“I doubt he’ll ever admit that, Speaker Kellum.”
Kellum refilled their glasses and raised his in a toast. “I think you’re right, Captain Kett.”
“I’m right about a lot of things. Now, let’s get to the trade negotiations.”
On her pad, she called up her list of ships, the star map of Confederation planets as well as runs to the Ildiran Empire. Rlinda also delivered her report about clan Duquesne and their skymining work on Belliros. “So far, so good,” she said. “Maybe other clans will take a chance and get back into skymining.”
“Still no sign of the hydrogues?” Del asked.
“No sign. Everything quiet and peaceful.” Like a graveyard, she thought.
* * *
After making her well-considered dinner plans, she made her way back to her quarters and found that Tasia and Robb’s suite was open across the hall. Jess Tamblyn and Cesca Peroni were inside, chatting with the others.
Cesca had been the Speaker for the Roamer clans during the height of the Elemental War. She and Jess had both been infused with the deadly power of the wentals, but that force was drained out of them, and now they had come here, where they intended to devote their efforts to teaching children.
“The comet school is going to be called Academ,” Jess said. “The excavations already stripped out a lot of the viable ices, leaving empty tunnels and chambers.”
Tasia turned to Rlinda and announced, “We’re going to stay here at Newstation awhile and work with my brother inside the comet. Gotta make sure it’s an appropriate school for Xander.”
“I won’t mind flying the Curiosity myself again,” Rlinda said, then turned back to her own quarters. “Keep talking for as long as you like. Speaker Kellum is meeting me at the most expensive restaurant aboard Newstation.” She crossed her beefy arms over her chest. “I warned him I’m hard to impress when it comes to fine dining, and I hope he surprises me.”
Her stomach growled in anticipation, and the others laughed. After so many years of stress, she was glad the human race could build a new golden age, unharrassed by primal forces that intended to kill them.
Yes, times were good. She just wished BeBob could be here with her.
Chapter Thirteen
Elisa Enturi
As they surreptitiously returned to the Meyer system, Elisa rode with Garrison in the Workhorse. The blood-red dwarf star looked like an angry eye.
In the pilot seat, Garrison tried to appear relaxed, but she could tell he was tense. “Coming in on this vector, we’ll stay behind Meyer. Rendezvous won’t detect our arrival, so we can take our time to scan for those drifting modules.”
Elisa shook her head. “That was perfectly serviceable equipment. Only a fool would have discarded them because of pride or stupidity.”
“My father is a stubborn fool,” Garrison said without even a hint of a smile. “That’s not an opinion; he’s proved it again and again.”
She had wanted to take an Iswander Industries’ ship to locate and retrieve the drifting modules, but Garrison insisted that the Workhorse had all the necessary ID codes as well as the detailed navigational paths in and around the asteroid cluster. Elisa had agreed for her own reasons, knowing that if she signed out a company vessel, there would have been documentation left behind, paperwork to fill out. This way was cleaner.
Garrison wanted to help her get those modules back—modules already paid for with clan Reeves funding, modules that Olaf Reeves had just thrown away. He would be too proud to ask for a refund of the money, and that worked to Elisa’s advantage. If she and Garrison could retrieve them, she could surreptitiously place the modules back into service and sell them to other customers.
After leaving here several days ago, she had been furious with Olaf, and she hadn’t thought much more about Garrison, dismissing him along with his Luddite family. Yes, she had found the young man intriguing, and his stories about clan activities were unsettling but exotic.
Olaf Reeves, though, was a real piece of work, the antithesis of everything Lee Iswander stood for in trying to modernize the clans and bring them in as a lucrative and influential part of the Confederation. Clan Reeves wanted to crawl back under a rock—literally. Olaf didn’t deserve Iswander’s modules, didn’t deserve the tools that civilized people had to offer.
She and Garrison would sneak in and take them back.
