area of their habitat, and there to a parting. “Go,” he told them. “Go and mind
you be careful. Don’t scare the men with guns.”
He had expected them to run, scampering free as they had begun to do about him.
But one by one they came and wished to hug him and Elene, with tender care, so
that the parting took some little time.
Last, Satin and Bluetooth, who hugged and patted them. “Love you,” Bluetooth
said. “Love you,” said Satin, in her turn.
No word, no question about the dead one. “Bigfellow was lost,” Damon told them,
although he was sure by Bluetooth’s burn that they had been somewhere involved
in the matter. “Dead.”
Satin bobbed a solemn agreement “You send he home, Konstantin-man.”
“I’ll send,” he promised. Humans died, and did not merit transport. They had no
strong ties to this soil, or to any soil, a vague distressed desire toward
burying, but not at inconvenience. This was inconvenient, but so was it to be
murdered far from home. “I’ll see it’s done.”
“Love you,” she said solemnly, and hugged him a second time, laid her hand most
gently on Elene’s belly, and walked away with Bluetooth, running after a moment
to the lock which led to their own tunnels.
It left Elene standing with her own hand to her stomach and a dazed stare at
him. “How could she know?” Elene asked with a bewildered laugh. It disturbed him
too.
“It shows a little,” he said.
“To one of them?”
“They don’t get large,” he said. And looking past her, to the docks, and the
lines of troops. “Come on. I don’t like this area.”
She looked where he had, to the soldiers and the more motley groups which ranged
the upcurving horizon of the docks, near the bars and restaurants. Merchanters,
keeping an eye on the military, on a dock which had been taken away from them.
“Merchanters have owned this place since Pell began,” she said, “and the bars
and the sleepovers. Establishments are shutting down, and Mazian’s troops won’t
be happy. Freighter crews and Mazian’s… in one bar, in one sleep-over—station
security had better be tight when any of those troops go on liberty.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “I want you out of this. Running out here,
going out into that corridor with the Downers—”
“Where were you?” she shot back. “Down in the tunnels.”
“I know them.”
“So I know the docks.”
“So what were you doing up in four?”
“I was down here when the call came; I asked Keu for a pass and got one, got his
lieutenant to cooperate with dock offices; I was doing my job, thank you; and
when the call came through Fleet com, I got Vanars up there before someone else
got shot.”
He hugged her gratefully, walked with her around the turn into blue nine,
another barren vista of troops stationed at intervals and no one in the
corridors.
“Josh,” he said suddenly, dropping his arm.
“What?”
He kept his pace, headed for the lift, gathered his papers from his pocket, but
they were India troops, and they were waved through. “Josh got picked up.
Mallory knows he’s here and where he is.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Mallory agreed to release him. They may have let him loose already. I’ve got to
check comp and find out where he is, whether still in detention or back at his
apartment”
“He could sleepover with us.”
He said nothing, thinking about that.
“Which of us,” she asked, “is really going to sleep easy otherwise?”
“Not much sleep with him around either. We’ll be jammed up in that apartment. As
good have him in bed with us.”
“So I’ve slept crowded. So it could drag on more than one night. If they get
their hands on him—”
“Elene. It’s one thing if station handles a protest. There are things in this,
personal things with Josh…”
“Secrets?”
“Things that don’t bear the light. Things Mallory might not want out, you
understand me? She’s dangerous. I’ve talked to multiple murderers less
cold-blooded.”
“Fleet captain. It’s a breed, Damon. Ask any merchanter. You know there’re