Company Wars 01 – Downbelow Station

least while the Fleet sorted out its own business.

“Message,” com said then. “General hail from Pell station-master to Fleet at

dock: welcome aboard and will you come to station council at earliest?”

“Europe will respond,” she murmured, and in a moment Europe’s com officer did

so, requesting a small delay.

“All captains,” she heard at last on the emergency channel she had been

monitoring for hours, Mazian’s own low voice, “private conference in the

briefing room at once. Leave all command decisions to your lieutenants and get

over here.”

“Graff.” She hurled herself out of her cushion. “Take over. Di, get me ten men

for escort, double-quick.”

Other orders were pouring over com from Europe, from the deployment of fifty

troopers from each ship to dockside, full combat rig; for passing Fleet command

to Australia’s second, Jan Meyis, for the interim; for riders of docked ships to

apply to station control for approach instructions, to come in for reattachment.

Coping with those details was Graff’s job now. Mazian had something to tell

them, explanations, long-awaited.

She went to her office, delayed only to slip a pistol into her pocket, hastened

to the lift and out into the access corridor amid the rush of troops Graff was

ordering to the dockside… combat-rigged from the moment they had gone into

station approach, headed for the hatch before the echoes of Graffs voice had

died in Norway’s steel corridors. Di was with them, and her own escort sorted

itself out and attached itself as she passed through.

The whole dock was theirs. They poured out at the same moment as troops from

other ships hit the dockside, and station security faded back in confusion

before the businesslike advance of armored troops who knew precisely the

perimeter they wanted and established it. Dockworkers scrambled this way and

that, uncertain where they were wanted: “Get to work!” Di Janz shouted. “Get

those waterlines over here!” And they made up their minds at once… little threat

from them, who were standing too close and too vulnerable compared to the

troops. Signy’s eyes were for the armed security guards beyond the lines, at

their attitude, and at the shadowed tangles of lines and gantries which might

shelter a sniper. Her detachment surrounded her, with Bihan as officer. She

swept them with her, moving rapidly, up the row of ship-berths, where a mob of

umbilicals and gantries and ramps stretched as far as the eye could see up the

ascending curve of the dock, like mirror reflections impeded only by the

occasional arch of a section-seal and the upward horizon… merchanters docked

beyond them. Troops made themselves a screen all along the route between Norway

and Europe. She followed after Australia’s Tom Edger and his escort. The other

captains would be at her back, coming as quickly as they could.

She overtook Edger on the ramp up to Europe’s access; they walked together. Keu

of India caught them up when they had passed the ribbed tube and reached the

lift, and Porey of Africa was hard on Keu’s heels. They said nothing, each of

them gone silent, perhaps with the same thoughts and the same anger. No

speculations. They took only a pair apiece of their guards, jammed the lift car

and rode up in silence, walked down the main-level corridor to the council room,

steps ringing hollowly up here, in corridors wider than Norway’s, everything

larger-scaled. Deserted: only a few Europe troops stood rigid guard here.

The council room likewise was empty, no sign of Mazian, just the bright lights

of the room ablaze to tell them that they were expected at that circular table.

“Outside,” Signy bade her escort, as the others went. She and the others took

their seats by precedence of seniority, Tom Edger first, herself, three

vacancies, then Keu and Porey. Sung of Pacific arrived, ninth among the chairs.

Atlantic’s Kreshov arrived, settled into the number four seat by Signy’s other

side.

“Where is he?” Kreshov asked finally, at the end of patience. Signy shrugged and

folded her arms on the table, staring across at Sung without seeing him. Haste…

and then wait. Pulled out of battle, kept in long silence… and now wait again to