The Garments of Caean

At a run, Castor went charging up to the bridge, hotly followed by the others. The face of a patrol ship captain stared at them on the comvidplate.

‘Who’s in command there?’ he demanded.

Castor leaned over the vidplate. ‘Me!’

The patrol captain flinched slightly. He seemed puzzled and displeased to see the disarray aboard the Little Planet. ‘You are in a closed area. Return to Ziode.’

‘Your coder bust or something?’ Castor burst out. ‘We’re showing a pass signal issued by the Governor of Vence!’

‘My orders don’t come from Vence.’ The captain’s expression changed to one of cold distaste as he inspected the faces of each of them in turn. ‘Return to Ziode.’

Castor persisted. ‘You’re out of order. The Governor is empowered to issue passes for travel to specified destinations. Examine the co-ordinates on our signal if you want to know more about it.’

The captain paused. ‘Okay,’ he said at length, ‘I’ll refer back to Vence. Check your velocity and proceed no farther.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Oh, three, four days.’

Behind Castor, Gadzha was muttering. ‘No good,’ Castor said. ‘That throws our schedule off. Our pass has a time limit. It would run out before we’ve finished our business here.’

‘That’s your problem,’ the captain answered. ‘Take it up with the Governor.’ His face relaxed and he became a fraction more affable. ‘Tell you what, I’ll channel through a request for an extension for you. Meantime heave to so I can keep you in range – that’s an order.’

‘Stuff it!’ Castor half-shrieked, his face swelling. He killed the screen, then moved to the guidance board and before anyone could stop him he had turned the engines on to emergency boost. The Little Planet shot ahead, temporarily doubling its trans-C velocity.

‘You goddamned crazy loon!’ Rabbish raved. ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing? He’ll fire on us!’

‘Nah. He’s just a pipsqueak defence officer. He won’t risk an inquiry by firing on a ship that has a legit pass. We’re in the right.’

‘Like hell we are,’ Gadzha said tersely. ‘Things have tightened up. There’s going to be a war with Caean. We’re right out on a limb.’

‘He suspects us,’ Leecher said dully.

Castor spoke placatingly. ‘Fringe planets are full of rough types, always nosing out into the Gulf. The patrols are used to it.’

‘Maybe, but now they’re certain to board us on our way back in,’ Gadzha reasoned slowly. ‘Why did you do it? You’ve finished us.’

Castor ignored him, watching the drive indicators. The ship would soon be coming out of boost and back to cruising speed. The engines couldn’t keep up the extra strain for long.

Gadzha took a step forward. ‘Something funny is going on,’ he announced. ‘Why should Castor get us in trouble with the patrol for no reason, when everything was running smooth? There’s something about this jaunt he hasn’t told us. I’ve suspected it before.’

Castor turned and found himself staring into Gadzha’s broad, unfriendly face. He huffed his shoulders aggressively. ‘Maybe I didn’t feel like hanging around,’ he jeered, his mouth turned down in an ugly sneer. Then he sidled away from Gadzha, pulling himself into the oversize jacket of his suit like a crab.

Now they were all interested. Surrounding Castor, they all eyed him speculatively, but as yet still keeping a respectful distance.

‘You know something? Castor owes us all,’ Rabbish pointed out. ‘That’s how he got me interested in this project in the first place. How about you, Gadzha? Didn’t he say he knew a way to clear his account with you?’

‘What he owed me would be a drop in the ocean, the way he put it,’ Gadzha agreed.

‘Me too. It certainly saved his skin for a while, leading us out here.’

Leecher spoke up. ‘Well how about it, Castor? What have you got to say for yourself?’

‘So worried about your money,’ Castor muttered contemptuously. ‘You’re all dirt.’

‘There’d better be a Caeanic freighter out there, that’s all. With everything on board like you said.’

‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ Gadzha interjected. ‘What about this ship?’

Castor didn’t answer for a moment. ‘The Governor will keep the patrols off our backs,’ he said. ‘It’s just as bad for him as it is for us if they come on board. Worse. You should have worked that out for yourselves, you poor schmooks.’

He turned to confront them, glaring into one face after another. ‘The ship’s there all right, I guarantee it. What do you think? I came all the way out here just for the view?’

He shoved his way through them and went to the door.

Leisurely he went below and sauntered along the corridor that ran the length of the Little Planet. Rabbish had nearly guessed the method he had used to set up the operation. He had intentionally got into debt with them all, then when they came to collect had dangled the carrot of the crashed Caeanic ship in front of them.

But Rabbish’s observation would do them no good, not unless they could imagine some more substantive reason why Castor should want to visit the Gulf.