THREE
So it was that Jethri’s first glimpse of Balrog’s crew at this docking was barely more than that. He was first at the ship’s flag, felt the slight over-pressure as the hatch slid aside, and a moment later felt Freza’s hands on his as she dragged him laughing into the tiny entranceway and pushed him briefly against the nearest wall with a crushing hug, the scent of her a perfume to him.
Their mouths almost collided as they both tried to take the same side for a fast kiss, while behind Brabham chided them with an undercurrent of laughter.
“Let the man in, Freza, so we can all see how good he looks, right? I might need to steal him away from you…”
They managed the kiss anyway, Jethri barely avoiding getting tangled in Freza’s ear-com, and after a very few suggestive touches, she dragged him into the crew lounge where Brabham was pulling drinks to the table.
“I had to come,” he told them, “but I can only stay a few breaths. Got a ’pointment next ship over, Elsvair. Not sure how long it’ll take.”
Still holding Jethri’s hand, Freza shook her head, and wrinkled her nose.
“Traders are like that, I hear, always on the lookout and gotta do it now. Date on the books or no!”
She laughed, sounding as giddy as he felt just looking at her. This—
“Oh, look at the ring!”
She held his hand high, showing pin’Aker’s gift to the room. Jethri did his best to ignore that, ceding his hand to her use, as he caught Brabham’s eye.
“Heard you come in, sir,” he said, nodding and bowing both. “I guess that’s congratulations. Always good to get safe to the end of the Loop, is how I hear it!”
Brabham’s face shone; his smile shy. “Yeah, but I hadda do it, so these fine folks know where I stand and where I don’t. Pilots can’t get by on quarter-shift snatches, and I was a bit loose, even at that. That Elsvair you’re going to, there’s some transmissions or emissions coming off her, I dunno. Not like me to bobble that way—never has been—but there, they was giving off some kind of interference that ghosted the close radar and jiggled the vid sensors. Just as well I won’t be on deck to take us past ’em on the way out. But hey, don’t look too hard, this is a big port and a big party, so the usual rules apply and we better all get the good rum while we’re here!”
“Genchi’s pilot admired your docking, too, and asked could he meet you. All good if I bring him along to one of those parties?”
“You do that,” Brabham said with a nod. “Be happy to know him.”
“Tell us about the ring, Jeth?” Freza said.
“When there’s time—long story, really it is. I’m due down the row, but I wanted to be first in, so I can brag on that when the stories get told!”
Freza raised his hand, holding tight, kissed his knuckles, then pushed his shoulder harder than maybe playful called for.
“Go on ’way then, Trader, and get yourself back here when you’re done. That’s an order!”
“Yes’m! Soon’s I can, I’ll be back through. Just as soon!”
He’d decided not to go to full dress for this dockside visit—his contacts had seen him in his casual outfit as he’d seen theirs, and now he’d be on their deck at their invitation. And the quick visit to Balrog had been a necessity.
There was an orange at-home flag on display at the end of Elsvair’s dock, but the sign was dark. Might be the electronic wooblies weren’t done with this end of the dock. There was a welcome sign on the hatch, but it, too, was dark.
The tell-tales admitted to there being pressure on the other side of the hatch, but didn’t show unlocked, as many on port would. Despite, Jethri presented himself to the camera, stating his name, and showing his palm to the lens. Then he waited, practicing patience, while the auto-answer got someone inside to come take a look.
If he hadn’t already informed Bry Sen of his destination and made sure the comm set was working before putting it to silent he might have checked it…but showing signs of impatience wasn’t a good look for a trader come to deal.
Since he assumed he was on video he kept his hands well away from the pocket holding his lucky fractin, though he felt its warmth, as well as a faint tremble, as if it were anticipating this meeting.
The hatch itself showed Elsvair’s name, and Tokeo as her home port. There was no captain’s plate, and none for the owner, though the Carresens shipyard plate was there and obvious, putting the ship’s keel at thirty-seven Standards and odd tenths, so while it wasn’t the newest ship on port it was by far not the oldest.
While he waited, Jethri memorized the ship serial numbers for something to do. He’d decided that he needed eyeball information on what ships were here, their capacity, their age, condition, and crew—all data that would weigh on how the Envidaria was implemented. He couldn’t facilitate markets and routes for lower mass ships if he didn’t have a feel for what that meant in person, and across a wide range of ships, not just Loopers like Balrog and Gobelyn’s Market.
