HELLBURNER
Caroline J. Cherryh
alliance-union 02

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Introduction


THE ALLIANCE/UNION UNIVERSE
When one plots, one achieves connections. Connections are the source of ideas. And when one is dealing with a real space and real stars, as I do, in my own way of working, the simple fact that stories happen within this area, say, a century or so apart, suggests that there might exist a connection, and therefore other ideas spring up, and find locations and more connections.

In such a way, both Alliance and Union were born.

I realized fairly early on that I was finding such connections, and considering the path set by other makers of universes (such as Messrs Anderson and Dickson, among others) I thought that it might be a great and good thing to write down dates and to begin to make systematic records. So I spun off a computer listing from about 2,000 to about 5,000 A.D., figuring this might give me plenty of room, decided on a few foundational (and, I believe, likely) discoveries in the sciences, and began working out how long it would take for social and political changes to result.

For I do not believe in a monolithic state. Humans have throughout history been fractious and argumentative creatures to govern, and the development of a strong merchant class has inevitably led to outlying settlements. Outlying settlements, even with good communications, differ in daily experience from the central government, and therefore differ politically. So, I reason, human beings will have their differences.

Alliance develops out of the merchant trade. The merchanters, the faster-than-light freighters, are huge ships, some of the largest being veritable spacefaring villages run by a hierachy of captains, one for each shift, and are matrilinear (but not matriarchal) due to the lifestyle. Each ship is an ethnic entity unto itself, and may have a ship-speak different than the common language. At a point within the future history, the merchanters have formed an alliance which becomes a government centred first at Pell and then at Haven.

Union begins when Earth attempts to curtail emigration and to control free movement in her colonies. Union, founded by dissident scientists and engineers, artificially augments its population to build an industrial base faster than Earth believes possible.

The third power is Earth itself. Ancient, complex, and (by Alliance and Union standards of behaviour) unstable in policy, Earth is both loved for the ideal it represents and detested for its continual political ferment. Earth frequently fails to deal with problems created by its own supranational corporations, which have, any visitor soon discovers, a great deal of political influence. Corporate feuds and maneuverings are very important to Earthbut such deals, compromises, and trade-offs unfortunately do not comprehend or care to comprehend the foreignness it is attempting to rule.

Nearly all my science fiction books exist within this future history, and I have been even-handed: some are written from the Alliance side of things, some from Unions, and a few from the viewpoint of outsiders. They were not written in any particular order, and there is no need to read them in orderas in real life, one drops into history at one's moment of birth and has to read up on what has happened. So any point of entry will do, and any order of understanding will do. The universe will still unfold itself as it should.

Heavy Time is, to date, the earliest. Hellburner comes directly after it. Alliance does not yet exist, but Union does, and the rumours of it are frightening to the merchanter captains, who have come to Earth as the motherworld and legitimate authority.

C. J. Cherryh, 1992


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Chapter 1
 ^ 
Stockholm is a city of islands and gardens, a stunningly eclectic architectural mix, from the Rigsdagshus to the 23rd century Carlberg Museum, from the restored Riddarholm Kyrka to the Academy gardens

Founded in the mid-thirteenth century, the city of Stockholm holds abundant evidence of a thousand years of Baltic sea-faring tradition, plus a lively nightlife centred in modern Gustavsholm

Ben indexed through the motile pictures and the text, the statistics about rainfall and mean average temperature which the Guide cautioned a visitor did not in any sense mean a constant temperature. Useless statistic unless one contemplated Antarctica, where a mean temperature of -57C and an average hours of sunlight only slightly better than Sol Station core meant Ben Pollard had no interest in McMurdo Base. Ben Pollard had seen a good deal of cold and dark and rock in his life. Old rock. This thirteenth century business amazed him. The whole damn human race dated itself in eighteenths of Jupiters passes about the sun, to the astonishingly recent number of about 10k such fractions, if you took the oldest cities. astex R2 out in the Belt had been a skuz old place and a friend of his had sworn it had seen better days just in his lifetime, but when Ben Pollard thought old, he thought in millions. The rock hed handled out there was old. Humankind was a real junior on those terms.

He sipped real orange juice, imported up from the blue, cloud-swirled globe you could see at any hour on channel 55, along with the weather reports anywhere in the motherwell.

Weather was a novelty. Real weather. You got weather in a station core when they were blowing cold rock down the chute. You got condensation in your spacecraft and you swore like hell and wiped and dried and tried to find the source of it. But in the motherwell condensation fell out of the sky in frozen balls or slow flakes or liquid drops depending on the low level atmospheric temperatures, and k-wide clouds threw out electrical discharges that made it a very bad notion to stand (the Guide said) at the highest point on the landscape.

Daunting thought.

The Guide said 70 per cent of the Earth was water.

The Guide said water in the oceans was 10k meters deep in places, and because it wasnt frozen, Luna's gravity pulled it up in a hump of a wave that rolled around the globe and washed at every shore it met, enough to grind up rock into beaches.

All that unfrozen water. Gaseous nitrogen and liquid water that made all that sparkle when the sun hit the wrinkles on it that the Guide said were waves.

He planned to stand on a beach and get a good close look at that unfrozen water. On a clear day, when there were no lightnings. You could do it from the station. You could be there while you were here, but vr was a cheat, you could be a whole lot of places that werent real. He wanted to stand at the edge of the ocean and watch the real sun disappear behind the real world, at which point he figured he would really believe he was standing on a negative curvature.

The Guide said some spacers got dizzy, with the horizon going the wrong direction. There were prescriptions for vertigo. There were preparatory programs. But hell, hed monkeyed around the core at R2, and stared straight at the rotation interface. That had to be worse.

The clock on the screen said: 08:43 June 14, 2324. And there was plenty of time this morning for coffee. Dress maybe by 0930h. Exams were done, the last score was going up today, but, hell, that was Interactive Reality Sampling and he had that one in his pocket, no question, no sweat. Probably set the curve: him or Meeker, one or the other: just let the udc get that score, and Stockholm was in his pocket for sure, motherwell assignment in the safest, softest spot in the service except Orlando. Stockholm was where Ben Pollard was headed, yeah! soon as the interviewers could get up to station.

Hell and away from the Belt, he was. Here you didnt jam two guys into a fifteen by six, hell, no, Sol Station and Admin? You got a whole effin fifteen by six .9 g apartment by yourself, with a terminal that could be vid or vr whenever you opted. If you qualified into the Programming track in the udc Technical Institute, you got an Allotment that afforded you 2c/d Personals per effin seven-day week, which meant oj that was real, coffee that was real, red meat that was real, if you had the stomach for it, which Ben personally didntyou lived like an effin Company exec and had a clearer conscience. And if you could get that on world posting, your tech/2 graduation rating equalled a full udc lieu-tenancy in the motherwell, with an Army first lieutenants pay to start, full grade technical/1 promotion guaranteed in a year, and access with a capital A to all the services that pay could buy. You knew there was a war out in the Beyond, but it wasnt going to get to Earth, that was what they were building that Fleet out there to stopand even if it did, nobody was going to hit the motherwell, humans just didnt do that. You were safe down there. Youd be safe no matter what.

Hed got his graduation. With Honors, he was certain of it; hed sweated his Security verifications, but theyd come through months ago, and nobody had come up with an objection; hed sailed through the Administrative Service exams four weeks ago, and the only complication in his way now was the formal interview, as soon as the personnel reps from the various agencies could get seats on a shuttle up herefunding time and some legislative hearing in Admin had had the shuttle up-slots jammed with senators and brass and aides for the last three days; but that was thinning out, thank God. The agency interviewers might turn up by the end of the week, after which time

After which he could book himself a seat for Earth on whatever assignment shook outmaybe even take his pick: Weiter had dropped him a conspiratorial word that he had three different computer divisions fighting over him, including strategic supply modeling and intelligence, and the prestigious ai lab in Geneva (which was for his personal ambitions a little too scientific and academicgive him something with a direct line to politics, God, yes. There was money in that, and a protected paycheck).

Money. A nice apartment down where you navigated a perceptually planar surface at a 300kph crawl, when he was used to thinking in kps and nanosecond intersects. Life on Earth went so much slower and death came so much later for a man who had money, brains, and position.

Hed had a partner back in the Belt, Morrie Bird, who had used to talk to him about Colorado, and cities and sunsets and Shakespeare. Bird had set a lot of personal store by Shakespeare. Bird had thought Shakespeare was important to understand. So when it had turned out of all things that he was going to the inner system, he had made it a certain point to see this Shakespeare guytranslated tapes, of course. V-vids, where you could wander around and watch the body language. And Bird had been a hundred per cent right: Shakespeare really helped you figure Earthers. Blue-skyers. People who had never felt null-g, never seen the stars all the way to foreverdifferent people, with numbers hard to figure; people who thought they had a natural right to orange juice and gravity, people who (the Guide maintained) felt the moon tides in their blood.

Getting the right numbers in a new situation absolutely mattered. On Earth air was free and ship routes and energy were what the old Earthers had fought bloody wars over. Sincerely skewed valuesbut you had to think about that two-dee surface constantly, and it was limited that way. Finite. Finite resources. Shakespeare helped you see thathelped you see how certain old Earthers in control of those resources had thought they could run your life, the same as Company execs. And how these king-types always talked about God and their rights, like the preachers on R2s helldeck, who snagged you with tracts and talked to you about free-shares in their particular afterlife and argued whether the aliens at Pell had souls. Only these old kings had been the preachers and the law and the bank.

Long way to come, from the Belt, from Company brat in a Company school learning nothing but Company numbers to figuring Shakespeare and human history. But there it was, the motherlode of all living stuff and the home of humankind back when humans had been as backward as the Downers at PellEarth was full of museums, full of artifacts, pots and tombs and old walls graffitied with stuff that was supposed to make you live forever. The Guide said so.

Most of all, it was the motherlode of information, data, old and new. And the right numbers and enough data on the systems that ran the Earth Company and the United Defense Command could make him rich; rich made a man safe, and got him most everything Ben Pollard could put a name to.

Visitors to Stockholm may be impressed with the Maritime Museum or the Zoological Garden in Haga Park

A planet that wasnt a radiation hell was a novelty. Earth with its completely outsized moon was a novelty. And life thriving at the bottom of a gravity well was a radically upside down way of thinking. Life that made good wine and food that wasnt synth, a surface where plants grew and cycled the O2 and the co2 on sunlight and dark; and habitats where animals lived. Fascinating concept, non-human things walking around where they decided to walk and looking at you with unguessable thoughts going on behind their eyes. People searched the stars for life, and there was all this life on Earth, that blue-skyers took for granted, and ate, if it didnt look too much like people.

He wanted to see a zoo. He wanted to look at a cow or a dog and be looked back at, when hed never expected to see any real thing more exotic than miners on R&R and bugs under a lab scope.

Humans had existed such a scarily short time. With this war going on in the Beyond they seemed scarily fragile.

He wished he could talk to Bird about that. Bird had had a peculiar perspective about things. He wished he could really figure out what Bird had been, or recall half that Bird had said over the years. There was so much blue-sky attitude he still couldnt get the straight of. Baroque, was the word. Curves all over their thinking, like gold angels on the old buildings, that didnt have a damn thing to do with useful

The message dot flashed on the corner of the screen.

God, it could be the interview notice. His fingers were on the Mod and the 1 to Accept Mail and the Dv and the 3 to Print faster than he could think about the motion. It said:

TECH/2 Benjamin J. Pollard
CTS/SS/udc 28 BAT 2
0852JUN14/24 SN P-235-9876/MLR
Report to fso-hq, 0930h/ref/Simons

Fleet Strategic Operations? Fleet Ops?

What in bloody hell?

MRL. Automatic log. No way to pretend he hadnt gotten the message. No way to query the co. Weiter would tell him it was a report-to, he didnt have the answer, and hed effin better answer it and find out what the Fleet wanted with a udc lad, hadnt he?

It wasnt an interview. God, no. Fleet Strategic Operations didnt need a udc programmer tech/2 with a Priority 10 for economic/ and strategic/supply modeling. Did they?

Shit, nothe damn tight-fisted legislature insisted on trying to interface the udc eidat with the Fleets Staatentek system through the ec security screen, that was what. The Fleets Staatentek tried to phone the udcs eidat 4005 to ask for available assignees, and the 4005, behind the ecs security cloak, spat up a udc Priority One assignee for a Fleet data entry post

But you couldnt ignore it. You didnt want to face the interviews with an interservice screw-up or a Disciplinary in your record. Damn the thing!

No second cup of coffee. He drank the half he had left while his fingers tapped up the station map and asked it where in hell fso-hq was on the trans system from his apartment in ti 12 for a 0930h appointment.

9:15 2 green to 14, blue to 5-99: pass required for entry.

Hell and gone from ti, and it was already 9 oclock. Ten effin minutes to shave, dress and find his copy of his rating, which clearly said udc Priority Technical/2, before the Fleet grabbed him and stuck him at Mars Base doing data entry in Supply.

He burned the beard off, pulled on his dress blues: never wear fatigues to an interservice glitch-up. He had to talk to officers, no question, before this one was straightened out, maybe all the way up the effin coc in the udc and the Fleet. It could be a long day.

Envelope from udc Technical at Geneva in the briefcase, where it belonged. He put it in his breast pocket.

Never a friggin situation without a last friggin minute complication. God, he didnt know why things like this happened to him. His interview appointment could come through at any hour, he didnt want Meeker to grab the first slotfirst effin thing he was going to do if they gave him Geneva was put the shove on that damned ec software.

He checked his watch. 0908. Five minutes to walk to the trans. Orders in his pocket. Yes. And out the door.

Trans was packed. A whole wide-eyed batch of shiny new C-ls with their entry tags and their hand-baggage occupied all the seats, and Ben clung with an elbow about a pole and punched buttons on the hand reader, running down the applicable rules on interservice transfer apps.

Wasnt any reason to sweat it. Couldnt be. Weiterd shoved him through three levels in a year He was Weiters fair-haired baby, best Weiter had ever had in the department. Him and Meeker, neck and neck all the way. No way Weiter wouldnt go up the chain for him.

Green 14. He made the transfer and lost the C-lsthank God. He got a seat, sat down and read.

Right of appeal. Ref: Administrative Appeal,Sec.14 through chain of command in service of origin.

In service of origin. Which meant the United Defense Command, which wasnt, never mind Fleet Captain Conrad Mazians performance at the UN, going to let the Fleet get its hands on whatever it wanted.

Blue line now. Institution blue. The walls outside the spex in the doors grew skuzzier and skuzzier and the air that sucked in when the doors opened was cold and smelled of oil.

Descent into hell, Ben thought. Like R2 all over again. He sat in his dress uniform and watched the scenery, dark tunnel and grim flashes of gray-blue panels and white station numbers as the trans shot past stops without a call punched. Thump of the section seals. He could almost smell helldeck, all but hear the clash of metal and the hard raucous beat of the music echoing down the deck. He smelled the peculiar taint of cold machinery and kept having this most damnable feeling of

belonging in the dark side, living on the cheap, getting by, scamming the Company cops and knowing he could always slip through the system, knowing far more about the Company computers and access numbers than the Company thought hed learned. Him and Bird.And Sal Aboujib.

Damn.

Helldeck wasnt a place youd miss. He was someone else now. Spiff uniform and a tech/2s collar pin. Clean fingersin all senses. He didnt do a thing illegitimate with the computers he worked with. He didnt know anybody who did, no, sir, didnt even dream about that h-word near the Defense Command computers.

Hed got away with it. Was still getting away with it. Hed dumped the card on R2, and it had never surfaced; hed gotten his security clearance. Hed gotten his rank. Nobody was going to screw that up. Nobody could have found anything to screw him now

5-99. The sign outside the doors said: security area. restricted. show pass.

He got up and got out in a beige, plain hallway, warmer here, thank God, it wasnt going to freeze his ass off or have him shaking when he was talking to the desk. He straightened his coat, clipped his fancy-tech reader onto his belt and walked up to the only door available, under a security array that was probably reading his respiration rate and taking notes.

He put his card in the slot: the door clicked and opened. Fleet Security occupied the solitary desk in the foyer; beyond it was a potted silk palm, an abstract picture, and another beige windowless door.

Pollard, the officer said, with no attention to the protocols in the rulebook. Or his face. Just the readout on his screen. Benjamin J. Youre carrying electronics.

Reader.

The officer held out his hand. Ben surrendered it and watched the officer turn it on and punch buttons.

Fancy.

Break his effin neck getting here and this cop-type stalled him playing games with a piece of expensive and delicate equipment. He said, Ive got an appointment at 0930.

The guard said, hq, and motioned with the back of his hand. Lieutenant Jackson.

Jackson, was it? Fleet Lieutenant. Which, in the much-argued and protested Equivalencies, was a rank just under Maj. Weiters; and one over his. Ben drew himself up with a breath, thinking, with part of his brain: Son of a bitch deep-spacer Attitude, and minded for half that breath to make an issue of interservice protocols; but the rest of his brain was still wondering if the Fleet could have any legitimate interest in him and hoping all he had was a pocket full of eidat-screwed orders. So he saluted, got a flip of the hand and walked to the inner door, that clicked open on a long bar of a desk and a sober-faced clerk who said (efficiency, at least) Lt. Pollard?

Yes. Manners. Finally. He took the offered escort to a side office. Jackson took the salute, offered him a seat. Young guy. Pleasant, serious face.

Better, he thought.

Thank you, sir.

Jackson folded his hands on the desk, Lt. PollardIm sorry to be the bearer of bad news: a friend of yours has been involved in an accident.

Friend of mine? That was a complete mental shift. He honestly couldnt think if he had a friend. Not lately. Bird was dead. Sal?

Name of Dekker, Jackson said and Ben all but said, Shit! before he remembered he wasnt in the Belt and swallowed it.

Fatal?

Serious. Hes asking for you.

For me? He was vastly relieved it wasnt Sal. Distressed if Dekkerd gotten in trouble. He didnt hate Dekker. Not really. Dekker had enlisted with him, gone off into some secret pilot training program real hot piece of equipment, Dekker had said.

Jackson said, His doctors feel it might be some help, a familiar face

He thought, Oh, God, I dont want to do this. I dont want to see the guy again I hate hospitals I dont like blood

But there it was, the brass had made a humanitarian move, no way to explain all the old business between themit could drag up too much he didnt want on record; if Dekker had killed himself in some top-secret operation he was sincerely sorry, and if he was all Dekker could dredge up for a requestwell, hell, the guy had saved his neck, sort of, back in the Belt

And cost Birds life, damn him, however indirectly.

Sorry to drop this on you, Jackson said.

Not a problem. Truth is, we werent friends.But I guess I owe him to drop over there.

Ive got a travel voucher for you.

Travel voucher.

b dock.

Oh, now, God, wait a minute b dock wasnt on Sol One, it was on an auxiliary station three and more days out, on Sol Two. Ben reached for his pocket, right then. I cant do that. Im sorry. This is a priority rating. Theres an agency officer coming for an interview this week. I cant leave.

Jackson laid an envelope on top of his. Theres a b dock shuttle leaving at 1205. Thats your travel voucher and your leave. Its already signed and cleared.

Sirthats six days even if I get a same day turnaround. He gingerly eased his letter from underneath and laid it gingerly to the side, in Jacksons view, where the United Defense Command logo showed. This is from hq at Geneva. It says Im a military priority.

This ones from Captain Keu, in this office. On a classified priority. Youre going.

Dekker isnt a friend of mine!

He listed you as next-of-kin.

Were not related! Godhes got a mother right here on the station, Astrid, Ingrid, something like that. Talk to her!

Hes in a classified program. Only certain people are approved for contact in a next-of-kin emergency. Youre it. Youre not to call anyone. Youre not to talk to anyone.

Your co will be advised simply that youre on humanitarian leave

Im udc essential personnel!

Show me an assignment.

Shit!

So youre going.

What about my interview?

Thats not in my information flow. Ill log it as a query.

Look, this is important. If I miss this slot I could wait six months!

Jackson shrugged. We all have our hardships, lieutenant.

Look, this is a screw-up. Its an absolute screw-up. God, Dekker and I dont even like each other.

Cold as a rock. I dont have that information. Transport will pick up your baggage at your quarters. Just leave it. Report to the shuttleport by 1145.

Its near 1030 right now. Its twenty minutes to quarters

Id be on that shuttle, Lt. Pollard. When you get to b dock, report directly to the FleetOps office on the dock, give them this pass and theyll see you get straight to the hospital. Dont mistake that instruction.

Listensir, you know what happenedDekker wrote me in as a joke. He never thought theyd be using that information. Its a damn joke!

If it is, Im sure theyll straighten it out at the other end. Id be moving, lieutenant. Jackson stood up and handed him the two envelopes as he rose. Good luck.

Yes, sir, Ben said, took his papers and his orders, saluted the son of a bitch and left.

Collected his reader from the front desk, and made a fast, desperate consultation of the trans schedule while he was walking to the doors.

Twenty minutes to his apartment, thirty to the shuttle dock, ten to pack. If he risked a phone call to Weiter to request a rescue, it was a 90 percent certainty that Weiter couldnt do a damned thing against fso before 1145 or later and hed be screwed with Weiter for putting him in a Position.

You didnt crack a security screen. Not if you hoped to keep your clearance in udc computer tech.

Theyd get him back in maybe six days?

Hell. Six days too late if he was on humanitarian leave on b dock when the udc filled the Stockholm post. Hed get the scraps, the cold left-overs after Meeker got posted; and Hamid; and PannelliThe next best choice he had was to appeal to Weiter when he got back and hang on as staff til something else came through, oh, six months, seven, eight months on, who knew?

Dekker had screwed up, the Fleet was evidently about to lose its investment in himand, not in his most copacetic state, Dekker had asked for him?

Ben thought, with every thump of the trans on its homebound course: Ill kill him when I get my hands on him, Ill fuckin kill him.


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Chapter 2
 ^ 
ben hated institutions, hated hospital smells and institution colors and most of all he didnt look forward to this, in his first hour on b dock. He felt like hell, hed slept in a damn cubbyhole of a berth hardly larger than a miner-ship spinner, his feet had swelled, hed had sinus all the way: hed spent too long in null-g in his life and his body had a spiteful over-reaction to the condition. They didnt issue pills and stimsuits for a three-day shuttle trip, no, that prescriptions not on your records, lieutenant, sorry If youd just checked with medical

It was damned well going to be on the record when he left Sol Two. Talk to the doctors in this hospital, get some damn good out of this end of the trip because he meant to be on that shuttle on its turnaround tonight. Six hours was plenty of time to see Dekker, and get out of here.

after three days floating in a three-berth passenger module on a cargo shuttle, ahead of a load of sanitation chemicals and spare parts. Hed had no one to talk to but a couple of machinists who were into some vegetarian religion and hooked on some damn vr game they wanted to explain to him; and he had had ample time to drift weightless in the dark and thinktoo much time to imagine this meeting, and what kind of damage a pilot could take in an accident. Missing limbs. Blood. He hated blood. He really got sick at his stomach if there was blood

Theyd had some sort of missile test that had gone bad out here. Nobody said what. Thered been a lot of long faces in Technical. A lot of emergency meetings last week. Dekker couldnt have been involved in any missile test. A pilot trainee didnt have anything to do with missile tests. Did he?

Jackson had done the talking. But why in hell did a Fleet captain sign the order and bust him out here? What was Dekker that the Fleet cared? The Fleet was fighting for its life in the Appropriations Committee. Dumbass pilot cracked up and udc Priorities got overriddenfor humanitarian reasons?

Not in the military he knew. That was the tag end that had disturbed his sleep and his thinking moments all the way out here. The high-level interest in this affair was what had his stomach upset, as much as the stink of disinfectant and pain and helplessness in this place. He didnt like this. God, he didnt like this, and if Dekker wasnt dead he was going to strangle him bare-handed for writing him into that damned blank.

God, he was.

Reception desk. He presented his orders to the clerk and got a: Lt. Pollard. Yes, sir, that did nothing for his stomach or his pulse rate. The receptionist got him a nurse, a doctor, and Dekkers attending physician, all in increasingly short succession. How is he? Ben asked the last, bypassing long introductions. What happened to him? and the doctor said, starting off down the hall:

No change.

So when did this happen?

Thats classified.

More white coats. More people leaning into his face. They wanted him to open his eyes, but Dekker knew the game. They wanted answers to fill the blanks they had on their slates, but they wanted their own answers, the way they wanted the case to be.

Company doctors. Hed been here before. And they wouldnt listen. He asked, Wheres Cory? because sometimes he couldnt remember what had happened, or he did, but it was all a dizzy blur of black and lights. The ship was spinning. He fought to get to the controls, because he had to stop that spin, with the blood filling his nose and choking his breath, and his hand dragging away with the spin, his grip going

Cory? You damn bastard, stop!

But sometimes he came loose from that time and he was in hospital, or he was going to be, soon as Ben and Bird got him there, and they would lie to him and tell him there never had been adriver ship and he never had had a partner named Cory.

The Company had lied to him. They said he was hallucinating, but it was all lies. And sometimes he thought the hospital was the hallucination, that it was all something his conscience had conjured to punish him for losing his grip on the counter and for losing the ship.

For losing Cory.

And Bird.

Sometimes he was back in the shower, and sometimes tied to the pipes, because he was crazy, and he couldnt figure out how the ship had come to be the hospital.

Thirty days hath September, March eleventh, and November

There were green coats now. Interns. He hoped for Tommy. But Tommy wasnt with them. Wheres Tommy? he asked. Why isnt Tommy on duty?God, its afire, isnt it? Meg? Meg, wake up, God, dont die on me

Ens. Dekker, you have a visitor.

I dont want any fuckin visitor. Get away from me. Get out of here.

Ens. Dekker,

Tell him go to hell! I dont want any damn Company lawyer!Put Tommy back on duty, hear me? I want Tommy back. They grabbed hold of his arms, they were going to put the restraints on. Tommy wouldnt do that. Tommy would ask, Are you going to be quiet, Mr. Dekker? and he would say, Yes, yes, Ill be quiet, and Tommy wouldnt use them.

Wouldnt. But Tommy wasnt with them. And they did. They told him then if he wasnt quiet theyd have to sedate him. So he said, Ill be quiet, and shut his eyes.

Dekker, Ben said. And he opened his eyes. Ben was leaning over his bed. Ben was in a uniform. udc . That was different. But odder things happened in this place. He didnt blink. Things changed if you did. Finally he said, Ben?

Yeah?

There was a ship out there. He remembered that. Ben, weve got to go back. Please, weve got to go back, Corys still out there

Ben grabbed a fistful of his collar, leaned close and said, in a low voice, Dekker, shut it down right now or Im going to kill you. You hear me?

He said, Thats all right. He felt Bens hand on him. He saw Bens face. He knew where he was then, Bird was asleep and Ben was about to beat hell out of him. But that was all right. He really liked Ben, most of the time. And there hadnt been much to like where hed been.

What could a guy do? Ben disengaged himself, and Dekker caught his hand. He pulled free and got out the door to get his breath.

The doctor was out there, several doctors this time. He knew you, Dekkers surgeon said. Higgins was his name. Youre the first person he has recognized.

Fuckin hell! Then hes cured. Im out of here.

Lt. Pollard, another doctor said, and offered his hand. Lt. Pollard, Im Dr. Evans, chief of psychiatry.

Fine. Good. He needs a psych. Thats all thats going to help him!

Lt. Pollard,

Look, what do you want from him? The guys schitz, completely off the scope. He doesnt know where he is, he doesnt know what happened

Lt. Pollard. The psych motioned off down the further hallway. Theres coffee in the lounge. Youve had a long flight.

The psych wanted him to sit down and be reasonable, which he was in no mood to be. But coffee appealed to his upset stomach and his sleep-deprived nerves. And it was not at all a good idea to have a psych telling the local co youd been hysterical. You didnt need that on a record behind another services security screen. So he went with the psych, he went through the danceWhite or black, sugar? Thats enough, thanks,until he could get the weight off his feet, sink into a chair and try not to let Evans see his hands shake while he was drinking.

So what happened to him? he asked, before Evans could fire off his own questions.

Thats what we want to know.

So howd he get like this?

Thats another question.

Deeper and deeper. Ben stared at the doctor and scowled. So a door got him. Is that it?

A simulator did.

Flight simulator? Dekker? Hell of a simulation, doctor.

Didnt lock the belts, strong dose of sedative in his bloodstream.

Shit. Pills again.

Evans said: Wed like to know how he got there.

Or maybe not. You mean somebody put him there?

Its one possibility.

Guy has a talent for making friends. Yeah. Theres probably a dozen candidates.

Why do you say that?

Psych question. He thought, Because hes a fuck-up. Because he has this way of getting himself in trouble and slapping the hand that helps him. But that led to more questions; and screwed Dekker worse than he was with this guy, to whom he owed nothing yet. He said, finally, Say I didnt really know him that well.

He listed you as next-of-kin.

It was a joke. The guys full of them. Lot of laughs.

We dont rule out suicide.

Dekker? he thought. Dekker? Suicide? The idea was more than unlikely. It upset him. And he didnt figure that, either why they could think thatif they knew Dekker, which they might not; or how Dekker could come to thathere, in this place that swallowed people down without a word.

You dont agree?

He shrugged. Its not him. Its just not him.

You didnt come from where Dekker came fromdidnt survive what hed survivedand check out like thatin a damn sim. Something wasnt right, not with the questions, not with Dekker lying in there thinking he was back in the Belt, not with this whole max-classified operation that took a will to live like Dekkers and put him in that bed, in that condition.

Dekker had looked at him like he was what hed been waiting for, and said, to his threat of killing him bare-handed, Thats all right

Every time you got near the guy there was a disaster, Dekker attracted disasters, you could feel it, and, God of all the helldeck preachers, he wanted on that shuttle tonight. Do this effin job, get Dekker to figure out where he was, and when he was, make him talk to the psychs, and get out of here while there was still a chance of making that interviewand getting out of this mess.

Ill talk to him, he said.

Youre sure youre all right about that?

Another psych quiz. Correct answer: A long trip with no information, run in here straight from the mast, I was a little shaken up myself. He tossed off the rest of the coffee, got up and pitched the cup into the bin. Im fine to talk to him. What do you want out of him?

His health.

Yeah, well, hell pull it out. Knock him down and he bounces.

Dont stress him, lieutenant. I really dont advise another confrontation. Hes been concussed. We want to keep that blood pressure under control.

That was about worth a laugh. Dek was already stressed. Dek was in an out-of-control ship in a driver zone with his partner lost. He said soberly, Ive no intention of upsetting him.

The doctor opened the door, the doctor walked him back to Dekkers room and signalled an orderly for a word aside in the hallway.

Ben walked on in, pulled a chair over and sat down by Dekkers bed. Dekkers eyes tracked his entry, stayed tracked as he sat down, he wasnt sure how focused. Dekker had been a real pretty-boy, a year ago, fancy dresser, rab hair, shaved up the sides. Still looked to be a rab job, give or take the bandage around the head; but the eyes were shadowed, one was bruised, the chin had a cut, lip was cutnot so long back. The hollow-cheeked, waxen lookdid you get that from a bashing-about in a simulator a few days ago?

You look like hell, Dekker-me-lad.

Yeah, Dekker said. Youre looking all right.

So what happened?

Dekker didnt answer right off. He looked to be thinking about it. Then his chin began to tremble and Ben felt a seconds disgusted panic: dammit, he didnt want to deal with a guy on a crying jagbut Dekker said faintly, shakily, Ben, youll want to hit me, but I really need to knowI really seriously need to know what time it is.

What time is it? God. So whatll you give me for it?

Ben,

No, hell, I want you to give me something for it. I want you to tell me what the hell youre doing in here. I want to know what happened to you.

Dekker gave a shake of his head and looked upset. Tell me the time.

Ben looked at his watch. All right, its 1545, June 19th

What year?

2324. That satisfy you?

Dekker just stared at him, finally blinked once.

Look, Dekker, nice to see you, but you really screwed everything up. I got orders waiting for me back at base, I got a transfer that, excuse me, means my whole career, and if youll just fuckin cooperate with them I can still catch a shuttle in a few hours and get my transfer back to Sol where I can stay with my program.Dek, come on, d you sincerely understand youre screwing up my life? Do me a favor.

What?

Tell the doctors what happened to you. Hear me? I want you to answer their questions and tell them what they want to hear and I dont, dammit, I want to be on that shuttle. You want me to call them in here so they can listen to you explain and I can get out of here?

Dekker shook his head.

Dekker, dammit, dont be like that. Youre a pain in the ass, you know that? I got to get back!

Then go. Go on. Its all right.

Its not the hell all right. I cant get out of here until you tell them what they want to know! Come on. Its June 19th. 2324. Argentinas won the World Cup. Birds dead. Corys dead. We came out here on a friggin big ship neither of us is supposed to talk about and Gennie Vanderbilt is top of the series. Do you remember what put you here?

I cant remember. I dont remember

Because you climbed into a friggin flight simulator tranked to the eyeballsdoes that jar anything loose?

A blank stare, a shake of the head.

Ben ran a hand over his head. God.

Its just gone, Ben. Sometimes I think its the ship again. Sometimes its not. Youre here. But I thought you were before. What are they saying about the sim?

Dekker, He gave a glance to the door, but the doctor-types were conferring outside. He said, in a low voice: Youre not hooked on those damn pills again, are you?

Dekker shook his head. Scared. Lost. Eyes shifted about. Came back to him.

Ben,Im sorry. Please tell me the time again.

He didnt hit Dekker. He leaned forward and took Dekkers hand hard in his despite the restraints and said, very quietly, Its June 19th. Now you tell me the year, Dek. I want the year. Right now. And you better not be wrong.

Dekker looked seriously worried. A hesitation. A tremor of the lips. 2324.

Good. You got it memorized. Now theres going to be a test every few minutes, hear me? I want you to remember that number. This is Sol Two. You had a little accident a few days back. The doctors want to know how, thats not so hard to hold on to, is it?

I cant remember. I cant remember, Ben, its just gone

Shit. He had a headache. He looked at Dekkers pale, bruised, trusting face and wanted ever so much to beat him senseless. Instead he squeezed Dekkers hand. Dek, boy, listen. I got a serious chance at Stockholm, you understand me? Nice lab job. Im going to lose it if you dont come through. I really need you to think about that simulator.

Dekker looked upset. Im trying. Im trying, Ben. I really am

 

Something was beeping. Machine up there on the shelf. Doctors were in the door. Higgins said, Lt. Pollard. Hes getting tired. Better leave it.Ens. Dekker, Im Dr. Higgins, do you remember me?

Dekker looked at him, and said, faintly, Ben?

You do remember him, Ben said. Hear me? Or Ill break your neck!

Dont go.

Hell be back tomorrow.

The hell, Ben said. Dekker, goodbye. Good luck. I got to catch a shuttle. Stay the hell out of my life.

Lieutenant. That was Evans. In the hall.

He went. He got his voice down and his breathing even. Look, Ive done my job. Im no doctor, youre the psych, what am I supposed to do?

Youre doing fine. This is the first time hes been that sure where he is.

Fine. Ive got orders waiting for me on Sol One. I havent got time for this!

Thats not the way I understand your orders. You have a room assignment

I havent got any room assignment.

in the hospice a level up. Its a small facility. Very comfortable. Wed prefer you be available for him 24 hours. His sleepings not on any regular pattern.

No way. Ive got a return order in my pocket, my baggage is still right back there in customs. Nobody said anything about this going into another shift. That wasnt the deal.

Nobody said anything about your leaving. Youd better check those orders with the issuing officer.

Ill check it at the dock. Ill get this cleared up. Just give him my goodbyes. Tell him good luck, I hope he comes out all right. I wont be here in the morning.

Hospice desk is on level 2, lieutenant. Youll find the lift right down the corridor.

Ben had been there a while. Ben had told him

But he couldnt depend on that. Ben came and Ben went, and sometimes Ben talked to him and told him

Told him about an accident in the sims. But if it was a sim then maybe people he thought were dead, werent, even if they told him so. The doctors lied to him. They regularly lied, and Tommy didnt come back. They kept changing doctors, changing interns, every time he got close to remembering

Only Ben. Ben came and he started to hope and he knew that hope was dangerous. You didnt hope. You just lived.

Ben asked him was he on drugs. He had been once. He had been crazy once, now and again, but Ben and Bird had pulled him out. The ship was spinning, Cory was out there alone, and somebody had to pull him out

Ship was spinning. Pete was yelling. And Cory

Ben said he would kill him if he was crazy and he hoped Ben would do that, if he truly was, because he didnt want to live like that.

Ben said remember. But he couldnt remember any specific time in the sims. He could remember an examiner giving him his C-3. He could remember the first time hed seen the boards. Remembered pushing beams at Sol. Supervisor had said all right, he could do that: he was under age, but they needed somebody who wouldnt ram a mass into the station hull. His head was bandaged, his ribs were. His knees ached like hell, he thought because he had hit the counter, trying to hit the button, but he wasnt sure of anything. You blinked and you got green numbers and lines, and if you followed them too far you never came back. Midrange focus. Back it up, all the way inside.

Thered been an accident and the ship had blown up. And his partners were dead. Or maybe never existed. It was a sim. Bright ball of nuclear fire. And he was here and they were in it, and it was all green glowing lines out there, whipping and snaking to infinity.

He remembered faces now. People he thought he likedBird. Meg and Sal. Cory, and Graff. Pete and Elly and Falcone. Faces. Voices. Falcone yelling, Hey, Dek, see you tomorrow.

But Falcone wouldnt. Elly wouldnt. They never would.

You damn bastards! he yelled. Bastards!

Interns came running, grabbed hold of him. No, he said, reminded what happened when he yelled. No. Tommy!

Get the hypo, one said, and he got a breath, he got a little sanity, said, Im not violent. I dont need it. Its all right. Let go, dammit! Get the doctor!

They eased up. They stopped bruising his arms and just held him still.

Just be quiet, sir. Just be quiet.

No shots. No damn shots.

Doctors orders, sir.

I dont need one. I swear to you, I dont need one.

Doctor says youre not getting any rest, sir. You better have it. Just to be sure.

He looked the intern in the face. Big guy, red face and freckles, lying across him. Out of breath. So was he. And two other large guys who were leaning on him and holding his legs.

Sorry, he said, between breaths. Dont want to give you guys trouble. I really dont want to. I just dont want any shot right now.

Sorry, too, sir. Doctor left orders. You dont want to be any trouble. Right?

No, he said. He shook his head. He made up his mind he had better change tactics. Agreeing with them got him out of this place. It would. It had. He couldnt remember. It was only the drugs he had to worry about.

Just hold still, sir. All right?

Yeah, he said, and the hypo kicked against his arm. Stung like hell. His eyes watered.

He said, You can fuckin get off me. I cant breathe. Let me up, dammit.

Soons you shut your eyes, sir. Just be quiet. You loosened a couple of Johns teeth yesterday. You remember?

He didnt remember. But he said, out of breath, Im sorry. Sorry about that. Im better. A lot better.

Thats good, sir.

Friend of mine was here, he said. But the drug was gathering thick about his brain. He said it again, afraid he might not remember when he waked. Or that it hadnt happened at all.

He went to sleep when they drugged him and he waked up and he never knew where or when. He was going out now. He felt it happening. And he was scared as hell where he would wake up or what would be true or where the lines would lead him.

Ben, he cried, Bird. Ben, come backBen, dont gothey killed my partners, Ben, they fuckin killed us

This isnt validated, the check-in clerk said, and slid the travel voucher across the desk in the .6g of 8-deck. You need an exit stamp.

Ben took the voucher with a sinking heart. What exit stamp? Nobody said anything about an exit stamp. Theres no exit stamp in the customs information.

Its administrative, sir. Regulation. I have to have a stamp.

God. Look, call Sol One.

You do that from BaseCom, the clerk said. And added without expression: But you need an authorization from your co to do that, sir.

And where do I get that? You didnt yell at clerks. It didnt get you anything to yell at clerks. Ben said quietly, restrainedly: My cos on Sol One I need the udc officer in charge.

This is a Fleet transport voucher.

I know it is, Ben said. But this uniform is udc . Is it at all familiar to you? Wheres the udc officer in charge?

