More Dangerous Ground

23

More Dangerous Ground

    “There may be a few loose ends,” BrTl noted cautiously, a little later the same morning.

    “To Blerrinbrig’s with that,” replied his Captain. “We’re going.”

    “Um, well, um, shields?”

    “The it-being will maintain the shields on Old Rthfrdia,” said Trff placidly.

    “Yeah? It’ll need to do it from a considerable distance.”

    “Only in terms of the commonly perceived sp—”

    “DON’T SAY IT!” he roared.

    Trff was silent but the merest suggestion of “space-time continuum” lingered somewhere between the air and the brain. However, BrTl managed to overlook it. “Uh—well, what about those nice beings?” he pursued feebly.

    Trff pointed an antenna at Jhl, so possibly it realised that that question had been aimed at her, or possibly it was keeping its tail, metaphorically speaking, well clear.

    “What?” she said blankly. She looked at the Number Twos in her hand and tossed them at the recycler.

    “You’re over-feeding that thing,” grumbled BrTl. “Um, well, um… Well, for Federation’s sake, Jhl, you knew them all, not me!”

    “Most of them don’t remember me any more. Anyway, who gives a cptt-rvvr’s fart?”

    Her ship-companions were silent.

    “We’ve got worse things to worry about. Like getting through IG C&E,” said Jhl briskly.

    Ill-advisedly BrTl began: “At least we can get off the FW dump: they’ve lifted the x’nb web: that day all the locals got drunk was—”

    “Shut up,” she sighed.

    “I mean that first day; I think they still are. The sixty-being-thick queues of diplos with Priority Passes getting off the vacuum-frozen dump have thinned out,” he pointed out.

    Trff went to a port. “It can see a huge queue over by the IG C&E office, still. The dump’s swarming with IG Militia, too.”

    “Yes, well, it will be until after the Referendum,” noted Jhl. “Or longer, if whoever gains power asks them to stay. Any Space Patrollers?”

    It replied literally: “Twenty-three currently on duty checking out-going travellers.”

    “Any in-coming travellers?” asked BrTl curiously.

    “Fourteen.”

    BrTl rolled his eyes.

    “Ten of them are J’rd’s staff, one’s—”

    “That’ll do, I get it,” he sighed. “Fourteen,” he muttered.

    “They were on that Bhylloblaster that landed two point four, three hours back, local time. Talking of Bhylloblasters—”

    “Yes,” agreed BrTl grimly.

    Jhl became aware that the attention of her two ship-companions was focused on her. Indeed, had it not been for the fact that there were only two of the asteroid-brains, she’d have said she was surrounded by them. “Look, G’gg’ll be safer here than with us, you pair of blobbed-out asteroid-brains!”

    “Not if the Y-K-W gets hold of him-it,” replied Trff instantly, just as BrTl was going to.

    “Yeah. That,” he agreed.

    “Uh—Vvlvanian curses,” she muttered. “Look, what if they’re waiting for us on Whtyll?”

    “We’ll probably be able to do a bit more about it than if they kidnap G’gg behind our backs,” BrTl pointed out. Though not precisely with confidence.

    “Ye-es... I’m wondering how much Captain Marvel might have communicated.”

    “Well, yeah!” he agreed with feeling.

    She sighed. “I suppose the grqwary dropping might be slightly safer with us. Get him.”

    “It is,” agreed Trff.

    G’gg panted aboard two minutes later, local time. “Hey, Slgg! Didja want me?”

    “No, but we decided it was the slightly less ugly alternative,” said his aunt grimly. “We’re going. Don’t ask questions.”

    “But I—What about paxeR an’ Jaff-Joff an’ everybody?” he gasped.

    “What about them?”

    “I gotta say goodbye!” he protested.

    “You-it’ll probably have the opportunity to do that,” noted Trff, returning to the port, “during the long, long wait to get through IG C&E. –That queue’s grown,” it noted.

    “Then GET A MOVE ON!” roared its Captain.

    “The ship’s ready, sir,” admitted BrTl glumly.

    Yes, the ship agreed.

    “The drive’s ready, sir,” admitted Trff.

    “IDs? Travel Permits? Off-Passes? On-Passes to wherever it is we’re supposed to be heading for? Manifest?” said Jhl through her teeth.

    The manifest’s ready, reported the ship. –Captain, it added quickly.

    “Good. –Well?”

    “Done,” reported Trff.

    “Ooh!” gasped G’gg as a Travel Permit appeared in his hand.

    BrTl had a look at it. “WHAT?” he shrieked.

    Jhl grabbed it out of her nephew’s hand while the echoes had barely reached halfway down the companionway. “WHAT?” she bellowed.

    When the echoes had ceased quivering Trff said glumly: “It’s only a small one. It thought that if it appeared to be G’gg’s it’d be less… suspicious, Captain,” it ended glumly.

    “Where is it?” she said through her teeth.

    Trff was at the port again. “A Guardsbeing’s bringing it now.”

    They waited. Jhl did a bit of heavy breathing through flared nostrils, BrTl did quite a lot of heavy breathing down both noses and quite a lot of glaring, and Trff pretended it was unconcerned. G’gg was merely bewildered: he hadn’t had a chance to read the Travel Permit.

    Then Fl’Oo-ooueroii appeared, emanating fear and jealousy. “The Palace Guards have brought a horrid puce being for the Great One, Great BrJk!” it reported. It saluted hopefully.

    “Don’t salute,” he groaned. The blue Flppu continued to emanate fear and jealousy. “It’s all right, we still want you, Fl—uh, Fl’Mnn-nnlluyii,” he sighed.

    “But the Great One—”

    “It’s a present from the Regent. The Great One can’t refuse it,” said Jhl through her teeth.

    “No, indeed, Captain!” it squeaked hopefully,

    “Trot it in,” she groaned.

    The Flppu looked at BrTl. “Shall I, Great Captain BrJk?”

    “Uh—yes. Trot it in,” he groaned.

    Fl’Oo-ooueroii disappeared, to return with a small, grubby puce example of its own species on a silver chain.

    “Ooh!” gasped G’gg.

    “I gather the Palace didn’t have time to wash it,” said Jhl acidly. “Where did that chain come from?”