Elsvair, now—Elsvair was running light on pods, according to the docking specs he’d seen, and her ports of record did not suggest that she was a proper Looper. Rather, there’d been a lot of opportunity ports, ranging from high end to low, and from one end of the arm to the other. Maybe he could get them to discuss cargo types, and cost-of-runs. A not-old, not-new ship in good repair—they had to be earning money somehow…
The hatch lights brightened, and Jethri thought he heard the hum of motion just before the hatch rolled away with a hiss that released warmth and tantalizing odors that suggested highly spiced meals and a ship kept above usual Looper temps.
Vally faced him from within, dressed in simple shipwear, mocs and light form-fitting shirt and pants. The warmth might make such more reasonable than a heavier uniform, especially if Vally was not on the ship’s ordinary duty roster but was a passenger.
His host bowed, very slightly, showing hands, palm-up and empty.
“Trader, we give thanks for your time,” he said in clear Terran, with no hint of the accent Jethri had marked earlier. “Please, follow.”
He stepped into the ship, standing aside while the hatch closed and sealed, and then followed Vally down a main hall. The fractin in Jethri’s pocket was warm, but not excited now. Maybe it was waiting.
The ship’s layout reminded him of a family ship, though the lighting was much lower than that of any Looper he knew. He understood why the warmth of air had been so evident, with a strong vent moving the atmosphere with some alacrity. Vally, whose slight form moved with a certain sinuosity here on his home decks, was silent as he led the way deep into the ship, past sealed doors and dim passages and finally to a compartment close to the size of Genchi’s break room, a function this space might have performed in a past life.
It seemed clear that the room was not as it had been—built-ins had been removed, with mountings left behind. Extra vents suggested that food might have been prepared here. As always, Jethri evaluated the access points he could see—that is, access to the filters and air-moving equipment that must be…there…and…there, and which might be there…
Toward the rear of the area, to one side of a pair of fine kermandel panels, was a table and chairs. There Malu stood by a chair, her form not so different from Vally’s in ship attire, a little taller, perhaps, and her shoulders not quite as wide. Another woman was standing by a second chair, her hair dark and her eyes serious. Her features were like enough the other two that she might have been an aunt, or cousin. All three were slim, the older woman more so, as if, despite the savory odors of recent cooking, she ate more lightly than most Loopers.
Vally walked to the table, turned and stopped. Jethri, following, stopped within polite Looper distance, which put him closer to all three than Liaden custom permitted, nodded, and waited. The fractin in his pocket was vibrating, just a little.
Vally moved a hand toward the older woman.
“Trader Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin, I bring you to the attention of Minsha. Minsha is the ship’s…trade advisor. Each of us trades independently, but in cases of complexity she advises us by agreement. She has experience with the rules of contracts, delivery specifics, and the like, which we individually cannot match. You must understand that we travel independently and that we each trade independently in this.”
Vally paused. Clearly, Jethri was supposed to say something. He inclined his head politely and said, “I understand.”
“Good,” Vally said, turning toward the woman.
“Minsha, Trader ven’Deelin of Genchi is brought to your attention.”
“I see Trader ven’Deelin,” Minsha said, her voice deep and firm.
Jethri bowed to her, as to an equal, and produced another bow for Malu and Vally, acknowledging previous acquaintance.
“Thank you. We should all be clear that I seek a private transaction, where I represent myself only, the ship’s partnerships are not involved. Further clarity—I will pay cash, if I buy. Any deal that we agree upon between us will be a private dockside transfer of personal property. Trades of this kind go unreported. Again, none of my partners or associates is in any way involved, nor will they learn of my trade sources, since all traders are expected to have and give confidences.”
For all that it was true, it needed be said: if something went out of true only Jethri was responsible, just as the trade advisor’s guidance to Vally or Malu was only advice, and not the trading of the ship.
He bowed again, in conclusion, allowing a little humor to be seen.
“Having now established clarity, I thank you for your invitation and welcome.”
“It is well,” Minsha said. “Malu and Vally, you will offer tea.”
They left the room together, and appeared a moment later, each burdened with a tray. Minsha sat, and indicated with a wave her hand that Jethri do the same. The chairs put him across from the three of them, with Minsha’s chair drawn a little apart from the other two.
