Wanda hadn’t been wearing her respirator as she opened sections down the corridor. She put it on now.
“Is it always like this?” Ran asked, gesturing into the haze.
“No, but often enough,” she replied. Then she added, “It isn’t right to bring people here. It isn’t moral.”
Ran looked at her. “How so?” he asked. “I thought there was an ocean of ice bigger than the Pacific under this loess. In twenty years, Biscay’s supposed to be supplying food for the whole Am al-Mahdi system. Isn’t that so?”
“In twenty years, maybe,” Holly said. “Look at these people now.”
The last of the emigrants were out of sight in the yellow blur. Several figures staggered up the gangway toward the ship.
“They come from western China,” Ran said. “Do you think this is the first time they’ve seen a dust storm, Wanda?”
“I don’t think they knew—” she began.
“They signed up because they thought it was a better life,” Ran said. He was shocked at his own fierceness. “And it will be a better life, if they work at it and because somebody worked at it.”
“They thought it would be better now!” Wanda said. Their respirator-muffled faces were close together in the hatchway.
“Did you ever survey the Empress’s Cold Crew?” Ran demanded. “Did you ever ask them if they knew what sponge space was like? Because sure as God, Wanda, they didn’t know when they signed on. And we’re here because they keep the engines fed and trimmed while we ride inside the envelope. That’s worse than a dust storm, lady. That’s worse than Hell, if there is a Hell besides sponge space.”
Mohacks and a stranger in unmarked coveralls stopped at the hatchway. Wanda’s two ratings followed them up the gangway at a slight distance.
“They’re all on the trucks, sir,” Mohacks said. The Second Officer aimed her transceiver toward the receiving lens and relayed the message to Commander Kneale. Dust in the air fuzzed the IR signal.
The stranger stuck out his hand. “Tom Urdener,” he said. “Latimer Trading. We’re the contractors on this lot.”
“Why the hell didn’t you have your people in place?” Ran demanded. “You barely provided enough to drive the trucks! By the contract, our personnel aren’t responsible for the emigrants once we’ve opened the berth sections on the ground!”
“I know that,” Urdener said, “I know that. What happened is that I lost over a hundred of my staff when you radioed news that war had broken out. They’re boarding your ship right now.”
“Huh?” said Ran.
“Grantholm nationals,” Urdener explained. “Reservists, most of them. They’re going home to join their military.”
He sighed and shook his head. “We shouldn’t have hired so much of our staff from one planet, I suppose,” he went on. “But—you know, there’s nobody like a Grantholmer to keep a labor crew’s noses to the grindstone. Nobody like them at all.”
Urdener touched his forehead in a half-serious salute. “Can’t stand here gabbing,” he said. “Just wanted to apologize to you, is all.”
He headed back down the gangplank.
Ran looked at Wanda. “I’m sorry,” he said. He thought of adding something, but he couldn’t decide what to say—especially with the two ratings on Wanda’s shift staring at the officers. Mohacks had disappeared down the corridor.
“You’re right,” Wanda said. She touched the switch that shut the compartment to the outside. The hatch began to swing closed from top and bottom simultaneously.
“And Federated Earth is right,” she continued, staring out as the rectangle of yellow haze narrowed. “At home, they’re surplus population. Here they’re doing something for themselves and for mankind. Eventually.”
“I don’t like it either,” Ran said softly. He might have touched her hand if it weren’t for the enlisted personnel.
The hatch ground closed, then coughed several times to clear its seal of dust. Pressure in the compartment increased momentarily; then the ventilation fans cut to idle.
“I’ve had a pretty comfortable life,” Wanda said. She met Ran’s eyes. “I guess I don’t like having my nose rubbed in the fact that a lot of people don’t, even on Earth.”
She smiled, shifted to put her body between herself and her subordinates, and squeezed Ran’s hand.