aboard who will order you to take that action—”
“Ayres can shove it,” she said. “I’ll tell you what I want for what I’ve got.
Docking privileges at Union ports and clear paper. Or maybe I let my valuable
passenger take a walk.”
“These matters can be discussed later in detail. We have a crisis on Pell. Lives
are in jeopardy.”
“You have comp experts. Can it be you can’t figure the system?”
There was another silence. “Captain. You’ll get what you want. Kindly dock under
our safeconduct if you want that paper. There’s a situation on this station
regarding native workers. They’re asking for Konstantin.”
“The Downers,” Damon breathed. He had a sudden and terrible vision of Downers
facing Union troops.
“You clear your ships back from that station, Captain Azov. Unity can stay
docked. I’ll come in on the opposite side and you see to it your ships don’t get
out of synch with your position. Anything crosses my tail I’ll fire with no
questions asked.”
“Granted,” Azov answered.
“Insane,” Graff said. “Now where’s our profit? They won’t come across with that
paper.”
Mallory said nothing.
Chapter Five
« ^ »
i
Pell: White Dock; 1/9/53; 0400 hrs. md.; 1600 hrs. a.
The dockworkers were Union troops, fatigue-clad, but in green, surreal sight on
Pell. Damon walked down the ramp toward the armored backs of Norway troops who
held the margin and guarded the access. Far across the deserted dock other
troopers stood in armor… Unioners. He passed the safe perimeter, passed through
the Norway troops, headed out that lonely crossing of the wide debris-littered
decking. Heard disturbance behind him, heard someone coming, and looked back.
Josh.
“Mallory sent me,” Josh said, overtaking him. “You mind?”
He shook his head, mortally glad of his company where he was going. Josh reached
into his pocket and handed him a spool of tape. “Mallory sent it. Josh said.
”She set up the comp keys. Says this might help.“
He took it, stuffed it into the pocket of his brown Company fatigues. The Union
escort waited for them with the troops, black-clad and silver-medaled. He
started walking again, appalled as they came closer at the sameness, the beauty
of them. Perfect humans, all of a size, all of a type.
“What are they?” he asked of Josh.
“My kind,” Josh said. “Less specialized.”
He swallowed heavily and kept going. The Union troops fell in about them,
wordlessly escorted them along the dock. Pell citizens stood, a handful here and
there, stared at them as they walked. Konstantin, he heard murmured. Konstantin.
He saw hope in some eyes, and flinched from it, knowing how little there was to
be had. There was chaos in some areas they passed, whole sections with the
lights out, with fans dead, with the stench of fire and bodies lying. G surged a
marginal amount, minor instability. No knowing what had happened in the core, in
life-support. There was a time beyond which the systems began to deteriorate
beyond recovery, when balances were too far gone. Mindless, with central out,
Pell had gone to its local ganglia, nerve centers which were not interconnected,
automatic systems that fought for its life. Without regulation and balance they
would pass out of phase… like a body dying.
They walked blue nine, where other Union forces stood, entered the emergency
ramp… dead here too, bodies they and their escort filed past in their ascent; a
long climb, from nine upward, to an area where armored troopers operated, where
they stood facing upward, shoulder to shoulder. They could go no higher; the
escort leader turned aside and took them through the door into two, into the
hall lined with financial offices. Another knot of troops and officers stood
there. One, silvered with rejuv and bearing a great deal of rank on his chest,
turned toward them. With a dull shock Damon recognized those immediately behind
him. Ayres, from Earth.
And Dayin Jacoby. If he had had a gun in his hands he would have shot the man.
He did not. He stopped there staring dead at him, and Jacoby’s face went a dull
crimson.
“Mr. Konstantin,” the officer said.
“Captain Azov?” he surmised by the signs of rank.