way, but he’s bought by the market. You want something unloaded or loaded, want
a blind eye turned—he can arrange it.”
Jon stared at his son, this product of a year’s contract, his desperation to
have an heir. It was not, after all, surprising that Vittorio knew such things.
“Excellent,” he said dryly. “You can tell me about it. Maybe we can trace
something. Dayin, our holdings at Viking—we should look into them.”
“You aren’t serious.”
“I’m very serious. I’ve engaged Hansford. Her crew is still in hospital. Her
interior’s a shambles, but she’ll go. They need the money desperately. And you
can find a crew…through those contacts of Vittorio’s. Don’t have to tell them
everything, just sufficient to motivate them.”
“Viking’s the next likely trouble spot. The next certain trouble spot.”
“A risk, isn’t it? A lot of freighters have accidents with things as they are.
Some vanish. I’ll hear from Konstantin over it; but I’ll have the out… an act of
faith in Viking’s future. A confirmation, a vote of confidence.” He drank the
wine with a twist of his mouth. “You’d better go fast, before some flood of
refugees hits us from Viking itself. You make contact with the pipeline there,
follow it as far as you can. What chance has Pell got now but with Union? The
Company’s no help. The Fleet’s adding to our problem. We can’t stand forever.
Konstantin’s policies are going to see riot here before all’s done, and it’s
time for a changing of the guard. You’ll make that clear to Union. You
understand… they get an ally; we get… as much as we can get out of the
association. That second door to jump through, at worst. If Pell holds, we just
sit still, safe; if not, we’re better off than others, aren’t we?”
“And I’m the one risking my neck,” Dayin said.
“So, would you rather be here when a riot finally breaks through those barriers?
Or would you rather have a chance to make some personal gain with a grateful
opposition… line your own pockets? I’m sure you will; and I’m sure you’ll have
deserved it.”
“Generous,” Dayin said sourly.
“Life here,” Jon said, “isn’t going to be any better. It could be very
uncomfortable. It’s a gamble. What isn’t?”
Dayin nodded slowly. “I’ll run down some prospects for a crew.”
“Thought you would.”
“You trust too much, Jon.”
“Only this side of the family. Never Konstantins. Angelo should have left me
there on Downbelow. He probably wishes he could have. But council voted
otherwise; and maybe that was lucky for them. Maybe it was.”
Chapter Eight
« ^ »
Pell: 5/23/52
They offered a chair. They were always courteous, always called him Mr. Talley
and never by his rank—civ habit; or maybe they made the point that here Unioners
were still counted rebels and had no rank. Perhaps they hated him, but they were
unfailingly gentle with him and unfailingly kind. It frightened him all the
same, because he suspected it false.
They gave him more papers to fill out. A doctor sat down opposite him at the
table and tried to explain the procedures in detail. “I don’t want to hear
that,” he said. “I just want to sign the papers. I’ve had days of this. Isn’t
that enough?”
“Your tests weren’t honestly taken,” the doctor said. “You lied and gave false
answers in the interview. Instruments indicated you were lying. Or under stress.
I asked was there constraint on you and the instruments said you lied when you
said there wasn’t.”
“Give me the pen.”
“Is someone forcing you? Your answers are being recorded.”
“No one’s forcing me.”
“This is also a lie, Mr. Talley.”
“No.” He tried and failed to keep his voice from shaking.
“We normally deal with criminals, who also tend to lie.” The doctor held up the
pen, out of easy reach. “Sometimes with the self-committed, very rarely. It’s a
form of suicide. You have a medical right to it, within certain legal
restrictions; and so long as you’ve been counseled and understand what’s
involved. If you continue your therapy on schedule, you should begin to function
again in about a month. Legal independence within six more. Full function—you