He didn’t raise his voice, but the last syllable had teeth.
The supervisor looked from the ship’s officer to Thach, looked down, and began to sidle away.
“You have no right to do this!” Thach said.
“Sir, please,” Ran said. “I can’t make policy. I don’t doubt you’ve got the right to do whatever you’re doing, but I’ve got to do my duty until one of my superiors changes that duty. Take it up with them, sir. Please.”
“You’re on Nevasan soil,” said the uniformed officer. “The ship may be extraterritorial, but this building isn’t. I could arrest you for insult to an official in the performance of his duties.”
Thach hadn’t made the threat, but he waited intently for the result of it.
Ran nodded. “Yessir,” he said. “And then your diplomats and Earth’s diplomats would discuss it, and it wouldn’t do anything about the question of Nevasa recruiting transients shipped on labor contracts—which is the only thing that matters to us standing here. But I expect you to do your duty, as I’m doing mine.”
Ran’s face wore an expression of sad calm. Mr. Thach glared at him.
Thach gave the amplifier to the uniformed officer with almost the crispness of a blow. “Come along,” he snapped as he stepped to the door.
Ran opened it quickly. Thach turned and added over his shoulder, “We’ll be back!”
“Yessir,” said Ran. He didn’t doubt it in the least.
Ran closed the door. His ratings grinned at him in delight. The ground-staff personnel had disappeared, helping chivvy passengers back into their dormitories.
Ran could understand how the locals had felt, trapped in the gray area between patriotism and loyalty to their employer. They’d made the best decision they could. In the larger scheme of things, it didn’t matter a hoot that their decision had made life for a few of the Empress of Earth’s crew harder.
But if they thought Ran Colville wasn’t going to see that every one of the bastards on duty tonight at the Transient Block was fired, they were dreaming.
“What do we do when they come back, sir?” Mohacks asked. It was a real question, not a nice way of saying, “We’re shit outa luck when they come back.”
Ran touched his transceiver to the doorjamb again. “Block,” he said, “get ground transport for the full Third Class list here at once. I’m authorizing overtime for the drivers and support people.”
He looked at his ratings and shivered with sudden relaxation. “What we do,” he said, “is make sure that all contract passengers are back aboard Earth territory before that gentleman can organize a better try. It’s after office hours, after all. We ought to be able to manage it.”
He took a deep breath and added, “Anyhow, we’ll give it a good try.”
Without a pause, Ran went on, “Block, patch me through to the Empress. The Purser had better have Third Class ready, because the passengers are going to be back, ready or not!”
* * *
It was three hours before Ran got back to the Empress.
The trouble with a white uniform, Ran thought as he strode into the Embarkation Hall, is that it really shows grime. Fatigues were the proper garb for directing trucks loaded with Third Class passengers around a detour, but the first part of the job that called him to the Transient Block had required all the swank he could muster.
As it turned out, he should have stopped to change instead of coming straight to Commander Kneale to report. Kneale was in the Embarkation Hall, where nearly a hundred passengers were processing already, even though it was a full twelve standard hours before the Empress undocked. Ran was a lot dirtier than he’d realized until he reached the hall’s bright lights. Passengers gave him nervous, hunted glances, and the commander looked concerned instead of furious.
“Trouble?” Kneale murmured when he was close enough to Ran that they wouldn’t be overheard. The two officers stood by a pilaster, looking out the broad gangway toward the terminal’s lighted concourse. Nevasa wasn’t Earth—all the human colonies together weren’t Earth—but Con Ron Landing passed a tremendous quantity of commerce in its own right