    “The Regent of Old Rthfrdia in gracious person bestowed this chain on this humble Flppu, Great Captain!” it squeaked,

    Behind the bravado it was terrified. “Trff, do something,” said Jhl in a low voice.

    Trff went over to the Flppu and took one of its flexible appendages in a kindly tentacle.

    There was a short silence. “Is it better?” gulped G’gg.

    “In your-its terms, G’gg, yes. It’s removed its fears, and many unpleasant memories of its time with its former master,” said Trff.

    “Yes,” said Jhl, shutting her eyes for a moment. “Thanks very much, Trff—uh, Slgg.”

    “I suppose it really is a Flppu?” said BrTl uneasily.

    Everyone looked at Trff.

    “No doubt of it,” it said placidly.

    Everyone sagged. Except Fl’Oo-ooueroii, who was still emanating jealousy.

    “Fl’Mnn-nnlluyii,” said Jhl, scratching her head, “you are to be Great BrT—Great BrJk’s Flppu. This one is to be Slgg’s Flppu. It’s much smaller than you, isn’t it?”

    “Yes, indeed, Captain Smt Wong!” squeaked the bright blue Flppu, perking up amazingly, and bobbing a bit. “I’m to be Great BrJk’s Flppu!”

    “Good. Um, could you choose a nice cabin for G’gg, then, and take him to it? And um, tidy it up a bit for him and get him some breakfast.”

    Fl’Oo-ooueroii looked hopefully at BrTl. “Yes, do that, Fl’Mnn-nnlluyii,” he said feebly.

    Proudly the blue Flppu led G’gg out.

    “The mention of breakfast was a good tactical move,” said Trff admiringly to its Captain.

    “Don’t speak, thanks, you’re not off the hook for this yet,” she said grimly, eying the grubby little puce Flppu that had once belonged to Captain Marvel. “What’s your name?” she asked it.

    “I am S-Flppu, Captain.”

    “Y—Uh, I know that, but what’s your name?”

    “I haven’t got a name. My former master called me S-Flppu.”

    BrTl burst out: “By the three-tongued blurryankers of Tr—”

    “Yes. Hush,” said Jhl weakly. “You’re frightening it. –Come here, S-Flppu.”

    Timidly the dirty little puce Flppu came. Jhl took its grubby flexible appendage in her hand, not without distaste, and said: “On this ship all beings have personal names. And you will no longer be an s-being.”

    “But… What shall I do?” it said dolefully.

    “Uh—well, you’ll just be the Great It-Being’s Flppu.”

    “Pools of puce soup,” said BrTl dreamily to the ceiling.

    Jhl bit her lip. That was better than the crazy jagged nightmare of pain, fear and humiliation that Trff had removed from what passed for its mind.

    “May it speak, Captain?” asked her Chief Engineer meekly.

    She took a deep breath. “Go on.”

    “You-it will be its Flppu. You-it and it’ll travel round the universe together on a nice comfortable ship,” explained Trff kindly.

    After a moment the Flppu squeaked: “S-Fl’Slgg’s-Flppu would be a nice name!”

    Jhl ruffled her hair. “Why couldn’t he have given it to A’ailh’sa?” she muttered.

    “He-it was afraid that she-it might not look after it properly,” explained Trff.

    “Yeah,” she sighed. “Something like that. Well, it’s yours, Trff: think of a nice name for it!”

    “A permanent name,” said BrTl dreamily to the ceiling.

    “At the moment its records are all—Never mind that,” said Trff quickly. “Fl’Jfaffl.”

    Since “jfaffl” meant “puce” in Friyrian, Jhl and BrTl looked at their Chief Engineer, to say the least, dubiously. It merely emanated placidity in return.

    “Oh, well, why not?” he groaned.

    “Would you like to be called—Wait,” said Jhl. “Where’s your key, S-Flppu?”

    One of its flexible appendages held a little silver purse. Undoubtedly also a present from the Regent. It held it out humbly.

    Jhl swallowed a sigh. Any being with an ounce of nous— Oh, well, it had been under the eye of a large Palace Guardsman, she supposed it hadn’t dared. She removed the key from the little purse and gave the purse back to the Flppu. “That’s your very own, to keep.” She unlocked and removed the bracelet. The Flppu looked at her dazedly.

    BrTl got up, creaking a bit. “Allow me.”

    Jhl handed him key and bracelet. He headed for the drive.

    “It’s explained it to it,” said Trff.

    “I would like to be Fl’Jfaffl, Captain!” it squeaked hopefully.

    “Okay, then. Fl’Jfaffl you are.”

    “Thank you, Captain! Thank you, Great One!” it squeaked.

    Jhl passed a hand over her face. “Get it out of here, feed it, and take it to a hygiene cabinet and clean it,” she said heavily to her Chief Engineer. “And oy—” she said as they were about to exit, appendage-in-tentacle. “Just try to remember that it’s a sentient being that needs to eat and sleep, will you-it?”

    “Of course!”

    They exited.

    Jhl groaned and slumped where she sat, in the pilot’s seat.

    After a moment the ship asked: Can we go?

    “Just as soon as we’ve cleared IG C&E,” she groaned

    After a moment the ship reported: One small Flppu (puce) has been added to the manifest.

    “Good,” groaned Jhl, shutting her eyes.

    “If you’re intending to take this off-world,” said the IG Customs and Excise official with distaste, “don’t you think Decontam. might not be a bad idea?”

    “We did wash it,” Jhl replied feebly.

    The IG C&E official signalled to a Space Patroller, who hurried up eagerly. So far no-one had tried to smuggle anything at all off Old Rthfrdia: very possibly, certain beings had hazarded a guess, because there was nothing on the FW dump worth smuggling.

    “Decontam.,” said the IG C&E official with distaste, pointing to Fl’Jfaffl.

    “Ugh. You said it. –Come on, you.” For good measure, he blinked at the rest of them. “Hang on,” he said. He pulled the IG C&E official aside and spoke earnestly into her auscultatory organ. The IG C&E official was observed to turn a suspicious visual organ their way. Their party tried not to blench. Then the IG C&E official was observed to speak into her comm-blob.

