Company Wars 01 – Downbelow Station

“Go?” Kreshov asked when silence lingered.

“Go,” Mazian said softly, dismissing them.

Signy pushed back and moved, first after Sung, past Mazian’s own security at the

door, gathered her two-man escort and went, aware of others hard at her heels.

Uncertainty still weighted her conscience. She had been Company all her

life—cursed it, hated its policies and its blindness—but she felt suddenly

naked, standing outside it.

Timidity, she reasoned with herself. She was a student of history, valued the

lessons of it. The worst atrocities began with half-measures, with apologies,

compromising with the wrong side, shrinking from what had to be done. The Deep

and its demands were absolutes; and the compromise the Company had come to the

Beyond to try would not hold longer than the convenience of the stronger… and

that was Union.

They served Earth, she persuaded herself, better by what they did than the

Company agents did by what they traded away.

Chapter Three

« ^ »

i

Pell: sector white two; 1530 hrs.

The warning lights must still be on outside in the corridor. The salvage center

kept to a deliberate pace. The supervisor walked the aisles between the machines

and silenced any talk by his presence. Josh carefully kept his head down,

unfastened a plastic seal from a small, worn-out motor, dropped it into a tray

for further sorting, dropped clamps into yet another tray, disassembled the

components into varied categories, for reuse or recycling according to wear and

type of material.

There had been, since the original com announcement, no further word from the

screen on the forward wall. No discussion was allowed after the initial murmur

of dismay at the news. Josh kept his eyes averted from the screen, and from the

station policeman at the door. He was more than three hours past his shift’s

quitting time. They should all have been dismissed, all those on partial. Other

workers should have arrived. He had been here over six hours. There was no

provision for meals here. The supervisor had finally sent out for sandwiches and

drinks for them. There was still a cup of ice on the bench in front of him. He

did not touch it, wishing to seem completely busy.

The supervisor stopped a moment behind him. He did not react, did not break the

rhythm of his actions. He heard the supervisor move on, and did not look to see.

They did not treat him differently from the others here. It was his own troubled

mind, he persuaded himself, which made him suspect they might be watching him in

particular. They were all closely supervised. The girl by him, a solemn,

slow-moving child and ever so careful, was doing the most complex job of which

she was capable, and nature had cheated her of much capacity. Many here in the

salvage center were of that category. There were some who entered here young,

perhaps to seek a track up through the job classifications, to gain elementary

mechanical skills and to go higher, into technical positions or manufacture. And

there were some whose nervous behavior indicated other reasons for being here,

anxious, obsessive concentration… strange to observe the symptoms in others.

Only he had never been a criminal as they might have been, and perhaps they

trusted him less for that. He cherished his job here, which kept his mind busy,

which gave him independence… quite as the sober girl beside him cherished her

place, he thought. At first, in his zeal for demonstrating his skill, he had

worked with feverish quickness; and then he saw that it upset the child beside

him, and that distressed him, because she could not do more, could never do

more. He compromised then, and did not make his efficiency obvious. It was

enough to survive. It had looked to be enough for a long time.

Only now he felt sick to his stomach and wished he had not eaten all his

sandwich, but even in that matter he had not wanted to seem different from those

about him.

The war had gotten to Pell. Mazianni. The Fleet was at hand.

Norway, and Mallory.

He did not think some thoughts. When the dark crowded him, he worked the harder