some records… but we don’t really need those, do we?”
“They won’t know one name from the other,” Josh said softly, “will they?’”
“No,” he said. The adrenalin that had gotten him this far was wearing off. He
found his hands shaking; looked aside as a Unioner tech seated himself at com.
“No,” he said, rose and started over to object. Troops leveled guns. “Hold off,”
Josh said, and the officer in charge hesitated. Then Josh himself glanced aside
and stepped back. There was another presence in the doorway. Azov and his
entourage.
“Private message, Mr. Konstantin?”
“I need to get crews at their jobs,” Damon said. “They’ll move at a voice they
know.”
“I’m sure they would, Mr. Konstantin. But no. Stay away from com. Let our techs
handle it.”
“Sir,” Josh said quietly. “May I intervene?”
“Not in this matter,” Azov said. “Keep at non-public work, Mr. Konstantin.”
Damon drew a quiet breath, walked back to the console he had left and carefully
sat down. More and more troops had come in. The hisa crowded back against the
walls and onto the counters, chattering soft alarm among themselves.
“Get these creatures out of here,” Azov said. “Now.”
“Citizens,” Damon said, turning his chair to look at Azov. “Pell citizens.”
“Whatever they are.”
“Pell,” Mallory’s voice came over com. “Stand by for un-docking.”
“Sir?” the Union com tech asked.
Azov signaled for silence.
Damon leaned and tried to hit an alarm. Rifles leveled and he thought better of
it. Azov himself went to com. “Mallory,” Azov said, “I’ll advise you to stay
put.”
A moment’s silence. “Azov,” the voice returned softly, “somehow I thought there
was no honor among thieves.”
“Captain Mallory, you are attached to the Union fleet, under Union orders.
Accept them or stand in mutiny.”
Again a silence. And more silence. Azov gnawed at his lip. He reached past the
com tech and keyed in his own numbers. “Captain Myes. Norway refuses orders.
Move your ships out a little.”
And on Mallory’s channel: “You take our offer, Mallory, or there’s no port. You
can rip loose and you can run, but you’ll be number-one priority for our ships
in Union space. Or you can run join Mazian. Or you can go with us against him.”
“Under your orders?”
“Your choice, Mallory. Free pardon… or be hunted down.”
Dry laughter came back. “How long would I stay in command of Norway once I let
Unioners on my deck? And how long would my officers or any of my troops live?”
“Pardon, Mallory. Take it or leave it.”
“Like your other promises.”
“Pell station,” a new voice broke in, disturbed. “This is Hammer. We’ve got a
contact. Pell station, do you read? We’ve got a contact.”
And another: “Pell station: this is the merchanter fleet. This is Quen of
Estelle. We’re coming in.”
Damon looked at longscan, that was rapidly compensating for new data, reckoning
a signal two hours old. Elene! Alive and with the merchanters. He crossed the
room to com, caught a rifle barrel in the stomach and staggered against the
counter. He could get himself shot. Could do that, at this late hour. He looked
at Josh. Elene would have been in reception of Pell transmissions that showed
trouble four hours ago; two hours inbound. Elene would ask questions. If he gave
wrong answers… if she got no response from known voices… surely, surely she
would stay out.
Eyes tuned to scan, one man at first, and at that expression, others. Not one
blip now, but a dusting of them, sent in as other input reached them. A mass, a
swarm, an incredible horde of merchanters moving in on them. Damon looked, and
leaned against the counter watching it come, a smile spreading across his face.
“They’re armed,” he said to Azov. “Captain, they’re long-haulers and they’ll be
armed.”
Azov’s face was rigid. He snatched up a mike and patched it in. “This is Azov of
Union flagship Unity, fleet commander. Pell is now a Union military zone. For
your own safety, stay out. Ships which intrude will be met with fire.”
An alarm started blinking, a board flashing alarm across the center. Damon
looked at the lights and his heart began to speed. White dock was warning of
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