Vally placed cloth mats that were clearly hand-made at each place, and then saucers. Malu poured, and placed the cups in the saucers. Jethri, the guest, was served first. Vally placed a plate of small savories in the center of the table, Malu kept the teapot to hand. When all was seemly, and Vally and Malu had taken their chairs, they all four raised their cups and sampled the beverage.
The blend was not familiar to him, though it had many notes he knew. He suspected that it was a custom blend, and complimented it, and the antique service as well. A Liaden service, he saw, which was not particularly surprising of itself. What did surprise was the fact that it was in use for the ship. But, perhaps his hosts didn’t know that such a set—old, intact, but obviously well-used—would bring a good sum at Liaden-side auction.
The whole time he’d been seated at the plain table overlaid by hand-stitched place mats he’d struggled to keep his hand away from the fractin; its vibrations had increased while they politely drank tea, so much that he was astonished not to hear a buzz. If it called to local Old Tech or something called to it, he didn’t know.
When the pot was done, Malu rose, taking up the cups, removing the textiles, and placing them on the tray Vally held ready. When it was full, he carried it away, returning quickly.
“We will work here,” Malu said. “Vally will bring things. And you, Trader, let me move the table this way so that your light will be better.”
Jethri rose, nodding, stepping away so the table and seats might be moved appropriately. Minsha gave a half bow, and moved her chair away from the table, making it clear that she was there in an advisory role, and not as a party to the trade.
Jethri considered the new placement of his chair, noting that Minsha’s angle would allow her to watch him, and note his reactions.
He smiled, a trader’s pleasant, meaningless smile, and she solemnly inclined her head, acknowledging his understanding. Well, and that was trade—all information from all possible sources was gathered, weighed, and crafted into the offer or asking price.
He turned to Malu.
“I will ask you to show me your items one by one, in any order you like, assuming we’re not talking dozens—or hundreds.”
Malu’s face, already bland, went blander, still.
He sighed.
“Fractins, yes,” he said. “If you have piles of fractins, those I will see in cartons if need be. And if you have frames, it makes sense to bring those together, or in groups of six. Larger items, however, I’d like to see one by one, and perhaps a good way to start would be with the larger ones.”
Vally looked to Malu; Malu looked to Minsha. Minsha smiled at all three of them.
“Surely the trader must see what is offered. This seems an equitable method.”
Wordlessly, Vally turned and left them, vanishing behind the kermandels. Jethri admired them—portable folding screens useful for hiding ugly piles of things at an auction, or on a ship. Unfolded, they could change the mood and the dimensions of a room. Again, there was information here; and like the tea service these were well-used, possibly also old and rare, though he would have to make a closer inspection to be certain.
Jethri heard the first item trundling from the back, well before he saw it and when it emerged from behind the beautiful screens there was no beauty in it. At first glance, it looked like a lump of solid metal, but as it came closer, Jethri could see layers and details. There were modules, pins, connectors, all of a uniform gritty color. The size of one opening reminded him of a ship’s pump, or maybe…
The fractin in his pocket cooled somewhat, though it still vibrated. This item did not excite it, which was, Jethri thought, just as well. Vally wheeled the thing to Jethri’s chair, and indeed it was easier to look at it from there than it would have been standing.
He withdrew a magnifier from his pocket.
“It is permitted that I touch? That I look closely?”
“Yes, of course,” said Vally.
Jethri was guessing the majority of the thing was metallic-ceramic hybrid, and as he peered he began to touch, and to probe it with his fingers.
He rose, moved his chair to another angle, sat again, and peered some more. Finally, he looked up, first to Vally, then to Malu.
“I see by the numbers and letters here that this has a Terran history. It is not something I am familiar with, though I feel that it is old…Yes. Old. Forgive me, but unless there is another part that goes to this, I have no interest. I can guess that it’s a portion of a mechanical system, perhaps part of a weapons system from the Terran wars. There are collectors of all sorts for this kind of thing, and it may be quite valuable, but it is not my interest. Old is not enough.”
The other three exchanged glances.
“There is another part,” Vally said quietly.
“I will look,” Jethri allowed, “but I do not expect to buy.”
The second part came out in a few moments, also trundled, though it was smaller. One symbol—Jethri took a deep breath, and examined this new section more closely, trying to see where a connection between the pieces might be made, and relieved when he discovered none.
He sat back.
