Roland acknowledged the point with a tilt of his head.
John ruminated for a moment, then went on, 'I see what you're saying. We'd be cut off. No funds, no communication with our group on Khadija, or with the organization back on Terra. It would be difficult.'
'Rather. No money, no immediate prospects of getting any, no place to stay, except with Jake. We need supplies and literature to stock a reading center?'
John turned to me. 'I think I told you we do no proselytizing. But one of our chief functions is to open up and run a reading room and consultation center. That's what we were about to do when we had the mishap with the Militia back on Goliath. After visiting our colleague in the hospital, we were going to see about renting a little storefront in town.'
Susan had been thinking. 'What about sending a message back by starship? If we could only let Sten or somebody know what happened to us.'
'Yes,' John said, the idea dawning on him, 'yes, that's a marvelous thought! Don't know why I didn't think of it. We simply must get word back somehow. If we could let our community know that there's something here on the other side…'
'Again,' I said, 'you can try, but again I doubt it would work. The Ryxx don't seem to want anyone to know about the Outworlds. They may have been willing to take Wilkes back, but that might only have been because they were in on the drug operation. Anyway, I seriously doubt whether they're in the mail business.'
John and Susan looked deflated.
'I wouldn't give up hope,' I hastened to add. I didn't want to be too hard on them because what I had to tell them next would be pretty rough. 'We know nothing for sure. And the most important thing we're not clear on is whether any of us are safe anywhere in the Outworlds.'
Susan's face blanched. 'What do you mean; Jake?'
Although I was nearly drunk, I, had been giving, the whole matter some thought ''First of all, we don't know what became of the Laputa.' I turned to Lori. 'What would've happened if the Arfie pirates had taken over the ship?'
'I don't know. It never happened before.'
'You have no idea what would have become of the passengers?'
'No, but I wouldn't put it past Arfies to do something terrible. Some of them are okay, but others…'
'But the ship has always managed to beat off these attacks. Right?'
'Yeah.'
'So,' I went on, turning back to John and his confreres, 'there's every possibility that everyone aboard that ship who was hot on my tail is alive and well and desirous of my blood. All of you are in danger because of your association with me. And that goes for Lori, too… and Carl.'
John shook his head slowly, exasperation in his voice. 'But surely there's somewhere in the Outworlds we could hide. I simply can't believe?'
'Hide? From the Reticulans?'
The three Teelies looked grimly at me, then at each other.
'I hate to bring it up,' I said, 'but we're going to have to proceed on the assumption that all of us are sacred quarry.'
That put a damper on the conversation for a while. I remembered I hadn't checked in with Sam.
'About time.'
'Sorry. We were discussing what we should do. I think we've agreed that everyone should stick together for now.'
'A good idea.'
'And we should try to get word on what happened to the
Laputa. Is there anything on the air here in the way of news?'
'No commercial or government stations, but there's an extensive skyband and amateur radio network. I've been monitoring all channels. Nothing on the Laputa so far.'
'Well, there's a lot of traffic between here and Splash, and that ferryboat served a vital function. If she were lost, it'd be big news. Something should turn up.'
'Right, I'll keep monitoring. Leave the key open, okay?'
'Sure.' I put it on the table and activated the microcamera to give him something to look at.
'Nice place. The food any good?'
'Great,' Darla told him.
Someone in the crowd had stood up and was speaking. He was like the rest: thick-thewed, long mussy hair, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and dungarees.
'Gentlemen, gentlemen! And ladies, if I may use both terms so loosely.' He leered and stroked his wiry red beard.
Rude noises from the crowd.
'I now call this joint, plenary meeting of the Brotherhood of the Boojum and the Sorority of the Snark to order!'
Shouts, jeers, applause.
'Order! I will have order! Sergeant at Arms, will you please see to it that any objectionable behavior is dealt with according to the bylaws of this organization?'
Something hulking in a sheepskin jacket stood up and surveyed the crowd menacingly. He got no takers. Everyone shut up.
'Thank you, Brother Flaherty.' The hulk sat down as the one with the red beard took a long pull from his mug, draining it. 'The bar is now closed!' he pronounced, banging the mug down on the tabletop.
'Booo!'
'Be reasonable, old man!'
'Who cares? We got three pitchers.'
He ignored it. 'I now call upon Brother Finch to read the minutes of the last meeting.'
Another logger lurched to his feet. 'The bloody stupid meeting was called to order by Acting-President Brother Fitzgore. The minutes of the last bloody stupid meeting were read. Weren't any old business, weren't any new business. The bloody stupid meeting was adjourned and we all got drunk as bloody skunks.' Brother Finch sat down heavily.
'I thank Brother Finch for that succinct, bare-to-the-bones summation of the salient developments of the last meeting. Do I have a motion to accept Brother Finch's report as it stands?'
'I so move!'
' I second the motion.'
'The motion has been made and seconded to read Brother Finch's report into the record without emendation. May I now assume that the membership will assent to do so without a vote? Are there any objections?'
Someone stood up. 'I object to the minutes of the last meeting being exactly the same as the minutes of the proceeding meeting, and the one before that. In fact, they're always the same damn minutes!'
Fitzgore raised an imperious eyebrow. 'Do you take issue with the contents of Brother Finch's report?'
'No, the report is accurate as it stands. I merely object to his lack of originality and literary style.'
'It is not Brother Finch's duty to be original, but to record the facts accurately and without bias!' Fitzgore bellowed. He took a deep breath. 'And as for style, I think Brother Finch's prose is almost Homeric in its brilliant use of epithet.'
'Almost what?'
'What the hell's an epaulette?'
'At any rate,' Fitzgore continued airily, 'your objection is overruled.'
'This is not a court of law. I demand that my objection be entered in the record.'
'So be it,' Fitzgore acceded. 'Let it be noted in the record that Brother MacLaird has objected to Brother Finch's literary style, or lack thereof.'
'I ain't got a bloody pencil,' Brother Finch said.
Someone threw a pencil at him. He caught it neatly, snapped it in two between thumb and forefinger, and threw it back.
'Who the hell are these weirdos?' Sam said.
