday."

"We'd left by then," the Captain told him. "We met Deke Tatarcoff on our way back to the Queen, and he confirmed that there was not one but several near battles before the

Thornen silk found a home."

"He was one happy man," Van Rycke said as he picked up the story. "He got absolute top price for the bolt and then sold the little examination length for very nearly the same sum. Everything else went as well, albeit at a more reasonable price. He claimed all he's got left are a couple of scraps of lint and declared that if he'd found them in time, he'd probably have moved those as well."

Jellico placed the small delicate-cargo box he had been carrying on the table and reverently lifted two bottles out;

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of it. "From Tatarcoffs private stock. — You're the one who earned them, Rael. You decide their fate."

The woman eyed the labels. Wine. Hedon vintage, golden white, dry, and the vineyard was good enough that she recognized the name. They would have no trouble trading this if they chose.

She shook her head. No. Deke was a connoisseur of wine. His personal supply was legendary, and he maintained it strictly for his own pleasure, not for sale or barter. These bottles had been given in that spirit, and she felt they should be used accordingly. "We're worth an occasional luxury. We'll turn them over to Frank and see what he can produce to accompany them. He should enjoy that challenge, especially here on-world where he can get his hands on fresh produce."