“Not this, gentles. This item here, whatever it is, requires a module, and then they attach elsewhere. You do not have the third module?”
Vally shrank a little where he stood, and shook his head glumly.
“If there was more to it, Trader, we did not see it.”
“It’s likely just as well. These markings—” he pointed to them, not to the mark that had made him gasp, “suggests that this requires a timonium power supply. I have no interest. Someone may—there are people who collect such things, as I said.”
The pieces were removed from the trading zone, Vally promising to return with something else that would surely interest the trader more. When he was gone, Malu leaned forward across the table, pulling from her hip pouch a delicate stylus, enamel and maybe even gems inlaid. Jethri felt his breath go; it was simply that beautiful. The fractin warmed somewhat, and cooled when Malu put the piece on the table before him.
“I may touch to examine?” he asked.
She nodded, but he looked first with the magnifier, not touching. It appeared to be nothing more or less than a stylus, though an unusually valuable stylus, given the apparent handwork, the colors, meant to attract the eye. He was careful not to let the frown reach his lips, as he mulled that over. Meant to attract? Some Old Tech was deliberately attractive; inviting a touch, and more.
When he touched the thing his fractin warmed gently, as if in acceptance, and stayed warm. He sat back, and looked to Malu.
“Does this write on any surface you’ve tried it on?”
A rueful smile. “We are not even sure what kind of an instrument it might be, Trader.”
“So you do not have instructions for it, a hint at what it does?”
“Nothing.”
“May I hold it—manipulate it?”
Glances between Malu and the advisor. A slight nod from the elder yielded permission from the younger.
Jethri picked the stylus up, the warmth in his pocket growing and a feeling of familiarity stealing over him. The enamel work, the feel of the object against his skin, reminded him of…something, some object he had handled, though not recently. He couldn’t bring this previous object to mind, but this one was very familiar to his hand. If it was a writing instrument, there would be an extendable point.
Carefully, he twisted the barrel, and found no motion that way, though a portion of the enamel-work glowed faintly blue. He pushed that section, gently, and was rewarded with a snick. His pocket warmed again, and he was sure, now, that the stylus was…active. The upper half of the barrel glowed ivory beneath the enamel, and he recalled in that moment why its feel against his fingers was so familiar.
It felt like the weather machine he had held on Irikwae, even though it had been a larger item, less elegant, heavier. But the feel against his skin, as if there was a field around the object that made the air plush—that was all too familiar.
He looked at Malu, who was watching him intently.
“You do not have hundreds of these?”
Malu smiled, shook her head—and gasped, a look of horror on her face.
“No, Trader,” she said, and Jethri could see that she didn’t want to speak. “This, it came from the same crash site as the weapon parts Isaddon found, attached to an abandoned uniform jacket. It was not close to the remains of the others…”
She slapped her hand over her mouth.
Jethri looked at her in amaze.
Minsha hissed, her face suddenly red and grim. Vally, who had returned during Jethri’s examination, was staring at her, his face gone pale, the objects in his hands forgotten.
“Bayilta, what—” he began, and stopped, teeth locked, jaw hard.
Jethri looked down at the beautiful stylus, with its glowing enamel work, and pressed his finger against the blue-lit section.
The pearly glow faded.
Vally, or Isaddon, said something harsh under his breath in that language Jethri didn’t know.
Jethri caught a movement from the side of his eye, looked up in time to see Minsha lean back in her chair, her hands empty. She returned his look grimly, and he inclined his head.
“I suppose you do have some familiarity with the oltick,” Vally said, then, slurring what Jethri thought might have been Old Tech. “We had guessed that object had a use, but for three Standards could do no more with it than scratch a line on soft plastic. While you—you snatch our masks off in thirty seconds.”
“Old Tech is unpredictable and dangerous,” Jethri said. “That’s why the Scouts collect it and destroy it. It seems wasteful, to us, and an infringement on trade. But they do have a point.”
He nodded at the stylus, careful not to touch it. “I will place this in the pile of items I want to purchase,” he said. “It’s inactive now, and I would like something to wrap it in.”
“You will buy after only one test?” Vally asked. “Should we not test it on you?”
Vally looked more petulant than disturbed, challenging Jethri with the set of his shoulders.
“I think,” Jethri said carefully, “that one test is sufficient to the day. My need to test something more than once nearly leveled the winery of an ally several years ago, and if there was more to learn of that device I’m glad I didn’t. I gather that at times the devices act for their own goals, and I don’t want to push what luck I’ve had so far.”
