Interstellar travel -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space colonies -- Fiction
The goods were in sealed cases against the back wall as usual. Ross
could only tell that some of them were perforated and therefore ought to
contain living animals. Only the one Sonny from the starship crew was
there; presumably the rest were back on the ship. He wouldn’t be able to
follow Oldham’s orders to snoop out the nature of the freight from them.
Well, damn Oldham; damn even the auction, Ross thought to himself. His
mood of gloom did not lift.
The auction was a kind of letdown. All that turmoil and bustle,
concentrated in a tiny arc around the velvet ropes, contrasted
unpleasantly with the long, vacant rows of dusty seats that stretched to
the back of the hall. Maybe a couple of centuries ago Ross would have
enjoyed the auction more. But now all it made him think of was the thing
he had been brooding about for a night and a day, the slow emptying of
the planet, the....
Decay.
But, as usual, no one else seemed to notice or to care.
Captain Delafield consulted his watch and stood up. He rapped the table.
“In accordance with the rules of the Trade Commission and the
appropriate governing statutes,” he droned, “certain merchandise will
now be placed on public auction. The Haarland Trading Corporation,
consignee, agrees and consents to divest itself of merchandise from
Consignment 97-W amounting by estimate of the customs authorities to
twenty-five per cent of the total value of all merchandise in said
consignment. All receipts of this auction are to be entered as excise
duties paid by the consignee on said merchandise, said receipts to
constitute payment in full on excise on Consignment 97-W. The clerk will
record; if any person here present wishes to enter an objection let him
do so thank you.” He glanced at a slip of paper in his hand. “I am
requested to inform you that the Haarland Trading Corporation has
entered with the clerk a protective bid of five thousand shields on each
item.” There was a rustle in the hall. Five thousand shields was a lot
of money. “Your auctioneer, Win Fraley,” said Captain Delafield, and sat
down in the first row of seats.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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