getting that all done for two thousand carats.” He glanced at Cale sharply. “Guess you’re better at it than I ever was. So, what exactly is your idea?”
'Well,' Cale replied, 'I was just thinking about how many people at the mine are qualified space pilots. Oh, I know,' he forestalled Zant's reply, 'most of them aren't certified for jump piloting, but if what I'm thinking about works, they won't need to be.
'Just suppose we got together a bunch of skilled orbital shipyard workers, and took them to Torlon. Then we cruise the junkyard looking for small intrasystem ships that we can arm. Meanwhile, we have a team building the biggest damned carrier ever seen; no hull metal, just a framework of girders and supports. We use them to attach the little ships and the jump engines from an Alpha class bulk cargo hauler. We load the carrier with as many ships as we have pilots, and drop them off in recal systems one jump from Santiago and Ilocan. Then we mine the jump points. I think we could play hell with their supply lines. Every time they send a minesweeper to clear the mines, our ships attack them. Minesweepers are small and poorly armed.'
Dee shook her head. 'But they're just junk,' she said. 'Scrap! The reason people scrap ships is because they'd be too hard or too expensive to fix.'
Zant was grinning. 'Maybe. There's lots of reasons ships get sold for scrap. Sheol, some of 'em are in complete operatin' condition, but the skipper misses a couple of payments and the bank auctions it.'
'One of the ships in my yard is a completely operational Beta class liner,' Cale replied. 'Anyway, he added, 'We're not concerned with 'fixing them up'. We want functional inertial drive, life support, and some weapons. We don't care how she looks, or about the condition of secondary systems. There are quite a few hulks that can be stripped for parts, and that Beta class liner means the workers can live aboard, and won’t have to shuttle back and forth from the surface.”
Zant jumped up and pounded Cale on the back. “Damn, man, sounds like we got us a plan!”
Freehold was a man-made planetoid circling an uninhabited star. There were hundreds of these things scattered throughout the Empire. They had been built over the centuries by various multisystem conglomerates, System-wide syndicates, and even hyper-wealthy entrepreneurs, mostly to avoid taxation, regulation, or even system criminal laws. Most were superluxe hotels, casinos, and spas for the very wealthy. Some were designed as cruise stops for liners making circle tours. When the Empire began to crumble, the very wealthy either disappeared or adopted far less ostentatious lives. The planetoids tried various ploys to save themselves, mostly in vain. Those that began shorting maintenance fell to catastrophic life support or power failures. Most were simply abandoned. Some were seized and turned into pirate lairs, and some into havens for the disreputable of all types. A very few like Outpost, John Smith's first port of call, managed to survive, after a fashion, becoming trading centers for trade both legal and illegal.
Freehold actually experienced most of those fates. Originally built as a superluxe casino, the management had tried scaling back operations and promoting it as a family getaway and a cruise stop, but as business continued to decline, Freehold moved down the social ladder. More and more disreputable characters arrived, driving out the few remaining customers and liners still available. At one point, it was invaded and seized as a headquarters by the chieftain of a large pirate gang. Some years later, several of the neighboring systems joined forced and attacked, killing the pirate chieftain and scattering his gang. After several years of abandonment, Freehold began to be used as a transfer point for smuggling shipments, and then the center of a smuggling empire that even had its own orbital shipyard. Finally, legal cargoes began being traded as well as smuggled ones, and Freehold became established as a sector-wide center for trade of all types, legal and otherwise. There were still plenty of smugglers and assorted lowlifes on Freehold, of course, but the legitimate traders outnumbered them — or so it appeared.
Remarkably, the inhabitants of Freehold were very proud of their world’s checkered history, especially its smuggling past. They tended to behave as though even legal cargoes were smuggled, much to the consternation of the legal traders. Business was done in whispers, in bars and back passageways. “Knowing someone,” or at least seeming to, was essential for doing business on Freehold, and the legal traders and captains just shook their heads, shrugged, and did what they had to do to trade. The larger trading combines did have offices and factors on Freehold, but they were used to the unusual atmosphere.
