Alliance Rising

by C. J. Cherryh

  Giovanna’s eyes darted from one to the other of them. “The EC is not going to like it.”

  “All they have to do is conduct business as usual, and we assure supply gets to them. We’ll be talking about rates and fairness. But it’s in nobody’s interest to harm a station—or to lose a ship. We need the ports. Stations need the ships.”

  “It’s a risk.”

  “How many times are you willing to order your helm to push that button, knowing previous fixes on that unit have failed? That’s a risk, Captain. We’d like to say we helped, we’d like to cite Firenze as one of ours, and prove the point—that we aren’t First Star ships or Farther Star ships. We’re merchanters and we’re taking care of each other, and together we can handle a big bill. Once you’re up and running, you’ll pay in when you can. And go on paying in. In the long run, we’ll have funds to keep any given ship in repair—we keep the station shipyards in good operation, and we keep cargo moving where it needs to go.”

  “And you’ve got signatures. How many here?”

  “If you agree, you’re the first at Alpha. Of the sixty-three Families, we have twenty-four signatory and a handful still considering, this side of Pell, twenty-two beyond. And we have the Quens’ Estelle over at Viking and Mariner, doing exactly what we’re doing here in the First Stars, gathering signatures, with Dublin and Fame working over in the far Beyond. We have the finance, with the ships who’ve already signed, to help you. We can do it. We will do it, if you say the word.”

  A long silence. Giovanna’s face was white. “Say I agree . . . What happens then?”

  “To start with, a consult on your ship’s problem. I’d be happy to send over several of my techs and engineers—I think other ships might, as well, to put hands on the system on Firenze and estimate what’s needed. We’ll talk Venture into expediting a system. The system will need to be ported in, then installed, which means a long stand-down, and your nav team will need to be familiar with a new board before you move again.”

  “We can’t survive the stand-down. We are flat, sir. We are beyond flat, we are deep in.”

  “Part of the loan, if you’re willing. You’ll repay at zero interest any layover charges above the basics we negotiate for you with station, plus your dues, proportional to ship size and class, over whatever time it takes.”

  A long, dubious stare. “Dues. Who’s the banker?”

  Smart woman. Key question.

  “None of us and all of us. The dues are setasides in each ship’s reckoning, ten percent of profit, ship’s honor to keep that sum ready to be used on projects voted on by four or more Families in the area—so we can make fast, necessary moves. Four signatory Families are here, at this table. You have to join our number, agree to pay in your ten percent once you’re running, and we’ll negotiate with station to provide you a reasonable living until your ship is operable. What your job costs, plus living expenses, is an interest-free loan repayable in addition to the dues, at additional five percent of profits. There will be no claim or lien against your ship. It’s on the honor system. We’ll negotiate the resumption of your routes or see that Firenze finds another berth—we have every interest in having you paying in right along with us, and we’ll be watching over the case to be sure things happen as they should. What it costs is never more than fifteen percent, and if we can build the fund up, we may be able to lower that a bit.”

  Giovanna was a tough woman. She lifted a knuckle to take away just a little moisture from one eyelid. The jaw was set. Hard.

  “I’ll take it. Dio mio, I’ll take it, damn sure. Abrezio may lock us out for agreeing to this, but if we can move, it’s his loss. You want access out there, well, she’s open, if you can get to her. How much can I tell my crew?”

  “Keep it strictly to yourself for, oh, until maindark. I want Abrezio to hear it from me first. I’m going to talk to him after we’re done here, on excuse of the knock they just gave on Finity’s locked hatch. I’ll talk about that and get around to the other thing—one leads logically to the next. But after maindark, share it with your people, and then whoever you wish. I intend to tell Mr. Abrezio everything in a fairly friendly way. If we can get enough local ships signatory to what we’re doing, we’re going to negotiate with Alpha about rates and standards. The station has its own problems, and I’m not sure the EC is their best solution, either. But that’s Abrezio’s call. If he decides to challenge the EC, one solution that would serve both merchanters and station is to turn Rights of Man over to a combination of Families, including yours, and operate her as a merchanter, which would give Alpha and its merchanters range enough to go most anywhere, but, as someone said—do you really want to take on a ship built by the people that can’t fix yours?”

  Giovanna gave a derisive snort.

  “Still,” JR said, “that’s something the station has to decide for itself, with its own alliances. Our business is protecting merchanter interests.”

  Giovanna’s lips went to a thin line, then she laughed and laughed, and went red in the face. “God, oh, God, Finity, yes, you got us. I got to call Family council, but you, Captain Neihart, you got five ships with you at the moment.” She offered a broad, strong hand across the table, a handshake jarring the teacups. “And if you need us, we got a hundred forty-seven of us on the Strip—with friends up and down. We’re at the Fairwinds Hotel. Bar’s crap, but you’re welcome.”

  “Same to Firenzes at the Olympian. Saturn, Critical Mass and Outbound are the bars.” JR stood up and shook Giovanna’s hand. Min and Sanjay and Asha added welcome-ins to their own assigned facilities.