    “That’s It,” muttered BrTl.

    Jhl kicked his near front shin.

    “Ow! Don’t do that, that leg’s giving me gyp, the Y-K-W clawed it to Blerrinbrig’s.”

    The IG C&E official lounged back over to them. “Over there,” she said laconically.

    Gloomily they all went over there.

    “We’ve had it,” said BrTl under his breath as a door at the rear of the IG C&E inspection area opened and a real live IG Minerals Commission Collector, in uniform, covered in sparf, was seen to be heading for their blenching selves.

    “Get a grip,” ordered his Captain tightly. “It’s only a Collector.”

    “Otherwise known as a Deputy-Commissioner! I’ve never even seen one in the flesh! Well, not up close,” he admitted as the Collector came up to them, accompanied by the Space Patroller, another Space Patroller, and ulp, as if it wasn’t bad enough already, a Space Patrol Captain. All with their shades lowered.

    “Documentation,” said the Collector briefly.

    –To make it worse, he was a humanoid with Whtyllian flashes up. Probably a near-cognate to Y-K-W. BrTl saluted—not entirely due to Ro’aan-Furi’yo’s reaction, in this instance. The Collector ignored him.

    They were silent as he blinked at their documentation.

    “Ambassador Slp-Og V. Slgg?” he said.

    “Yes, Collector?” hooted Trff unconvincingly.

    “You’re travelling to—er—Urrgaynia II, is it? Yes: on Lieutenant BrJk’s ship?”

    “This xathpyroid: yes. It’ll trans-ship back to Zll from there.”

    The IG M.C. Collector, who was an extremely handsome Whtyllian indeed, of about Shank’yar Vt R’aam’s age, none of which helped, rubbed his pointed chin. “I’d advise against it, Ambassador. But it’s your business. May I ask what’s happened to your banner?”

    “Banner?” it hooted. “Oh! The Royal Palace will forward it, Collector.”

    “Mm. Have a nice, and if possible, safe trip. I’ll have to ask you to wait until we clear this lot, I’m afraid.”

    Meanwhile, the Space Patrol Captain, emanating waves of boredom, had come up to Jhl. “Name, rank, serial number.”

    Not bothering to say she was only Wavey-Spacey, Jhl stood to attention and gave them to it. It was a Thwurbullerian. Not an extremely large one, true, but nevertheless  sufficiently intimidating. It looked in a bored way at her documentation. “Supernumerary with this lot, are you?”

    “Yes, Space.”

    “Go and stand over there. Take that filthy puce Flppu with you.” Still emanating waves of boredom, it approached BrTl. “Name, rank, serial number.”

    BrTl stood to attention and gave them to it.

    “We’re taking a look at your ship,” the Space Patrol Captain said, blinking.

    “Yes, Space.”

    “Where were you before—uh—Urrgaynia II?” It blinked at his dokko again.

    BrTl cleared his throat. “Just what it says there, Space. I had a cargo of oddlis I was trying to discharge. It took a while. The market’s depressed. Over-supply.”

    “Uh-huh.” It looked up suddenly. “Been on Whtyll recently?

    “No, Space. Is there another outbreak of b’x-fever there?” asked BrTl respectfully.

    “No. But I’d advise you to steer clear of Quarvaynia. The whole place is quarantined.”

    “Thank you very much, Space, I will.”

    The Space Patrol Captain looked him up and down slowly. BrTl stood his ground, hoping his shield looked as much like a BrJk shield as he meant it to and that behind that pretty genuine-looking Space Patrol Captain’s shield the Thwurbullerian had up, there wasn’t another one emitting a faint gdoyng, gdoyng.

    “Why go back to Urrgaynia II?”

    “I made some useful contacts there. My secondment’s over, you see.”

    “Uh-huh. This blue Flppu’s yours, is it?”

    “I’m the Great BrJk’s Flppu!” it squeaked, bobbing.

    “Shut up,” said BrTl out of the corner of his mouth. “–Sorry, Space. They get like that. Um, it is my ship’s Flppu, yes. I’d have left it aboard to be checked with the ship, but it’s been on-world, so I thought I’d better bring it along,”—Vvlvanian curses, he was talking too much—“in case it needed Decontam.”

    You would have sworn the Thwurbullerian hadn’t heard a word. It blinked at him. BrTl managed not to gulp. “Which one is Supernumerary G’gg Smt Wong?”

    “That one. Humanoid,” said BrTl glumly.

    “Right. Go and stand over there. –Oh: leave that Flppu, it’s clean.”

    Abandoning Fl’Oo-ooueroii, BrTl went miserably over to stand by Jhl and Fl’Jfaffl. They were hand-in-appendage, he didn’t know that he blamed them.

    The IG Minerals Commission Collector was now conferring with a—gulp—IG Customs and Excise Inspector. Also in uniform, covered in sparf.

    If you’ve got anything aboard I don’t know about, said his Captain’s voice clearly in BrTl’s head, I personally will dismember you very slowly and feed the bits while they’re still twitching to a Gervaynian kryy.

    I haven’t!

    Then stop FIDGETING!

    It’s my leg, he whined: it’s giving me— He stopped, she’d blocked him out.

    Meanwhile, the Thwurbullerian Space Patrol Captain, emanating gusts of boredom, had confronted G’gg. “Name.”

    G’gg stood to attention and gasped: “G’gg Smt Wong, sir!”

    “Supernumerary, are you?” it said in a bored voice.

    “Yes, Space!”

    “How was Old Rthfrdia?”

    “Um—all right. –I went in a Kernarvian balloon, and an Eeiiay took me for a ride!” he burst out. –BrTl heard Jhl draw a deep breath. He gritted his crunchers and tried to close his ears.

    “Sounds like fun. Seen the little zoo near the Botanic Gardens?”

    “Yeah, but they haven’t got much.”

    “No. What about Captain Marvel’s Carnival Extravaganza, did you try that?” –Jhl and BrTl were turned to stone.

    “Yeah, but it was pretty mangy. And my friend Joff, he sicked up the Gelbo-Delight we bought there, an’ guess what? His father said it was recycled lubolyon!”

    “Yeah. You’re an IG-minor. Who’s in charge of you?”

