“Not Terran. Not me. Germanian. But for years now on Irumclaw. My owners want Irumclagian spacehands, they come cheaper. No human language do I hear from end to end of a trip. They can’t pronounce.” Brummelmann kept his little eyes on Persis, who had donned her one gown, and tugged at his own soiled tunic in an effort at getting some wrinkles out. “Lonely, lonely. How nice to find you. First we secure your boat, next we go for drinks in my cabin, right?”
“We’d better have a private talk immediately, sir,” Flandry said. “Our boat—no, let’s wait till we’re alone.”
“You wait. I be alone with the little lady, right? Ho, ho, hoi” Brummelmann swept a paw across her. She shrank back in distaste.
On the way, the captain was stopped by a crew member who had some question. Flandry took the chance to hiss in Persis’ ear: “Don’t offend him. This is fantastic luck.”
“This?” Her nose wrinkled.
“Yes. Think. No matter what happens, none of these xenos’ll give us away. They can’t. All we have to do is stay on the good side of the skipper, and that shouldn’t be hard.”
He had seen pigpens, in historical dramas, better kept up than Brummelmann’s cabin. The Germanian filled three mugs, ignoring coffee stains, with a liquid that sank fangs into stomachs. His got half emptied on the first gulp. “So!” he belched. “We talk. Who sent you to deep space in a gig?”
Persis took the remotest corner. Flandry stayed near Brummelmann, studying him. The man was a failure, a bum, an alcoholic wreck. Doubtless he kept his job because the owners insisted on a human captain and couldn’t get anyone else at the salary they wanted to pay. Didn’t matter greatly, as long as the mate had some competence. For the most part, antiquated though her systems must be, the ship ran herself.
“You are bound for Starkad, aren’t you, sir?” Flandry asked.
“Yes, yes. My company has a Naval contract. Irumclaw is a transshipment point. This trip we carry food and construction equipment. I hope we go on another run soon. Not much pleasure in Highport. But we was to talk about you.”
“I can’t say anything except that I’m on a special mission. It’s vital for me to reach Highport secretly. If Donna d’Io and I can ride down with you, and you haven’t radioed the fact ahead, you’ll have done the Empire a tremendous service.”
“Special mission … with a lady?” Brummelmann dug a blackrimmed thumb into Flandry’s ribs. “I can guess what sort of mission. Ho, ho, ho!”
“I rescued her,” Flandry said patiently. “That’s why we were in a boat. A Merseian attack. The war’s sharpening. I have urgent information for Admiral Enriques.”
Brummelmann’s laughter choked off. Behind the matted whiskers, that reached to his navel, he swallowed. “Attack, you said? But no, the Merseians, they have never bothered civilian ships.”
“Nor should they bother this one, Captain. Not if they don’t know I’m aboard.”
Brummelmann wiped his pate. Probably he thought of himself as being in the high, wild tradition of early spacefaring days. But now his daydreams had orbited. “My owners,” he said weakly. “I have obligation to my owners. I am responsible for their ship.”
“Your first duty is to the Empire.” Flandry considered taking over at blaster point. No; not unless he must; too chancy. “And all you need do is approach Starkad in the usual fashion, make your usual landing at Highport, and let us off. The Merseians will never know, I swear.”
“I—but I—”
Flandry snatched an idea from the air. “As for your owners,” he said, “you can do them a good turn as well. Our boat had better be jettisoned out here. The enemy has her description. But if we take careful note of the spot, and leave her power-plant going for neutrino tracing, you can pick her up on your way home and sell her there. She’s worth as much as this entire ship, I’ll bet.” He winked. “Of course, you’ll inform your owners.”
Brummelmann’s eyes gleamed. “Well. So. Of course.” He tossed off the rest of his drink. “By God, yes! Shake!”
He insisted on shaking hands with Persis also. “Ugh,” she said to Flandry when they were alone, in an emptied locker where a mattress had been laid. She had refused the captain’s offer of his quarters. “How long to Starkad?”