the papers, and Hop had never used one before.
Now he had used one(or is it my handwriting?) and not only that, he had gone to the bother of putting it in a rather effective, if undignified, hiding place.
Apparently, when he had written it, he had thought it was vital.
But if (if) there was a plot to kill Jazz Worthing (alias Meal Ticket) how in hell had he found out about it between the taping and the somec? It was strictly illegal for anyone but the nurses to come into the tape - and - tap; that was in the contract - it was imperial law, for heaven's sake, forget the contract.
And who would try to kill Jazz Worthing, the Empire's most successful starship pilot, not to mention the star of the five best - selling loops in trade history (I made the boy a star, he'd be nothing without his agent); killing him would not only hurt the Empire's war effort and tear down morale, it would also leave the fans disconsolate -
And thinking of the war effort, what about it? Hop went to the history sheets that hung from the wall. He was proud of the fact that he had a five year summary, a reminder of his high somec rating.
The news was basically good. The Empire was still intact, more or less, win a little, lose a little but the war is far from home.
Then, practical as always, Hop checked the gossip sheets and spent an amusing five minutes as he dressed, reading over what happened while he was under. Of course, most of the people he had never met - their somec schedules never coincided and so he knew of their escapades only from the sheets -
The flight schedules showed that Jazz was coming in only three days. Hop glanced up at the calendar on the wall (they never bother with clocks in the Sleeproom) and realized that he had been wakened almost three months early.
Damn.
Oh well, it could have been three years, that had happened before, and it was a small enough price to pay for his twenty percent of all of Jazz Worthing's revenues. Without Jazz, Hop Noyock wouldn't be on somec at all.
Somebody trying to kill Jazz? Asinine.
(If I find them, I'll tear them apart, the bastards.)
Hop met Jazz the minute the smoke had been pumped out of the landing hall. The two kilometer - long ship always took Hop's breath away (either that or the long climb up the ramp), just as the ridiculous narrow tube that held all the payload made him laugh. It looked like it was tacked onto the huge stardrive as an afterthought. The tail wagging the dog. A hammer to drive a needle through nothing.
Over the ship stretched the huge girders that supported the roof, now looking like fine lace in the distance. Only here, in the ship cradles, were there large doors in the metal roof that sheathed the entire planet of Capitol.
Hop watched as, far below the audience, gates were opened and the crowds flooded in. Jazz's arrival was big news on Capitol. Hop felt the old resentment as he watched the crowd fill all the available space around the base of the cradle. He had made a fortune by charging admission to Jazz's arrivals - but some of his competitors, sponsoring less popular pilots, had managed to convince the government that it was illegal to charge admission for entry to public government facilities - and they had even made Hop give back the money he had already made on it. Damn poor losers, that's all they were.
And then the door of the ship fell open and out stepped Jazz Worthing. Two hundred meters below, the fans started screaming so loudly that the sound could be heard even above the roar of the machinery that was testing the stardrive. Hop Noyock threw out his arms and made the theatrical gesture that had been seen by billions at the end of every Jazz Worthing loop. He strode to the tired - looking pilot and embraced him.
"Jazz Worthing, Capitol is grateful that you're home safe and victorious again."
"Nice to be back," Jazz said, smiling slightly, his bright blue eyes flashing in the dazzling lights. He was several centuries old, and looked younger than twenty. One last pat on the back, and then Hop reached down and flipped off the loop recorder. Jazz relaxed as soon as the taping