The clerk got a confused look, and focused behind him, where someone had come into the office, to stand in line was Bens initial reckoning; but whoever it was said, then Lt. Pollard?

Voice hed heard before. A long time ago. He turned around, a little careful in the .6, saw a blue uniform and a black pullover, a thin, angular face and nondescript pale hair. Brass on the collar.

The trip out from the Belt. The Hamilton. And Jupiters well.

Graff. Fleet Lt. Jurgen Graff. Carrier pilot, junior grade.

Theres an office free, Graff said, meaning very evidently they should go there. Now. Urgently. A Fleet lieutenant wanted to talk to him, and he was stuck on Fleet orders in something that increasingly felt like a deliberate black hole?

Ive got a flight out of here at 1800. Theyre talking about an exit stamp. I need some kind of clearance.

You dont have a flight out of here. Not this one.

He slowed down, so that Graff had to pull a stop and look at him. Sir. I need this straightened out, with apologies, sir, but Ive got a transfer order waiting for me back on Sol One, I was told not to communicate with my co, Im not Fleet personnel. I understand the interservice agreements, but

Five minutes.

Im udc personnel. I want to see a udc ranking officer. Sir. Now.

Five minutes, Graff repeated. You dont want your friend screwed. Do you?

My friendSir, I dont care what happens to my friend. Ive got an appointment waiting for me back on Sol One, and if I lose it, Im screwed. Im just a little uneasy about this whole damn arrangement,sir. This isnt what I was told.

Theres another shuttle out the 22nd. 2100 hours.

Ben caught a breath. Three days. But Graffs moves meant business and you didnt argue a security matter on the open dockno. Even if it was blackmail. Extortion. Kidnapping.

Graff waited. He came ahead. He went with Graff into a freight office and Graff waved the lights on.

Yes, sir? he said.

We need him, Graff said. We need him to remember.

Sir, I just graduated from ti. If Im not back there for the interviews theyre going away. Theyre going to assign those slots and Im stuck teaching j-1 programming to a class full of wide-eyed button-pushers,sir. Excuse me, but Ive not been in contact with any officer in my chain of command, Ive gone along with this on the fsos word it had notified my co. Im not sure at this point Im not AWOL.

Youre not. Youre cleared.

Ive got your word on that. I havent seen any order but the one that had me report to the fso on One. What have you done to me?

You have my word. Ill get a message to your co.

You mean they havent?

Ill double check. Weve played poker, havent we, Mr. Pollard?

Yes, sir. Days of poker. Him. Dekker. Graff. No damn thing else to do on a half-built carrier.

This is poker, Graff said. For major stakes. How is he?

What does he matter? Whats he into?

Say I need him sane.

Hes never been sane.

Dont joke like that. In some quarters they might take you seriously.

I am serious. The guys good, but his tether on realitys just a little frayed.

Maybe thats what it takes to do what he does.

He stood there too close to Graff, looking into Graffs sober face in this very unofficial office and suddenly wondering who and what Graff was talking about and what Dekker did regularly do that had put him where he was. He said, carefully, Dekker got lost out in the Belt. Banged around a lot. Real disoriented.

We know that.

And how much else? Ben wondered. God, how much else? News didnt escape the Belt. Security didnt let anything get out. Even yet. Everything about the mining operation out there was under wrap. You didnt know how much the Fleet might know. Or what tiny, inadvertent slip would let them guess what theyd done back there and what they might have been involved in that might screw his security clearance for good.

I knew this man a handful of months. Ive seen him like this beforewhen he first got out of hospital on R2. I cant make him make sense til he wants to make sense. I couldnt then. Nobody can.

You made a good advance on it. Three days, lieutenant. I want him to talk.

Breath came short. Do I get to beat it out of him?

Lets be serious, lieutenant.

What am I supposed to be asking? Have I got a clearance to hear it? Or what happens when he does talk? What am I looking for?

As much as you can knowand its not been released yetthere was an accident. Dekker wasnt in it. Friends of his were. Dekkers crew was lost.

Oh, shit.

Top command subbed in another pilot with Dekkers crew on a test run. The test didnt go right. Total loss. Dekker was hospitalized, treated for shock. The day he got outhe either climbed into a simulator under the influence of drugs or something else happened. Its a matter of some interestwhich.

Ben chewed his lip. Missile test, theyd said on Sol One. Tech committee meetings. Place crawling with brass and VIPs. Hell. So isnt there an access record?

Computers can be wrong. Cant they?

Bens heart rate picked up: he hoped to hell there wasnt a monitor hearing it. He tried to think of some scrap to hand Graff, for good wills sake. He finally said, Yes. They can be.

I want him functioning, Graff said. Say youre on interservice loanat high levels. It could be good. It could be bad. To take maximum advantage of that you need to deliver. Graff pulled a thick envelope from his jacket and held it out to him. He listed you next-of-kin. So you have a right to see this.

Im not his next-of-kin. Hes got a mother

Shes specifically excluded. Dont worry. Theres nothing in this packet outside your security clearance.

He took it. He didnt want to.

I wouldnt leave that material lying about unattended, Graff said, all the same.Youve got your quarters in hospital. I cant order you not to use the phone. But if you do, if you contact anyone else, do you understand me, youre not behind our screen any longer. Take my personal advice: get back to the hospital and stay thereand dont use that phone.

He looked at Graff a long, long moment. Lieutenant j-g. Carrier command officer. A tech/1 to a tech/2s rank. But he had the impression Graff was leaning on some executive and clandestine authority to do what he was doing. It was in Graffs tone, in the clear implication he should avoid his own chain of command.

Whose office does this originate in, sir? You mind to tell me how official this is? Whos in charge?

Ultimately, the captain.

Two and two suddenly made four. Keu. Sol fso. He looked Graff in the eyes and thoughtI dont like this. Damn, I dont. He said,

Is your captain the only authority thats covering me?

Graff said, No.

Conrad Mazian? The ec militia commander who was romancing his way through the UN hearings? In which service, sir? I want to know. I need to know that. I want orders in writing.

Ben. Take my word. Id go back to quarters, immediately, if I were you. Id stay quiet. Id do everything I could to finish my job. If I were in your place. Graff opened the door, and shut off the lights. If you need me, for any reasontell Dr. Evans.

The keycard worked, at least. The room in the hospice was an institutional cubbyhole with a bunk, a phone, an ordinary flat-vid.

And no baggage.

Delivered, customs had said. Customs had showed him the slip. Delivered at 1500h. God only where.

He set down the soft drink he had carried up from level 1. He looked at his watch. 1845h.

He picked up the phone and went through hospital downside to call customs.

This is Lt. Benjamin Pollard. I was just there. My baggage isnt here. Is it still being delivered?

Who did you talk to?

He sat down on the bed. He pulled a vending machine sandwich from his pocket, laid it on the table by the soft drink, and pulled out the customs claim ticket. The claim number is 9798.

A pause. Its been delivered, sir.

You didnt deliver it to HOS-28.

Thats whats on the ticket, sir.

Thats not whats in HOS-28, soldier. I want to know where my baggage is right now.

Thats all the record I have, sir. You could check with Lost Baggage at 0700.

This shift doesnt find baggage, is that it? It just loses it?

A moment of silence. Ill make a note of it, sir.

Thank you.

He punched out. He did not break the phone. He took a sip of his soft drink and unwrapped the sandwich.

No official assignment, no cafeteria open at this hour, no card with food privileges. He had fifty on him. Period. And Mr. Lieutenant j-g Jurgen Graff and his unnamed captain hadnt seen to that detail.

God, he didnt like the feeling this had. Bet that Graff had contacted Maj. Weiter? Hell if. Bet that the udc knew where he was right now?

He looked at the phone and thought how he could call the udc co here. He could do that. He could break this wide open and maybe be a hero to the udc or get caught in the middle of something, behind a security screen that didnt have Stockholm anywhere inside it. A screen confined to this place. Right now he could plead total ignorance. Right now he had a transfer order signed by Keu and a Security stamp on it and he could plead he had regarded that order exactly the way it said in the Interservice Protocols. And he could do what they wanted and get out of here.

Dammit, he didnt know why Dekker was crazy. Anybody who wanted to fly little ships and get shot at was crazy. If even the simulator could half kill a guy

He could have said get Dekker off the drugs. He could have said dont sedate himbut Dekker knew too much about him, damn him, Dekker knew enough to babble things that could end up on his record, if Dekker got to talking to the psych; and if Dekker had told certain things to Graff, GodGraff could have been sifting everything he had said against information he had had no idea Graff had, and weighing it for truth, Graff could have had technical backup doing it, bigtime, interactive logic stuff you had no good chance to evade without a clearer head and a calmer pulse rate than he had had in that interview

God only, what Dekker had involved himself in. Or why someone might have wanted Dekker dead.

Or what might happen if he picked up that phone right now and tried to get through to the udc officevia hospital communications.

He didnt know enough about how the lines were drawn here. He didnt want to know enough. Do what Graff wanted and be on that shuttle on the 22nd, that was all. Any way he could. And if the udc did land on himspill everything immediately. Total innocence. No, sir, they showed me orders, they said it was cleared

Somebody subbed a pilot on a test run? And somebody put Dekker into a simulator drugged out of his mind?

Bloody hell.

He pulled out the envelope, from inside his jacket. Opened it and pulled out cards and pictures, a couple of licenses and old IDs.

Flight certification. Picture of Dekker and three other people. Group shot. All in Fleet uniform. Woman and two guys besides Dekker. All smiling. Arms over each others shoulders.

Old vid advert for a truly skuz sex item. God. We all have our secrets, Dek-lad

Picture of Sol Station. Picture of a couple of people outside a trans station. Picture of Mars Base from orbit. If thered been any of Cory Salazar, Dekker had lost those, a long time ago.

Datacard. The phone had a reader, but he shoved the card into his own. Personal card showed vid rentals. Commissary charges. Postage charges. Bank records. Bits and pieces of Dekkers life since theyd parted company. Lad had 5300.87cc to his account and no debts. Not bad. Not rich either.

The other datacard was old notes and mail. Not much of it. Notes from various people. One letter months ago from Ingrid Dekker. Four, this last year from Meg Kady.

So Meg did write him. He would never have figured Meg for the letter-writing kind.

Would never have figured Meg for a lot else, either.

He keyed up Megs last letter, scanned at random through what must have cost a Shepherd spacer a mint to send:

 

 cant complain. Doing fine. Im working into the crew, got myself onto the pilot list

Sal and I dropped into The Hole, just on a look-see. Maybe its what we are now. Maybe its just the place is duller. It doesnt feel the same

So what does? he thought, and thought about Sal, and good times in the Holes back rooms. But Sal Aboujib probably had herself a dozen guys on a string by now, swaggering about in rab cut and Shepherd flash, visiting pricey places like Scorpiosif Scorpios still existed. Sal had her a berth, had her a whole new class of guys to pick from. And Ben Pollard never had stuck in womens minds longer than his money held out: he had never gotten a letter from Sal Aboujib. A hello from Dekker once, months ago. Hed said hello back. Only communication theyd had. And it was on here. Hope youre doing all right. Everything fine. Only long distance letter hed ever gotten, tell the truth. And what did you answer, to people you didnt want to be tied to? Good luck, goodbye, Dekker?

Bills. Note from one FalconeDek, we dont like it either. But nothing we can do right now. They want a show. Well sure as hell give them one.

He skimmed back to the letter from Ingrid Dekker. A short one. Dont come here. I dont want to see you. You went out there by your own choice and maybe it wasnt any of it your fault what happened, but things are hard enough, Paul, and I dont need any more trouble. Stop sending me money. I dont want any more ties to you. I dont want any more letters. Leave me alone.

Shit.

He set the reader on his knee, gave a deep breath, thinkingShit, Dek.Hed grown up on his parents insurance himself, both of them having been so careless as to take the deep dive with their whole crew. At first hed really resented them doing that, thought if theyd given a damn about their kid they wouldnt have been that careless, but hed stared into Jupiters well himself onceand he knew how subtle and sudden that slope was, in the pit of his stomach he knew it, now, and dreamed about it, on bad nights.

But his mama had never written him a letter like this one, and in that cold little spot marked Whos left to care, he guessed why Dekker might have written him in as next-of-kin: Meg with her letters about how she was working into the crew and everything was going fine for herDekker wouldnt risk having another woman writing him, saying, Get out of my life, you skuz. Dekker already knew what Ben Pollard thought. And if Dekker was in trouble that needed a next-of-kinwhose life was he going to interrupt, who might remotely even know him?

He cut the reader off. He sat there in a cardboard cubby of a room with no damn baggage and for a moment or two had remorseful thoughts about Paul Dekker. Wished maybe hed written a line or two more, back then, likehell, he didnt know. Something polite.

What friggin time is it?

Two months in a miner-ship with Dekker off his head asking him the time every few minutes. So here he was back there againlocked into a hospital with Dekker. One part of him felt sorry for Dekker and the other panicked part of him still wanted to beat hell out of the fool and get out of here

Dammit, what am I supposed to do with this damn card? Why didnt Graff give this stuff to the psych?

Sub in another pilot, did they? Why, if not Dekkers attitude? And who did it, if not the co whos supposed to want this stuff from Dekker? Real brand-new ship, Dekker said once. Thats why the Fleet had wanted him. Hed been real excited about itwanted it more than anything in his life

And a crews dead and Dekkers screwed like that?

He sat there on the side of the bed desperately, urgently, wanting off Sol Two, he didnt at the moment care where. This whole deal had the stink of death about it.

Serious death, Sal would say.

No shit, Sal. What do I do with the guy?


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3
 ^ 
Mr. Graff, urgent word with you. Down the hall. Sir. Please.

0645 and the breakfast line in the green room was backed up to the door. Hardly time for coffee in the fifteen minutes before he was due in Tanzers office and Jurgen Albrecht Graff punched white coffee instead of black for his stomachs sake. Can it wait? he asked without looking at Mitch, and caught the cup that tilted sideways and straightened it in time. Held it while it filled.

No, sir. A number of us want to talk, sir. Urgent business.

Spit and polish. From Mitch. There was no one close in the rec nook of the mess hall and no reasonable chance of being overheard in the clatter of trays. Tanzer wants to talk, too. I have an appointment in fifteen.

Hell. Mitch was Shepherd, aggressively Shepherd, shaved up the sides, couple of earrings. Bracelet. I swore youd be there. Sir.

Graff lifted out the cup, said, All right, five, and stole a sip as he walked with Mitch out the main door and down the hall to the conference rooms. Door to 6a was open. Mitchs tech crew was there, Pauli and Jacoby, Jamil and his longscanner, Trace. Graff recognized a delegation when he saw it. Tanzer had said, Dont discuss the hearings. Patently that was not the intention here.

Mitch shut the door. Sir. Were asking you to get one of us in front of the committee.

Wont happen, Graff said. No chance. You want to get a haircut, Mitch?

Hell if.

Thats an Earth committee. Blue-sky as they come. They wont communicate.

Yeah, Jacoby said. Is that why Tanzer killed Pete and Elly? Couldnt let a Belter pull it off?

Ease off, Jacoby.

They wont let us in hospital. You seen Dekker? You seen him, lieutenant?

Pauli muttered: Wouldnt be surprised if Tanzer ordered him put in that machine. Didnt want him at the hearings.

Shut that down, Graff said. Right now.

Mitch folded his arms, set a foot on a chair, and said, Somebody better hear it. They didnt want any Belter son of a bitch in front of the cameras. Dekker couldnt fly it? Then why didnt they sub the crew, ask them that!

Mitch, I hope somebody does have the brains to ask it. But theres nothing I can do. Theyre not going to ask me that.

Hell if, sir! Tanzers pets are killing us. You want me to shave up like a Mitch looked at himhim and his regulation trim, and shut the epithet off unsaid. You get me in front of that hearing and Ill look like a udc accountant.

Mitch, Im in a position.

Youre in a position. Youre running safe behind shieldssir. Were the ones with our ass on the line.

Pauli said: And they cant automate these sumbitches any further. Why dont they ask somebody who knows?

The designers will. Staatenteks here. Theyll ask. That much Ill get a chance to tell them.

Ask em about the sim!

Female voice: Trace. Theyre not interested. This is going to be a whitewash start to finish.

The designers have to talk to us, Trace. Well get our word in.

Mitch said: The engineers have to talk to us. The execs and the politicrats wont and they have the say.

Mitch, I cant listen to this.

Tanzer is a hidebound blue-skyer son of a bitch who thinks because he grew up with a rulebook up his ass is a reason to try to tell any spacer his business or to think that the salute-the-logo dumbasses theyve pulled in off the Guard and the system test programs could do the job with these ships

They can fly, Mitch.

Yeah, they can fly. Like Wilhelmsen.

Nothing wrong with Wilhelmsen. Listen to meShut it down, and listen: if we have a technical at work, we want to find it, we dont want to whitewash that either. We have something more at issue here than Wilhelmsen.

Yeah, Pauli muttered. Tanzer.

Mitch said, Nothing wrong with that ship. Everything wrong with the pilot. And they arent going to find the solution to what happened to Wilhelmsen in Tanzers fuckin rulebook. Sir.

Lets just find out, shall we?

Just make the point with them, lieutenant: Wilhelmsen wasnt set with that crew. Wilhelmsen should have said not ready, he was the pilot, he had the final say-so, demo be damned. It was his responsibility to do that.

Yes, it was his responsibility, but it wasnt in his judgement to do it, or he would have done itthe guys dead. He got it the same as the rest, Mitch. Lets give the experts a chance to figure out what.

What chance have they got, if theyre not getting the information? Their experts are blue-sky as Tanzer is!

Jacoby said: Its the At-ti-tude in the udc brass. They murdered Wilhelmsen and Wilhelmsen murdered that crew, thats what they need to hear!

All right! All right! But theres nothing I can do to get you in there right now, and if you act the fools and screw this, theyll pull those design changes and youll be flying targets. Now leave it! Get off my tail! Give me a chance! Thats the order. Ive got a meeting.

There was quiet. It wasnt a happy quiet. Graff handed the coffee to Mitch. You drink it. He started for the door in a dead silence and looked back. Its my life too, guys. You shit me, a carriers gone. Programs gone. You understand that?

They werent used to hearing Helm Two talk like that. Not at all. There were sober faces.

Mitch said, No offense, lieutenant.

Graff passed a hand over his close-cropped hair. Said, Hey, I have to deal with em, guys, and ducked out, with an uncomfortable feeling of being square in the middlemerchanter and neither Shepherd nor regular udc . Not part of the rab the ec had exiled to the Belt, not part of the ec, either, in the sense the rab had resisted itdidnt even understand the politics in the 15, but he was getting to.

Fast.

Theyd hauled the Shepherd pilots into the Program for their expertise. They werent eighteen-year-olds, and they damned sure werent anybodys boys. You didnt use that word with them. Didnt lead them, no way in hell. You fed them the situation and showed them where it was different from what they knew. You showed them the feel of it, and let it sink into their bones and they showed the interactive systems new ways to conceptualize. They designed a whole new set of controls around the Shepherds, and software to display what they saw in their insystem-trained heads.

Explain that to Col. Glenn Evan Tanzer, of udc r&d. God, he wished the captain were back here, that one of the captains would turn up; Kreshov hadnt shown insystem for weeks; and exactly how it had happened that one of the captains wasnt here at b Dock, at the same time a stray investigative subcommittee had outflanked Keu at Sol and gotten here uncheckedhe didnt know. He couldnt even swear FleetCom was secure from the udc code experts. Shepherds thought so, but he wouldnt commit any more to it than he had.

Not now. Not lately, in Sol System, when the enemy was mindsets that wouldnt understand the realities in the Beyond. The Belt was closer to the Beyond than it was to Earth.

And closer to it than Tanzer by a far shot. Always Tanzerwhod been sitting here in r&d so long they dusted him.

0657. By the clock on the wall. He walked down the corridor, he walked into Tanzers office, and Tanzers aide said, Go right in.

He did that. He saluted, by the book. Tanzer saluted, they stared at each other, and Tanzer said, Lt. Benjamin J. Pollard. Does that name evoke memory?

Shot across the bow. Graff kept all expression off his face.Yes, sir. Friend of Dekkers. Listed next-of-kin on his card.

Is that your justification for releasing those records to Sol?

Captain Keus orders, sir. He sees all the accident reports.

Is that your justification for issuing a travel voucher?

I didnt issue the travel voucher. Mr. Pollards presence here isnt at my request.

Lt. Graff, youre a hair-splitting liar, youre a troublemaker and I resent your attitude.

On the record, sir, I hardly think I can be held accountable

Thats what you think. Youre sabotaging us, youre playing politics with my boys lives, and you have no authorization to bring in any outsider or to be passing unauthorized messages outside this facility to other commands.

That is my chain of command, sir. Dekker is my personnel, and Keu is my commanding officer. Sir. I notify him on all the casualties. What Captain Keu does is not in my control. And if the question arises, I will testify that in my opinion Dekker was not in that simulator by choice. Sir.

Tanzers fist came down on the desk. Im in command of this facility, Lt. Graff. The fact that your commander saw fit to leave a junior lieutenant in command of the rider trainees and the carrier does not give you authority over any aspect of this operation, and it does not give you authority to issue passes or to make communications to anyone outside of BaseCom, do you understand me?

Where it regards your command, yes, colonel. But Im responsible to Captain Keu for the communications he directly ordered me to make and which I will continue to make, on FleetCom. Lt. Pollard is here on humanitarian leave in connection with Fleet personnel. Hes Prioritied elsewhere. Hes here temporarily and he has adequate Security clearance to be here.

Hes also udc personnel.

Hes under interservice assignment. On leave. And not available to r&d.

A friend of Dekkers. Let me tell you, Ive had a bellyful of your recruits, and Im sick and tired of the miner riffraff and psychological misfits washing up on the shores of this program. Your own captains interference with design has given this program a piece of junk that cant be flown

Not true.

a piece of junk that works in the sims and not in the field, lieutenant, because it doesnt take into account human realities. That firepower cant be turned over to adrenaline-high games-playing freaks, Mr. Graff, and that machine cant rely on the 50 per centers on the simshow many ships are you going to lose on that 50 per cent? Four billion dollars per ship and the time to train the crew and youre going to gamble that on 50 per cent of the time the pilots nerves hold out for the time required? Were pushing human beings over their design limits, and theyre dying, Mr. Graff, theyre ending up in hospital wards.

Wilhelmsen didnt die of fatigue, colonel, he died of communications failure, he died of not working with his own crew. He schitzedfor one nanosecond he schitzed and forgot where in hell he was in his sequence. Theres an interdict on that moveits supposed to be in the pilots head, and it failed, colonel, he failed, thats the bottom line. Dekker

Dekker ran that same flight on sim and hes lying delirious in hospital. Dont let me hear you use that word schitz again, lieutenant, except you apply it to your boy. Theres the problem in that crew. Theres the troublemaker that had to prove his point, had to shoot his mouth off

Dekker didnt run that sim. And the word is concussion, colonel. From the impact of an unsecured body in that pod. He didnt forget to belt in.

He was suited up.

The flightsuits keep your feet from swelling, colonel: Dekkers been exposed to prolonged zero g. The other crews say

He was up there on drugs, lieutenant! Read the medical report! He was high on trank, he was in possession of a tape he had no business with, and he and his attitude got in that pod together, lets admit what happened up there and quit trying to put Dekkers smartass maneuver off on any outside agency. There wasnt one.

I intend to find out what did happen.

Do you? Do you? Let me lay this word in your lap: either you come up with proof thatll stand up in court martial, or this investigation is closed. Dekker climbed into that pod on drugs, because he has an Attitude the same as all the other misfits this facilitys been loaded with, he believes hes cornered the market on right, hes a smartass who thinks his reflexes make up for his lack of discipline, and if you drop that chaff in the hearing you wont like the result. If you want this program to fly, and I assume you do, then youd better reflect very soberly what effect your appearance and your testimony this afternoon is going to have on your captains credibilityon the credibility of your service and the judgement of its personnel. Dont speculate. Keep to the facts.

The facts are, Dekker saw what was happening, he called the right moves. Its on the mission control tape

Youre so damned cocksure what your boys can do, mister, but its easy to call the right moves when youre not the one in the pilots seat. You wont sit those controls. You wont fly those ships. Will you?

Fair question, except theyd been over that track before. Thats exactly the point. Im not synched into a rider crew. Cross-training would risk both ships.

The truth is, lieutenant, your Fleet doesnt want its precious essential personnel flying a suicide ship, your Fleet wont let go its hare-brained concept before it stinks. Your Conrad Mazian isnt a ship designer, he isnt an engineer, hes a merchant captain in a ragtag militia trying to prove its qualified for strategic decisions. This ship needs interdicts on a pilot thats stressing out.

That ship needs its combat edge, colonel. If Wilhelmsen had had an ai breathing down his neck hed have had one more thing on his mind: Is the damned thing going to take my advice or not? At what mission-critical split second that I happen to be right is it going to cut me out of the loop? You cant cripple a ship with a damned know-it-all robot snatching control away because the pilot pushed the gs for a reason that, yes, might be knowingly suicidal, for a reason that wasnt in the mission profile. Besides which, longscans after you, and what are you going to do, give a Union longscanner a hundred per cent certainty an ais going to interdict certain moves? If he knows your cutoffs, he knows your blind spots. If he knows you cant push it and he can, whats he going to do, colonel?

When the physiological signs are there, youre going to lose that ship, thats a hundred per cent certainty, and nobody else is going to be exceeding that limit.

Wilhelmsen was leaning hard on the Assists. He could have declined that one target, thats inside the parameters, thats a judgement a riders going to have to make. But hed have looked bad for the senators. He wanted that target. Thats an Attitude. Theres a use for that in combat. Not for a damned exhibition.

Wilhelmsen was saving the program, lieutenant, saving your damned budget appropriation, in equipment thats got six men in the hospital and seventeen dead. You dont push machines or human beings past the destruct limit, and you dont put equipment out there that self-destructs on a muscle-twitch. The pilot was showing symptoms. The ai should have kicked him out of the loop right then, but it cant do that, you say he cant have it breathing down his necka four-billion-dollar missile with a deadmans switch, thats what youve gotit needs an integrative ai in there

Watch the pilots cut it off. Which you cant do with that damned tetralogic system youre talking about, its got to be in the loop talking to the interactives constantly, and no matter the input it got after, its logic systems are exactly the same as the next ones, same as the ships are. The only wildcard youve got is the humans, the only thing that keeps the enemy longscanners guessing. The best machine youve got cant outguess the human longscannerwhy should you assume theyre going to outperform the pilot?

Because the longscanner cant kill the crew.

The hell he cant!

Not in that sense.

Your tests dont simulate combat. Thats what weve been telling youyou keep concentrating on the fire rate, always the damned fire rate and youre not dealing with the reason we recruited these particular crews. Nobody at Lendler Corp has been in combat, none of your pilots have been, the udc hasnt been, since it was foundedyour tests are set up wrong!

Not saying Tanzer himself hadnt been in combat. Red in the face, Tanzer got a breath. Lets talk about exceeding human limits, lieutenant: what happened out there was exactly why weve got men in hospital over there who cant walk a level floor without staggering, its why weve had cardiac symptoms in men under thirty, and those arent from four hour runs. A jab of the finger in his direction. Let me tell you, lieutenant, Ive met the kind of attitude your command is fostering among the trainees. Show-outs and ego-freaks. And I wash them out of my command. You may have toddled down a deck in your diapers, and so may Mazians ragtag enlistees out of the Belt, but how are you going to teach them anything when they already know it all and you acquired your know-how by superior genes? You cant lose 50 per cent of your ships and crews at every pass. 96 per cent retrievability, wasnt that the original design criterion? Or isnt that retrievability word going to be in the manual when we put this ship on the line?

If a Union armscomper gets your numbers you have zero retrievability, colonel, thats my point. You have to exceed your own numbers, you have to surprise your own interfaces in order to surprise that other ships computers and that means being at the top of the architecture of your Adaptive Assists. The enemy knows your name out there. Union says, Thats Victoria, thats Fitzroy or Graff at Helm, because Victoria wouldnt go in with Helm Three. They know you and they know your style, and its in their double As, but you innovate and they innovate. One ai sitting on top of the human and his interfaces is like any other damn ai sitting on top of the interfacesthere arent that many models, the enemy knows them all, and the second its logic signature develops in the enemys intelligence about you, hell, theyll have a fire-track lying in wait for you.

Then youd better damn well improve your security, hadnt you?

Colonel, there are four manufacturers in friendly space for this tetralogic equipment and we cant swear theres not an Eye sitting right outside the system right now. Any merchanter who ever came into system could have dropped one, before the embargo, and its next to impossible to find it. Merchanters are your friends and your enemies: thats the war the Company made, and thats whats going on out therethey dont all declare their loyalties and a lot of them havent got any, not them and not us. Theyll find out the names. Theyll find out the manufacturers and the software designers. Theyll learn us. Thats a top prioritywhos at Helm and whos in command, and if its even one in four brands of tetralogic

All the more reason for interchangeable personnel.

It doesnt work that way! You dont go into an engagement with anybody who just happens to be on watch. You try to get your best online. No question. You dont trade personnel and you dont trade equipment. You havent time at .5 light coming down off jump to think about what ship youre in or what crew youre with. Im telling you, colonel, my captain has no wish to raise the substitution as an issue against your decisions, but on his orders, as judiciously as I can, I am going to make the point that it was a critical factor. We cannot integrate a computerized ship into our operations. In that condition it is no better than a missile.

You havent the credentials to say what it is and isnt, lieutenant. Youre not a psychiatrist and youre not a computer specialist.

I am a combat pilot. One of two at this base. A cold, dark silence. Ill tell youif you want to raise issues this afternoon, Im perfectly willing to make it clear to the committee that youre a composite, lieutenant, a shell steered by non-command personnel and an absentee captain, and you clearly dont have the administrative experience to handle your own security, much less speak with expert knowledge on systems youve never seen. Ive held this office for thirty years, Ive seen all sorts of games, and your commanding officers leaving that carrier to subordinates and your own abuse of your commanding officers communications privileges is on official report in my chain of command. This is not the frontier, this is not a bare-assed militia operation, and if your service ever hopes to turn these trainees into competent military personnel you can start by setting a personal example. Clean up your own command and stop fomenting dissension in this facility!

I do not accept that assessment.

Then you can leave this office. And if you are called on to testify, youll be there as one of the pilots personally involved in the accident, not as a systems expert. Youd be very unwise to push past that positionor youll find questions raised that could be damned embarrassing to your absentee superior and your entire service. Im talking about adverse publicity, if you give grounds to any of these senators or to the high command. Do you understand that? Because I wont pull any punches. And the one security no one can guarantee is a senators personal staff.

Are you attempting to dictate my testimony, colonel? Is that what Im hearing?

In no wise. Give my regards to your captain. Good day, lieutenant.

Something had come loose. Banging. The tumble did that. Dekker reached after the cabinet, tried to get to the com.

Hand caught his arm. Something shoved him back and he hit pillows.

Bang from elsewhere.

Hey, Dek. You want eggs or pancakes?

He couldnt figure how Ben had gotten onto the ship. Ben had rescued him. But he didnt remember that.

Eggs or pancakes?

Eggs arent real, he said. Awful stuff.

Theyre real, Dek-boy. Not to my taste, living things, but theyre real enough to upset my stomach. Eggs, you want? Orange juice?

He tried to move. Usually he couldnt. But his arms were free. He stuffed pillows under his head and Ben did something that propped the bed up. Ben went out in the hall and came back and set a tray down on the table, swung it over him.

Eat it. Thats an order, Dek-boy.

He picked up a fork. It seemed foreign, difficult to balance in .9g. His head kept going around. His arm weighed more than he remembered and it was hard to keep his head up.

But he stabbed a bit of scrambled egg and got a bite down. Another. He reached for the orange juice but Ben did it for him, took a sip himself beforehand and said, We got better at Sol One.

Maybe it was. Maybe he was supposed to know that. Ben held the cup to his lips and he sipped a little of it. It stung cuts in his mouth and it hit his stomach with a sugar impact.

Keep it up, Dek-boy, and theyll take that tube out.

He didnt know there was a tube. Didnt know how Ben had gotten here. Or where they were now. Didnt look like the Hole at all. Didnt look like R2 hospital. He reached after the fork, took another tentative nibble at the eggs. God, he was weak.

Wheres Bird? he asked.

What year is it, Dek-boy? I warned you thered be a test this morning.

He shut his eyes. Opened them and Ben was still there. In this room. He recalled something like that. Ben was going to beat hell out of him if he missed.

2324.

Good boy. Have some more oj.

Cant. His stomach suddenly felt queasy, when he thought about that number. Number had to be wrong. He waved the cup away and watched Ben drink it.

Ben, in a udc uniform.

He was going crazy. It was 2324. Ben didnt belong here.

Ben said, You remember Meg and Sal?

Yeah. Sure.

Meg writes to you, doesnt she?

Yeah. Sometimes.

Real love affair.

Were friends.

Yeah, Ben said. You looked it when you said goodbye. Remember saying goodbye? He took an envelope out of his pocket. Held up a handful of cards and pictures. Remember these?

Hed seen them before. Theyd lied to him, the doctors had. They made all these things up. They told him they were his, hed thrown them across the room.

Now Ben had them. Ben held up a picture of him with people he didnt remember and he couldnt look at.

What are their names?

He shook his head.

Womans Elly?

The name jolted. Elly was dead. Pete and Falcone.

Pete?

Guy on the right. Big grin. Pete smiled like that. Pete had his arm over his shoulder. But he couldnt remember the photo.

Which ones Pete?

I dont know. But it was a lie. Ben just didnt belong with them. Everything was scrambled. Cory and Ben and Bird. He was afraid Meg was going to be in that picture if he went on looking at it.

Blood. Exploding everywhere. Beads floating, fine mist.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The eggs didnt sit well at his stomach. Everyone in that picture was dead. He was in there too.

Whos the other guy?

Falcone.

Said not to worry about him. Didnt he? Left you a note? You remember?

He shook his head. He shoved the table away, tried to get up. Ben pushed him back against the pillows and a stabbing pain went through his skull.

He grayed out for a moment. When he came back Ben was quietly finishing his toast. Ben said, You ready to talk now?

The cup hit the grid. Sideways. Two out of five. Graff lifted the cover up and righted it before the coffee hit, collected his overdue morning caffeine and turned in the general noise of the end of breakfast, straight into Villys intercept.

udc Flight Chief. Captain Alexandro Villanuevasenior test pilot for the udc , who said, all friendly, Hear you and the old man went one this morning.

Fast. Must have richocheted off Tanzers wall, Graff thought, and shrugged in mid-sip while Villanueva stuck his card in the slot and punched up a coffee. He said, We differed.

Villanueva rescued his cup. Damn thing.

Ever since they changed the cups. Villanueva took the coffee out and let the cover drop, said, quietly, You know, back when we were doing the A-89, we had one of these runs of trouble. Lost twelve guys in six months. The old man just sat in that office and filled out the reports: you never saw him crackbut it broke him up. Same now. He wants to pull this program out. But weve got to come out of this with an answer. A right answer.

Redesign isnt it. He got on well enough with Villanueva. Villanueva had started out calling him sonnever did think hed quite gotten the man out of the mindset. Gray hair on captain Villy, legitimately come by, rumor had it: handful of crack-ups and a few pieces of luckif dealing with Tanzer daily didnt do it. They kept trying to promote him to a desk, God only wish hed get Tanzers post and run the whole program, not just test opsbut Villy kept on making test runs himself, one of the udc pilots who had real respect among the Shepherds.

Graff, Villanueva said, dammit, were vulnerable on this project, were real vulnerable. Politicians are gathering like sharks. I know the old mans hard to deal with. But lets not hang the differences out in plain sight today.

He thought about Mitch. About the frustration among the Shepherds, who wanted to fight Tanzer. And that did no good. They wont likely ask me anything but where I was, where the targets were. Thats all in the electronic record. Cut and dried, isnt that the expression for it?

Villanueva stood there a moment. Just looking at him. He expected Villanueva to say something in answer, but instead Villanueva walked off with his coffee and didnt look back. Maybe he should have given more back. Used a different expression. Read the signals otherwise. He didnt dislike the man, God knew he didnt dislike him. The man had been trying to say something, but somehow in the inevitable screw-ups between blue-skyer and spacerhe had the feeling the signals had gotten fuzzed.

Villanueva went over to a table with his own men. Sat down. Graff walked over to the other side, where a couple of the Fleets own gray heads inclined together. Demas and Saito. Nav One and Com Oneno credence at all to the Equivalencies that the Fleet had had settled on them. Commdr. Demas, as happened. But Nav One meant it was Demas did the major share of the course plots, with the backing of eighteen techs interfacing with scan and longscan at any given instant, which meant that a prototype carrier on a test run knew so precisely where it was and where everything else was that a Lt. J-G at Helm couldnt screw up if he worked at it.

Except with a wrong word to the udc r&d chief.

Think I just picked a wrong word with Villy. Does cut and dried describe what theyre going to ask at the hearings?

Com One said, her almond eyes half-lidded, Probably. Rigged might too. On, is the man?

Demas said, A lot On. Deep in. Drink your coffee, Helm. Present for you. Demas laid a bolt on the table. Fat one.

Damn. What is that?

That, J-G, is a bolt. It was lying next the wall in a dark little recess in the carriers main corridor. Where the construction crew just installed the number eighteen pressure seal.

Thing was good as a bullet lying there. I want to see the count sheet. I want the last crew that worked in there. Damn those fools!

Station labor. Gravitied brains. What do you ask?

Ben said, You remember Graff?

Yeah, Dekker said.

What do you remember?

The trip out from the Belt. Here.

Good boy. Where are we?

Sol Two, he said. Ben told him so. He had to believe what Ben told him: Ben was the check he had asked for, Ben was what he got and he had to believe everything Ben told himhe told himself that, this morning. Ben showed him pictures and showed him letters in the reader, that he remembered reading. The ones from Meg, the note from Falcone, the morning

The morning they pulled him off the demo and put somebody else in.

Nothing you can do, Falcone had written. Left the note on the system. Came back like a ghostafter the accident. After

You remember where the sims are?

Which ones?

You tell me.

He felt tired, wrung out. He lay back in the pillows and said, Couple downside. Theyre all the procedurals. Tried to think of exact words and remembered Ben was a licensed pilot too. Ops stuffstuff you need your reflexes forits in the core.

Null-g stuff.

Null-g and high-g. His eyes wanted to drift shut. His mind went around that place as if it were a pit. He could see the chamber in the null-g core, the sims like so many eggs on mag-lev tracks, blurring in motion. Lot of gs when they were working

Whens the last time you remember using the sims in the core?

Difficult question for a moment. Then not so hard. Watch before the test. Wilhelmsen and I

Wilhelmsen.

He was my backup.

Friend of yours?

Difficult to say. Chad

Wilhelmsen?

He nodded, eyes shut. Son of a bitch, but he was all right. Didnt dislike him. We got along.

So they subbed him in. You watch the test?

He didnt know. Completely numb now. But the monitor on the shelf was showing higher points to the green line.

You went into shock. They put you in hospital.

Wasnt the way he remembered. Wasnt sure what he did remember, but not that shock was the reason. No. He hadnt seen it.

They give you drugs in the hospital?

He nodded. He was relatively sure of that.

Give you a prescription when you left?

Dunno.

They say they did.

Then I guess they did.

You guess. Were you still high when you left the hospital? Did you have drugs with you?

I dont remember.

What time of day was it?

Dont remember, Ben, I dont remember. But something was there, God, a flare on the vid, a light the cameras couldnt handle. Plasma. Bright as the sun. Pete and Elly, and Falcone and the ship.

You all right? The monitor was beeping.  No! Let him alone. Its all right! Leave him the hell alone.

Orderly was trying to intervene. He opened his eyes and looked toward the door, trying to calm his pulse rate, and Ben leaned over and put his hand on his shoulder. Squeezed hard.

You get in that sim by yourself?

I dont know.

Somebody put you there?

I dont know. I honestly dont know, Ben. I just cant remember.

Come on, Dek, think about it. You got into the core. You remember that? You had to get that far. What happened then?

