How Much for Just the Planet? by Ford John M

Author:Ford, John M. [Ford, John M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 1986-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

On one long brass note, the dancers carried the queen out of the chamber. Just at the door, they paused; she pointed, said, “Heck, I almost forgot— away with them!”

Chapter Seven

Afternoon Matinee

Direidi’s sun was just splitting the noon meridian, and the hotel restaurant was growing dim. Montgomery Scott finished off his platter of roast beef sandwiches, burped lightly, and started to walk out of the restaurant, pleased with life and the universe.

There was a small and plaintive sound from a table near the door. Ensign Pavel Chekov sat there, looking disconsolately at a plate of half-eaten blintzes and a large glass of soda water.

“That’s what you get for pepperin’ your vodka, lad,” Scott said, not too unkindly.

“Mr. Scott,” Chekov said in a thin voice, “do you believe in ghosts?”

Scott examined Chekov’s face. The ensign seemed in dreadful earnest. “Well, Mr. Chekov, a man sees quite a few strange things in space, but I daresay no, I don’t believe in that particular item.”

“Let me be more particular, sir … sometime during the last night, when it was werry, werry dark, did a ghost knock on your door and ask you to boldly go where no man had gone before?”

“That’d be a definite ‘no,’ Ensign.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Come along, lad,” Scott said, “and we’ll find a little hair of the dog that bit you.”

“I think the dog is still attached,” Chekov said, pushed away his blintzes, and followed Scott into the hotel lobby.

There were two Klingons, dressed casually, coming the other way. “A moment of your time, Humans,” one of them said.

Chekov chewed his lip, looked around nervously. Scott said genially, “A moment we’ve got, gentlemen.”

“I am Maglus, security officer of Fire Blossom. This is Ensign Korth.”

“Montgomery Scott, chief engineer of Enterprise. Pleased to meet you.”

“Pavel Chekov, ensign. I am pleased also.”

They turned. The desk clerk had his eyes closed to slits and his fingers in his ears. He waited a moment, then relaxed and went back to sorting mail.

“Do you drink?” Maglus said, pointing toward the lobby bar. “We seek someone to drink with.”

“Now, that’s a splendid idea,” Scott said. “After you, gentlemen.”

The bar was quiet and dim, with heavy wooden furniture and high, narrow draped windows. No one was there except for a bartender in shirt and red vest, energetically polishing glasses. The four ordered drinks and sat down in the big plush chairs.

They talked for a quarter of an hour or so about space, ports of call, the inadequacy of fleet pay, the usual things. Then, in a slightly lower tone, Maglus said, “Is there much for an engineer to do on Federation ships?”

“Enough,” Scott said equably. “Is there a lot for a security chief to do on one of the Empire’s vessels?”

“I keep order on my ship,” Maglus said. “That is an important job.”

Korth suddenly took on a pinched expression.

“’Tis if your crew gets out of line,” Scott said offhandedly. “Do they do that, then?”

“None more than once.”

“Must keep you busy. Breakin’ in replacements.”

Chekov said softly but urgently, “Mr.

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