[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
him buy his suits even in nearby Ferd. Always Fara had protested, "How can I
expect the local merchants to bring their repair work to me if my family doesn't
deal with them?" And having asked the unanswerable question, the older man
would not listen to further appeals.
"And here I am," Cayle thought, "stripped because that old fool-" The futile anger
faded. Because large towns like Ferd probably had their own special brand of
cloth, as easily identifiable as anything in Glay. The unfairness of it, he saw with
reaching clarity, went far beyond the stubborn stupidity of one man.
But it was good to know, even at this eleventh hour.
The colonel was stirring. And, once more, Cayle pressed his question. "But how
did you get into the Army? How did you become an officer in the first place?"
The drunken man said something about the empress having a damned nerve
complaining about tax money. And then there was something about the attack on
the weapon shops being a damned nuisance, but that wasn't clear. Another
remark about some two-timing dames who had better watch out made Cayle
visualize an officer who maintained several mistresses. And then, finally came the
answer to his question.
"I paid five thousand credits for my commission-damn crime . . ." He gabbled
again for a minute, then, "Empress insists on giving them out for nothing right
now. Won't do it. A man's got to have his graft." Indignantly, "I sure paid plenty."
"You mean," Cayle urged, "commissions are available now without money? Is
that what you mean?" In his anxiety, he grabbed the man's sleeve.
The officer's eyes, which had been half closed, jerked open. They glared at Cayle
suspiciously. "Who are you?" he snapped. "Get away from me." His voice was
a
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Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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r r
harsh, briefly almost sober. "By God," he said, "you can't travel these days
without picking up some leech. I've a good mind to have you arrested."
Cayle stood up, flushing. He staggered as he walked away. He felt shaken and on
the verge of panic. He was being hit too hard and too often.
The blur faded slowly from his mind. He saw that he had paused to peer into the
forward cocktail bar. Seal and his companions were still there. The sight of them
stiffened him and he knew why he had come back to look at them. There was a
will to action growing in him, a determination not to let them get away with what
they had done. But first he'd need some information.
He spun on his heel and headed straight for the weapon shop girl, who sat in one
corner reading a book, a slim, handsome young woman of twenty years or so. Her
eyes studied his face as he described how his money had been stolen. Cayle
finished. "Here's what I want to know. Would you advise me to go to the
captain?"
She shook her head. "No," she said, "I wouldn't do that. The captain and the crew
receive a forty percent cut on most of these ships. They'd help dispose of your
body."
Cayle leaned back in his seat. He felt drained of vitality.
The trip, his first beyond Ferd, was taking toll of his strength. "How is it?" he
asked finally, straightening, "that they didn't pick you? Oh, I know you probably
aren't wearing village type clothes, but how do they select?"
The girl shook her head. "These men," she said, "go around surreptitiously using
transparencies. The first thing they discover is, if you're wearing a weapon shop
gun. Then they leave you strictly alone."
Cayle's face hardened. "Could I borrow yours?" he asked tautly. "I'll show those
skunks."
The girl shrugged. "Weapon shop guns are tuned to individuals," she said. "Mine
wouldn't work for you. And, besides, you can use it only for defense. It's too late
for you to defend yourself."
Cayle stared gloomily down through the myradel floor. The beauty below mocked
him. The splendor of the towns that appeared every few minutes merelv
deepened his depression. Slowly the desperation came back. It seemed to him
suddenly that Lucy Rail was his last hope and that he had to persuade her to help
him. He said, "Isn't there anything that the weapon shops do besides sell guns?"
The girl hesitated. "We have an information center," she said finally.
"What do you mean-information? What kind of information?"
"Oh, everything. Where people were born. How much money they have. What
crimes thev've committed or are committing. Of course, we don't interfere."