    “My Aunty Jhl: Captain Smt Wong, Space.”

    “Uh-huh. Going home, are you?”

    “Nah! Aunty Jhl says I can see a bit of the two galaxies!” he said proudly.

    “Hm. According to the manifest, that dirty puce Flppu’s yours. Where did you get it?”

    Don’t panic, said his Captain’s voice in BrTl’s head. And STOP FIDGETING!

    G’gg was explaining eagerly: “Slgg, it gave it to me, ’cos it’s a bit mangy, and it’s not that interested in Flppus. But it couldn’t give it back, it was a present from the Regent, ’cos it’s, like, an Ambassador, see!”

    “Hm. What are you going to do with it?”

    Help! We never thought of that one! sent BrTl frantically.

    “Um—dunno. It can be my friend, I s’pose. It’s a bit dim, but Flppus all are. But they know about stuff like the recyclers an’ junk, and how to order anything ya fancy for breakfast on the ship.” –“Federation help us,” muttered Jhl.

    “Uh-huh. Those the boots you wore to the Carnival Extravaganza?”

    “Um—yeah.”

    “Go and stand over there with your Aunty Jhl.”

    G’gg scrambled over to them, looking awed. “It’s a real Space Patrol Captain!” he hissed. “Didja see its blaster? An’ see that on its other, like, side? That’s a probe! Galaxious, eh?”

    “Oh, galaxious,” agreed BrTl, shutting his eyes for a brief instant.

    “Um, what’s gonna happen now?” ventured G’gg.

    “You, me, BrJk, and Fl’Jfaffl are all gonna go through IG C&E Decontam.,” replied his aunt grimly.

    “Hey, really? Galaxious!” he gasped.

    “Why isn’t the Great One with us?” squeaked the puce Flppu fearfully.

    “Uh—I suppose they, um, think it’s clean,” offered Jhl feebly.

    “So is that blue one clean, too?” it said jealously. “It’s with the Great One!”

    G’gg took a spare appendage kindly in his grimy, sticky hand. “Yeah. Never mind that, Fl’Jfaffl, you an’ me can go through Decontam. together, eh? How’d ya like that?”

    Fl’Jfaffl appeared thrilled by this proposition.

    A Nblyterian Space Patroller strolled up to them. Tall, broad-shouldered, so definitely female and probably had been for some time. “Who’s first, then?” she said, sounding horribly bored.

    “I’ll go first,” said BrTl heavily, just as his supernumerary was about to claim captain’s privilege.

    “Not you,” said the Space Patroller. “One of these.”

    “Can’t me and Fl’Jfaffl go together?” asked G’gg hopefully.

    “Ugh. You can if you want to. Through here. –The LOT OF YOU!” she finished rather loudly as BrTl sighed and sank to a recumbent position.

    He got up again resignedly. “It’s this leg,” he muttered, as they all went into a vast, pale grey hangar with several IG C&E Decontam. units standing around looking sort of lost in it. Even though one was big enough to cope with the largest of elderly Mklontians.

    “In there,” ordered the Space Patroller in a bored voice.

    “Galaxious! Come on, Fl’Jfaffl!” cried G’gg.

    They went in.

    Jhl and BrTl eyed each other nervously.

    “Siddown, if you like,” said the Space Patroller in a bored voice. She strolled away, looking bored. There was a small, hard-looking humanoid-type chair by the wall. Jhl sat on it. Groaning slightly, but forbearing to express aloud the thought that primmo worlds never did provide xathpyroid corners, BrTl lowered himself to the floor beside her.

    They waited…

    Nothing, BrTl reported after some time. They’re scouring that miserable Flppu, though.

    Jhl gave the slightest of shrugs.

    They waited…

    The recycler next to the Decontam. unit emitted a loud burp or two. Apart from that nothing much else happened, except that a depressed-looking Bdeeg was ushered in none-too-gently at the business end of a Meanker Space Patroller’s blaster and shoved none-too-gently into the next but one Decontam. unit.

    “Be up the whistle,” noted BrTl airily to the ceiling.

    “Whatever it is,” returned his Captain acidly.

    They waited…

    The Bdeeg emerged, looking chastened. After a moment the unit hurled its FW pack at it. It put it on. The IG M.C. Collector strolled in, looking bored. The Meanker Space Patroller, saluting smartly, reported. They couldn’t hear, in the huge hangar, exactly what. The IG M.C. Collector nodded. The Meanker ushered the Bdeeg none-too-gently out by a far door.

    Quog smuggling, sent BrTl, managing not to shudder.

    Uh-huh, she agreed. Shlaa-tinted.

    The Collector vanished in the wake of the Patroller and the prisoner. They waited…

    G’gg and the puce Flppu emerged from the Decontam. unit. G’gg was beaming. “That’s right, Fl’Jfaffl: now, ya got ya purse, eh? And ya chain: right. Lemme loop it up. Come on, then!” They came over to the pair by the wall. “It was galaxious!”

    “He looks... a different colour,” said BrTl feebly.

    “Clean,” said his aunt drily. “It took a Space Patrol Decontam. unit to do it, but he’s actually clean. A pity his mother isn’t here to see him.”

    “Look, they gimme a new pair of boots!” he said proudly. “Space Issue!”

    “Service Issue, certainly. They look sturdy enough,” admitted Jhl. “What about Fl’Jfaffl? You look very smart, Fl’Jfaffl! Very um—fluffy.”

    “Have they trimmed it?” muttered BrTl out of the corner of his mouth, rolling his eyes slightly.

    “Ssh!” she hissed as it squeaked proudly: “I’m very clean, Captain!”—bobbing.

    “Yeah,” agreed G’gg, grinning proudly at it. “Smell it! –Go on!”

    Gingerly Jhl approached her one nose and BrTl his two to the puce Flppu.

    “Help, they’ve scented it,” she croaked.

    “Yes: not bad, is it? Flowery, but not too sweet, I'd say. Um, what was that tea beings had on the third moon of Pkqwrd that time?” BrTl asked himself. “A bit like that, is that possible?”

    “Yes: feverfew,” said Jhl, smiling. “Lovely!”

