“Survey auction!” the words burst out of Jellico as if he simply could not restrain them any longer.
Somebody whistled and someone else gasped. Dane blinked, he was too new to the game to understand at once. But when the full purport of the announcement burst upon him he knew a surge of red hot excitement. A survey auction—a Free Trader got a chance at one of those maybe once in a life-time. And that was how fortunes were made.
“Who’s in town?” Engineer Stotz’s eyes were narrowed, he was looking at the Captain almost accusingly.
Jellico shrugged. “All the usual. But it’s been a long trip, and there are four Class D-s listed as up for bids —”
Dane calculated rapidly. The Companies would automatically scoop up the A and B listings—there would be tussles over the C-s. And four D-s—four newly discovered planets whose trading rights auctioned off under Federation law would come within range of the price Free Traders could raise. Would the Queen be able to enter the contest for one of them? A complete five- or ten-year monopoly on the rights of Trade with a just charted world could make them all wealthy—if luck rode their jets.
“How much in the strong box?” Tau asked Van Rycke.
“When we pick up the voucher for this last load and pay our Field fees there’ll be—but what about supplies, Frank?”
The thin little steward was visibly doing sums in his head. “Say a thousand for restocking—that gives us a good margin—unless we’re in for a rim haul—”
“All right, Van, cutting out that thousand—what can we raise?” It was Jellico’s turn to ask.
There was no need for the Cargo-Master to consult his books, the figures were part of the amazing catalogue within his mind, “Twenty-five thousand—maybe six hundred more—”
There was a deflated silence. No survey auctioneer would accept that amount. It was Wilcox who broke the quiet.
“Why are they having an auction here, anyway? Naxos is no Federation district planet.”
It was queer, come to think of it, Dane agreed. He had never before heard of a trading auction being held on any world which was not at least a sector capitol.
“The Survey ship Rimwald has been reported too long overdue,” Jellico’s voice came flatly. “All available ships have been ordered to conclude business and get into space to quarter for her. This ship here—the Giswald—came in to the nearest planet to hold auction. It’s some kind of legal rocket wash—”
Van Rycke’s broad finger tips drummed on the table top. “There are Company agents here. On the other hand there are only two other independent Traders in port. Unless another planets before sixteen hours today, we have four worlds to share between the three of us. The Companies don’t want D-s—their agents have definite orders not to bid for them.”
“Look here, sir,” that was Rip, “In that twenty-five thousand—did you include the pay-roll?”
When Van Rycke shook his head Dane guessed what Rip was about to suggest. And for a moment he knew resentment. To be asked to throw one’s voyage earnings into a wild gamble— and that was what would happen he was sure—was pretty tough. He wouldn’t have the courage to vote against it either—
“With the pay-roll in?” Tau’s soft, unaccented voice questioned.
“About thirty-eight thousand—”
“Pretty lean for a Survey auction,” Wilcox was openly dubious.
“Miracles have happened,” Tang Ya pointed out. “I say—try it. If we lose we’re not any the worse—”
It was agreed by a hand vote, no one dissenting, that the crew of the Queen would add their pay to the reserve—sharing in proportion to the sum they had surrendered in any profits to come. Van Rycke by common consent was appointed the bidder. But none of them would have willingly stayed away from the scene of action and Captain Jellico agreed to hire a Field guard as they left the ship in a body to try their luck.
The dusk of Naxos was early, the air away from the fuel vapours of the Field scented with growing things, almost too much so to suit their Terran nostrils. It was a typical frontier town, alive with the flashing signs of noisy cafes. But the men from the Queen went straight to the open market which was to be the auction place.
A pile of boxes made a none-too-stable platform on which stood several men, two in the blue-green uniforms of the Survey, one in rough leather and fabric of the town, and one in the black and silver of the Patrol. All the legalities would be strictly observed even if Naxos was sparsely settled frontier.
Nor were the men gathering there all wearing brown Trade tunics. Some were from the town, come to see the fun. Dane tried to check the badges of rivals by the limited light of the portable flares. Yes, there was an Inter- Solar man, and slightly to his left, the triple circle of the Combine.
The A-s and B-s would be put up first—planets newly contacted by Galactic Survey but with a high degree of civilization —perhaps carrying on interplanetary trade within their own systems, planets which the Companies would find worth dealing with. The C-s—worlds with backward cultures—were more of a gamble and would not be so feverishly sought. And the D-s, those with only the most primitive of intelligent life, or perhaps no intelligent life at all—were the chances within the reach of the Queen.
“Cofort is here—” he heard Wilcox tell the Captain and caught Jellico’s bitter answering exclamation.
Dane looked more closely at the milling crowd. Which one of the men without Company insignia was the legendary prince of Free Traders, the man who had made so many strikes that his luck was famous along the star lanes? But he could not guess.
One of the Survey officers came to the edge of the platform and the noise of the crowd died. His cohort held up a box—the box containing the sealed packets of micro-film—each with the co-ordinates and the description of a newly discovered planet.
The A-s went. There were only three and the Combine man snaffled two of them from the Inter-Solar bidder. But Inter-Solar did much better with the B-s, scooping up both of them. And another Company who specialized in opening up backward worlds plunged on the four C-s. The D-s—
The men of the Queen pressed forward, until with a handful of their independent fellows they were right below the platform.
Rip’s thumb caught Dane in the lower ribs and his lips shaped the name, “Cofort!”
The famous Free Trader was surprisingly young. He looked more like a tough Patrol Officer than a Trader, and Dane noted that he wore a blaster which fitted so exactly to the curve of his hip that he must never be without it. Otherwise, though rumour credited him with several fortunes, he was little different in outward appearance from the other Free Traders. He made no display of wrist bands, rings or the single earring the more spectacular of the well-to-do Traders flaunted, and his tunic was as plain and worn as Jellico’s.
“Four planets—D class—” the voice of the Survey officer brought Dane’s attention back to the business at hand. “Number One—Federation minimum bid—Twenty thousand credits—”
There was a concentrated sigh from the Queen’s crew. No use trying for that. With such a high minimum they would be edged out almost before they had begun. To Dane’s surprise Cofort did not bid either and it went to a Trader from the rim for fifty thousand.
But at the presentation of planet number two, Cofort came to life and briskly walked away from the rest of the field with a bid close to a hundred thousand. No one was supposed to know what information was inside each of those packets, but now they began to wonder if Cofort did have an advance tip.
“Planet Three—D Class—Federation minimum—Fifteen thousand—”
That was more like it! Dane was certain Van Rycke would rise to that. And he did, until Cofort over-topped him with a jump from thirty to fifty thousand in a single offer. Only one chance left. The men from the Queen drew together, forming a knot behind Van Rycke as if they were backing the Cargo-Master in a do or die effort.
“Planet Four—D class—Federation minimum bid fourteen thousand—”
“Sixteen—” Van Rycke’s boom tripped over the Survey announcement.
”Twenty—” that was not Cofort, but a dark man they did not know.
“Twenty-five—” Van Rycke was pushing it.
“Thirty—” the other man matching him in haste.
“Thirty-five!” Van Rycke sounded confident as if he had Cofort’s resources to draw upon.
“Thirty-six—” the dark trader turned cautious.
“Thirty-eight!” Van Rycke made his last offer.
There was no answer. Dane, glancing, saw that Cofort was passing over a voucher and collecting his two
