Free John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel by John Maddox Roberts

far enough from the centers of space travel so that most governments never found it worth their while to clean it out. Besides, a fair number Of governments did a little clandestine business with the New Andorrans.
    Kelly was ready for some time on planet. The novelty of spacing was quickly wearing off, and he had found that confinement in a small ship, seeing the same few faces every day, could dim the strongest enthusiasm for space travel. There was a price, though. Torwald had made him repaint the supply room and machine shop lab before getting any shore time, a job he'd been dodging for weeks. He caught up with the planetside party just as it was about to leave.
    "I'm finished," said Kelly.
    "I guess we'll have to let you come along," Ham said, wrinkling his nose. "You need airing out. You smell like paint."
    "Let's go," said the skipper, taciturn as usual. The captain, Ham, Torwald, and Kelly, composed the arms-buying expedition. The others were off locating supplies for their departments, to be laid in later by the quartermaster. It would be another headache for Kelly, who would be doing most of the work. Torwald took the boy's training seriously and believed in on-the-job instruction.
    The Space Angel's port fees were paid before the crew left for the city. They received some strange looks from the approach-control officers, who were puzzled at the way the Angel had popped directly from hyper into parking orbit. There were no questions, though. Truro was one port where a spacer was safe from embarrassing inquiries.
    Torwald, who was familiar with Truro, took charge of the arms-buying expedition, quickly making inquiries about the best dealer from whom to obtain arms. He was advised to try a bar callcd the gun Runner. Kelly gawked and rubbernecked as they walked through the crowded streets. New Andorra was still a frontier world, and most of the buildings were of local woods, the streets hard-foamed rather than paved.
    The inhabitants were a colorful mixture—men and women in spacer garb, merchants in expensive fabrics and furs, tough-looking types, many of them frankly, theatrically piratical. Almost everyone was armed. For that matter, so were Torwald, Ham, and the skipper. The shops were stuffed with valuable merchandise at suspiciously low prices. The skipper stopped at a display window. The wares inside consisted mainly of delicate sculptures of ethereal lightness, made of precious metals mounting tiny jewels, unmistakably the work of the Taliesin art colony.
    "Ham, what was the name of that ship they found in orbit around Ivanhoe with no crew and no cargo?" The skipper was visibly upset.
    "Ebony Star, Black Star Line."
    "That's the one. Ebony Star was carrying a lot of Taliesin art work. The insurance company published the manifest in the Spacer's Newsletter." Her face was bleak. "I don't care much for pirates."
    "She was probably hijacked by her own crew," Torwald said. "Officers might have been in on it, too. It happens often enough, Skipper."
    "Not in the Black Star Line. They recruit officers better than that. I don't like mutineers, either. Come on, let's go find that bar."
    There were few real offices in Truro. Most business was transacted in bars, and > particular bars had become associated with a special trade. The Gun Runner had a hand-carved wooden sign depicting a human figure sprinting with a bag on his back. From the mouth of the bag protruded the barrels of forcebeam rifles. Inside, the public room was dimly lit, the little light provided by glow-disks stuck to the massive overhead beams. The interior was smoky and full of odd smells; the walls were decorated with clusters of edged weapons and obsolete firearms and beamers. The skipper chose a table against a wall, beneath an arrangement of old Space Marine sword-knives. Kelly noticed that nobody had asked his age.
    Torwald sauntered over to the bar and ordered a bottle and four glasses. When the barkeep returned with his order, Torwald brought up