He shook his head. He kept seeing dark. Flashing lights. Green lines and gold. Heard Cory saying, Nothing you can do, Dek, nothing you can do

They were back in The Hole. In his room behind the bar. Had a drawerful of pills

He put a hand over his eyes, then stared at the ceiling and looked over at Ben again to be sure where he was and when he was. But the black kept trying to come back and the lines twisted and moved.

Driver ship, a k long. Loads of rock going to the Well at tremendous v.

Cory was dead. Dead a long time. So was Bird. He thought that Bird was dead. Fewer and fewer things were coming loose and drifting.

He pressed his hands over his eyes until it made sparks of color in the dark of virtual space. Red. Phosphenes. Was that what they said the lights were?

Spinning, of a sudden. He grabbed the bed.

Ben said, God, watch it!

Something was beeping. Ben said, to someone at the door, He had a dream, thats all.

Want you there this afternoon, Graff said to his Nav One; and to Saito. Saito said,

This wont be like our procedures. An answer-whats-asked. This is Earth. Dont mistake it.

Graff took a sip of cooling coffee. I couldnt. The old man hasnt sent us a hint, except Pollard, and Pollard doesnt know anything. I dont know if thats a signal to raise that issue or notbut I cant understand the silence. Unless the captains leaving me to take the grenade. Which Id do. Little they could do anyway but transfer me back. But he should tell me.

No grenades, Demas said.  No chance of Dekker talking?

Pollards honestly trying. All I know.

You sure hes the captains? He could be Tanzers.

Graff remembered something hed forgotten to say, gave a short laugh. Pollards a native Belter.

Youre serious. Tanzer knows it?

Knows hes a friend of Dekkers. That has him the devil in Tanzers book. Whats more, this Belter claims hes a Priority 10 tracked for Geneva.

Demas brows went up.

Graff said, Bright. Very bright. Computers. Top security computers.

Tanzer cant snag a Priority like that.

Saito said, Not without an authorization. I doubt Tanzer can even access that security level to realize what he is.

The captain set up Pollard with a room in the hospital. I told him to stay to it and Dekkers room and keep his head down. With a security clearance like that, he understands what quiet means, I think. Hes got an appointment waiting for himif he can get out of here before he becomes a priority to Tanzer.

You signal him?

Every word I could prudently use. There were some I didnt. Maybe I should have. But hes udc . You dont know where itll go, ultimately.

No remote chance on Dekker?

No chance on this one. Too much to ask. Theyve requested the log. Theyre going to ask questions on the carriertheyll want to ask questions about the trainees. But they wont talk to them. Theyre not scheduled. Trainees dont talk to the ec. Trainees theyre designing those ships around dont talk to the committee because the committee is only interested in finding a way that doesnt admit were right. Another schitzy ai. Another budget fight.

The Earth Company makes a lot of money on shipbuilding, Demas said. Does that thought ever trouble your sleep?

Its beginning to.

The captain wanted to bust Demas up to a captaincy. Demas insisted he was staying with Keu. The argument was still going on. The fact was Demas hated administration and claimed he was a tactician, not a strategist, but Demas saw things. Good instincts, the man had.

Saito said, quietly: Committee will be predominantly male, predominantly over fifty, and they wont understand why the captain didnt leave Fitz in charge and take me and Demas with him. Thats what youre dealing with.

Fitzroy, Helm One, was answering questions for the committee at Sol One. Graff said, glumly: Tanzers threatening to make an issue out of their command rules.

Demas shook his head. Let him make it. Thatll get me to the stand surer than the nav stats would. And I dont think he wants that.

One could wish. But one couldnt get technical with the legislative types. With the engineers, yes. Theyd talk to Demas. But the engineers couldnt talk policy to the legislators. Couldnt get through their own management.

I keep having this feeling theyre going to blindside us.

Youll handle it. No question. Easy done.

Keus silence was over all the most troublesome thing. Graff finished off his coffee, took the bolt and pocketed it. Paperweight. Every paperpusher should have one.Tell the construction boss I want to talk to him, in my office, right now.

Ought to give him the thing at max v, Demas said.

When we find the foreman who faked the parts countId be willing. Graff headed for the door, tossed his cup in the collection bin.

Ben was back. Ben had been in the hall a while. Ben sat down with his chair close to the bed, put his hand on his shoulder.

Howre you doing, Dek?

All right.

You were remembering, you know that? Pete and Elly? You remember that?

Ben scared him. I was dreaming. Sorry, Ben. If he was dreaming he could be in the Belt. Or the ship. But Ben shook at his shoulder and said,

Dek, how did you get in the sim? What were you doing there? I got to get out of here. I got twelve hours, Dek.

Sim chamber. Pods spinning around and around. Racket. Echoes. Everything tried to echo. And Ben said he had twelve hours. He didnt want Ben to leave. Ben came and Ben went, but as long as he knew there was a chance of Ben being there he knew what he was waking up to.

He said, Its June 20th, isnt it? Isnt it, Ben?

Ben took a fistful of hospital gown, under his chin, and said, Dekker, remember what fucking happened. I got to be on that shuttle. Its my life at stake, you copy?

He tried. Ben let him go, smoothed the covers, patted his shoulder. Didnt ask him anything for a moment. Ben was upset and he earnestly tried to pull the sim chamber out of the dark for Ben. But it wasnt there.

Just that fireball. Second sun. They said it wasnt Wilhelmsens fault. Maybe it wasnt. You died when you overran your limits.

Target, he said. Ben said, What?

He said, Target. Missed one


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4
 ^ 
The hearing was set up in A 109, not the biggest of the classroomsdressed up with tables and a couple of udc guards with sidearmsto do what, Graff asked himself bitterly, shoot down anybody whod tell the truth out of turn?

Limited seating, they called it. No public access. That meant the workmen and the mechanics that worked for the ec, the vendors and the man who sold meat pies on 3-deck were barred, and those of them with security clearances still had to pass metal detectors. It meant that any military personnel showed if the committee knew they existed, and sent them passes: that meant ranking officers and the few like himself whose names were on the duty list the hour of the disaster. But there were passes issued for aides and for official representatives of the several services. And that meant the Fleet had Saito and Demas.

And the Shepherd trainees had Mitch and Jamil. Theyd taken off the jewelry, taken off the earringscouldnt hide Jamils tattoos, but Jamils single strip of black hair was braided tight against his scalp, and both of them were as regulation as the Shepherds could manage.

There were the various heads of department, maintenance chiefs, the ones who had security clearances. There was a big carrier schematic on one screen, others showing details of the docking ports. And an undetailed model on the table. Just the flat saucer shape. Manta shape, the blue-skyers called it. Hed seen a picture of the sea-dwelling creature and he saw why. Thin in one aspect to present minimum profile to fire or to high-v dust when it needed, broad and flat to accommodate the engines and the crew, and to lie snug against a carriers frame.

Black painted model. The real thing was grayer, reflective ceramic. But they didnt advertise the coating. Thirty crew aboard when, please God, they got past the initial trials, thirty crew, mostly techs, mostly working for the longscanner. Core crew was four. The essential stations. The command personnel. The ones whose interfaces were with the active ship controls and the ones they had to risk in the tests.

The carrier dropped into a star-system and launched the riderstrusting that realspace ships launched like missiles, with more firepower than ability to maneuver at v, could do their job and make a carriers presence-pattern a far, far more diffuse element for an enemys longscan computers.

And trusting the human mind could keep going for four hours on intermittent hyperfocus at that v with no shields, only a constantly changing vr hud display and a firepower adequate to take out what threatened itif reactions were still hair-triggered after that length of time immersed in virtual space; if human beings still had consistent right reactions to a dopplered infostream of threat and non-threat and every missile launched and potentially launched. A longscan of a fractional c firefight looked like a plaid of intersecting probabilities, overlaid cones or tri-dee fans depending on your traveling viewpoint; and you overran conventional radar, even orders from your carrier: all you had was calc, com, and emissions.

Put an Artificial Intelligence above the human in the decision loop? Use a trained pilot for no more than resource to his own Adaptive Assist systems, with no power to override? Like hell. Sir.

He took a seat next Demas and Saito, he cast a look down the row at Mitch and Jamil, and let the corner of his mouth tighten, surreptitious acknowledgement of their effort at diplomacy.

The committee filed in. Over fifty, Saito had said, and all male. Not quite. But the balance of the genders was certainly tilted. There were a handful of anxious execs from the designers and military contractors, from Bauerkraftwerke, who had designed the rider frame and some of the hardware; Lendler Corp, simulator software; Intellitron, which produced the longscan software for both carriers and riders; Terme Aerospatiale, which did the Hellburner engines; and Staatentek, responsible for integrative targeting systems, computers and insystem communications. All of which could be pertinent. Lendler and Intellitron and Terme Aerospatiale were all Earth Company, but God only knew what side they were on. Theyd doubtless been talking up the military examiners since last night: thered been a udc briefing.

Thats Bonner, Saito whispered, indicating a white-haired, shave-headed udc officer. Gen. Patrick Bonner, Graff understood. Tanzers direct co. Ultimate head over r&d, not a friend. And what was he saying to an ec contractor, both of them smiling and laughing like old friends?

People got to their seats. Bonner gave a speech, long and winding, a tactic, Graff thought, designed to stultify the opposition. Or perhaps his own troops. Not here to fix blame, Bonner said. Here to determine what happened and what caused it.

Introductions. Graff found himself focusing on the walls, on the topographic details of Bonners receding hairline, the repeating pattern in the soundproofing, on the nervous fingers of the rep from Bauerkraftwerke, which tapped out a quiet rhythm on the table.

Statement of positions: Bauerkraftwerke insisted there was no structural flaw, that its engineers had reconstructed the accident and there was nothing to do with failure of the frame or the engines. Terme Aerospatiale agreed. Lendler said its simulation software wasnt at fault. Staatentek, the patent holder of the local ai tetralogic, maintained that the random ordnance software, the communications, the targeting software, had not glitched. Nobody was at fault. Nothing was wrong.

But a redesign in favor of the tetralogic control couldnt be ruled out.

Bangs and thumps again. Ben? Dekker called out. Ben had said he would be there. But he waked up in a corridor, on a gurney, with restraints he didnt remember deserving. Ben! A nurse patted his shoulder and said, Its all right, your friends just outside.

He hated it when the illusions started agreeing with him. He lay still then, listening to the rattle and clatter. Someone said, from over his head, Were going to take you in now, and he didnt know where. He yelled, Ben! Ben! And somebody said, Better sedate him.

No, he yelled. No. And promised them, You dont need to.

Are you going to be all right? they asked him.

Yeah, he said, and lay there getting his breath. But there was a whine of hydraulics and a clank, and they shoved him into a tube, telling him: You have to stay absolutely still

Like a spinner tube, it was. Like back in the belt, in the ship. He lay still the way they told him, but it got harder and harder to breathe.

Flash of light. Like the sun. He heard a beeping sound that reminded himthat reminded him

EllyElly, Wilhelmsen, dont reorient, screw it, screw it, youre past

Hes panicking, someone said.

He screamed, at the top of his lungs, Wilhelmsen, you damned fool

Fifteen minute recess. Break for restrooms and the corridor and the hospitality table.

Mitch moved close enough to say, Theyre dithering, sir.

Graff said, Ease down. Not here.

They saying it cant be flown. Thats a damn lie.

Ease down, Mitch. Nothing we can do out here. He had Saito at his elbow. He could see Tanzer down the hall with Bonner, in hot and heavy discussion.

Demas came back from the phone in the office. Said: A word in private.

Graff said, Mitch. Be good, and took Saito with him, further up the hall. You get him?

Couldnt get hold of Pollard. Talked to Higgins. The neurosurgeon wanted to run another brain scan. Higgins and Evans agreed. Dekker went off the edge, hes under sedation. Higgins says he remembers the accident. Nothing further. He may never be able to remember how he got in that pod.

Damn.

Youve got to tell it plain, Helm.

Break it wide open? We dont know what the captain wants. We dont know and if it were safe to use FleetCom he would.

Saito said, It cant be worse. At this point Id advise going past protocol. Worst we can do is alienate Bonner and a few hand-picked legislators who came out here with him. This is a set-up. But it has records. The contractors are here defending their systems. And there may be a few line-straddlers in the senatorial party.

That was a point. Bonner was already alienated. This was likely a breakaway group of legislators Bonner favored putting in here to hear what Tanzer put togetherbut the fact that they let him talk at all was either a try at getting something incriminating out of him; or maybe, maybe that there were members of the group that wanted more than one view.

God only knows what were dealing with. No Pollard, no Dekker. Its a small hand were playing. All right. Ill tell Mitch. Wraps are off.

Past lunch and beyond, and Ben paced the waiting room. Hed read all the damned articles available to the reader, hed become grudgingly informed in the latest in microbio-logic engineering, the pros and cons of seasonally adjusted light/dark cycles and temperature in station environments, the ethics of psychological intervention, and the consequences of weather adjustment in the hurricane season to the North American continent, not to mention five posture checks for low-g workers. Hed occupied himself making changes in a program he had stored on his personal card, hed been four times at least to Dekkers room to see if he was out from under sedationhed lost count. You could hear the clangor and rattle of lunch trays being collectedthey had a damned lot of hurt and sick people in here, people that had let a welder slip or gotten in the way of a robot loader arm, one guy whod taken a godawful number of volts closing a hydraulic switchhe heard the gossip in the corridors coming and going, he was saturated with hospital gossip on who was missing what and how the guy with peritonitis was doing today and what was the condition of the limb reattachment in 109?

While the orderlies were having lunch.

Another trip out to Dekkers room. Cant wake him, Higgins said. Weve gotten the blood pressure down now. But hes tired. Hes just tired

Ive got a shuttle pulling out tonighttell the lieutenant Ive done everything I can do. I want to see him. Ive got to get out of here.

Higgins said, Hes involved in a hearing this afternoon. I dont know if I can reach him. Ive left two messages with his office.

The hell! Doctor, my luggage is still lost, Im out of money for the damn vending machinesI never got a cafeteria authorization and Im sick of potato chipsI never asked to come here, Dekker and I never were friends, dammit, I dont know why Im his keeper!

Higgins lent him five. Which wasnt the answer he wanted, but it was lunch, at least, and he wasnt going to offend Higgins by turning it down. Supper, he wasnt even going to think about.

Tanzers turn with the mike. Nobody from the Fleet on the panel and no chance, Graff thought, of doing anything about that, except refusing to allow Fleet personnel to testify and trying to make an issue of itbut he was in a Position on that too, being one of the people on the list to testify; and he hoped the sweat didnt show.

Demas advice, Saitos, Armsmaster Thieus, for that matter, who might be called, was unanimous, and that it agreed with his only confirmed that if he was wrong and if he screwed this, the Fleet had to push him out the lock as a peace offering. That was one thing. He understood that kind of assignment.

But the thought that he could screw things beyond recall, offend the wrong senator, say something the media could get hold of and kill the riderships or bring the Fleet under udc controleither of which would kill any hope of preventing the whole Beyond being sucked into Unions widening influencethat was the possibility that had his hands sweating and his mind chasing random imaginations throughout Tanzers performance: he kept thinking, Ive got to counter that; and, Ive got to get that across to the committee, and, God, theyre not going to ask me the right questions.

No way Bonners going to let me answer those questions.

The generals no fool. Theres something hes got planned, some grenade planted and ticking, only where is it? With Tanzer?

Tanzer was saying: Its the task of this facility to evaluate prototype systems and to take them to the design limits. The essential step before we risk human life is advanced, exacting interactive assist simulation. The second step is automated performance testing. And again, the simulations are revised and refined, and procedures and checklists developed in hours of Control Integration Trials, a process with which many of our distinguished panel are intimately familiar. They are also aware that in the world of high-velocity craft we are exceeding human capacities to cope with the infostream. Weve overrun human reaction time. Weve long since overrun conventional radar. Hence the neural net AA, which adapts and shapes itself threefold, for the pilots past performance, enemys past, pilots current behaviorsand the longscan technique that extrapolates and displays an objects probability. Weve developed dopplered communications and communications techniques to receive information faster than human senses can sort it, computer assemblies to second-guess the pilot on multiple tasks. The faster we go, the more the pilot becomes an integral component of the systems that filter information via his senses and the Adaptive Assists into the ships controls. Right now the human is the highest vote in the Hellburners neural network; but weve long been asking the question at what point the sophistication of the computers to provide the information and the speed and power of the ship to react may finally exceed the engineering limits of the creatorthat is, at what point of demand on human capacity to react to data, do we conceive a technically perfect and humanly unflyable machine?

The questioner, Bonner, said, Have we done that, in your opinion?

Tanzer said, Yes. In my opinion, yes.

Go on.

The ec militia came here with a design within the capabilities of the ship-building industry, and within the skills of its own pilots to operate. And the design for a companion ship they claimed could use off-the-shelf hardware and software

Damn him, Graff thought.

and serve as a high velocity weapons platform. It was not, of course, operable as designed. The Fleet insists that the unpredictability of human decisions without a tetralogic ai dominating the pilot-neural net interlink is essential to high-v combat. And we have six men in hospital and seventeen dead in the realworld discovery process.

Hell.

Were putting crews into a ship that is in effect a high-v multilogic missile, with the sole advantage that the equipment is theoretically recoverable.

There had been dead silence in the room. There was a small muttering now. Dont blow, dont blow, Graff wished Mitch and Jamil. We get our turn.

The gavel came down.

Tanzer went on: A pilot with twenty years experience and no faults in the sims ran the course successfully for three hours, forty-six minutes and 17.4 seconds. The accident, which youve seen repeatedly, took place within seven tenths of a second. In the 17th second Wilhelmsen missed one random ordnance target on the approach and reoriented to catch it on the retreat, which he did. At this point telemetry leaves us to guess what passed through his mindperhaps the recollection he was entering the probability fan of a target in his path. Pulse and respiration had increased markedly over the previous ten minutes. The armscomper and the co-pilot simultaneously indicated alarm as the maneuver started. The armscomper fired off-profile as required and missed. In the next .7 of a second the pilots telemetry recorded three muscle twitches in conflicting directions causing the craft to undergo successive shocks, and one extreme reaction which caused the pilot and the crew to lose consciousness and sent the ship into a tumble.

PossiblyDr. Helmond Weiss will provide more specifics in his testimonybut possibly prolonged hyperception to a microfocused event like the double miss caused a spatial confusion

Pens on Translates took rapid notes. Graff kept his notes in his head. And said to himself, on the memory of his own system entries: Wilhelmsen panicked.

Seven tenths of a second, Tanzer said, from first mistake to the ship entering a fatal motion. Four point eight seconds later it clipped a targeting buoy at .5 light. There is no recoverable wreckage. Our analysis of events rests entirely on telemetryin which, ironically, the speed makes the microgaps significant data fallouts.

Meaning the instruments couldnt send fast enough.

Meaning our data-gathering had two phases: an infosift rapid transmission and a more detailed concurrent total transmission that was running 28 minutes behind the condensed report. Machines cant transmit that fast. More important, human neurons dont fire that fast. Were using human brains to improve a missiles kill rate at a sustained rate of decision that exceeds human limits. Meaning we cant think that fast that long. Weve tried an Assisted handoff to a human co-pilot and its not practical. The psychological stress is actually increased by the trade, and performance is critically reduced. Either we put an unexcepted ai override on the observed physical responses that preceded the incident, or we go back to design and put that ship under a tetralogic ai with the pilot at the interfaceas the heart, not the head, of the affair; or, unacceptably, we outright admit that we dont give a damn for human life, and we breed human beings to do that job and tape-train the fear and humanity out of them, the way they do in Union space. There are no other choices.

Down the corridor to the vending machines, a cheese sandwich and a soft drink. Cheese was edible. The fish wasnt even to mention. It had something green scattered through it. Ben sat down, unwrapped the sandwich, tore the indestructible packaging on the chips and sipped his drink.

A guy came in, put chits in the machine. God, he didnt want a couple of orderlies discussing kidney function during his sandwich

But he caught the haircut and the uniform, took a second look, and found the shave-job staring back at him with sudden sharp attention.

Pollard?

The face almost rang bells, but he couldnt place it. The haircut, pure rab, didnt agree with the blue fatigues that said military. Civ docker, he thought. Then he thought: Dekker. Shepherd. And had a sudden notion in what packet of memory that face belonged.

Mason? he asked.

Yeah! the guy said, hands full. Word is youre here for Dekker, damn! How is he?

Like shit. He indicated the place opposite him at the table and Mason brought his sandwich and his drink over and sat down. Ben asked, What are you in for?

Therapy. Mason wiggled the fingers of his right hand. Gym floor jumped up and got me.Dekkers still bad, huh? He say anything?

Thinks hes in the fuckin Belt most of the time. Ben took a bite of cheese sandwich, thought about that shuttle leaving at mainday end, and how there wasnt another til next week, wondered if there was a shortcut to the memory Graff wanted, and said, Keeps asking for Bird and Cory Salazar. What in hell happened to him? Anybody know?

Mason pulled a long face. Just they pulled him out of a sim-pod bloody and beat all to hell. But wed lay odds Mason looked at him about chest-high and stopped talking in mid-sentence. Mason filled his mouth with sandwich instead.

lay odds, what?

Mason looked at him narrowly while he took time to chew the bite and wash it down with soft drink. Nothing.

What, nothing? Whats that look mean?

You here as a friend of Dekkers? Or officially?

Look, Im a programmer, not a psych. I was minding my own business on Sol One. fso hauled my ass out here because Dekker named me next-of-kin. Lt. Graff hands me his personals, doesnt tell me shit else, asks me find out what happened to him, and thats where I am, trying to find out why hes lying there seeing ETs and angels, so I can get back to Sol One before my postings gone. Whats that look mean?

Mason said slowly, Youre not here on Tanzers orders.

I dont know Tanzer. The fso jerked me over on a hush-up and hurry. Humanitarian leave, on account of Dekker wanted me. Whats the udc got to do with it?

Uniform youre wearing isnt exactly popular in some quarters.

So what are we? Union spies? Not that I heard.

Say Dekker wouldnt be lying in that bed except for the udc co here.

Ben took a look at the door. Nobody around. Nobody listening, unless they routinely bugged the vending machines. Mason. This is Ben Pollard. Ben who was Morrie Birds partner. Ben whose ass your ship saved once upon a while. You seriously mind to tell me what the hells going on and why Dekker rates all this shiz?

Mason swallowed a bit of sandwich and sat there looking at him and thinking about it. Say its a real pressured environment.

Yeah?

The udc doesnt like Belters. You must be the exception. 

Belters who might be old, exiled rab, Ben thought, Shepherds who looked like Masonthat haircut wouldnt get a security clearance from the udc , but he didnt say so. He said, carefully, Theres some feeling, yeah, but I never ran into it. Went into ti, computer stuffin no pain until they snatched me here. Whats this about Dekker and the co?

Tanzers run the r&d for udc insystem stuff since Adam was an Earther, hes got his System, and his friends in high places, til the Fleet signed us in to fly for them. The udc wanted to do the test and documentation through their facilityall right, they had the set-up and the sims and the knowledge of the suppliers and the technical resources; which is how r&ds got their hands on the ships and put their guys in the seats, because the U friggin DC is trying to get the Fleet demoted to a udc command.

Ive heard that. Mazians all over the news trying to get funds. The opposition wants it with strings.

Youve seen the big ships. But the secondary stuff the Fleets buildingtop secret stuff, fast. udc s never flown anything this hot. Design screw-ups, spec screw-ups, materials failures. They cut the budget which means they go to the drawing-board again and make changesno mind it costs another 150 million for a study and an 80 mil legislative session that couldve made up the differenceno, thats fine, thats going in the damn senators pockets and feeding the contractors. We had one glitch-up with a pump that wasnt up to specs, we got another because securitys so damn tight the company making a mate-up device cant talk to the company writing the software, you figure that?

Must be the programmer that did the ec security system. 

Listen. Masons finger stabbed the water-ringed tabletop. Right now theyre six months behind schedule and talking about one damn more redesign on the controls. The udc bitched and bitched about sim time, said Tanzers boys were the ones to do the test runs because they had the hours and the experienceyou want to talk to me about hours? Shit, Im twenty-seven, thats twenty fuckin years Ive lived on the Hamilton, and they give me 200 hours at nav? 200 fuckin hours, you believe that? They wont log anything you ran up before you were licensable at your post. I was nav monkey when I was seven, I was running calc when I was ten, I was sitting relief on the edge of the Well when I was twelve, and then they say theyre counting only a quarter of the time our ships logged usas a compromise because it was civilian hours? Ninety days a run, thirty heavy, and on call 24 fuckin hours a day in Jupiters lap for longer than these sim-jockeys would hold up, and they give me 200 hours? I was 2000 plus on my last run out from R2!

Thats crazy.

Yeah, but thats udc rules. You only get hours for the time youre logged on. Who logs on? Who ever logs on? You do your fuckin job, youre too busy to log on, with a load coming and the watch rousting you out of your bunk at 2100 to check youre where you think you are, because somebody thinks we got a positional problem, shit if Im going to log on as officer of record and get my fuckin hours for the udc . Same shit theyre pulling on the merchanters. You know why they dont count real hours on us? Because the udc s got four pilots can claim real hours on a par with us, and last week they had five.

The guy with Dekkers crew?

Wilhelmsen. Mason leaned closer, said, Listen And stopped as a nurse came in and carded a soft drink. The nurse left. Mason said, Weve got a lot of pressure. You got maybe four, five hours at a run. Virtual space display. Neural net Assist. Real sensory overload. Hyperfocus, non-stop. And you dont sub in some stranger in the last twelve hours before a run, you dont have bad feeling between the pilot and the techs, you dont plug in a guy with a whole different visualization system. You want to figure how much pressure Wilhelmsen was under to perform? Shit, he missed a target. He couldve let it go. But he was too hot for that. He flipped back to get it, schitzed on where he was, and took three good guys with him. You know why Dekkers in here? DekkerDekker told Wilhelmsens crew to their faces that he could have done it.

Shit.

No kidding. Wilhelmsens navigator took severe exception, there were words

Before or after they sent Dekker to hospital?

Let me tell you about that, too. Yeah, Dekker was in shock. He was watching it in mission control. But he didnt need any hospital. They wanted him quiet. They wanted him not to say a thing in front of the senators and the VIPs they had swarming around the observation area.

They.

The udc . Tanzer. They doped him down and let him out after they got the last of the VIPs on the shuttle out of here. And twelve hours later they haul Dekker out of the sim thats been running for six

Evans walked in. Stood there a moment, then said, Lt. Pollard. Getting the local news?

Ben remembered to breathe. And shoved back from the table. We knew each other, back when. Old news.Nice seeing you, Mason.

Nice seeing you, Mason muttered, and got up himself, Ben didnt wait to see for what. He chucked his plastics in the bin and walked out, with a touch of the pulse rate and the cold sweats hed used to feel in the Belt, when the Company cops were breathing damned close to them.

Infighting with the udc ? A major Fleet project going down the chute and the blue-sky udc fighting to get its boys in the pilot seat and the Earth Company militia under its command?

He wished he were in Stockholm.

Lt. Graff, Bonner said, and Graff got up from beside Demas, walked quietly to the table and swore to tell the truth.

State your name, rank, citizenship, service and age, the clerk said.

Jurgen Albrecht Graff, Fleet Lieutenant, ec Territories, ship merchanter Polly dOr, assigned militia ship Victoria, under Captain Keu, currently Helm Two on the ecs8, uncommissioned, age thirty-eight.

Heads perusing documents, drowsing on hands, came up and looked at him with dawning close attention.

Gen. Bonner said, Will you state your approximate actual age, for the record, lieutenant?

Son of a bitch, Graff thought. Actually, sir, I havent calculated it since I was fifteen. But I was born in 2286, Common Reckoning, and the first ec president in my memory was Padriac Melton.

Would you agree youre approximately early twenties, lieutenant, in terms of actual years?

Ive no access to those records, sir. And its not relevant to my experience.

What is your logged experience?

Since I was posted to Helmten years, six hours a shift

Logged hours, lieutenant.

conservatively, 18000 hours, since posting. Not counting apprenticeship. Not counting work during dock, which is never logged.

Bonners face was a study in red. Logged records, lieutenant. Answer the question as asked or be held in contempt.

As far as I know, there are documents behind those hours, sir. The Polly dOr is likely somewhere between Viking and Pell at the moment, and she maintains meticulous log records. Victorias whereabouts the Fleet commander could provide, if youd care to query

I doubt this committee has the patience, lieutenant. And lets state for the committee that your logged hours on Sol Two records are substantially less. Can we at least agree that youre not a senior officer, and you were in physical control of the carrier during the test run?

General. Saitos quiet voice from behind him, and mild dismay registered on the faces of the panel. Una Saito, Com One, protocol officer on Victoria. Lieutenant, as a matter of perspective, where were you born?

Bonner said, Ms. Saito, whatever your rank may be, youre in contempt of this committee. Be seated before I have you ejected.

Graff said, looking at all those frowning blue-sky faces, Actually, sir, if its relevant, I was born on the sublighter Gloriana, on its last deep-space run.

There was a murmur and a sudden quiet in the room. Graff sat there with his hands folded, not provoking a thing, no, and Bonner, give him credit, gave not a flicker.

So you would maintain on that basis your experience is adequate to have managed the carrier on a critical test run.

I would maintain, sir, that I am qualified to take a starship through jump, an infinitely riskier operation.

Youre qualified. Have you done it?

Yes, sir. I have. Once on initiation, eighteen times on hand-off on system entry.

Yourself. Alone.

Helm on Victoria is backed by 49 working stations, counting only those reporting in chain of command to Helm.

Ill reserve further questions. Senator Eriksson?

Thank you. This from the Joint Legislative Committee rep. Lt. Graff, Eriksson from the jlc technical division. Medical experts maintain that hyperfocus is not sustainable over the required hours of operation.

Its routine for us. If

Let me finish my statement, please. Medical experts have stated that the ERP Index indicates mental confusionstress was taking its toll. As a starship pilot you have systems which defend against impacts. You have an ai-assisted system of hand-offs. You have a computer interlock on systems to prevent accidents. Based on those facts, do you not think that similar systems are necessary on these ships?

Senator, all of those interlocks you describe do exist on the rider, but let me say first that a starships autopilot override is at a two-second pilot crisis query in combat conditions, the riders was set at one for the test, and that while the carrier does have effect shields, the size of the rider makes it possible to pass through fire zones in which the carriers huge size makes such passage far riskier. The armscomp override isnt necessary, of course, because a riders available acceleration isnt sufficient to overtake its own ordnance, but it does have a template of prohibited fire to prevent its ordnance hitting the carrier or passing through a habitation zone. The ai-driven autopilot did cut on when it detected a crisis condition in the pilot, which, as I said, was set at one second for this test. The ai queried the pilotthats a painful, attention-getting jolt. It waited a human responselong, in the ais terms, again, one second before it seized control. It was already tracking the situation on all its systems. It knew the moves that had caused the tumble. It knew the existence of the next target. It knew it was off course, but it had lost its navigation lock and was trying to reestablish that. The buoys existence was masked for the test, but the ai realized it couldnt save the test: it entered another order to penetrate the virtual reality of the test to sample the real environment, accessed information concealed from the pilot and reckoned the position of the target buoy as potentially a concern, and correctly assigned it as a hazard of equal value but secondary imminence to the threat of the ships high-v tumble. It reasoned that elimination of the target required the arms function, while evasion of the target required the engines, and that the motion exceeded critical demands of the targeting system. A subfunction was, from the instant the ai had engaged, already firing engines to reduce the tumble, and tracking other firepaths. It was doing all that, and attempting to locate itself and its own potential ordnance tracks relative to interdicted fire vectorsrealspace friendly targets. Fire against the target was now set for its first sufficient window: the condensed telemetry of its calculations is a massive printout. The ai was still waiting for the window when its position and the targets became identical.

Took a moment for the senator to figure what that meant. Then an angry frown. So youre blaming an ai breakdown?

No, sir. Everything from the ais viewpoint was coming optimal. A human with a clear head couldnt have outraced the ai in targeting calculations or in bringing the ship stable enough to get a window. A human might have skipped the math and discharged the chaff gun and the missiles in hope of destroying the object by sheer blind luck, but the ai had an absolute interdiction against certain vectors. It didnt even consider that it could violate thatthat range safety could have taken care of the problem if it arose. Somebody decided that option shouldnt be in its memory, and this being a densely populated system maybe it shouldnt have been. But that ship was effectively lost from the moment the pilot reacted to his crews apprehension. That communications problem was the direct cause of the accident

Bonner said, Excuse me, senator. The lieutenant is speculating, now, far outside his expertise. May I remind him to confine himself to what he was in a position to witness or to obtain from records?

He didnt look at Bonner. A communications problem set up by a last-minute substitution of pilots.

The committee hadnt heard that. No. Not all of them had, at least. And from Shepherds he knew were back there in the room, there was not a breath, not an outcry, just a general muttering, and he couldnt turn his head to see expressions.

The senator said: What substitution, lieutenant?

The crew trained as a team. The Fleet pilot was replaced at the last moment by a udc backup pilot the colonel lifted out of his own crew and subbed in on Fleet personnel. The Fleet captain in command objected in an immediate memo to Col. Tanzers office

Bonner said, Lieutenant, youre out of line. Confine yourself to factual answers.

Sir. That is a fact upheld by ecs8 log records.

Somebody yelled from the back, Do they show the Fleet laid those targets and set that random ordnance interval? Several voices seconded, and somebody else yelled, Youre full of it, Jennings, you dont break an ops team! You never sub personnel! Tanzer killed those guys sure as a shot to the head!

The gavel came down.

Somebody shouted, over the banging, The Fleet set up the course. Check the records! The Fleet had orders to set the targets closer together to screw the test!

And from nearer the front, as the mps and Fleet Security moved in, Wilhelmsen screwed the testthose targets were all right! He lost it, thats all!

Bonner was on his feet shouting, Clear the room. Clear the room. Sergeant!

Institution green. Ben had seen green. Had eaten real lettuce, drunk lime (orange juice was better) and had real margarits the way they could make them on Sol One, but he still wasnt sure why inner system liked that color that mimicked old Trinidads shower paneling, whether that shade was what Earth really favored. He sincerely hoped not. He honestly hoped not. But if Earth was that color wall to wall hed take it over b Dock hospital corridors and vending machine suppers.

Dekker was still hyperbolicswung on an intern, threatened the nurses, called the co a psychopathic control junkie

How many fingers? the intern had asked, holding up two, and Dekker had held up his own, singularwhich was Dekker, all right, but it hadnt won him points. The intern had checked his pulse, said it was elevated

Damned right it was elevated. Youre being a fool, Ben said, while they were waiting for the orderly with the trank. He grabbed Dekker by the arm and shook him, but Dekker wasnt resisting. You know that, Dek-boy? Use your head. Shit, get us out of this place!

Sorry, Dekker said listlessly, sorry. And stared off into space until Ben shook him again and said, You want to spend your life in here? You want a permanent home here?

Dekker looked at him. But the orderly came in and gave him the shot. Dekker didnt fight it. And after the orderly went away Dekker just lay there and stared past him.

Dek, Ben said, count their fingers. Walk their damn line. Remember how you got in that damn sim. Maybe the lieutenant can get you out of here. Just play their game, thats all.

And Dekker said, while Dekkers eyes were glazing, Whats the use, Ben? Whats the use anymore?

That wasnt like Dekker. Wasnt like him at all. But Dekker was out then, or so far under as made no difference. They said people drugged out could hear you, and that under some kinds of trank maybe you didnt have the same resistance to suggestion: Ben squeezed Dekkers arm hard and whispered, right in his ear, Youre going to wake up remembering, you son of a bitch. Youre going to do what they say and get yourself out of here. Hear it?

Dekker didnt give any sign he did. So it was out to the hall again, 1805h, and no likelihood Dekker was going to come around again this evening.

He might lie to the doctors, Ben thought, he might tell them Dekker had remembered, make something upprime Dekker with it and hope Dekker had enough of his pieces screwed together to remember it. If he could figure out what they wanted to hear. Say it was Wilhelmsens crew that attacked him, that was the signal he was picking up. That was what the Fleet wanted.

But not what the udc wanted. And what the Fleet wanted wasnt any ticket to Stockholm, no.

Damn, damn, and damn.

Meanwhile Dekker got crazier, no knowing what drug they were filling him full of or what it was doing, and if he could get hold of Graff hed tell him check the damn medication for side effects, it wasnt helping, it was making Dekker worse; hed stopped trusting Higgins, and Evans hadnt been available since yesterday

Hed seen this before, damn if he hadnt, when an organization got ready to throw a man out with the garbagesome skuz in power had taken a position and bet his ass on it, and now the skuz in power had stopped wanting the truth, since it didnt agree with the positions hed taken

So you trashed the guy who knew what was going on; you pinned the blame on him as far as you could; you shunted out anybody who might be sympatheticEvans departure from the sceneand from where Ben Pollard was standing it didnt look as if Graff or the Fleet had any serious influence left in the hospitalnot enough at least for Graff to get his ass in here and ask Dekker himself, which signal he should have picked up from the beginning if hed had any antennae up. Not enough to do a thing about the stuff they were shooting into Dekker, who, if the Fleet knew it, wasnt outstandingly sane to start with. Triple damn.

Good night, some nurse said to him. Gnight, Ben muttered, half looking around. Good night was what Earthers said to each other. Good night was where this guy had come from. The place of green and snow and rain. Tides and beaches.

Hed seen growing plants. Been into the herbarium on Sol One. Amazing sight. Guided tours, once a week. Keep to the walkway, dont pick the leaves. But the Guides demonstrated how some of them smelled. Flowers would take your head off. Leaves smelled strange. He wasnt sure he liked it. Grease and cold metal smelled one way, and that was home. This hadnt been, hadnt smelled quite edible, not quite offensive, not at all a smell like anything hed known. The ocean was what he wanted, not any damn woods full of stinking plants: snow that was water freezing, not methane, or the scary stuff you got when a seal was chancy.

Snow was the result of weather, which was the result of Coriolis forces, which he understood, and atmospheric rollover, which he theoretically understoodhe thought about that, pushing the button for another damned cheese sandwich, he thought about a city that was like helldeck without an overhead, with the tides coming and going against its edges and snow happeningthat was what he thought about for company on the walk home.

Didnt think about Dekker lying trank-dead in bed, or Dekker saying, Whats the use, Ben? Whats the use anymore

When Dekker had hung on to life harder than any son of a bitch of his acquaintance. And when other sons of bitches were playing games with a defense system they called importantdammit, the services played games, with a war on? And the whole human race could find itself in a war zone if the Fleet didnt keep the mess out past the Oort Cloud?

The Earth Company was playing damn games again, that was what, in another of its corporate limbs, the friggin Company and the udc and the Fleet, that couldnt find his luggage, was politicking away as usual and throwing out a guy like Dekker who was sincerely crazy enough to want to fly a ship like that into combat.

Hed fought fools in administration before. And they were beatable, except there was such a supply of them.

Hed fought Systems before, and they were beatable, if you knew the numbers, or you could get at them. But damn, hed tried to stay clean. Even with that eidat system, that begged for a finger or two in its works. Use the numbers he had to get to Graff?

Graff couldnt do anything or Graff would have done it. Possible even that Graff had screwed him from the start of this.

Get to Keus office? Not damned easy. And no guarantee the Fleet even at that level could do anything.

Go to the udc co and screw Dekker by blowing his own services hope of getting him back?

Walking the corridor to his so-called hospice quarters, he thought how if going to Tanzer would get him a pass out of here on the next shuttle, damned if it wasnt starting to look like a good idea. Screw Dekker? Dekker was already screwed. So what was one more, given he couldnt help the guy?

He held sandwich, chips, and drink in one arm, fished his card out of his pocket with his right hand and shoved it into the keyslot.

The message light was blinking on the phone, bright red in the dark. He elbowed the button on the room lights, shut the door the same way, and went to the nightstand to set his supper down

Found his luggage, maybe. He couldnt think of a call else he had in, unless Dekkerd taken a spell of something.

Couldnt be hed broken anybodys neck. They had him too far out for that. Please God.

