It was just as well, for he was plugged into a commercial network of enormous complexity. Ninety percent of success seemed to lie in
asking the right questions. Tricky, but after several hours' work he seemed to be getting the hang of it. "Besides, with Mayhew in the spare bedroom, I'm doomed to the couch."
"I thought my father had the couch."
"He ceded it to me, with a smile of grim glee. He hates the couch.
He slept on it all the time I went to school here. He's blamed every ache, twinge, and lower back pain he's had ever since on it, even after
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two years. It couldn't possibly be old age creeping up on him, oh, no. .
. ."
Elena strangled a giggle. She leaned over his shoulder for a look at the screen. The light from it silvered her profile, and the scent of her hair, falling forward, dizzied him. "Finding anything?" she asked.
Miles entered three wrong directions in a row, swore, and
refocused his attention. "Yes, I think so. There were a lot more factors to be taken into account than I realized, at first. But I think I've found something—" He retrieved his fumbled data, and waved his finger through the holoscreen. " That is my first cargo."
The screen displayed a lengthy manifest. "Agricultural
equipment," she analyzed. "Bound for—whatever is Felice?"
"It's a country on Tau Verde IV, wherever that is. It's a four-week run—I've been cost-calculating fuel, and supplies, and the logistics of it in general—everything from spare parts to toilet paper. That's not what's interesting, though. What's interesting is that with that cargo I can pay for the trip and clear my debt to Calhoun, well inside the time limit on my note." His voice went small. "I'm afraid I, uh, underestimated the time I'd need for the RG 132 to run enough cargos to cover my note, a little. A lot. Well, quite a lot. Badly. The ship costs more to run than I'd realized, when I finally went to add up all the real numbers." He pointed to a figure. "But that's what they're offering for transport, C.O.D. Felice. And the cargo's ready to go immediately."
Her eyebrows drew down in awed puzzlement. "Pay for the whole
ship in one run? But that's wonderful! But . . ."
He grinned. "But?"
"But why hasn't somebody else snapped up this cargo? It seems to have been sitting in the warehouse a long time."
"Clever girl," he crooned encouragingly. "Go on."
"I see they only pay on delivery. But maybe that's normal?"
"Yes . . ." He spread the word out, like butter. "Anything else?"
She pursed her lips. "Something's weird."
"Indeed." His eyes crinkled. "Something is, as you say, weird."