Why, I disarm him, bang their heads together, step over their unconscious bodies, and take a seat. You can do it, Friday; you’ve
been trained for it and genetically designed for just that sort of rough stuff.
Then what happens? The landing boat does not leave on time. It waits in its cradle while a squad of eight comes in and by brute force and a tranquilizer dart takes you out of the boat and locks you into cabin BBÄwhere you stay until that officer of the palace guard takes custody of your carcass.
This is not a problem rough stuff can solve.
That leaves sweet talk, sex appeal, and bribery.
Wait! What about honesty?
Huh?
Certainly. Go straight to the Captain. Tell him what Mr. Sikmaa promised you, tell him how you were swindled, get Jerry to show him the pregnancy report, tell him that you are frightened and have decided to wait on Botany Bay until some ship calls that is headed back to Earth, not to The Realm. He’s a sweet, fatherly old dear; you’ve seen pictures of his daughtersÄhe’ll take care of you!
What would Boss’s opinion be of that?
He would note that you sit on the Captain’s rightÄwhy?
You were given one of the ship’s most posh cabins at the last minuteÄwhy?
Space was found for seven others, people who spend all their time watching youÄdo you think the Captain does not know this?
Somebody took your name off the ground-trip list for OutpostÄ who?
Who owns HyperSpace Lines? Thirty percent is owned by Interworld, which in turn is owned or controlled by various segments of the Shipstone group. And you noticed that 11 percent was owned by three banks on The RealmÄyou noticed this because other chunks of Shipstone companies were owned from The Realm.
So don’t expect too much from sweet old Captain van Kooten. You can hear him now: “Oh, I don’t zink so. Mr. Sikmaa is a goot friend of mine; I haf known him for years. Yes, I did promise him zat no chances would be taken wiz your safety; zat’s vy I can’t let you go down to vild, uncivilized planets. But yen ye go back, I show you real, goot time on Halcyon, I promise. Now you yust be a goot girl and not make me any more troublesÄhenh?”
He might even believe it.
He almost certainly knows that you are not “Miss Rich Bitch” and probably has been told that you contracted as a host mother (probably not told that it was for the Royal FamilyÄalthough he may guess it) and he would simply think that you are trying to welch on a legal and equitable contract. Friday, you have not one word in writing that would even tend to indicate that you were swindled.
Don’t expect help from the Captain. Friday, you’re on your own.
It was only three days before our scheduled arrival at Botany Bay that any change took place. I did a lot of pondering but most of it was maunderingÄfutile and time-wasting imaginings about what I would do if I could not manage to jump ship in Botany Bay. Like this: “You heard me, Captain! I’m locking myself in my cabin until we leave The Realm. If you have the door broken down so that you can turn me over to that palace guard officer, I can’t stop youÄbut a dead body is all you’ll find!”
(Ridiculous. Sleepy gas through the air pipes is all it would take to outflank me.)
OrÄ “Captain, have you ever seen a knitting-needle abortion? You are invited to come watch; I understand that one can be quite bloody.”
(Even more ridiculous. I can talk about abortion; I can’t do it. Even though this wart inside me is no kin to me, it is nevertheless my innocent guest.)
I tried not to waste time on such useless thoughts but to concentrate my mind on subversion while continuing to behave normally. When the purser’s office announced that it was time to sign up for excursions on Botany Bay, I was one of the first to show up, going over all the possibilities, asking questions, taking brochures to my cabin, and signing up for and paying cash for all the best and most expensive trips.