A Mind For Trade Part 7

Chapter Eight.

"No!" Tooe's voice was shrill. "No good!" And she talked on in rapid Rigelian, mixing in what sounded to Rip like a few words of the Tathi language.

Rip saw Dane frown in concentration. The cargo master's understanding of Rigelian, after weeks of talking with Tooe, was as good as hers of Terran-or nearly. But he seldom spoke in the difficult, hissing language. "Life-obligation?" he said at last, and shook his head.

Tooe whistled, a rapid series of notes that indicated distress. Then she turned to Rip. "Gift of life mean you own life. Bad, bad, bad-"

"-Unless we want slaves?" Dane interjected drily. "By the lords of s.p.a.ce! When we mess up, we really mess up nova-size."

"Slaves?" Rip repeated in amazement. "What? This isn't more of the ghost superst.i.tion, is it?"

"No!" Tooe exclaimed, her voice going high again.

"Explain, please?" Rip asked, working his neck. Would this day ever end? The hike back to the Queen had taken even longer than the trip out, and at the end, when they were already struggling just to stay upright, they had been pounded by a sudden shower of rain. He was exhausted, longing for his bed.

Most of the crew had already gone to their cabins; the Hesprid-IV chrono lacked just a couple of hours until sunup. Only Tau and Tooe had remained awake, waiting in the mess cabin for'their return.

Suddenly Rip felt a flicker of double awareness-Jasper and Ali, both soundly asleep. Tiredness seemed to flood through him, dragging at limbs and brain. As Tooe began to talk, he forced himself to his feet, and drew a hot mug of jakek.

"Gifts outside clan groups only in treaty," Tooe said. "Small gift mean small obligation, but big gift, gift of lives, mean obligation of lives. Tath Traders have camp, have equipment. You take ore, go away, they finish lives here. You offer gift, take them to port, that means give life back. They owe life to you if they take offer."

Rip groaned. "I wish I'd kept my mouth shut." He couldn't help grimacing at Dane. "You weren't in any hurry to stop me."

Dane sighed. "Because I felt the same sense of pity- compa.s.sion-whatever. I thought it was a fine gesture."

Tooe's crest flickered. "You not read files?"

"Of course I read the files," Dane said, so tired he was unable to hide his exasperation. Not that Tooe seemed perturbed; she apparently knew as well as Rip did that the cargo master wasn't angry with Tooe, but with himself. "I read about the obligation business-of course-but I equated that with treaty-making. It translated out in my mind to a kind of Trade. Barter. Things for service. But my understanding was that both sides agreed to the conditions first. I thought Rip's offer would escape that because he set no conditions. He offered them pa.s.sage freely."

Tooe shook her head, her crest flicking up. "But they know lives are condition. Either life finish here, or life given back on ship. See now?"

"See now," Dane said gravely. "Tooe, you're overdue for rest. Go get some sleep. We'll talk again in the morning. I know I'm going to need your help when I go back to face them, and I want you fresh and ready for action."

Tooe looked from one to the other, her crest at a hopeful angle. Then she got up and walked out.

Rip opened his mouth, was surprised when Dane raised a hand to stop him from speaking. In silence they listened to the tuneless clangor of the ladder as Tooe went down to the lower deck. Then Dane said, "I want to make her our locu-tor, and go back to the camp tomorrow night and straighten things out."

"Locutor?" Rip repeated. "But from what you told me, that's an official spokesperson. She's so new to the crew, and barely nineteen years old-"

Dane shook his head impatiently. "I was just about her age when I first signed on aboard the Queen, raw from the Pool. Sure she has a lot to learn, but she knows that-she's been studying Trade data going years back. Just as I did in Pool. And I graduated knowing how little I knew. Yet Van trusted me enough to give me some real responsibilities within my first couple of journeys."

Rip felt the pressure of decision weighing on him. Had Jellico found it this hard? Jellico put me in charge of the Queen, he thought. How did he feel handing off his own ship to someone who was still an apprentice only half a year ago?

Age-experience-ability. Somehow a captain, if he or she wanted to be a good captain, had to be able to evaluate them all, and a host of lesser virtues and vices, and not judge a person on just a single quality. Rip realized he had some thinking to do.

He looked up and saw question in Tau's eyes. The medic and Dane were both waiting for an answer.

"Good idea," Rip said.

And Tau nodded, his approval obvious.

"You two finish planning," he said with a smile. "I'm for the rack."

Then Rip realized that, as he'd been evaluating Tooe, he himself had been taking a kind of test without knowing it. And he'd pa.s.sed.

Daylight was well advanced when Rip woke up. He checked the viewport, saw the diffuse white light of fog.

When he got down to the mess cabin, he found Dane already there, watching a white screen. Rip walked up, realized he was looking at the exterior view. The fog was so thick that the ground was difficult to make out.

"I see them," Dane murmured. "Floaters. I'm sure of it."

Rip squinted at the screen. Dane damped the glare with a quick touch to the keypad.

Rip shook his head, his gaze still on the screen. "I don't see anything."

"Watch."