He plugged in his personal readernever use a ti card in an unsecure deviceand keyed up playback.

TECH/2 Benjamin J. Pollard CTS/SS/udc 28 BAT 2 CURRENTLOC: udc SOL2B-HOS28 1719JUN20/24 SN P-235-9876/MLR 1923JUN20/24 TRANSFER TO: ACTIVE DUTY:udc SYSTEMS TESTING

RANK: TECH2/udc SOL2B-OPS/SCAN G-5: PILOT RATING C-3 WITH 200 EXPERIENCE HOURS LOGGED.

REPORT TO: 2-DECK229, BARRACKS C:JUN21/24/ 0800h: ref/CLASSIFIED: OUTSIDE COMMUNICATION SPECIFICALLY DENIED.

He sat down. He had that much presence of mind. He punched playback again with his thumb, and the same damned thing rolled past.

Transfer? Systems Testing? Pilot rating?

Shit!

The committee wanted another go. Immediately. The shuttle was two days on its way from Sol One, due in at maindawn, and, informed it wouldnt be held, senatorial demands notwithstanding, the committee decided to keep going through maindark, if that was what it took. You didnt snag a senator for a five-day to Sol Twono famous restaurants, no cocktail lounges, no facilities the way they legendarily existed downworld: the senators had important business to do, the senators wanted out and back to Sol One and down to Earth and their perks and their privileges, and theyd talk with the company reps over gin and tonic the whole way back.

Graff had hoped, for a while, after things went to hell, that some few members of the committee might want to ask him questions over gin and tonic, if they had the clout to ask him in for a go-over; or rec-hall coffee, if they had the clout just to get past Bonner. Hed kept his phone free. Hed hoped until he got the notification of the resumption of the sessionsthe committee wanted a chance to review testimony and wanted certain individuals to stand by a call.

Demas and Saito werent on the list. Mitch and Jamil certainly werent. No audience. No guarantee there would be any questions Bonner didnt set up. Graff sat there tapping a stylus on the desk and thinking about a fast call to Sol One via FleetCom; but that was still no useif the captain hadnt noticed a shuttle-load of senators, contractor executives, and udc brass headed to Sol Twos b Dock, there was no hope for them; and if the captain hadnt known something about the character and leanings of said senators and contractors and Gen. Patrick Bonner, Fleet Security was off its game. So the lieutenant was still left out the lock without a line, and the lieutenant had to get his butt out there right now and give the senators what they asked as best he could.

So the lieutenant in question put his jacket on, straightened his collar, and opened the door.

Mr. Graff.

Face to face with Tanzer.

Id like a word, Tanzer said as he stepped into the hall.

About my testimony? He didnt have an Optex, didnt own one and it wasnt legal for a private conversation; but he hoped Tanzer would worry.

Tanzer said, Just a word of sanity.

A trap? A smear, if Tanzer was carrying a hidden Optex. He could refuse to talk; he could tell Tanzer go to hell; but he had to face Tanzer after the committee was long gone. Yes, colonel?

Tanzer said, quietly, You could screw this whole project. Youre a junior, you dont know what youre walking into. And you could lose the warright here, right in this hearing. Im advising you to answer the questions without commentno, Im not supposed to be talking to you, and no, I cant advise you about your testimony. By the book, I cant. But forget that business in the office. We both want that ship. We dont want it cancelled. Do we?Can we have a word inside your office?

No, was his first thought. There were aides milling about down the hall. There were potential witnesses. But not knowing what Tanzer wanted to tell him could be a mistake too. Bugs, there werent, inside. Not unless the udc was technologically one up, and he didnt think so. He opened the door again, let Tanzer in and let the door shut.

Tanzer said, directly, The companies arent going to support finding a basic design flaw; thats money out of their pockets, do you understand me? Thats not what were going to push for.

Tanzer and a 4-star? Politicking with a Fleet j-g? What in hell was going on at Sol One? I wasnt under the impression that was seriously at issue.

You dont understand me. Those companies dont want the blame. Theyre perfectly willing to put the accident off on the service. To call it mishandling

Oh-ho.

A control redesign, existing technologythat, theyll go for. As long as its our design change, out of our budget. You listen to me. This is critical. Weve got some Peace-nows kicking up a fussthey want to grab that appropriation for their own programs. Theyre talking negotiation with Union. Partition of the trade zones. Theyve got some tame social scientists down in Bonn and Moscow talking isolation again.

Theyd talked it off and on for two hundred years. But Union was very interested in Earths biology. Very interested.

They wont get it.

They can dither this program into another five-year redesign with political deals. The Earth Company can end up deadlocked with the UN. We need the ai on top to let us get some successes with this shipmake it do-able, so we can go public as soon as possible. The thing can have another model, for Gods sake, build the old design and lose ships to your hearts content, after weve got the first thirty out of the shipyards and trained pilots who know its characteristics. Prove your point and have your funerals, itll be out of our hands, but lets get this ship online.

The effect will be training your pilots to pull it shortto worry when theyre taking a necessary chance. Combat pilots cant have that mindset; and you cant train with that thing breathing down your neck.

Youre not a psychiatrist, lieutenant.

Im not an engineer, either, but I know the ai youve got wont accommodate it, youre talking about a very complicated software, a bigger black box, and that panels already crowding armscomp, besides the psychological factors

Cut one seat. One fewer tech. The tetralogics worth it.

Thats ten fewer objects longscan can track, and thats one damned more contractor with an unproved software and another unproved interface to train to.

Thats nothing getting tracked if the ship doesnt get built, lieutenant, come down to the point. Youre not going to get everything you want.

If you want to cut a deal, you need to talk to the captain, Im under his orders.

What are his orders?

To keep that ship as is.

Or lose it? You listen to me. You dont have to agree. Just dont raise objections.

Talk to my captain. I cant change his orders.

Tanzer was red in the face. Keeping his voice very quiet. We cant reach your captain.

Why?

We dont know why. We think hes in committee meetings.

Go to Mazians office, colonel, I cant authorize a thing.

Weve been trying to reach him, lieutenant, and weve got your whole damned program about to destruct on us, out thereyoud better believe youre in a hot spot, and I wouldnt take you into confidence, you or your recruits, but we cant afford another shouting match for the committee. Were trying to save this program, were not arguing the value of human hands-on at the controls: you know and I know theres no way Unions tape-trained clones are any match for real human beings

Theyre not that easy a mark. Azi still arent an ai with an interdict.

Theyll crack. Theyll crack the same as anybody else. Their programs going to have the same limitations.

They wont crack, colonel, theyre completely dedicated to what theyre doing, thats what theyre created for, for Gods sake

You listen to me, lieutenant. I was in charge of the program that put your Victoria out there and I dont need to be told by any wet-behind-the-ears what a human pilot is worth, but, dammit! you automate when you have to. You dont hold on to an idea til it kills youwhich this is going to do if you screw up in there. You can lose the whole damned war in that hearing room, does that get through to you?

Colonel, in all respect to your experience

You go on listening. Yes, we had to have a show, yes, I subbed Wilhelmsen. Your boy Dekkers got problems. Serious problems. Tanzer pulled a datacard from his breast pocket.

Whats that?

A copy of Dekkers personnel file. Its damned interesting reading.

Damn, he thought. And hoped he kept anxiety off his face. It couldnt be Fleet recordsunless there was a two-legged leak in the records system.

Reckless proceeding and wrongful death. Tanzer pocketed the card again. You want the reason I subbed him? Theres a grieving mother out there thats been trying to get justice out of that boy of yours. Rape and murder

Neither of which is true.

I had, if you want to know, lieutenant, specific orders to pull Dekker off that demo, because Dekkers legal troubles were going to surface again the minute his name hit the downworld mediaand it would have.

On a classified test. He lost a partner out in the Belt. The incident isnt a secret in the Company. Far from it. Dont tell me you didnt know that, if youve got that record.

The name was going to surface, take my word for it. Hes politically hot, too damned hot to represent this programthats why I pulled him from that demo, lieutenant, and you had to ignore my warning. Stick to issues youre prepared to answer and leave Dekker the hell out of this. Cory Salazar. Does the name mean anything to you?

astex politics murdered Salazar.

Tell that to the mother. Tell that to the mama of the underage kid Dekker seduced out there.

That wasnt the way it happened, colonel.

You want to tell Salazars mother that,lieutenant? You want to tell that to a woman whos on the MarsCorp board? I couldnt put him in front of the media. I had to pull him off that team. You understand me? Im trusting you right now, lieutenant, with a critical confidence, because, dammit, youve raised the issue in there and youd better have the good sense to back off that point, waffle your way out of it and come into line if you want to keep your boy inside these walls. If he gets to be a media issue, hes dead. You understand that?

I understand Wilhelmsen died, I understand a whole crew died for a damned politicking decision

You think I dont care, lieutenant? Your boy Dekkers got a political problem and a mouth. And weve got a ship that kills crews and somebodys mother breathing down our necks, wanting your boys head on a platter. You hear me? I didnt screw Dekker. Your captain put him in that position, I didnt. Damned right I pulled him from what was scheduled to go public, and damned right I shut him up before he got to the VIPs we had onstation.

By shoving him into a pod unconscious?

No, damn you. I didnt.

Not lying, if he could rely on anything Tanzer said. Which he was far from sure of. You told him why you pulled him?

Trust that mouth? No. And dont you. Hear me? He got into that pod on his own. Leave it at that. Attempted suicide. Who knows? I wont contest that finding. But you shut it down with that. I know hes popular with your recruits. I know youve got a problem. But lets use our heads on this and you quieten matters down and get off that issue.

Damn and damn. Call the captain, was what he needed to do. But they werent sure the udc wasnt eavesdropping. And if Keu was currently caught up in committee at Sol

Ask Tanzer if FleetCom was secure? Hell if.

Wed better get in there, Tanzer said and opened the door and walked out.

Son of a bitch, Graff thought, what do I do? Demas is on board, Saitos on her way up there

He walked out, shut the door. Tanzer was down at the corner of the hall with Bonner, the two of them talking. He looked at his watch. One minute from late, the committee was about to convene. He could no-show, he could send Bonner word he was going to be late.

They could say any damned thing without hindrance then, finish the meeting without him in the time it would take to get to FleetCom, let alone confer with the captain.

Hed faced fire with steadier nerves. Hed made jumpspeed decisions easier with a ship at stake. There was no assurance Tanzer had told him the truth, or even half of it. There was no assurance they had ever tried to get to Keu, or Mazian, there was no assurance it was anything but a maneuver to silence him and ram something through, and there was not even absolute assurance theyd told the truth about political influence stalking Dekker, but if it was, God, somebody had found a damned sensitive button to push. If the Fleet didnt back Dekker, if the Fleet let Dekker take a grenadethe likes of Mitch and Jamil wouldnt stand still for it, thered be bloodshed, no exaggeration at all, the Belters would take the udc facilities apart first and work their way over to Fleet hq. Betray themand there was no trusting them, no relying on them, no guarantee the metal and the materials were going to go on arriving out of the Belt, and damned sure no crews to handle the ships.

Now he didnt know what Bonner was going to do in that hearing room. Or Tanzer. And he wasnt in a position to objecthe felt he was heading into a trap, going in there at all, but he followed them in and sat down in a decimated gathering.

Not a friendly face in the room. Not a one.

Bonner called the session to order, Bonner talked about high feelings over the tragic accident, Bonner talked about the stress of a job that called on men to risk their lives, talked about God and country.

Blue-sky language. Blue-sky thinking. Up to an Earther didnt refer to phase fields, war was two districts on a plane surface in a dispute over territory, and the United Nations was a faction-ridden single-star-system organization trying to tell merchanter Families what their borders were: explain borders to them, first.

You had to see a planet through optics and think flat surface to imagine how ground looked. He hadnt laid eyes on a planet til he was half-grown. He never had figured out the emotional context, except to compare it to ship or station, but there was something about being fixed in place next to permanent neighbors that sounded desperately unnatural. Which he supposed was prejudice on his side. Bonner talked about a righteous war. And he thought about ports and ships run by Cyteens tape-trained humanity, with mindsets more alien than Earths.

Bonner talked about human stress and interactive systems, while he thought about the Cluster off Cyteen, where startides warped space, and a ghosty malfunction on the boards you hoped to God was an artifact of that space, while a Union spotter was close to picking up your presence.

Bonner got Helmond Weiss on the mike to read the medical report. Telemetry again. More thorough than the post-mortem on the ship. Less printout. Four human beings hadnt output as much in their last minutes as that struggling ai had. Depressing thought.

Then the psych lads took the mike. Were Wilhelmsens last decisions rational? the committee asked point-blank. And the psychs said, hauling up more charts and graphs, Increasing indecision, and talked about hyped senses, maintained that Wilhelmsen had gone on hyperfocus overload and lost track of actual time-flow

 making decisions at such speed in such duration, it was pure misapprehension of the rate at which things were happening. No, you couldnt characterize it as panic

 evidence of physiological distress, shortness of breath, increase in REM and pulse rate activated a medical crisis warning with the ai

The carriers ai didnt have time to reach the rider? a senator asked.

And get the override query engaged and answered, no, there wasnt time.

Playback of the final moments on the tape. The co-pilot, Pete Fowler, the last words on the tape Fowlers, saying, Hold it, hold it

That overlay the whole reorientation and firing incident, at those speeds. The panel had trouble grasping that. They spent five minutes arguing it, and maybe, Graff thought, still didnt realize the sequence of events, or that it was Fowler protesting the original reorientation.

You didnt have time to talk. Couldnt get a word out in some sequences, and not this one. Fowler shouldnt have spoken. Part of it was his fault. Shouldnt have spoken to a strange pilot, who didnt know his contexts, who very well knew they didnt altogether trust him.

The mike went to Tanzer. A few final questions, the committee said. And a senator asked the question:

What was the name of the original pilot?

Dekker. Paul Dekker. Trainee.

What was the reason for removing him from the mission?

Seniority. He was showing a little stress. Wilhelmsen was the more experienced.

Like hell.

And the crew?

Senator, a crew should be capable of working with any officer. It was capable. There were no medical grounds there. The flaw is in the subordination of the neural net interface. It should be constant override with concurrent input from the pilot. The crafts small cross-section, its minimum profile, the enormous power it has to carry in its engines to achieve docking at highest v all add up to sensitive controls and a very powerful response

More minutiae. Keep my mouth shut or not? Graff asked himself. Trust Tanzer? Or follow orders?

Another senator: Did the sims run the same duration as the actual mission?

Not lately, Graff thought darkly, while Tanzer said, blithely, Yes.

Then a senator said: May I interject a question to Lt. Graff?

Bonner didnt like that. Bonner frowned, and said, Lt. Graff, I remind you youre still under oath.

Yes, sir.

The senator said, Lt. Graff. You were at the controls of the carrier at the time of the accident. You were getting telemetry from the rider.

Yes, sir.

The medical officer on your bridge was recorded as saying Query out.

Thats correct.

What does that mean?

It means shed just asked the co-pilot to assess the pilots condition and act. But the accident was already inevitable. Just not enough time.

Blinks from the senator, attempt to think through the math, maybe. Was the carrier too far back for safety?

It was in a correct position for operations. No, sir.

Was the target interval set too close? Was it an impossible shot?

No. It was a judgement shot. The armscomper doesnt physically fire all the ordnance, understand. He sets the priorities at the start of the run and adjusts them as the situation changes. A computer does the firing, with the pilot following the sequence provided by his co-pilot and the longscanner and armscomper. The pilot can violate the armscompers priorities. He might have to. There are unplotteds out there, rocks, for instance. Or mines.

Did Wilhelmsen violate the priorities?

Technically, yes. But he had that choice.

Choice. At those speeds.

Yes, sir. He was in control until that point. He knew it was wrong, he glitched, and he was out. Cold.

Are you a psychiatrist, lieutenant?

No, sir, but I suggest you ask the medical officer. There was no panic until he heard his crews alarm. That spooked him. Their telemetry reads alarmfirst, sir. His move startled them and he dropped out of hype.

The lieutenant is speculating, Bonner said. Lt. Graff, kindly keep to observed fact.

As a pilot, sir, I observed these plain facts in the medical testimony.

Youre out of order, lieutenant.

One more question, the senator said. Youre saying, lieutenant, that the tetralogic has faults. Would it have made this mistake?

No, but it has other flaws.

Specifically?

Even a tetralogic is recognizable, to similar systems. Machine can counter machine. Human beings can make decisions these systems dont expect. Longscan works entirely on that principle.

Are you a computer tech?

I know the systems. I personally would not go into combat with a computer totally in charge.

The senator leaned back, frowning. Thank you, lieutenant.

May I make an observation? Tanzer asked, and got an indulgence and a nod from Bonner.

Tanzer said: Let me say this is an example of the kind of mystical nonsense Ive heard all too much of from this service. Whatever your religious preferences, divine intervention didnt happen here, Wilhelmsen didnt stay conscious long enough to apply the human advantage. Human beings cant defy physics; and the lieutenant sitting behind his carriers effect shields can maintain that spacers are somehow evolved beyond earthly limitations and make their decisions by mysterious instincts that let them outperform a tetralogic, but in my studied and not unexpert opinion, theres been altogether too much emphasis in recruitment based on entry-level skills and certain kinds of experiencemeaning a practical exclusion of anyone but Belters. The lieutenant talks about some mysterious unquantifiable mentality that can work at these velocities. But Id like to say, and Dr. Weiss will back me on this, that theres more than button-pushing ability and reflexes that make a reliable military. There is, very importantly, attitude. Theres been no background check into volunteers on this project

Dammit, hes going to do it

 in spite of the well-known unrest and the recent violence in the Belt. We have a service completely outside the authority of the udc trying to exclude the majority of Sol System natives from holding a post on weapons platforms of enormous destructive potential, insisting we take their word Tanzers knuckles rapped the table.  that the policies and decisions of the UN, the world governments, and even Company policy will be respected and observed outside this system. Its imperative that these ships not remain under the control of a cadre selected by one mans opinion of their fitness for command, a man not in any way native to Earth or educated to Earths values. The Fleet is pushing qualifications arbitrarily selected to exclude our own military in command positions, for what motive leaves me entirely uneasy, sirs.

Some things a man couldnt hear and keep his mouth shut. General, Graff said. Id like to make my own statement in answer to that.

This isnt a court of law, lieutenant. But youll have your say. In the meantime, the colonel has his.Go on, colonel.

Graff let go a breath and thought, I could walk out, now. But to what good? To what living good? Im in it. The Captains can disavow what I say. They can still do that. But Tanzer wanted to cut a deal. Tanzer wanted me to agree on the redesign and what good is my agreement to them, what could it possibly influence if this committees already in their pocket?

Tanzer said, There are two reasons why I favor a tetralogic system. This ship is too important and too hazardous to civilian targets to turn over to personnel in whose selection our values have never been a criterion. Ive been asked privately the reason for the substitution

My God, here it goes.

In the recess Ive also been asked the reason for the morale difficulties in this old and time-tried institution. Gentlemen, it lies in the assumption that these machines are flyable only by super-humans personally selected by Conrad Mazian and his hand-picked officers. Earth is being sold a complete bill of goods. Conrad Mazian wants absolute control of an armada Earth is sacrificing considerably to build. Whats the differencecontrol of the human race by a remote group of dissidentsor by a merchanter cartel with a powerful lobby in the halls of the Earth Company administration? These ships and the carriers should be under udc command and responsible to the citizens of the governments that fund them, not to a self-appointed committee of merchantmen with their own interests and their own priorities.

Bang went the gavel. The growing murmur from the committee and the aides and witnesses ebbed down, and Tanzer went on:

Youve seen an unfortunate incident in this hearing room, resultant from what the Fleet calls discipline, beginning with the concept of command by committee and ending with the uniform variances that permit Belter enlistees to dress and act like miners on holiday. The carrier that is allegedly on operational alert at this moment for the protection of Earth itself doesnt even have its senior pilot at this facility, while Captain Keu is on an indefinite leave to Sol One. Junior lieutenant Graff insists hes qualified in an emergencybut his heads of station outrank him, a prime example of merchanter command order, and if he says decisions have to come at light speed, and he cant have an ai breathing down his neck, what does he say about a committee of senior officers calling the shots for him on the flight deck?

He stood up. I object, general.

Sit down, lieutenant. The gavel banged. Before I find you in contempt of this committee and have you arrested.

He sat. He was no good in the brig. The captain and the Number Ones needed to hear the rest of it. Accurately.

Tanzer said: We need a disciplined system that can let us substitute a pilot, a tech, a scan operator, anybody in any crew, because this isnt the merchant trade were running, ladies and gentlemen, its war, in which there are bound to be casualties, and no single man is indispensable. There has to be a chain of command responsible to legitimate policies of the Defense Department, and in which there is absolutely no leeway for personalities too talented and too important to follow orders and do their job.

He couldnt stay quiet. You mean downgrade the ship until cargo pushers can fly it!

Bang went the gavel. Lieutenant!

Echoes in the core. High up in the mast sounds came faint as ghosts; not like R2 where half-refined ore shot through zero-cold, and thundered and rumbled like doom against the chamber walls. In this vast chamber sims whirled around the chamber on mag-levs and came like tame, dreadful flowers to the platforms, giving up or taking in their human cargoes

You carded in before you launched. The pods Adaptive Assists recognized you, input your values, and you input your tape for the sim you were running. You fastened the one belt that locked the others. But something was wrong. The pod started to move and he couldnt remember carding in, couldnt think through the mounting pain in his head and the force pinning him to the seat

Cory! he yelled. Tried to yell. Cory, hold on!

But he couldnt reach the Abort. Couldnt see it, couldnt reach it, and the damn sim thought the belts were locked. Mayday, he called over com, but it didnt answer. Someone had said hed earned it. Maybe Ben. Ben would have. But he didnt think Ben would have done this to him

Youre a damn screw-up! someone yelled at him. You screwed up my whole damn life, you son of a bitch! Whatd I ever do to deserve you?

Sounded like his mother. But his mother never grabbed him by the collar and hit him. That was Ben. Ben was the way out and he tried to listen to Ben, it was the only chart he had that made any sense now

Ben said, What day is it, damn you? And he honestly tried to remember. Ben had told him he had to remember.

I object vehemently, Graff said, calmly as he could, to the colonels characterization of myself, my captain, my crew and my service. I challenge the colonels qualifications to manage this program, when he has had no deepspace experience, no flight time at those speeds, no experience of system transit at those speeds; and neither have any of the medics whove testified. This He clicked a datacard onto the table, and remembered with a cold chill the one Tanzer was carrying. This is my personal medical record. I call that in evidence, on reaction times and general qualifications.

The gavel came down. Ill thank you to reserve the theatrics, lieutenant. This committee is not impressed. Youve asked to make a statement. Make it. I remind you youre under oath.

 Yes, general. I call the generals attention to the fact that he did not so admonish the colonel. Can we assume it was an oversight?

He expected the gavel. Instead Bonner leaned forward and said very quietly, The colonel knows hes under oath. Make your statement.

Its very brief. The colonel ordered me not to tell the truth to this committee.

There was a moment of silence. Bonner hadnt expected that shot. He should have. Bonner said, then, Are you through, lieutenant?

No, sir. He thought of Dekker. And the bloodied sim-pod. And wondered if he would see another day in this place. I intend to answer the committees questions. If it has any.

A long silence, subjective time. Then a senator asked, You think you could have flown the rider?

If I were trained to do that, yes, maam.

You couldnt, say, step from the carrier into the ridership. Given familiarity with the interfaces.

Ive had years of training for the mass and the characteristics of a large ship. Cross-training could confuse me. Jump makes you quite muzzy. Youre riding your gut reactions quite heavily in those first moments of entry. Certainly so in combat.

Another: You think a training program can produce that kind of skill, here, in a matter of months.

No, sir. Not without background experience, I dont.

Thats why the Fleet didnt recruit from the local military. Test pilots like Wilhelmsenhe could have done it. Ive no wish to downplay his ability. He was good. Wed have taken him in a moment if the udc had wanted to release him. Or if he had wanted to go.

Are you doing the recruiting, now? Bonner asked. Or speaking for Captain Mazian?

Im agreeing with the colonel, sir, based on my knowledge of Wilhelmsens ability. But that ability cant be trained in the time we need; we need prior experience. We particularly need crews that can feel insystem space. The Shepherds and the miners and insystem haulers arent trainees as the term implies; and theyre not eighteen-year-old recruits who think a mass proximity situation is an exam problem.

What is a mass proximity situation, lieutenant?

God.

A collision alert, sir. It was the least vivid description that leapt to his mind. He had no wish to offend the senator. The senator laughed, like a good politician, and leaned back.

Another asked, Lieutenant?

Yes, sir.

To what government do you hold loyalty?

A handful of days ago he would have said something about historical ties, a center for the human species. But he didnt want to get into abstracts. Or create any apprehension of an outsider viewpoint. He looked the senator in the eyes and said quietly, To Earth, sir.

But the answer appeared to take the man aback; and it struck him then for the first time that he was looking at Earth, at this table: a row of incomprehensible special interests. None of them could see Earth from the outsidethe techs from subsidiaries of the Earth Company; the senators from the Pan-Asian Union and Europe. Bonner, from the Western Hemisphere. (Who first defined east and west? he wondered, hyperfocusing, momentarily as bereft of referents as they were, taking in everything. Politics of dividing oceans? And why not north and southexcept the ice?)

The same senator asked, And these recruits from the Belt? To whom are they loyal?

Touchy question. A good many Belters were political exiles from Earth. He said, Im sure theyd tell you, individually, whatever their concept is. The human race, certainly. The one that nature evolved on this planet, not the one from labs on Cyteen.

Loyalty to themselves, would you say?

He quoted Bonner. Isnt that the issue of the war, senator? Freedom of conscience?

Silence from Bonner. Deathly silence.

If this design goes ai, Graff continued quickly, wishing for Saitos eloquence, so the enemy can predict it; or if some legislative compromise replaces our command with officers who dont know jumpspace tacticswell die, ship by ship. Then let the udc hold the line with no carriers, no deepspace crews. Lose us and you wont have the merchanters. You wont have the far space stations. Were the ones that have risked everything carrying out your orders, trying to hold the human race together. Whats on Cyteen isnt like us.

Bonner said, Lieutenant, tell me, what do you care if Earth ceases to exist?

He said, halfway into it before he remembered whose quote it was,  If Earth didnt exist, wed have to create one. 

Emory of Cyteen had said, a now-famous remark: We all need to be from somewhere. We need a context for the genome. Lose that and we lose all common reference as a species.

But the committee didnt seem to recognize the source. Likely they couldnt recall the name of Cyteens Councillor of Scienceor conceive of the immense arrogance in that statement. Cyteen was terraforming, hand over fist. Ripping a world apart. Killing a native ecology, replacing itand humanitywith its own chosen design. Hed seen the classified reports. And he wasnt sure Bonner had. Mazian was taking those records to the highest levels of the Company and the UN.

A senator said, Were here to discuss technology. The fitness of a machine.

The fitness of the men who fly it, Bonner said, is also at issue.

The pod reoriented. Flesh met plastics. Dekker tried to defend himself, but something grabbed his collar, held him. Someone shook him, and said, Straighten up, you damned fool, or Ill hit you again.

Trying to, he told Bens hazy image, and tasted blood in his mouth.

Why in hell? Ben asked him. Why in hell dyou have to ask for me?

Dunno, dunno, Ben. Blood tasted awful. He tried to get his breath and Ben shoved him back against the pillows. Ben looked like hell.

Ben still had his fist wrapped in his collar. Ben gave him another shove. I cant blame whoever shoved you in that simulator. Youre a pain in the ass, you know that? Youre a damned recurring pain in the ass!

Yeah, he said. He didnt want his lips to tremble, but they did, and tears stung his eyes. A long, long time hed been alone. Thered been others, but theyd died, and Ben hadnt, Ben wouldnt, Ben was too hard to catch and Ben wouldnt get himself killed for anybody. He trusted Ben that way. Ben was too slippery for the sons of bitches.

Someone shadowed the doorway.

Need to check his blood pressure, sir.

Somebody had said something about Have a nice trip. Someone whod told him go to hell

He caught at the bed. Caught at Bens arm as Ben started to get up and turn him over to the nurse. No.

Your blood pressures getting up, Mr. Dekker.

Screw it.Ben,

Lieutenant.

He swung his legs off the bed, made a try at getting up and the room went upside down. The nurse made a grab after him, he saw the blue uniform, and he elbowed it aside. He caught himself with a grip on the edge of the bed.

But Ben was gone. Ben had left him, and the nurse got a hand on his shoulder and his arm. Just lie down, Mr.Dekker. Lie down.Howd he get in here, anyway? Visitors arent supposed to be in here.

He didnt know either. But a lot of things happened here that shouldnt. And he hadnt been dreaming. Ben had been there. He had a cut inside his lip and a coppery taste in his mouth that proved it, no matter what the nurse said about visitors. He lay down and ran his tongue over that sore spot, thinking, through the shot and everything, Bens here, Bens here and knowing it was Sol Two where Ben had found him: Ben hated him; but Ben had got here, Ben talked sense to him and didnt confuse him. Even if Ben wanted to beat hell out of him. He liked that about Benthat for all Ben wanted to go on beating hell out of him, Ben hadnt. Ben had held on to him. Ben had shaken him and told him where rightside up was and told him to get there. Only advice hed trusted in days. Only voice hed wanted to come back to, since

since his crew died. Died in a fireball he wasnt in. Couldnt have been in, since he wasnt vapor.

Somebodyd said, later, Enjoy the ride, Dekker.

He couldnt remember who. Someone hed known. But the voice had no color in his mind. No sound. And he couldnt recover it.

They said, shadows leaning over him, Need to keep that blood pressure down, Mr. Dekker, and he said: Screw all of you, I dont need your help, and kept his eyes shut.

Whine of mag-levs. You got that through the walls. There was light out there, but it didnt diffuse, despite the distances across the huge sim chamber, where a solitary pod was working. There was a safety stand-down in effect. Lendler Corp techs were doing an inspection on this shift, remoting the pod from the number two access. You could see the light on, far across the chamber.

Easy ways to get hurt out there. Pods pulled a lot of g s, positive and negative. Graff touched the cold plastics of the dead panel, drifting in the zero g, antagonizing an already upset stomach, and watched the pod, figuring how hard a body could hit, repeatedly, during that gyrating course. Dekker was strong for his slight frame. Only thing that had saved him. God only knew how conscious hed been, but enough hed protected his head somehow. And his neck and his back and the rest of his bones. The meds who hadnt seen the inside of the pod had said the belts must have come loose. But the belts had been locked together under Dekker, deliberately to fool the safety interlocks, by somebody who hadnt left printsunless it was the last man to use the pod, and that was Jamil, who hadnt a motive that he knew. Belts locked underneath Dekkerotherwise the pod wouldnt have moved. The mps report had said: Suicide is not ruled out.

Suicide, to have a MarsCorp councillor on your case?

Suicide, to call Tanzer a bastard?

Dont let it get to you, Saito had said, when hed called the carrier to tell them the hearing was over. Midge had hand-carried his report to the ship and a long transmission had gone out to the captain by now. Tanzer was going to rebound off the walls tomorrow.

But the report was at Sol One by now. So far as what he dared send the captain, the most urgent matter was one name, of everything related to the accident: Salazar. The rest was in Dekkers file. Beyond that, Keu needed to know how Bonner and Tanzer had run the hearing; needed to know how his Helm Two had answered the questions, right or wrong.

Helm Two had underestimated Tanzer, that was the fact, Tanzer had thrown him a last minute set of choices in which his refusal to go against Keus orders, and a lone lieutenants blind run through a mine-field, Tanzer had said it, might just have lost the program tonight, lost the war for the whole human race, literally, right in that hearing room this eveningif somebody wiser and better at politics couldnt somehow take the pieces and put them together with more skill than he had mustered in front of that committee.

He was tired, God, he was tired, and he had had no business coming here. He wasnt doing entirely rational things now, hed sent word with Midge where he was going and put com on alert, but he hadnt come to the Number Ones for aid and comfort and he was refusing to, knowing nothing they could tell him was of any use, since they didnt know any more than he did what was going on. Hed made some critical judgements left and right of the course hed hoped to hold in the hearing and in his dealings with Tanzer, and he was avoiding their input til hed mapped out the sequence and sense of those judgement calls, that was what he suddenly realized was pushing his buttons right nowhe wanted to know the answers; and if he could shove Bonner and Tanzer into a move of some kind, even an assassination attempt, hed know, all right; hed have proof: more than that, the senators might have it, before they left here at maindawn: Explain that one, cover another attempted murder, Bonner, while the committees still on station

Otherwise, if Tanzer was only tracking him and more innocent than he judged, let Tanzer sweat what he was up tolooking for clues, maybe, trying to find something to prove Dekkers case, something politically explosive. Legal troubles in Dekkers pastit was all backgrounded, solved, just one of the connections Dekker had had and left when he left the Belt. He didnt go off Sol Two, he took no leaves, but there had been no particular reason for Dekkers name to rouse any anxieties in Defensecertainly no reason to fear him getting to the media, Dekker was allergic to cameras and microphones, Dekker certainly didnt want publicity bringing his name up again, any more than Defense did; and evidently thered been a decision to take Hellburner public if the test succeeded. So someone high in the Defense Department had said pull him.

That being the casethe line certainly led to Salazar; and Salazar lived behind the ec security wall, the same ec that they were fighting for. That was a worry, and a real one, if the woman had penetrated security channels and found out what Dekker was working on, and where he was.

There wastop of the list regarding Dekkers injuriesWilhelmsens crew. Dekker hadnt been tactful. Dekker was, Pollard had said it, volatile. There was a lot of that in the crews theyd recruitedincluding the udc test pilots. You could begin to wonder was it a pathology or a necessary qualification for this shipor was it the result of ramming crews together in a handful of years, the few with the reflexes, the mental quicknessthe top of the above-average in reaction time, who didnt, even on a family ship, necessarily understand slower processers, or understand that such slower minds vastly outnumbered them in the population? Hed told Tanzer, You cant train what we need he hoped hed gotten that across at least to one of the committee, but there was no knowinghed never excelled, himself, at figuring people: hed certainly failed to realize how very savvy Tanzer could be in an argument.

He had his pocket com. The captain might send him word at any hour, please God, and give him specific instructions, either for a bare-ass spacewalk or a steady-on as he was bearing and hed rather either right now than chasing might-have-beens in circles. After a jump you got a solid Yes, youd survived it. But right now he could wonder whether the fso was still operating on Sol One, or whether something might have gone wrong at levels so high the shockwave had yet to hit Sol Two. For all he knew the committee had been the shockwave of a udc power grab and hed just self-destructed in it.

Or why else hadnt they heard anything? Or why, according to the news that he had heard before hed left the office, was Mazian still smiling his way from council to council in the European Union, and making no comment about the accident, except that a routine missile test had had a problem.

The pod flashed by, unexpectedly, filling the viewport. His heart jumped. He watched the pod whip across the far side and felt queasy after the visual shock. Dekkers pod had been running on the mission tape. Dekker had seen the accident. Theyd treated him for shock, hed gotten out of hospital and turned up here, at shift-change, in a pod repeating the exact accident set-up. On loop. Was there anything in that, but vindictiveness?

Higgins said only that Dekker had lucid moments. No recollection, most times no awareness even where he was. Cory Salazar had died out in the Belt. Dekker was back in that crack-up. Over and over and over.

Check-in records had listed no udc personnel as in the area. The mission sims tape was checked out to Dekkeras mission commander, hed had one in his possession. Dekker had been in hospital. One would have expected that that tape had been with his effects. Security should have collected it, with the tapes in all crews possession, living and dead. But Library hadnt checked Dekkers in: Dekker was alive, and unable to respond to requests for the tape, Security said, theyd decided not to seek an order to get it from his effectswhich would have had the Provost Marshals staff going into Dekkers locker while Dekker was alive, a violation of policy in the absence of charges.

A hatch door crashed and echoed at the distant end of the access tube. The lift had just let someone in. The Lendler Corp techs, maybe, moving up to this bay. But the light was still on over there. And the pod was still running, the mag-levs whiting out anything but the loudest sounds.

Damn, he thought, Tanzer might be a fool after all. He might have his answer, all right: and if he and his didnt make the right moves now, he might become the answer. Hed gotten colder, standing here, and he had a sudden weak-kneed wish to be wrong about Tanzerhe hadnt thought through what hed done in the hearing yet, he wasnt ready or willing to make gut level choices in a physical confrontation. He closed his fist around the bolt in his pockethed collected that from the desk; he drifted free and took out the pocket com hed collected too. D-g, this is 7-A11, sim bay 2. QE, C-2-6,

copy?

7-All, this is Snowball, C-2-6, on it, thats 03 to you, dammit, seal that door!

Saito was on com. Saito must be lurking over Dan Washingtons shoulder and the pocket com was wide open now and logging to files on the carrier. Saito wasnt as accepting of harebrained excursions as Dan was, Saito must have gotten uneasy, and, onto Helm Twos side excursion, was probably calling Demas in, besides having Security closer than hed set them. But they would or wouldnt come in, depending on what Saito heard. Meanwhile he watched the hand-line quiver along the side of the lighted tube. Someone was on it, now, below the curve of the tube. Several someones, by the feel as he touched it.

First figure showed in the serpentine of lights, monkeying along the line. Not udc . Their own. Flash of jewelry, light behind blond hair.

Friendly fire incoming, then. Not udc : Mitch. He drew a breath, focused down off the adrenaline rush toward a different kind of self-protection, said to the com, Snowball, easy on, before Security came in hard. More of them behind Mitch: Jamil, Almarshad Pauli. A delegation. The Shepherds didnt have access to query over com. Saito was sure to give him hell; the Shepherds had tracked him, never mind Tanzers boys might haveit wasnt a good time he was having right now; and he hoped it wasnt a breaking problem that had brought them here. He couldnt take another.

He held his position as the Shepherds gathered in front of the open door, drifting hands-off on the short tether of their safety-clips, in the frosty-breathed chill and the low rhythmic hum of the mags. Hear it was bloody, Mitch said.

How did you hear? Whats security worth in this place?

Jamil shrugged, tugged at the line to maintain his orientation. 2-level bar. Aerospatiale guys with a few under their belts. Saying Bonners pissed. Tanzers pissed. Bonner told some female committee member it wasnt really important she understand the technicals of the accident, or the tetralogic, she should just recommend the system go ai.

Damn, he said, but Jamil was grinning.

Happens Bonner mixed up his women and his Asians. Turned out shes Aerospatiales number two engineer.

He had to be amused. He grinned. And he knew that via his open com, Bonners little faux pas was flying through the carrier out there, for all it was worth. So the J-G wasnt the only one who could talk his way into trouble.

But that was one engineer and one company, with no part of its contract at issue: Aerospatiale was the engines, and they werent in question.

The Belter trash, as they called themselves, wanted to know how it had gone. Correction, they knew how it had gone. He didnt know how theyd found him, didnt know what they expected him to say. He hadnt delivered. Not really. They couldnt think he had.

What are you guys doing here?

They didnt know how to answer, evidently: they didnt quite look him in the eye. But maybe he halfway understood what was in their mindsa feeling theyd been collectively screwed, the way the Belters would say. And that together was better than separate right now.

How did you find me?

Mitch said, Phoned Fleet Security. They knew.


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Chapter 5
 ^ 
2-deck 229 was a tacky little hallway in a tacky little facility that met you with a security-locked, plastic-protected bulletin board that said things like, no alcohol in quarters and remember the 24-hr restrictions, along with sim schedule and lost card, desperate, bill h. smith.

Humanitarian transfer, hell. You couldnt shoot a Fleet officer. Wasnt legal. Couldnt even kill Dekker, who didnt know what was going on, who just looked at you and said, Yeah, Ben. All right, Ben. Like you could do anything you wanted to him, the worst had already happened.

Bloody hell.

He found Barracks C. He walked in, where a handful of guys with a vid-game looked up and got up and stared at him, a solid wall of hostility.

Lost? one of them asked.

Im fuckin assigned here, he muttered, and got dismay and frowns.

No such, one said, Belter accent thick and surly. udc shave-head? You got the wrong barracks, loo-tenant.

