“They are literally too many to count, Mr. Erickson.” Tambu sighed wearily. “At times it seems all I’ve encountered were difficulties. Sometimes I wonder whether I would have started this project originally if I could have looked into the future and seen the difficulties involved… if I had known then what 1 know now.”
“Once you made that decision, how soon did you begin encountering difficulties?”
“Almost immediately. Things one takes for granted suddenly become obstacles when confronted by them directly. For example, there was the basic task of outfitting our ship for combat…”
CHAPTER TWO
“I don’t like it, Dwight,” Whitey cast a dark glance around the gloomy bar.
“It’s Tambu. Remember?” He took a leisurely sip from the glass in front of him.
“I don’t care if you call yourself the Queen of May,” Whitey snapped. “I still don’t like it.”
The bar was a typical dive, indistinguishable from hundreds of its fellows which cluttered the streets around any spaceport. Its clientele was composed mainly of crewmen on leave and ground crews, with a few drab locals holding court at the grimy tables along the walls. A tired-looking whore was perched at the bar conversing with the bartender, her drooping breasts threatening to slip free of her low neckline when she laughed.
“I admit it’s not what you’d call a class place,” Tambu conceded. “But we’re not here to deal with genteel folk.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Whitey scowled. “I’ve been in worse places.”
“Are you still worried about Puck? I don’t like it either. Leaving a one-man watch on board ship is asking for trouble, but there wasn’t any other way. All three of us had to be here for this deal: you for the technical expertise, me for the negotiating, and Egor for protection. It’s dangerous, but it’s the only way we could handle it.”