Joachim sank into his chair at the table, Crossed his legs, and fumbled for his pipe. By the time he had lit up and was emitting cheerful blue clouds, Traveler Thorkild Helmuth was calling the meeting to order. Thorkild was a tall, gaunt, and stern-faced man, white of hair and beard, stiffly erect
in his carved darkwood seat.
“In the name of Cosmos, rendezvous,” he began formally, Joachim didn ‘ t pay much attention to the ritual that followed,
“All ships except five are now present or accounted for,” concluded Thorkild, “and therefore I call this meeting to discuss facts, determine policy, and make proposals to lay before the voters. Has anyone a matter to present?”
There was, as usual, quite a bit, none of it very important, The Romany wanted a territory extending fifty lightyears about Thossa to be recognized as her own-no other Nomad ship to trade, exploit, build, organize, or otherwise make use of said region without permission of the assignee, This was on grounds of the Romany’s having done most of the explore ation thereabouts. After some discussion, that was granted,
The Adventurer wished to report that the Shan of Baijaz. Kaui on Davenigo, otherwise known as Ettalume IV, had laid a new tax on traders. The planet being known to the Coordination Service, it wasn’t possible for Nomads to overthrow the Shan by violence, but with some help it might be possible to subvert his government and get a friendlier prince. Was anyone interested? Well, the Bedouin might be; they could talk it over later
The Stroller had had more direct difficulties with the Cordys. It seemed the ship had been selling guns to a race who weren’t supposed to be ready for such technology, and Coordination Service bad found out about it. All Nomads had better watch their step for a while.
The Fiddlefoot was going to Spica, where she intended to barter for Solarian products, and wanted to know if anyone cared to buy a share in her enterprise. Goods hauled clear from Sol were expensive.
It went on-proposal, debate, argument, report, ultimate decision. Joachim yawned aid scratched himself. His chance came
finally, and lie flicked a finger upward. “Captain Peregrine Joachim,” acknowledged Thorkild. “Do you speak for your ship?”
“For myself and a few others,” said Joachim, “but my ship will follow me in this. I’ve got a report to make.”
“Proceed.”
Then eyes turned on him, down the length of the Council table.
Joachim began recharging Ms pipe. “This one has been sort of curious for the last few years,” he said, “and he’s been keeping his eyes open. You might think I was a Cordy, the way I’ve been reconstructing the crime. And I think it is a crime, or maybe a war. A quiet but very thorough war.” He paused calculatingly to light his tobacco. “In the past ten years or so, we’ve lost five ships. They never reported back to anyone. What does that mean? It could happen once or twice by sheer accident, but you know bow careful we are I-I-I dealing with the unknown. Five ships is just too many to lose. Especially when we lose them all in the same region.”
“Now hold on, Captain Peregrine,” said Thorkild. “That isn’t so. Those ships disappeared in the direction of Sagittari -but that includes a hell of a lot of space. Their courses wouldn’t have come within many parsecs of each other.”
“No-o-o. Maybe not. Still, the Union covers even more territory than this volume of space where our people vanished.”
“Are you implying-No, that’s ridiculous. Many other ships have been through that region without coming to barm, and they report that it’s completely uncivilized. Such planets as we touched at have been thoroughly backward. Not a mechanical culture-on even one of them.”
“Uh-huh.” Joachim nodded. “Isn’t that an odd fact? In so big a chunk of space, there should be some race which has at least gotten as far as steam engines.”
“Well, we’ve touched on-hm.” Thorkild stroked his
beard.
Romany Ortega Pedro, who had a photographic memory, spoke up. “The volume within which those ships disappeared is, let us say, twenty or thirty million cubic lightyears. It contains perhaps four million suns, of which virtually all are bound to have planets. It’s an unpromising region precisely because it is so backward, and few ships have gone there. To my knowledge, Nomads have stopped at less than a thousand stars in that volume. Now really, Joachim, do you