series of clicks and whistles.
"Patience, Kallik." The skinny Lo'tfian switched to human speech as he turned to the sales manager. He held out a bank chit. "Greetings. I am J'merlia, and this is Kallik. We are here to buy a ship."
So at least one of them could talk human. And he had credit. That was a surprise. The manager's first reaction— don't waste five seconds on these two —was overridden by long training. She took the chit that the Lo'tfian was holding out to her and performed an automatic check on it.
She sniffed.
Two dozen eyes blinked at her. "Are we in luck?" the Hymenopt asked.
So they could both speak.
"You're lucky in at least one way. The choice won't be too difficult. You won't have to worry about ninety-nine percent of our inventory."
"Why not?" Kallik's circular ring of black eyes was taking in the holograms of a dozen ships at once.
"Because you don't have enough credit to buy them. For instance, you can't have any of the ones that you're looking at right now. Can you give me a summary of your requirements?"
"Range," J'merlia said. "Weapons. Enough accommodation for us and at least four humans, but also plenty of interior cargo space."
"What kind of cargo?"
"Living cargo. We might need room to carry a group of Zardalu."
"I see." The manager gave him a tight-lipped smile. Zardalu. Why not say dinosaurs and have done with it? If a customer did not want to admit what they would be carrying in the ship—and many didn't—it was better to say so outright. She didn't care what the ships were used for after they were sold, but she hated it when people tried to play games with her.
Well, she had her own games.
"All right, now I know what you need we can look at a few. How about this? It's in your price range."
The vessel she called onto the 3-D display was a stunted blue cylinder with three stalklike landing braces. It had a drunken and lopsided look, as though it was hung over after some major party. "Lots of power. Great on-board computer—Karlan emotional circuits and all. What do you think?"
She could not read the expressions of the aliens, but their chitters and whistles sounded subdued.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of an emotional on-board computer," J'merlia said at last. "How big is it inside?"
"Ah. Good point. You could fit half-a-dozen people in easily enough, but it's low on cargo space. It wouldn't do for you. But this one"—she switched the display—"has all the interior space you'll ever need. And power to spare."
The vessel that appeared on the screen was mostly open space, like a widespread bunch of rotting grapes loosely connected to each other by frayed lengths of string.
"Of course, it only looks saggy like this when the drive is off and it's docked," the manager added after a long silence. "When it's in flight there's electromagnetic coupling of the components, and it all tightens up."
"Weapons?" Kallik asked feebly.
"Weapons!" The manager snapped her fingers. "Good point. That's this ship's one weak spot. It has weapons, but they're in a self-contained pod, so you have to switch the drive right off before you can get to them and activate them. Not too convenient.
"All right, let me try again. I know I've got just what you need, I just have to find it. Interior space, good power and range, good weapons system . . ." She bent for a few seconds over her catalog, entering search parameters. "I knew it!" She looked up, smiling. "I'm a dummy. I forgot all about the Erebus . A supership! Just what you want! Look at this!"
She threw the hologram of a vast, black-hulled craft onto the 3-D display. Its exterior was a rough ovoid, the dark outer surface disfigured by gleaming studs and warts and irregular cavities.
"More than big enough, power to spare—and see those weapons systems!"
"How big is it?" J'merlia asked.
"The Erebus is four hundred meters long, three hundred and twenty wide. There's accommodation for hundreds of
"Patience, Kallik." The skinny Lo'tfian switched to human speech as he turned to the sales manager. He held out a bank chit. "Greetings. I am J'merlia, and this is Kallik. We are here to buy a ship."
So at least one of them could talk human. And he had credit. That was a surprise. The manager's first reaction— don't waste five seconds on these two —was overridden by long training. She took the chit that the Lo'tfian was holding out to her and performed an automatic check on it.
She sniffed.
Two dozen eyes blinked at her. "Are we in luck?" the Hymenopt asked.
So they could both speak.
"You're lucky in at least one way. The choice won't be too difficult. You won't have to worry about ninety-nine percent of our inventory."
"Why not?" Kallik's circular ring of black eyes was taking in the holograms of a dozen ships at once.
"Because you don't have enough credit to buy them. For instance, you can't have any of the ones that you're looking at right now. Can you give me a summary of your requirements?"
"Range," J'merlia said. "Weapons. Enough accommodation for us and at least four humans, but also plenty of interior cargo space."
"What kind of cargo?"
"Living cargo. We might need room to carry a group of Zardalu."
"I see." The manager gave him a tight-lipped smile. Zardalu. Why not say dinosaurs and have done with it? If a customer did not want to admit what they would be carrying in the ship—and many didn't—it was better to say so outright. She didn't care what the ships were used for after they were sold, but she hated it when people tried to play games with her.
Well, she had her own games.
"All right, now I know what you need we can look at a few. How about this? It's in your price range."
The vessel she called onto the 3-D display was a stunted blue cylinder with three stalklike landing braces. It had a drunken and lopsided look, as though it was hung over after some major party. "Lots of power. Great on-board computer—Karlan emotional circuits and all. What do you think?"
She could not read the expressions of the aliens, but their chitters and whistles sounded subdued.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of an emotional on-board computer," J'merlia said at last. "How big is it inside?"
"Ah. Good point. You could fit half-a-dozen people in easily enough, but it's low on cargo space. It wouldn't do for you. But this one"—she switched the display—"has all the interior space you'll ever need. And power to spare."
The vessel that appeared on the screen was mostly open space, like a widespread bunch of rotting grapes loosely connected to each other by frayed lengths of string.
"Of course, it only looks saggy like this when the drive is off and it's docked," the manager added after a long silence. "When it's in flight there's electromagnetic coupling of the components, and it all tightens up."
"Weapons?" Kallik asked feebly.
"Weapons!" The manager snapped her fingers. "Good point. That's this ship's one weak spot. It has weapons, but they're in a self-contained pod, so you have to switch the drive right off before you can get to them and activate them. Not too convenient.
"All right, let me try again. I know I've got just what you need, I just have to find it. Interior space, good power and range, good weapons system . . ." She bent for a few seconds over her catalog, entering search parameters. "I knew it!" She looked up, smiling. "I'm a dummy. I forgot all about the Erebus . A supership! Just what you want! Look at this!"
She threw the hologram of a vast, black-hulled craft onto the 3-D display. Its exterior was a rough ovoid, the dark outer surface disfigured by gleaming studs and warts and irregular cavities.
"More than big enough, power to spare—and see those weapons systems!"
"How big is it?" J'merlia asked.
"The Erebus is four hundred meters long, three hundred and twenty wide. There's accommodation for hundreds of
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