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Authors: The Plot Against Earth
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mostly in Skorg, with a
scattering of Morilaru and Arenaddin volumes, and a recreation room designed to
serve the recreational needs of several different species.
He
ate that evening in the unrestricted dining room, since he had no entry into the Skorg room nor much desire to enter it;
the bulk of his companions in the room were Morilaru, though he noted a few
Arenaddin and even another Earthman. Catton resolved to introduce himself to
the Earthman after the meal.
The
food was Skorg food, mostly yellow vegetables and stringy lean meat—probably it
was superbly prepared, but the raw materials were nothing much. The main dish
was preceded by a cocktail which tasted astonishingly like a Terran martini, though Catton knew the Terran liquor industry had not
yet established trade channels through to Skorg. During the meal Skorg wine was
served—a bitter but palatable green liquid.
Catton
encountered the other Earthman in the lounge after the meal. It was more of a
simultaneous coinciding of orbit than a one-sided pursuit; the other Earthman,
it seemed, had been anxious to meet Catton, too.
"My
name is Royce, H. Byron Royce. I don't suppose you remember me, Mr.
Catton."
Carton didn't. The Earthman was in his
sixties, tall and weatherbeaten, with blunt, open features and faded pale-blue
eyes. He was dressed conventionally in a Terran business suit. Catton had no
idea who H. Byron Royce might be, but he hazarded a guess. "You were at
that reception given for me at the Embassy in Dyelleran, weren't you?"
Royce
smiled. "That's right. We exchanged a couple of words then, if you
remember—"
"I'm afraid III need my memory
refreshed," Catton confessed. "There were so many strange faces that
night, you realize—"
"Sure,
I know how it is. A hundred people come up and shake your hand, you can't remember all of 'em. Well, I'm Byron Royce of Royce Brothers, Terra.
Does that ring any bells now?"
Carton nodded. Royce Brothers was an enterprising
export firm; through holding companies, it controlled most of Terran trade
over a span of fifty light-years out from Earth, and now, no doubt, was looking
to extend its sway to Morilar, Skorg, and Arenadd. Catton realized he was
talking to a billionaire. It was a slighdy unsettling thought.
"Bound for Skorg on diplomatic business,
Mr. Catton?"
"Yes,"
Catton said. "I'm not at liberty to reveal anything, of course."
"Wouldn't think of prying," Royce
said cheerily. "Naturally, if there's anything involved that might
possibly have an effect on Royce Brothers, I'd gready appreciate a leetie hint,
but-"
"I'm
afraid it's a matter of considerable secrecy," Catton said, perhaps a bit
too brusquely. "But I can tell you that it's of no commercial interest to
you."
Royce
took the hint and changed the subject immediately. "Too bad about the
Ambassador's daughter, wasn't it? Pretty little girl like
that running away to nowhere. You think they're going to find her, Mr.
Catton?"
Catton
shrugged. "It's unlikely, unless she wants to be found. The galaxy's too
big for an efficient search to be carried on."
"Funny, that note she
left."
"Oh, you heard about
it?"
"The
Ambassador himself told me, with tears in his eyes. Ran away with the man she
loved. He didn't have any idea who that might be. Damned if they didn't run a
checkup on every Earthman who'd been on Morilar in the past six months, and
there wasn't one of them missing."
"So
there's no notion whom she ran off with, eh?"
Catton asked.
"Not
a touch. Mr. Seeman half figured she'd made the whole part up, about her lover.
But he couldn't understand why she'd want to run away."
A
Skorg steward passed, carrying a tray of drinks. He paused in front of Catton
and Royce and inquired in Morilaru if they were interested. Catton helped
himself to a highball which tasted vaguely peppery; Royce, protesting that he
never drank, declined the tray.
Catton
sipped his drink. The lounge was crowded; there were life-forms of a dozen
kinds in it, including, Catton
scattering of Morilaru and Arenaddin volumes, and a recreation room designed to
serve the recreational needs of several different species.
He
ate that evening in the unrestricted dining room, since he had no entry into the Skorg room nor much desire to enter it;
the bulk of his companions in the room were Morilaru, though he noted a few
Arenaddin and even another Earthman. Catton resolved to introduce himself to
the Earthman after the meal.
The
food was Skorg food, mostly yellow vegetables and stringy lean meat—probably it
was superbly prepared, but the raw materials were nothing much. The main dish
was preceded by a cocktail which tasted astonishingly like a Terran martini, though Catton knew the Terran liquor industry had not
yet established trade channels through to Skorg. During the meal Skorg wine was
served—a bitter but palatable green liquid.
Catton
encountered the other Earthman in the lounge after the meal. It was more of a
simultaneous coinciding of orbit than a one-sided pursuit; the other Earthman,
it seemed, had been anxious to meet Catton, too.
"My
name is Royce, H. Byron Royce. I don't suppose you remember me, Mr.
Catton."
Carton didn't. The Earthman was in his
sixties, tall and weatherbeaten, with blunt, open features and faded pale-blue
eyes. He was dressed conventionally in a Terran business suit. Catton had no
idea who H. Byron Royce might be, but he hazarded a guess. "You were at
that reception given for me at the Embassy in Dyelleran, weren't you?"
Royce
smiled. "That's right. We exchanged a couple of words then, if you
remember—"
"I'm afraid III need my memory
refreshed," Catton confessed. "There were so many strange faces that
night, you realize—"
"Sure,
I know how it is. A hundred people come up and shake your hand, you can't remember all of 'em. Well, I'm Byron Royce of Royce Brothers, Terra.
Does that ring any bells now?"
Carton nodded. Royce Brothers was an enterprising
export firm; through holding companies, it controlled most of Terran trade
over a span of fifty light-years out from Earth, and now, no doubt, was looking
to extend its sway to Morilar, Skorg, and Arenadd. Catton realized he was
talking to a billionaire. It was a slighdy unsettling thought.
"Bound for Skorg on diplomatic business,
Mr. Catton?"
"Yes,"
Catton said. "I'm not at liberty to reveal anything, of course."
"Wouldn't think of prying," Royce
said cheerily. "Naturally, if there's anything involved that might
possibly have an effect on Royce Brothers, I'd gready appreciate a leetie hint,
but-"
"I'm
afraid it's a matter of considerable secrecy," Catton said, perhaps a bit
too brusquely. "But I can tell you that it's of no commercial interest to
you."
Royce
took the hint and changed the subject immediately. "Too bad about the
Ambassador's daughter, wasn't it? Pretty little girl like
that running away to nowhere. You think they're going to find her, Mr.
Catton?"
Catton
shrugged. "It's unlikely, unless she wants to be found. The galaxy's too
big for an efficient search to be carried on."
"Funny, that note she
left."
"Oh, you heard about
it?"
"The
Ambassador himself told me, with tears in his eyes. Ran away with the man she
loved. He didn't have any idea who that might be. Damned if they didn't run a
checkup on every Earthman who'd been on Morilar in the past six months, and
there wasn't one of them missing."
"So
there's no notion whom she ran off with, eh?"
Catton asked.
"Not
a touch. Mr. Seeman half figured she'd made the whole part up, about her lover.
But he couldn't understand why she'd want to run away."
A
Skorg steward passed, carrying a tray of drinks. He paused in front of Catton
and Royce and inquired in Morilaru if they were interested. Catton helped
himself to a highball which tasted vaguely peppery; Royce, protesting that he
never drank, declined the tray.
Catton
sipped his drink. The lounge was crowded; there were life-forms of a dozen
kinds in it, including, Catton
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