Jethri glanced to the advisor, who glanced at Malu, who nodded to Vally.
“Is there more?”
“There are these,” Vally said, bringing forward a transparent box of some unfamiliar material, inside were five objects, each partitioned from the others. At first glance, and second, they appeared to be nothing more than simple wooden puzzles. It was with another sense entirely that he felt them vibrating. He flinched, the fractin going cold in his pocket. These things, he thought, are hungry!
He looked up at Vally.
“Have you had these in the same box all along?”
Vally bit his lip.
“They were each in their own box, but I thought to bring them to you together, and there was this other…”
Jethri shook his hand, raised his hand and pushed at the air.
“Take them away; they’re yours. I want nothing to do with them. If it was my choice, I’d leave them anonymously for some Scout on the way out system, each in their own box, the boxes not close together. I hope you know which box each came from. I advise you to separate them immediately, return them to their own particular boxes, and keep them as far apart as possible until you find a way to get them out of your inventory.”
“You will not want them?”
This from Minsha, who was looking at him sharply.
Jethri shook his head. “I swear, if you paid me to remove them from your ship I would follow my own advice. If I turn the stylus on, I’d say the same. I think Scouts may carry stasis boxes and blankets, which would calm these…things. I won’t have them on my ship.”
Malu’s face was stiff, Vally’s showing a little anger. Jethri waved his hand at the box and the snarling things inside of it.
“If you have more like this, please don’t bring them to me. I don’t want to know about them; I don’t want to be known as a source for them. You decide if you want to be known for these.”
“If not here, if not you—who are we to sell them to?” Malu demanded. “You thrust yourself upon us. You said you knew Old Tech.”
Jethri closed his eyes briefly, supposing he should bow contrition, because she was right, he had forced himself—but his body did not soften into the bow. Rather, it firmed, and he was sitting taller in the chair, feeling his mouth tight, because—she was not right, and not only that, she didn’t think she was right. It was a trade tactic—and a crude one. Make him feel guilty, cast him as an abuser of innocence, so he would buy anything, out of remorse. That was the game.
And he was not playing games.
He opened his eyes, and looked to Malu. Her eyes widened. Beyond her, Minsha bent her head, but not before he had seen the corner of her mouth lift slightly.
“I suggested that you were carrying Old Tech and that you might do well to be rid of it. I also thought you were playing a dangerous game, employing at least one of those devices on the port. You are, according to my…senses…carrying at least one device that is sufficiently powerful to cause problems with authorities, even here, if it’s detected. You must know this. Maybe you want trouble with the port authorities. I think you don’t, or you wouldn’t have called me over here—to trade. We’re not at the moment trading, in fact, you’re coming very close to wasting my time. The devices that brought you to my attention—may I see them, or do we agree that we can’t do business?”
There was a quiet pause, the silence filling with the tension of waiting, the kind of pause that Jethri sometimes found difficult to deal with as a trader. Here, with Balrog a few hundred paces away and Freza waiting…here he was afraid his patience would fall out of orbit pretty quickly.
“You feel it obvious?” Minsha asked, pointedly.
“Yes. I feel it obvious. Vally and Malu at least were carrying devices that were active, if they knew it or not. And active Old Tech devices—they can surprise.” He nodded at the stylus. “We’ve just seen that.”
The three exchanged glances again. Minsha flicked a finger. Malu rose.
“I return,” she said, her voice full of the strange accent that hinted at a language nothing like Looper Terran. She nodded to Vally.
“I, too, will return,” Vally said, and walked with her down the room, and past the screens.
Jethri turned to Minsha, who was looking somewhere between stern and amused.
“Ma’am?” he said politely. “Do you have something to say to me?”
“In fact and indeed. I have something to say to you, Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin.” She leaned forward, moving a hand toward the screens, or maybe past the screens, to wherever Vally and Malu had gone.
“Is this wise, do you think? As you know, eventually the useless and the useful divide themselves. We make delivery of the useful as we can. There ought to be no need to check our work, or our methods.”
Jethri stared at her.
“Make delivery? You didn’t start out to bring those to me, did you? How would you know I’d be here? I barely knew myself until recently.”
It was Minsha’s turn to stare, which she did for what felt like a Standard year, her gaze tracing his features, his hair, his eyes.