Fine. Great. He said, in deep Belter brogue, Not my pick, mate, they do the numbers.

Wasnt what they expected out of a udc mouth. Postures altered, faces did.

You wouldnt be Pollard, would you?

Hed hoped to get to his assigned bunk, nothing more. But there was no good making enemies here. He said, grudgingly, Yeah. Benjamin J. and saw expressions go on changing for the positive. Not the reaction he generally got from people.

Pollard. The head troublemaker came over. Almarshad. A gesture to left and right, behind him. Franklin and Pauli. Whats the word on Dekker?

Dekker didnt attract friends either, not among people who really knew him; and when a guy introduced himself the way Almarshad did you should worry about bombs. He shook Almarshads offered hand, said, conservatively, Not the best Ive ever seen him, and watched reactions. Looked like they were friends of Dekkers. And it was true Dekker was a Cause in the Belt. A Nameamong people who didnt know him. Not with Shepherds, much as he knew, and that was what this set looked to bebut it could be Dekker had found a niche in this classified hell.

Franklin asked,

He say who hit him?

Or these guys could be the committee that put Dekker in hospital, for all he knew.

He said, again carefully, Bounced on his head too often. I dont know. He doesnt.Friends of his, are you?

Almarshad seemed to comprehend his reserve, then, frowned and said, Hes got no enemies in this barracks. You keeping that uniform?

He hadnt many allegiances in his life. But, hell, the udc fed you, gave you everything you could dream of, held out the promise of paradise, until Dekker helpfully dropped your name in the wrong classified earswhich landed you up to your ears in an interservice feud; and now some Shepherd-turned-bluecoat wanted to make an issue of your uniform? Hell, yes, you could take offense at being pushed. Yeah, Im keeping it. Far as I know.

Shit, Pauli said with a roll of his eyes, and turned half away and back again with an outheld hand. Tanzer give you your orders?

I dont know who gave me my orders. Captain over fso Keu got me out here. The Fleet got me out here. Humanitarian leave. Now its a fuckin humanitarian transfer, I cant find my fuckin baggage, I cant find my fuckin bunk, I got no damn choice, here, mister! Im supposed to be in Stockholm! Id rather be in Stockholm, which I wont now!Im a security Priority 10, and they got me in here for reasons I dont know, with a damn classified order Im probably securitied high enough to read. But you dont question orders here, Im certainly finding that out!

A hand landed on his shoulder. Almarshad. Easy. Easy. Pauli means to say welcome in. Tanzers a problem, we know who you are, we know damn well youre not his boy.

I dont fuckin know Tanzer!

Better off, Franklin said under his breath. Whereve they got you? What room?

We got rooms. Thank God. Said justhere.

Youre Dekkers, then. A-10. Demi-suites. If you count four bunks and a washroom.

Personally he didnt. But hed been prepared for worse in the short term. He said, Thanks, and took the pointed finger for his guide.

Hell if, he kept saying to himself. Hell if Im going to stay here. Hell if this is going to be the rest of my life,Mr. Graff, sir.

Hed flunked his Aptitudes for anything remotely approaching combat, deliberately and repeatedly: he couldnt pass basic without a waiver for unarmed combat on account of a way-high score in technical; hed worked hard to clean the Belter accent out of his speech and to fit in with blue-skyers and here he was resurrecting it to deal with some sumbitch Shepherd whod have walked over him without noticing, back in R2. Get into technical, get his security clearance get connections and numbers,the same as hed had in R2,that was his priority. His co back in ti,WeiterWeiter had connections, Weiter had let him make his rating in very fast order, and George Weiter had had the discriminating good sense to screw the regs, bust him past the basics and into levels where he could learn from where he was and get at those essential, top-level access numbers.

No guns, damned sure, nothing to do with guns. Hed made sure of that.

And here he was busted to a pilot trainee rating? It was crazed. It was absolutely insane. It was going to get fixed. Get to Weitersomehow. Get to somebody up in hq. In Stockholm. Fast.

He located A-10, at the corner of the hall, opened the door

And found his lost luggage in the middle of the darkened room.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

The shuttle was in Servicing, the politicians, the engineers, the corporate execs and the general were tanking up in Departures, and now reality came due. Now it was back to dealing with Tanzer on a daily, post-hearing basis, and the Fleets independence notwithstanding, when the udc co sent a See Me at 0800h, the Fleet Acting Commander had to show up.

Hes expecting you, the aide said. Graff said a terse Thank you, opened the door and walked into the fire zone.

Lt. Graff, Tanzer said.

Colonel, Graff said and stood there neither at ease nor at attention while Tanzer stared at him.

Tanzer rocked his chair back abruptly and said, I expect cooperation.

Yes, colonel.

Yes, colonel, what?

Whatevers good for the program, colonel.

And what do you think that is, now, would you say?

Colonel, you know my opinion.

The chair banged level. Damn your opinion! What are you trying to do to this program?

Trying not to lose a carrier, when its riders fail. Ill be in it. You wont, colonel.

I wont, will I? Im on the line here, you sonuvabitch.

Not for the same stakes, colonel, forgive me.

You son of a bitch.

After a sleep-short night that opening was extremely welcome. Tanzer was angry. Tanzer wasnt satisfied with what had gone down. That could be good newsif it wasnt the demise of the program Tanzer was foreseeing.

Tanzer said, with a curl of his lip, Two more of your recruits are in from the Belt, Im sure youll be delighted with that. And Lendler Corp is recommending the Fleet change its security regulations with the sim tapes. And who in hell transferred Pollard into your command?

My command?

Your command, your captains command, your navigators command for all I know, who knows whos in charge in your office? You have a udc trainee in your program, Mr. Graff, do you want to tell me just how that happened?

He wasnt sure whether Tanzer was in his right mind. Or what in hell was going on. He said, I dont know. Ill look into it.

Im already looking into it, Im looking into it all the way to ti and Geneva. What do you say to that, Mr. Graff?

I dont know either, colonel. Ill find out.

Tanzer gave him a cold, silent stare. Then: You find out and you come tell me. Its one of those things I like to keep up with, whos where on this station. Just a habit of mine. I think you can understand that. Hearings over. Id like to clear the record, just get everything back in appropriate boxes. I think you can understand that too, cant you, lieutenant?

The passenger shuttle was going out, that was the maddening thing. But there was absolutely no question of Ben Pollard getting to it: it was ferrying the brass out from the hearing, the hearing was evidently over, Dekker hadnt remembered a thing he could take to Graff and get out of here, so evidently that wasnt his ticket outand, dammit! he wanted to talk to Graff, wanted to ask Graff to his face what kind of a double-cross had caught him in this damned illicit transfer. But Graff had been unavailable during the hearing, Graffs aides had only cared to ask if he had any report yet. Of course hed had to say no; so Lt. Graff hadnt seen fit to return his calls yesterday; Lt. Graff wasnt in his office this morning

While the transfer orders hed gotten said, Outside contact specifically denied.

So what was Outside? Sol One fso? Sol One udc ?Graffs office?

In a moment of wild fantasy he thought of risking his clearance, his career and a term in the brig, getting to the Departure lounge by hook or by crook, snagging some udc officer bound out of this station and protesting hed been kidnapped: contact Weiter on Sol One.

But there were serious problems with that scenario. Abundant problems. Chief among which was not knowing what he was dealing with, or what Dekker was involved in, or how much of that hearing had involved Dekker specifically and how much had involved a program in trouble.

He didnt unpack. Hed just looked for a change of clotheshed been washing clothes in hospice laundry every day, wrapped in a hospice towel while they dried, thank God hed had his shaving kit and two changes of shirts and underwear in his carry, but, God, he was glad to get his light station boots and his pullover, and find the textcards hed packed

And his personal computer, which thank God hadnt been damaged. Theyd searched his luggage. Theyd probably searched his computer files. Probably had to call in the station techs to read his to-do list, which now wasnt going to get done, if he couldnt get out of this. He entertained dark thoughts of finding a phone and using a handful of codes, but he didnt want the output directed to any terminal he owned. Or to his barracks. He figured all hed better do with the phone was find out what was in his file right now, which would happen the minute he used his card.

All right. But were not putting our only copy in, are we?

You couldnt copy a personal datacard. Copying was supposed to screw it. eidat said. Writing outside your personal memo area was supposed to screw it.

But eidat said a lot of things about security to its customers that didnt apply to its programmers: a few alterations to the 00 and the card would copyif you had the Programming OS on the card, which wasnt supposed to fit in the MEM area. But if you got creative with the allocations it would. Not that he didnt trust the integrity of the udc command here, not as if they just might have a watch on a Priority 10 right now that might notice him going out to the Exchange and buying a card with his remaining vending chits. But he could certainly sacrifice the chess gamecardeven in the paperless and police-controlled Belt, Customs had never quite apprehended gamecards and vidcards as write-capable media.

Yeah.

Quick sand-down of the gamecard edge on the nailfile he carried, a little application of clear nailpolish, available locally, at certain contact pointsand you could write to it quite nicely. The cheerful, bright commercial label said it was a patented gamecard, a lot of worn-at-the-edges cards were out there that did show the critical contacts. eidat certainly didnt want to advertise the procedure even to the police, because people with access to eidat systems code didnt ever pirate gamecards. No. Of course not.

He stuck the datacard in the second drive and had his datacard copy in a nice secure place in quarters before he went out to the wall phone in the barracks main hall. He stuck his datacard into the slot. The write-function clicked. The new readout said caf, mkt and msfunc. priority ms was blinking.

He keyed ms and the hash mark. It said, Report to Lt. Graffs office, 0900h.

And funny to say, when he tried to call over to Graffs office on a level 10, his level 10 authorization wouldnt work. Son of a bitch, he thought, smug, amused, and furious. He had to do it on a lowly level 3. They had fried his accesses. And he was illegal as hell now, with that other card as a holdout. Question waswhich service had pulled his security clearance.

So Graff wanted to talk to him. And it was 0848 right now. He had about time to get his ass over to Graffs office, and find out such facts as Graff was willing to tell him about his transfer

Which he was about to do when he caught sight of the two females lugging duffles into the barracks main hallone dark-skinned, one light, one with a headful of metal-capped braids and one with a shave-strip of bright red curls.

My God

He hung up. He had the presence of mind to take his card out of the slot. He stood there while two of the most unlikely recruits in the solar system came down the center aisle to the catcalls of the bystanders, saw them look right past him as if he was part of the landscape.

Sal! he called out. Meg! and saw two pair of eyes fix on him, do a re-take of him and the uniform. Baggage hit the floor. The two best-looking women hed ever slept with ran up, grabbed him, both, and kissed him breathless, one and the other.

Couldnt hurt a mans reputation. Whistles and howls from the gallery. He caught his breath, besieged with questions like what was he doing here, what was this about Dek, and how was he?

Questions without an easy answer. What are you two doing here? he asked, and got a stereo account: theyd gotten the word Dekker was in some kind of accident, theyd gotten word they were shipping a carrier out

God, that thing moves Sal said.

So we rode it in and transferred over on the shuttle, Meg said. And these damn mps have got to stall us up with questions, shit! of-fi-cers and VIPs all over the place. Hows Dek, for Gods sake, he got all his pieces?

Everything youd be interested in.You enlisted? That didnt fit his expectations, didnt fit what hed been reading in Dekkers letter file.

They hail us down, Sal said, in Jupiters own lap, a carrier pulls up and says, Have you got Kady? And wants to talk to us. Wants to talk to Meg. And Meg talks to the Man, and we get this news Deks in hospitalsome kind of crack-up, theyre saying, and theyd kindly give us a ride insystem

Shepherds began to ooze over. One said, Well, well, look what pulled in. Hiya.

Meg looked. Sal did. Ben didnt know the face, but Sal struck an attitude and said, Well, well, look at familiar facesthey let you in, Fly-by?

Laughter from all about. Not a nickname Fly-by seemed to favor. God, howd you get past? Belter accent, Shepherd flash. I thought they had criteria.

You skuz, Sal said, but it didnt have the edge of trouble. Sal put a hand on the skuzs shoulder, gave his arm a squeeze. Jamils a sumbitch, but hes an all right sumbitch. This is Ben Pollard.

Got the whole team, but Morrie, another said. Damn on!

Ben, where d we sleep? Meg asked. There were immediately other offers. Take you up later, Meg said. I got a date at the hospital, if I can get the pass they said I had

Get you to the room, Ben said, and, catching two elbows, hauled them along to 10-A. Good-natured protest followed from the rear, but it died, and a couple of guys, Jamil included, overtook them at the door, set down the baggage and made themselves absent. Thanks, he said; discretion was not dead here. Thanks, Meg called back, while he was opening the door. He put a hand on Sals back, got Megs arm and got them inside, into privacy.

Whatve we got? Sal said. Is my radar working, or what?

Its working, he said. We got a sumbitch in charge, same damn sumbitch switched Dekker out and some guy in on a test run and cracked up Dekkers crew, Dek-baby thinks hes in the fuckin Belt looking for Cory, and I got a meeting with Fleet Lieutenant J. Graff right on the hour. He had a sudden idea, fished his temp hospital card out of his uniform pocket, and held it up in front of Meg. This is a pass. Youre me, just put it in the slot at the main desk, wont trigger an alarm and in the remote chance they should ask, tell em Graff sent you. Dekkers in room 114. They pulled him out of a simulator beat to hell and concussed and theres some chance he didnt climb in there on his own, by what I can guess. Tell him straighten up. Tell him where he is, tell him I said so, tell him Im going to break his neck next time I see himIve got five minutes to make the lieutenants office

Somebody did it to him? Meg asked.

Hey. You know Dek. Theres got to be a waiting list. He recalled the atmosphere outside, and said, We got to talk. Fast. Sit. The lieutenant can wait five.

 
The sounds came and went. 2324. 2324. Dekker tried to remember. He said it to himself to remember. And maybe he was losing track of time, but it seemed to him breakfast had come and gone and Ben hadnt come this morning. That upset him. Ben kept saying he couldnt stay, and maybe hed just gone wherever Ben had to go to. He didnt even want to know where that was. He just wanted to go back into the dark if theyd let him alone, if there wasnt anybody going to come but doctors with tests and interns and if there was nothing to do but lie here and listen to the halls outside.

Dek? Female voice. Dek?

Voice he knew. Voice that shouldnt be here. So he was losing it. But if he was starting to hallucinate again maybe Ben wasnt gone. He came up out of the dark to see.

She was scarily real, Meg was, leaning over him. How you doing? she asked, and he said, Dunno, because he didnt. She smelled real, she looked real, she sounded real. She asked him, Anything wrong with the jaw?

No, he said, wondering why she asked, and Meg leaned down and kissed him the way shed kissed him goodbye once, which caught him short of breath and half-smothered and no little dizzy as it went on, but if this was going to turn into one of those dreams, he didnt mind, hed go out cold this way.

He got a breath, finally, he had Meg up close to his face, running a finger down his cheek, saying, You been through some severely bad business, Dek. But it wont happen again. Im here. Sals here. Bens here. We wont let the bastards get to you.

Good news. He really wanted to believe it. But he didnt let himself sink into the fantasy all the way. He only flirted with the idea, asking warily, Howd you get here?

She settled her hand on his, gave his fingers a squeeze. They sent to me in the Belt, said, You got a friend in trouble, you want to come, and I said, Sure. Why not? I could do with a change.

So she wasnt leveling with him. That could only mean his subconscious couldnt think of an answer. Second question: What about Sal?

Sal said she couldnt trust me on my own, said shed keep me honest.

Her fingers on his felt warm and solid. She was in Shepherd civvies, she had this fondness for big earrings and he didnt remember the ones she was wearing. He wasnt artistic, he couldnt make up ones he didnt know, spiral and gold with some kind of anodized bar down the middle. He couldnt make up the blue eyeshadow and the pink. He wouldnt put those colors together with red hair. But it looked good. She did. And her really, truly being here was crazier than his thinking she was.

Third question. Wheres Ben this morning?

Bens in the lieutenants office. Bens real pissed. Something about his security clearance and him supposed to be in Stockholmdidnt altogether make sense, but he was going to go complain.Whats this about you arguing with a simulator?

Panic hit him. But he didnt know why he should be afraid of Meg. Or Ben. Or why there was a gap around his recollection of the sim room. Sounds. Mag hum and sudden motion. Ominous. Something had happened under that sound.

Theres been a hearing, Meg said, senators all over the place. Theyre leaving. Ben asks if youd like to tell them anything. Says if you could tell them how you got banged up it might be a good idea.

Senators. Mission control. Rows of instruments. Instruments on the sim panel, just the same.

Shit, he breathed, feeling a cold sweat come on him. But it was all right, the memory was gone again. He willed his heart to slow down, stop fluttering like that: they filled him full of drugs if they caught his pulse up, and if they caught Meg here, Meg could be in troubleMeg might not come back. People went out the door and you didnt know if

the Companyd let them back.

No. Not the Company. Tanzer. The udc , that ran this place

Ben explained a skosh, Meg said, rab-speak, long time back, it seemed now. The Inner System had changed so, even in the few years hed been to the Belt and back. You dont got seriously to say: I know about the accident. But you got to get out of here, Dek, you got to get yourself straight. Ben said I should ask you the date.

2324, he said, and found it suddenly worth a laugh, with what breath he could find. 2324. Meg didnt know why that message from Ben should be funny and he couldnt explain, he hadnt the coherency to explain, he kept seeing the readouts in the spex in front of him, green and red and gold, and, dammit, he could make it, he couldve made it, but when he tried to imagine past that point the controls wouldnt work, werent going to work again until he could get his hands on them and change those numbers

Meg shook his shoulder. Heads up, Dek. First thing you got to do, you got to get straight. Ben said you didnt get into that pod on your own. That you should remember for him. He really needs that, Dek.

Sim room. Noise. And the memory just stopped. Got his pulse rate up again. Cant. Cant get hold of it, Meg. Meg

She leaned close and whispered in his ear, You want to go back to barracks and you and me do a little rec-time? Mmmn?

Offer like thatfrom Megcould raise a corpse. Megs touch on his cheek could. He thought about the barracks, had a sudden cold jolt, thinking of Meg there, and Ben and Sal; and not the faces he remembered. A whole puzzle-piece of his life just lifted out, gone, and another one clicked in, not the same shape, there were still dark spotsthered been another puzzle-piece before that; but it was close, it was damned close. Pete and Elly and Falcone, they wouldnt have understood Meg. Wouldnt have gotten on with her, not easy. Might not get on with Sal or Ben. Cory either. He looked Meg in the eyes and remembered his blood pressure, realized he wasnt wearing the sensor.

Several things clicked into place. Where he was. How he hadnt gotten his shot this morning, either. How he was clearer-headed now than hed been since

More panels. Instruments red-lighting. Alarms screaming. Inner ear going crazy.

You all right, Dek? Finger along his cheek. Youre white. You want me to call a doctor? Dek?

He shook his head, suddenly sure of that. He sucked in a breath and got an elbow up under him, to see if his head was going to spin. Weak, God. Meg was trying to help him, saying he should lie down. But he didnt think so, he had a bad feeling about lying down and letting Meg call a doctor, theyd give him shots again and hed go to sleep and go on sleeping

He shoved up onto his hands, swung his feet over the edge. The room was tilting, felt like the pod, but he kept his eyes on the line where the wall met the floor. He sat there getting his breath and making the room stay steady.

You sure you better not get back in that bed?

He moved his arm. That shoulder had hurt. Didnt now, as much. He kept his eyes on that line and said, Want to get up, Meg. Just give me a hand.

She did that. He didnt need it to lean on. He just needed it steady. Second reference point. He made it to his feet, risked a blink, then shut his eyes and stood there a moment. He opened them and took a step, with Megs help. Shot to hell, he muttered. Too much zero g.

Does that to you, Meg agreed. Going back to it?

Inner ears playing me tricks. Another step. A third. He took a breath, let go her hand and took a fourth.

They ought to have had you walking. Especially a spacer. Especially you. Whatre the doctors worth in this place?

A moment of vertigo. He got it back again. Meg, how in helld you get here? Months to get in from the Belt. Theyd told her he was in trouble? Time threatened to unravel again. Except

Just caught a passing carrier. You got people real worried about you, Dek. Important people.

Carrier could make that passage in a handful of days. Better than that, the rumor was. And a carrier pulled Meg out of the Belt? Out of a berth shed risked her neck to get? Meg, make em send you back, dont get mixed up in this, I dont want you, I dont want you here

Hell if, boy-doll. Anyway, I signed the papers. Going to make me an officer

Oh, shit. Shit, Meg! The room went spinning. He just stared at Megs face for a reference point and kept his feet and his knees from moving. You were where you wanted.

Yeah, well. Its not all al-tru-istic.You want to sit down, Dek?

No. A shake of his head that risked his balance. No. Im all right. I need to stand up. They wont let me stand up. Have I got any clothes in that locker?

Meg looked. He didnt dare track on her. She said, No.

Meg, I want you to go to the lieutenant

Graff?

Graff. I want you to go to him The place could be bugged. But there was nothing else to do. I want you to tell him I need help. I dont trust what theyre giving me. I want out of here.

This then or now, Dek? Whos doing this?

He tried a step and another one. His heart was pounding. Sounds came distant and strange. He walked as far as the door, opened it, and gambled his stability on a look at Meg. You remember your way out of here?

Yeah.

Ill walk you to the door. Five on ten I dont get that far. But youll know, then, wont you?

Shit, Dek.

Yeah. He took her arm. She grabbed his hand. Lets walk, huh?

Aboujib, Graff said, and put out his hand for a non-reg handshake. Dark-skinned, exotic as they came to Inner System eyes, and by Ben Pollards recommendation and the enlistment records, a Company-educated disciplinary washout whod gotten another kind of rep among the Shepherds. Jamil had been by to give him a quick word. Pollard had shown up for his appointment with Aboujib in towone Meg Kady was visiting Dekker on Pollards pass (Itll work in the lock, Pollard had said, with airy disregard of udc security, but Pollard was not unconcerned, Pollard had just smiled, put a thoroughly stripped personal card on his desk and said, Im screwed, sir. Do you think you could just possibly get somebody to do something about this? They just put me in your command, sir, Im udc , and Im mortally worried the colonels going to want to talk to me.

Hell in a handbasket. As the Earthers said. And here was the rest of Dekkers former crew, in on the Sol One shuttle without a word of explanation, warning, or advice what to do with them?

He wasnt highly pleased with the captain right now. Not pleased with Tanzer, not pleased with the situation, and not pleased to know one of the pair was loose in hospital on somebody elses Fleet pass.

But Jamil had been damned cheerful, saying, We got us a couple of recruits, lieutenant.Mitch is going to die.

It could give a man the feeling something was passing by him. And that things were careening out of control. Welcome in, Aboujib. Scan-tech, is it?

Yessir. Aboujib had a solid grip, a steady eye, a distractingly quirky dimple beside a pretty mouthand she was outside his crew and off limits, endit, right there. Not many women among the Shepherds and a consequent shortage of women in the program; and one of Dekkers former partners?

The captain had put Dekkers unit together again. That was what was happening. Keu wasnt saying a thingso FleetCom wasnt secure: the captain was just doing it, case by case: somebody had moved a carrier in from the Belt, for Gods sake, or Victoria was back in-system: no other way to ferry Aboujib and Kady here since the accident.

Which could mean the captain hadnt been on Sol One for the last week; could mean Mazian had interrupted his diplomatic receptions to take a hand; or it might mean Keu had help: cooperative command in actionCol. Tanzer, sir.

He said, Very glad to have you aboard, Aboujib and the phone beeped. His calls were routing through the carriers board and that wasnt to be ignored. He picked up the receiver, said, Graff here, and heard:

Lieutenant? Thin voice. Strained. Dekker. Need some help, sir.

Shove it! he heard in the background. Female voice. And something thumped.

A hand came under Dekkers arm. Pulled. The nurse took hold of Megs arm and lost that grip. Fast.

You want those fingers, mister, you keep em the fuck off my arm.

The nurse had hit an alarm, or something: a light was flashing. But Dekker knew where he was, he knew who was keeping his balance for him and hed trust Meg in the black deep of space. He said, Door, Meg. Now.

Hes not released, the nurse said. Other meds showed up. Higgins arrived at the desk, looked at Meg and said, Who are you?

Ben Pollard right now, Meg said. Bens getting my pass straightened out.

Get security, Higgins said to someone in the hall. Lt. Dekker, theyll take you to your room.

No such. He held his feet. Im going. Head was killing him. But standing was easier. Wheres my uniform?

Security showed up, mps, udc . An mp grabbed for Meg, and next thing he knew hed grabbed the mpthe guy looked at him, he looked at the guy with his fist doubled, but the mp with a fistful of his pajamas wasnt about to hit a hospital case. So he kept his hold on the mp, the mp kept his hold on him, and they stared at each other while the interns tried to drag him away. You tell Tanzer fuck himself. Hear?Meg? Get. Get out of here.

They told her, Youre under arrest. Youre not going anywhere, and Meg said,

Hell if. Spiel on, chelovek, a judge is going to hear every word of this. You seriously better not bruise him.

Now wait a minute. Higgins pulled the mp offtried to: he wasnt about to let go his only anchor, and Higgins was upset. All right, all right, calm down. Everybody calm down. Lt. Dekker, let go of him.

Things were graying out. But he got a breath and held on, said, rationally, he hoped, Im walking out of here and Im going back to my barracks.

Meg said, Dek, calm down.

Her, he listened to. Kept his grip the way the mp held on to him and listened to Meg say, He had a seriously bad time with Company doctors. Fed him full of prescription drugs, while he was spaced. You let him go. Hell be all right.

Im not a damn mental case, Meg.

Higgins said, smooth as silk, Were not maintaining that. Hes had concussion and broken bones. If youre a friend of his, persuade him back to bed.

Ive been in bed too damned long. Wont let me up, wont let me walk

Youve been to therapy, lieutenant. Dont you remember?

Scared him. He wasnt sure. He didnt argue with what they might be able to prove. Or fake records for. He was afraid he was going to pass out, and end the argument that way. I want my release. Now.

Higgins frowned, bit his lip. Finally, Ill release you to your co. Personally. If he wants you. Ms.?

Kady. Magritte Kady. Meg, to whoever. She stuck out her hand. Higgins looked confused and angry. Higgins, is it?

He ignored the hand. Do you mind explaining who the hell you are and where you came from?

Manners, Dekker said. Still with his grip on the mp, he looked the man close in the eyes and said, You want to let go? I want to let go.

Man wasnt amused. Man said, Doctor?

Let him go.

Took a bit just to get his hand unclenched. The mps uniform had a circle of sweaty wrinkles. The mp refused to straighten it. Man was cold and thin-lipped, and mad as hell. udc was full of those types. He reached for Megs hand and said, Lets go.

There are forms to fill out, Higgins said. And a physical.

Had one, he said, walkinghe hoped Meg knew where the door was: he didnt. He halfway expected the mp was going to have his way after all. He remembered he was in pajamas when he saw the door. He didnt know any way back to the barracks but the Trans. Didnt know how he was going to stay conscious through that ride. Little bit of g it pulled would wipe him out.

But Meg steered him for a bench by the door and set him down. You just stay there a minute. Im going to go back there and call your co. Isnt anybody coming near you.Is your co going to pull you out?

Yeah, yeah, I think hes already got somebody coming.

Then Ill stand here and wait. If youre sure.You going to be all right?

Yeah, he said. His teeth had started to chatter. He was barefoot. The pyjamas werent worth much. Meg took off her coat, put it around his shoulders, and made him hold on to it. She left him a moment and came back with a blanket, God knew how.

She said, Higgins is severely pissed. Hes on the phone. But the nurse is all right. Nurse asked if you wanted a chair.

Nurse was the one hed hit. More than once. He shook his head, with some remorse for thatand regret for missing his chance at Higgins. Meg tucked the blanket around him, and under his bare feet, and sat down and offered him a warmer place to lean. Theyd never been to bed together, had just been letter writers, at 830 million k remote from each other. Theyd discovered they were attracted to each other too late to do anything about it, except that goodbye kiss. And now a hello one, a hug and a place to lean on, when hed gotten to the absolute bottom of his strength. Meg never found him but what he was a mess. And here she was, hed no idea how. She hadnt come straight with him. And maybe sitting here with her like this was all another hallucination. If he was hallucinating this time he didnt want to come back again, didnt want to fight them, didnt want to get even, didnt want to prove anything to anybody. Just sit, long as he could, long as he could hold himself awake.

Meg said, Well, well, blue uniforms, this time. That us?

He focused stupidly on figures the other side of the glass. On one young, fair-haired Graff, for Gods sake. With Fleet Security.

He bit his lip til it hurt enough. He said, Dont let me fall, Meg, and stood up, letting go the blanket, as Graff came through the Perspex doors. Lt. Graff, sir.

Graff looked at him, up and down, Graff frownedyou could never tell what Graff was thinking. Could have been of skinning him alive, for all he could read.

Meg said, Theyve been drugging him to the gills, sir. He never did do well with that.

Graff said to the mps, Take him to the ship.

Barracks, Dekker said, then was sorry hed objected. Hed take anywhere but here. But he didnt know the ship. He wanted somewhere he knew. He wanted people he knew, namely Meg, and Sal, and Ben.

Just long enough for a check-up, Graff said. I want you on record, Dekker. From the outside in. You behave yourself, hear? No nonsense.

Yessir, he said. He let Security take hold of him, he sat down and they said they were going to borrow a chair; he heard Graff tell Meg Welcome in; and: Hereafter, dont start a war. Wait for the UN to declare it.

Yessir, Meg said. Which wasnt a word he ever recalled from Meg Kady. But Meg had enlisted. The fool. The absolute fool, if that was the price of Megs ticket here. He felt tears in his eyes, thinking about that.

But damned if he could figure out how shed managed it, all in all.

Time had gotten away from him again. It kept doing that. So maybe he was, the way Ben said, crazy.


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Chapter 6
 ^ 
Welcome back, they said, welcome back, Dek. Jamil and Trace, Pauli and Almarshad and Hap Vasquezthey intercepted him at the door when he was only calculating how much strength he had to get to his own quarters and fall into bed. Jamil warned the rest about grabbing hold of him, thank God, most of all thank God for Ben and Meg and Sal Aboujib showing up out of the depth of the room to rescue him from too much input too fast he was tracking on too much: he knew and didnt know in any detail what hed said to the guys or what theyd said to him, and for one dislocated moment he really thought Pete or Elly or Falcone was going to turn up in the barracks; they always had

But they werent going to do that ever again, dammit, end report, o-mega; he was here on this wave of time, and by a break of bad luck they werent, and he was going to fall on his face if the guys didnt let him get to his quarters. Hed spent hours out in a null g sickbay, been prodded and probed and sampled and vid-taped from angles and in a condition he didnt want on the evening news; and his imagination until now had only extended to lying down in quiet, not running an emotional gauntlet of friends of dead friendswho could see how absolutely hed been screwed over, dammit, when he should at least have gotten some of theirs back. He didnt know what had happened to him in hospital, not all of it; he didnt know what hed admitted to, most of all he couldnt remember what had put him there, and by that, hed evidently let the lieutenant down, too, in some major way

Come on, Meg said, and he walked across a tilting, unstable floor, around a corner, down a short hall to a familiar door and a room that had beenimages kept flashing on him out of a situation he didnt remembercold and empty the last time hed left it, clothes in the lockers nobody was going to use any more

Now it was alive with voices and faces out of a period of his life that never should have recrossed his track, except it was like a gravity well, things didnt fly straight, they kept corning around at you again and he didnt even know the center of mass. That should be a calculable thing. He should be able to solve that problem, with the data he had

Get him in bed, Meg was saying, hes severely spaced, and Ben said, Damned fool had to walk it, wheres his head anyway?

Ben never minced words. He could cope with Ben far better than he could Sal Aboujib, who, after Ben had got him onto his bunk, pinned him with hands on either side of him, looked him in the face so close he was cross-eyed and said, Oh, hes still pretty. Dek, sincerely good to see you. So good youre in one piece

Let him alone. God! Meg shoved Sal aside. Mans severely had enough for a while. Go get his supper. Do you mind?

Numb at this point. Completely numb. You hyped, and if things wouldnt calculate, what could you do but handle the things you could? He said, Not reg.

Sal said, Nyet. Lieutenant cleared it. Sandwich all right, Dek? Chips?

Yeah, I guess. Sandwich meant fish of some kind and that nauseated him. Then he thought of what he did want. What hed wanted in his lucid moments in the hospital. Hamburger and fries. And simultaneously remembered what happened to Belters who ventured the quick food in the cafeteria. You watch the hamburgers, Sal. Its real stuff

Dead animals, Ben said, and shuddered.

Fish are animals, Meg declared.

No, theyre not.

The argument went completely surreal. The noise did. He was lying here and people promising to get him a hamburger were arguing Belter sensibilities, enzymes and whether fish were intelligent. Milkshake, he said. But he was tired and he wanted to get under the sheets he was lying on, which took far too much effort. He just shut his eyes a moment and something warm settled over him. Blanket. And a weight pressed the mattress beside him and an arm arched over him.

He focused blearily on Meg. Why in hell did you come here? You got no business here

Well talk about it later.

Well talk about it while theres still a chance, before you get into the security stuff The meds would say his blood pressure was getting up again. His eyes were blurry. He made the effort to lean on one arm, the one that hadnt been recently broken, and gathered all the detail of a face hed never thought hed see again. Hed wanted her once. He didnt know if he still diddidnt want to want her. Didnt know if he could take another dead friend. Damn things a meatgrinder, Meg, the colonels an ass

Yeah, so Ben said.Are you getting out? Seems to me you got a serious excuse here. Thinking about a Medical?

His mind went blank on that. He couldnt see himself doing anything else. He couldnt see himself shoving freight around, going back to pusher work. But the future hed had before the accident was black and void in front of him, justnot do-able now. For the last year hed chased after being the first pilot to run that course. Making it. Hed believed that, even through the funerals of those who hadnt. And that wouldnt happen, couldnt happen, now, everybody was dead but him

You want to get out of the service? Meg asked him.

He kept trying to look at that dark ahead. And finally he shook his head. No, he didnt want out. He didnt know what he was going to do, but he didnt want out of the Fleetdidnt know who might go with him next run, didnt know what they could pull together into a crew that wouldnt take another one apartdidnt want that. Maybe that was why he couldnt see where he was going. Crew was gone, they might well drop him back in training, let him shape up with Meg and Ben and Sal from the beginning upgranted Tanzer didnt kill the program.

Meanwhile some other crew would make that first run; and the second; and the thirdhed take the controls after someone else had flown the ship and it was documented and tame enough for the second line to try.

And maybe that was sanity. Forget his notions: maybe it wasnt what hed trained for, wasnt what hed wanted, but it was a way back into the cockpit, forget the naive confidence hed had in his invincibility. He wasnt a kid any more. God hope he wasnt a fool any more, who had to have that number-one status or kill himself and everyone with him.

He gave up the prop of his arm, fell back again and gathered the bedspread and pillow under his head. He looked in Megs eyes and didnt see a woman who was young and mind-fried with lovejust a friend, a sane, brave friend, who was older than he was and whose reasons he didnt honestly know.

Meg, Im serious, dont want to offend you. Good to see you. Good you came. But if youve got any loophole out of enlisting, any way in hell back to the berth you had, you should go back

Five hundred-odd million k, I come for this man. What about those letters you wrote? Getting along fine, a real chance at something, the first thing in my life I know I want to do

That was bullshit. Its like anywhere else. We got a fool in charge.

Yeah, well, we dealt with fools before. Got no shortage of em in the Belt. Some have even got seniority.

They got plenty of it here.Too damn many funerals, Meg. Im sick to death of funerals

Death is, jeune rab. Better to burn than rot.

Plasma spreading against the dark. Whiteout on the cameras. He said, urgently, Meg, go back where youve got a life, for Gods sake. Youve got a berth

without shit-worth of seniority.

Well, you wont get any here. They wont count your hours, just give you a flat 200. Spend your whole life out in the Belt and thats all its worth. Theyll screw you any way they can.

Mmmnn. Yeah. Sals seriously pissed about thatbut shes computers anyway. Straight quantifiable skills stuff. I was an ec shuttle pilot, remember? Earth to orbit. LEO to Sol One. You name it, I ran it, four years riding the gravity slopes. And its all in the ecs own infallible records. Here, I got seniority.

Shit, he said, cold inside, he didnt know why, except Meg was hell to stop when she had an idea, and Tanzer was a damned fool. Itd be like the udc , to look at just that record of Megs hours and do something seriously stupid. Like put a shuttle jock on the combat line. Meg, you dont know. We got innate stupidity here, serious innate stupidity. The equipments a real stress generator, you understand me? They made the sims realtime to start, but the udc guys wont spend four, five hours in the sims, hell, no, were too short on sim-time for that, and we got guys too experienced to need that, so what do we do? We pitch the sims down to be do-able. Comfortable. Spread the time around. You read that? His head ached. His voice was going. The capacity to care was. Theyre killing us. Take guys with reflexes to do the job, and then they fuck with the sims till you got no confidence in them. Thats a killer, Meg, thats a damn killer, ships so sensitive you can screw the thing if you twitch

You fly it?

A memory chased through his nerves, oxygen high and an adrenaline rush, hyperfocused

Yeah, he said, voice gone shaky with memory. Yeah. Mostly the sims. But twice in the ship. And he knew why he wasnt going to take a Medical. Better to burn, Meg had said. And he did that. He did burn.

Door opened. Mustard or ketchup? Sals voice. Got one each way

Mustard, he said, grasping after mundane sanity. The smell ought to make him sicker than hell, the hospital food hadnt smelled of grease and hed all but heaved eating it. But maybe it was the company: maybe it was the smell that conjured the cafeteria and the sounds and shoptalk over coffee: he suddenly wanted the burger. He took a real chance with his stomach and his head and hitched his shoulders around against the wall so he could sit up to eat, and handle the milkshake. A sugar hit, carbohydrates and salt, a guaranteed messhall greaseburger with dill pickles, chili sauce, tomatoes and mustard

How can you eat that? Ben asked. God!

Meg said, Shut up, Ben, and took the ketchup burger herself.

Earth system, Meg had to be, then. Rab, rad, and, Meg had said it once, falling behind the wave of change on Earth: go out into the Belt and you stepped back a century at leastold equipment, a hodgepodge of antique fads and fashionrab-rad gone to Shepherd flash and miner Attitude. But Meg was old genuine rab, he believed it, the rab theyd gunned down at the Company doors when he was a kid. So Meg had come home to hamburgers and ideas she was so far out of the current of, he hurt for her. And he was scared for her.

Damn right she was a pilot. The Fleet was raking up all the recruits they could beg or bribe away from the Shepherds, and theyd evidently made her an offer, given her her hoursa fool friend, an almost-lover near young enough to be her son, cracked up in hospital neednt have been any part of it. Couldnt go by what Meg said. Couldnt. She had a lot of virtues, but strict accounts wasnt one of them. It was enough shed come to the hospital to get him. It was enough shed stand there and risk arrest and losing everything to get him out. Meg was like that. Might go, might stay. But if she stayed

if she stayed

He got most of the hamburger down. He got down half the shake and half the fries. He sat there in a room with Ben and Sal talking about computers and the udc , and Meg wolfing down the first hamburger she must have had in years, and looking not a bit changeda few more lines around the eyes, maybe. And when he had to put the rest of his shake aside, he shut his eyes for just a moment and sat there, and thought about Cory. He thought about Bird, and the Belt. He thought he was there for the moment, but it wasnt a serious drift, just remembering. Safe.

Want to break his damn neck, Ben thought. Skuz ate the mess and went out cold, no wonder. Poor dead cow. Fish werent intelligent. Thank you.

Sal leaned on his arm and whispered a thoroughly indecent proposal, which reminded him what he hadnt gotten in the last year, what with the course work and the computer time and alla proposal that didnt make a man think all that clearly about the value of his life and the necessity of getting out of this hellhole

Yeah, he said thickly, directing thoughts to getting his ass out of here and snagging Sal into the tiand down to Stockholm. Sal was damned good. In several senses. Yeah. Meg, hate to leave you with the skuz there,d you mind sitting on him?

