Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Yes sir, but as to the need for a permanent representative…”

“Every world no matter how recently opened to trade requires a permanent representative. A lucky man I am to have someone well qualified already on the spot!” Again Ethan hastened to argue and again Malaika overrode any incipient protests.

“Naturally such a promotion and increase in responsibility carries with it a hefty rise in salary. You can look forward to a better and earlier retirement, Fortune. You will have people under you to supervise. No more worrying about lost commissions and an irregular income.”

“Even so, sir, I…”

“Don’t thank me, don’t thank me. You’ve earned this. It’s an opportunity that comes rarely to one your age. Normally one serves twenty to thirty years before being appointed a factotum. And after our monopoly has been secured and you’ve trained a solid core of new people to handle the business, the House would consider transferring you to another world. Paris, say, or New Riviera.”

Ethan hesitated. By themselves the promotion and increase in salary weren’t sufficient to make him consider staying, but the possibility of obtaining both and then taking them with him to one of the paradise worlds, that was something worth thinking about. More than that, the offer was tempting. A factotum on a world like New Riviera could make an enormous amount of money while working in the most congenial surroundings the Commonwealth had to offer.

Even so, the memories of the bone-chilling arctic cold, the unceasing wind, and the more prosaic dangers of Tran-ky-ky were far fresher in his memory than tridees of warm beaches on unvisited worlds. Not that he didn’t have a choice. He could accept promotion and promise or he could quit and take the next ship one way to Drax IV and start looking for a new profession. Drax IV was a nice civilized world but not a major one. Jobs there might not be so easy to come by.

“Don’t thank me,” Malaika said again. “I will make arrangements for an account to be opened in the company’s name for you to draw upon. Within, oh, say a few weeks I’ll expect to see a comprehensive report on our prospects there, I’ll need to know what kind of approach you think we should begin with, what kind of assistance you’ll need, what sort of office equipment, what trade goods will be admissible under the planet’s current status, that sort of thing. I have complete confidence that you will do a thorough and businesslike job. Your raise in pay will be entered into the company’s computers immediately. I think that’s everything.” He reached forward to break the connection, paused.

“One more thing. How did you manage to pay for this communication, anyway?”

“Through a gift from a friend,” Ethan muttered dazedly.

“Ah. A very good friend indeed. Well, I have enjoyed our little conversation immensely, yes, immensely. Perhaps some day circumstances will allow you to visit Moth and we can meet in person. Lovely place, Moth. All the amenities with none of the concomitant restrictions and plenty of room for a man to stretch his legs as well as his mind.”

“Sure.” You wouldn’t want to risk freezing your precious backside by coming out here, of course, Ethan thought. If he’d known Maxim Malaika better, he wouldn’t have thought that. Or maybe he would have. He was mad: at Malaika, and at himself.

“Good-bye then, Fortune. Kwa heri. I’ll be looking forward to reading that report.”

The screen filled with static, then blanked. The operator fiddled with a few instruments, then swiveled in his chair to regard them both. “Transmission broken at the other end. Anything else?”

Unable to reply, Ethan simply shook his head as he stood. And he thought he was a pretty good salesman. The operator unsealed the bubble, letting them out. The line of waiting bureaucrats gaped at them as they strode silently out into the corridor.

“There now, young feller-me-lad, everything’s going to turn out all right.” September put a comforting arm around Ethan’s shoulders.

“Sure it is. For Malaika.”

“What about the money?”

“Money can’t buy happiness, Skua.”

“Well now, lad, it appears our philosophies differ on that point. You have to admire your boss. Made the whole thing seem as much your idea as his. He never actually gave you the choice to make.”

They turned a bend in the corridor. “The raise and the promotion are gratifying, sure. I just wish they applied on a slightly more benign world.” He nodded toward one of the insulated windows at the perpetual snow and ice outside.

“What’s this? Losing your affection for good ol’ Tran-ky-ky? I thought you’d feel right at home here by now, feller-me-lad. It ain’t as though you’re going to be skidding across the ice in the Slanderscree for the next few years. You’re going to have underlings to do the fieldwork for you while you sit back here in the commercial building in your nice warm office, staring at entertainment tridees and reading good books. With the deep-space beam in place you don’t have to feel cut off from what’s happening in the rest of the Commonwealth. There’ll be news, and new visitors—maybe you can hire a few competent young ladies to help you out—and in a few years, if all goes well here, you’ll get yourself boosted over to Paris or some place soft.”

“You make it all sound so reasonable and inviting. You sure you don’t work for Malaika on the sly?”

“Not likely, lad. And if the Tran qualify for associate status, you’ll be able to use a skimmer when you do have to make checks on your people out in the field. Your promotion will be good for you and good for our friends.”

“If it’s all so wonderful, why don’t you call Malaika back and offer to take the job?”

September’s eyes widened. “What, d’you think I’m crazy? I’m getting out of here on the next ship!”

EVERY BUILDING AT THE outpost where humans could expect to meet with Tran was equipped with a transition room, a chamber where the temperature was lowered to just above freezing. It enabled humans to talk unburdened by survival suits, while the Tran found it bearably tropic; a climate where different races from different temperatures could get together. Hunnar Redbeard was to meet them here. They waited in the corridor for the Tran to arrive.

Maybe Skua was right. The decision had been made. Nothing to gain from moping and moaning about his fate. There were plenty of people who would gladly have traded places and opportunities with him. And if he changed his mind, he could quit anytime. Sure he could. Just throw away his job, his career, his seniority within the House, and, as Malaika had so irresistibly put it, the chance of a lifetime for someone his age.

“At least I’ll have one old friend to keep me company.”

“Oh, you’ll make plenty of friends here,” September readily agreed. “Not all of them are likely to be as stiff-necked and tight-assed as that bunch back in communications. You’ll strike up all sorts of friendships as you get to meet the personnel.”

“I wasn’t talking about new friendships.”

“What’s that?” The giant eyed him askance. “Whoa now, feller-me-lad, you know better. When the Spindizzy settles herself in orbit, I’m up and away for Alaspin, I am. For Alaspin and a warm climate and the understanding solicitudes of a lady friend.”

“What was all that then about Tran-ky-ky’s wonderful opportunities and its delightful people?”

“All true, all true, young feller-me-lad, and just think of the good you’ll sip from that glass. I’d gladly stay and keep you company save for my prior obligations.”

“What obligations? A two-year-old half promise to join some archaeologist on a distant world? She’s probably forgotten all about you by now.”