Chapter 6 
Chapter 6
“I DON’T KNOW what today’s young people are coming to,” complained Captain Dunbar as he and Grimes left the jail. “Drugs. Orgies.”
“I’ve never taken part in an orgy,” said Grimes rather wistfully. “Have you?”
“Of course not!” snapped Dunbar, looking at his superior in a rather dubious manner. Then, apparently having decided that the commodore must have been joking, he went on, “Until now we’ve been clear of all this sort of thing on the Rim Worlds. I always said that it was a big mistake to open these planets to intergalactic trade.”
“Mphm. Where am I staying, by the way?”
“We’ve booked you into the Rimrock House, Commodore.”
Grimes sighed. There was a Rimrock House at Port Forlorn, on Lorn, another one at Port Farewell, on Faraway, yet another at Port Edgell, on Thule. From time to time he had stayed at them all. They were the most expensive hotels on the Rim Worlds—but by no means the best. He would have preferred some place with a less pretentious menu but far better food, with the staff not rigged out like galactic high admirals, but with far better service. But it would be only for a few days, until he had this Rim Caribou mess sorted out.
The Rimrock House was one of the huge buildings fronting on to the Central Square. Dunbar drove Grimes the short distance, although he would rather have walked, and promised that he would have the commodore’s gear picked up from Rim Malemute and sent out to the hotel.
Grimes left the car, walked over the sidewalk to the big doorway, through the force field that prevented the atmosphere of the hotel from being tainted by the excellent fresh air outside. On a world such as Lorn there would have been some point to it, but on Ultimo it was merely a very expensive absurdity. He nodded to the gorgeously uniformed doorman who had saluted him as though he were at least the Federation’s first space lord. He went to the huge desk behind which a half-dozen very pretty girls were chirping to each other like colorful inmates of an aviary. Eventually one of them condescended to notice him.
“Sir?”
“My name is Grimes. I am booked here.”
“Would that be Commodore Grimes, sir?” asked the tall blonde, statuesque in her form-revealing trouser suit of crimson dermitex.
“Yes.”
“There is a Carlottigram for you, sir. It came in only a few minutes ago.” She handed Grimes the dark blue envelope.
What now? he wondered as he ran a fingernail along the seal fine. What now? The envelope tidily fell apart. He looked at the message it had contained.
From: Officer Commanding Rim Worlds Navy
To: Commodore Grimes, D.S.M., O.C., F.H.S.C., R.W.N.R.
Copies: c/o Rimrock House, Port Last, Ultimo
c/o Tug, Rim Malemute, Port Last, Ultimo
c/o Dock Office, Rim Runners, Port Last, Ultimo
Text: As and from date of origination you are to consider yourself called to Active Service, Rim Worlds Navy, Pay and Allowances as for Commodore First Class, Expenses as requisite. You are to cooperate with Police, Customs and other authorities in investigation of drug smuggling. Indefinite leave of absence from Rim Runners arranged.
(Signed) Kravitz
“Mphm,” grunted Grimes thoughtfully. He could imagine what had been happening. High-up politicians must have been getting concerned about the general deterioration of Rim Worlds’ morals, and some of them must have demanded that the Navy do something about the smuggling in of drugs. And Admiral Kravitz—Grimes could just picture him—must have said, “We’ll put Commodore Grimes on the job. Anything at all off-beat is right up his alley.” And if Grimes were successful in stopping the traffic the Navy would take the credit. If he made a mess of things, it would be pointed out that, after all, he was only a reserve officer, not Navy proper. On past occasions Sonya had worked with him—but that had been when the Federation and the Confederacy had been acting in concert. On this occasion they would not be. The majority of Federated Planets approved the permissive society. The Rim Worlds did not, repeat not.
Oh, well, thought Grimes, I suppose I’d better do something about something. For a start, I’d better organize transport for myself. Billy Williams is a reserve commander, and Rim Malemute is rated as a naval auxiliary vessel. And the Navy has a yard here, at Port Last, and an armory. It’s time I did some telephoning. It’s just as well that the Admiralty will be footing the bills.
A smartly uniformed boy took him up to his suite. Once there Grimes called Rim Malemute, by now hooked into the planetary telephone service, and told Williams to come out to see him as soon as possible. Then he spoke to Rim Runners’ Port Last manager, telling him that he, Grimes, had been called to Active Service. He dictated a Priority Carlottigram to be sent to Admiral Kravitz, requesting the services of the Malemute and her personnel. He rang the O.I.C. Port Last Base, introducing himself and warning the officer that probably he would require some modifications made to the tug. He sent another Carlottigram, this one to Sonya, saying, Involved in fun and games. See if you can get yourself asked to the party. He caught Captain Dunbar at his office, and told him what was happening. Finally he rang the Port Last chief collector of customs.
“Grimes here. Commodore Grimes. I’ve been instructed to work with you people on this drug running business.”
“Oh, yes, Commodore. The Navy told us that they were putting a senior officer on to it. Hang on a moment, will you? There’s a friend of yours here would like a word with you.”
A friend? thought Grimes. If I had any friends on this world they wouldn’t be in the customs department.
But he recognized the face that appeared in the little screen of the telephone. It was Billinghurst, who said, “A very good day to you, Commodore. I suppose you came here over the Rim Caribou affair. I was here when it happened. There’s been a conference of all the senior customs officers of the Rim Worlds. Yes, about this drug business.” He laughed fatly. “I think you’ll admit, now, that sending out circulars isn’t quite good enough!”