  Likely by tomorrow maindark there’d be some romances and sleepovers, doors opened, drinks poured, probably way too many of them. Captains had their ship’s dignity to uphold, but it was a very emotional, very tightly lidded excitement behind that reserve. The relief of a woman who no longer had to risk a hundred forty-nine lives on a nav system that—he could guess—was suffering from a sensor problem, a processing problem, and outright physical deterioration. Whatever it was wasn’t going to get better in successive jumps. Firenze was one of the earliest purpose-builts, and God only knew what else would need an update. Easier, likely, to replace the system entirely, from sensor arrays that told the ship where it was to nav computer that told the ship where it was going.

  That meant transferring funds from Alpha to Venture, for a system that, if replacing sensors and system and boards, could come in together and be installed a lot faster than piecemealing it and trying to get it to talk. It was the smart answer, but an expensive one. Alpha’s engineers had ducked that choice. Alpha’s engineers wanted to keep station admin happy, and admin, who had been spending all its credit on Rights, was not wanting a large expense.

  Admin might look quite favorably on an option that took that problem off its books. Particularly since Rights, that extremely expensive mast ornament, had some ghosty issue of its own.

  Dare one figure that Alpha’s engees were no better at assembling FTL systems than they were at analyzing a nav system, and that all their assurances weren’t making Right’s exotic systems talk to each other any better than Firenze’s antique ones were doing?

  He shook hands with Min and the others, said, “I’m going to be visiting admin. My crew will track me. But stay alert.”

  “Absolutely,” Min said. Oldest ally, Min, among the purpose-builts. Little Bear was a generation younger than Firenze, but she’d had two centuries of upgrades. Mumtaz was all new, and Nomad was middling-so.

  What they also were was steady. There were two stations the plan had looked for local resistance. One was Cyteen, with an admin they weren’t approaching yet; and the other was here, in the still-beating heart of EC authority.

  Which was easier to deal with? He wasn’t sure. Benjamin Abrezio was reported as a decent administrator. But he’d also been the recipient of gifts from Sol, and still received his orders—dated as they might
be—on the ancient Stream.

  It was certain that when their merchanters’ alliance did make clear what they’d come to say, the six-year Stream would be reporting it to Sol and Earth.

  Not a happy reception there, he was well sure.

  But come mainday turnover, when the bars were again at their maximum breakfast-supper load, Giovanna Galli was free to drop information that would get attention from admin, and raise expectations among the merchanters—who weren’t called that name, here on Alpha, but merchanters they were, all the same.

  It was time.

  Chapter 5 Section iii

  A message from Niall was waiting for Ross when he arrived back at his assigned room. Jen had had breakfast with them, helped get Fallan to his room, then headed off with a wink.

  Matchmaking.

  Ross grinned to himself as he pushed the button, then froze.

  Niall wanted to see him. Just him. The guy who’d just spent the night with a Finity girl.

  Immediately. Room B-257.

  “How’s Fallan?” was Niall’s opening remark, as he waved a hand at a chair. Ross sat.

  “Not bad. Not good, either. He lost a few minutes. Worries him.”

  “It would. I’ll talk to him.”

  Silence, while Niall stared at him. Then: “Ask it, Ross.”

  His heart bumped up a notch—not guilt. But not guilt-free either, and he wanted to know the depth of the problems they had. “So what happened with Abrezio? Are we in trouble?” It could involve fines. Big ones. “I don’t see as we were doing anything.”

  Niall shook his head. “He apologized to us.”

  “Apologized.” Station authorities didn’t call you in to apologize.

  “Took responsibility, but said it was the blue-coats acting solo. Unauthorized.”

  “Well, that’s crazy.”

  “I suspect there’s more to it. Chief Jameson’s not a bad sort. Wouldn’t expect it of him. Which means it was likely an order from Hewitt. But that’s station’s problem. Not our business. Abrezio said it won’t happen again.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  Niall shrugged. “I got the feeling he wasn’t pleased. And ultimately, he is in charge.”

  Ross said, wryly. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure the entire Strip will be relieved.”

  “He asked about the meeting.”

  Abrupt vector shift. This . . . this was why he’d been called down.

  “So. What did you say?”

  “The truth. What he said. They’ll know. They’ll be cross-checking every record their cameras made, comparing every angle, looking for the smallest suspicious twitch. You were in there, after. You actually talked to JR Neihart.”

  Did I say that? Ross wondered on the instant. But didn’t ask, before Niall asked: “What did he say? Assume everything matters.”

  Ross shook his head. “Nothing. Just talked with his people. Had a beer, with the rest of us. Said we should just relax and wait for the blue-coats to sort it out. Kind of kept the lid on. A lot of Santiagos got caught there, too. They were at a back table, all worried. He told the bartender serve them drinks, on him, and the bar did. Not everybody was happy, but most were. A couple came up to the bar.”

  “Mad?”

  “Curious. Ashlan and Mary T and I, we just kept quiet and listened.”

  “Did he say, about Fallan?”

  “He didn’t know, then.”

  “You think?”

