The next morning, Crawley was eager to keep tabs on the criminal he’d let loose in his beloved library. He fumbled to put on his robes, and it seemed his shoes wanted to rebel as he accidentally tried to force them on the wrong feet.
Three shrill beeps sounded over the intercom system as Crawley finally figured out his lefts from rights. The voice of an announcer from some distant world proclaimed (after what sounded like a slurp of coffee) that the Gor Library was open for business. Crawley heard the familiar clunks and clicks as the systems came on throughout the station. The lights lit up, the air conditioning whirred as it changed to a more comfortable setting for guests, and the shutters covering the windows clanged open.
The yellow alien sped through the library towards docking bay 5, but on his way there he saw Bob in his camel hair coat, perusing books in the Gor section. This was odd. Bob had asked him where the human section was yesterday. A thousand explanations went through the telepath’s head at once; maybe he got lost? Is he looking for a place to hide something? Is he scoping out the library for an act of terrorism?
Crawley couldn’t help but mash his hands together nervously as he approached the man. Luckily, being a telepath, he could say whatever he wanted to the criminal and no one would hear but him. What’re you doing in the Gor section?
The human fairly jumped out of his coat at the sudden sound of Crawley in his head. He turned around, saw it was just the telepath, and wiped the sweat from his forehead back over his gray hair. “Oh, it’s you. Enjoying that… uh…” he paused, realizing he shouldn’t say certain things out loud. “…that gift I gave you?”
I’m not using it on myself, so no. He said in Bob’s mind, crossing his arms. What’re you doing in the Gor section of the library? I thought you said you wanted to read human books?
“That doesn’t mean I’m not curious. What’re you gonna do with the… gift, then?”
I’m going to keep the library open. They’re threatening to close it, you see.
He raised an eyebrow, dubious—wondering why one would wish to use the money for such seemingly selfless reasons. “You could use it to retire, you know? Leave this dusty junk-hole and go to one of those paradise systems. Find some ladies, maybe.” Crawley rolled his big green eyes. I’m already married with children. And anyway, I have no use for money myself except to try and save this place and the treasures within.
“No use for money?” Bob sounded indignant. “What about your kids’ education? A nice house? There’s gotta be something.”
That’s not how education on my world works. Since telepaths can relay information so quickly between ourselves, and since we retain information so easily, it takes only days for one of our kind to become an expert in a chosen career path.
Bob seemed doubtful for a moment, then shrugged and laughed in his middle-toned voice. “And you chose to be a librarian when you could have been anything in a few days’ time?” Crawley could have explained his love and respect for tangibooks, but instead, and uncharacteristically he shot back; and you chose to be a criminal. He surprised himself by how dagger-like he made the words enter the other man’s mind, and he saw him wince a little. Bob rubbed his temple, then leaned forward and whispered; “You know you’re a criminal too for helping me.”
True, but I’m using the money for a good cause.
“But just think. Once you let me go, I could hurt people.”
Somehow I don’t think you’re a murderer. If you’re only a robber like you claimed, then the hurting will be minimal. Crawley knew he was reasoning away his guilt, but these were desperate times. Bob shrugged and turned away, picking up a book. It seemed he knew the Gor language. Perhaps he was more educated than the average criminal.
Just as Crawley was about to walk away and go about his daily chores, Bob spoke quietly; “you know… if you want to make more money for your library, we could make this place into a sort of… underground railway for criminals. A waypoint to the ungoverned territories. The cash flow would be constant.”
Again, Crawley surprised himself. A hundred years ago he would have instantly rebuffed this suggestion. The very thought of more criminals in his precious library would have made him dizzy with rage. Now the idea made him dizzy with possibilities. Do you… know a lot of criminals who need a place to hide?
“I do. Does this mean you’d consider it?”
Crawley paused to look at the books all around them. They seemed almost like little lost children to him, just in need of someone to take care of them and show them attention from time to time. And he knew he was the only person in the galaxy who could possibly them.
I would like to set something like that up.
Bob seemed a little amazed by the meek-looking alien. “Okay. If you get me outta here per our original agreement, we’ll set something up after I’ve settled my accounts elsewhere. You should get some of the other employees on board or hire more people if you want this to work.”
The few days Bob was on board passed quickly. Soon he gave Crawley the other half of the money, told him he’d contact him again in a few weeks, and was on his way. Docking bay 5 was empty once more. The moment he was gone, the alien began making plans. There was a lot to consider if he was going to be a criminal, and his telepathic brain began speeding through a mental list of the things he’d need, as well as a list all the things that could go wrong, and all the things that could go right.
