going to ran things during construction. Konstantins were always in at the last
stage, always there when the credit was about to be handed out. They had
democracy in the council, but it was dynasty in the station offices. Always
Konstantins. Lukases had arrived at Pell as early, sunk as much into its
building, an important company back in the Hinder Stars; but Konstantins had
maneuvered and gathered power at every opportunity. Now again, his equipment,
his preparation, and Konstantins in charge when it reached a stage when the
public might notice. Emilio: his sister Alicia’s son, and Angelo’s. People could
be manipulated, if the Konstantin name was all they were ever allowed to hear;
and Angelo was past master at that tactic.
It would have been courtesy to have met his nephew and his wife when they came
in, to have stayed a few days to trade information, or at the least to have
informed them of his immediate departure on the shuttle which had brought them
down. It would also have been courtesy on their part to have come at once to the
domes for an official greeting, some acknowledgment of his authority at the
base—but they had not. Not even a com-sent hello, uncle, when they landed. He
was in no mood for empty courtesies now, to stand in the rain shaking hands and
mouthing amenities with a nephew with whom he seldom spoke. He had opposed his
sister’s marriage; argued with her; it had not linked him in to the Konstantin
family: with her attitude, it was rather a desertion. He and Alicia had not
spoken since, save officially; not even that, in the last several years… her
presence depressed him. And the boys looked like Angelo, as Angelo had been in
his younger days; he avoided them, who probably hoped to get their hands on
Lukas Company… at least a share of it, after him, as nearest kin. It was that
hope, he was still persuaded, which had attracted Angelo to Alicia: Lukas
Company was still the biggest independent on Pell. But he had maneuvered out of
the trap, surprised them with an heir, not one to his taste, but a live body all
the same. He had worked these years on Downbelow, reckoning at first it might be
possible to expand Lukas Company down here, through construction. Angelo had
seen it coming, had maneuvered the council to block that. Ecological concerns.
Now came the final move.
He accepted the letter of his instruction to return, took it just as rudely as
it was delivered, left without baggage or fanfare, like some offender ordered
home in disgrace. Childish it might be, but it might also make a point with
council… and if all the stock in the mill was soaked on the first day of the
Konstantin administration here, so much the better. Let them feel shortages on
station; let Angelo explain that to council. It would open a debate in which he
would be present in council to participate, and ah, he wanted that.
He had deserved something more than this.
Engines finally activated, heralding lift. He got up, searched up a bottle and a
glass from the locker. He received a query from the shuttle crew, declared he
needed nothing. He settled in, belted, and the shuttle began lift. He poured
himself a stiff drink, nerving himself for flight, which he always hated, drank,
with the amber liquid quivering in the glass under the strain of his arm and the
vibration of the ship. Across from him the Downers held each other and moaned.
ii
Pell Detention: red sector one: 5/20/52; 0900 hrs.
The prisoner sat still at the table with the three of them, stared at the guard
supervisor in preference, his eyes seeming focused somewhere beyond. Damon laid
the folder on the table again and studied the man, who was most of all trying
not to look at him. Damon found himself intensely uncomfortable in this
interview… different from the criminals he dealt with in Legal Affairs—this man,
this face like an angel in a painting, this too-perfect humanity with blond hair
and eyes that gazed through things. Beautiful, the word occurred to him. There