They stood side by side. Soon Rip was able to discern subtle patterns in the thick mist. Rip felt almost mesmerized by the swirling vapors. A couple of times he thought he saw the gleam of pearly gray drifting in the fog, never too close, but then it would fade, and he figured he was just seeing the landscape through the less dense vapors.

"Floater-patrol?" came a new voice.

Rip glanced over his shoulder. Ali sauntered in, his eyes slightly puffy. Rip knew the engineer was taking some kind of drug which he'd gotten from Tau. He wondered, looking at those eyes, if Ali was doubling his dose.

Dane said without looking away from the screen, "I think they're out there."

"Hear 'em up here, eh, Viking?" Ali tapped his head.

Dane didn't see the gesture. His back was still to the mess. Nor did he answer.

Ali shrugged, casting an amused glance Rip's way, and he sauntered over to get himself a substantial breakfast. Rip, watching him dig in, decided that whatever drug Kamil was taking did not interfere with his appet.i.te any.

Tooe showed up a few moments later. Today, Rip noted with approval, there was a little of her characteristic bounce to her walk-though necessarily muted by the unrelenting gravity. She fixed a bowl of the chilled, chopped tubers she was so fond of, mixing them with rice, and plopped onto a chair, planting her webbed toes on the the edge of the seat, her k.n.o.bby knees at her ears, her thin elbows tucked close next to her body. Her half-crouch half-squat looked highly uncomfortable to Rip, but she seemed content as she attacked her food.

Johann Stotz appeared then and cast an appraising glance around. "We need an inventory on the Traders' supplies and equipment as soon as you can get it," he said to Dane without preamble. "We don't have enough supplies of our own to be duplicating anything."

"We still need to straighten out last night's misunderstanding," Dane said.

"Do it." Johan paused to sip at his jakek, and he sighed. "Craig and I ran some numbers on the wind velocities and the tidal movements, and we're both afraid we won't get much done if the winters are as bad as we predict. And we were conservative. If we're to pay our way back on this venture, we need to get moving."

"We're going back tonight," Rip said. "That is, if the fog lifts. And another force-nine storm doesn't hit." To Tooe he said, "You are now appointed our locutor. You'll be going with us."

Tooe looked up, her crest flicking at its most alert angle. The little being radiated pride and enthusiasm. "I help!" she fluted. "ItalkTathi."

Everyone was grinning. Rip indicated Stotz as he said, "Keep Johan's requirements in mind. We'll plan this in more detail later."

Craig Tau walked in right then, and Rip said, "I forgot to tell you last night. One of them appears to be ill. We asked about her, but were given the brush-off."

" '-Parkku end life in freedom,' " Dane said. "The exact words, or close enough." He glanced over at Tooe. "I suppose this means more of the obligation business."

Tooe nodded vigorously.

"Anyway, if we get everything straightened out, we might be needing your medical services."

"What kind of biology are we talking about here?" Tau asked.

Dane said, "I didn't get a good look. Small person, humanoid-they're all humanoids. Dappled skin, browns of various shades. Looked like elephant hide. I only glimpsed the hands and face; the rest of her was in uniform." He indicated his own brown Free Trader tunic.

"Parkku," Tau said. "Sounds like a Berran. Small features? Broad back, reminds you almost of a turtle?"

Dane snapped his fingers. "Now that you mention it."

Tau nodded. "Berrans don't often leave their world. Rest of the universe is too hot for them." He smiled slightly. "This crew is better adapted to this planet than any of us. The Tath fur is waterproof and keeps them well insulated, and the Berrans are used to subzero temperatures and scouring winds."

"Sounds like Hesprid IV is a picnic spot for them," Ali drawled, lounging back in his chair. "Cheery thought."

"If we can clear away the misunderstandings and get them to team with us, at least for the duration, then that might work to our advantage," Mura said from the hatchway to the galley.

Tooe nodded. "We fix," she said, and whistled a quick flight of notes. Then she smacked her scrawny chest. "I know about Tath, me. They live for Trade!"

A few hours later, Rip recalled those words as he watched the Tath slowly emerge from their camp.

He and Dane and Tooe had gotten into winter gear. All three had on their helmets, which lit the way as they fought a rising wind. This trip to the camp seemed to take much longer than the first; whether it was the wind, or antic.i.p.ation, Rip wasn't sure. He just wished they had some kind of transport. Clambering over rocks in a howling gale did not add to anyone's peace of mind.

He saw Dane hovering just behind Tooe, who struggled against the wind and the uneven terrain. She was wearing- for what Rip suspected was the first time in her life-the shoes that Dane has insisted they get for her when she first signed on as crew. She had insisted that they were comfortable, but she walked as if someone had slipped eggs into them. Rip suspected that the effort it took to balance on the rough, steeply inclined hillside added strain to her muscles. She never complained though, just tweeted rather limp-sounding thanks when Dane caught her just as she was about to trip or fall. This happened more often than Rip liked-especially toward the end of their trek.