“Do you have contacts or names on Freehold?” Cale asked.
Zant shook his head sadly. “Probably not. I haven’t been here in near twenty years. I expect most of the people I knew died or moved on. We’ll just have to see what we can do.”
They discussed the situation. 'There's two ways to handle this,' Zant said. 'There are legitimate factors on Freehold, and they'll pay a fair price for your diamonds. But there will be questions asked, and you'd better have a good story for them. Of course, we can trade 'em on the smuggler's market, but we'll get skinned on the discount
Cale looked troubled. 'I'd rather not deal with a lot of questions
…' he began.
'You won't have to,' Dee put in. 'I can handle it.'
'You?' Cale said, flustered. 'But how…'
'You forget,' she chided gently. 'You happen to have onboard this yacht a very prominent lady. Daughter of the Supreme Archbishop of Faith. This lady is traveling in this sector, and finds diamonds a convenient means of maintaining herself on her travels.'
Dee dove into her persona as a rich, spoiled heiress on a fling. She was excited at the opportunity to actually visit a real ‘den of iniquity’. In fact, her first use of that phrase on Angeles had sparked her imagination, and she had spent almost the entire three weeks travel time planning how to dress and behave, and imagining all the deliciously sinful things she would encounter.
Cale and Zant’s more realistic expectations led to some serious disagreements between Cale and Dee. Cale tried repeatedly to warn Dee, but it is often almost impossible to overcome the illusions created by fiction.
Cale had received his docking instructions and was about to sign off from Freehold Control when Zant cut in “One moment, please,” he requested. The man on the screen paused. “Yes?” he replied.
“It’s been some time since I visited Freehold,” he began. “Is Shorty’s still in business?”
The man smiled. “Sure is. The whole place would probably have to shut down if Shorty’s did. If you’d like, I can connect you so you can make an appointment.”
Zant’s answering smile was broad and genuine. “An appointment? Sounds like Shorty’s has gone big time.”
“Naw, not really,” the man replied easily. “But they’re sure busy these days. Hold on.”
After a moment, a small, bald man appeared on the screen, his expressions harried and irritated. “Yes? What is it?”
Zant’s smile faded to one both formal and cold. “Good day to you, sire. My name is Zant Jenfu. I represent the Lady Delilah Raum of Faith.” His tone perfectly matched the cold formality of his smile. “We are aboard her yacht, Cheetah, and are approaching Freehold. My Lady wishes to complete some business on Freehold, and finds we have need of your services. I should like to schedule an appointment to discuss it.” Cale suppressed a laugh. Zant was giving a perfect impression of the haughty factotum of a wealthy dowager.
The man on the screen straightened, and his irritated scowl disappeared. They arranged an appointment for an hour after their scheduled docking time. As they signed off, both Cale and Dee dissolved into gales of laughter.
“You sounded just like Gotroy, my father’s secretary,” Dee said in an admiring tone once she’d regained her composure.
“Yes,” Cale asked, “and if she’s Lady Delilah, who am I?”
Zant’s normal broad grin reappeared. “Why, you’re her personal yacht skipper and bodyguard. Y’see,” he continued, “I realized that jabbo from Control might just listen in to see if he could learn anything saleable. It was a perfect chance to get some rumors started. Now, everyone will hear about the rich Lady comin’ aboard. It’ll give us a legitimate reason to have a fortune in jewels, and it might help keep us out of trouble. Face it,” He shrugged, “Raum is a big name on Faith. Are you sure you don't mind us usin’ it, Dee?”
Dee shrugged, a bitter expression crossing her face. “No, I don’t mind. Why not? It is my name. My father has dishonored it much more than I ever could.”
Zant nodded. “Okay, then here’s what we’ll do. It’s no use trying to be inconspicuous, so let’s go with the plan and be as conspicuous as hell. Dee, you’ll need one of your fancy outfits from Angeles. Cale and I can get away