Finally, she sighed.
“You are not the Uncle, this I know. Clearly, you are an instance. I mean to say, a brother.”
“I’m not an instance of anybody.” Jethri heard the heat in voice, and took a hard breath, hearing Master ven’Deelin inside his head, gently chiding: Fire eaters catch cold at the trade table, young Jethri.
Another breath, before he said, speaking slowly, giving each word its own space.
“My name is Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin. I’m the adoptive son of Norn ven’Deelin Clan Ixin, son of Arin Gobelyn of Gobelyn’s Market. I’m a Looper born, ’prenticed to Master Trader ven’Deelin of Elthoria. I hold a Combine ten year key. The way I hear it, the person called ‘Uncle’ is my uncle—I mean to say, my father’s brother. I’m here for Sactizzy, as a representative of the Seventeen Worlds. I also represent Arin, my father, who drafted the Envidaria, and which I released.”
Another breath, his gaze locked with Minsha’s.
“I’m not here to take delivery of—anything. I’m not here to check your methods or the quality of your work, whatever it is. I’m here to trade. If you’re expecting anything other than that from me, your expectations are getting in the way of trade.”
Minsha was silent, holding his gaze, still, her face smooth once again. Calm. Whatever was going on in her head, and Jethri was sure it was something, she gave no outward hints.
Eventually, she nodded.
“Yes, it is precisely this that I see,” she said, her voice as calm as her face. “You are young enough to be Arin’s son; old enough and forward enough, too. But this ability to read Old Tech by walking by, or looking at it—that is no ordinary thing, Looper, Liaden, or elsewise. And that you should see members of a forming heptad before the Chafurma—well. We shall have to admire your extraordinary eyes, Trader, and say no more on that topic.”
She paused, maybe waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.
She inclined her head.
“As I honor the brother of your father Arin, I will tell you that your tasks here will not be easily accomplished. This Envidaria you and your father together have proclaimed—it has enemies. I have heard them chattering through their radios. Those two of this ship who you have met, wandered here a seven-day, looking for others of their heptad and finding the early comers for this congress—and among the earliest they find those who wish nothing more than to see you fail.”
She seemed to be earnest. Jethri shook his head.
“If there is no plan—and the Envidaria is a good plan—planets—whole systems!—would be left without trade—isolated until the Dust moves on, however long that might be. It would kill people, I believe it!”
“I believe it, too, son of Arin. I believe too that you will do what you will do, and the universe will be patient with you, for surely you will not be patient with it.”
Minsha tipped her head, gaze distant, as if she contemplated the wall, or the galaxies beyond it. She stirred, her expression gentle, now, one hand raised, as if to soothe him.
“I am glad we have had this moment to speak. I see now my mistake,” she said. “You are no one but yourself, Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin.”
She shook herself and smiled, edged, and slightly mocking.
“Now, let us call those two back in, and have some proper trading.”
Jethri’s fractin warmed slightly when Malu and Vally returned. He had the impression that the same energy that had alerted him to them on-port was in play.
Malu approached first, and placed a delicate blue-linked chain on the table before him. Depending from the chain was an equally delicate flower. He didn’t need the fractin’s increased excitement to note that the flower was made of the same sort of ceramic the real fractins were cast from. He also knew, by what process he couldn’t have said, that the artifact was active, and—malicious.
Vally came forward and placed a bulkier item beside the necklace—it looked electronic, but again, cast from fractin material. This was not aware in the way the necklace was, but Jethri felt the hairs rise on his arms, and spared a thought for the safety of the comm on his belt.
Head bent, he considered the two items for a little longer than he required, wanting to maximize the effect of the tension.
Finally, he looked up, and met their eyes, first Malu, then Vally.
“Do you know what these items do?” he asked, keeping his voice merely curious. “You were using them on-port this morning. They were active, and I think you had the results you expected.”
Malu looked hard to Minsha who kept a bland face, though her shoulders moved, just a fraction.
Vally broke the quiet.
“We have not had formal training; but these came to us with notes. One of them lets you push something with your thought. Not hard, not very violently, but push anyway. The other one,” he looked at Malu, “the other interferes with video transmission or reception, or the operation, it is not really clear, there’s no science about why in the papers…but it can be useful if you wish someone to not see you where you stand, assuming they use video rather than eyes to see with.”