But they reached the camp without further incident, and as soon as the Traders appeared, Tooe gathered energy from somewhere inside her and launched into a flood of Tathi words. She probably spoke too quickly; Rip heard what he rather thought were phrases of Rigelian here and there, and some Terran, but the Traders listened without interrupting.

When she finished, they started talking rapidly with one another, showing more animation than he and Dane had ever seen from them. Not just the Tath, but the others; Rip realized one of the Tath was translating to the others when he heard Trade patois mixed with another language.

He also realized as he watched the interplay that Lossin, the locutor, was not the leader. Like Tooe, he seemed to have been chosen for his ability with Terran. It was to a tall female whose fur was sprinkled with silver streaking that the others kept turning. She was the quietest of the four Tath, listening to everyone.

Finally she spoke, rapidly and softly, in a low, mellow voice that reminded Rip of some kind of wind instrument.

Lossin then approached Tooe. "Tazcin speaks. We Trade."

The grayish-furred leader loomed over Tooe, and held out her hand, palm out, fingers pointing up. Tooe flicked her thin blue hand up, palm out as well, and the hands met.

Then Tooe's crest flicked upright. She turned to Dane and Rip, her att.i.tude triumphant. "They hear us now! We trade for ore, we trade for pa.s.sage, we trade for camp things, we trade for medicine-"

Dane laughed. "Damp down, Tooe. One thing at a time!"

Tooe whirled about. "What first, Lossin?"

Rip felt the urge to laugh, and squelched it. It was amply obvious that Tooe was thoroughly enjoying herself. He did not want to risk making the wrong move, though, so he stood silent and pa.s.sive-seeming-just as their leader did.

"Camp," Lossin said, pointing back up the mountain. "We show you."

"We see. Then trade," Tooe said with a nod.

This, apparently, seemed eminently reasonable to everyone. The Ariadne Traders-except the sick one-formed into a single-file line and started walking. Dane and Tooe fell in behind. As he followed, Rip wondered why he hadn't thought of "see, then trade" before. Or more importantly, why hadn't Dane?

Because I told him how I wanted the talk to go, Rip thought, his mood sobering. And then I made the supposedly compa.s.sionate gesture that made things worse. And Dane was apparently unsure enough of himself-being as new to cargo master as I am to captain-that he followed.

Rip did not like to think what would have happened if they had not taken Tooe on as a new crewmember.

And it would have happened under his captaincy.

Chapter Nine.

Dane keyed his helmet comlink on and reported quietly: "We're in."

And a second later he sensed a flash of triumph from Jasper and Ali. The direction was distinct: he knew they were on the Queen's control deck. A moment later the peculiar mental flash altered-Ali was irritated.

It was all so swift, and so vivid, that Dane wondered if he'd imagined it. He certainly would have a.s.sumed so before Tau's memorable psi discussion, he realized. After all, he would expect them to be waiting for word, and even the emotional reactions were predictable.

But he knew it had been real. He couldn't predict when he'd make those connections, and he certainly couldn't control them, but he knew they were real.

As they climbed a steep trail, he glanced back at Rip. Shannon's pleasant, dark face wore a closed expression; he was either concentrating on thoughts of his own, or else on the difficulty of the trail. There was no sign from him of his having experienced a similar psi flash.

"Cave ahead," Lossin said, pointing toward an outcropping of volcanic rock.

They all glanced up; Tooe slipped on a stone, and chirped her distress. Dane shot his hand out and caught her arm before she could fall back on the trail. He resolved as he up-righted her again that he was going to have to teach her how to fall when she lost her balance; when tired she tended to react as if she were in null grav, reaching for the nearest object to bounce herself off of. In this case she would have smashed into a mossy boulder.

She tweeted her thanks, and turned back to the climb, her crest flattened out in concentration-and-effort mode. Noting it, Dane enjoyed a private grin. There was no psi connection with his little Rigelian apprentice, but he didn't need one. That flexible webbed crest, and her expressive whistles and chirps, made her emotions clear enough. As they rounded the last of the outcropping of rock and walked across a wide, flattened area, he wondered if she was even capable of hiding her reactions.

The cave was a dark fissure in the side of the mountain. The Queen's Traders followed the others inside.

"Flitters there," Lossin said, pointing farther inside the cave, the floor of which had been blasted smooth. One of the other Tath tabbed a control on his belt, activating a remote, and lights flooded on. Deep inside the cave they saw four flitters parked: awkward, joint-winged craft, resembling an unlikely cross between a bat and the more familiar fan-ducted Terran vehicles. Dane stole a glance at Rip and saw an expression that echoed his own feelings: such craft would deserve the term flitter far more than the almost stolid Terran machines they were used to. The Tath, it seemed, had a very different esthetic of engineering.

But despite the strangeness of the craft, and the fact that they obviously couldn't lift much more than their human cargo, Dane felt his heart accelerate. If they could get the use of those!.

He glanced back, met a slight nod from Rip. The navigator's lips were moving: he was already reporting to those waiting at the Queen. Good.

"One water transport, established five kilometers that way," Lossin added, waving.

Dane nodded. It would be stored nearest their launch point for the current mining site, of course. That made good sense.