they're
palsy-walsy, but I don't trust the dastards," the travel agent elaborated.
"I
put you on stand-by for 79, which you missed. Hardly my fault."
"Anything
else going that way?" Retief asked.
"Certainly not!" was the reply. "No one with good sense would want to go
out to any of those frontier hell-holes with all these Ree infiltrating,
anyway."
"Right,"
Retief said firmly. As he turned away, an elderly Yill bystander with the
appearance of a soup-kitchen regular put out a scrawny gray hand and said in a
ratchety voice:
"Hold
hard, Terry. Happens my vessel is bound for Tip space. Might be able to help
you out, if you've got no objection to riding with a cargo of glimp eggs which
I admit I held a bit too long, waiting for the market to go up."
"Thanks,
Captain," Retief replied. "When are we lifting?"
"Well,"
the old spacedog replied, "See, I've got this bad leg, so if you want to
take the load in for me, I'll see you get ten percent, plus of course it's a
free ride. I'll need about a hundred Guck for port fees."
Retief
handed over a hundred-Guck note and accompanied his new acquaintance, Captain
M'hu hu by name, to the transport bar, where the old fellow downed a dozen
stiff shots of Hellrose before Retief had finished his Bacchus black.
"
Feller'd hafta be crazy to go out there in these here parlous times," the
captain commented. His bleary gaze fell on Retief. "Figger to get me drunk
and con me into letting you ride along without no visa, eh, Terry? Well, you
picked the wrong pigeon; 'Cap M'hu hu can hold his booze' is a saying that's
knowed from Azoll to Zoob: So you can just dust off, Terry, after you buy me
one more."
Retief
took the old fellow by his bony elbow, led him out along a service passage to
the glass wall fronting the wind-swept ramp where space-scarred hulls in
fantastic variety stood festooned with service cables. Captain M'hu hu pointed
out one of the shabbiest, parked well down the line, as his own command, Cockroach
III.
"Fine a
little embargo-buster as ever run a load of Feeb seed into Groac, and the
five-eyed little beggars are allergic to it," he stated proudly.
Retief
requested and received, not without protest, the undocking codes and master
electro-key, the captain grumpily accepting a second hundred-Guck note in
return.
"Place
she's programmed for they call Goblin-rock; you hear a lotta superstitions
about the place. Actually, it's jest about deserted; watch out for some big
gray cactus things, is all. You'll get there OK, maybe," M'hu hu guessed,
"but getting back out's somethin else. So long, sucker."
Retief
bade M'hu hu farewell, but as he started through the door leading outside, the
old fellow set up an outcry like a gut-shot dire-beast, yelling that he hadn't
been paid. Retief up-ended the noisy old grifter in a handy public convenience,
and boarded the ancient vessel without further complications. After a few
minutes devoted to scanning the operating manual, he used the electrokey, and
lifted off.
2
The
rattles, buzzes, clatters, knocks, thumps and wails of the old tub, Retief soon
noticed, were more noisy than threatening. The thousandtonner lifted smoothly;
the autopilot, already programmed, maneuvered the craft through the intricate
departure pattern and took up course, Retief noted, in the general direction of
Gold-blatt's remote world.
Days
passed without incident, other than a half-hearted pass by a Ree torpedo boat
whose peremptory hail Retief ignored. A few hours later, a heavy gunboat
bearing the Ree blazon closed course with the
palsy-walsy, but I don't trust the dastards," the travel agent elaborated.
"I
put you on stand-by for 79, which you missed. Hardly my fault."
"Anything
else going that way?" Retief asked.
"Certainly not!" was the reply. "No one with good sense would want to go
out to any of those frontier hell-holes with all these Ree infiltrating,
anyway."
"Right,"
Retief said firmly. As he turned away, an elderly Yill bystander with the
appearance of a soup-kitchen regular put out a scrawny gray hand and said in a
ratchety voice:
"Hold
hard, Terry. Happens my vessel is bound for Tip space. Might be able to help
you out, if you've got no objection to riding with a cargo of glimp eggs which
I admit I held a bit too long, waiting for the market to go up."
"Thanks,
Captain," Retief replied. "When are we lifting?"
"Well,"
the old spacedog replied, "See, I've got this bad leg, so if you want to
take the load in for me, I'll see you get ten percent, plus of course it's a
free ride. I'll need about a hundred Guck for port fees."
Retief
handed over a hundred-Guck note and accompanied his new acquaintance, Captain
M'hu hu by name, to the transport bar, where the old fellow downed a dozen
stiff shots of Hellrose before Retief had finished his Bacchus black.
"
Feller'd hafta be crazy to go out there in these here parlous times," the
captain commented. His bleary gaze fell on Retief. "Figger to get me drunk
and con me into letting you ride along without no visa, eh, Terry? Well, you
picked the wrong pigeon; 'Cap M'hu hu can hold his booze' is a saying that's
knowed from Azoll to Zoob: So you can just dust off, Terry, after you buy me
one more."
Retief
took the old fellow by his bony elbow, led him out along a service passage to
the glass wall fronting the wind-swept ramp where space-scarred hulls in
fantastic variety stood festooned with service cables. Captain M'hu hu pointed
out one of the shabbiest, parked well down the line, as his own command, Cockroach
III.
"Fine a
little embargo-buster as ever run a load of Feeb seed into Groac, and the
five-eyed little beggars are allergic to it," he stated proudly.
Retief
requested and received, not without protest, the undocking codes and master
electro-key, the captain grumpily accepting a second hundred-Guck note in
return.
"Place
she's programmed for they call Goblin-rock; you hear a lotta superstitions
about the place. Actually, it's jest about deserted; watch out for some big
gray cactus things, is all. You'll get there OK, maybe," M'hu hu guessed,
"but getting back out's somethin else. So long, sucker."
Retief
bade M'hu hu farewell, but as he started through the door leading outside, the
old fellow set up an outcry like a gut-shot dire-beast, yelling that he hadn't
been paid. Retief up-ended the noisy old grifter in a handy public convenience,
and boarded the ancient vessel without further complications. After a few
minutes devoted to scanning the operating manual, he used the electrokey, and
lifted off.
2
The
rattles, buzzes, clatters, knocks, thumps and wails of the old tub, Retief soon
noticed, were more noisy than threatening. The thousandtonner lifted smoothly;
the autopilot, already programmed, maneuvered the craft through the intricate
departure pattern and took up course, Retief noted, in the general direction of
Gold-blatt's remote world.
Days
passed without incident, other than a half-hearted pass by a Ree torpedo boat
whose peremptory hail Retief ignored. A few hours later, a heavy gunboat
bearing the Ree blazon closed course with the
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