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"Um." Fu
In her own bloodthirsty way, Qiwi sounded like Trixia. "Mama hasn't said so straight out, but they may be deadlocked." She looked at him sideways, a child pretending to conspiracy. "You're an owner, Ezr. You could talk to—"
"Qiwi!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I didn't say anything. I didn't say anything!"
She let him be for a hundred seconds or so, then started on her schemes for making profit off the Emergents, "if we live through the next few Msecs." If the Spider world and the OnOff star hadn't existed, the Emergents would have been the find of the century in this end of Qeng Ho space. From watching their fleet operations, it was clear that they had some special cleverness with automation and systems pla
Ezr let the words wash over him, barely heard. Another time, he might have lost himself in concentration on the work at hand. No chance on this shift. Plans that spa
The shift passed without further insight. He'd be off in fifteen hundred seconds. If he skipped lunch, he had time to change clothes...time to ask for an appointment with Captain Park. In the two years subjective that he'd been with the expedition, he had never presumed on his Family co
Qiwi's grin was as insolent as ever. "Tell 'em straight, Vinh. This has to be an armsman operation."
He waved her silent, then noticed that his call hadn't gone through. Blocked? For an instant, Ezr felt a pang of relief, then saw he was preempted by an incoming order...from Captain Park's office. "To appear at 5.20.00 at the Fleet Captain's pla
Qiwi Lin Lisolet was no longer in evidence; what a wise little girl.
The meeting was not with some staff officer. Ezr showed up at the Fleet Captain's pla
Park acknowledged Ezr's brace with a brusque wave of his hand. "At ease, Apprentice." Three hundred years ago, when Ezr had been five, Captain Park had visited the Vinh Family temp in Canberra space. His parents had treated the fellow royally, even though he wasn't a senior ship's master. But Ezr remembered more the parkland gifts from what seemed a genuinely friendly fellow.
At their next encounter, Vinh was a seventeen-year-old would-be apprentice and Park was outfitting a fleet to Triland. What a difference. They had spoken perhaps a hundred words since, and then only at formal expedition occasions. Ezr had been just as glad for the anonymity; what he wouldn't give for a return to it now.
Captain Park looked as though he had swallowed something sour. He glanced around at the members of the Trading Committee, and Vinh suddenly wondered just whom he was angry at. "Young V—Apprentice Vinh. We have an...unusual...situation here. You know the delicacy of our situation now that the Emergents have arrived." The Captain didn't seem to be looking for an acknowledgment, and Ezr's "yessir" died before it reached his lips. "At this point we have several courses of action possible." Again a glance at the Committee members.
And Ezr realized that Qiwi Lisolet hadn't been spouting complete nonsense. A Fleet Captain had absolute authority in tactical situations, and normally a veto vote on strategic issues. But for major changes in expedition goals, he was at the mercy of his Trading Committee. And something had gone wrong with the process. Not an ordinary tie; Fleet Captains had a deciding vote in cases such as that. No, this must be a deadlock verging on a mutiny of the management class. It was a situation the teachers always mumbled about in school, but if it ever happened, then just maybe a junior owner would become a factor in the decision process. Sort of a sacrificial goat.
"First possibility," continued Park, oblivious of the unhappy conclusions rattling around in Vinh's head. "We play the game the Emergents propose. Joint operations. Joint control of all vehicles in this upcoming groundside mission."
Ezr took in the appearance of the Committee members. Kira Pen Lisolet sat next to the Fleet Captain. She was dressed in the Lisolet-green uniform her Family affected. The woman was almost as small as Qiwi, her features sober and attentive. But there was an impression of raw physical strength. The Strentma
Ezr's attention slid to another familiar face. Sum Dotran. Management committees were an elite. There were a few active owners, but the majority were professional pla
"Second possibility: Separate control structures, no jointly crewed landers. As soon as practicable, we reveal ourselves directly to the Spiders"—and let the Lord of Trade sort the greater wi
"Third possibility: We pack up our temps and head back to Triland."
Vinh's stu