Whipping Star Part 48

"Oooooo," the Palenki moaned. "You know even this of the egg?"

"I'm going to invoke your name and force you to swear by your most solemn oath in just a moment," McKie said.

"I've sworn by my arm!"

"Not by the egg of your arm," McKie said.

The Palenki lowered its head. The single arm writhed.

"How many did you sell?" McKie asked.

"Only forty-five," the Palenki hissed.

"Only forty-five?"

"That's all! I swear it!" Glistening fear oils began oozing from the Palenki's eyes. "She offered so much, and the chosen ones accepted freely. She promised unlimited eggs!"

"No breeding limit?" McKie asked. "How could that be?"

The Palenki glanced fearfully at Bildoon, who sat hunched across the desk, face grim.

"She would not explain, other than to say she'd found new worlds beyond the Consent jurisdiction."

"Where are those worlds?" McKie asked.

"I don't know! I swear it by the egg of my arm! I don't know!"

"How was the deal set up?" McKie asked.

"There was a PanSpechi."

"What did he do?"

"He offered my phylum the profits from twenty worlds for one hundred standard years."

"Whoooeee!" someone behind McKie said.

"When and where did this transaction take place?" McKie asked.

"In the home of my eggs only a year ago."

"A hundred years' profits," McKie muttered. "A safe deal. You and your phylum won't be around even a fraction that long if she succeeds in what she's planning."

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. What is she doing?"

McKie ignored the question, asked, "Have you any clue at all as to where her worlds may be?"

"I swear not," the Palenki said. "Bring your voicecorder. It will prove I speak the truth."

"There's no such thing as a voicecorder for your species," McKie said.

The Palenki stared at him a moment, then, "May your eggs rot!"

"Describe the PanSpechi for us," McKie said.

"I withdraw my cooperation?"

"You're in too far now," McKie said, "and my deal's the only one in town."

"Deal?"

"If you cooperate, everyone in this room will forget your admission of guilt."

"More trickery," the Palenki snarled.

McKie looked at Bildoon, said, "I think we'd better call in the Palenki council and give them the full report."

"I think so," Bildoon agreed.

"Wait!" the Palenki said. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," McKie said.

"But I have no choice, is that what you say?"

"That's what I say."

"May your eggs rot if you betray me."

"Every one of them," McKie agreed. "Describe your PanSpechi."

"He was ego-frozen," the Palenki said. "I saw the scars, and he bragged of it to show that I could trust him."

"Describe him."

"One PanSpechi looks much like another. I don't know -- but the scars were purple. I remember that."

"Did he have a name?"

"He was called Cheo."

McKie glanced at Bildoon.

"The name signifies new meanings for old ideas," Bildoon said. "It's in one of our ancient dialects. Obviously an alias."

McKie returned his attention to the Palenki. "What kind of agreement did he give you?"

"Agreement?"