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[ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] her desk and picked up a thick wad of parchment sheets. ‘The contract signed by your Big Mother specifies a deposit of ten million livres.’ Hezzka nodded to Ivzid. The First Pilot motored forward and slammed the case, an antique embossed with the ceremonial seal of the empire, down on the desk. The crash seemed to disturb the parasites for a moment, causing Hezzka to recall tales of their sensitivity to loud noise. Mr Jottipher then stepped forward and tried to open the case, his small pink fingers struggling with the locked clasps. Ivzid pushed him aside. ‘No, parasite.’ The claws of his front feet tugged at the clasps and the lid of the case swung open on its aged, creaking hydraulics. Hezzka blinked at the brightness of the bounty within. Five rows of stacked guild tokens, edges dazzling in the light from the phosphor globes suspended about the office, rested on a lining of red velvet, each a clawspan wide and marked with the crest of the accursed parasite currency net. Mr Jottipher ran his scanning device over the case. It gave a satisfied beep. ‘All is in order.’ ‘Of course.’ Hezzka tapped the side of the case. ‘The contract was most specific. Why gold?’ The Secunda spread her hands wide. ‘The Management insists. Imagine, General, if the worst were to happen. The markets are volatile. Currencies can lose their value overnight, perhaps disappear totally. And equipment failure or sabotage can eat away at unreal credit. But gold retains its value whatever, and is the only completely safe way to trade.’ Hezzka sighed. The complexity of the parasites’ economic system baffled him, although he’d learnt a lot when setting up Big Mother’s account on Pantorus. As far as he could tell, the idea was that each planet or group of planets had its own form of token, and these fluctuated in value depending on the ratio of exports to imports. The bigger currencies dictated the value of the smaller, and the more powerful decided on policies that increased their own success at the expense of the weak. It was a typical parasite arrangement, ill thought-out, confusing and divisive. What Hezzka was certain of was that most of the money sloshing around the markets was unreal, stored on credit records. That included the wealth created by Zamper, which was part-owned, if not controlled, by the descendant companies of the mysterious consortium that had built the wretched place. ‘Yet,’ he addressed the Secunda, ‘the full payment, when it is made subject to our satisfaction with the goods, will be made via credit-coil. I ask again, why gold for the surety?’ Mr Jottipher replied. ‘It is to establish trust in our dealings, sir. Ten million livres is a substantial amount towards the cost of your goods. If there should be some –’ he licked his lips ‘– problem, Zamper has gained that much at least. Similarly, in the extremely unlikely event of any failure on our part to satisfy you, the deposit can be returned intact.’ He closed the lid on the gold. The two machines from the lobby entered the office and, moving with a briskness Hezzka found disturbing, extended thin probes and lifted the case. In the far wall was a hatch, a metre square, opened by the Secunda using a coder terminal. The case was pushed inside by the servitors. Hezzka took a quick glance at Ivzid. The young officer was looking over the proceedings carefully, suspecting everything. ‘The deposit will remain here until the full payment is made,’ said the Secunda. ‘After which, it will be removed to our strongroom.’ She held up a hand to prevent the safe being closed, and passed the footgun to one of the machines. ‘Store this also,’ she ordered. The mechancial thing signalled its understanding with a beep and placed the footgun on top of the case before removing its probe and swinging the safe door shut. Ivzid snorted and said, ‘You can open the safe and take the gold whenever you wish.’ ‘Not so.’ The Secunda held up the coder terminal, a slender grey unit with multi-coloured buttons. ‘My loyalty to Zamper is total. And even if I, or any other of the staff here, were to attempt such a thing, we couldn’t succeed. The code has already been changed, and the new code will be given by the Management only at the correct time.’ She smiled. ‘Our operation is infallible.’ Hezzka said, ‘It seems plain that your part in the operation is minimal and that your Management rules here.’ ‘It’s not in my character to rule,’ said another parasite voice, which seemed to come from everywhere in the room. ‘I guide.’ Ivzid reared up. ‘Who is that?’ Mr Jottipher pointed to a large oblong screen, previously inert, that faced the Secunda’s seating place. Pictured on the screen was the head and shoulders of another parasite, almost definitely a male, with dark hair growth. Hezzka was intrigued by the image. There seemed to be a tracking error; a trail of silver flashes appeared two thirds of the way down the screen. The new parasite spoke again. ‘I am the Management. I’m sure, General Hezzka, you’ve been made aware of my nature?’ ‘You are not as other parasites, that I know. I know also that you are notoriously secretive as to your origins, and what constitutes you.’ Ivzid laughed disrespectfully. ‘It is another machine carved by the parasites in their own image, to carry out a task for which they are unsuited. Their leader, a machine.’ Hezzka sensed Mr Jottipher’s embarrassment at this outburst, and noted the shuffle of bones in the top of the clerk’s unshielded back. ‘Think what you will,’ the Management said smoothly. ‘You may not be so scornful when you have seen the ship.’ Ivzid straightened. ‘Yes, we must be taken there,’ he said eagerly. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’ The Secunda unfolded herself. 'It’s forbidden for buyers to enter the construction yards.’ ‘What is this? Parasite trickery?’ ‘Certainly not,’ said the Management. ‘For safety reasons, above all else. The caverns of Zamper can be dangerous. But gentlemen, let me assure you. Please look at the Outscreen.’ He tipped his head, indicating the wall behind the Secunda’s desk. A section of the white wall blurred, fogged over, and resolved itself into an image. ‘Yard six, gentlemen,’ said the Management. ‘The largest of the seven, where the final stage of construction approaches. After many months, the Series 336c Delta-Spiral Sun Blaster is taking shape.’ Hezzka moved closer. At first it was difficult to distinguish the scene relayed from yard six. The picture was cluttered and the perspective unclear, and there was only an impression of great activity, some enormous work of industry. The busy scene put him in mind of the artistic works of Zalkaz, who in the high days of the empire five hundred cycles before had covered canvases the length of a hatchery wall with pastoral scenes from the fringe colonies, each minutely-detailed section a separate tableau depicting an aspect of rural life in one of those unsullied outposts. He blinked a couple of times and concentrated, trying to work out the scale of the image. It had been enhanced, presumably by the Management, but there was a fuzzy edging to the objects displayed, as if the yard was underwater. That impression was reinforced by the murky glow of the yard’s phosphor plates, which lit the construction area with pathetic chinks of murky subterranean green in the manner of patches of old moss. Yard six, in accordance with the sketchy information supplied in the brochure, was one of seven gigantic chambers [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] |