Not long after she had flown back home to Earth, Garrison had found her again in the same bar, sipping another glass of the expensive New Portugal wine. He spotted her like a targeting computer locking its sights, and he came over, his face filled with grim determination as well as an expectation of shared camaraderie. His anger and annoyance had not diminished.
She had taken a sip and waited for him, raising her eyebrows. “I thought your father would lock you in your room and punish you with extra chores.”
“My father locked me up in many ways, but I left Rendezvous and clan Reeves.” He sighed. “I have to look forward, and my father’s dreams are all backward.”
She gave him a smile. “In that case, I’ll buy the drinks this time.”
That night, they had concocted the scheme to retrieve the perfectly intact modules Olaf had discarded at Rendezvous. “Are you sure he wasn’t just blowing off steam? Trying to make a point?” Elisa asked. “After we left, he could have changed his mind and put them to use.”
“Never,” Garrison said. “He wouldn’t let his fingers be soiled by technology from Earth, and he certainly wouldn’t make life easier for his clan members, even though they supposedly share his dream.”
“So those expensive modules will just keep drifting around the asteroid belt like wreckage?”
Garrison had leaned forward, sliding the wine glass aside. “No, because we’re going to go retrieve them—you and I. I know how to find them.”
She was intrigued. “Why would you do that?”
He put his elbows on the table. “Because then your Mr. Iswander will see that I’ve got worthwhile skills, and he’ll find something else for me to do.”
Elisa considered. “Maybe he will at that.”
When the Workhorse arrived in the remote location, Elisa studied scans of the rubble dispersed around the dull red star. “This system has absolutely nothing of interest. Why would Roamers bother with a bunch of rocks when there are so many other planets to colonize?”
“Our ancestors were aboard the generation ship Kanaka, which left Earth with all the others three hundred and fifty years ago. After traveling aimlessly for more than a century, Meyer was the first system the Kanaka reached—and it was this place or nothing.”
“Quite a disappointment, I would imagine,” Elisa said.
“We tried to make the best of it. Some of the colonists established a foothold here in the asteroids, while the Kanaka set off again and kept searching. This was before we had the Ildiran stardrive. Roamers have always learned to make do.” He turned to her. “But I’m tired of making do. Let’s make some success.”
“You and I think along the same lines,” she said.
As the clunky Workhorse eased its way toward the asteroid cluster, Garrison plotted possible trajectories for the likeliest places where the modules would have wandered. He only needed two tries.
“I see them.” He zoomed in on a group of reflective shapes that were too geometrical to be natural rocks. “They’re still drifting together.”
“Then it’ll be easy,” she said. “The collapsed modules can fit in the auxiliary cargo compartments of the Workhorse, and we’ll haul them out of here.”
“Not quite so simple as that,” he said. “We still have to retrieve them—and keep our heads down so the others don’t see us.”
Elisa kept a wary eye on all the bright clan Reeves ships working in the main part of the cluster. The discarded modules had drifted far enough that they were distant from the central operations.
Shutting down his engines and running lights, Garrison went to the back compartment where he b
egan donning the components of his exosuit. Elisa watched him move with easy habit, but she wasn’t sure how to help him check the seals. “You’re going out there yourself to round them up?” she asked.
He looked at her in surprise. “Of course. How else do we get them?”
“I thought the Workhorse had grappler arms or something.”
“It’s much easier to do it myself, with my own hands.” His expression suddenly changed. “Oh, you’re not accustomed to working outside in space!”
“No, never done it.”
He laughed. “I’ve spent half of my time in a suit since I was ten years old. He finished placing his chest plate and attaching the life-support pack.
“Then I suppose you know what you’re doing. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Stay inside and man the comm and the piloting controls. Hold us in position.” Garrison gave her another encouraging smile, then attached his helmet. “I think that’s all, if you’re not used to working in a suit.”
After he cycled through the airlock, she returned to the control deck and watched him jet around outside. The dim red sun offered little illumination, but she could see his suit lights. When he found the modules, he activated locators so she could track them. Working alone, he clipped tethers and nudged the large packages back toward the Workhorse. As the collapsed modules drifted closer, he swooped in and opened the lower cargo bay to guide them inside one at a time.
