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Chapter 25




A SERVITOR BROUGHT IN a large decanter of port wine, another a box of cigars, a third golden ashtrays and lighters. When these had been set down on the table the robots retired. Drongo Kane got up from his chair, took, as though by right, the Duchess’s seat at the head of the table. Baron Tanaka was now sitting opposite Grimes, with the Hereditary Chief next to him. Williams moved up to sit next to his captain.

The decanter circulated. Kane filled his glass to the very brim. So did Williams. Cigars were ignited.

“Perhaps we should have a toast,” said Kane. He raised his glass. “Here’s to crime!”

And it was a crime, thought Grimes, how that uncouth bastard gulped that beautiful wine as though it were lager beer on a hot day.

“But it is not crime,” said Baron Takada, “if it is legal.”

“As a banker, you should know, Hiroshi,” Kane said. “What do you think, Grimes?”

“I always try to keep on the right side of the Law,” said Grimes.

“Don’t you find it rather a strain at times? A man like you. I’ve always thought that you’d make a good pirate. I haven’t forgotten what you did to my ship that first time on Morrowvia.”

“I thought that you were letting by-gones be by-gones.”

“I am, Grimesey-boy, I am. I might even put some business your way. Some honest crime. Or legal crime.”

“You’re contradicting yourself, Kane.”

“Have you ever known me to do that?” He refilled his glass, to the brim again, looked over it at Grimes. “Tell me, have you never regretted having left the Survey Service? Have you never felt naked swanning around in an unarmed ship when, for all your spacefaring life prior to the Discovery mutiny, you’ve had guns and missiles and the gods know what else to play with?”

“Are you offering me a commission in the El Doradan navy?” asked Grimes.

Kane laughed. “To be an officer in our navy you have to be of noble birth and I don’t think that you qualify.”

“If you’re a fair sample of nobility, Baron Kane, I’m glad that I don’t.”

“Temper, temper, Grimes!” Kane wagged his cigar reprovingly. “Anyhow, you’re a trained fighting spaceman.” He turned to Williams. “And so are you, Mister Mate. You’re out of the Dog Star Line—and they’ve always made a practice of defensively arming their ships when necessary.”

“I have been in action, sir,” admitted Williams.

“And there’s your Third Officer, Grimes,” Kane went on. “Your Mr. Venner. A Survey Service Reserve officer.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Grimes.

“From your ship’s papers, of course. The data was fed into the Monitor when you were cleared inward.”

“And what are you driving at?” Grimes demanded.

Kane did not reply but Baron Takada murmured, “In times of economic stress the armed and armored man survives.”

It sounded profound, probably more so than it actually was.

“Economic stress?” echoed Grimes.

“Yes, Captain. A state of affairs to which you are no stranger. My reading of your character is that you are a man who would take up arms to defend what is his. And has it not been said that attack is the best defense?”

So, thought Grimes, the first feelers were being put out. It would be out of character for him to be too eager to take the bait.

He said, “This is all very interesting, gentlemen, but I don’t see how it concerns me. I own and command a ship, fully paid for. I show a profit on my voyage from Earth to El Dorado. Presumably there will be some cargo from here to elsewhere in the galaxy.”

“I am afraid that there will not be,” said Baron Takada. “The Interstellar Transport Commission has the contract for the shipment of our metal products off El Dorado. Too, I can tell you that there are no cargoes for ships such as yours, independently operated star tramps, in this sector of the galaxy.” He smiled apologetically. “It is my business to know such things. The Duchess asked me if I could be of help to you in finding you employment, or in advising you where to find employment. I command a fine commercial and financial intelligence service and I have set it to work on your behalf. All inquiries have been fruitless.”

“Something will turn up,” said Grimes.

“Still riding your famous luck, Grimesey-boy?” laughed Kane. “I sort of gained the impression that it had been running out lately. If I hadn’t pulled you out of the soup on New Venusberg . . .”

“I gained the impression,” Grimes said, “that it was the Baroness who was largely responsible for my rescue.”

“I was there too.” Again he filled his glass, then sent the decanter on its rounds. Baron Takada waved it on. Hereditary Chief Lobenga helped himself generously. So did Williams. So did Grimes. He knew that he should be keeping a clear head but this wine was of a quality that he rarely encountered.