Any way he can make it, Meg said smugly. Us freefallers are adaptablehows yourself, Ben?

He was out of practice. Polite society did that. He actually felt his face warm. Hell, ask Sal in a while.

Sal hooked her arm in his and said, Details later. Serious interpersonal relations.You got a notion where, mate?

Whole damn room to ourselves, he said. And elbowed the door open.

Dek said, You want to dispose that? and handed Meg the remnant of the milkshake. She went to the bath to dump it and came back to find Dek on his feet rummaging a lockerhis, she figured, and hoped he wasnt thinking of getting dressed. Her own back ached with the g-shift off the shuttleshed gotten soft, living on the Hamiltons c-forced decks. It was the little muscles that hurt, the ones you used pulling your body around in freefall, a lot of them in unusual places, and she seriously didnt want to face the guys outside

Youre not going to walk, she said; he ignored the question, lifted a stack of folders in the top of the locker and said, sounding upset, The tapes gone.

What tape?

Sim tape. I guess they had it back to library. Damn sure theyve been through here.

They?

mps. Crash investigators. Whatever.

They already had the hearing, Dek. VIPs left this morning.

He was looking white. He leaned one-handed against the locker frame and looked at nowhere. Im tracking, Meg.

Meaning quit treating him like a spacecase. Joli jeune rab, face like a painted angel and a body language that said Screw you in any sense you wanted to take it.

A lot like herself, truth was. But there had to come a moment in a lifetime when a person looked in the mirror and knew age had happened; and Dek was her mirrorthat body and that face that carried all its worry-lines in muscle, not engraved permanently beside the mouth or around the eyes. Age had sneaked up on her; and Deks mama wasnt older, shed bet on it. So might be he didnt want any forty-year-old woman putting the push on him. With his looks hed have his pick of anybody out there, and probably had had, all his lifeprobably had damned well enough of everybody who saw him wanting him, and no few laying uninvited hands on himpretty guy had that problem no less than anybody else; maybe more, because he was supposed to like it.

So back off the kid, Magritte Kady, and shut the hell uphes tired, hes probably sick to death of being hit on, probably thinking hard how to finesse a middle-aged woman out of his bed tonight; and not doing real well with the words, is he?

Dek didnt say anything. He wandered into the bath, ran water, came out again with his face and the front of his hair wet, and looked at her with eyes like a lost, battered kids.

She said, Nothing comes with the package. I came here to haul your ass out. Not laying claim to it by any right. Isnt as if I didnt get somethingI got back to inner system, didnt I? So no debts. I owed you.

Disturbed him, that. She saw the frown. He said, Hows the arm?

Half-thinking, she rotated the hand, lifted the arm. Works.

Reflexes?

She shrugged, moved the thumb that was a little stiff. Age is, jeune rab. It does hit us all.

You arent old, Meg.

Gallant jeune fils, too. She didnt let the face react. Just the gut felt pain. She told it shut up and laid out the truth. Still not saying I should have been at the controls, on my best day. You pulled our asses out of a bad one, Dek, you got what I never had: if you want me on your team, all right, Ill back you; or if you want me or Sal off it, you say that too, right now, plain as plain, because I owe it to Sal. Im forty and counting, arm isnt what it used to be and it wont be again. Sals young but shes got experience to collect. Thats what you get. Cant lie to you. No good doing that

He came closer. Looking into his face was a send-off; looking into his eyes was the deep dive, gravity well, painful as slow compression. His face went out of focus as he leaned and kissed her on the cheekdeeper hurt, that. But the jeune fils didnt, couldnt, know

Call it even, he said, then, Paid is paid,but his hands traveled down and behind her. Came a light kiss on the mouth that shook a forty-year-olds good sense. Another one that

God.

Dont do that, she said shakily, when she had a breath, and meant to crack some half-witted joke about their relative ages, but he said, Bed, Meg, and pulled her down on the bunk with him.

Not real copacetic, no, the jeune fils had far more ideas than substance left, but clothes and covers went one way and the other, boots thumped out from under the sheets, and a bunk that wasnt designed for two meant real caution about putting an elbow into his sore spots. She did. But he said never mind, hell with the ribs, he didnt care, if he was hallucinating he didnt want to wake up, she could fly him to hell and gone, hed take the trip

Didnt care. That was the operative word, that was the danger word she was hearing from himbut she didnt know what to say on the instant but to punch him on the leg and say, Im damn well here, jeune rab. Shut up.

Struck him funny, somehow. Didnt recall as shed ever seen him laugh like that, and there wasnt much healthy about it; but he sort of snuggled down then, hugging her close, said, Anything you want, Meg, whatever you like, and started drifting out, little at a time.

Murmured, finally, Cory, But she didnt take offense. Mand busted his ass trying to save Cory Salazar, done everything for his partner a man could do and then some, and what would you want in a manthat hed forget, now, and switch Cory off like a light?

Not any partner shed ever give a damn for.

So she ruffled his hair, said, Hush, its Meg, and he said, with his eyes shut, Meg, for Gods sake get out, go back, dont get mixed up in this, dammit, you had a berth

Yeah. They were going to make me senior captain. You got my knee pinned, you want to move over, Dek?

Bed with Aboujib was a long, long experience. You didnt get away easytech-nique, Sal called it; and he didnt knowhe was here, where the competition back at ti couldnt eavesdrop; and Sal wasnt a critic, Sal just took what wasSal was all over you and kink as hell, maybe. You couldnt be ice with Sal, maybe that was why he was thinking suddenly, amid his attentions to Sal, that he truly didnt want Stockholm to see this side of Ben Pollardthat wasnt real sincerely in his right mind, feeling as he did for the moment that hed actually missed R2s sleaze and neon, that hed missed Mike Arezzos synth-egg breakfasts and the noise of helldeck

Stockholm was a vr image, Stockholm was special effects, there wasnt an Earth and you couldnt get to it, the Company only made it up to explain the universegot its Earth-luxuries out of fancy tanks, it was all synth for all he knew; what the hell difference whether it was a cow or a tank culture, he wasnt going to eat what had blood running through ithell, Earth was full of eetees no less than Pell, and what was Ben Pollard doing trying to fit in with people who ate hamburgers and ran a department that bought a damned eidat?

Ben Pollard was trying to stay alive and stay out of the war, that was what hed been doing. Ben Pollard was back on helldeck, the bubble had burst, and what turned up but Sal Aboujib, the Fleets own damnable doing, screw the bastard who was responsible for this

Hell, when it came down to it, Dekker was responsible for it, it didnt matter the udc and the Fleet had gotten their shot in, Dekker could reach out from the hereafter and screw his life up with one little touch, the way hed screwed Cory Salazarsway hed screwed the program up

Off chance that part wasnt his fault, but you didnt protect yourself by figuring a mess of this magnitude that Dekker just happened to be in the middle ofdidnt have Dekkers fingerprints all over it. Wasnt that the guy necessarily did anything, he didnt have to do it, he just was. Like gravity and infall, things went wrong in his vicinity

Sal cut off his air, and lights went off a while. When he came down he was halfway tranquil, catching his breath, and saidit still bothered him: You know, you couldve written once.

Sal didnt answer that one right off. She came over on top of him and made a cage out of her elbows beside his head. Her braids hit him in the face. Her lips brushed his nose.

Thats no answer.

Didnt figure you wanted one, Sal said.

Fair answer, one he hadnt thought of. Fact was, when he was trying to settle in with inner-system pets and sorting the threats from the bottom-enders he hadnt had but a few twinges of regret for helldecktried to clean the Belt out of his language, tried not to dream about it, just wanted to see those clean green numbers in his head, different life, Aboujib. Different aims

So he didnt answer that. He just said, Heres seriously screwed. Dekkers involved. Thought you had better sense. Thought Meg had. I can understand her, maybe, got to be hell getting seniority out there, but youre Shepherd, you got the connections, you didnt have to dump and come

Sal slid down, slid over, rolled onto one elbow, all shadow, braid-clips a-wink in the dim light. Eyes eclipsed and looked at him again.

Werent treating her right, Ben. She took it. But, tell the truth, she wasnt seriously happy on the Hamilton.

Personalities?

Sal traced something with a long fingernail on the sheet between them. Second eclipse. And glance up. Could say. Guys put the push on her. Guys said Shift of the eyes toward the door and a lowered voice. Said it was damned good shed got shot, it put Dek at the controls

Shit.

Sal shrugged. Probably true. She says it is. But thats the Attitude, you understand? She took the jokes. She took the shit. But they said shed got an affinity for gravity wells, didnt want her flying in Jupiters pullbig joke, right?

Severely big joke. The idea of infalling a gravity well made him nervous as hell. Going down to Stockholm, if he got there, as happened, he intended to drink a lot of cocktails before the divebecause he was Shepherda Shepherd orphan, as happened, thank God hed been on R2 when the ship went. But sometimes, on his worst nights, he dreamed of metal groaning, bolts fracturing, the sounds a ship would make when compression beganpop, and bang and metal shrieking

Yeah, Shepherds made jokes. Shepherds defended the perks and prerogatives they got from the Company for flying where others couldnt. And Meg was insystemer, inner systemer, even blue-sky; and there on Sals ticket

So Dekker got the credit with the Shepherds, for one hell of a flight; and Meg, whod nearly got her arm blown off for the causegot the shit: Dekker hadnt asked for a post with the Shepherds, that was the Attitudinal difference

She wanted to come, Sal said. And gave a long breath. Couldnt let her go alone.

To find Dekker? She didnt effin know him. She didnt

Pi-lut, he thought then. Meg was a pilot same as Dekker, didnt care about anything but to fly. And the Shepherds didnt want her at controls?

Double shit. But things the other side of the wall still didnt make sense in that light.

So shes in bed with the guy?

A movement of sheet, shrug of Sals shoulders. Silence a moment. Then: Hormones.

What kind? Thats the question.

Like hes the best, you know what I mean? Beating himdI dunno, itd prove a lot of things.

God. He fell onto his back to think about that a tick.

I mean, Sal said, if even the Fleet had offered her back then what theyd offered Dekkerif theyd just offered, shed have been gone. But she was lying in pieces and patches, as wascouldnt blame them, really, but it severely did hurt

Up on his elbow again. He was hearing craziness he might have to fly with. Shes not any damn twenty-year-old, Sal, if you want to talk hormones, here, you got to have a whole different wiring. Reactions arent there. Theyre not going to be there for any sane human, Sal, the guys flat crazy, it seems to be a pre-rec on this ship

Silence a moment. Sal was all shadow and maybe anger, you couldnt know when you were talking to a cutout in the dark. Finally Sal said, with a definite edge to her voice, Shes not any twenty-year-old, but she was damned good, Ben, you werent out there with us, you didnt see how shed finesse a rockand we got shit, Ben, the Company gave us shit assignments, because we were worse than freerunners, we were freerunner lease crew, and they were trying to run us broke, to crack the ship-owners, that was what they were up to. We never got one good draw from that random assignment procedureMeg had a record on Sol, Meg was on the Companys hit list because Meg was rab, Meg didnt dress by the codes, Meg didnt think by the codes, Meg wouldnt kiss ass and they screwed her, Ben, same as b.M. screwed her, same as the Hamilton screwed herSo here the damn Fleet comes in and says, By the way, will you come in and haul Dek out of his mess?Didnt even say, You want to fly for us? Said, You want to come haul this chelovek out of his funk and well cover your record? Thats all, thats all they promised, Ben. And she got this lookshit, what was I going to do? Shed stuck by me. Maybe its time somebody went with her.

Hed never heard Sal talk that waySal with an attack of Obligations. But, shit-all,

That thought led down a track he didnt want to take, something about old times, about what theyd had on helldeck, confidence that came of knowing the guy you were sharing a ship with wasnt out to screw youwhole damn universe might be out to do that, but your partner wouldnt, your partner had to have the same interests you did, and you just didnt cheat on him.

You just didnt cheat on him

He rolled out of bed, buck naked and cold in the draft from the vents, he walked over to the other bunk and leaned his arm against it, because if he stayed in that bed he was going to start thinking about Morrie, and he didnt like to do that, not in the middle of the dark.

So Sal was being a fool. So Meg thought she could get the years shed lost back again and the system wouldnt screw them all.

Rustle from behind him. Movement. Arms came around him, and the chill myriad clips of Sals braids rattled against his back.

Cold out here, Ben.

I want out of here, dammit, Im not aptituded for combat. I got a place in Stockholm

Sal said, holding him tight, Whats Stockholm?


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Chapter 7
 ^ 
Maindawn and in the office early, trying, before the mainday rush hit, to make sense of the reports from the designers and the sims check. Graff took a slow sip of vending machine coffee, keyed the next page on the desktop reader. The report writer liked passives: will be effectuated; will be seen to have incremented; and especially convolutions: may have been cost-effective in the interim while result-negative in the longrange forecast

Graff keyed the dictionary for forecast. It said something about 1) terrestrial weather patterns and, 2) prediction. The latter, he decided, but keyed it up; and found something, as hed suspected, different than his own definition of prediction. These were the people who designed the computers and the software that ran the sims, for Gods sake, and they were giving him messages about Old Earth weather patterns and fortune-telling?

He tried to read these reports out of Tanzers staff. He felt responsible in the captains absence. He worried about missing something. He worried about not understanding Tanzer face to face, and these were the only lessons in blue-sky usage on his regular reading list.

Effectuated, he could guess from particles. And he didnt have that small a vocabulary. He didnt use that many semicolons in his reports; he wondered was his style out of fashion; and he wished not for the first time that hed had at least one of the seminal languagesgiven the proliferation of derived meanings, that was what Saito called the problem words, cognates; and metaphor. All of which meant a connection between forecast, planetary weather, and the Lendler Corp techs who, between working on the sims and writing reports, danced a careful and convolute set of protocols between his office and Tanzerseffectuate, hell. Obfuscate anddelegate and reiterate, but nothing effectual was going to happen with that investigation except Lendler Corp gathering evidence to protect itself against lawsuits from the next of kin.

Save them the trouble. Stick to Belters. Belters didnt sue Corporations, Belters didnt have the money or the connections to sue Corporations.

But come into their territory

Lendler didnt want to do that. Didnt want to interview the Belters. Even when he had it set up.

The phone beeped. He hoped it was Saito coming on-line: he could use a linguist about nowand he could wish Legal Affairs hadnt left their office to a junior: the Fleet needed to enlist a motherworld lawyer, was what they needed, maybe two and three of them, since they never seemed unanimoushed had the udc counsel on the line last night, talking about culpabilities and wanting releases from the next-ofs

Lt. Graff? Young male voice. Familiar male voice. Col. Tanzer on the line.

Hed never been in the habit of swearing. But association with the Belters did suggest words. He kept it to: Put him on, Trev.

Pop. Lt. Graff?

Colonel?

Im looking at the file on Paul Dekker. Just wondered if you had any last-minute additions, before we write our finish on this accident business.

Id appreciate that, colonel, as soon as we finish our own investigation.

Dekkers been released from hospital, I understand, on your orders.

Possibility of recorders. Distinct possibility. Released to Fleet medical care. His blood showed high levels of tranquilizer and pain medication. My medical staff says it was excessive. Far excessive. The word malpractice figured in the report.

A moment of silence. Blood samples taken after he was in your doctors care, lieutenant. Ill inquire, but youll excuse me if I choose to believe our own personnel. File a separate report if you like. Call the Surgeon General. Its completely of a pattern with the rest of your actions. But you may find some of those chickens coming home to roost very shortly.

Another one for Saito. But the gist of it got through, quite clearly.

Tanzer said: The phone isnt the place for this discussion. Ill see you in my office in ten minutes. Or Ill file this report as is, without your inspection, and add your objection in my own words.

Moment of silence from his side. A moment of temptation to damn Tanzer for a bastard, hang up, and call the captain on uncoded com. He might be a fool not to have done that: Tanzer made little moves, niggling away at issue after issue, day after day; damn the man, he could be recording the conversation right now. But caution won. Follow the forms. Im on my way, he said.

The sojers had this perverse habit called reveille, which meant after the com scared hell out of you and you hauled yourself bleary-eyed awake, you ran for the breakfast line before the eggs disappearedMeg had gotten into that routine on the ship coming here, got a few days spoiled on the shuttle, and here she and Sal were againstanding in line, the only females in sight, with two guys who drew their own kind of attention.

Orientation, the lieutenant had told her, outside hospital. Keep him busy. Push him, but not too hard. Dont let him off by himself.

Which meant they were a kind of bodyguard, she supposed. Against what, she wasnt sureagainst Deks own state of mind, high on the list: too much death, Sal put it, for anybody to tolerate. Everybody hed gotten really close to, except Ben and her, had died; hed watched it happen every damned time; and last night he was telling her to try to de-enlist, get out of his life?

Only convinced her how seriously she meant to follow the lieutenants orders and keep a tag on him.

So Dek was supposed to show them around, get them acquainted with the classrooms and the vr labs and the library, get their own cards picked up. Lab schedule, soon as they could get settled, hell and away different than shed learned flying, but that was the way they did it in the Fleet: Dek said you took a pill and they hooked you up to a tape and they fed the basics of the boards into you by vr display like programming some damned machine

Confuses you at first, Dekker was telling them, in the breakfast line, the other side of Ben. Reactions cross what you know, you face it the next day and you dont remember learning something newyour hands know. They use it just to teach you the boards. The brain takes a while to get used to ita while to know it knows. Handful of people cant take the pills. But its rare.

She listened. She tried to imagine it.

Theyre experimenting with that stuff over at ti, Ben said. Hell if theyre going to mess with my head. Im a Priority 10. Programmer. Security clearance. Damn chaff, thats whats going on, its that screwed-up eidat theyre usingdrop me in here and my level isnt in the b Dock system, oh, no, all it knows is pi-luts and dock monkeys, so I got to be one or the other, right? Right. Dollop of synth eggs onto Bens plate. So it lets some damn keypusher screw with my assignment. Does somebody over at Sol wonder where I am? Not yet. Personnel isnt supposed to think, oh, no, they trust the eidat. I got a post waiting for me, God hope its still waiting.What the hell is that stuff?

Grits, Dek said.

Was it alive?

It wasnt alive. Dek slid his tray to the end of the line and drew his coffee.

You want me to carry that? Meg asked.

Im fine. Dek said, and stuck his card in the slot. Thats present and accounted for. Laser scans the bottom of the containers, figures your calories and your allotmentsdieticians worse thanhell. Reader read-line was blinking.

You have a message, the checkout robot said, as if Dek couldnt read.

 Scuse. Dek carried his tray over to a corner table, quiet spot, Meg was glad to note, following him, while Ben waited for Sal to check througha skosh too many Shepherd eyes in this place for her personal comfort, all picking up every move they made. Hi, Dek, theyd say soberly, sounding friendly enough. Giving her and Sal the eye, that was a naturalwomen being severely scarce here; and sort of glossing Ben.

But the udc boys looked at Ben and looked at them and heads sort of leaned together at tables, she could see it going on all over that other corner of the hall, thick with udc uniforms.

Dek set his tray down. Ill check that message blinker. Probably your stuff. Hope its your stuff.

As Sal and Ben showed up with their trays and set them down.

Whats he doing? Ben asked with a glance over his shoulder. You dont ask what a message is before breakfast, you never ask what a message is before breakfast

Thinks it could be our accesses. Meg set her tray down and cast a glance at Dek over by the phone, a skosh anxious, she couldnt even tell why, except Dek had had this edge in his voice: he was On about something, she read it in his stance and his moves, and she hadnt been able to read all the codes that had popped up. She said, still on her feet, Ben? You capish the code on that blinker?

Accesses stuff, Ben said, sitting down.

Uh-oh, Sal said.

Understatement. Serious understatement. Dek hit the phone with his open hand. Scuze, Meg said, and went that direction.

Dek snatched out his card, and ricocheted into her path. What is? she asked, catching at his arm. Dek?

They clipped me, Tanzers fuckin clipped me, the son of a bitch. Dek shoved her and she didnt know whether to hang on or nother hand stung as he blazed past her. But that didnt matter. Dek going for the door like a crazy manthat seriously mattered. Dek knocking into guys inbound

Mitch, for Gods sake

Dek got past. Hot on his track she hit the same obstacle, who didnt give way a second time. Neither did the other guys. Kady, Mitch said, not friendly. I heard theyd gotten desperate.

I got a seriously upset partnerout of my way, dammit!

So whats with Dekker?

Something about getting clipped.

Shit! Mitch said, and: Pauli, to the big guy behind him, Shepherd from the hall yesterday. She remembered. Haul his ass back here. Fast.

Whats going on? Sal asked as she and Ben showed up with a handful of other curious.

Dekkers been clipped, Mitch said. Just calm down, were going to see what the lieutenant says about this.

Hell if she understood clipped, she didnt know Pauli from trouble, she knew Mitch too damn well, but Mitchs outrage at least sounded to be on Deks side and stopping Dek seemed to be a priority on their side too. Pauli-whoever took out in the direction Dek had gone, and she went with, at a fast walk.

First corner showed an empty hall; but Pauli broke into a jog for a side corridor as if he knew where he was going, she caught up, and spotted Dek, all right, traveling at a fair clip himself.

Dek! she called out; and he stopped, took a damn-you stance and stared at them cold as cold.

All right. That was the surly young sumbitch she knew. She panted, You got friends, chelovek, capish? Slow down. Deal with people.

Dek looked half poised to walk off. Pauli said, Is it true? They pulled you?

Yeah. Deks mouth didnt look to be working real well, he clearly didnt want to talk; but about that time Ben and Sal showed up with some of the other Shepherds from the messhall, Ben with:

Whats going on?Dekker, are you being a spook?

Ben, Meg exclaimed. Sal said the same. But Dek made a disgusted wave of his hand and managed to unlock his jaw.

Nothings wrong, nothings the hell wrong. Sorry I got you here. Sorry I got you into this.

A sane woman had to get things off personals. Fast. Ben, Sal, this is Pauli, friend of Mitchs; Pauli: Ben Pollard, Sal Aboujib. Say how-do, and somebody answer a straight question, f Gods sake. Whats going on here?

The damn udc , Dek said, thats whats going on. Tanzers just tossed me out of the program.

He cant do that, Pauli said. Screw him. He cant do that.

Somebody else said, No way, Dek. And another one: Mitch is on his way to talk to the lieutenant right now. No way thats going to stick.

Dek wasnt highly verbal. He was white, and sweating. Sal said, quietly, with her arm in Deks: You want to go back to the room, Dek?

Ben said: Screw it, hes got a breakfast sitting back there, we all got breakfast back there, if nobodys grabbed it.

Leave it to Ben. Sal had a crazy man halfway turned around and stopped from strangling the colonel and Ben wanted his effin breakfast. Dek was looking at Ben like he was some eetee dropped by for directions.

You mind? Ben asked him impatiently.

Yeah. All right, Dek muttered. And went with him.

God, both of them were spooks.

Im looking at Dekkers record, Tanzer said, tapping a card on his desk, right here: the medical report and his disciplinary recordincluding his violent behavior here in hospital, his defiance of regulations in the sims

His behavior, colonel, was thoroughly reasonable, considering the level of drugs in his system. Drugs with possible negative psychological impact considering his historywhich is in that file. That from my medical experts. He has grounds for malpractice.

This is the accident report. Tanzer shoved a paper form across the desk at him. Sign it or dont, as you please. Ill spare you the detail. Im not calling the hospital records into question, Im not charging him with flagrant violations of security with that tape, Im not charging him for disregard of safety regulations. I am concluding there was no other person involved in the sims accident but Ens. Dekker.

He kept every vestige of emotion from his face. How are you proposing he got into that pod?

Im supposing he got in there the ordinary way, lieutenant, the same as any fool can climb in there. He just happened to be on trank. These are the records of his admissionhe was flying before he got in there.

Was put in there.

He was in illegal possession of a tape that should have been back in library

He had license to possess that tape, colonel. Hed been in hospital, hed just been released, in condition your medics knew when they let him out with a prescription drug in his system

Whatever drugs were in his system, he put there, before he decided to go on a sim ride.

Pardon me if I dont rely on those doctors word, colonel, or their records.

Rely on whatever you like. Ill tell you one thing: Dekkers barred from the sims.

Hes going in there on my orders, colonel.

Check your rules, lieutenant. The sim facility and its accesses are under udc direction.

You restrict one of my people from the sims, colonel, and the case is going clear to the Defense Department.

Then you better start the papers moving, lieutenant, because hes barred. And if you give a damn for your program you wont filethats my unsolicited advice, because you dont want him in public. Take my word for it you dont want him in public. But until I get cooperation out of your office, you dont get cooperation out of mine.

Do I understand this as blackmail? Is that what you want? My signature, and Dekkers back in?

I wouldnt put it that way. But lets say it might signal a salutary change of attitude.

No deal. No deal, colonel. And you can stand by for FleetCom to be in use in fifteen minutes.

Good. About time you woke up your upper echelons. Tell them theyve got a problem with Dekker. A serious problem.

Trays were still sitting. They came into the messhall and guys stopped and stared in that distant way people had when they were trying to spy on somebody elses trouble. Talk stopped, mostly, and started again, and Dek didnt look at anybody, didnt talk to anybody, just sat down at his place at table and put the straw in his orange juice.

Ben gave her a tight-jawed look. Table was still all theirs. Pauli and the guys had gone off toward the breakfast line, but they hadnt made it: theyd gotten snagged, talking to guys over by the wall, all Shepherd. There were udc guys on the fringestables were either udc or they were Shepherd, Meg marked that suddenly: there wasnt another mixed table in the whole damned hall.

She didnt like the quiet. Didnt like the feeling around them. Dek was having his eggs. Ben was having toast. Sal gave her a look that said she was right, everybody else was crazy but them.

Young woman, blond hair in a shave-strip, came up, set her tray down, said, You mind, Dek?

Dek shrugged. That one sat down. Trace, the interloper said, looking her way, and offered her hand across the tray as a dark-skinned Shepherd kid took the seat next to Sal: Almarshad. Friends of friends.

Pauli sat down, him with no tray, and said, Its us Tanzers after.Pollard, you mind to answer whose side youre on? Hell of a question, Meg thought. She watched Ben frown and think, then say, with a cold sweet smile on his face: Hell, Im not in Tanzers command. Im Security-cleared. Im Computer Technical, out of ti. Im due somewhere else, and if I get there, frying Tanzers assd be ever so little effort. So why doesnt somebody get me out of here?

Hear you were a good numbers man, Pauli said. The frown came back. Damned good, Ben said. Ben wasnt lying. But Im not flying with him. Im not flying with you guys. Im not friggin going near combat

Small chance youll have in my company, Dek said under his breath. If they get this mess cleared, itll just be one more thing they find. Dammit, Pete and Ellywhat in hell is it with me that

Paulis hand came down on Deks wrist and shut him up. Thank God, Meg thought. She didnt know the danger spots here, but her personal radar was getting back severe oncomings.

Hadnt even gotten back to the office before he had a hail from behind and a Lieutenant, weve got to talk to you

No doubt what it was before Mitch and Benavides overtook him. Graff said, Dekkers banned from the sims, is that what this is about?

Tanzers doing? Mitch askedand didnt ask was it his.

Col. Tanzer, he reminded them. In the office, Mitch. Lets keep it out of the corridors

Its in the corridors, sir, its all over the messhall. The UdamnDC doesnt care where it drops its

Mitch. In the office.

Yessir, Mitch said meekly; and the delegation trailed him down the corridor and around the corner to his own door. He could hear the phone beeping before he even got the door open. He got to his desk, picked up the handset.

Graff here.

Saitos voice. J-G, we have a problem. Paul Dekkers been restricted.

Im aware, I assure you. Word to the captain. FleetCom. Stat. Code but dont scramble. Tell the captain wed urgently like to hear from him.

Aye.

He hung up. He looked at Mitch. Where is Dekker right now?

Messhall, Mitch said. Granted Pauli and Kady could catch him.

Catch him.

He wasnt damned happy, and he was headed spinward.

You catch him. You sit on him if youve got any concern about this program.

Quiet from the other side. Then: We enlisted. We signed your contract. Weve got plenty of concern about this program, lieutenant, were damned worried about this program,were damned worried about a lot of things.

First time Ive asked this, Mitchell. Follow orders. Blind. Just do it.

Mitch looked at him a long time. So did the others. Finally Mitch said,

Well follow orders.But what the hell are they doing, lieutenant? D you hear from the captain? Do we know anything? Whats happening at Sol?

You want it flat on the tableI dont know what the situation is, I dont know whether the captains tied up in the hearings or what. Im asking you, I need you to go back to your labs, follow your orders, show up for simsget everybody back to routine. Like nothings going on. Like nothings ever gone on.

Long silence then. Long silence. And finally Mitch broke contact.

Yeah, Mitch said. You got it. You got it. But Deks damned upset.

Tell Dekker my doors open, I know what happened and Im on it. May take a bit. But hes going back in there.

Opened his mouth on that one. If you made a promise like that to these men, youd better plan to keep it.

Like dropping into system, he thought; sometimes you had to call one fast. He thought it over two and three times, the way you didnt have time to reflect on a high-v decisionbut the fallout from this one was scattered all through the future, and he didnt know whether he was right to promise a showdownfor one man.

Damned if not, he decided. You could count casualties by the shiploadin an engagement. But if it was your own service taking aimdamned right one man mattered.

Whole roomful of tranked-out fools sitting at consoles, making unison reaches after switches, unison keystrokes, as far as Ben could tell. Damn spacecases, he said, with a severe case of the willies. Deepteach, they called it, vr with drugs and specific behaviors involved; and hearing about it wasnt seeing thirty, forty people all sitting there with patches on their arms and faces and elsewhere and in private places, for all he knew: forty grown people making identical rapid moves like the parts of some factory machine. Talk about Unionside clones

Just basic stuff, Dekker said. They were in the observation room, looking out through Spex that reflected their disturbed facesdisturbed, in his case, and Megs and Sals. Dekker, professional space-out, tried to tell them it was just norm.

Spooky, was Sals word too. Seriously spooky.

Ben asked uneasily, They do computer work that way?

Basic functions, Dekker said. Basic stuff. For all I know, they do: armscomp, longscanmotor skills, they call it. They teach the boards that way. Some of the sims are like that, when theres one right answer to a problem. Anything you can set up like thatthey can cut a tape. Its real while youre seeing it. Damned real. But you move right. You do it over and over til you always jump right.

Wasnt the answer he wanted to hear. He said, Im not taking any damn pill. Im already right. Righter than any guy this halfass staff has got, Ill tell you. You let them muck with your head?

Just for the boards, Dekker said, and cut the lights as they left. Just to set the reactions. Direct Neural Input, they call it. You do the polish in sims, and you do that awakeat least youre supposed to

Two years hed known the guy and he realized hed never actually heard Dekkers sense of humor. He decided that was a joke. A damned bad one.

Meg asked, So what if it sets a bias thats not right, once upon some time?

You arent the only one to worry about that. Yeah. Its a question.

So what are they doing? Set us up to jump on the average were right?

Thats part of what they call documentationmeaning theres nobody whos flown the ship.

Nobody? Sal asked; and Ben nearly managed unison.

Docking trials, yeah. They got that part. Straight runs. Milk and cookies. Rotate and reorient. Do it in your sleep. But not with armscomp working. You got enough problem with system junk.

Like a damn beam-push through the Belt.

You got it. At that v its a lot like that. Only where were goingthere arent any two-hundred-year-old system charts. You get stuff off the system buoy when you drop in to a known system, where theres regular traffic, but out at the jump points, theres chaff you just dont knows there. And maybe stuff somebody meant to dumpship-killers, scan-invisible stuff, you dont know.

Shit. Cold chill went down Bens back. These guys ever made a run with Mama shoving you?

A lot of these guys have done itif you mean the combat jocks. Yeah. Thats what its like. And we just run ahead and blow the sumbitches they dump out of the carriers path.

Youre kidding.

Thats what she does.

Thats the damn stupidest thing I ever heard!

Thats why they like us Belter types. Shipkillers and rocksno difference. Same gut feeling for how rocks movesame thing that makes a good numbers man or keeps a Shepherd out of the Well, thats what they want.

Hell if, Dekker, hell if! Not this Belt miner!

You a good miner? Dekker had the nerve to ask.

A live one! On account of I never let MamBitch boost us like a missileexcept once. In which you figured, you son of a

Meg said, Hell, Ben, they give you guns

Yeah, and it wont workthats what theyre doing in there, theyre brainwashing those poor sods, they brainwashed him, for Gods sake, blow rocks out of the way, hell! They got that on those tapes?

Not yet, Dekker said, just as quiet and sober as if he was sane. But theyd like to. Get the reactions right on one run, so they can bottle it and feed it into the techsword is, thats what they want to do, ultimately. Get one crew that can do it. And theyll teach the others. Hundreds of others.

God, Sal said, and hooked a thumb back at the human factory. Like that?

Dekker shrugged. Thats what they think.

Thats what they think, Ben muttered. The human race was shooting at each other. Dekker said Union was building riderships, too

I thought the other side was where they wired you to a machine and taught you to like getting blown to hell. Not here. Not on this side, no way, Dek-boy. What the hell are we fighting for? Thats Union stuff in there!

They developed it, what I hear.

God.

 Not yet,  Meg quipped.

Damn funny, Meg.

Ben looked at Dekker, looked at Meg and at Sal, with this sudden sinking feelingthis moment of dislocation, that said he was surrounded by crazies, including the woman he went to bed with; including every hotshot Shepherd tight-ass in this whole establishment, and the co, and the lieutenant.

Whats it do to your reflexes? Meg said.

Dekker said, Screws em to hell. Scares shit out of you. Like I said at breakfast. Hands move, you dont know why, you threw a switch, you dont know why. Moves are right. But you got to convince yourself they are. You cant doubt.

Any chance it came around on this Wilhelmsen?

Dekker didnt answer that for a second or so. Ben wasnt sure about keeping his breakfast. Yeah, Dekker said. But thats the one thing you never better think. You never think about it. Not in the sims. Especially in the real thing

Dekkers voice wandered off. He stood there with his hand on a door switch and looked off somewhere, just stood there a breath or twothen drew a larger breath and said,

Worst enemy youve gotasking whether your moves are right. You just cant doubt

Yeah, Ben said, with the sudden intense feeling they had to get him out of this hallway before a guard saw him or something. Yeah, right. Why dont we go tour somewhere else? Like what is there to do on this station?

Dekker looked at him like hed never thought of such a thing. Dont know that there is. This isnt One.

What Ive seen, it isnt even R2. What do you do for life in this can? Play the vending machines?

Not much time for social life, Dekker said faintly. Which reminded him there hadnt been outstanding much in ti, either. Even attached to Sol One, where there was plenty.

Not much where weve been, Meg said. Either.

They walked down the hall in this place full of labs where human beings learned to twitch like rats, to guide ships that moved too fast to think about, and you couldnt help thinking that helldeck on R2, for all R2s faults, had been the good old days

So what do you want to do, Dek-boy? I mean, granted we all get our wants,whats yours?

Scariest question hed ever asked Dekker. And Dekker took a while thinking about it, he guessed, Meg sort of leaning up against Dekker, one visible hand on his armwhere the other one was might have something to do with his concentration

But Dekker said, real quiet, I want to be the one cuts that tape. I want to be the one that does it, Ben.

He wished he hadnt asked. Sincerely wished he hadnt asked. Sincerely wished Meg would put her hand somewhere to disrupt the boys concentration and shake him out of his spook notions.

There a chance? Meg asked, quiet too; and he thought, God, its in the water, they got to put it in the water

Dekker didnt answer that one right off. If they let me back in the sims, there is And a few beats later. But Im not doing it with you, Meg. I cant do it with you.

Silence from Meg. Then: Yeah.

I dont mean that. Dekker stopped cold, took Meg by the shoulders and made her look at him. I mean I dont want to. I cant work with you

Meg didnt look real happy. Meg was about as white and as tight-lipped as hed ever seen her. Meg shoved his hands off. You got a problem, mister? You got a problem with me not being good enough, thats one thing, you got a problem about setting me on any damn shelf to look atthats another. You say Im shit at the boards, thats all right, thats your damned opinion, lets see how the Aptitudes come out. Ill find a team and Ill fly with somebody, well sleep together sometimes, fine. Or Ill wash out of here. But you dont set me on any damn shelf!

After which Meg walked off alone down the hall, sound of boots on the decking, head down. Not happy. Hell, Ben thought, with a view of Dekkers back, Dekker just standing there. Sal was with himhe wondered that Sal didnt go with Meg; he was still wondering when Dekker lit out after Meg, walking fast and wobbling a little.

You make sense out of either one of em? he asked Sal.

Yeah, Sal said. Both.

Surprised him. Most things came down to Belter and Inner-systemer. So maybe this was something he just wasnt tracking. He asked, for his own self-preservation: Yeah? I know why hes following. I dont know why shes pissed.

Sal said, Told you last night.

He didnt say she couldnt fly. He said

He said not with him. Not on his ship. Shell beat his ass. Thats what hes asking for.

Talking was going on down the hall, near the exit. Looked hot and heavy.

Sal said, Shell pass those Aptitudes. You never seen Meg mad.

He thought he had. Maybe not, on the other hand. Meg was still lighting into Dekkerboy was a day out of hospital, shaky on his feet, and he didnt look as if he was holding his own down there.

Then Dekker mustve said something, because Meg eased off a little.

Probably it was Yes. Probably. Meg was still standing there. Meg and Dekker walked off together toward the security door, so he figured theyd better catch up.

The other side of the door, Meg said, We got it worked out.

Ben said, Not fair, mans not up to this. Dekker looked as if he wanted holding on his feet, as was. But Dekker said,

Going to try for that tape, Ben. You want to test in?

He threw a shocked look back at the doors, where roomfuls of walking dead were flying nonexistent ships. To that? No way in hell. Non-com-ba-tant, do you read? No way the udc is risking my talent in a damn missile. Ill test for data entry before I do that

Whats Stockholm got? Sal asked. They say Pells got a helldeck puts Sol to shame. Got eetees and everything.

Yeah? He was unmoved. Ive seen pictures. Cant be that good in bed.

Got real biostuffs, just like Earth. Theres Pell, theres Mariner Station

Yeah, theres Cyteen going to blow us to hell or turn us into robots. Dont need to go to Cyteenour own service is trying to do it to us

Seriously gave him the willies, that did. Get into his mind and teach him which keys to push, would it?

A programmer didnt need any damned help like that.

No answer, no answer, and no answer. Graff was beyond worrying. He was getting damned mad. And there was no place to trust but the carriers bridge, with the security systems engagedbut workmen had been everywhere, the udc had very adept personnel as capable of screwing up a system as their own techs were of unscrewing itand it was always a question, even here, who was one up on whom. I know the captain knows about Dekker, he said to Saito and Demas and Thieuage-marked faces all; and the only reassurance he had. Pollard, Aboujib, Kady all shipped in hereyoud think if he is moving them, theyd be couriering something, a message, two words from the captain

Possibly, Saito said, over the rim of her coffee cup, he feared some shift of loyalty. Dekker is the keypoint. None of them have met in over a year. Friends and lovers fall out. And Pollard is udc .

They came. Dekkers leavetaking with Kady waspassionate to say the least. Pollard joined him here. Protocol says none of this is significant?

Theyre not merchanter. Thats not whats forming here.

Puzzles, at the depth of things. Silence from the captain, when a word would have come profoundly welcome. He looked at Demas, he looked at Armsmaster Thieu, he looked at Saito. Com One. If Victoria spoke officially, it was Saitos voice. If the Fleet spoke to Union or to blue-skyers, it was Saito, who made a study of words, and customs, and foreign exactitudesand psychologies and expectations.

What is forming?

Saito shrugged. Thats the question, isnt it? I only point outyou cant take our social structure as the end point of their evolution. Blue-skyers and Belters aliketheir loyalties are immensely complex. Ship and Family dont occur here. Only the basis for them. Difficult to say what theyd become.

Prehistory, Demas murmured.

Prejudice? Saito asked softly.

Not prejudice: just theres no bridge between the cultures. The change was total. Their institutions are seminal to ours. But they dont need kinships, they dont need to function in that context. Their ancestors did. Weve pulled our resource out of the cultural matrix

Matrices. Wallingsfordian matrices.