Cayle frowned at her, simultanenuslv dissatisfied and fascinated. He had not
intended to be distracted but for years there had been questions in his mind
about the weapon shops. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
him buy his suits even in nearby Ferd. Always Fara had protested, "How can I
expect the local merchants to bring their repair work to me if my family doesn't
deal with them?" And having asked the unanswerable question, the older man
would not listen to further appeals.
"And here I am," Cayle thought, "stripped because that old fool-" The futile anger
faded. Because large towns like Ferd probably had their own special brand of
cloth, as easily identifiable as anything in Glay. The unfairness of it, he saw with
reaching clarity, went far beyond the stubborn stupidity of one man.
But it was good to know, even at this eleventh hour.
The colonel was stirring. And, once more, Cayle pressed his question. "But how
did you get into the Army? How did you become an officer in the first place?"
The drunken man said something about the empress having a damned nerve
complaining about tax money. And then there was something about the attack on
the weapon shops being a damned nuisance, but that wasn't clear. Another
remark about some two-timing dames who had better watch out made Cayle
visualize an officer who maintained several mistresses. And then, finally came the
answer to his question.
"I paid five thousand credits for my commission-damn crime . . ." He gabbled
again for a minute, then, "Empress insists on giving them out for nothing right
now. Won't do it. A man's got to have his graft." Indignantly, "I sure paid plenty."
"You mean," Cayle urged, "commissions are available now without money? Is
that what you mean?" In his anxiety, he grabbed the man's sleeve.
The officer's eyes, which had been half closed, jerked open. They glared at Cayle
suspiciously. "Who are you?" he snapped. "Get away from me." His voice was
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
harsh, briefly almost sober. "By God," he said, "you can't travel these days
without picking up some leech. I've a good mind to have you arrested."
Cayle stood up, flushing. He staggered as he walked away. He felt shaken and on
the verge of panic. He was being hit too hard and too often.
The blur faded slowly from his mind. He saw that he had paused to peer into the
forward cocktail bar. Seal and his companions were still there. The sight of them
stiffened him and he knew why he had come back to look at them. There was a
will to action growing in him, a determination not to let them get away with what
they had done. But first he'd need some information.
He spun on his heel and headed straight for the weapon shop girl, who sat in one
corner reading a book, a slim, handsome young woman of twenty years or so. Her
eyes studied his face as he described how his money had been stolen. Cayle
finished. "Here's what I want to know. Would you advise me to go to the
captain?"
She shook her head. "No," she said, "I wouldn't do that. The captain and the crew
receive a forty percent cut on most of these ships. They'd help dispose of your
body."
Cayle leaned back in his seat. He felt drained of vitality.
The trip, his first beyond Ferd, was taking toll of his strength. "How is it?" he
asked finally, straightening, "that they didn't pick you? Oh, I know you probably
aren't wearing village type clothes, but how do they select?"
The girl shook her head. "These men," she said, "go around surreptitiously using
transparencies. The first thing they discover is, if you're wearing a weapon shop
gun. Then they leave you strictly alone."
Cayle's face hardened. "Could I borrow yours?" he asked tautly. "I'll show those
skunks."
The girl shrugged. "Weapon shop guns are tuned to individuals," she said. "Mine
wouldn't work for you. And, besides, you can use it only for defense. It's too late
for you to defend yourself."
Cayle stared gloomily down through the myradel floor. The beauty below mocked
him. The splendor of the towns that appeared every few minutes merelv
deepened his depression. Slowly the desperation came back. It seemed to him
suddenly that Lucy Rail was his last hope and that he had to persuade her to help
him. He said, "Isn't there anything that the weapon shops do besides sell guns?"
The girl hesitated. "We have an information center," she said finally.
"What do you mean-information? What kind of information?"
"Oh, everything. Where people were born. How much money they have. What
crimes thev've committed or are committing. Of course, we don't interfere."
Cayle frowned at her, simultanenuslv dissatisfied and fascinated. He had not
intended to be distracted but for years there had been questions in his mind
about the weapon shops. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]