pulled them out of his pocket and leaned forward as she did, passing them into
her extended hand across the desk, close, that close to touching. She leaned
back easily, looked through them, lingered over them.
“But these are new,” she said. “Except for the title papers, of course.” She
felt of the older paper, the title, itself false. “You know this kind of paper
gets traded on the market. Has to get from one station to the other, after all;
and across docks, and I know places where you can get it. Don’t you, Captain?”
“I’m legitimate.”
“So.” She passed the papers back to him, and he thrust them quickly back into
his pocket, his fingers gone cold. “So. Linked up with Dublin Again, are you? A
very respectable operation. That does say something for you. Unionsider.”
“I plan to operate here. On the Alliance side.”
“Oh, relations are very good with Union at the moment They’re supplying ships
and troops all along the Line. We have no quarrel with Union origins. You plan
to stay here, do you? Operate as Dublin’s pipeline out of the Sol trade?”
“I don’t know how things will work out.” He stepped slowly through the argument,
aware of maneuvering on the other side, not understanding it. Mallory was not
taken in. Was prodding at him, to find some provocation.
“Your certification comes through us,” she said. “We’ve got a problem, Captain.
We’ve got Mazianni activity between us and Sol, into the Hinder Stars. Does that
bother you?”
“It bothers me.”
“They’d like to cut us off, you understand. It’s a lot of territory to patrol.
And they win, simply by scaring merchanters out of that run. We’ve got two
stations coming back into operation, and we’re doing what we can to keep the
zones clear. We’ll be out at the nullpoints, making sure you’re not ambushed
there. We’ve got a rare agreement on the other side of the Line. Union’s sealing
up Tripoint and Brady’s and any other point you can name.” The eyes shot up to
lock on his, abrupt and invasive. “You play the shy side of legal, do you?
Marginer. I’ll reckon you’re no stranger to the fringes. Lying off in space.
Operating out of the nullpoints. Doing trading on the side, without customs
looking on. I’ll bet you have a fine sense of what’s trouble and what’s not. A
fine sense.”
He said nothing. Tried to think of an excuse to look away and failed in that
too.
“Might stand you in good stead,” she said. “It’s a place out there—that makes
raw nerves survival-positive. We’ll be there, Captain. I really want you to know
that”
It was delivered very softly, with the same stare. It promised-he had no idea
what.
“You can go,” she said. “You’ll find the obstacles clear. But I have news for
you. Your Konstantin Company cargo is cancelled. You’ll be carrying military
cargo. You’ll be paid hazard rate. An advantage. You’ll be taking it aboard in
short order and undocking at 0900 mainday.”
“Like that?”
“Like that.”
“I thought—I was under military investigation.”
“You are,” she said. “Good evening, Captain.”
“Maybe I don’t want this. Maybe I want to change my mind.”
“Do you, Captain? I’d prefer not.”
The silence hung there. “All right,” he said. “You protect us, do you?”
“As best we can, Captain.”
Never Stevens. She never used the name. He stood up, nodded a reflexive
courtesy. Not a response: dead eyes stared into him. He turned then and walked
out, and Talley followed him into the corridor, hand-signaled a trooper who came
down the corridor to walk him out.
Down the lift and out to the ramp again, the cold of the dock-side coming as a
shock after the metal closeness of the warship. He walked down the slant past
the guard that stood there, past uniformed troops and idle, hard-eyed stares… He
reached the dockside and walked away, taking larger breaths the farther he got
from the perimeter. He felt as if he had been picked up and shaken. Dropped
hard.
He saw the Dubliners waiting for him, out by the lighted fronts of the offices.
Allison and the others. He went toward them with the consciousness that the
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