Pay Me, Bug!

Chapter 28

WHEREIN an Unexpected Detour Requires Frenetic Adaptation

Varkav was an ugly planet.

The planet was, geologically speaking, very young. Plate tectonics had not yet separated the single land mass into multiple continents, but when it eventually did no one was certain exactly where those continents would go. There was only one ocean, and the pangea-like land mass covered so much of the planet that there was a debate in some circles as to whether it actually qualified as an ocean, or if it was a vastly oversized sea. The concentration of land gave the planet, in Grif's eyes, a misshapen and unbalanced appearance, as though it were teetering in space, liable to tip over at any point. The continent was riddled with muddy rivers and brackish lakes, giving it the appearance of being covered in blemishes and cobwebs. The final indignity, Grif decided, was that some particulate in the atmosphere filtered out bits of the spectrum of light, giving everything on it a drab, brownish tint.

"Ugly, ugly, planet," Grif said. "Best whiskey anywhere."

"Amen," Amys agreed.

Amys had just guided the Fool's Errand into a long-range orbit around the planet. It would be a long-range orbit until the Radiant Throne permitted them to descend into a standard orbit, and then--hopefully--to land on the planet itself. Each step of the way would require they be searched. Each search would be thorough.

Grif wanted a drink.

"It really isn't very pretty at all," Bennet said finally. "Is it as dreary as it looks?"

"Actually," Grif said, "most of the people who live there seem rather happy."

Bennet frowned. "Some kind of telepathic mind control? I knew Swords were powerful, but--"

"Don't be idiotic," Morgan said, glancing up from his station to glare at Bennet. "No telepath can control a planet."

"Cut him a little slack, Morgan," Grif said, grinning. "Remember back when you were part of the Alliance? You thought the Radiant Throne was a land of misery, with men and women in chains, and weekly hymn-filled torture sessions."

"So it's not like that?" Bennet asked.

"Well. Sometimes." Grif turned his attention back to the planet. "I mean, when the Throne decides it's time to make their displeasure known, then yes, there can be quite a bit of that sort of thing. But Varkav isn't exactly a rebellious planet. It has its criminal underground and illicit entertainments, but that doesn't make the population more likely to rebel. In fact I think it has the opposite effect. And, of course, the bloody fantastic whiskey. That's a source of planetary pride, and rightly so."

"So they're actually happy?" Bennet shook his head. "The reports I read tend to omit that fact."

"They don't dance in the streets," Grif said. "But it's a prosperous planet, there's not a lot of poverty, and one thing I'll grant the Throne is that they take care of their poor, so even the poor aren't all that bad off. Religious duty and all that."

Bennet shook his head again. "It's sounds like some Alliance worlds, actually. I still don't know why none of this is in our reports."

Grif laughed. "They probably thought it was politically inconvenient to admit that there are worlds in the Radiant Throne that aren't depressing shitholes. Of course, all that comfort comes at a pretty hefty price. Ruled by telepathic religious zealots, immediate execution for daring to say anything that might be construed as treasonous… church on Sundays…" Grif shuddered.

"But the whiskey is fabulous," Amys said.

"Amen," Grif agreed.

"Still, it just doesn't seem right that--" Bennet trailed off and turned his attention to his console. "We're getting a message from Varkav Orbital Command. Instructions for standard orbit."