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There was a big ship captains' meeting; they voted to reclaim their wax and sell it individually to Murell, but to retain membership in the Co-op. They think they'll have to stay in the Co-op to get anything that's gettable out of Gerrit's and Belsher's money.
Down to the left, there was a commotion and people were getting out of the way as a dozen men come pushing through, towing a contragravity skid with a 50-mm ship's gun on it. I began not liking the looks of things, and Glenn Murell, who had come up from his nap below, was liking it even less. He'd come to Fenris to buy tallow-wax, not to fight a civil war. I didn't want any of that stuff, either.
When the captain gets paid for the wax he's turned over to the Co-op, he divides the money among the crew. But every scrap of this belongs to the ships that took it, up till it's bought and paid for by Kapstaad Chemical." "Well, if a captain wants his wax back, after it's been turned over for sale to the Co-op, can he get it?" Murell asked. "Absolutely!" Murell nodded, and we went on.
The only thing left to do is get everybody out of it we can, and organize a new one." "I guess that's so," Joe agreed. "I wonder, though if Ravick has really got wise to Murell." "Walt figured it out since the ship got in," Oscar said. "Belsher's been on the ship with Murell for six months. Well, call it three; everything speeds up about double in hyperspace.
Dad had the same idea, only he was one hundred per cent for my going with Murell. I think he wanted me out of Port Sandor, where I wouldn't get in the way of any small high-velocity particles of lead that might be whizzing around. We heard nothing more from Bish Ware that evening.
"On the Peenemünde, I was talking about taking Mr. Murell for a trip in the Javelin," he said. "That was while we were still pretending he'd come here to write a book. Maybe that would be a good idea, anyhow." "It's a cinch we can't let him get killed on us," his father said. "I doubt if Exotic Organics would send anybody else out, if he was." "Here," Dad said.
"Well, I think we can get some stuff out of the astrocompass that can be used. Let me in here, will you?" I got up. "You take over for me," I said. "I'll go on the wood-chopping detail." Tom wanted to go, too; Abe told him to keep on with his toolmaking. Piet Dumont said he'd guide us, and Glenn Murell said he'd go along.
The password is 'Exotic, and the countersign is 'Organics." He grinned at Murell. "Compliment to your company." "Good enough. I'll want a bottle of liquor. My breath needs a little touching up, and I may want to offer somebody a drink. If I could get inside that place, there's no telling what I might be able to do.
Oscar and Murell and Joe and Tom Kivelson and I went down into the boat; somebody opened the port and we floated out and lifted onto the Second Level Down. There was a fringe of bars and cafes and dance halls and outfitters and ship chandlers for a couple of blocks back, and then we ran into the warehouse district.
Murell and I want to find out exactly what's going on here." "Well, here; you don't need to put me in storage," Murell protested. "I can take care of myself." Add, Famous Last Words, I thought. "I'm sure of it, but we can't take any chances," Oscar told him. "Right now, you are Fenris's Indispensable Man. If you're not around to buy tallow-wax, Ravick's won the war."
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