Freelance On The Galactic Tunnel Network by E. Foner (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📗

those in the back, the ten thousand plus traders seated at long rows of tables in the enormous Vergallian tent gave EarthCent’s public relations director a thunderous round of applause. Hildy climbed onto the stage and took her place at the lectern with the ease of a practiced public speaker.

“Thank you for an introduction that gives new meaning to the phrase, ‘Too much information,’” she began. “But in this case, I suppose it’s helpful that you all know that I have the president’s ear, along with the rest of him. Thanks to Flower’s cooperation in providing me with remote Stryxnet access, I just got off a tunneling conference call with the president and the ambassadors of the EarthCent Intelligence Steering Committee.”

“If this is a tall tale, it’s not funny,” somebody called out in a voice that testified to its owner having over-indulged in the alcohol-soaked fruitcake.

“I think those of you with outstanding mortgages on your ships will be glad to hear that I’m not making this up,” Hildy responded politely. “You’ve all read the stories in the Galactic Free Press by now, so you must be wondering about the legal and moral implications of making continued mortgage and refi payments to criminals. While Triad Enterprises, through its MORE subsidiary, was engaged in illegal activities that ranged from predatory lending and the dissemination of false trading information to the sabotage and even destruction of ships, the parent company also draws deposits from legitimate investors. Projectionist?”

 A low-quality holographic image of a slowly revolving Earth appeared over the stage.

“Each of those flags you see represents a location where Triad Enterprises has a significant presence providing banking services and employing locals. Given the number of nations and city-states involved, we expect that it will be months, if not years, before the local authorities can untangle the criminal elements from the legitimate business activities and transfer the assets to responsible fiduciaries.”

“So do we continue making our loan payments?” a young woman near the stage inquired.

“In short, yes,” Hildy said. “Although they aren’t tunnel network members, the Sharf government is deeply embarrassed at the unwitting part they played in this criminal scheme. They have instructed their association which handles pre-owned ship sales to other species to buy back all of the securitized mortgages they sold Triad Enterprises, a process that should be completed within days. The payments you submit through your mini-registers will be rerouted to the Sharf, and everything will go back to the way it was in previous years.”

“What about the refi deals?” a number of voices called out.

“The situation there is more complicated because of the fraud involved. For the time being, you’ll go back to making your original mortgage payments, and when Triad’s new management is in place, we’ll negotiate a deal that takes the interests of all innocent parties into account. Those of you with refi deals are advised to steer clear of entering Earth’s jurisdiction until this is resolved, as repossession counts for nine-tenths of the law.”

“Thank you, Hildy,” the master of ceremonies said, resuming his place at the lectern. “I didn’t understand half of that, but I paid off my mortgage a decade ago so I guess I’m in the clear. Next up we have the finalists in the Tall Tales contest. If you missed any of the preliminary rounds, for a five-cred donation to the Ellen’s Ship Fund, you can pick up a recorded chip from the information desk. Without further ado, I give you Trader Yasmine.”

“Thank you, Gary,” the woman with silver-flecked black hair said, taking her place at the lectern. “No mouse peeking out of the beard this year?”

“Late night, he’s sleeping in. You have ten minutes.”

“Well, I’ll just get started then, though I should caution you all that if you’re expecting some wild invention, this is actually a true story about something that happened to me on a Dollnick ag world. I knew from the minute I stepped off my ship that something was rotten, because my monkey, who couldn’t be here tonight due to a prior engagement, said to me, ‘Yazz, something is rotten.’”

Nine minutes later, the trader wound up the story in which she and her monkey saved the ag world from an invasive species of tuber parasites through a series of coincidences that culminated in her accidental marriage to the Dollnick prince who owned the planet. Yasmine concluded by saying, “I’d love to tell you how I escaped from his four-armed embrace, but time is running out, so I’ll have to save that for my soon-to-be-released maiden novel, ‘Married to the Trillionaire Alien Prince: Book One.’ Buy it wherever they print on demand.”

“Thank you, Yasmine, for sharing your harrowing experience with us,” Gary said. “It should serve as a cautionary tale for any of you who frequent Dollnick ag worlds on business, as forewarned is forearmed.”

There were loud groans from the crowd, and not a few traders could be heard repeating the bad pun while waving four fingers in the faces of their neighbors and explaining, “Forearmed is four-armed, you idiot. Get it now?”

“Next up is Darla, who recently returned from trading among the pirates on the Horten frontier,” Gary said. “Darla, you have ten minutes.”

“The last time a man said that to me, he was grossly overestimating his stamina,” the willowy trader said as she took her place behind the lectern. “Like Yasmine, I’m going to disappoint those of you who are expecting a tale out of a Vergallian drama. Everything I’m about to tell you really did happen to me, and if it wasn’t for good luck and the intensive training I received as an orphan raised by Horten assassins, I wouldn’t be here today.”

There were audience members running for the portable toilets by the time Darla wrapped up the story in which she prevented a pirate invasion of the tunnel network by teaming up with a young Stryx who was