"Berths in Cabin Class are assigned in accordance with the company's pleasure," Ran responded sharply. "If you mean that some stewards have already pocketed bribes for arranging lower bunks for people who'll have to move to top ones—that sounds like a personal problem to me."
"We will not move!" Mr. Sadek cried. "Our ticket is correct!"
"Sir," Ran said, "you have a valid ticket, and responsibility for the error rests with Trident Starlines. But there was an error, and—"
"You say our ticket is correct and you say that the fault is yours!" Sadek said. His eldest daughter edged closer to her mother, and the two-year-old boy began to cry. "Racism is the only reason that you move us and not them!"
Ran looked at the smaller man, considered his next words and their possible side effects—and spoke the flat truth anyway. "No sir," he said. "I said your ticket is valid, but it's not correct."
He took a deep breath. "And I said Trident is responsible for the error . . . but as for what actually happened, I'd guess you knew the Empress was fully booked, but you got a friend at Golconda Travel Agency—"the issuing agency on the Sadeks' ticket"—to cut you a ticket through their Ain al-Mahdi office where the data base hadn't been updated. If necessary, I'll see to it that the company reviews its arrangements with Golconda—"
Mrs. Sadek gasped and tugged her husband's sleeve. It was long odds that Golconda Travel Agency would turn out to be a relative from her side of the family.
"—but for the moment, what's important is that they were authorized to ticket for the Empress at the time they did so, even though the space had been assigned some weeks earlier. Therefore, on behalf of the company, I'm arranging a double cabin for you with a little more than twice the space—full First Class entertainment in both cabins—"
The hologram feeds were run to all living spaces as part of the emergency information net. Entertainment programming required only a software change.
"—and of course, use of all the First Class public spaces. What I can't offer you—" Ran smiled tightly to underline the irony "—are programmable murals. Yours will be one scene apiece."
"Cabin four-three-two is a Kalahari display," Bridge volunteered. "Cabin four-three-four is a coral reef."
"You'll have a desert and an underwater scene," Ran said. "Or you can turn them off."
Mrs Sadek tugged her husband's attention again and whispered furiously into his ear while he continued to watch Ran. The cadence of her voice was audible, though her words were not.
Sadek suddenly and unexpectedly smiled. "Twice as large?" he said. "And a separate room for the children?"
"You bet," Ran said. "It'll take a moment to configure the beds the way you decide you want them, but it'll be more comfortable than this."
8241 was set up with two twin beds. The Sadek's steward had brought a crib and an inflatable which now rested in the corridor on the opposite side of the door from the Wade/Belgeddes luggage.
Mrs. Sadek whispered again.
"And there will be no difficulty for my brother-in-law?"
"Not on this one," Ran agreed. "But you might pass on the word that if I personally have a situation like this arise on a Golconda ticket again . . . then I personally will see to it that the next time's the last time."
Sadek giggled. "Yes," he said, "yes, of course." He straightened. "Let us go, then!"
Ran glanced at the stewards. "Your move, gentlemen. Four-three-two and four. Oh—and make sure full holo is enabled."
He nodded to Wade and Belgeddes as he backed away from the cabin.
Wade stepped close and murmured, "Fine job, my boy. Good to see that the sons of Earth haven't forgotten how to handle these fringe-worlders. Why, I remember when I was supervising a prospecting team on Hobilo before the Long Troubles—"
"Thank you, sir," Ran said firmly. "I very much regret the delay, but I trust you'll enjoy your trip with us nonetheless."
He strode off down the corridor, heading toward the bow to permit him to turn his back on Wade. He didn't like having Sadek call him a racist. He liked much less to have Wade approving of him as a racist.
And while the Sadeks' home planet, Tellichery, had a highly developed industry and culture, Ran Colville's own Bifrost was a fringe world in every disparaging sense of the term.
* * *
"Whoopie ti-yi-yo," Mohacks sang in a low voice, "git along, little doggie. . . ."
"Don't you let Commander Kneale hear you saying that sorta crap," Babanguida warned. "He'd have your guts for garters."