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The stars are also fire by Poul Anderson. Part nine

“The hell it isn’t,” Dagny said in English. “Stand fast, querida. I’m so sorry. But we’ve got work ahead, tough work, and I doubt it can be done on the com lines. Give me a couple of hours. Meanwhile, can you stall? Keep this quiet. Ask the medics to. Notify Haugen but ask him to sit tight. Collect what information you can but don’t let any of it out. Okay?”

Again Rita gathered her strength together. “Yes, I hope I shall be able … to persuade Seflor Haugen and the others, and keep the staff here under control, and—For two or three hours, perhaps yes.”

“Brave lass.” Dagny smiled into the grief. “I’m on my way, then. Later we’ll mourn Jaime. Right now we have things to do for him. Hasta luego.”

She flicked off and called the mayor of Tychopolis. His phone program recognized her and put her straight through to him in his own chamber. “Hallo. Not up yet? Well, move. Listen, I need immediate transport to Tsukimachi. Immediate. A suborbital if you can get me one. Yes, these bones can still take that kind of boost. Otherwise the fastest jet the local constabulary have available, and I’m not talking about a Meteor or an Estrella. Til accept nothing less than a Sleipnir.”—

“Never mind why. A good many lives may depend on it. That’s enough for now, and you will please keep it to yourself. Pull rank, use my name if need be, but get me the craft.”—

“I’ll meet you at the port, TrafCon office, in case we need to browbeat those people, in exactly one hour. It’d be nice if the boat had some breakfast aboard for me, but what it must have is readiness to launch. Okay? See you.”

She blanked and left her bed. Inalante would swing it. He was powerful, he was able, and he was a son of Kaino.

In the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, she began to feel the aches and drag of weariness. Sleep had been in short supply these past few daycycles. She’d hoped for peace till 0900 or 1000 this mornwatch, because after that all hell might be letting out for recess. (Which it already had, in a shape she hadn’t expected.) At her age, you didn’t bounce back after just a catnap. Had she ever been that young? It seemed impossible.

The mirror showed eyes that appeared unnaturally large and bright in the bony pallor around them. Anson Guthrie had remarked a while ago that she looked more ethereal every time he saw her. But she bloody well couldn’t afford to be, not yet, maybe not anytime this side of the ash box. After weighing whather physician had told her, what her experience suggested, and what the situation was, she took a medium-strength diergetic. That, with coffee and food and will power, ought to get her through the next hours without too high a price to pay afterward.

Somewhat recharged, if a little chilled, she made herself presentable in warm coverall and half-boots. A hooded cloak should keep her from being noticed; few people were out this early. She recorded a noncommittal message for callers, took the bag she kept packed for hasty departures, and went forth.

Hudson Way stretched quiet. The ceiling simulated blue sky, stray clouds still faintly pink from sunrise, strengthening light which set aglitter the dawnwatch moisture in the duramoss underfoot. The air blew and smelled like an appropriate breeze. The ambience was a bit too perpetually pretty for her, but most residents in this neighborhood were Terran and had voted to have it thus. There were other places she could go to pretend, in full surround, that she walked by a gray seat. and its drumroll surf.

At the corner of Graham she boarded the fahrweg and rode out to the spaceport, changing lines twice. Fellow passengers were sparse and paid her no attention. She had freedom to think.

Poor Rita. Poor kids, though Leandro was at the university and partly estranged from his father, while Pilar had been in school on Earth for two or three years. Poor Jaime, above all. He’d lived with such gusto, when his job didn’t exhaust or infuriate him. He’d been her opponent more often than not, but a fair one, playing for what he believed was right, right not just for Eajth but for the Moon.

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Categories: Anderson, Poul
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