Downbelow Station

“Private message, Mr. Konstantin?”

“I need to get crews at their jobs,” Damon said. “They’ll move at a voice they know.”

“I’m sure they would, Mr. Konstantin. But no. Stay away from com. Let our techs handle it.”

“Sir,” Josh said quietly. “May I intervene?”

“Not in this matter,” Azov said. “Keep at non-public work, Mr. Konstantin.”

Damon drew a quiet breath, walked back to the console he had left and carefully sat down. More and more troops had come in. The hisa crowded back against the walls and onto the counters, chattering soft alarm among themselves.

“Get these creatures out of here,” Azov said. “Now.”

“Citizens,” Damon said, turning his chair to look at Azov. “Pell citizens.”

“Whatever they are.”

“Pell,” Mallory’s voice came over com. “Stand by for un-docking.”

“Sir?” the Union com tech asked.

Azov signaled for silence.

Damon leaned and tried to hit an alarm. Rifles leveled and he thought better of it. Azov himself went to com. “Mallory,” Azov said, “I’ll advise you to stay put.”

A moment’s silence. “Azov,” the voice returned softly, “somehow I thought there was no honor among thieves.”

“Captain Mallory, you are attached to the Union fleet, under Union orders. Accept them or stand in mutiny.”

Again a silence. And more silence. Azov gnawed at his lip. He reached past the com tech and keyed in his own numbers. “Captain Myes. Norway refuses orders. Move your ships out a little.”

And on Mallory’s cha

“Under your orders?”

“Your choice, Mallory. Free pardon… or be hunted down.”

Dry laughter came back. “How long would I stay in command of Norway once I let Unioners on my deck? And how long would my officers or any of my troops live?”

“Pardon, Mallory. Take it or leave it.”

“Like your other promises.”

“Pell station,” a new voice broke in, disturbed. “This is Hammer. We’ve got a contact. Pell station, do you read? We’ve got a contact.”

And another: “Pell station: this is the merchanter fleet. This is Quen of Estelle. We’re coming in.”

Damon looked at longscan, that was rapidly compensating for new data, reckoning a signal two hours old. Elene! Alive and with the merchanters. He crossed the room to com, caught a rifle barrel in the stomach and staggered against the counter. He could get himself shot. Could do that, at this late hour. He looked at Josh. Elene would have been in reception of Pell transmissions that showed trouble four hours ago; two hours inbound. Elene would ask questions. If he gave wrong answers… if she got no response from known voices… surely, surely she would stay out.

Eyes tuned to scan, one man at first, and at that expression, others. Not one blip now, but a dusting of them, sent in as other input reached them. A mass, a swarm, an incredible horde of merchanters moving in on them. Damon looked, and leaned against the counter watching it come, a smile spreading across his face.

“They’re armed,” he said to Azov. “Captain, they’re long-haulers and they’ll be armed.”

Azov’s face was rigid. He snatched up a mike and patched it in. “This is Azov of Union flagship Unity, fleet commander. Pell is now a Union military zone. For your own safety, stay out. Ships which intrude will be met with fire.”

An alarm started blinking, a board flashing alarm across the center. Damon looked at the lights and his heart began to speed. White dock was warning of imminent undocking. Norway. He turned and hit that cha

“Ah, we’re just letting you know, Pell central. Warships might make quite a mess of those merchanters, armed or not. But they’ll have professional help if they want it.”

“Repeat,” Elene’s distance-delayed voice came over com. “We’re coming in for dock. We’ve been monitoring your transmissions. The merchanter’s alliance claims Pell, and we hold it to be neutral territory. We assume that you will respect this claim. We suggest immediate negotiation… or every merchanter in this fleet may well withdraw from Union territory entirely. Earthward. We don’t believe this would be the first choice of any parties involved.”

There was silence for a very long moment. Azov looked at the screens, on which blips spread like plague. The merchanter Hammer had ceased to be distinct, signal obscured by the reddening points.

“We have a basis for discussion,” Azov said.

Damon drew a long, slow breath and let it go.

ii

She came, with an escort of armed merchanters, onto the dock. She was pregnant, and walked slowly, and the merchanters about her took no chances exposing her to hazard on the wide dock. Damon stood by Josh, on the Union side, as long as he could bear, and finally risked himself and walked out, not certain whether either side would let him through to her. Rifles in merchanters’ hands leveled at him, a nervous ring of threat; and he stopped, alone in that empty space.

But she saw him, and her face lit, and merchanters moved, ordered aside left and right until their ranks drank him in and he could reach her.

Merchanter, and back with her own, and long off the solid deck of Pell. In the back of his mind had been doubt, a preparation for changes… that vanished with a look at her face. He kissed her, held onto her as she did him, afraid of hurting her she held him so tightly. He stood there with the whole horde of armed merchanters about them in a glittering haze, and inhaled the scent and the reality of her, kissed her again and knew that they had no time for talking, for questions, for anything.

“Took me quite a roundabout to get home,” she murmured.

He laughed madly, softly, looked about him and back at the Union forces, sober again. “You know what happened here?”

“Some. Most, maybe. We’ve been sitting out there… a long time. Waiting a point of no choice.” She shivered, tightened her arm about him. “Thought we’d lost it. Then Mazian did pull out, and we moved, from that moment Union’s got troubles, Damon. Union’s got to move on to Sol and they’ve got to do it with all their ships intact.”

“You can bet they do,” he said. “But don’t leave this dock. What’s got to be said, whatever talking you do with them, insist on doing here, on the dock; don’t walk into any small space where Azov can get troops between you and your ships. Don’t trust him.”

She nodded. “Understood. We’re just the edge of it, Damon; I speak for the merchanter interest. They want a neutral port the way things are going, and Pell’s it. I don’t think Pell objects.”

“No,” he said. “Pell doesn’t. Pell’s got some housecleaning to do.” He drew his first whole breath in minutes and followed her glance across the dock at Azov, at Josh standing with Union troops, expecting approach. “Bring a dozen with you and keep the rest guarding that access. Let’s see what Azov’s idea of reason encompasses.”

“The release,” Elene said firmly and softly, leaning on the table with one arm, “ — of the ship Hammer to the Olvig family; of Swan’s Eye to its proper owners; of any other merchanter ship confiscated for use by Union military. The strongest possible condemnation of the seizure and use of Genevieve. You may protest you’re not empowered to grant it; but you have the power of military decisions… on that level, sir, the release of the ships. Or embargo.”

“We do not recognize your organization.”

“That,” Damon interrupted, “rests with Union council. Pell recognizes their organization. And Pell is independent, captain, willing to afford you a port at the moment; but with means to deny it. I would hate to take that decision. We have a mutual enemy… but you would be tied up here, in long unpleasantness. And it might spread.”