Freelance On The Galactic Tunnel Network E. Foner (ebook reader for pc TXT) 📖

“I just started working with Ellen two days ago. We interviewed a couple of traders who claimed asylum on Flower to prevent their ships from being repossessed. She stayed behind to interview more traders about their mortgage financing and have a medical procedure done while I’ve been doing more interviews down here. She was going to hitch a ride down tonight.”

“And you?” the officer asked John.

“We’re old friends.”

“He’s hiding something,” the upper-caste Vergallian said immediately.

“When did you last see her?” the officer demanded.

“She pinged me as soon as I landed on Aarden, but we only had a few minutes to talk. Ellen already had a departure ticket for your elevator ground station, and we agreed to get together when she returned.”

“That much is true, but he’s still hiding something,” the truthsayer reported.

“Are you lovers?” the officer inquired.

John hesitated. “We were, many years ago. Ellen was my apprentice but it didn’t work out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”

“A ship has been firebombed on Aarden, the first such occurrence here since your species discovered how to work with copper. Any information potentially related to the incident is our business, and if I’m forced to detain you to get answers to my questions, I will.”

“I want you to make a note that I’m answering under protest,” John stated. “I’ll be filing a complaint through my superior—”

“Do whatever you want on your own time,” the officer interrupted. “I see by the yellow ribbon on your arm that you’re fond of making speeches, but I really don’t have the time.”

“My father and uncle were both alcoholics,” John said. “It skipped me for some reason, maybe because of what I’d seen, but I’ve always been one-and-done when it comes to drinks. Ellen is a social drinker.”

“He’s getting closer,” the truthsayer said.

“A heavy social drinker. I couldn’t be around it.”

“Because you cared about her,” the officer stated.

“As a friend.”

“He’s lying again,” the truthsayer reported.

“All right, I loved her, and I couldn’t stop myself from nagging her about the booze,” John said angrily. “But she didn’t believe she had a problem, and for all I know, she might have been right. I couldn’t watch her drink even though it’s not something that bothered me with anybody else—just her. Satisfied?”

“He’s telling the truth.”

“What’s your story?” the officer asked, peering at Semmi. “Are you with the Human willingly?”

“She says she is, but if she doesn’t get something to eat soon, that could change,” the upper caste Vergallian said.

“Very well. The four of you can go, but if you learn anything about today’s incident, I expect you to inform our security forces immediately.”

By the time they got to the improvised dining hall, there were fliers taped to the tent poles showing Larry making a particularly awkward catch above the caption, “Vote for Larry, Semmi’s pet.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Georgia reassured him. “Everybody loves the gryphon. It’s like an endorsement.”

“What bothers me is that our opposition is so organized,” Larry said. “How many people and how much money does it take to go from an image capture to a poster on a pole in less than two hours?”

“There’s a Vergallian instant print shop set up just outside the Rendezvous grounds,” John told him. “I considered getting my own fliers, but I don’t have any volunteers to put them up, and it would have been too pathetic to get caught doing it myself.”

“The Vergallians sure got to the fire fast,” Georgia said. “It couldn’t have taken us more than two minutes, but their emergency response ship was already there foaming down the wreckage.”

“The campgrounds are temporarily the busiest spaceport on the planet. The Vergallians probably have a full crash team in the area.”

“It’s part of the contract,” Larry informed them. “Whenever Rendezvous is on a planet, the Guild makes sure that the host world provides spaceport-level emergency services. My dad is usually the one who negotiates that stuff and he’s been coaching me to take over the responsibility. I don’t know what will happen if our opponents win all the seats and take control of Rendezvous.”

“If you ask me, the Traders Guild will split in two,” John said. “I’ve talked to more traders about the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities in the last few days than in the decade prior, and I learned that my assumptions were completely off.”

“Do you mean the traders have already formed parties without knowing it?” Georgia asked.

The EarthCent Intelligence handler shook his head. “I always thought that the older traders would be the ones against joining CoSHC but I was exactly wrong. It turns out it’s those of us who remember visiting sovereign human communities before they were members of a larger group who can really see the difference it’s made. The young traders have only heard about the complaints. Down!” John barked at Semmi, who had just plucked the hard-boiled egg out of the salad a woman was carrying back to her table. “Sorry about that.”

“You just lost my vote,” the woman replied, but her smile belied her words. “You’re the EarthCent Intelligence candidate, aren’t you?”

“I work for EarthCent Intelligence, but I’ve also been a trader for most of my adult life.”

“We all heard the news about Ellen’s ship being firebombed. I know it must have to do with her reporting for the Galactic Free Press, but she’s a trader too, and we’re taking up a collection. You should get up on the stage and say something about it.”

John looked longingly at the rapidly dwindling selection of prepared food, but then he nodded his head in agreement. “Can you grab me something, Larry?” he asked. “Better make it triple to feed Semmi or she’ll be mooching from everybody again. We’ll be back in a minute.”

The volunteers working the chow line had been