She was amazed to watch Garrison work out in the vacuum with as much ease as if he had been swimming in a pool or walking through a park. In less than an hour, he had loaded one module after another, bringing all sixteen aboard the cargo bay.
Elisa felt a great sense of satisfaction, knowing these modules would go back on the Iswander account, and her boss would certainly be happy. She was about to begin the test run of her prototype sky hotel, Cloud Nine. Four surplus modules just like these had already been shipped off to Qhardin, along with the assembly crew. As soon as she returned from this errand, she would lead her first four volunteer guests to Cloud Nine. If the idea worked, she could build more sky hotels, an entirely separate income stream for Iswander Industries.…
Finished, Garrison cycled back through the airlock. He removed his helmet and began to decouple the components, leaving only the slick form-fitting black singlesuit that he wore underneath. “See, I told you it could be done.”
“That was easier than I thought,” she said.
Garrison used a small polymer towel to scrub his damp hair and wipe perspiration off his face and neck. “That isn’t often the case.”
Unexpectedly, the Workhorse’s comm chimed an alert, and the thin face of young Dale Reeves appeared on the screen. “Attention, unidentified ship. Please state your intentions.”
Garrison glanced at Elisa. “I hoped no one would spot us.”
Dale continued, “This is a Roamer complex, and we will defend ourselves.”
With a flicker of obvious dread, Garrison went to the screen. “Would you defend yourself against your own brother, Dale? I have no doubt that’s what Father would tell you to do.”
The other man looked surprised. “He left me in charge. I told him you’d come back, and now you’re here, skulking around. I know he can be obstinate, but let’s talk this out.”
Garrison’s face darkened. “I don’t think so, Dale. You heard him, you saw what he did. He’s a fool, locked in his personal orbit. I don’t believe his decisions are best for our clan, but I won’t try to overthrow him as clan leader. I’ve had enough. I’ve got my own life to live. Put him on, and I’ll tell him myself.”
“He’s not here. He and Bjorn went off to Theroc to plead his case with the King and Queen.” Dale’s voice took on an odd tone. “But if you go, you’ll be leaving me here with him. He intends to train me for your position as clan leader. I don’t want that, Garrison!”
“Neither did I,” he said, then straightened. “We’re just here retrieving the modules—equipment already paid for, but our father discarded them. I’m still Roamer enough to know that you don’t leave viable salvage drifting in space for someone else to find. Elisa and I are taking them back to Iswander Industries.” He swallowed hard and then leaned closer to the screen. “He’s grinding you under his heel, Dale. He’ll destroy you if you stay too long. Come with us. We’ll both find a job at Iswander Industries. You’ve got many Roamer skills.”
Elisa could see that the younger man was far too weak to stand up for himself. In fact, Dale looked panicked by the suggestion. “This is my clan, my family ... my home. We’ll rebuild Rendezvous, you’ll see.”
Garrison sighed. “Then I wish you the best of luck. I have to follow my own Guiding Star.” He terminated the transmission before his brother could plead with him further.
Elisa looked over at him. She still wasn’t sure she trusted him entirely, but he had demonstrated exceptional skills as a worker. He had many talents.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Garrison activated the Workhorse’s engines away from the Meyer system, turning his back on Rendezvous.
Chapter Fourteen
Daniel
The last time he’d passed through a Klikiss transportal, Daniel had been groggy, after Peter and Estarra stunned him and dumped him on a far-off planet just to get him away from the clutches of Chairman Wenceslas. This time, Daniel stepped through the shimmering wall of his own volition. It was his choice—his desperation. He had to save his people.
He felt a jarring dimensional twist through his mind and his bones. One instant he was on the moist, lush hillside, and the next he was in dry, cool air. The scenery was brown and barren, with few patches of dry grass. He stood on a concrete apron with eight small prefab outbuildings nearby. This was a tiny complex, but at least there were people. He saw three workers in jumpsuits kneeling in the dirt, planting vegetables in a small garden. A tall, heavyset woman tinkered with the engines on an overland flier.
