“I talked to a merchanter a few moments ago, who talked about merchanter
attitudes; spoke about places out in the Deep, good for sitting and waiting.
Thought comes to me, do you know, that there are other stations of a kind, more
than Pell left; chunks of rock in unlikely places… things merchanters know
about. Maybe Mazian; surely Mazian. Just places where ships know to go. So if
there are storms… there are havens, aren’t there? If it comes down to any bad
situation, we do have some choices.”
“You’d leave?”
He shook his head. “Never. Never. But there’s still a chance of talking the boys
into it, isn’t there? We persuaded one to Downbelow; work on your youngest; work
on Elene… she’s your best hope. She has friends out there; she knows, and she
could persuade Damon.” He pressed her hand. Alicia Lukas-Konstantin needed Pell,
needed the machinery, equipment a ship could not easily maintain. She was wedded
to Pell and the machines. Any transfer of her entourage of metal and experts
would be public, doomsday headlined on vid. She had reminded him of that. I am
Pell she had laughed, not laughing. She had been, once, beside him. He was not
leaving. In no wise did he consider that, without her, abandoning what his
family had built over the years, what they had built, together. “It’s not
close,” he said again. But he feared it was.
ii
Pell: White Dock: Lukas Company offices; 1100 hrs.
Jon Lukas gathered the pertinent papers together, glared up at the men who
crowded his dock-front office. Glared for a long moment to make the point. He
laid the papers down on the front of the desk and Bran Hale gathered them up and
passed them to the rest of the men.
“We appreciate it,” Hale said.
“Lukas Company has no need of employees. You understand that. Make yourselves
useful. This is a personal favor, a debt, if you like. I appreciate loyalty.”
“There’ll be no trouble,” Hale said.
“Just stay low. Temper cost you your security clearance. You won’t exercise that
temper working for me. I warned you. I warned you when we worked together on
Down-below…”
“I remember,” Hale said. “But we were run off, Mr, Lukas, for personal reasons.
Konstantin was looking for an excuse. He’s changing your policies, tearing up
things, disarranging everything you’ve done. And we tried, sir.”
“Can’t help that,” Jon said. “I’m not down there. I’m not running things. And
now you’re not. I’d rather Jacoby could have gotten you off with something
lighter, but there you are. You’re in private employ now.” He leaned back at the
desk. “I could need you,” he said soberly. “Figure on that too. So it could have
turned out worse for you… station life now, no more mud, no more headaches from
bad air. You work for the company at whatever comes up and you use your heads.
You’ll do all right”
“Yes, sir,” Hale said.
“And, Lee…” Jon looked at Lee Quale, a level, sober stare. “You may be standing
guard on Lukas property from time to time. You just may have a gun on your
person. And you don’t fire it. You know how close you came to Adjustment on that
account?”
“Bastard hit the barrel,” Quale muttered.
“Damon Konstantin runs Legal Affairs. Emilio’s brother, man. Angelo’s got it all
in his pocket. If he’d had a better case he’d have sent you through the mill.
Think about the odds the next time you cross the Konstantins on your own.”
The door opened. Vittorio slipped in, ignoring his instant frown of
discouragement. Vittorio came up beside his chair, leaned close to his ear.
“Man came in,” Vittorio whispered. “Off a ship named Swan’s Eye.”
“I don’t know any Swan’s Eye,” he hissed back. “He can wait.”
“No,” Vittorio persisted, leaned close a second time. “Listen to me. I’m not
sure he’s authorized.”
“How, not authorized?”
“Papers. I’m not sure he’s supposed to be on station at all He’s out there. I
don’t know what to do with him.”
Jon drew a quick breath, suddenly cold. An office full of witnesses. A dock full
of them. “Send him in,” he said. And to Hale and the others: “Go on outside.