God, they were off on one of their arguments, splitting theoretical hairs. Demas was a hobbyist, and the carriers bulletin board had a growing collection of Demas and Saitos observations on insystem cultures. He hadnt come shipside for Wallingsfordians versus Kilmer or Emory.

Saito. Is the captain setting up something you know about?

A very opaque stare. Id tell you.

Unless you had other orders. Has the captain been in contact with you? Am I being set up?

A moment more that Saito looked at him and never a flinch. Of course not.


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Chapter 8
 ^ 
Hard day? villanueva asked, at the dessert bar.

Could say. The one claim you could make for Earths vicinity was more varieties of sweet and spice than a man could run through in a year. And Graff personally intended to try during his tenure herea tenure in which combat was beginning to look preferable. Whats this one? he asked of the line worker, but Villy said, Raisin cake. Allspice, cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg

You have it down. Graff was fencing. He was sure Villy wasnt here entirely for the dessert. He didnt want the lecture. He didnt want the inquiry. He was, however, amazed at Villys culinary expertise.

Villy shrugged. You guys always ask.Hows Dekker doing?

All right till the colonel clipped him. He weighed asking. He couldnt stand the suspense. Did he send you?

Hesitation. Could say that.

Whats he after?

Hes saying put the boy back into lower levels. Use Mitchells crew, use me and mine. He says he takes your point, no command substitutions, no crew subs until we get this thing operating.

Why doesnt he make his own offers?

Seems us pi-luts talk better to each other, at least where it concerns capabilities. You want the truthI suggested he lay off the substitutions.

Wish you could have done that earlier.

Villanueva gave him a look back. Truth is, I did.

Graff picked up his tray and tracked Villy to the tables in the officers mess, said, Do you mind? and sat down opposite him before he had an answer.

Be my guest, Villy said.

There had to be looks from other tables, assessing their expressions, the length of their converse. Graff said, urgently, Its no deal, Villy. I cant. Your colonels got no right to pull him

Do him credit, Villy didnt even try to defend the technicality. Mitchells crew and mine. No subs. When Dekker passes the medicals and the reaction testsask the colonel then. Hell put him back on. Just wait till the boy quiets. For his own sake. For the programs.

Whose medicals? Yours or ours?

Villy evidently hadnt considered that point. Ill talk to the colonel. Maybe we can arrange something. We cant afford another setback. You know it and I know it. Weve got to pull this thing together before we lose it.

Im willing. But I want the heat off Dekkers tail. The kids had enough.

No argument here.

A bite of cake. Time to reflect. Captain Villy,do you personally know what happened in the pod access?

Villy didnt answer that one straightaway either. If I knew it was us I wouldnt say. If I didnt know anything, I wouldnt have an answer. What does that tell you?

You dance well.

Villy laughed, not with much humor. Tapped the table with his finger. We got the senatorials and the techs out of here. Weve got the program back in our hands. Were not going to get another design. Thats the word.

First hed heard. Had they won one? No redesign?

Thats the whisper going down the line. Heard it from the Old Man. We dont get the ai. Rumor is, were going for another run in the sims, try to build a stricter no-do into the pilot, not the machine.

Graff leaned back, heart thumping. Took a breath. He couldnt tell whether Villanueva was happy with that situation or not. So whats your opinion?

Go with it. Thats what Im saying. Your best. And ours. We try to set the tape, best we can. Then we fly with it.You won it, J-G. Enjoy it.

The nickname was traveling. And he wasnt sure hed won anything: hed gotten extremely wary of concessions from Tanzers office. But Villy said:

Were not happy with the situationI dont trust your tape-teaching, and thats evidently what theyre leaning on, heavier and heavier. I dont like the damn system, I still dont think drugging down and walking through any situation is any cure for some kid hitting his personal wallwe cant guarantee your reflexes, or mine, are going to be in every guy thats ever going to run through this program.

Old argument. Graff said softly, delicately, Thats why were getting them where were getting them. But he didnt say, And well fill out the primary pilot list outside Sol System. You didnt say that. On the captains orders you didnt. Earth didnt want to know that.

No.

Listen, Villy said, you know and I know were reaching the bottom of the barrel. People dont go out to be miners and Shepherds because theyre upstanding citizens. Theyre ex-rab, theyre asocials These two girls you got inboth of them have records

The rab was some kind of Emigration movement. Pro-space. Anti-Company. It had turned violent, ten years ago, big blow-up, company police had panicked, opened fire on a crowd

Dekker has a record, he reminded Villy. Hes also popular in the Belt. The Company system out there was crooked. He beat it. You know what the udc s setting up, making his life difficult? Its certainly not the best PR move the udc could make. And Kady and Aboujib were part of Dekkers crew out there, such as survivedanother pilot and a numbers man, as the Belters call it: good ones, for what the record shows.

Villy made a wry expression, took a sip of coffee. May be. Well seeonce the boys back in the sims. Personally, I hope he makes it. Hes a son of a bitch, but Chad didnt dislike him.

Wasnt any animosity on either side, that I know. Dekker got along with Wilhelmsen.

A pause. J-G, off the recordbetween you and me: do you really buy it that Chads crew dumped him in that pod?

I dont buy it that Dekker went crazy when he saw the ship blow. Not till the mps tried to make him leave mission control, get him away from the senators and the VIPs. After that, no, he wasnt highly reasonable. Would you be? So he said something that wasnt politicpeople do that. Other people dont necessarily try to kill them in cold blood. No, Im not accusing the crew. I find it almost as unlikely as Dekker doing it to himself. Youve got to understand, Villy: this kid spent a couple of months in the dark, in a tumble, in the Beltbad accident. He couldnt get the ship back under control. This isnt a guy whos going to suicide that way, of all the ways he could pick. And no Belters going to do that to him. Not the way they did it. So you tell me what happened.

Villy thought about that one, thought about it very seriously, by all he could tell. Then: Let me tell you about Chads crew. Theyre professionals, Robs got a father hes supporting, guy got caught in a tractor accident, insurance wont pay anything but basics; Kesslan and Deke are real close with Robtheyre not going to risk it, for one thing, even if they were that mad, which I dont think they were. I think they understood Dekkers outburst. Might not have liked it, but understood it. Murder just doesnt add.

Made some sensegranted the father had no means of support; which he personally didnt knownor understand, inside Earths maze of cultures and governments, any more than he understood the motives and the angers that bred in the motherwell.

Wont say, Villy added, that there arent some others Dekker couldve touched off. But dont try to tell me it was Chads crew.

I respect your judgement. Mostly, that was the truth. But what do we do? Dekker doesnt deserve whats happened. His crew didnt deserve what happened. Wilhelmsendidnt deserve what happened. Let me tell you, in that hearing, I never tried to suggest that Wilhelmsen was primarily at fault, because I never believed it. He was good. It was exactly what I said: that substitution killed him and it killed the rest of them.

Villy was listening, at least. Maybe it was something in the coffee. Reason seemed possible of a sudden and he hammered it home. Its not possible, its not the way things work at light speed, Villy, it cant be, you cant treat people like that. An ops team is a living organism. You dont split it and expect it to perform with anything like efficiency.

Long silence. A sip of coffee. Weve changed the damn specs so often its a wonder anything mates with anything. The mechanics are overworked, they cant do the maintenance in the manufacturers specs, on the schedule theyre being handed, with the staff theyve got. Thats the next disaster waiting to happen and nobody wants to listen to them. Weve got a program in trouble.

Weve got a human race in trouble, Villy. Ive been there, Ive seen what were fightingI dont want that future for the species, I dont happen to think that social designers can remake the model weve got

But when you thought about it, just trying to talk to Villyyou began asking yourselfHavent we, havent we, already? Hasnt distance, and hasnt time?

Like to take you outside the well, like to open your eyes, Captain Villy, and let you feel it when you drop out and in. Theyd never get you back here again

Because the part of Villanueva there was to like, came alive when he was talking about his job. You saw that sometimes in his face.

You have no attachment, Villanueva said, no feeling for being from this planet.

Ive met what isnt, Graff said.

Interest from Villy. Quirk of a brow. What are they like?

Theyre them. Were us. Sociable fellows. They dont fight wars.

So why are you in this one? Villanueva asked. Earth didnt ask for thisnot our business, a planet clear to hell and gone away from us. Earth Company brought us this thing. The old bottom line. They rooked us into it. Rooked you in too? Or what made you enlist?

Good question. Complicated question. Our ships routes. The ship I was born to. Polly dOr. Didnt ask for trouble, but they tried to cut us out, wanted to regulate where we came and wentretaliation for the Earth Companys visas. Economics on one scale. Our ship on the other.

Villy still looked confused, still didnt get it.

Wed lose everything. The Fleets what keeps those routes open. Only thing that does. They cant enforce their embargo.

Hell and away from us.

Now. Not forever. Lucky you have us. Itll come hereeventually itll come here.

Not everybody believes that.

Nobody outside this system doubts it. Youll deal with Cyteenon your terms. Or on theirs. Their technology. You want your personality type changed. They can do it. You want your planet re-engineered? They can do that. They are doing itbut we cant get close enough to find out what. We dont get into that system anymore.

We.

The merchanters they dont own.

You ever been down to a planet?

He shook his head.

Ever thought about it?

No.

What are you afraid of?

The question bothered him. He was in a mood right now. Maybe it was Tanzer. Maybe it was because hed never really thought about it.

Maybe all those people. Maybe being at the bottom of the well, knowing I cant get myself out of it.

Villanueva frowned, said, finally, I grew up under blue sky. But if they get me down there I cant get out either. Trying to retire me to the damn hq. I want this ship to fly. Itll be the last one I work on. I want this one to fly. Thats my reason.

We got a few slots, Captain Villy.

A glance, a laugh. Old guy like me?

Times slower out there. Remember Im in my forties.

Villanueva pushed back from the table, leaned back in the chair. Damn you, youre trying to seduce me.

He felt a tight smile stretch his mouth. Were the only game there is. You dont want to die in the well. Take you out, Captain Villy. Dont let them send you down

Damn you.

Think on it.

Villy set his elbows on the table. About the Dekker business

He was merchanterbefore he was militia, before he was Fleet. And you did try to get it screwed down tight, whenever you talked deal.

Dekkers back in the program.

Marginally back in the program. Contingent on the medicals.

Our medicals.

Coffee could use a warm-up. Yours?

Rec hall, the term was, but it was the same messhall, they just pulled the wall back and opened up the game nook next door: dinner started at 1800h, canteen and a bar opened at 2000h if you could keep your eyes open that late, which Dekker didnt think he could, even if it was one of the rare shifts his duty card wouldnt show a No Alcohol Allowed. He was walked out, talked outGet the man a sandwich and shove him in bed, was Megs advice; and he was in no mind to argue with it.

There were a few empty tables left in the middle. They drew their drinks. Stake out a table, Dekker advised them. Nobodyll take it if your drinks are sitting.

Ben was in the lead; Ben stopped and hesitated over the choice of seats in front of them. They got a rule where you sit or what? Ben asked, with a motion of his cup forward. Dekker looked, numbly twigged to what was so ordinary a sight it didnt even register: all udc at the one end of the hall, from the serving line; all Fleet at the other.

This end, he said.

There some rule? Ben repeated.

They just do. Sounded stupid, once you tried to justify it. Not much in common. But you didnt sit at the other end. Just didnt.

Plus a change, rab. Sal gave a shake of her metal-capped braids, set down her drink and pulled back a chair. You sit, Dek. Well do. What shall we get? Cheese san? Goulash? Veg-stew? Fast line or the slow one, was what it amounted to.

Dunno. He hadnt known how sore he was till he felt a chair under him, and now suddenly everything ached. The walking tour of the facility was a long walk, and bones ached, shoulders ached, head achedhe said, Chips and a chicken saladautomat, if you dont mind. Do them credit, the cooks kept the stuff as fresh as you could get on the line; or the rapid turnaround did. Something light sounded good, and come to think of it, sleep began to. He wasnt up for a long evening. In any sense. He hoped Meg wouldnt take offense.

Theyd done all the check-ins, gotten Meg and Sal scheduled for Aptitudes tomorrowBen had outright refused to sign up, declaring they could damned well get his Aptitudes from the udc , or court-martial him for failure to show for tests: not an outright show of temper with the examiners, no, just a perfectly level insistence they look up his Security clearance, Ben said; turn up his assignment to Stockholm Benjamin Pollard wasnt taking any Fleet Aptitudes until they showed him his old ones or put him in court.

Damned mess, he reflected, sorry for Ben, truly sorry for what had seemed to a pain-hazed mind his only rescue. Bens talk about court martial upset him. Bens situation did. And all the lieutenant would say, when he had in fact gotten a phone call through to him, was: Well work with that. Let me talk to the examiners, all right?

He ground at his eyes with the heels of his hands, listened to the dull buzz of conversation and rattling plates over the monotone of the vid, and wondered if there was anything unthought of he could do, any pull he personally had left to use, to get Ben back where he belongedas much as that, if there was anything he could do to send Meg and Sal back homeno matter that Meg really wanted her chance at the program. Hed been on an emotional rollercoaster since this morning, hed been ready to go back to routine and theyd stopped him; theyd told him the lieutenant was fighting that, and hed been ready to come from the bottom againtil, God, Meg hit him with the business about flying either with him or against him.

He didnt want to see her killed, he didnt want to lose anybody elsehe didnt want to be responsible for any life he cared about. He kept seeing that fireball when he shut his eyes; in the crowd-noise, he kept hearing the static on Corys channel, in the tumbling and the darkbecause Megs threat had made it imminent, and real.

The hall seemed cold this evening. Somebody had been messing with the temperature controls, or the memories brought back the constant chill of the Belt. He sat there rebreathing his own breath behind his hands, knowing (Ben had a blunt, right way of putting it) knowing he was being a spook, knowing he hadnt any right to shove Meg around, or tell her anythingno more than hed had any right to take Bens name in vain or ask for Meg and Sal to come herehe supposed he must have asked for Meg, too, since they were here, even if he couldnt figure why the Fleet had gone to that kind of trouble

Except the captain had wanted him to testify in that hearing Ben had told him about, the one it was too late to testify in, even if he could rememberwhich he couldnt.

So hed let the captain down, hed let the lieutenant down

in what cause he didnt know; he only knew hed disrupted three lives.

So Meg hadnt been happy where shed been, so the Hamilton wouldnt let her right to the top of the pilots list: you didnt get into that chair just walking aboard, Meg had to have known that, Meg must have known what to expect, coming in on a working crew with its own seniorities and its own way of doing things

So you took a little hell. So you stuck it out. Everybody took hell. He hadnt been all that good at keeping his head down and taking it, but, God, hed started a police record when he was thirteen: hed been a stupid kidand Meg had done a stupid thing or two, run contraband, something like that, that had busted her from the Earth shuttle to the Belt; but he and Meg were both older, now, Meg ought to know better and do betterhed made it in the Belt; so had Megso she had to have damn-all better sense than she was using

You all right? Meg asked. They were back with the sandwiches. He took a drink of the cola, wished he hadnt gotten an iced drink.

Yeah, he said, chilled. He took his sandwich and unwrapped it while they sat down with their trays. Something on the vid about the hearings. Missile test, they called it. That was Hellburners cover story. They talked about hearings adjourning on Sol One He wished theyd change the channel. Watch the stupid rerun movies. Had to be better. The message net had to be better.

What else do we need? Meg was asking. What about these tests tomorrow? Is there anything we can do to prep ourselves?

Nothing but a lot of sleep. Relax. They put you through anything on the carrier? They did, me.

Didnt see a damned soul on the carrier, except at mealtimes. We played gin most of the way.

Nice guys, Sal sighed, and the reg-u-lations said we couldnt touch em.

That got a frown out of Ben. And Sals elbow in Bens ribs.

Meg said, So what do we do? Whats it like?

They hook you up to a machine, like medical tests, eye tests, response tests, hand-eye, that sort of thing.

Hurt? Sal asked.

Yeah, some.

You going to study up? Sal asked Ben.

Im telling you, Im not taking them. Im not showing. Let them court-martial me, its exactly what I want 

Ben,

Guys stopped by the table. C-Barracks. Techs. Mason, among them, nudged his shoulder with his tray. Dek, Mason said. How you doing?

All right, he said, pretty tired.

Good to see you. Real good to see you

Pop-u-lar, Ben said when Mason and his guys had moved on. Just cant figure how. All these people get to know you and they havent broken your neck.

Ben, Sal said, defending him. But it didnt sting, couldnt even say why, justit didnt. Ben didnt ask for help, Ben didnt ask for anythingCory had been a lot like that. Ben was going to fight his way out of this mess on his own, and that was at least one piece of karma he wouldnt have to worry about.

Best he started to say. And caught a name on the vid, sounded like Dekker. He picked up Sol Station, and lodging a complaint

Ms. Dekker, what specifically are you alleging?

God. It was. She looked

Dek? Meg asked, and turned around to look where he was looking, at the vid, at a woman in a crowd of reporters. Blond hair was faded. Face was lined. She didnt look good, she didnt look at all good

Something about MarsCorp, something about threats, an investigation into phone calls Some organization backing a suit

Sal said: Whats going on? and Meg: Shhh.

He couldnt track on it. Didnt make sense. Something about losing her job, some civil rights organization launching a lawsuit in her name

Its his mother, Ben said; he said, Shut up, dammit, I cant hear But he could see the background, see the MarsCorp logo, he knew that oneMarsCorp offices on Sol Station, police, reporters, some guy who said he was a lawyersomething about her son

Picture jumped, tore up. The local station cut in with the channel 2 program information crawlbut he wasnt finished yet, wasnt damned finished yet

They cut it off! He shoved the chair around to get up, get to a phone, saw the shadow of the tray and the sense of balance wasnt there. He staggered, hit it, food went everywhere, cup bouncedShit! He was flat off his balance, elbowed the guy trying to hold his feet, guy grabbed at him and he didnt want a fight, he just wanted the phone. Get out of my way!

You son of a bitch! The guy had his arm. Ben and Meg and Sal grabbed for him, Ben saying something about Let him go, the mans upset; but the guy wasnt letting him go, the guy swung him and he grabbed for a handhold on the udc uniform, about the time there were a whole lot of other chairs clearing, and Fleet was all around them. A high voice yelled, You damn fools, stop it

Wasnt any stopping it. The udc guy hit him, and he hit the guy with everything he had, figuring it was the only blow he was going to get incouldnt hear anything, with guys coming over the tables, guys pushing and shoving and punches flying past his headhe didnt want to be here, he wanted the damned phone, wanted the truth out of the station, that was all

Lights were flashing on and off, shouting filled his ears, fist rattled his skull and gray and red shot across his vision as arms came around him and hauled him out of it.

He wasnt breathing real well, couldnt half see: he yelled after Meg and Sal in the melee, couldnt tell who he was hitting when he tried to break free

Dekker! That was the lieutenant. So he was in deeper shit; but more imminently of a sudden, he had his wind cut off as they bent him over a table. Something cold clicked shut around his wrists. That scared him: hed felt that before and it got through to his brain that the guys holding him were the cops, and Graffs voice made him understand that help was here, the fight was over, and the lieutenant wanted him to stand still. He tried to; which meant they got the other wrist, locked the cuff on, and at least pulled him back off the table so he could get a breath

The guy shoved him. Megs voice rang out loud and clear. Wasnt Deks fault, he was just trying to get upit was an emergency, f Gods sake. This ass wanted to argue right of way!

Guys started shouting all around, one side calling the other the liars.

Clear back! Voice he knew but couldnt place. His nose was running and he sniffed. Couldnt say anything, just tried to breathe past the stuffy nose and the clog in his throat.

What happened here? the Voice askedhe blinked the haze mostly clear and saw a lot of mps, a lot of angry guys standing along the wall with more mps and soldiers. What Happened Here? drew shouting from all around, Meg and Sal profane and high-pitched in the middle of it, how the guyd bumped him, how his mother was in some kind of trouble on the news

Had to talk about his mother, God, he didnt want an audience, didnt want to talk about his mother in front of everybody. He tried to look elsewhere, and meanwhile the lieutenant was saying theyd better move this out of here, hed take him in custody

Please God. Anywhere, fast.

The other voice said: I think wed both better get this moved out of here, and he made out the blurry face now for Captain Villy, with a knot of udc mps and a whole lot of trouble. They were holding Meg, and Sal, and Ben, among a dozen mixed others. Move em, Villy said, and there were Fleet Security uniforms among the lot. He started to argue for Meg and Sal and Ben; but: Dekker, Graff said sharply, and said, Do it.

He did it. He kept his head down and walked where they wanted him to, he heard Graff at the top of his lungs chewing out the rest of the guys in the messhall and Villanueva doing the same, telling them they were all damned fools, telling them how they were on the same team

Yeah, he thought. Yeah. Tell em that, lieutenant.

Himself, he didnt want to think what was going on back at Sol Station, didnt want to think what hed just done back there in the messhall; he kept his mouth shut all the way to the mp post, and inside; him, and Ben and a whole crowd of their guys and the udc arrestees; but when they tried to take Meg and Sal into the back rooms:

I want Fleet Securitylaissez, laissez, you sumbitch

ow!

And Sal screamed how she was going to file complaints for rape and brutality

The mps got real anxious then. Wheres Cathy? one asked, and a guy got on the phone and started trying to scare up a female officer, while Meg argued with them about holding on to him, Dammit, let him go, hes just out of hospital, for Gods sakeman got up and bumped a tray, his mother was on the news

God. Meg, shut up. It doesnt matter!

That sumbitch shoved you!

At which the sumbitch with the custard all over him started yelling at Meg, somebody shoved, Sal started yelling, and he couldnt do anything, he was cuffed, same as Ben was, same as the udc guy was, except theyd made the mistake of not doing that with Meg and Sal.

Meg, he yelled, Meg!

They got rough with Meg, they got rough with Sal, he kicked a guy where he saw a prime exposed target and they shoved him up against the wall, grabbed him by the hair and by the collar and shoved him into a chair.

She didnt do anything, he said, but nobody was listening to him. He said, None of them did anything

They got Meg and Sal out of the room. Ben and the other guy, too, and left one guy to stand and watch him. He was dizzy, the adrenaline still had his head going around, and his nose dripped a widening circle on his shirt. He tried to sniff it back, breathing alternate with that disgusting sensation; and in his head kept replaying as much as hed heard on the vid about what was going on with his mother

A lawsuit, for Gods sakebut she wasnt anybody to show up on vid, with lawyers fromwhat the hell organization was it?

The Civil Liberty Association? He didnt know who they were, but shed looked like hell, hair stringing around her ears, makeup a mess. He kept seeing her blinking at the strong lights and looking lost and angry. He knew that look. Shed worn it the last time shed bailed him out of juvenile court.

 I dont need any more trouble, shed written him. Stop sending me money. I dont want any more ties to you. I dont want any more letters

He had never taken leave back to Sol One: there was a serious question, Legal Affairs had warned him from the beginning of his enlistment, whether once he came onto Sol Station where lawyers could get to him with papers, he could escape a civil process being served or whether the Fleet could prevent him being arrested. The Fleet had put him behind a security wall only because having him on trial wouldnt sit well with the Belt, where they mined the steel; and the ec cooperated because letting Cory Salazars case get to the media would raise questions about a whole long laundry list of things about astex and MarsCorp the Earth Company itself didnt want washed in public. Anything to keep him out of court

Because damned right there was a connection between his mother and MarsCorp, it was him, it was Cory Salazars mother, whod wanted to have a daughter, had one solo and tried to run that daughters life and now her afterlife as a personal vendetta against the pusher-jock whod romanced her collegiate offspring out of her hands.

Hell if that was the way it had been. Cory had dreamed of starships, Coryd hated her mothers laid-out coursecollege to a MarsCorp guaranteed success trackso much that Cory couldnt run fast enough or far enough to escape it. Maybe starships had only been a kids romantic answerbut Cory had come to the Belt because shed thought she could double and triple her money freerunningshed lured him along for a pilot, and theyd nearly done it, until Cory ran head-on into the corrupt System her mama had wanted her to sit at the top ofand it killed her.

That was the bloody truth. That was the thing Alyce Salazar wouldnt see. Hed wanted to tell her so: hed imagined how hed say it if he got the chance, maybe talk to her sanely, maybe just grab her and shake some sense into mama, so shed do something about the system that had killed Cory.

But Legal Affairs had nixed any such move, said plainly, Dont communicate with her. Dont attempt to communicate with her. And made it an order.

So now Alyce Salazar had communicated with his mother: he knew that was the case, because his mother wasnt dedicated to finding trouble, his mother was the absolute champion of Never get involved

The side door opened. A team of medics came in, with: Lets have a look at you, so he sat where they wanted and let them look at his eyes with lights, and into his ears, and his mouth. They got the nosebleed stopped, at least, then said theyd better have him down in the clinic for a thorough go-over.

No, he objected, suddenly panicked. Theres nothing wrong with me.

But they took him anyway.

Aboujib, assault with a weapon, incitement
Basrami, assault
Bissell, assault
Blumgarten, assault, assault on an officer
Brown, assault with a weapon
Cannon, assault, incitement
Dekker, instigation of riot, assault
Franklin, assault with a weapon
Hardesty, assault
Hasseini, assault, verbal abuse of an officer
Jacoby, assault with a weapon
Kady, assault, assault on an officer
Keever, assault, destruction of government property
Mason, assault
Mitchell, assault, assault on an officer
Pauli, assault, incitement
Pollard, assault with a weapon
Rasmussen, verbal abuse; (hospital)
Schwartz, assault
Simmons, assault
Vasquez, assault; (hospital)
Zeeman, aggravated assault

Graff read the list, handed it to Petrie, the junior out of Legal Affairs. I want interviews, any way you can get them. Record everything. I want them now, I want any releases you can get, I want them an hour ago. And I want condition, instigator and perpetrator on our hospital cases.

Yessir. Petrie put the list in his case. The temper must be showing. Petrie didnt stop for questions of his own. The door shut.

Demas, resting against the counter, said, Doesnt seem there was anything premeditated: the channel 3 news boss recognized a correspondence of names on the Sol One news feed, suddenly realized it was sensitive, and jerked the report off the airbad decision. Dekker happened to be in the messhall, the vid happened to be channel 3. Charlie Tyson happened to be behind him with a tray; Dekker jumped upbang into the tray. Tyson blew up, Dekker blew, the whole messhall blew.

I want a tape of that news broadcast, I want to know whats going on with Dekkers mother, I want to know what shes involved in.

You want it in capsule now? Demas asked. Ive got the essentials.

Go.

Dekkers mother got fired two days ago. She was a maintenance workerelectricianfor SolCorp. The maintenance office claimed incompetencethe record is apparently inaccessibleshe claimed she was a victim of MarsCorp pressure inside the ec, claimed Salazars agents had been harassing her on the phone. She showed up in front of the MarsCorp office with lawyers and reporters, MarsCorp called Security, and a MarsCorp spokesman went on camera to charge Ms. Dekker with sabotage and threatening phone callsapparently Ms. Dekker had been doing some work inside the MarsCorp sector and got some phone numbers, by what Ms. Salazar charges. Ms. Dekker claims theyve been harassing hercalls on her off watch, that kind of thing. Ms. Dekkers got some civil rights organization on her side, theyre charging Ms. Salazar used pressure to get Ms. Dekkers job on personal grounds. End report.

Harassing phone calls. Is Ms. Salazar on One?

She was eight days ago, at the time Ms. Dekker claims she got two of the calls. Shes in London at the moment. Ms. Dekker claims she asked for a trace on the calls. The station office claims there was no such request and says their records show no calls to Ms. Dekkers residence. Demas folded his arms. Ask how sophisticated Ms. Salazars employees might be.

I take it there are ways to evade those records.

Abundant methodslimited only by the sophistication of the operator and the equipment. This is a woman who maintains apartments in two space stations and a couple of world capitals, on two separate planets. I would not match a station electrician against her technical resources.

Weve been sleeping through this one. I need a structural chart of MarsCorp and the ec. With names and kinships. Damn, the Security chief waswhere else?with the captain. Can we get that through our own channels?

We can try. Its going to be a maze. Kinships, Im not sure are going to be systematized anywhere. Theyre illegal, rememberwhere it regards government contracts. Personal friendships are illegal.

Are animosities?

A humorless laugh. Unfortunately theres no such rule. Among those cards on your desk is the Alyce Salazar file such as we have itwith Saitos compliments. Some of the information may be in there. Its going to take Legal Affairs to

unravel the MarsCorp connections?

Demas nodded. If they can.

Meanwhile theres the next shuttle to One. I want somebody on it. I want somebody to go personally to the captains officeif there still is an officeand get a report to him were sure isnt intercepted. And I want some message back here that isnt wearing a udc uniform or Belter chain and claiming they dont know a thing. I should have done it when Pollard came in here.

Demas looked thoughtful. Ill look up the schedule.

Due in at 0900h on the 27th, out at 2030h the 29th, weve got a service hold for scheduled maintenance. Theyre claiming its booked full outbound. Theres always some contractor holding seats. If weve got any pullget one.

Hed gotten used to being handled like a piece of meat. Hed gotten used to cameras and doctors and cops. They made a vid record of the new skin on his shoulder and the finger-marks on his arm. They asked him whod hit him, he just shook his head, didnt even have to come out of his haze to talk to them. They took samples of his hair, his skin, his blood, and whatever fluid they could wring out of his body; Pulse rate just wont go down, one of them said. Thats on his hospital records.

What do you expect? he asked, only time hed opened his mouth except for a tongue depressor, and one of them said he should calm down.

Yeah, he said. His stomach was upset from the poking around they were doing. He tried to go on timing out, just go away and blind himself with the lights and not to let his heart flutter, the way it felt it was doing. Couldnt think about anything if you wanted to fake out the meds. Think of

Sol One. His mothers apartment. But that was no good. His mother was in trouble, thanks to him

Way Out. But that ship was dead. Like Cory.

Think of stupid stuff. Name the moons of Saturn. Jupiter had used to work, but hed learned that real estate too intimately.

Docking fire sequence for a miner ship. Range and rate of closing.

Finally one said, Names Parton. Fleet Medical. How are you doing, Lt. Dekker?

Fleet. He said, The lieutenant agree with this?

The lieutenant doesnt agree with fighting.

So he was in trouble. With everybody. He slid a glance over to the wall, where he didnt have to look at Parton or get in an argument, and wondered distractedly if he could get a word out of the news channel if he could just get permission to make a phone call

But the medic, Parton, was talking with the other medicssaid, of the blood pressure, Yeah, he does that. Doesnt like hospitals. Doesnt like udc medics, if you want the plain truth

Not real fond of any meds right now,sir. Can I get up?

But he didnt ask that, he didnt think it was smart to ask, at this point. He got an elbow under himthey had him lying on a table freezing his ass off, and he only wanted to relieve the ache in his back. But a hand landed on his shoulder: it had a udc uniform cuff. mp. He lay back and stared at the lights and froze in silence until the Fleet medic came back and stood over him.

Lieutenants orders: you go where youre told to go, you dont argue, you dont say anything about the incident to anybody but our legal staff, you understand?

He said, burning with embarrassment, Something about my mother on the news, can anybody for Gods sake find out what happened to my mother?

Lieutenants aware of that. Hes making inquiries.

What about the other guys? Pollard and Kady and Aboujib

Theyre fine.

They arrest them too?

Riot and assault. Parton looked across him, over his head. Lieutenant wants him with his unit. The three he named.

Kady and Aboujib are women.

Theyre his unit, sergeant.

Long silence. Then: Ill have to ask the major.

Age-old answer. Dekker shut his eyes. Figured theyd be a while asking and getting no. Its protecting me from Kady you better worry about, he told them. Bad joke. Nobody was laughing. He wasnt amused either. Meg had a record of some kind. Meg had just gotten it cleared, got a chance to fly again. Ben had his assignment in Stockholm

His mother used to say, You damned kid, everything you touch you break

You messed up my whole life, you self-centered little bratwhy cant you do right, why cant you once in your life do something right, you damned screw-up?

Long time he lay there freezing, with a knot in his gut, replaying that newscast for the information he could get out of it, telling himself they couldnt prove anything on his mother, shed at least got some kind of lawyer, so she wasnt without help

Hed got a little money ahead, hed saved it out of his pay, he wasnt spending anything. Hed tried to give it to her before, for what hed cost her, but she hadnt wanted it. Maybe he could get Ben to send it to her. Maybe shed take it from Benshe was going to need funds fast, if she wasnt drawing pay, she never got that far ahead of the bills, and even if she had free legal help, it wouldnt pay for food

Word is, he cant go in a cell with the women, the mp said. Regulations. We can put him with Pollard

He didnt argue. Parton only said hed report that refusal to the lieutenant.

Parton left. The udc medics got him up. The mps locked a bracelet on his wrist that they said he wasnt to mess with, and took him out and down the hall to the cells.

Guys from his barracks yelled out, along the way, Hey, Dek! and he looked numbly to the side. Mason and Chiv were there. Pauli. Young. And across the aislea guy he didnt know, familiar face, who looked murder at him. So he didnt look. He walked where they wanted him, they took the cuffs off when hed gotten to Bens cell and they opened the door and put him in.

Ben gave him a sullen look. He didnt figure Ben wanted to start a fight in front of the mps. So he got over in the corner, there being just a double bunk and a toilet, and Ben sitting on the bunk: he sank down on the floor with his back to the corner, feeling the bruises and feeling the silence from the bunk.

mps stood there a moment more looking at him. He had the fanciful notion that after they left Ben was going to get up and come over and kill him. But he didnt truly think so. Hit himyeah. He expected that. He even wanted it. Anything to stop him thinking about the mess hed made.

The mps went away.

Ben said, The place is probably bugged.

Which meant Ben wouldnt kill himnot in front of any cameras. He sat there with his knees drawn up to his chest so tight he couldnt move and felt numb.

You going to sit there?

He didnt know what else to do. Didnt care about climbing up to the top bunk. He was comfortable enough where he wascomfortable as he was going to get.

You sure got a way of finding it, you know that?

Yeah, he said. It cost to say, Sorry, Ben, but he did it, past the knot in his throat. He hadnt said it often enough, maybe, over the years, and a lot of the people he should have said it toit was too late to tell.

Ben didnt say anything for a while. Finally: You break anything?

No. He wasnt sure about the ribs, and the lately-broken arm and the shoulder ached like hell, but the meds hadnt taped anything, or sent him back to hospital, so probably not. He just generally hurt.

Son of a bitch, Ben muttered. Ben might hit him after all. Bens chances of getting out of here and back to his security clearance had sunk, maybe, as low as they could go. Ben had nothing to lose.

Ben muttered, Get out of the damn corner. You look like hell.

He made a tentative move of his legs. But he was wedged in. Couldnt do it without more effort than he wanted to spend. So he shook his head, just wanted to be left in peace a while. Didnt want an argument or he just wanted this one to play itself out and come to some distracting conclusion.

Damn. Ben got up, came over and grabbed him up by one wrist and the other, turned him back to the bunk and shoved him onto it.

Bang went his head against the wall. He just rested where hed hit and stared at Ben, Ben with this thoughtful expression he couldnt figure out. Mad, he expected. But he didnt want to deal with complexities or have Ben trying to con him. And Bens frown didnt look as angry as Ben should. You sick? You want the meds?

Ive had em. He curled into the corner where the bunk met the wall, tucked up and tried to project a thorough Leave me alone.

Ben sat down, put a hand on his ankle and shook him. You all right?

Yeah. He jerked his leg, Ben moved his hand, and he sat there with his arms across his gut, because he felt the pieces coming apart, the one reliable guy he knew was after him in a way that didnt mean Ben had just gone friendlyoh, no, Ben had just changed the rules; Ben was after something, maybe his neck, maybe just after using him to get what he wanted: Belters were like that, that were born there. You could partner with them. You could deal with them. But you didnt ever take for granted they thought the way you did.

Your mamas in some kind of trouble, is she?

Her trouble.

Ben said, Sounds to me like Salazar.

Theyd gotten altogether too friendly one watch, on the ship, on the trip out from the Belt. Their lives had been changing. Late one night hed told Ben a lot of things he wished now he hadnt. Early as the next wakeup, hed known it was a mistake. Leave it the hell alone, Ben. Its not your business.

Not my business. You are a son of a bitch, you know that, Dekker?

Yeah, he said. Ive been told.

Listen, Dekker,

I said let it ride!

What else does your mama have to do with MarsCorp?

She fixes the damn circuits, all over Sol One. Shes an electricianthey dont ask her politics or her religion before they send her into an officemaybe she screwed up a job

MarsCorp? Come on, Dekker.

MarsCorp, the Vatican for all I know, I dont know what shes into, I dont know whats going on, they cut the damn news off, werent you listening?

Dekker,I want you to say nice things to the cops, I want you to use your head, I want you to say Im sorry to the nice udc guys and yessir to the colonel and dont the hell get us in any more heat, you understand me?

Yeah, he said. Simple demands, he could cope with. He got his back into the corner and his knees tucked up out of Bens convenient reach. Didnt like guys touching him. He was sure Ben didnt mean it any way but Pay Attention, but he didnt like it. Its my fault. The whole damn things my fault, I got that loud and clear, all right? Im sorry you got involved.

Ben hit his foot. Another Pay Attention. Dek-boy, you are in deep shit here, have you noticed that? Stop thinking about your mama, you have got enough shit to occupy your time. I do not want you to screw up in front of the lieutenant, I do not want you to mouth off to the mps, I do not want you to get us in deeper than we are. You copy that? Now, for all those watching, we are going to agree there is involved in this a Name that they wont want in court, no more than they did when they the hell raked you into the Service and gave me my slot at ti. That Name is, let us agree, Salazar. So we are not going to court-martial, we are not going to see any outside lawyers, we are behind the thickest fuckin security wall in the inner system, and I think it would be a most severely good idea not to antagonize the Fleet at this point, since the udc is for some whimsical reason not all that happy with you. Do you follow?

Jaw wasnt working all that well. He nodded. He couldnt stop thinking about his mother. He couldnt help thinking how a lot of people would be alive if hed never existed and how people connected to him might have better lives now if he was dead and Salazar didnt have anybody to go after.

Ben said it rightSalazar couldnt get a message to him through ordinary channels, so she sent one on the news. Im here. Im still waiting. Ill get what you care about until I can get you

He didnt track on everything Ben saidbut that, that, he understood. He wanted to get to a phone. He wanted permission from someone to get a call out.

Which was exactly what Salazar wanted. So he couldnt do that. Couldnt, dammit. Not without thinking more clearly than he was right now

Let her have him, maybe, do something so the Fleet would throw him out and all the Belter and Shepherd types whod protected him wouldnt want to, wouldnt give a damn if he went to trial

Then, if they ever let him testify, he could tell mama Salazar to her face shed killed her own kid. Only revenge Cory would ever haveunless you counted a few execs out of jobs. But theyd find others. The Company always found a place for the fools. Ben said so. And he believed it. They just promoted them sideways, somewhere they hadnt a repyet. The Company took care of its own.

Severe mess, Sal said with a shake of her braids. Meg concurred with that.

Sloppy place, she said, looking around at a scarred, dirty cell. The tank over at One is ever-so nicer. She felt a draft from a torn coat sleeve, and leaned her back against the wall, one leg tucked. They werent in prison coveralls. The Es-tab-lish-ment was still trying to figure what to do with them, she supposed, on grounds of her previous experience with such places. D you spose the lieutenant has got a plan, or what-all?

I sincerely do hope, Sal said. Sal had an eye trying to swell shut. A cut lip. Sal did not look happy with her situation. Sal looked, in fact, intensely scared, now the adrenaline rush was gone and they were sitting in a cell with a riot charge over their heads.

It was a set-up, Meg said. Dont you smell set-up? I never saw a room blow so fast. Just a skosh peculiar, they let Dek out and they run him back in, and us so seriously important and all? Were the ones they shagged a carrier to get here. Are they going to forget us? Nyet. Non.

Sal was still frowning. Amnesias been known. Strikes people in office, most often. I hear they got no vaccine.

Faith, Aboujib. Believe in justice. Sal snorted. Almost laughed.

