Company Wars 01 – Downbelow Station

brother’s. Or maybe he was thinking of other things, lost friends. People

probably dead. He was not going to talk; Josh knew that. They spent long hours

in silences, in their separate pasts. He thought of his own happier dreams,

pleasant places, a sun-lit road, dusty grain fields on Cyteen, people who had

loved him, faces that he had known, old friends, old comrades, far from this

place. The hours were filled with it, the long, solitary hours each of them

spent in hiding, the nights, with music from Ngo’s front room jarring the walls

most of the hours of mainday and alter-day, numbing, constant, or saccharine and

pervasive. They stole sleep in the quiet times, lay listlessly in others. He did

not intrude on Damon’s fancies, nor Damon on his. Never denied the importance of

them, which were the best comfort they had in this place.

One thing they no longer considered, and that was either of them turning himself

in. They had Lukas’s face before them, that death’s-head forewarning of Mazian’s

dealing with his puppets. If Emilio Konstantin was still alive as rumor said…

privately Josh wondered if it was good news or bad. And that too he did not say.

“I hear,” Damon said finally, “that maybe some of the Mazianni crew are on the

take. I wonder if they could be bribed for more than goods. If there are holes

in their new system.”

“That’s crazy. It’s not in their interests. It’s not a sack of flour you’re

talking about. Ask that kind of question and we’ll have them on us.”

“Probably you’re right.”

Josh pushed the bowl back and stared at the rim of it They were running out of

time, that was all. In the sealing of white… they were sealed too. All it took

now was a sweep starting from the dock or from green one, checking in those who

were willing to surrender, shooting down those who were not.

When they had white in order… it came. And it was beginning over there. Was

already underway.

“I’d have to make the approach to the Fleet,” Josh said finally. “The troops

would more likely recognize you than me. As long as I stay away from Norway

troops…”

Damon was silent a moment, perhaps weighing odds. “Let me try another thing. Let

me think about it. There’s got to be a way onto the shuttles. I’m going to check

out the dock crews, find out who’s working there.”

It was not going to work. It had always been a mad idea.

ii

Merchanter Finity’s End; deep space; 1/6/53

Another merchanter in. Arrivals were not unusual. Elene heard the report and got

up from her couch, walked Finity’s narrow spaces to see what Wes Neihart had on

scan.

“What’s the deal here?” a thin voice asked in due time. The freighter had jumped

in at a respectful distance, fully cautious; it would take her a while to work

her way in out of the jump range. Elene sat down at the second seat at the scan,

feeling after the cushion. Her thickening body vexed her subconsciously; it was

a nuisance she had learned to live with. The baby was kicking, an internal and

unpredictable companionship. Quiet, she thought at him, winced and concentrated

on scan. Other Neiharts moved in to see.

“Someone going to answer me?” the newcomer asked, much closer now.

“Give me id,” said the voice of another ship. “This is Little Bear, merchanter.

Who are you? Keep coming; just give us id.”

The answer time passed, still shorter now; and other merchanters had started to

move. There was a gathering bunch of observers on Finity’s bridge.

“Don’t like this one,” someone muttered.

“This is Genevieve out of Unionside, from Fargone. Rumor has it we’ve got

something going on here. What’s the situation?”

“Let me take it,” another voice broke in. “Genevieve, this is Pixie II. Let me

talk to the old man, all right, young fellow?”

There was a silence beyond what should have been. Elene’s heart started pumping

overtime, and she swung about with an awkward and frantic wave at Neihart, but

the general alert was already on its way, Neihart passing the signal to his