The Great Hydration

Spencer was relatively new to the staff and this was his first time on a gogetter ship—his first experience as a bondman, in fact. Krabbe spoke to him affably, condescendingly. It pleased him to be avuncular.

“Of course,” Bouche commented, “it’s probably the best way to be sure of killing someone who doesn’t bleed.”

Bravely Spencer said, “What I question is the legality of it, sir, not the morality. Interfering with the geography and climate of an alien planet, not to say the culture, to the extent of species extermination …”

“The desert dwellers are a biological sport,” Krabbe said shortly. “They resulted from a natural catastrophe. The lobsters are the authentic owners of Tenacity, and we’ll have their approval.”

“I only hope the Stellar Commission sees it that way, sir. I don’t need to remind you of the penalties.”

“That’s nothing for you to worry your head about, Spencer,” Krabbe told him firmly. “Only Partner Bouche and myself are legally liable for the orders we give.”

“Yes sir.” Spencer sat biting his lip.

Boris Bouche took over his partner’s argument, leaning towards the younger man, one foot on a desk rail, one arm resting on his bended knee. The stance made him seem even more wolf-like. “You see, son, the Stellar Commission is maybe five, even ten years behind us—if they find us at all. By that time we’ll have transformed this planet. The new weather pattern will have had time to settle down. There won’t be anything left of the dehydrate species you talk about. And we’ll have a solid contract to give us mining, manufacturing and trading rights. How could anybody put oceans on an arid world?” He chuckled, genuinely amused. “The worst they’ll be able to stick on us is operating without a licence.”

“That’s right!” Krabbe joined in triumphantly. “And we’ll have a fait accompli. The firm of Krabbe & Bouche will be in business again!”

CHAPTER FOUR

Black Gamintes from the Trusk region were what the Tlixix used as the market’s slender guard force. On finding the radiator missing, Hrityu had immediately rushed to find one.

The Tlixix had been quickly informed. Hrityu expected them to be very angry indeed. The market was a sacrosanct place and neither violence nor theft were permitted there. The Tlixix knew very well that their credibility depended on the observance of those rules.

Just the same, the Analane trembled with nervousness as they stood before the two Tlixix who were to investigate the case. For one of them was none other than Rherrsherrsh, the Market Master himself.

They had not hesitated to accuse the hated Crome who earlier had taunted them. He therefore stood by their side, as well as Nussmussa the Toureen, all surrounded by red-eyed Gamintes fingering their flingers, spiked silver hair glinting in the poor light.

The interior of the Pavilion of Audience was maintained more for the comfort of the Tlixix than for any other race. Out of deference to the petitioners the two market lords were ensconced in their usual tented bath couches, yet water still hung on the air, and the humanoids all experienced various degrees of physical discomfort.

Rherrsherrsh was an aging Tlixix, his antlers turning from white to greenish-grey with his advancing years. He bent towards Hrityu.

“This occurrence is of the utmost rarity, as well as of great gravity,” he said in the hoarse tones of his race. The Market Master’s displeasure was almost palpable. “Why do you accuse this Crome?”

“Our reasons are all too obvious, Market Master,” Hrityu began. “The Crome are at war with the Analane and are embarked on a campaign of extermination, from no other motive than blind hatred! We—”

A deep laugh from the Crome interrupted him. “No motive. Market Masters, the Analane are invading our territory. They have planted beds of their vile mould there and our own gardens of spine-plant have become infected with it. We shall die of starvation unless they are defeated.”

“New beds must be planted in new places!” Kurwer shouted excitedly. “The old beds do not stay productive.”

“It’s them or us, Market Master,” the Crome rumbled.

The antlers of both Tlixix waved in disapproval. “The conflict between you is not the subject of this hearing.”

Rherrsherrsh admonished. “Analane, continue with your accusation.”

“We have brought to the market an invention of great importance, which we hoped to exchange for some new weapons with which to defend our race,” Hrityu continued evenly. “Clearly this execrable Crome feared that our mission would be successful. Why, he even admitted to us that he is here to spy on us. Obviously, he stole our equipment to prevent that.”