  “I didn’t hear anybody say it. I didn’t find out until I got your call. We’d gone back to Rosie’s to listen for the gossip, but it was just buzz about the blue-coats and them shutting the doors, and about what the Finity captain said, what he didn’t say, and what he might have said, if the blue-coats hadn’t shut us down. Same as everywhere. About JR, a little. Questions what he’s up to.”

  “You visited Fallan.”

  “Straightaway, yes, sir, I did. Have you seen him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He was looking better this morning.”

  “You didn’t stay with him. You were with a girl last night.”

  He felt his face a little hot. “He said go. And she was waiting outside. Finity captain had sent her . . . fourth captain, not senior. She knew about Fallan. Her Fourth knew him from pusher days. And you’d said—you’d said find out things. So—I did.” He refused to be embarrassed. He had left Fallan only when Fallan told him to. “I put myself on call. Any alarm on those sensors and I’d have gotten the call. I was right friggin’ next door. Sir. I was doing what you ordered.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “In principle, sir. I’d have gotten a message. I’d have been over there lightspeed. He said go. You know how he is. I can’t argue with him. He was threatening to stick labels on the medbot. That’s Fallan. He wanted me to get out, so I got.”

  “Girl’s name’s Jennifer Neihart.”

  “Yessir. Jen.”

  “Senior captain’s niece. Daughter of his sister.”

  “She didn’t say that.”

  “Chance meeting?”

  “She was sitting outside. Waiting. She had a gift for Fallan, from Fourth Captain. Big bottle. Pell whisky.”

  “Spendy. What did Fallan say?”

  “This morning? He was happy. Real happy. He’d hit it off with the woman, long time back.”

  “Fourth on Finity. And the Senior’s niece. That’s heavy attention, that.”

  “Fallan’s attention. We all know what he is. Everybody on Alpha knows he’s special.”

  “Except some damn blue-coat.”

  “Except that. And it was a damn disgrace he got knocked down. All up and down the Strip, people say so.”

  “You were all up and down the Strip?”

  “Jen said. Jen said her Fourth was real mad, that word’s passed, and there’s a petition going up and down the Strip, stating it was the blue-coats’ fault, and it was pusher crew got tagged. Don’t know if it was Finity that started it.”

  Niall sat there, frowning. “We should have. The admin call—I guess I made it pretty clear what happened. And we did get an apology from admin. And an offer.”

  “Offer.”

  “From the station.”

  Dammit, he didn’t want to have messed up Niall’s situation with Abrezio. That was their livelihood and their future. But he didn’t like the notion that what he’d seen and hoped for a moment—was just because he’d been a fool. A fool pulled completely off course by a pretty face and a bottle from the richest ship going.

  Fallan had told him to go. He had already been going, on his own judgment, when he’d run into Jen.

  Am I that great a fool? He had to wonder.

  “So,” he asked Niall, “what does station say?”

  “Just—what I told you beforehand. Finity’s upsetting admin, no stretch of the imagination. And they’re hinting a whole lot that’s not going to happen, you know it’s not, Ross.”

  “Rights.”

  “Isn’t going to happen. So Fallan’s been approached and you have. You—maybe coincidentally with Fallan, but it’s also possible you were the first objective, since you were so friendly with them in the bar. And since you’re young and . . .”

  “I wasn’t friendly with them . . .”

  “Well, you certainly were in the sleepover.”

  He couldn’t dispute that.

  “Finity’s proposing what’s not going to happen, Ross. They know it. We’d like to get past that. Find out what’s really on their minds, not just their propaganda.”

  “We. We, as in Galway? Alpha? Or the EC?”

  “A little of everybody. Abrezio’s not the villain in this. He’s had to deal with Sol’s priorities for a long time: he needs to keep his reserves for maintenance, he wants to keep both interests happy—yes, he’d like
to have the ship upgrades, the ring-dock . . . the works. But our situation’s different. We don’t have the volume the Farther Stars are moving. It’s not economical for us.”

  “We could run to Pell and back—if Rights could run at all.”

  “And where from here? Beta? That’s out. The old stations? They’re chancy places leading nowhere useful, at the range we have to use. We sit at the head of a highway that leads pretty well to Sol, and Pell had just as soon Sol never travels it faster than sublight. Pell won’t help us. Pell has no percentage in improving Sol’s port of entry into everything it’s got. Pell’s allied to Venture—Venture’s colluded with them from the beginning. But the rest of the First Stars—Pell had just as soon see lifeless. Deserted. A problem for Sol to resurrect step by step. That’s not in our interest.”

  “What Jen said—yeah, sure, we talked about it—was that the last thing Finity wants is any port shut down. That merchanters can’t make profit without ports.”

  “I’d like to think that. But truth is, profit comes with growth and while the other end of space is growing, this one isn’t. There was a whole lot of suggestion and damned little substance in that speech of Neihart’s.”

  “Which was sort of interrupted. Maybe it was going to what Jen said. Maybe he’s got a proposal from Pell, something Abrezio should hear.”

  “Maybe. But why didn’t he just go to Abrezio and lay it out? What else did this Jen say?”