    “I smell lovely!” squeaked the puce Flppu, bobbing.

    “I swear it’s five shades paler,” said BrTl limply.

    “I’ve been in a great big hygiene cabinet, Great BrJk!” it squeaked, bobbing.

    “Yeah, it was like that,” agreed G’gg, grinning. “Very up-market. Showers and sprays and gases an’ stuff. –It was galaxious, wasn’t it, Fl’Jfaffl?”

    “Yes, and then warm air comes and fluffs you up!” it squeaked, bobbing madly.

    “It’s got a bit above itself,” he explained tolerantly. “Though mind you, it had a P,A,N,I,C when them massage blobs took its—uh—P,U,R,S,E off it.”

    Jhl and BrTl looked at each other limply.

    “Yes, well, thanks for going in there with it, G’gg,” she said feebly.

    “Hey, that’s all right!”

    Massage blobs? sent BrTl on a mad note.

    Jhl shrugged slightly.

    They waited…

    “You next,” said the Nblyterian Space Patroller in a bored voice, waving her blaster casually at Jhl.

    When Jhl came out of the “great big hygiene cabinet”, slightly ruffled, her Durocloth coveralls three shades lighter, but smelling very sweet—for unknown reasons the Decontam. unit had chosen roses for her—BrTl was still slumped glumly by the wall. There was no sign of the others. The Nblyterian was waiting for her. She jerked the blaster at the door through which the Bdeeg had earlier vanished. Jhl went that way, wincing.

    The door led to a featureless corridor. Jhl was ushered into an anteroom. The Space Patroller held the blaster steady on her. Jhl didn’t speak, it would have been pointless.

    Finally the door to an Inner Sanctum opened. The Nblyterian gestured her in with the blaster, Jhl went in, and the door closed softly behind her.

    It was a large and sufficiently luxurious office. The Whtyllian IG M.C. Collector was lounging at his ease on a small flop couch. However, at ease or not, he hadn’t unfastened the high, stiff collar of his black and gold, standard-humanoid-issue IG Minerals Commission uniform: generally reckoned to be a Bad Sign by those who had to confront IG M.C. Collectors. There was no other being in sight but Jhl didn’t kid herself that that meant she could make a run for it. He sat up, but not very much, as she came in.

    “Sit down,” he murmured.

    Jhl sat down on another small flop couch, set at right angles to his. She didn’t make the mistake of trying to sit to attention on it, flop couches were apt to over-compensate for the rigidity and you ended up making an utter idiot of yourself. If that mattered, which by contrast with a lifetime’s incarceration in the xrillion mines of Vvlvania, about the best scenario which could be envisaged at the point where one got hauled into the actual office of an actual IG M.C. Collector, it possibly didn’t.

    The Collector had something in his right hand which he was tossing negligently into the air. He continued to do so. Jhl had heard of various forms of hypnotism where that sort of thing was the preliminary stage, but she’d never heard of a Whtyllian, nor yet a high-ranking IG M.C. being, indulging in them: they were all pretty primmo. She looked at him blankly.

    Finally he caught whatever it was, turned to face her and said: “Yes.” He opened his hand and showed her what was in the palm.

    A nice piece of shlaa-tinted quog. For a moment a blind fury engulfed Jhl: she was absolutely convinced it was a set-up: he’d got it off the Bdeeg smuggler! Then she remembered the “massage blobs” in the Decontam. unit: her hand went to her button before she could stop it.

    The IG M.C. Collector flicked the quog button up once and caught it again.

    “The IG M.C.’s invented super-un-permo-ungell?” she gulped.

    “Something like that.”

    “Thank the Federation! I thought the Vvlvanian-cursed thing’d be with me till my dying day!”

    “Ah.”

    There was a short pause. The Collector looked thoughtfully at the stone in his hand.

    “I’ve got all the dokko for it,” offered Jhl feebly.

    “Yes, Captain Smt Wong, all your documentation is in amazingly correct order,” he murmured.—Not only because he sounded very like Shank’yar, Jhl looked at him angrily.—“However, explain to me how you came by this jewel.”

    She took a deep breath, largely in order not to lose her temper disastrously. “I had it done on Sfthnyxer, at Sh-Rn’s Quog Cave.”

    “Yes?”

    “At the request,” said Jhl through her pearlized teeth, “of a vacuum-frozen Whtyllian lordship!”

    “Ah.” He flicked the button up once and this time caught it in his left hand. “Who?”

    To lie at this stage would be extremely injudicious. Extremely. Besides, it was always best to stick as close to the truth as possible when you had an opponent worthy of your steel. Which this one was: there was an ordinary IG M.C. Collector’s shield up, but Jhl barely noticed that. But behind it there was a much, much nastier one, emanating gdoyng, gdoyng if she so much as stroked it, let alone attempted to probe it. Not that she cared about his nasty little IG M.C. secrets, he could keep them, and welcome! She could only hope that behind it he wasn’t probing her. She didn’t think so. But if he was really, really good, then she wouldn’t think so, would she? At one stage Trff had sent her a Hold on message, then it had stopped. Jhl wasn’t thinking about the implications of that. Besides, it was possible that some being had merely offered it a triple shot of fermented laa.

    “It was Fleet Commander Lord Shank’yar Vt R’aam,” she said grimly, “and before you start, I bitterly regret the day I agreed to have it done! But that doesn’t mean he’d be very pleased to hear about this!” –Sometimes attack was the best form of defence.

    “Really? Our information is that you had a flaming row with him and walked out on him, not long after you had this quog—er—super-permo-gelled to you: whereupon Lord Vt R’aam retired to his nirvana garden on Playfair Two with a Playfair Pleasure Girl.”

    –And sometimes it wasn’t. “We’ve had rows before. We’re still friends, whether or not  we’re lovers,” she said tightly.

    “Oh? And where exactly is Fleet Commander Lord Vt R’aam at this moment, Captain?”

    “I don’t know!” said Jhl impatiently. “I’m not his keeper and he’s not mine! If he’s not on duty, he might be at the nirvana garden, or on Whtyll with his old mum. Or anywhere else in the Known Universe! Your guess is as good as mine.”

    “His old mum?” echoed the handsome Whtyllian, staring at her.