Luckily, working in a dilapidated library in a bad corner of space offered great opportunities. Laundering the money would be quite easy if he could get a few more employees on board, and there’d be a constant influx of fugitives needing a place to stay. Lastly, the authorities never visited or cared about the library except for the occasional health inspector.
It seemed like an air-tight plan, and there was only one moment of hesitation for the telepath as his thoughts settled over his wife and kids. It was only natural to speculate what they might think about him if he was caught as a criminal. He hadn’t seen them in over a year, which wasn’t uncommon for his long-lived species, and so his mind meandered a bit as he wondering how they’d grown and what career path they’d taken interest in.
Thinking about many different things at once was common for telepaths, but thinking about many different things with different emotional ties was difficult. So, he decided to put away the thoughts of his family for the moment.
If there was one person in the library who would help him with laundering money for the library, he knew it’d be Loraine. He found her eating a frozen waffle in the Hruut language area. It was a smaller area of the library – the Hruut people weren’t fond of the written word. This was ironic because a great deal of their writings were the most powerful and ever-relevant stories to exist in the changing, troubled galaxy. Because most of the Hruut people were uncaring of books, these tomes had never been digitized, making them the only copies left in existence.
She carefully put her waffle down by the side of the book she was engrossed in when she saw him coming. “Do you think the government would at least be interested in having the Hruut books moved to a safe holding? This stuff is dynamite.”
No, they already said in the event of a shut-down no money could be spared even for moving the books. But, maybe you could just steal some of your favorites. No one would notice.
“A pity.” She said solemnly, looking back down at her volume.
But… what if we could make more money for the library?
His voice sounded quiet and serious in her head. She put down the book and looked up at him curiously. “Have you found a way?”
I’ve had a proposal by a man of… dishonest means. He wants to ferry criminals through the library as a waypoint between this governed regions and the uncharted territories. The pay would be high. The look of surprise on her face was pretty priceless, and he would have found it funny if he wasn’t so anxious waiting for her to respond. Compared to his species, humans had slow brains, and he expected her to take her time with an answer.
“-Let’s do it.” She said simply, her old voice wavering with excitement.
Really?
“Yeah, really. I’m old, Crawley. I don’t have much time left to live, so I might as well do something thrilling with it.”
With one person on board, things were already looking up. And, over the following weeks Crawley found out just how invested the employees of the Gor Quasar Library were. Some wanted the place to stay open just to keep comfortable jobs, but most were as passionate about the books as Crawley. Soon, every single librarian was into the plot.
Bob was wearing his same camel hair coat the day he returned, and he brought with him five other crafts looking for asylum. Docking bay 5 had never been so full, though it was still half vacant. The criminals were mostly non-human, and varied much in appearance. One of the stand-out oddities was a being that had a little four-hooved pod for a body and a six foot eye stalk that swayed above most of the other criminals. Crawley wondered what sort of crime the fellow could have possibly committed, but of course he didn’t ask. His only interest was harboring the criminals and laundering their money through the library.
They won’t be of much trouble, will they? Crawley asked in Bob’s head. The yellow alien had a vision of the lawbreakers using books to make a fire while they stayed in the cold docking bay, and it made him fretful. “They’ll be fine.” Bob’s middling voice was full of authority. It seemed he knew all the criminals he brought in on a personal level. He trusted them, and they trusted him.
The money came pouring in as the criminals came and went quietly over the following months. The librarians couldn’t help but be a little giddy with how much they were making, but they had to be careful with how much they laundered into the library at a time. If they appeared to become too busy too rapidly, it would be very suspicious. So, they decided to be slow at first, putting through just enough to keep the library profitable. There was one big problem however; the criminals always paid in tangible money, or ‘tangimoney’, and it was stacking up quickly. So quickly that docking bay 4 had to be converted into a vault.
One of the more pleasurable things about harboring the fugitives was that a decent number of them liked to read during their stay, especially the odd creature with the long eye stalk whose nickname was simply and appropriately “Eye”. He was a regular at the library, coming and going constantly.
For the first time in hundreds of years Crawley got to be a busy librarian, pointing out books the fugitives might like, educating, and even actually letting a few regulars check out books. Eye took twenty with him on his most recent check out. Apparently he put that shifty, swaying stalk of his to good use when he wasn’t doing whatever illicit thing his kind might do.
Bob himself checked out a book from time to time. Mostly human books, but through asking Crawley’s advice, the man had become interested in the rare Hruut volumes, becoming somewhat of a fan.
Even though helping these criminals evade capture was the worst thing he’d ever done in his life, Crawley was also the most happy he’d been in a long time. Loraine appeared to be enjoying herself just as much; she waddled about the ship, so active and content that she seemed to have dropped 50 years. Life had become much more enjoyable with their new patron base.
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