Zach Hughes: Closed System

Pat didn't always operate on logic.

"You wanta take all the fun out of it?" he asked,grinning disarmingly at the tall, stern-faced manwho represented Capcor, whatever that was.

"Are you here for fun or for a profit?" the manasked.

Pat didn't answer immediately. He noted thatthe clothing worn by the tall man was a sort ofcompany uniform. Below the Capcor name andlogo on the left breast pocket was the name T.O'Shields. "These boonie rats can't match my offer,"O'Shields said coldly. "Excuse me, Mr. O'Shields," said a grizzled, thinboonie rat. "If you don't mind, I flew all night tobe first in

line. I have the first number." The oldman sounded servile, but there was a steady gleamin his eyes as he

looked at O'Shields. "Murphy, the man isn't stupid," O'Shields said."Your emeralds are low-grade. You can't matchCapcor quality."

"Well, Mr. O'Shields," Murphy said, "I did stayup all night, so if you'll excuse me I'll let the mantake a look at my stones anyhow."

Pat turned to John Hook, who was standing toone side. "Is that the usual procedure here?" "That's it," Hook said. "First come, first bid. Then, with all bids in, the seller has the right tocall for a second round of bidding if he's notsatisfied."

"Murphy," O'Shields snarled, "you'll save us allvaluable time if you'll just take your pebbles over to the exchange." "And sell at Capcor prices," Murphy said.

"I think we'll observe the usual procedure, gen­tlemen," Pat said. Hook moved forward. "All right. Line up by number. Stay behind the line to give each man hisright of private offer."

The men moved back away from the platform.O'Shields was far back in the line, glowering, asMurphy grinned at Pat and hopped with sprynessup onto the platform. He looked at the cargo man­ifest, held in one hand. In the other hand he car­ried a battered leather bag.

"Well, Mr. Murphy?" Pat asked, as Murphy placedthe bag on the table in front of him. "Capcor will offer you more in number andweight," Murphy said, speaking softly so that thewaiting men

would not hear. "Well, we'll just have to see about that," Patsaid. "I hear emeralds are coming back in style in the UP," Murphy said. "Well, the diamond is still the king of jewels," Pat said. Murphy poured a glittering, rattling mass of un­cut gemstones onto the padded table top.

"That's my lot," Murphy said. "Right at twothousand carats. All good quality."

Pat lost himself for a moment in the blood fire ofa ruby, shifted his attention to an oblong greenbeauty of an emerald, at least one hundred caratscuttable to a stylish stone of perhaps eighty caratswith chips for change.

"These are good-looking stones," he said.

"Cap," Murphy said, "I know the competition.I've got my eye on one case of happy pills. I'll tell you frankly that I can buy more on this forsakenplanet with them than with all these." He swepthis hand over the table to indicate the stones,misjudged, knocked a dozen stones of various sizesoff onto the floor, said a curse word under hisbreath, bent, creakingly, to begin to pick up thestones. In his haste, he brushed a few of themunder the table.

Pat, feeling sorry For the man's old, frail bones,knelt and began to help. Murphy crawled partwayunder the table, looked at Pat squintingly. "Soundpickups in the ceiling," he said, throwing a glanceupward. "Table'll block 'em. I'll make this quick. Ican't show you the stone I know you'll want most. You'll have to take my word for it. I'll deliver it toyou aboard your ship tonight."

Pat reached for a stone under the table, got his head under. It wasn't beyond logic, on a totalitar­ian planet, for there to be listening devices in theceiling. "I don't like the sound of that," he said.

"It will be my offense, not yours."

Murphy picked up two stones, dropped one ner­vously. "I want off this planet, Captain. I've got a diamond, a diamond, mind you. Biggest one sincethe Capella Glory. Half of it is yours. I don't wantyour drugs. Let Capcor have every damned one ofthem. They'll pay you the most. I just want pas­sage out. I'll come to your ship in the dark, after midnight. You get half the diamond. I get a rideout."

"Murphy," T. O'Shields yelled, from his placetoward the back of the line, "pick up your rocksand quit wasting our time."

"Why do you want off this planet so badly?" Pat asked, with the little warning bells going off in hishead.

"I got just a few years left. I got me a diamondbig enough so's I can enjoy 'em on a civilizedplanet. You get rich, too." He gathered up the laststone. "Deal?"

Pat held three emeralds in his hand. The manhad a king's ransom in gemstones if he had beenon a civilized planet. He was offering them for onecase of stress relievers.

"Them things are a dime a dozen on Taratwo,"Murphy said, as if reading his mind. "It's the dia­mond, man. The diamond. It's enough for both ofus."

"What would the local law have to say aboutyou visiting me onboard ship?" Pat asked.

"It's legal," Murphy said. "They won't care about me leaving, either. Come and go as you please, butthe trouble is there might not be another ship forfive years."

"Mr. Murphy, I'll keep an open mind," Pat said,thinking of a huge diamond. He didn't know justhow big the Capella Glory had been, but he re­membered reading about it, and it was bigger thanany other quality diamond found to date on any planet.

Pat wrote down Murphy's offer. The old mangathered his stones and shuffled away. The othertraders

filed past one by one, displaying their gems,not many of them as fine as Murphy's had been.The traders bartered without hope, fully expectinghim to hand over all his cargo to the smirking O'Shields.

He was tempted to take O'Shields's offer. TheCapcor man opened a fancy velvet-lined case builtto carry uncut gems, displaying them to their bestadvantage. He did, indeed, have some beauties.Pat looked at tray after tray of uncut emeralds andrubies, and there were four small diamonds, allunder one carat.

"Not too many diamonds on Tara?" he asked.Murphy's words were haunting him. Bigger thanthe Capella Glory? Pat's brain dredged back intomemory. The Capella Glory was still uncut. It was on display at the Museum of Galactic Natural His­tory on Old Earth, which was a museum planet initself, what with all the archaeological digs andunderwater searches which went on year after year,century after century, as man tried, mostly in vain,to search for his roots.

"The problem is that this is a very young planet,and still in upheaval," O'Shields said. "You locate a likely diamond pipe, start digging, and there's aquake and you lose all the work you've done. A fewdiamonds have been found near the surface, likethe other stones. If there are any big ones, we'llhave to find a way to dig through earthquakes toget to them."

"Still, you have a few here," Pat said.

"Capcor is the government monopoly," O'Shieldssaid. "We own all the diamondiferous areas onthis planet."

Curious, Pat thought, as he tallied up all theoffers. Either the old man was lying or there was adiamond producing pipe somewhere unknown toCapcor.

Capcor's bid, written in the neat, precise hand ofT. O'Shields, listed sizes and weights, so that itwasn't necessary for Pat to tabulate. He worked onall the other offers and grinned when he saw thatby splitting the cargo into small lots, giving someof the independent traders a share, he'd bestO'Shields offer by a few carats, even if some of thestones were of lesser quality. He wasn't greedy.For some reason emeralds and rubies were com­mon on most UP planets. He wasn't going to be­ come independently wealthy on this deal. It wouldbe a nice bonus, as he'd hoped, but that was all.Too many rubies and emeralds, beautiful as theywere.

But diamonds. The rarest. The king of stones.

Pat had a sudden flash of insight. T. O'Shieldsreminded him of his department head back atXanthos U. That clinched it for him.