    Jhl shrugged impatiently.

    “This story of an on-again, off-again relationship interspersed with rows is beginning to make some sort of crazy sense,” he murmured.

    “If that’s all you wanted to know, can I go? And I’ll have that button back, thanks, just in case he gets to hear it’s come off and demands it or its value in super-igs.”

    “A Lord of Whtyll,” said the IG M.C. Collector, curling his well-modelled lip disdainfully, “does not demand the return of love tokens from a discarded paramour.”

    “From a what?” she said limply.

    “You heard.” He held the quog button out in his fingertips, just as if it had come from somewhere as nasty as a Bdeeg’s whistle, and dropped it into her palm without touching her.

    “Look, can I go? You’ve been over every pore on my body, there’s nothing else that you could possibly imagine is contraband!”

    “No,” he said baldly. He must have sent a signal, though Jhl hadn't picked anything up: an s-being hurried in, bowing. “K’fi, please. Or would you prefer gl’g, Captain?”

    “Neither, thanks.”

    “They will not be drugged, I can assure you: our methods do not need to be that crude.”

    At least he’d picked up what she’d intended him to pick up. Or was pretending he had. One of those. “I don’t much like either of them, actually.”

    “I don’t think it will run to zi,” he said mildly. “Bring the Captain a fruit juice, S-Tm.”

    “Is he a Whtyllian?” said Jhl weakly as the servant bowed and went out. He was wearing the baggy Whtyllian trousers topped with a short, narrow jacket that she was accustomed to see Shank’yar’s servants in. But where Shan’s were usually in pastels, or, in his more official moments, sombre deep maroon with a gold trim, the Collector’s s-being was in plain white.

    “Mm? Oh, certainly. One is more comfortable with one’s own people about one, don't you find?”

    “No. I’m a Bluellian,” said Jhl grimly.

    S-Tm hurried in again with the drinks on a tray. “Please,” said the Collector courteously.

    “Thank you,” said Jhl feebly to S-Tm, taking her drink. She sipped it, trying not to slurp: it was a bit gluggy. Real mn-mn pulp, what else? Nothing was too good for the IG M.C.

    The Collector sipped his k’fi silently for a moment. Then he said: “How long have you known Lieutenant-Pilot BrJk?”

    Jhl had been more or less expecting that one. “Not long. I met him on Urrgaynia II when the delegations were assembling. Look,” she said, setting her glass down on a little table and running her hand through her hair: “if you’ve got something on the being, for Federation’s sake arrest him and get it over with! My sister-in-IG-law will half kill me if she finds out I’ve been letting my nephew consort with criminal types! We can make other arrangements to get off this FW dump: there are ships leaving every day in droves.”

    He sipped k’fi. “Something like twenty-four percent of that speech has me something like fifteen percent convinced, Captain. –Yes, I’m as surprised as you are,” he added, even though Jhl was almost sure she hadn’t emanated anything except impatience. “Why is your nephew with you?”

    Jhl picked up her drink again, looking resigned. “He won a trip on a Bhylloblaster. And I got this secondment to the Belraynian Delegation, and they said I could bring a staff, so I let him come. He’s been stuffing himself on maxi-shakes and Federation-knows-what, and going on all the rides, the sillier the better, and in short,” she said, drawing a deep breath: “he’s possibly the only off-world being to have actually enjoyed this plasmo-blasted diplo junket!”

    “More than likely. Though I think the Belraynian Delegate’s offspring also came. They must be around his IG age. And some of the Kernarvians have their children with them. –So what were the circumstances in which you met Lieutenant BrJk?” he said smoothly.

    Jhl had to swallow. “He invited me aboard his ship. I suppose he was bored. There was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing amongst the delegations while we waited for the x’nb-web to be lifted.”

    “No doubt. Why should he invite you?”

    “He’s a Br-cognate. I know his distant cognate, BrTl, very well.”

    “Oh, yes: Lieutenant-Pilot BrTl: also of Space Fleet Reserve. And where is he, Captain? Or do you lose track of First Officers as easily as you do of ex-lovers?”

    “I don’t know exactly where he is; we’re merchant traders, we go where the cargoes and the markets are. And he’s an adult being, he’s as capable as I am. I’m planning to wait for him on Urrgaynia II, it’s a bit more central than this vacuum-frozen FW.”

    “Mm.” He finished his k’fi and set it down. “What is it?” he said as Jhl looked into the cup whilst trying to appear as if she wasn’t.

    “I beg your pardon, Collector,” she said lamely. “That was rude. I can never believe that any humanoid being really likes that stuff. –Fleet Commander Vt R’aam drinks it, too.”

    “Yes, it has always been popular on Whtyll. Not with the lower classes, however.”

    “You mean they can’t afford it!”

    He stood up. “Yes. –I think they’re ready for us. May I?”

    Jhl goggled at his outstretched hand. “Are you offering this contaminated lower-class discarded paramour your spotless Whtyllian hand?”

    To her immense astonishment a dark tide rose up the strong golden neck that was so very like Shan’s from the tight uniform collar. Just like Shan when she’d really got to him!

    “That’s absurd. And I think you know it.” He looked at her steadily. His slanted eyes were not blue, like Shan’s and his sons’, but a stormy grey.

    Jhl’s heart beat absurdly fast. This was ridiculous! Of course, he was very like Shank’yar in looks, and then, she’d been restraining herself with regard to the Regent, not to say Drouwh Mk-L’ster, for months, but— No, really!

    “You flatter me,” he said coolly. “I am only a distant cousin of the Vt R’aams.”

    Jhl hadn’t seen the genetic link, largely because, what an asteroid-head, she hadn’t bothered to look. “I see.” She put her hand in his and got up on legs that shook a little.

    He opened the door. “I’ve got something to show you. It should be ready by now.”

    Jhl went out, frowning. As he stood back politely for her, Whtyllian-fashion, and as she was concentrating on giving him the impression that she wasn’t concentrating on him, she didn’t notice that a sour little smile appeared on the long mouth that was very like Shank’yar’s or that there was a very nasty gleam indeed in those attractive stormy-grey eyes.

