like a waste of talent. But it got you to Irumclaw, and I did notice you
and had you studied. I learned more than stands on any public record,
boy. The whole Starkad business pivoted on you.”
Shocked, Flandry wondered how deeply the rot had eaten, if the agent of
a medium-scale vice boss on a tenth-rate frontier planet could obtain
such information.
“Well, your tour’ll soon be up,” Ammon said. “Precious little to show
for it, right? Right. How’d you like to turn a profit before you leave?
A mighty nice profit, I promise you.” He rubbed his hands. “Mighty
nice.”
“Depends,” Flandry said. If he’d been investigated as thoroughly as it
appeared, there was no use in pretending he had private financial
resources, or that he didn’t require them if he was to advance his
career as far as he hoped. “The Imperium has my oath.”
“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything against His Majesty. I’m
a citizen myself, right? No, I’ll tell you exactly what I want done, if
you’ll keep it confidential.”
“It’d doubtless not do me any good to blab, the way you’ll tell me.”
Ammon giggled. “Right! Right! You’re a sharp one, Dominic. Handsome,
too,” he added exploringly.
“I’ll settle for the sharpness now and buy the handsomeness later,”
Flandry said. As a matter of fact, while he enjoyed being gray-eyed, he
considered his face unduly long and thin, and planned to get it
remodeled when he could afford the best.
Ammon sighed and returned to business. “All I want is for you to survey
a planet for me. You can do it on your next scouting trip. Report back,
privately, of course, and it’s worth a flat million, in small bills or
whatever shape you prefer.” He reached into his desk and extracted a
packet. “If you take the job, here’s a hundred thousand on account.” A
million! Ye gods and demons! Flandry fought to keep his mask. No
enormous fortune, really. But enough for that necessary
nest-feathering–the special equipment, the social contacts–no more
wretched budgeting of my pleasure on furlough–A distant part of him
noted with approval how cool his tone stayed. “I have to carry out my
assignment.”
“I know, I know. I’m not asking you to skimp it. I told you I’m a loyal
citizen. But if you jogged off your track awhile–it shouldn’t cost more
than a couple of weeks extra–”
“Cost me my scalp if anyone found out,” Flandry said.
Ammon nodded. “That’s how I’ll know I can trust you to keep quiet. And
you’ll trust me, because suborning an Imperial officer is a capital
offense–anyhow, it usually is when it involves a matter like this,
that’s not going to get mentioned to the authorities or the tax
assessors.”
“Why not send your personal vessel to look?”
Ammon laid aside his mannerisms. “I haven’t got one. If I hired a
civilian, what hold would I have on him? Especially an Old Town type.
I’d likely end up with an extra mouth in my throat, once the word got
around what’s to be had out there. Let’s admit it, even on this
miserable crudball I’m not so big.”
He leaned forward. “I want to become big,” he said. It smoldered in eyes
and voice; he shook with the intensity of it. “Once I know, from you,
that the thing’s worthwhile, I’ll sink everything I own and can borrow
into building up a reliable outfit. We’ll work secretly for the first
several years, sell through complicated channels, sock away the profits.
Then maybe I’ll surface, doctor the story, start paying taxes, move to
Terra–maybe buy my way to a patent of nobility, maybe go into politics,
I don’t know, but I’ll be big. Do you understand?”
Far too well, Flandry thought.
Ammon dabbed at his glistening forehead. “It wouldn’t hurt you, having a
big friend,” he said. “Right?”
Associate, please, Flandry thought. Perhaps that, if I must. Never
friend.
Aloud: “I suppose I could cook my log, record how trouble with the boat
caused delay. She’s fast but superannuated, and inspections are
lackadaisical. But you haven’t yet told me, sir, what the bloody
dripping hell this is all about.”