Miliko’s hand; but she did not let go his. They walked down the hill together,
to meet the legendary captain… stopped at speaking range, all too conscious of
the rifles now much closer to them.
“Who’s in charge of this base?” Porey demanded.
“Emilio Konstantin and Miliko Dee, captain.”
“Before me?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Receive a decree of martial law. All supplies at this base are confiscated. All
civilian government, human and native, is suspended. You will turn over all
records of equipment, personnel, and supplies immediately.”
Emilio made an ironic sweep of his free hand, offering the domes, plundered
domes. Porey would not be amused, he reckoned. Certain hand-kept books had
disappeared too. He was afraid, for himself, for Miliko… for the men and women
of this base and others; not least of all for the hisa, who had never seen war.
“You will remain on this world,” Porey said, “to assist us in whatever ways are
necessary.”
Emilio smiled tautly and pressed Miliko’s hand. It was arrest, nothing less than
that. His father’s message, rousing him out of sleep, had given him time. About
him were workers who had never asked to be put in this position, who had been
volunteered for this service. He relied less on their silence than on the hisa’s
speed. It was even possible that the military would put him under more direct
restraint. He thought of his family on the station, the possibility of Pell
being evacuated, and of Mazian’s men making deliberate ruin of Downbelow itself
in a pullout, destroying what they did not want Union to get their hands on,
impressing all the able-bodied into the Fleet. They would put guns in hisa’s
hands if it would get them lives to throw against Union.
“We’ll discuss the matter,” he answered, “captain.”
“Arms will be turned over to my troops. Personnel will submit to search.”
“I suggest discussion, captain.”
Porey gestured sharply. “Bring them inside.”
The troops started for them. Miliko’s hand clenched on his. He took the
initiative and they walked forward on their own, suffered themselves to be
spot-searched and brought up the ramp into the glare of the ship’s interior,
where Porey waited.
Emilio stopped at the upper end of the ramp, with Miliko beside him. “We have
the responsibility for this base,” he said. “I don’t want to make public issue
of it. Very quietly, I’ll comply with reasonable needs of your forces.”
“You are making threats, Mr. Konstantin.”
“I’m making a statement, sir. Tell us what you want. I know this world. Military
intervention in a working system would have to take valuable time to establish
its own ways, and in some cases, intervention could be destructive.”
He stared into Porey’s scar-edged eyes, well read that this was a man who did
not like to be defied. Who was personally dangerous.
“My officers will go with you,” Porey said, “to get the records.”
Chapter Five
« ^ »
i
Pell: sector white two; 1700 hrs.
Police had come in, quiet men, who stood by the door and talked to the
supervisor. Josh saw them from under his brows and kept his head down, his
fingers never missing a turn of the piece he was removing. The young girl by him
had stopped outright, nudged him hard in the ribs.
“Hey,” she said. “Hey, it’s police.”
Five of them. Josh ignored the blows in his ribs and she only jabbed him the
harder.
Above them the com screen came on. The light caught his eyes and he looked up
for an instant at another general announcement, for the return of limited
freedom of passage in green section. He ducked his head and resumed work.
“They’re looking this way,” the girl said.
They were. They were making gestures in this direction, Josh shot a look up and
down again, up once more, for troops had come in, armored. Company soldiers.
Mazianni. “Look,” the girl said. He set himself back to work. The silken voice
of central continued over the com, promising that it was all safe. He stopped
believing it.
Footsteps were in the aisle, coming from the other side, heavy steps and many of
them. They reached him and stopped behind him. He kept working in a last,