    Back in the hangar BrTl had just come out of the Decontam. unit. He was rubbing his foreleg but reported: “My leg feels a lot better.”

    The Collector was beckoning to the Nblyterian Space Patroller. She came up, no longer looking bored, and saluted smartly. “Well?” he said.

    “Yessir! As you expected. Sir!”

    “Good. Fetch it, please, and the Customs and Excise Inspector, if you would.”

    “Yes, sir!” Saluting again, the Space Patroller wheeled and marched herself off.

    Put-up job, said BrTl sourly in Jhl’s head.

    Yeah.

    When the Space Patroller returned she was escorting not only the IG C&E Inspector, fully armed and with his visor down, but also her own Thwurbullerian Captain. It was also fully armed and with its visor down. Ooh, goody, let’s have the whole pile dropped on us at once! thought Jhl acidly. She could feel BrTl thinking very much the same thing.

    The Space Patroller—now with her visor down and her Space Issue impermi-gloves on—was bearing a small xrillion dish. She held it out silently.

    “Ugh!” said BrTl, recoiling. “Sort of spidery, isn’t it? Pink, too. Not to be anything-ist.”

    Jhl’s jaw had dropped.

    “I see you’ve recognised it, Captain Smt Wong,” said the Collector smoothly. “Perhaps you’d like to explain to the rest of us what it is, in that case?”

    “Um, I’ve never actually seen one before!” she gulped. “Be careful, Collector!”

    “I am being very careful, but thank you for your concern, Captain.”

    Jhl saw that he had a mind-lock on it. She swallowed. “It’s a Ybbertullian symbiote. Or nboitheroid,” she added weakly. “Or spy-symb,” she added even more weakly.

    BrTl blenched and backed off. “Look,” he began, drawing a deep breath: “if any being here is proposing to implant that in any other being here, may I remind you that it’s IG-illegal in terms of the— Well, in any case there’s an Ambassador out there that you can’t Vvlvanian-cursed-well arrest!” he ended loudly. “And it’s a witness!”

    “There’s no need to shout,” said the Collector coldly. “And far from being a witness, Its Excellency’s asleep in one of our Guest Rooms. But you have it quite wrong, Lieutenant, this symbiote is not for any one of you: on the contrary, it was taken from one of you.”

    Jhl rubbed her button dubiously. Not from her, it hadn’t been. –Great steaming piles of mok droppings! The asteroid-brain!

    “Your leg, in fact, Lieutenant,” added the Collector calmly.

    BrTl gulped. “But I— Well, what being put it there?”

    “We were wondering that,” said the Collector smoothly.

    “Yes,” agreed the IG C&E Inspector. “And who you were intending to spy on with it, too.”

    “I wasn’t!” he cried.

    “Then who was?” said the IG C&E Inspector coldly.

    “Yes; and why?” added the Space Patrol Captain. Through its visor: no small parasitic, not to mention worse, beings on that Thwurbullerian, that was for sure!

    There was a short but nasty silence. Jhl didn’t dare to send. And why that other asteroid-brain had let itself be talked into going into a Guest Room with a nest in it—! She could now sense that, far from being ruthlessly probed or tortured or drugged into Telling All, G’gg and the two Flppus were happily ensconced in an anteroom in front of the Funnies Service, laughing themselves silly and stuffing themselves on ooff-puffs, real Gelbo-Delight and chewing-taffy. Well, possibly it was a form of preliminary mind-softening, but as none of them knew anything and their minds were pretty soft already, it couldn’t matter.

    Hang on, this is a double bluff! sent BrTl excitedly. Uh—isn’t it?

    Jhl ignored that and said feebly to the Collector: “He might have picked it up last night when we got into a slight, um, skirmish, with, um, another being.”

    “We think it was a metamorph,” said BrTl on a glum note.

    “We saw the bites as you went through Decontam.,” agreed the Thwurbullerian Space Patrol Captain. Still through the visor.

    “And the claw marks,” agreed the IG C&E Inspector.

    There was another short silence: even nastier, if that were possible.

    “Who was it?” demanded the Collector baldly.

    “Well, that’s just it, Collector,” replied BrTl easily. “We don’t know. A dim acquaintance of ours was being held captive, we weren’t sure whether it was just a joke or not, by that mangy Captain Marvel. Don’t know whether you’d have heard of him, sir, he runs a mangy Carnival Extravaganza: you often see him round the place at F-Day celebrations. Um, well, that’s what they say, at any rate,” he added lamely, belatedly remembering the Service history of Lieutenant-Pilot BrJk.

    “That is correct, sir,” admitted the Space Patrol Captain grudgingly.

    “Who was the dim acquaintance?” asked the Collector, unmoved.

    “Sub-Lieutenant dqxH ut paxeR,” said Jhl. “Also seconded to the Belraynian Delegation.”

    “And?” said the Collector to BrTl.

    “Um, when we got there, paxeR was fifteen IG fluh or so in the air, held by the ankle by some sort of machine—the Carnival Extravaganza’s got several. Well, I’m not sure if they’re genuine or not, but— Anyway, this being was there, you see, and he wouldn’t let him go. And at first we thought it was Captain Marvel: he’s a noornithoplasmoid. Only, uh, then it turned itself into a xathpyroid and—uh—we were very evenly matched. And, uh—”

    “Then it immobilised the Lieutenant, we think it was some sort of mind-lock,” said Jhl on a dry note, rather hoping he did pick up the reference to the one he had on the spy-symb, “and appeared to turn itself into a Whtyllian humanoid. So I vaporised it.”

    “No: I vaporised it,” said BrTl hurriedly. “The Captain only shot it—self-defence.”

    “So we don’t know exactly what it was,” said Jhl, “but we did notice that when it was Captain Marvel it had a parasite in its knee.”

    The IG C&E Inspector had raised his visor, though at the same time keeping a respectful distance from the bright pink spidery spy-symb. Now he said in a low voice to the Collector: “It must have transferred itself to this being, sir, as its host died.”

    “That is certainly the logical explanation,” he agreed.

    “So they can?” said BrTl feebly.