“You have practical uses for this, then?”
“It is in the nature of what we can do for the ship while we search for others who have the need to be elsewhere, soon, who can use a ship with an unclear destination.”
Jethri nodded.
“Yes, I can see that you might find such people here, at the congress, people with changed futures and pasts that need forgetting.”
Malu’s quiet voice was wistful.
“More than on most ports, magiestro, because you try to make large waves in what will happen. Someone living ten years to move up to a berth on a large trade ship in this arm, only to find the ship moved to another? Someone who was about to sell off a factory ship running skimpy in a three way Loop and now they find they may be the only ship able to cover the need with the Dust coming? What of the crew already warned to find a new berth, what of them? But you, you are responsible for all these unhappinesses and more!”
Jethri’s ears heated, and he felt his shoulders tighten.
“I’m bringing a solution,” he snapped. “I didn’t make the Dust.”
He spoke more loudly than he had intended. He took a breath and made a small, seated bow to all.
“Forgive me,” he said, and not I’m sorry, because he had nothing to be sorry for!
He waved a hand over the objects on the table.
“I’ll trade for these items you offer, which you should offer to me now if you want them gone. If you don’t, then take them off the table now.”
Vally’s mouth set. Malu’s fingers twitched toward the pretty necklace, but she met Jethri’s eyes, and shook her head.
He nodded slightly.
“Sometimes, the Old Tech…forms an attachment,” Jethri said, softly.
Malu’s eyes lifted to his face, and she shook her head once, hard.
“Make an offer, Trader.”
“I will, yes. In addition to the objects, I will want the notes Vally mentioned, what you have learned, as users; and to be shown how to activate and deactivate them. If there is a special bag or box in which they should be stored, I will want those.” He looked at Vally. “If you have such, bring them now.”
Vally shook his head. “There is nothing, Trader. The necklace came wrapped in a piece of silk, long lost. The…device came to hand as you see it. We have kept notes. I will get them and the information that came with them.”
He turned and vanished behind the screens.
Jethri looked at Minsha and Malu.
“My offer is good for this meeting, right now. If I leave without them, they are your problems, and I advise again that they will very likely be sought by authorities, and that this will not be pleasant or useful for you or your ship.”
Minsha inclined her head. Malu nodded.
“We are selling now, Trader,” she said somberly. “I must ask—you will take the fractins?”
“If you have fractins worth having, I’ll offer on them. I must see and count before I can make an offer on all of what I agree to buy. I need to satisfy my wallet and my storage space.”
“If we trade for the fractins, I think we must trade for all of them, magiestro,” Malu said, not bothering to glance at Minsha. “We, too, can use the storage space.”
There were many large sealed cases of fractins, each requiring a trundle cart or two men to carry; and in them were thousands of the ceramic things and a dozen or more racks to hold them. Jethri’s fractin was quiet until the seal on the first case was released.
Jethri was afraid his pocket might burst, so energetic was the reaction of his one fractin.
He looked into the case, the grey squares seeming identical to a quick glance at a distance, though several were obvious fakes. He ran his fingers through them, stirring them, letting them cascade…and there, right there, vibrating among the junk, appearing to slough off the grey imitations around it, a fractin vibrating in time to the one in his pocket.
He ran his hands through another part of the collection, and…felt another vibration from the far side of the case, and a third, deeper in the mass.
“Yes,” he said, “I’ll take this case.”
There’d been seventeen bags and cases, and Jethri’d taken them all, with the stylus, necklace, and the jamming device. Then, of course, he had to move them.
Minsha had kindly allowed him the use of Elsvair’s trundle and he’d made two trips to Genchi, passing Balrog’s dock and the hatch open and welcome, and feeling free to call himself all kinds of an idiot in the privacy of his own head.
He paused after he got the second case stowed, to catch his breath and embroider on his theme before he grabbed the trundle’s handle and—
“We can take it from here, Jeth, if you got more,” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind. “Saw the first two go by.”
He turned, his grin something shamefaced.
We was Freza, dressed semi-fancy it seemed to him and looking really good, both paler and taller than he remembered after all his time living among Liadens—and a taller Terran-looking man dressed semi-fancy himself, with Balrog’s logo on his suit cuff, and looking DeNobli in the face, though Jethri didn’t think he’d seen him before.
