Cherryh, CJ – Merchanters Luck

well-traveled nullpoints of Unionside had never been isolated.

He took his place at the number one board, began working through comp on silent…

They might have stood over him, put it to a contest; they declined that.

Perhaps after the station liberty, he told himself, perhaps then he could get

his bearings, mend what was broken, find a way to make his peace with them. A

ship run amiss could become a small place indeed. They wanted different air and

the noise of other living humans but themselves.

They were that close to safety; and if they could get into it, head home with a

success to their account—then they were proved, and the record was clear; and

everything might be clean again.

Then there was hope for them.

Chapter XV

… Venture system: a star with a gas giant companion and a clutter of debris

belting it and the star. And a small, currently invisible station that had been

the last waystop for Sol going outward. FTL had shut it down; Pell’s World,

Downbelow… had undercut Sol prices for biostuffs, closer, faster. A rush for new

worlds had run past it, the Company Wars had cut it off for half a century—But

there was a pulse now, a thin, thready pulse of activity,

No buoy to assign them routing: they had been warned of that. Sandor dumped down

to a sedate velocity closer to system plane than a loaded ship should—but there

was no traffic.

“Lonely as a nullpoint,” Allison muttered, beside him. “If we didn’t have

station signal—”

“Never expected much here,” Sandor said. “It’s old, after all. Real old.”

“Com’s silent,” Neill said. “Just noise.”

“Makes me nervous,” Curran muttered. “No traffic, no buoy, no lanes—can’t run a

station without lanes. They’re going to get somebody colliding out here, running

in the dark.”

“I’m going after a sandwich,” Sandor said. “I’m coming back to controls with

it.”

“You stay put,” Allison said. “Neill, see to it for all of us. Anything. Make it

fast.”

Neill slid out. Functions shunted: com and cargo to Deirdre, scan one and two to

Curran; Allison kept to her sorting of images that got to number one screens,

his filter on data that could come too fast and from confusing directions.

Nothing was coming now… only the distant voice of station.

‘We’re coming up on their reply window,” Curran said.

“Ready on that,” Deirdre said.

Neill came back, bearing an armful of sandwiches and sealed drink containers.

Sandor opened his, wolfed down half of it, swallowed down the fruit juice and

capped it. The silence from station went on. No one said anything about it. No

one said anything.

“Picking up something,” Curran said suddenly. “Lord, it’s military. It’s moving

like it.”

The image was at Sander’s screen instantly. “Mallory,” he surmised.

“Negative on that,” Neill said. “I don’t get any Norway ID. I don’t get any ID

at all.”

“Wonderful,” Allison muttered.

“Size. Get size on it.” Sandor started lining up jump, reckoned their nearness

to system center. “Stand by: we’re turning over.”

“You’ll get us killed. Whatever it is, we can’t outrace it.”

“Get me a calculation on that.” He sent them into an axis roll, cut in the

engines as drink containers went sailing, with a collection of plastic wrap,

half a sandwich and an unidentified tape cassette. “Cargo stable,” Deirdre

reported, and he reached up through the drag that tended to pull his arm aside,

kept on with the calculations.

“We can’t do it,” Allison said. “We won’t clear it, reckoning they’ll fire. I’ve

got the calculations for you—”

No word of contact: nothing. He flicked glances at the scan image and Curran’s

current position estimate… saw number three screen pick up Allison’s figures on

plot. The intersection point flashed, before the jump range.

“You hear me?” Allison asked sharply. “Stevens, we can’t make it. They’re going

to overtake.”

“They still don’t have an ID pulse,” Neill said. “I don’t get anything.”

“They’re going to overtake.”

“What do you expect us to do?” Sandor stopped the jump calculation while they

hurtled on their way. His body was pressed back into the cushion, his pulse

hammering in his ears, drowning other sounds.

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