    “Well, yes,” conceded the Whtyllian. “You may come with me, Lieutenant-Pilot, and we’ll have a little chat about exactly how much you know about Ybbertullian nboitheroids. –Space Patroller, take Captain Smt Wong through to the anteroom: she can wait with the boy and the Flppus.”

    Jhl was led out. Any suspicion she might have had about having been first not permitted and later permitted to pick up what had become of G’gg and the Flppus was more than confirmed when she got there: there was an impenetrable shield round that anteroom. Who in Federation—or what in Federation—was he? A mere IG M.C. Collector? Well, perhaps he was: BrTl wasn’t the only one that had never met one before in the flesh. But if that was so, and the late Captain Marvel had also been with the IG Minerals Commission, what was the Collector up to, removing the spy-symb from BrTl’s leg? Why didn’t he just leave it there and get it to report back to the IG M.C. every syllable they uttered and every move they made? No, wait! How did the Vvlvanian-cursed things—?

    That was it! Of course! They didn’t send, they absorbed, you had to get them out of the host before you could get any information out of them! …In which case there was no point in trying to lie about what they’d thought Captain Marvel was or who, exactly, had vaporised him, vaporising being, in case any being had—hah, hah—forgotten it, an IG-offence punishable by penal servitude for life in the magma pits of Vvlvania.

    But if it had been her in the Collector’s mammalian footwear, thought Jhl, frowning over it as G’gg and the Flppus rolled hysterically on the fake wtmyrian carpets of the sufficiently luxurious anteroom, she’d have got the spy-symb out quietly, got the information from it, and put it back. Not paraded it in front of them, as if—

    As if the IG Minerals Commission was completely ignorant of Captain Marvel’s machinations, the vast pwld deposits on Old Rthfrdia, the instantaneous transportation stuff, and Shank’yar Vt R’aam’s involvement with any or all of the preceding! Did someone say about ten light-years back that they might have been previous in directing their suspicions to the Full College? Previous and a half!

    The Collector eventually did let BrTl go. And, in fact, let them all proceed on their journey. The ship informed them that it had been probed but they were all able to reply to that one, so had they.

    “Well?” said Jhl, when they were a megazillion glps away from the FW dump.

    Crossly BrTl replied: “It’s no use asking for my opinion, because I feel as if my brain’s going round in circles! Why didn’t they just put that spidery thing back in me? And they can’t possibly be innocent, that was at the very least a real IG M.C. Collector!”

    “Yeah,” she agreed very sourly indeed.

    “I keep thinking it can’t be a coincidence that that IG M.C. being was a Whtyllian and Captain Marvel was a Whtyllian, too!” he added in exasperation.

    Jhl winced. “Logically, it could just be a coincidence, but yeah: me, too. –So who thinks the IG M.C.’s onto us?”

    “Gotta be,” said BrTl instantly. “Them and the Full College, before you ask.”

    “The odds indicate that,” admitted Trff glumly. “One piece of quog in your-its button wouldn’t be sufficient to attract the attention of the IG M.C., Jhl, and there’s nothing to indicate any of us had anything to do with anything remotely related to the pwld.”

    “Uh-huh.” Nothing unless that Collector was reading the lot of them, never mind any claims about Ju’ukrterian shields. Jhl rubbed her nose. “Run this one by you. Possibly the IG M.C. and the Full College aren’t in cahoots, as our paranoid little minds are assuming, but at loggerheads. In which case, as the Full College has got its hooks into Shan, perhaps the IG M.C. is waiting for us to hoik him off Whtyll. Then they move in and grab him.”

    “That’s my best scenario, too,” admitted BrTl uneasily.

    There was a short pause.

    “But why?” cried Jhl in exasperation. “They could just step in and grab Old Rthfrdia and declare it an IG Treasure World!”

    BrTl ground his crunchers. “Okay, let’s forget the whys and just agree we’re on plasmo-blasted dangerous ground!”

    “Mm…” agreed Jhl vaguely. “Trff, wasn’t there some space garbage about the Fleet Commander’s consortium having a licence to mine the pwld muck?”

    “Yes, definitely. But it wasn’t space garbage, the we-it’s verified it. W-M, A.C.,” it reminded them.

    “Ye-ah…,” fumbled BrTl. “Hang on! A licence from the IG Minerals Commission?”

    “Yes, of course, BrTl, it’s the IG M.C. that issues them,” replied Trff calmly.

    “Don’t shout at it!” said Jhl quickly as he opened the maw. “Trff, in terms of standard logic—make that standard Space Fleet logic as taught at Space Fleet Academy—doesn’t it strike you as completely illogical that the IG M.C. would want or need to scour our insignificant selves when they not only already know all about the pwld muck, they’ve issued a licence for it to be mined?”

    “Completely illogical, in terms of standard Space Fleet logic, if the assumption is that they were scouring us about the pwld muck, yes, Captain!” it replied smartly.

    BrTl groaned deeply.

    “Shut up, BrTl,” said Jhl heavily. She stared in front of her, frowning.

    “Um, anything?” he ventured at last.

    Jhl cleared her throat. “Er—well, only this. Your phrase ‘on dangerous ground’ keeps coming back to me, together with the idea of illusion…” Ignoring BrTl’s glare, she elaborated: “You thought you were on dangerous ground when you leapt over that fence and into that magma pit. I picked up the very phrase from you, very shortly before you started drowning on dry land.”

    “So did it,” agreed Trff.

    BrTl took a deep breath. “Literally, I may not have been on dangerous ground. Metaphorically, I WAS! WASN’T I?” he roared.

    When the echoes had ceased trembling Jhl admitted: “All right, we’re on plasmo-blasted dangerous ground. But…”

    “But WHAT?”

    “But nothing definite, so let’s just concentrate on the mission. We know that that Full Surgeon’s up to no good, so getting Shan out of his clutches is the first priority.”

    “The mission,” agreed BrTl. “May I go off duty, Captain? My brain’s very tired.”

    His Captain agreeing, he shambled off to his stall.

    Jhl eyed her Chief Engineer dubiously. It just sat there like a ball of pale green fluff, of course. “Go on, how many?” she said heavily.

    “Forty-seven logical explanations so far, Captain,” it replied politely.

    Yeah. Okay, plasmo-blasted dangerous ground—and watch every step!