The Pharoah Contract

“Come on, come on!” Ruiz hustled the merchant toward the Terratonic, taking most of Bolard’s weight. Bolard’s feet paddled weakly at the ground as they neared the boat.

The Terratonic had a standard idplex sensor beside the lock, and Ruiz hoped it was as straightforward as it appeared. He propped Bolard up before the idplex, and said, “Now, friend Bolard, get us in. Quickly! I’m not patient.” To emphasize his point, Ruiz twisted cruelly at Bolard’s wrist. The merchant’s head snapped up, and he pawed at the idplex, punching in the access code.

“Good, good. Continue,” Ruiz said, giving Bolard an encouraging pat.

Bolard turned eyes to him that were devoid of hope. “You’ll kill me anyway,” he said.

“No… how could you think so? I don’t want to hurt you, but if I must, I must. All will be well; just get us inside.” Ruiz threw an apprehensive glance at the kinetic mesh. The security men were attempting to attach a master-image to the idplate. In a moment they would succeed.

Bolard smiled ingratiatingly, a ghastly expression. “Yes,” he said, “I trust you….”

He staggered, and then stepped up and put his eye against a sensor. Apparently Bolard favored the retinal holotattoo as a means of identification, not a bad choice, technically speaking. Disconnection from the optical nerve would destroy the image, so a knowledgeable thief could not simply gouge out the merchant’s eye and present the gobbet to the idplex.

The moment that it took the idplex to recognize and respond to Bolard seemed to stretch into an eternity. Ruiz’s body sang with adrenaline. The security men finally got the masterimage locked onto the idplate of the revetment as the airlock plug withdrew, and Ruiz boosted Bolard inside. Ruiz scrambled after. He hit the closure bar just as the security men burst into the revetment.

As the lock snapped shut, Ruiz waved cheerfully at the guards, who showed clenched faces and brandished useless nerve lashes.

“All right,” Ruiz said to Bolard, who watched him with bulging eyes, “to the cockpit.”

* * *

Corean thumped Marmo’s console in her excitement. “There,” she said, “didn’t I tell you? He evaded Preall’s best men; he hardly worked up a sweat. Don’t you find it interesting, Marmo? To watch a man like that?”

“I find it unsettling, more than anything else. Besides, he looked pretty sweaty to me, and he relied overmuch on luck, in my opinion. Now it’s up to us. And if Preall’s men had taken him, we’d be worse off than we were before we started this, ah, impetuous maneuver.” Marmo floated quietly, projecting noninvolvement.

“You’re a dry stick, Marmo,” Corean said, sitting back, as the spaceboat pulled out of the revetment, scattering the guards. “Is the Moc ready for him?”

“It waits in the control room at the end of the egress tunnel, as you ordered.” Marmo shifted on his floater. “Tell me, what will you do if he carries the death net, and manages to expire before the Moc freezes him?”

Corean grew less animated. “The Sinverguenza is always ready. I’ll take what I can, and leave. They won’t catch me easily. And I would give up this face, if I had to. What would you do, Marmo? Would you come with me?”

“I? Who knows?”

* * *

Ruiz directed the boat along the taxiway. He could see no sign of barriers at this end of the exit tunnel; perhaps they were at the other end, if any existed. That would make strategic sense, and was a hurdle he’d have to leap when he reached it.

In moments he entered the brightly lit entrance. The guards had fallen behind, and now, as Ruiz glanced at the rear vision screen, he saw them stopped at the tunnel apron, a forlorn group. Ahead the lights abruptly ended, and the tunnel became pitch black. Ruiz lit the running lights, locked the boat’s pilot to the guidance strip, pushed the speed up to maximum taxi, and turned to Bolard, who slumped in the cockpit’s jump seat. The merchant’s color was better and his breathing was quieter, but Bolard’s eyes still had a glaze of hopelessness.

“So,” Ruiz began, in conversational tones, “how do you feel?”

For a moment Bolard didn’t answer, and Ruiz thought the merchant might abandon dignity completely and weep. But then Bolard seemed to collect himself. “I’m better, though still near death, I think.”

“Nonsense. I don’t want your life. Help me to escape, and you’ll be rewarded handsomely for your inconvenience.”

Bolard grew less apathetic. “Reward? And to what authority would I apply for this reward?”

“For your own safety, I won’t say yet. Rest assured of this: Cooperation will bring generosity; obstruction will bring pain.”

Bolard probed at his tender ear. “Yes, I see.”

Ruiz smiled disarmingly. “Let’s put that unpleasantness from our minds now. Together we’ll succeed; together we’ll enjoy the fruits of success. Tell me, what weapons do you carry on board?”

“Weapons?” Bolard seemed genuinely puzzled. “A factor has no use for weapons. We trade only on Peacebond worlds.”

“Oh? Then what are you doing on Sook?”