agent handed Lando a notarized permadoc. It was a surety bond in the amount of 700,000 Imperials. If Lando delivered an unspecified cargo and The Chosen were unable to pay, Troon would make it good.
Lando looked at the cyborg's face and wondered what went on behind the smiling plastic. Why was Troon willing to risk 700,000 Imperials of his own money on The Chosen? He wasn't a member himself. The blaster proved that. So why?
Judging from the expression on Wendy's face, she was wondering the same thing. Sensing their unasked questions, Troon shrugged. "It's good for business. I'll get a percentage of everything that goes off-planet if the colony succeeds."
Troon was smooth, and quick enough to be credible, but Lando didn't believe it. The colony wasn't even self-sufficient. A percentage of nothing is nothing. But, so what? The cyborg's motives were none of his business. Lando stood and held out his hand. "Doctor, you've got a deal. Weller's World to Angel orbit. When do we lift?"
Wendy shook the smuggler's hand, careful to withdraw this time. "Say 0900 tomorrow?"
Lando nodded and held out his hand to Troon. The cyborg's hand was cool but firm. "Thanks, Jonathan. I enjoyed meeting you."
"Likewise," the cyborg replied warmly. "The concentrate has been paid for. Wendy has the necessary documents. Please give your father my best."
Lando smiled. "I certainly will. Jonathan, good night, and Wendy, I'll see you in the morning."
Wendy watched the smuggler wind his way towards the main entrance, then turned her attention to Troon. The cyborg was retrieving a credit card from a slot in the tabletop. "Well, he seems trustworthy."
The cyborg nodded. "Yes, unusually so. A man of honor in his own way. Come… I'll take you home."
Wendy shook her head. "No, Jonathan, you've been far too kind already. I'll catch an autocab."
"As you wish," Troon replied. "But I'll see you to the cab."
A single eye followed the two of them out of the bar. The other one had been destroyed on a planet half an empire away, and replaced with an electro-implant. The woman looked better now. Healthier, stronger, and very well-dressed. So well-dressed that Wendy would not have recognized her.
The woman said something to one of her male companions, and the three of them headed towards the rear of the bar.
It took three minutes for Troon and Wendy to make their way outside the bar and hail an autocab. It whirred to the curb and Wendy got in. She waved through the open window. "Take care, Jonathan. And thanks."
Troon waved in reply and watched until the autocab had passed from sight. He liked Wendy and hoped that she would have a safe trip.
Turning, the cyborg walked around the side of the bar and towards the parking lot. He felt the cool night air flow over his plastic skin. Row after row of vehicles gleamed under the widely spaced lights. Troon made his way down the second row and approached his ground car. He'd just pulled the electro-key from his pocket, when something hard poked him in the side.
"Hold it, borg… put your hands on top of your head." The voice was male and sounded mean. Troon did as he was told. A hand reached to grab his blaster.
"What the hell?" It was another male voice this time, deeper, and sort of hoarse. "Look at this… the blaster's a fake… a goddamned toy!"
Troon felt an emptiness where his stomach should be. For more than twenty years the bluff had worked. The cyborg prepared himself.
A woman stepped into the space between Troon and his car. She was nicely dressed and had one good eye. The other was an implant and glittered with reflected light. "How cute! A toy blaster. You know what I think, borg? I think you're one of them. I think you're an arrogant, self-important, religious zealot."
Troon remained silent.
Hard shadows played across the woman's face. "I want the Wendeen woman. Where is she?"
Troon said nothing.
The woman nodded. "Have it your way. Okay, boys, make him hurt."
The blows came hard and fast, some
Lando looked at the cyborg's face and wondered what went on behind the smiling plastic. Why was Troon willing to risk 700,000 Imperials of his own money on The Chosen? He wasn't a member himself. The blaster proved that. So why?
Judging from the expression on Wendy's face, she was wondering the same thing. Sensing their unasked questions, Troon shrugged. "It's good for business. I'll get a percentage of everything that goes off-planet if the colony succeeds."
Troon was smooth, and quick enough to be credible, but Lando didn't believe it. The colony wasn't even self-sufficient. A percentage of nothing is nothing. But, so what? The cyborg's motives were none of his business. Lando stood and held out his hand. "Doctor, you've got a deal. Weller's World to Angel orbit. When do we lift?"
Wendy shook the smuggler's hand, careful to withdraw this time. "Say 0900 tomorrow?"
Lando nodded and held out his hand to Troon. The cyborg's hand was cool but firm. "Thanks, Jonathan. I enjoyed meeting you."
"Likewise," the cyborg replied warmly. "The concentrate has been paid for. Wendy has the necessary documents. Please give your father my best."
Lando smiled. "I certainly will. Jonathan, good night, and Wendy, I'll see you in the morning."
Wendy watched the smuggler wind his way towards the main entrance, then turned her attention to Troon. The cyborg was retrieving a credit card from a slot in the tabletop. "Well, he seems trustworthy."
The cyborg nodded. "Yes, unusually so. A man of honor in his own way. Come… I'll take you home."
Wendy shook her head. "No, Jonathan, you've been far too kind already. I'll catch an autocab."
"As you wish," Troon replied. "But I'll see you to the cab."
A single eye followed the two of them out of the bar. The other one had been destroyed on a planet half an empire away, and replaced with an electro-implant. The woman looked better now. Healthier, stronger, and very well-dressed. So well-dressed that Wendy would not have recognized her.
The woman said something to one of her male companions, and the three of them headed towards the rear of the bar.
It took three minutes for Troon and Wendy to make their way outside the bar and hail an autocab. It whirred to the curb and Wendy got in. She waved through the open window. "Take care, Jonathan. And thanks."
Troon waved in reply and watched until the autocab had passed from sight. He liked Wendy and hoped that she would have a safe trip.
Turning, the cyborg walked around the side of the bar and towards the parking lot. He felt the cool night air flow over his plastic skin. Row after row of vehicles gleamed under the widely spaced lights. Troon made his way down the second row and approached his ground car. He'd just pulled the electro-key from his pocket, when something hard poked him in the side.
"Hold it, borg… put your hands on top of your head." The voice was male and sounded mean. Troon did as he was told. A hand reached to grab his blaster.
"What the hell?" It was another male voice this time, deeper, and sort of hoarse. "Look at this… the blaster's a fake… a goddamned toy!"
Troon felt an emptiness where his stomach should be. For more than twenty years the bluff had worked. The cyborg prepared himself.
A woman stepped into the space between Troon and his car. She was nicely dressed and had one good eye. The other was an implant and glittered with reflected light. "How cute! A toy blaster. You know what I think, borg? I think you're one of them. I think you're an arrogant, self-important, religious zealot."
Troon remained silent.
Hard shadows played across the woman's face. "I want the Wendeen woman. Where is she?"
Troon said nothing.
The woman nodded. "Have it your way. Okay, boys, make him hurt."
The blows came hard and fast, some
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