The unknown was handling a trundle sturdier and bigger, and more automated than the one on loan from Elsvair, and Jethri looked at it with real longing.
“It’s not Genchi’s cargo,” he told them; “it’s mine. I’m taking delivery personally to get it aboard.”
Freza looked at her companion.
“Now, wasn’t that just like I told you?” she asked him, and shook her head. “I bet he has help waiting behind that hatch, but he’s crossing thresholds and all.”
“Trader’s gonna trade,” the companion said, with a nod and a smile at Jethri.
Freza waved a casual hand at him.
“Jeth, this is cousin Chiv. He’s DeNobli-side with a touch of Wilde somewhere, we’re pretty sure, almost. Been studying ship systems with us. If he don’t get snapped up at the trade fair, he’ll be sitting second on Balrog.”
“Trader.” Cousin Chiv’s voice was pleasant and low; he touched his forehead in a brief salute. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And we’re standing here on the dock with goods to shift,” Freza said. “C’mon, let’s get this thing moving. The longer we’re out here the longer he’s not sitting comfortable on my deck!”
“My cargo,” Jethri said again, not wanting her to make a mistake, and be part of his mess if Elsvair decided to play more games. Since it was his cargo, Genchi would likewise be exempt from that kind of trouble.
Freza looked at him reprovingly.
“Now, I know Liadens care about kin, so it must be you forgot about us being cousins.”
“Cousins” was what Loopers from different ships were on ports where one or all had gotten into trouble with Ground authorities. Jethri gave Freza a grin.
“Never forget that,” he assured her, and looked to the other part of their kin-circle.
“Cousin Chiv, been a while. I’d appreciate your hand on this, and that’s a fact.”
“Let’s go, then,” his new cousin said agreeably, and they turned back to Elsvair, trundles trundling, and Freza walking beside.
There were quick introductions at Elsvair’s dock—ships and call-names. Jethri took delivery of the last bagged items while Chiv got four containers onto his bigger trundle, and the last onto Jethri’s. Jethri settled the bags securely, and they were for Genchi again.
Glancing back, he noticed that Malu and Vally had lingered, apparently to admire Freza’s progress down-dock.
“Jeez, Jeth,” she said quietly, leaning in to him. “What’d you do? Buy a pod-load of fractins?”
He laughed. “What can I say? Everybody knows I’m a fool for fractins.”
She stopped and put her hand on his arm.
“Jethri Gobelyn, you ain’t a fool, and don’t think you can tell me you are, even for a laugh. Now, I’m lookin’ forward to you showing me this ship of yours—the one you’re senior trader for? The ship that outpods the Market by twice or more and Balrog by six, if I seen it right. Why, I’m betting a ship that big has a lot of dark spaces where we can listen for ghosts.”
Loading in to Genchi went quick, with Chiv’s help, and Jethri sighed in mingled relief, hope, and thankfulness, Jethri’s quietest smile breaking out a couple times with the understanding that “looking for ghosts” was a well-known Looper excuse for finding a private space to bundle in.
“Cousin,” he said. “I ’preciate your help. Take a tour, and have a brew?” He nodded at Genchi’s hatch.
“That’s an agreeable thought,” Chiv said, with a fair semblance of regret. “I’m on deck soonest, though. Let me take a look later, when we both got some time. Deal?”
“Deal,” Jethri agreed.
Chiv turned to Freza.
“I’ll just get this back to Elsvair—send another cousin over from Balrog to pick up ours when I go by.”
“Sounds the best plan,” she said.
“Cousin,” Chiv said to Jethri. “Word of notice—you’re gonna be hearing a whole lot about traders having no respect for personal free time, if you let that woman onto your decks.”
“Out!” Freza yelled, moving toward him. “I’m on my own time, and you’re spending it!”
Laughing, he spun, trundle in hand, escaping Freza’s half-hearted kick at his backside.
“Cousins,” she muttered, and turned back to Jethri.
“You off-shift, Trader?”
He nodded and wiped his brow, embarrassed at his overheated state. Freza—
“You look fine,” he told her, and drew a breath, sweeping a hand toward Genchi’s hatch in a gesture that was partly a Liaden bow of welcome.
“Like a tour?”
“It’s why I came. I’m on my own time, like the cousin said, and I’m in for the whole tour, if you are.”
His breath caught, and then he caught her hand.
“The whole tour,” he said. “Sure, I’m in for that.”