Company Wars 01 – Downbelow Station

looking at it, “we can’t dislodge any more residents, or lose those upper-level

routings for the transport system. Can’t. If we can’t get support from the

Fleet… we have to take other measures. And on a major scale, we have to start

shifting population somewhere. Jon Lukas, with apologies for short notice, but

we wish you could have made yesterday’s meeting. That tabled proposal of yours…

Our on-station construction can’t handle security-risk workers. At one time you

had plans in some detail for widening the base on Downbelow. What’s the status

of those?”

He blinked, suspicious and hopeful at once, frowned at the barb Angelo had to

sling, even now. He gathered himself to his feet, which he did not need to do,

but he wanted to see faces. “If I had received notification of the situation, I

would have made every effort; as it was, I came with all possible haste. As for

the proposal, by no means impossible: housing that number on Downbelow could be

done in short order, with no difficulty… except for those housed there. The

conditions… after three years, I can tell you… are primitive. Downer labor

making pit housing, airtightened to a reasonable extent; enough compressors; and

the simplest locally available materials for the bracing. Downer labor is always

the most efficient down there; no inconvenience of breathers; but humans in

great enough numbers can replace them—field work, manufacture, clearing land,

digging their own dome shells. Just enough Pell staff to supervise and guard

them. Confinement is no problem; particularly your more difficult cases would do

well down there—you take those breathers away, and they’re not going anywhere or

doing anything you don’t want.”

“Mr. Lukas.” Anton Eizel stood up, an old man, a friend of Angelo’s and a

stubborn do-gooder. “Mr. Lukas, I must misunderstand what I’m hearing. These are

free citizens. We’re not talking about establishing penal colonies. These are

refugees. We’re not turning Downbelow into a labor camp.”

“Tour Q!” someone shouted from the tiers. “See what a wreck they’ve made out of

those sections! We had homes there, beautiful homes. Vandalism and destruction.

They’re tearing up the place. They’ve attacked our security people with pipes

and kitchen knives, and who knows if we got all the guns back after the riot?”

“There’ve been murders over there,” someone else shouted. “Gangs of hoodlums.”

“No,” said a third, a strange voice in council. Heads turned to the thin man who

had taken a seat, Jon saw, in the place he himself had vacated above. The person

stood up, a nervous, sallow-faced individual. “My name is Vassily Kressich. I

was invited to come out of Q. I was a councillor on Russell’s Station. I

represent Q. All that you say did happen, in a panic, but there’s order now, and

the hoodlums have been removed to your detention.”

Jon drew a breath. “Welcome to councillor Kressich. But for the sake of Q

itself, pressures should be relieved. Population should be transferred. The

station has waited a decade on the Downbelow expansion, and now we have the

manpower to begin it on a large scale. Those who work become part of the system.

They build what they themselves live in. Does the gentleman from Q not agree?”

“We need our papers cleared. We refuse to be transferred anywhere without

papers. This happened to us once, and look at our situation. Further transfers

without clear paper can only add to our predicament, taking us further and

further from any hope of establishing identity. The people I represent will not

let it happen again.”

“Is this a threat, Mr. Kressich?” Angelo asked.

The man looked close to collapse. “No,” he said quickly. “No, sir. Only I—am

speaking the opinion of the people I represent. Their desperation. They have to

have their papers cleared. Anything else, any other solution is what the

gentleman says—a labor camp for the benefit of Pell. Is that what you intend?”

“Mr. Kressich, Mr. Kressich,” said Angelo. “Will everyone please settle

themselves to take things in order. You’ll be heard in your turn, Mr. Kressich.

Jon Lukas, will you continue?”

“I’ll have the precise figures as soon as I can have access to central comp. I

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