The Pharoah Contract

“A much-needed vacation. And I remind you that a pangalac being on legitimate business here need have little fear of violence, if he follows proper procedure.”

“True,” Ruiz agreed. And offhand, he could think of no business that was considered illegitimate by the Shards, the aliens who enforced the laws of Sook from their orbital platforms.

Bolard appeared to be projecting injured innocence with suspicious energy. Ruiz eyed him sharply, and switched tacks. “How long before we reach the end of the tunnel?”

“Perhaps fifteen, twenty minutes, at our present speed — which seems excessive to me, by the way.”

“The boat’s pilot keeps us moving at the same speed as the traffic ahead of us,” Ruiz pointed out. “The guilty seem to be fleeing. What can you tell me about the security systems at the far end?”

“Very little. The tunnel surfaces at a launch ring, out in the jungle. There are maintenance buildings there, but no other facilities that I noticed.”

“You observed no barriers, no blast doors?”

Bolard shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “The boat was on auto from the time I left the Shard platform. I’m no pilot. Perhaps there are such things there; I don’t know.”

Ruiz considered. The launch ring would be unavailable to him, of course, but with any luck he could make a run overland until he found a ring that was willing to heave him out of Sook’s gravity well. He rose from the command chair. “Come, Bolard, let’s take a look around your little boat. I understand that some Terratonics have been modified to carry small cargos. That right?”

Bolard went pale again. Ruiz had to lift him to his feet and march him back to the passenger lounge of the Terratonic.

The boat had indeed been modified for cargo, and when Ruiz saw the cargo secured in the converted hold, he lost what little sympathy he had retained for the fat merchant. Crammed into the former lounge was a stasis rack, filled with six frozen members of the Cleve culture, and Ruiz was certain that they were three pairs of matched hereditary enemies. Ruiz now saw the reason why Preall kept his culture here on Sook; not because it was stolen, though it might be, or because Preall’s guests craved the privacy of a Sook address, but because Preall was violating copyright laws by selling off bootleg clones of the culture.

“Naughty,” Ruiz said, shaking a monitory finger at Bolard. Then he took the merchant by the collar and completed his search of the boat. Unfortunately, Ruiz discovered that the merchant had been telling the truth about weaponry. There was nothing useful on board.

Back in the cockpit, Ruiz settled Bolard in the jump seat again, then secured the merchant carefully to the seat with a roll of adhesive restraint webbing from a supply locker in the hold. Bolard’s eyes showed relief at this indication that Ruiz planned no immediate mayhem. He would have spoken, but Ruiz stretched a piece of webbing across his mouth and patted him reassuringly on the head.

“Well, now we’ll just have to wait and see what develops,” Ruiz said.

Ruiz sat back, clearing his mind. The boat rolled down the tunnel on its pneumatic casters, and the minutes passed.

Ruiz saw a tiny glitter of light far ahead. They approached the end of the tunnel rapidly, and the light swelled into a half-disk. A boat, the last one ahead of Ruiz’s, climbed over the edge and disappeared into the glare. Ruiz thought to himself, I might just make it out. How strange. Then the half-circle became a crescent, narrower and narrower, as a blast door levered shut. Ruiz pounded the control panel with his fist, hard enough to make the dust rise from the crevices. “Shit,” he said.

The opening shrank to a thin arc of light and then closed completely. Ruiz knocked the controls back into manual and slowed the boat. He boosted the running lights as high as they would go, and rolled to a stop before the massive blast door.

He saw no activity. To one side, a maintenance corridor opened in the meltstone tunnel lining. An illuminated sign read: emergency personnel egress. To Ruiz’s eye, it might as well have read; Ruiz Aw trap. He sighed. What other choice did he have? No matter what reception Preall had managed to arrange for him, Ruiz would have to leave the pleasantly appointed cockpit of the Terratonic. He turned to Bolard. “Well, friend Bolard, our paths part at last.”

Bolard’s eyes bulged and he struggled against the webbing. “No, no,” Ruiz said soothingly, “don’t worry.” He grasped Bolard’s fat neck with both hands, his fingers probing for the carotids. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. You’ll sleep for a while. I’ll leave the air lock open for Preall’s men; they’ll eventually get here.” Ruiz bore down. Bolard relaxed and slipped into unconsciousness, a look of sheepish gratitude on his broad face. When the merchant was thoroughly under, Ruiz broke his neck with a quick twist.