revolutionaries, he felt a certain shortness of breath and worried for his
companions, who were still under guard near the ship’s berth. All the soldiers
he had seen in crossing the Viking dock were of the same stamp, green coveralls
for a uniform, a sea of green on that dockside, overwhelming the few civilians
visible. Guns everywhere. And emptiness, along the upward curve of the docks
beyond, deserted distances. There were not enough people. Far from the number of
residents who had been at Pell, in spite of the fact that there were freighters
docked all about Viking Station. Trapped, he surmised; merchanters perhaps dealt
with courteously enough—the soldiers who had boarded their own ship had been
coldly courteous—but it was a good bet that ship was not going to be leaving.
Not the ship that had brought them in, not any of the others out there.
The lift stopped on some upper level. “Out,” the young captain said, and ordered
him left down the hall with a wave of the rifle barrel. The officer was no more
than eighteen at most. Crop-headed, male and female, they all looked the same
age. They spilled out before and after him, more guards than a man of his age
and physical condition warranted. The corridor leading to windowed offices ahead
of them was lined with more such, rifles all fixed at a precise attitude. All
eighteen or thereabouts, all with close-clipped hair, all—
—attractive. That was what urged at his attention. There was an uncommon,
fresh-faced pleasantness about them, as if beauty were dead, as if there were no
more distinction of the plain and the lovely. In that company, a scar, a
disfigurement of any kind, would have stood out as bizarre. There was no place
for the ordinary among them. Male and female, the proportions were all within a
certain tolerance, all similar, though they varied in color and features. Like
mannequins. He remembered Norway’s scarred troops, and Norway’s gray-haired
captain, the disrepute of their equipment, the manner of them, who seemed to
know no discipline. Dirt. Scars. Age. There was no such taint on these. No such
imprecision.
He shuddered inwardly, felt cold gathered at his belly as he walked in among the
mannequins, into offices, and further, into another chamber and before a table
where sat older men and women. He was relieved to see gray hair and blemishes
and overweight, deliriously relieved.
“Mr. Ayres,” A mannequin announced him, rifle in hand. “Company delegate.” The
mannequin advanced to lay his confiscated credentials on the desk in front of
the central figure, a heavy-bodied woman, gray-haired. She leafed through them,
lifted her head with a slight frown. “Mr. Ayres… Ines Andilin,” she said. “A
sorry surprise for you, isn’t it? But such things happen. You’ll now give us a
Company reprimand for seizing your ship? Feel free to do so.”
“No, citizen Andilin. It was, in fact, a surprise, but hardly devastating. I
came to see what I might see and I have seen plenty.”
“And what have you seen, citizen Ayres?”
“Citizen Andilin.” He walked forward a few paces, as far as the anxious faces
and sudden movement of rifles would allow. “I’m second secretary to the Security
Council on Earth. My companions are of the Earth Company’s highest levels. Our
inspection of the situation has shown us disorder and a militarism in the
Company Fleet which has passed all limit of Company responsibility. We are
dismayed at what we find. We disown Mazian; we do not wish to hold any
territories in which the citizens have determined they wish to be otherwise
governed; we are anxious to be quit of a burdensome conflict and an unprofitable
venture. You know well enough that you possess this territory. The line is
stretched too thin; we can’t possibly enforce what residents of the Beyond don’t
want; and in fact, why should we be interested to do so? We don’t regard this
meeting at this station as a disaster. We were, in fact, looking for you.”
There was a settling in the council, a perplexity on their faces.
“We are prepared,” Ayres said in a loud voice, “to cede formally all the