They looked up as Daniel stepped through the transportal. He paused to catch a breath, smelling the distinctively different tang in the air, a powdery sourness from blown dust. He adjusted his wide-brimmed cap and raised a hand as he hurried forward. “I need help! I have urgent business with King Peter.”
The men in the garden stood, and the woman glanced up from the disassembled flier. They looked at him curiously. No one seemed in a rush.
Daniel ran toward them. “Can’t you hear me? I need help.”
That finally got their attention. One of the men with his knees and hands covered in mud from the garden plot, wiped his palms on his thighs. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I came from Happiness,” he said. “You wouldn’t know it. We’ve been off the network for some time. I’m Daniel.” He drew a breath, swallowed hard, but he knew what he had to do. “You might know me as Prince Daniel, from the Hansa.”
“The Hansa?” said the female mechanic. “Ain’t been no Hansa for nine years.”
“Then you know how long I’ve been gone,” Daniel said. “My people are in trouble. I have to get to King Peter and Queen Estarra. They’ll know who I am. I need to request assistance from the Confederation.”
“So, what kind of clothes are those?” said one of the other men from the garden. These people didn’t seem to understand urgency. Hearing the noise outside, two more workers emerged from a small administration building, and a larger metal-walled warehouse.
Daniel looked at them, saw that all of the men were cleanshaven. He touched his thick beard, the long hair that curled down to his shoulders. He hadn’t shaved in several years, and Serene only occasionally trimmed his hair. He realized his floppy hat and simple clothes must give him a peculiar appearance. “I know I must look odd to you. Happiness was settled by the neo-Amish—these are their ways.”
“Do you even know where you are?” asked the flier mechanic.
“I know I have to get to Theroc. I need to speak to the King and Queen as soon as possible. Can you help me?”
/>
“You’re on Auridia, young man, and the Roamer complex of Newstation orbits above us. As far as getting to Theroc, I can shuttle you up to the station, pass along your message. Speaker Kellum will find somebody to take you to Theroc straightaway.”
Daniel looked up into the sky. “That’ll do. When can we leave?” His heart pounded. With every moment, more sporeflower pods would burst, spraying the toxic powder into the air.
The female mechanic shrugged. “Our shuttle is fueled, and I’m always looking for an opportunity to fly. I’ll take you right now. My name is Yankton, by the way.” She looked around to the others at the outpost. “If you have a shopping list for me, get it together right away. This young man looks anxious.”
“Looks like he needs a haircut and a bath,” said the man who, ironically, was covered with mud from the garden.
Yankton gestured to a battered shuttlecraft that sat in a paved landing area a hundred meters from the transportal wall. “Get yourself aboard.”
“I appreciate the effort,” Daniel said to the pilot. When he’d vanished from the Hansa, the Roamers were outlaws led by Speaker Cesca Peroni. “Do you think somebody will help?” he asked in a small voice.
“Roamers like to help,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you what you need.”
* * *
Having been among the low-tech neo-Amish for so long, Daniel held on as the shuttle rose into the sky. The seats rattled and rumbled, but Yankton casually leaned back, letting one arm dangle over the armrest while she piloted with one hand. When the veils of clouds cleared away and the atmosphere thinned to midnight-blue darkness at the edge of orbit, he looked at the stars unhindered by sky. Out there, he spotted the flurry of traffic, the glitter of engine burns, as well as the huge wheel of a space station. “Roamers built that?”
The pilot shrugged. “Roamers always build big things, but other people tend to underestimate us.”
When Yankton docked at an available bay in Newstation, she called for a welcoming committee. Daniel’s urgent request had already been sounded throughout the station, and clan members were discussing a solution. Daniel hoped they had something for him as soon as the shuttle arrived.
Whistling Past the Graveyard Page 8
