“Do you really think that’s what we’ve got?” Rael asked in awe.
“There’s a very strong possibility of it. Doctor, judging by surface appearances at any rate. Neither this sheen nor this color has been around for a very long time.”
“What if they aren’t as old as we think or aren’t from one of the famous Terran mines?” Thorson asked, trying to keep his head in the face of his superiors’ enthusiasm.
They had seen what seemed like real prizes turn sour before, and he did not want to work himself into the same pitch over what could be nothing more than an extremely costly shot at the next galaxy. A trip to Hedon of Eros was an expensive proposition, and they had nothing else whatsoever that they could hope to trade there. “They’re not even very big.”
“About a carat each for ours. The Doctor’s is half that weight again. That’s not bad for a major gemstone. They’re also dead matches for one another both in color and cut, and the Queen’s two for size as well. That means we can bill them as a suite. No, provided they’re natural, we have ourselves a treasure, whatever their age or source. — Assuming they’re not hot, of course.” Rael had been careful to secure documentation of the sale, but they would still get no profit in that event and would be out the cost of the voyage as well.
Dane nodded, inwardly hoping that their “treasure” would at least prove of sufficient resale value to match the efforts they would have to expend to establish its authenticity and then dispose of it.
The answer to that lay in the future, but there were other mysteries still to be resolved. He turned his attention to the woman. “How did you spot them, Rael? For that matter, how’d you know the rest were synthetics?”
“Oh, by the color. Manufactured stones are subtly different from their natural counterparts. Usually, they’re more intense than real ones, and the shade or tone’s at least a wee bit off.” She forestalled his next question. “How these came to be in those sets, I couldn’t begin to say. They’ve probably been knocking around for a long time, moving from place to place with no one suspecting their true nature. All the gems in these two lots look like they were previously mounted. They were probably part of a large, low-value shipment gathered from all over the ultrasystem and split up into sets for resale at marginal profit.”
“That’s more or less what I figure, too,” the Cargo-Master agreed.
There was a strange note in his tone, and she looked up to find him studying her intently. “What’s wrong?” she asked in surprise.
“I hesitate to use the word preternatural. Doctor. It’s too melodramatic coming from anyone but Craig Tau. However, the stones on that stand were not the work of amateurs, The fact that they were synthetic would not have been instantly apparent to most of us, myself included, and I’m not precisely a novice at buying and selling such items.
Add to that the fact that absolutely no one else I’ve ever known could possibly have smelled out that rats’ nest and it rather makes me wonder about you.”
“That’s only because you’re judging by purely Terran standards,” she told him calmly. “When I introduced myself as Teague Cofort’s sister, I should have been more specific. We’re actually half-siblings. Our mothers were different. Very different. In point of fact, I’m a genetic impossibility.”
Her chin lifted. “I don’t know Mother’s race or homeworld. My father just returned to the ship with her one day after a short absence on some planet neither they nor his crew would ever name. She definitely was not of Terran blood, not human at all, although she was very beautiful by human standards. There were some significant physiological and genetic differences, incompatibilities. Marriage was possible between them. Conception should not have been and certainly not a viable birth. That notwithstanding, I was conceived, born, and have managed to thrive.
“Like most intelligent beings, I have my own set of gifts and talents. Most seem to have come from my father, some from Mother, but none are of a nature to set me apart from the better part of the Federation’s citizens. Whatever strengths I might have came by the time-honored means of determined effort and practice. If I hadn’t been reared in an environment like space where the lack of other distractions does wonders for the ability to concentrate on a long course of study or training, I doubt I’d have achieved much with them at all, and even with that push, I’m a far voyage from being some sort of ultrawoman.
“Admittedly, my senses are pretty acute, but there’s nothing super-anything about them.
“I do have a good feel for color and can differentiate between shades quite finely, but I learned that from our former Cargo-Master, Mara’s predecessor. Other than that, my vision’s not remarkable. — No pin spotting at ten miles or peering through titanone plates.
“It’s much the same with hearing. My sense of smell is keen, which is usually more disadvantage than blessing. I have trained myself to separate and identify different odors even when they’re components in a melody. That’s a bit uncommon, I suppose, but don’t imagine I can perform like a tracking or hunting animal, or you’re in for a major disappointment.
“Sensitivity to aroma and refined sense of taste go together. You can be sure that I appreciate Mr. Mura’s fine hand with his seasonings and that I don’t let many chances for a good feed of real food pass me by when they crop up.”
The expression of each of her companions brightened into a grin. That, at least, was typical of their kind. When a space hound hit the surface of a basically Terran-type planet and had some free time, it was almost inevitably to an eating place that he first hurried rather than to the local version of a Happy City.
Rael did not smile. “The last sense I have is touch, and that’s not terribly extraordinary, though I’ll admit to preferring the feel of that Thornen silk to that of our uniforms.
“There’s nothing else,” she continued firmly and a little wearily, “no sixth-plus powers. I don’t read minds or see past or future or move solid objects by will alone.”
“What about conversing with animals?” Miceal asked quickly.
“No,” she said firmly. “I wish I could. They’re often a galaxy nicer than our own kind. They like me because they know how much I like them. Maybe it’s a little unusual,” she conceded, “but it’s nothing more than that. Plants, too, grow for me as they do for other gardeners who understand their ways and enjoy working with them. There’s no particular magic in it.”
The Captain gave a slight shake of his head. “No go, Cofort. A lot of people like animals, but none of them affects Queex the way you do.”
Her eyes hardened, and a sharp edge turned her voice into a whip. “A lot of people love animals and take tri-dees of them, too, but they don’t often get results like you’ve got tacked up on your office wall. Do you use some sort of compulsion to force your subjects to appear and then pose and freeze in place for you?”
Jellico flushed so that the scar stood out white on his cheek, but he said nothing. The rebuke had been neatly delivered. It was not an overreaction, either. Had the Medic been a real member of the crew, it might have been different. There would have been strong bonds of trust and confidence between them then, though his right to pry would have been no greater. As it was, any admission of esper abilities could prove highly dangerous for Rael Cofort.
Van Rycke cleared his throat. “I suppose I can consider myself answered,” he said to break the uncomfortable silence that followed. “Well, whatever the extent of your talents, Doctor, we’ve got reason to be grateful to them. They’ve done good work all along and have topped it off by locating a potentially very nice prize for us.”
The Medic inclined her head in formal acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr. Van Rycke.”
“We seem to be finished here,” he said. “The day’s Still young, and there’s a good part of the market still left unexplored. — Thorson, you’d best stay here and classify our new acquisitions. Log it all in and stow everything.”
“Aye,” Dane responded cheerfully. He had been anticipating that.
“Doctor Cofort may be able to give you a hand later,” Jellico suggested.
He glanced at the woman. “Write up a report about these rubies now, while the details’re fresh in your memory.
Describe the purchase in full and put down all our surmises, clearly labeled as such. Just in case those stones should prove to be hot, I want as much documentation on hand as possible to attest to our innocence.”