Kane continued, “Just suppose your luck does run out, Grimes. Just suppose that you’re stuck here, waiting for news of employment somewhere, anywhere, with port dues mounting and your bank balance getting lower and lower. And just suppose that I, your old cobber, offer you and your ship a job . . .”

“A charter?” asked Grimes.

“Sort of,” said Kane.

“What cargo, or cargoes?” Grimes persisted.

“What you can pick up,” Kane told him.

For some reason he found this amusing. So did Lobenga, who laughed loudly. Even Baron Takada smiled.

“Cards on the table, Grimesy-boy,” said Kane. “I’ll spill the beans and see if you’re ready to lick them up. If you aren’t now, you may be in a few days’ time, when you’re still stuck here, with bills piling up and nobody in any hurry at all to discharge your cargo. You may have heard that I’m assembling a fleet at Port Kane. Owner-masters, not too scrupulous, down on their luck . . .”

“Like you,” said Grimes.

“Not like me. I’m not down on my luck. But you are. There’s Pride of Erin, Captain O’Leary. And Agatha’s Ark, Captain Agatha Prinn. Spaceways Princess, Captain MacWhirter . . . All of ’em, like your Sister Sue, one-time Epsilon Class tramps in various stages of decrepitude. All of them armed. Oh, nothing heavy. A laser cannon, a quick-firing projectile cannon, a missile launcher. All of them with temporal precession synchronization controls fitted to their Mannschenn Drive units. Small arms, of course, for the boarding parties . . .”

It was Grimes’ turn to laugh.

“Just who do you think you can fight with an armed rabble like that?”

“Unarmed merchantmen, of course.”

“Piracy?”

“No. Not piracy. Privateering,” stated Kane.

He went on to tell Grimes what he already knew, what Damien had told him back at Port Woomera. He made it all sound as though it would work, and work well. Williams, to whom all this was new, listened entranced. Grimes did his best to look both disapproving and doubtful.

“And meanwhile,” he said, “your gallant, money-hungry captains are sitting snug in Port Kane, eating their heads off and being paid for doing nothing.”

“There is a retaining fee, of course,” admitted Kane. “And no port dues are charged. And the ships will soon be lifting.” He nodded toward the Baron. “Over to you, Hiroshi.”

“You will appreciate, Captain Grimes,” said Takada, “that a successful interstellar financier must maintain an intelligence service. Do you know, or know of, the Hallichek Hegemony? Of course you do. A not very pleasant avian matriarchy. On one of the worlds under their control, one of their colonies, the males have succeeded in becoming dominant. Soon, very soon, the Prime Nest will be endeavoring to restore the status quo. A punitive expedition will be dispatched to Kalla, the rebel planet. The Kallans have a space navy of their own, a small one and a good one. The Kallan government is prepared to issue Letters of Marque to outsiders, such as ourselves, so that the Hegemony’s merchant shipping may be raided and seized, leaving their own fighting ships to defend the planet.”

“As an idea,” said Grimes, “it’s strictly for the birds!”

“But it could be fun, Skipper,” said Williams.

It could be, Grimes thought. He was a human chauvinist at times and had never liked the Hallicheki, those cruel, dowdy, yet strutting and arrogant old hens. The males of their species were, by human standards, much more likeable.

“Think about it,” said Kane. “Sleep on it. Remember that this is a golden opportunity to get in on the ground floor of what could be, what will be a very profitable business. Big profit, small risks. The arms that you carry will remain the property of the El Doradan Corporation so you will not have to buy them. The Corporation will make the necessary modifications to your ship, free of charge. We can also provide gunnery training facilities—although in your case it should not be necessary. You, and your mate and your third mate, already have experience with weaponry . . .”

“Give it a go, Skipper!” urged Williams who, obviously, had overindulged in the excellent port wine.

“Mr. Williams,” said Grimes, “seems to be enthusiastic. But what about my other officers?”

“Any merchant spaceman left by his ship on El Dorado,” said Kane, “is regarded and treated as a criminal, jailed until such time as somebody can be persuaded to take him off planet. Such few unfortunates as have experienced the hospitality of our prison system have not been pampered. We do not believe in needless expense.”

“No?” asked Grimes sardonically, looking around at the rich appointments of the dining room.

“Unless,” went on Kane, “it is for ourselves.” He got to his feet “Shall we join the ladies?”







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Framed