The Golden String

Ferrat had 24 days left of his sentence. This made him very friendly to all, and Eagle got easily in touch with him. They became particularly close after having drunk the last bottle of ijra which Ferrat had brought with him from AB-150 where he had been member of the Reclamation Brigades for a year and a half. He had spent nearly two years in that hospital and now opened the bottle with a broad gesture and filled the glasses. A strong stench of sweat hit them. Eagle wrinkled his nose while Ferrat giggled and asked, "You know why it smells of sweat? Come on! Well, because it has sweated with running in a hurry to be drunk by us. Ha, ha, ha! You'll get used to the smell. It's without equal because it doesn't give you a headache but stews you just splendid. Not like alcohol. Cheers!" He gulped down his drink.

Eagle took his glass, fastened his sharp eyes inside and started probing around the drink. Ferrat looked at him askance but he also fastened his eyes on that glass, convinced that Eagle had discovered at least two living fish swimming inside. Instead, Eagle burst out into his patent laughter....

After Ferrat had recovered from the shock, he gave out a faint groan.

"Please, don't do that again! You scared me out of my wits. Someone who's been on the Reclamation Brigades for 18 months and has had several glasses of ijra after that, may well go off his rocker, hearing this laughter of yours. Don't do that again."

Eagle smiled tenderly and drained his glass at one go. He sat back, waiting for the intoxication with the unfamiliar sweaty drink. He had recuperated somewhat, and now the two of them were in the artificial gravitation ward. Eagle was wearing a pajamas in a disgusting color and hardly stood himself in it but the bright orange robe drove him outright mad and he did not wear it.

He was looking with an assessing eye at his assistant-to-be, and the latter's grotesque figure was even to his liking-the man was short and rotund, his arms like sausages, no, to be precise, his fingers were like sausages and his arms looked rather like big batons of salami. A huge hairy mustache drooped under his nose, probably in compensation for his balding dome of a skull on which just a little down had remained right above his forehead, as thin as that of a freshly hatched chicken. And yet, the guy had some appeal. If he put on some hair, he wouldn't look like that.

They had a good chat. Ferrat proved to be a born organizer of dubious projects, and they were the source of his incessant trouble with the law. Eagle told him about his idea to discover the Star Eye and become the legitimate owners of the cargo and the ship or at least to get the prize of the insurance company. He even showed to Ferrat the computer models of the case which were attached to the Bulletin. But Ferrat did not show any interest in mathematical models and said that they should look for those who knew something on that matter. Surely there were such people but they could not apply for the prize for obvious reasons. Ferrat suggested that they should both get to work all around Tinderland. It was there that the journalist had discovered the secret conversations with the mediator and it was most probably from there that the strings of the operation had been pulled. Quite a number of ambitious people were to be found in Tinderland at that time who did not stop at anything, even at war.

Ferrat's term expired and he started for Province Five to look for traces.