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.The smuggler walked down the narrow corridor, past the tiny cabins, through the circular lounge, and stopped by the main lock.He was just in time.There was a loud bong followed by a hoarse voice."Inspector Critzer here.open up."Lando palmed a dirt-blackened control panel and felt something heavy hit the bottom of his stomach.There were all kinds of customs inspectors.Good ones, bad ones, honest ones, and corrupt ones.Now for the fifty-thousand credit question: Was Critzer honest or corrupt? Of the two, corrupt was better.Honest inspectors are notoriously unreliable, while corrupt inspectors do what they're supposed to.An indicator light went from red to green, indicating that the outer hatch was closed.Lando touched a button, and as the inner hatch started to open, video appeared on the small screen located just under the lock controls.The smuggler didn't like what he saw.The customs inspector had short salt-and-pepper hair, a small nose, and large sensual lips.The lower one protruded slightly, giving him a pugnacious air.Lando saw that Critzer was about six feet tall.The custom inspector's once muscular body was now turning to fat.His blue uniform was neat enough, but a huge gut hung out over his police-style gun belt, and bounced slightly as its owner turned towards the inner hatch.Honest or corrupt? There was no way to tell.The smuggler slid into the surly but slightly oily persona that went with his appearance, and waited for the hatch to cycle open.Critzer stepped out, gave Lando an insulting once-over, and looked around."This ship is absolutely filthy.Don't you ever clean the damned thing?"Lando shrugged and smiled weakly."Yes, sir, but I'm runnin' kinda short-handed, and it's hard ta find the time."Critzer activated his portacomp and looked officious."So, you're master of this wretched scow?"Lando nodded eagerly."Yes, sir.Patrick Dever's the name, sir."Critzer looked bored."Okay, Dever, let's take a look at your registry and cargo manifest."Lando unzipped a breast pocket, reached inside, and withdrew a small, carefully doctored data cube.Though entirely bogus, the cube was a nice piece of forgery, and had cost Lando more than two thousand credits.Money well spent if it worked, a ticket to the rock pile if it didn't.One side of the cube had been smeared with filling from the fruit bar in Lando's pocket.The smuggler wiped at it with his sleeve, grinned apologetically, and handed the cube to Critzer.The customs inspector accepted the cube with obvious distaste, dropped it into the receptacle on his portacomp, and touched a key.Data flooded his screen.He read aloud."Ship, The Tinker's Damn, registered on New Britain, to one Patrick Dever.""That's me," Lando said proudly, and threw in a silly grin for good measure.Critzer looked up from the screen and scowled."Shut up, Dever.If I want to hear from you, I'll ask.Now, where was I? Oh, yes.Most recent port of call, the Dallas industrial-agroplex on Terra, where you loaded five thousand pounds of animal protein."Critzer raised an eyebrow."Animal protein? What the hell for? We've got plenty of meat."Lando did his best to smile ingratiatingly."Not just any animal protein, sir.These are one hundred percent genuine Terran steaks, the best in the empire.Each one is perfectly marbled, hand-trimmed, and flash-frozen ta preserve that wonderful flavor.All ya gotta do is take one of these babies, defrost it, and pop it on an open grill.Before long, ya start ta hear that fat sizzlin' 'n' poppin'.Then ya flip it a coupla times ta seal those juices in, and bango, ya slice it up.It fair ta melts in your mouth, sir.and I'm thinkin' they'll sell real quick."Critzer ran his tongue over thick, fleshy lips.Lando's description had set his stomach to growling and he could almost taste the Terran steak.He cleared his throat."Maybe, and maybe not.It's true that Terran cattle don't do well on HiHo, but we've got some pretty good variants, and I don't hear anybody complaining.Still, I suppose there might be a market, if you're willing to pay the duty.""Oh yes, sir," Lando answered eagerly."Of course I'll pay.I run an honest ship, I do.""I'm glad to hear that," Critzer replied sanctimoniously."There's far too much smuggling these days.Hang the bastards, that's what I say.That'll slow 'em down.""Yes, sir," Lando agreed soberly."That'd do it, sir.""Well, enough of this chitchat," Critzer said, motioning towards the bow of the ship."Let's see what's aboard."Critzer began his inspection in the control room and worked his way back towards the stern.Whatever else he might be, Critzer was no fool, and the ensuing inspection was one of the most thorough that Lando had ever seen.The portly inspector looked under, over, beneath, behind, and around everything.At Critzer's insistence, Lando was forced to open crawl spaces, to take up deck panels, to remove equipment facings and prove there were electronics inside [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]