I believe, Kady, I believe we are in un beau de fuck-up here

Truth was, she was scared too. But scared didnt profit you anything when it came to judges and courts, and shed said it to Salthe Fleet hadnt gone to all this trouble to invite them to a messhall brawl.

I believe in they hauled our asses a long, long way to haul Dek in out of the dark. That is a truly remarkable al-truism, Aboujib.

Des bugs.

Bien certain they would. Bien certain someones playing games. Dekkers mama lost her job. Does this rate news? Does this rate the peace movement lawyers giving interviews in front of the MarsCorp logo? Nyet. But there it was.

You think somebody made it up? Faked it?

Nyet. Peace movement, Aboujib. Peace movement is involved. Does not the antenna go up? Does not an old rab ask herself why and what if?

There was a spark of interest in Sals dark eye. The one that showed. Sal didnt say a thing, but: Rab is. The Corp is. Amen.

That chelovek in the suit, that lawyer? Thats a plastic. You mark.

Whys he with Dekkers mama?

Scary to think on. Truly scary. Sal looked at her, Sal as Belter as they came, and Shepherd; and how did you say the motherwells mind in Sals terms?

Think of helldeck. Think of all those preachers, them that want to save your soul. And they each got a different way.

Another snort. Crazies.

On Earth they got their right. Thats why they got it still on helldeck. On Earth you got a right to say and do. So they say and do. On Earth you can say a straight-line rock wont hit you. And maybe it wont. It might be too heavy. Might fall. You understand?

A straight-line rock was one thing to a Belter. Fall was a contradiction in terms. You didnt have rocks on station, where things fell. And fall didnt go straight-line. Thoughts and puzzlement chased through Sals expression, and rated a frown.

What I said. Crazy.

A rock might fall on its own before it hit you. You got to know its size to know.

Whyd it move?

Because some crazy threw it at you. Bare-handed. But it might fall first.

So. On station, natuerlich.

In the motherwell, everythings like that. Gravity and friction are always in the numbers. Not a lot of blue-skyers can figure those numbers. Things just happen because they happen and sometimes they dont happen and you dont know why, so you were lucky or you werent. You dont know. Very few can comp it. Ask a peacer what the answer is. Hell tell you its not war. Ask him how youll get no war. Hell say dont make one. Half the time it works. You got, however, to convert the other side to this idea. Ask a peacer how to make peace. Hell say, Dont fight. Half the time that works too.

Guy was going to beat hell out of Dek.

Yeah, well, this rab did have such a thought. And I sincerely wasnt going to sit and watch it.

So whyre the peacers paying for a lawyer for Dekkers mama?

Peace on Earths like that rock. You got to calc things you dont, in space. You got to ask, primarily, whose peace, whose way, how long? But Earthers dont, generally. Blue-skys used to not calcing all the factors.

Trez sloppy, Sal said.

The Corps dont like you to calc all the numbers. Neither do the helldeck preachers. Listen all you like, you sojer-boys with the bugs. You sleep down with the Corp, you get up with fleas. How goods your addition?

There is no excuse, Tanzer said, there is no mitigating circumstance except your personal decision to release Dekker from hospital without psychiatric evaluation, without appropriate procedures. The mans a fuse, lieutenant. You knew that. Or dont you read your personnel reports?

Graff didnt ask how Tanzer had. He said, patiently, standing in front of Tanzers desk: Dekker didnt do anything. He got up in a hurry and bumped a man he didnt even know

This is a finger you want on the trigger of the most sophisticated weapons system ever devised? Cant navigate from a chair in the messhall? Is that his problem?

Your news service released a story without a next-of notice. Was that deliberate?

Is it a death situation? I think not. Your boy cant tolerate a little stress? What in hell is he doing in this program? He blows and your whole side of the messhall comes out of the seats

Your man did the grabbing and the shoving. Dont try that one. It was simultaneous. There are too many witnesses.

Your witnesses were all in the middle of it. Your latest recruits were instigators. Is that what you call leadership? Is that what you call a cooperative relationship? Damned right, I dont put all the blame on Dekker, I dont blame the boy you dragged out of hospital and put into a high voltage situation, I blame the officer who made that boy a cause, which is damned well what youve done with your attitude and, for all I know, your direct statements to your command. You piled the pressure on that boy, you put those women in the middle of it, you set him up to draw firehe was guaranteed to blow the first time he got any load more than he had. So his mama lost her job, damned right his mama lost her jobshe was calling MarsCorp board members at two in the morning, threatening phone calls, you read me? Shes a spacecaselike mother, like son, if you want my opinion. Its congenital!

You have no basis for any such conclusion.

Havent I? Im telling you right now, right here, hes never getting back in a cockpit and you arent giving any more orders in a udc premise, not in the messhall, not the offices, not the classrooms, not the corridors or the hospital. Try that one, lieutenant. Take that one to your captain and see what he has to say.

He had no instructions how to play that one. He wasnt a lawyer. He didnt know whether Tanzer could legally do that. He wasnt in charge of policy. He didnt know whether he should use Fleet Security to guarantee access. It was down to that. The phone rangthank God for two extra seconds to think while Tanzer jabbed a button and growled an irritable, Im not to be disturbed.

Sir, the secretary said, on intercom, your line.

Unusual. Tanzer picked up the phone to listen in private and his expression smoothed out and went completely grim.

When? Tanzer asked; and: Any other information? And, Find out, dammit, however you have to.

After which Tanzer hung up, glowered at him and said, Get yourself and your crew up onto the carrier. Right now.

Incoming? A strike at Sol? Union missiles?

Tanzers fist slammed the desk. Get your ass out of this office, lieutenant, and get it the hell up to the carrier where youre supposed to be competent!

Incoming was no time to stand arguing, and arguing with Tanzer was no way to get information through the carriers systems; but if it was Union action there was no way he was going to make the carriers deck before criticality. Phone, he said, and reached for the one on the desk. The colonel made to stop him, and he held on to it with: Dammit, they need a go-order. Carrier-com, he told Tanzers secretary. Fast, after which the secretary muttered something and he heard the lighter, fainter sound of Fleet relays. This is Graff, he said the instant he had a click-in. Status.

J-G, Saitos voice came back faintly. Youre on a udc line.

Yes. Short and fast. Colonels office. It wasnt an incominghe knew that in the first heartbeat of Saitos remark about his whereabouts and he knew in that same second that udc was a codeword on its own. Saito said, calmly: Stand by, and the phone popped and went to com-noise.

This is FleetCom Command. ecs4 ETA at Sol Two 2 hours 3 minutes. Command of Sol Two facilities has passed to Fleet Command. udc personnel are being

The message went offline. Went on again. Somebody in the outer office had a nervous finger.

with Fleet personnel. This message will repeat on demand. Key FleetCom 48. Endit.

He looked at Tanzer, who didnt know. Who was worried, clearly. And mad. Tanzers secretary said, in his ear: Lt. Graff, this is Lt. Andrews. The colonel has an urgent message. Would you turn over the phone?

For you, he said, and passed the handset to Tanzer. Stood there watching Tanzers face go from red to white.

Number 4 carrier was incoming from Sol One, not at cap, but as much as they meant anyones optics to see at this stage. The captain?

Get a confirm on that, Tanzer said to whoever was on the line.

Tanzer wasnt looking at him. He could ease things or complicate mattershere in this office. He could end up with what had happened in the messhall played out on docksideat gunpoint, if he and Tanzer both wanted to be fools. He put on his blankest, most proper expressionwas very quiet when Tanzer finally hung up and looked at him.

I trust our messages were similar, he said, withhe hopednot a flicker of offense. May I suggest, sir, we present this to personnel in a quiet, positive manner. Id suggest a joint communique.

Tanzer didnt say anything for a moment. Then, with a palpable effort: Id suggest we keep this quiet until we can sort it out.

Colonel, I appreciate the difficulties involved. FleetCom is handling approach and docking. In the meanwhile my command has its own set of procedures, primarily involving dock access at this point. Id suggest we move your security into a secondary position and move ours into supervision of debarcation facilities.

Ive no authorization to do that. Youll wait, youll bloody wait!

Ill wait, he said, trying to add up in his head what all the Alpha and Beta Points on this station were, and what he could do to secure records without creating an incident he was virtually certain FleetCommand didnt want. On the other hand, that carrier will dock in a little less than two hours, by which time I have to have a secure perimeter, colonel, thats mandatory under our procedures.

Theyd done it at Mariner, theyd done it at Pell, and he had no doubt, now, that it was his mandate to secure that area here, as quietly and peacefully as possible. It was only now sinking in that a transfer of command had happened, but how it had happened, he had no idea. The thought even occurred to him that it might be a liea final, extravagant liethat maybe things had gone criticalon Earth or at the front, and they were pulling what they had, while they had it. That was what the whisper had been, always, that there might not be the time they needed to build the riderships or the full number of carriers; and then they could take their choicelet the Fleet die, let Earth fall, and lose themselves in space or in the motherwell, anonymous and helpless; or run with what they had, and gather the marines and the trainees they knew would be targets

And run and spend their lives running

Danger-sense had cut in, for whatever reason: his brain was suddenly doing what it did when hyperfocus was coming up, no reason, except Saitos evasion yesterday, and the colonels being caught completely by surprise. If negotiations had been underwayit was a shock to Tanzer, or Tanzer acted in a way that didnt make sense.

So he took a quiet leave, out through the anxious secretarys officehe stopped to say, Andrews, for your own sake, dont spread anything you may have heard,and saw nervousness pass to estimation and fear.

Into the corridors, thenfeeling the air currents, sampling the ambient. No panic in the clericals, nothing evident. The carrier had left Sol, presumably with notice to insystem defensesthen word had flashed via FleetCom, and presumably a udc message from some quarter had chased that transmission to the colonel. Maybe Saito and Demas hadnt known what was about to happen.

Or maybe they had. Maybe they always had.

He walked quietly to his office, he checked in on FleetCom and asked Saito again: Snowball, this is 7-All, status.

7-All, thats Longjohn, weve got a Code Six.

Stand down but stand by. And Longjohn wasnt any of their crew. Longjohn was Jean-Baptiste Baudree, Carina. Mazians Com Two. Thats a copy, he said; thinking: Damn. Whats he doing here? Its not the captain, then. What arent they saying? Status, he insisted; and got the information he next most wanted:

7-All, thats Jack.

Edmund Porey?

Lieutenant Edmund Porey?

He hung up and, with a pang of real regret, stopped trusting Saito and Demas.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 9
 ^ 
Lt.J-G Jurgen Albrecht Graff
SB/Admin
2152h JUN24/23; FGO-5-9
Command of Sol b has been transferred to Fleet Ops. You are hereby ordered to render all appropriate assistance,including securing of files and records, under direction of Comdr. Edmund Porey 
Commander. The hell!

And Jean-Baptiste? Mazians second-senior?

Thoughts ran down very scattered tracks since that message. Thoughts needed to, on an operational level: Tanzer was only marginally cooperative, communicating through his secretary, BaseCom was a steady stream of query and scant reply from the udc at Sol Oneone assumed: a great deal of it was going in code one assumed FleetCom couldnt breach.

Tanzer had been blindsided, that seemed evident. And maybe FleetOps had had to keep the junior officer in the far dark to carry it off, but it was evident, at least as best he could put matters together, that the business with the committee and the general had been a flanking actiontry to stir up some chaff, maybe throw a rock into the Sol One hearings. Who knew?

Certainly not the junior lieutenant. Possibly the Number Ones had. Certainly the captain hadand kept silent in spite of his repeated queries, which Saito of course had sent, the way hed ordered Saito to do

Damn and damn.

The deception shook him. You relied on a crew, you dumped all your personal chaff and trusted, that was what it came down to. You assumed, in throwing open everything you had, that you had some kind of reciprocity. Never mind the gray hair he didnt have. The Fleet could decide he was expendable. The Fleet could use him any way it had to. But they put you in charge, you made what you thought were rational decisions and if the people who were supposed to be carrying out your orders werent doing that, you trusted theyd at least trust you enough to tell youbefore you assumed you had a power you didnt, and put yourself and them into a no-win.

You did the best you could in a touchy situation and they promoted Edmund Porey two ranks in the last year?

God, what did the man do? The Captains had to know Porey. Had to. Were they blind?

But Nav Two on Carina had a good head for Strategic OperationsPorey was back and forth to the Belt, Porey was ferry-captain on the carriers as they moved in for finish, which made him currently one of the most experienced with the ships, and Porey was probably working tight-in with Outsystem and Insystem Surveillance: that had to be where he got the merits. Clever man. Clever man, Edmund Porey was, and, clearly now, command-track, which he himself would never be: hyperfocus and macrofocus werent the same thing

not by a system diameter they werent.

So Porey had the stuff. Clear now how desperately they needed a mind of Poreys essential qualities.

Clear now whose command he just might end up serving Helm for. The captain hadnt trusted him. So they brought Porey in over his head?

He didnt want to think about that. Instead, he arranged his priorities and issued his orders, trusting they were getting through. It gave him the same surreal feeling hed had writing his will, for the handful of personal possessions he did ownthat past the time those instructions were carried out, his personal existence was going to be very much different.

He had ordered the records secured. That first. There were a lot of extremely upset udc security personnel on the loose. There had very nearly been an armed stand-off. The udc ordered erasure on certain files, he was quite certain. He was equally certain he had been too late to prevent that, during the time of the stand-off and queries flying back and forth between his office and Tanzershe was sure udc security had done exactly what they should have done, and that he had not been able to prevent it (although outside of going hand to hand with udc personnel and cutting through a lock he didnt know what he could have done) would be written down for a failure on his part.

He had not let them throw the database into confusion. That was a plus. He had not lost the library tapes. That also.

He had ordered personnel in detention transferred; he had taken hospital and testing records under Fleet protection. He might order the release of detainees, but the disposition of those cases as a policy issue was not within his administrative discretion. He did not like the new commander. He, however, did not personally approve of creating administrative messes, which, counting his administrative style and Poreys, might be the worse for the difference. He advised the udc officers that all facilities were passing under Fleet administrative command, and personally phoned the udc provost marshal and udc Legal Affairs to be certain that all legal proceedings were frozen exactly where they were: no sense letting anything pass into record that need not.

Demas called, to say that the carrier was braking, directly after ceasing acceleration. Demas said that there was a contingent of marines aboard needing gravitied accommodations.

I copy that. Whats the head count?

Two thousand.

That was a carriers full troop complement. They wanted miracles. He called Tanzer, he listened to the shouting, he calmly requested invention, and ordered an emergency galley set up in an idle SolCorp module, ordered its power-up, ordered an Intellitron communications center linked in as FleetCom relay for the marine officers, ordered the Fleet gym given over to troop exercise, the Fleet exercise schedule combined with the udc , on alternate days; located every class-4 storage can in Sol-2, shifted all class-4 storage to low-g and ordered station ops to consolidate the remainder and clear section D-2 for set-up as habitation. Sol-2 civil Ops bitched and moaned about access-critical supplies.

I assure you, he said coldly and courteously, I appreciate the difficulty. But human beings have priority over galley supplies That is a problem. I suggest then you move your dispenser equipment to 3-deck to handle it. There are bottles and carts available Then get them from maintenance, or well order them. Im sure you can solve that

Meanwhile, the thin nervous voice of approach control tracked the carriers braking, in a tone that said approach control wasnt used to these velocities. Inner system wasnt a place merchanters ever moved at anything like that v. Merchanters drifted into the mothersystem at a sedate, mind-numbing leisure, sir, while bored techs and mechanics did whatever repair theyd had on backlistdays and days of it, because the mothersystem with all its traffic had regulations, and a starship, which necessarily violated standard lanes, made mothersystem lawyers very anxious. The mothersystem was a dirty system. The mothersystem had a lot of critical real estate, the mothersystem had never accurately figured the astronomical chances of collision, and the Earth Company had made astronomically irritating regulations. Which they now saw Exceptioned. That was the word for it. Exceptioned, for military ships under courier or combat conditions.

The ecs4 wasnt even at hard stretch. But station was anxious. If braking utterly failed (astronomically unlikely) that carrier would pass, probably, fifty meters in the clear. But tell them that in the corridors, where the rumor was, Security informed him, that the carrier was aimed straight at them.

Porey, the bastard, might shave that to 25 meters, only because he hated Earth system. But Porey never said that in outside hearing.

Porey had other traits. But leave those aside. Porey was a strategist and a good one, and that, apparently, was the priority here. Not whether Edmund Porey gave a damn about the command hed been given. Not whether he had any business commanding here, over these particular mindsets.

The Shepherds were his crews, dammit, down to the last two women the captain or someone had finagled in here.

Fingers hesitated over a keypad.

The captain. Or someone. Anyone in Sol System must have known more than he had. What in hell was going on?

He had a call from Mitch Mitchell on the wait list. He returned it only to ask, Where are you?

Sir? Mitch asked. Whats going on? Whats

He said, Where are you?

Mitch said, Your office in two minutes.

You dont read, Mitch. Where?

Coffee machine in one.

Not that long to work a carrier into dock, not the way theyd learned it in the Beyond, especially when it was a tube link and a straight grapple to a mast. The carrier used its own docking crewmarines, who simply moved the regular staff aside. More and more of them. A familiar face or two: Graff recognized them, if he couldnt place them. Carina dockers. Mazians own crew. A lot of these must be.

Lynch, the sergeant-major identified himself, close-clipped, gray-haired, with no ship patch on his khaki and gray uniform, but Graff recalled the face. He returned the salute, took the report and signed it for transmission of station Secure condition.

More of them were coming off the lift. Sgt.-major, he said, with a misgiving nod in that direction. Weve had a delicate situation. Kindly dont antagonize the udc personnel. Weve got a cooperation going that should make your job easier.

The commander said take the posts. We take em, sir.

He frowned at the sergeant-major. Darkly. Kept his hands locked behind him, so the white knuckles didnt show. You also have to live here, Sgt.-major. Possibly for a long while. Kindly dont disturb the transition we have in progress. That also is an order.

A colder face. A moment of silence. Estimation, maybe. Yes, sir, Lynch said. Carina man for certain. Dangerous man. Close to Mazian. Lynch moved off, shouted orders to a corporal.

Steps rang in unison. Breath steamed in the air in front of the lift. Marines were headed for the communications offices, the administrative offices, the lifesupport facilities, simultaneously.

The lift let out again. Armored Security and a scowling, close-clipped black man in a blue dress jacket.

Graff stood his ground and made his own bet whether Porey would salute or put out a hand.

It was the hand. Graff took it and said, Commander.

Lieutenant. Good to see you. He might have been remarking on the ambient temperature. I take it the report is in our banks.

It should be. I take it you heard about the interservice incident. We have personnel in the brig

The colonels office, Porey said, shortly, and motioned him curtly to come along.

Quiet in the cell block, deathly quiet for a while. Then someone yelled: Hey, Pauli.

Yeah?

You know that five you owe me?

Yeah?

Cancel it. You got that sumbitch.

That sumbitch is in here! another voice yelled. That sumbitch is going to whip you good, Basrami!

Yeah, you got a big chance of doing that, Charlie-boy. How was dessert?

Your guy cant navigate an aisle! Whats he good for, him and his fe-male pi-luts? Couple of Belter whores, what I hear

Dekker stood at the bars, white-knuckled, Ben could see it from where he sat. From down the aisle Megs high, clear voice. You a pi-lut, cher, or a mouth?

You come in here to save Dekkers ass? Beds what youre for, honey. Its where you better stay.

Ben winced. Megs voice:

Fuck yourself, Charlie-boy, but dont fuck with me. What are you, a tech or a pilot?

Pilot, baby, and you better stay to rock-picking. Youre out of your league.

Chorus of derision from one side of the cell-block. Shouts from the other. Dekker hit the cross-bar with his fist, muscle standing hard in his jaw, and from down the row, Meg shouted:

You got a bet, Charlie-boy.

Wasnt any way she wouldnt take a challenge like that. Her and Sal. Ben felt his gut in a knot, saw Dekker lean his head against the bars, not saying anything, that was the danger signal in Dekker. And somebody down the row yelled,

Hey, Dekker! You hearing this?

Shouting over the top of it. Dekker had to answer, had to, way the rules worked, and Ben held his breath and crawled off the bunk, not sure what he was going to do if Dekker blew.

Dekker? You hear?

Man couldnt talk. Ben added those numbers fast, yelled out: Hes ignoring you, mouth! Youre boring.

Funny he had a lot to say when Chad bought it! That right, Dekker? That right?

Ben shoved his arm, not hard. Dekker was frozen. Hard as ice. Staring into nothing. Other guys were yelling. Something hit the middle of the aisle and rattled to a stop. And Dekker looked like a guy hit in the gut, wasnt saying anything, wasnt defending himself, was letting others do it. Another shove wasnt going to push him into thinking. God only what it might do. He had the look of a man on the edge of cracking and Ben didnt know what to do with him, he didnt know how to answer the catcalls and the shouting that was going on, he hoped to hell for the mps to come in and break it up. Wasnt any more from Meg. He could hear Sals voice in the middle of it, but he had a desperate feeling he was in a cell with half a problem and Sal had the other half

Hey, Custard Charlie, somebody yelled. You want to run the sims full hours? Take you on.

That was a hit. Belters tagged you and you stayed tagged until you burned it offand then it could come back years later.

Take you on, take Dekker and his women on, any day, any daywhat about it, Dekker? You got a voice, pretty-boy? Wheres your ladies?

Ladies included one udc shave-head in the mix, Ben figured, but he wasnt going to get into it, wasnt his business, wasnt going to win a thing.

But Dekker came alive then, shouting, We got enough of that Attitude, mister, we got too damn many dead with that Attitude. I liked Chad, you hear me, you son of a bitch? I liked him all right, it was your own co set him up. Dekkers voice cracked. He wasnt doing highly well right now, but at least the jaw had come unwired. He hit his fist on the bars, turned around and said to the ceiling or the walls, Ben didnt think it was to him, God, theyre making me crazytheyre trying to make me crazy.

Wouldnt touch that line, Ben told himself, and held his breath, just stood out of the way while Dekker walked the length of the cell and back.

Hey, Dekker, another voice yelled. You son of a bitch, was that your mama on the news?

Shit. Dekker was at the bars and that knot was back in his jaw. You want to discuss it? Is that Sook?

No way, another voice yelled out. Sooks not guilty. That was J. Bob.

Catcalls went one way and the other. Shouting racketed up and down the hall, until starting with the far end, it got suddenly quiet. Quiet traveled. Ben leaned against the bars and tried to see what was going on, and all he could make out was udc uniforms and mps.

Thats better, someone said. Keep it quiet. Fleet personnel are being released

A cheer went up.

to Fleet Security, for your own officers to sort out. Youll file outside, youll give the officers your full name, your serial number, your rank, in that order. Youll be checked out and checked off

Where do I go? Ben muttered, suddenly with the notion he didnt necessarily want to go into a pool of udc detainees with a grudge. Shit, where do I go?

You go with me, Dekker said. Youre in our barracks, you go with me.

Doors had started opening. You could hear the clicks and the guys moving out.

Their door clicked. Dekker shoved it and they both walked out. Walked down the hall toward the mps and it was only udc guys left in the cells on the right, staring at them. Theyre not going to let me out, Ben kept thinking, theyre not going to let me out of here

Wrong flock, arent you? an mp asked him; but the other said, Thats all right, thats Pollard.

It wasnt highly all right. Hell if it was. He was all but shaking when they got through the doors and out of the cell block, into the outer hall where sure enough, a couple of Fleet Security officers were waiting with a checklist. Dekker, Dekker muttered, Paul F and didnt get further than that before the senior officer said,

Dekker, go with the man.You Pollard?

Ben nodded. Saw one of the Security officers motion Dekker toward another set of doors, saw Dekker look at him and had this panicked sudden notion that if he let Dekker off alone something stupid was bound to happenKeu and the lieutenant had tagged him with Dekker, and the only way to ensure Dekker didnt drag him into worse trouble was to stay with him. Excuse me, he said, but I have orders to keep an eye on himlieutenants orders Highest card he knew.

But the guy said, You have the commanders orders to go to your barracks and stay put until further notice. The lieutenants not in command now. Comdr. Porey is.

He must have done a take. He felt his heart stop and start. Commander Porey?

Follow orders, mister. This whole stations under the commanders orders. The udc s commands been set aside.

He wasnt the only one in the area now. Mason and Pauli had shown up under escort. Hot damn, Mason said.

But Ben thought, with a sinking feeling, Oh, my God

Graff was extremely glad he didnt have to hear what happened inside what had, until an hour ago, been his office. Occasional words came through the closed door, while he stood outside in the hall with Tanzers aide Andrews, neither of them looking at each other, with mps and Fleet Security at their respective ends of the corridor.

It was not a happy situation. He didnt like Tanzer. But he felt only discomfort in seeing the man finally walk out of the office white-lipped and red-faced. Tanzer swept up Andrews and walked back the way he had come,with, as Graff understood Poreys intentions, no transfer out of here, no resignation accepted, and a hardcopy of an order from Geneva that in effect put Edmund Porey in charge of Tanzers office and Tanzers program.

He still didnt know how it had happened, or what might have shifted in the halls of power, as the captain would put it. He hadnt talked to Demas or Saito in any informality, hadnt exchanged anything with them but ops messages as they coordinated internal security with the marine details and Poreys own Fleet Security force.

And not a word even yet from the captain. Which might be because he didnt rate one in their list of priorities. But which left him wondering againwhat wasnt perhaps wise to wonder.

Since Porey had issued no request for him, since Andrews and Tanzer were gone, he walked down to the intersection of corridors and to the messhall, only observing the temper of things. There were very few out and about, but Security, and aides.

Tone down the dress, hed advised Mitch. Between you and me; but pass it onthings are going to shift. Minimum flash. Minimum noise for the next few days. Observe this man before you make any push at him. Do you read me? Im not supposed to be telling you this. If it gets out that I did, it will be to my damage. Do you understand me?

Longest solemn silence hed ever gotten out of Mitch. Then Mitch had tried to ask him specificswho is this guy? What in hellexcuse me, lieutenant,but what in hells going on with the program?

Apparently, hed thought to himself, politics of a very disturbing bent. But hed said to Mitch, I dont know yet. Its a wait-see. For all of us.

He went to the messhall, as the most likely place to find anyone out of pocket, anyone who had missed the barracks order, or thought he was the universal exceptionan attitude more likely with Belters than with udc or merchanters, and he was resolved none of his trainees was going to get swept up by Security

None of his had met Poreys idea of Security. None of his own Security people got nervous at a joke. Ease off, theyd say. Thats enough. Theyd call the Belter in question by name or nickname, like as not, and get a generally good-natured compliance

Not now. Not with these men, not with Lynch. He didnt know where theyd pulled this particular batch of marines in from, but they didnt have the look of basic trainingFleet Command had pulled something in from the initial set-up squads, hed bet on it, though hed have to get into Fleet Records to find out, but these werent eighteen-year-olds, they werent green and they sized up an officer they didnt know before they even thought about following his orders

Merchanters, maybe. But serving as line troopswhen the Fleet needed every skilled spacer they could recruit? His stomach was upset. He carded a soft drink out of the machine and spotted a pair of marines at the administrative entrance, the galley office. What did they think, the cooks were going to take the cutlery to the corridors?

Exactly why those guards were standing there. Damned right. Tell it to Porey that the guys werent going to go for the knives. Tell it to Lynch. A sight too much real combat readiness and over-reaction in the ambient, thank you. A sight too much readiness in these troopers for any feeling that things were safe or under control.

J-G.

Demas. Behind him. He took a breath and a drink, and disconnected expression from his face before he turned around. Were on standby, he said, disapproving Demas leaving the ship unofficered, before he so much as realized they werent the primary ship at station any longer; Demas said, Longjohns on. Weve got a while.

He nodded, tried to think of somewhere pressing to go, or something else he had to do, rather than discuss the situation with Nav One.

You all right, Helm?

As if he were a child. Or a friend.

Im tired, he said, which might cover his mood; but it sounded too much like a whimper. He didnt like that. He didnt like Demas conning him. He said, point-blank: How much of this did you know?

Demas face went very sober, very quickly. It took a moment before he said, Not who.

He hadnt expected honesty. He hadnt expected that answer. So Demas wasnt happy with the new co either. And Demas was indisputably the captains man. That came clear of a sudden.

He asked, under the noise of the heat pumps, When did this get arranged? and watched Demas avoid his eyes. Or look anxiously toward the marineswho might have Security audio, he realized that of a sudden. Damn, he wasnt thinking in terms of hostile action, it was their own damned side, for Gods sake. But Demas was clearly thinking about it.

And Demas was the captains man.

Demas said, in a low, low voice, The Company pulled every string it had, in every congress on the planet. You want to go out to the ship, J-G?

Of a sudden he had a totally paranoid notion, that Demas and Saito might be reeling him in for good, getting him where he couldnt get into troublewhere he couldnt cause trouble. Arrest? he asked himself.Have I done that badlyor been that completely a fool?

Hear this the com said suddenly. This station and all station facilities, civilian and military, have passed under Fleet Tactical Operations, by action of the Joint Legislative Committee. Military command has been transferred as of 1400h this date to the ranking Fleet Officer.

Let me introduce myself. I am Comdr. Edmund Porey. I am not pursuing the interservice incident that marred the stations record this afternoon. I am releasing all personnel from detention with a reprimand for conduct unbecoming 

The glove first.

 but let me serve notice that that is the only amnesty I will ever issue in this command. There are no excuses for failure and there is no award for half-right. If you want to kill yourselves, use a gun, not a multibillion dollar machine. If you want to fight hand to hand, we can ship you where you can do that. And if you want to meet hell, gentlemen, break one of my rules and you will find it in my office.

Senior officers of both services meet at 2100 hours in Briefing Room A. This facility is back on full schedules as of 0100 hours in the upcoming watch. Your officers will brief you at that time. Expect to do catch-up. If there are problems with this, report them through chain of command. This concludes the announcement.

He looked at Demas, saw misgiving. Saw worry.

He thought about that request to go up to the ship, and said, Nav, I understand these people. Ive worked with them. You understand? I dont want any mistake here.

Demas looked at him a long momentfrowned, maybe reading him, maybe thinking over his options, under whatever orders he had, from the captain, fromGod only knew.

J-G, Demas started to say. But there were the guards, who might well be miked. Demas put a hand on his arm, urged him toward the door, toward the corridor, and there wasnt an office to go back to, unless he could get one through Poreys staff. Demas hand stayed on his arm. He had a half-drunk cup in his other hand. He finished it, shoved it in the nearest receptacle as they passed.

Demas said, in a low voice, Helm, be careful. Squeezed his arm til fingers bit to the bone. Too much to lose here.

The Shepherdsll blow. One of thems going to end up his example. If you want to lose the program, Nav

Too much to lose, Demas repeated; and a man would be a fool to ignore that cryptic a warning. He let go a breath, walked with less resistance, but no more cheerfully; and after a moment Demas dropped his hand and trusted his arrestee to walk beside him.

Ens. Dekker, the man said, letting him into Graffs office. But it wasnt Graff at the desk. It was Porey, for Gods sakewith a commanders insignia. Didnt know how Porey was here, didnt know why it wasnt Graff standing there, but it was Fleet, it was brass and he saluted it, lacking other cues. Hed dealt with Porey before, had had a two minute interview with the man on the carrier coming out from the Belt and he didnt forget the feeling Porey had given him then; didnt find it different now. Like he was somehow interesting to a man whose attention you just didnt want.

Ens. Dekker, Porey said, with his flat, dark stare. How are you?

Fine, sir.

Thats good. Somehow nothing could register good in that deep, bone-reaching voice. Hear you had a run-in with the sims.

Yes, sir.

Long silence then, while Porey looked him up and down, with a skin-crawling slowness a man couldnt be comfortable with. Then: Bother you?

Im not anybodys target, sir.

And you lost your crew.

Yes, sir.

Hear they were good. Hear Wilhelmsen was.

Yes, sir.

So what are you?

Nerves recently shaken, shook. He didnt know what the answer was, now. He said, I want to fly. Sir.

What are you, Dekker?

Good. Sir.

Youre going back in that chair. Hear me? Youre going to go back in and youre going to forget what happened here. You want to fly?

Yes, sir.

Then you do that. You take that crew weve put together for you and you get back in that sim and you do it, do you hear me?

He wasnt thinking clearly. Nobody hed ever been in a room with gave him the claustrophobic feeling Porey did. He wanted this interview over. He wanted out of this office he wasnt up to this.

Do you hear me, Dekker?

Yes, sir, he said.

Then you go do that. I want results. You say youre the best. Then do it. Do you hear me?

Yes, sir, he said.

Youre dismissed.

Yes, sir, he said again, and then remembered Meg; and Ben; and Sal. But with another crew, sir, than the one Ive been given

The Fleets assembled the crew you have at cost and expense, Ens. Dekker. Were told theyre good. Well see it proved or well see it disprovedin the field.

Theyre not ready, sir. He shoved himself forward, leaned on the desk and stared Porey in the face. They havent had the year Ive had, theyre not up to this, they havent flown in a year at least

Porey said, Thats what the sims are for.

What are you after, a body count?

People didnt talk to Porey that way. He saw the slight surprise in Poreys eyes, and something else, something that chilled him before Porey said,

Im after whatever youve got. As much as youve got. Or you die. And your crew dies. Thats understood, isnt it? Were Test Systems here. And you test the systems. Do you want them to live? Then you dont question me, you do it, mister. Do you have that?

Its not reasonable!

Im not a reasonable man. Poreys eyes kept their hold. I never have been. I never take second best. Have you got it, Ens. Dekker? Or are you talk, and no show?

He trembled. No human being had ever made him do that, but he shook and he knew Porey could tell it.

We give you everything you ask for, Dekker. Now you do what you say you can do, you pull the Hellburner out. You do it. Dont give me excuses. I dont hear them. Am I ever going to hear your excuses?

No, sir.

Youre meat, til you prove otherwise. Prove it. Or die. I dont personally care, Dekker.

He couldnt get his breath. He couldnt think, he wanted to strangle Porey so bad. He choked on it. Finally: Yes, sir. I copy that clear. Am I dismissed,sir? Because you fucking need me, dont you, sir?

Porey kept staring at him. Looked him up and down. Said, Arent you the bitch, Dekker? and finally made a backhanded move that meant Get out. Dismissed.

He took it, saluted, turned and walked out, oxygen-short, still on an adrenaline burn, and shaking, while he was still remembering Porey from the ship, remembering that Graff had said even then: Dont get close to him.

Then he hadnt been able to figure whether Graff had meant that literally or figuratively, but he had a sinking feeling hed just made a move that amused Poreyin the sense of defying Poreys expectations. That was an intelligent manmaybe the most intelligent man hed ever met; maybe too intelligent to mind who lived and who died. He believed what Porey had saidhe believed lives didnt matter in there, lives didnt matter in this station at the moment, law didnt matter

Guards fell in with him, the same that had brought him there. He hadnt even any notion where they were taking him, but they escorted him to the main corridor and told him go to barracks, everybody was confined to barracks.

Deserted corridor. Deserted conference rooms. Guards posted line of sight along the curvature. The vacancy of the corridors was surreal. The echoes of his own steps racketed crazily in his ears. The downside of the adrenaline surge left him dizzy and chilled.

Another several turns, more empty corridors. Guards at the barracks section door asked for his id. Dekker, he said, and pulled his card from his pocket, turned it over numbly, all the rush chilled out of him. Off duty. Just out of detention.

The soldier guards said go through. He went, through the corridor into a barracks main-room crowded with people he knew, people he liked, guys who grabbed his arm and wished him well. He thought,

If you only knew what Ive done to you

And almost lost everything when Meg got through the crowd and flung her arms around him. Cheers and catcalls from the company, egging her on for a kiss he didnt shy away from, but all at once he was leaning on Meg, not certain which way was up. Dark was around him, that hazed back to light and the faces

You all right? someone asked him, and he tried to say he was. Guy belongs in bed, somebody else said, but he said no, and they shoved him at a chair and told him the galley was sending food to barracks and in the meanwhile things had to be better, they were under Fleet control, they were trying to straighten out the duty roster and figure who was on what tomorrow

Meg hauled a chair up facing his, grabbed his hands and made him look at her.

Dek. You tracking, cher?

Yeah, he said. He wanted a phone, he wantedhe didnt know now whether he could cope with the news station or his mother. He kept hearing echoes, like the sim room. Someone saying, Enjoy the ride, Dekker. But the voice never had any tone. It drowned in the echoes.

He kept seeing the accident sequence on the tape. Not threatening, just a problem. He kept thinking about his mother, the apartment, the dock at R2. He kept seeing mission control, and a silent fireball. And the dizzy prospect down the core, all lines gone to a vanishing point. Fire pattern in the sims. Intersecting colors. Green lines. Track, and firepoints. He shook his head and took account of the room again, guys he ought to love, if he had it left. But maybe he was like Porey. Maybe he didnt have it, or never had had. More comfortable not to have it. More comfortable to love the patterns more than people. Patterns didnt die. They just evaporated. People went with so much more violence

God, hes spaced. Get him on his feet.

Were going to fly with this moonbeam? Arm came around him, hauled him for his feet, and he didnt resist it. I tell you, I shouldve been in Stockholm, shouldve got my transferI hate this shit. Friends here. People he trusted. People hed betrayed in there with Porey, because hed been a damned fool.

Mans got to eat.

Somebody ought to call the meds.

No meds. Hed had enough. He walked. He got to his room. He hit the bed.

Didnt search the room, he thought he heard Meg say. Didnt mess up the drawers, I mean, these mps are politer than Company cops.

Peut-et theyre just neater, Sal said; and Ben:

There wasnt a search.

How do you? Sal started to ask. And said: Silly question. Trez dim of me.

Electronics and flash-scan assured privacy, even against fiber and remotes. Security swore so. Graff could feel secure in this cubbyhole next the carriers bridge, if he could trust present company.

Ask Demas and Saito who they belonged to? Theyd sayCaptain Keu. Of course. Saito would say it without a flicker. One preferred to hope and reason that was the case, rather than ask a pointless question.

Tanzers actually dispatched a resignation, Saito said, apropos of the situation within the station, but it came back negative out of Geneva. That means the udc wants him where he is. Which could be show of opposition: they could replace him three days from now. Or they want him where he is because he knows where the records are and whats in them, which could be useful to them here. They lost a big one. Forces inside the jlc lost a big one.

We didnt know, Demas put in, doubtless reading minds, when it would shift. That it mightone hoped.

He considered a question, shot a sidelong glance at Demas and asked pointblank: And Porey? Where does he fit?

Demas broke eye contact, just momentarily. Saitos face was absolutely informationless.

Saito said, then, Porey is highly successful.

At what? Anger betrayed him into that bluntness, anger and the memory of dealing with them differently. At covering his trail, evidently. If they were Poreys or about to be, he was laying a firetrack in his own path, he knew he was, but he had his personal limit of tolerance. And he disturbed them. Even Saito flinched, looked down, saying:

Some things are excused, as long as the results are evident. Some patterns of behavior simply do not come through in social context

Other things, Demas said with unexpected harshness, are blindly ignored. The captain is head of Strategic Operations. The captain is too valuable to assign back to Hellburner, so says the ec. Porey is available. He could be promoted into qualification. That is what happened, J-G, plain and simple.

He looked at Demas, saw fire-flags left and right of this conversation and knew he could self-destruct here. He took a chance on thema last chance. Who wanted him? Who?

promoted him? Who does promote by executive order these days?

Mazian. Who wasnt the best of the militia captains: Keu was; or Kreshov, maybe. But Mazian was the promoter, Mazian was the one who could smile his way through corporate and legislative doorways, Mazian could say things the way they needed to be said

The Earth Company, Saito said, has SolCorp, Luna-Corp, astex, all space-based entities. But it also has its hands deep into the whole EuroTrust industrial complexBauerkraftwerke, Staatentek the list is extensivethat have very good reasons to want extension of their facilities outside the reach of pressure groups and watch-committeesmeaning, into space. Those Earth-based companies give the ec an enormous influence inside the Joint Legislative Committee. The citizen pressure groups are enormously naive, usually single-issue. They think they move events. But in general the jlc is riddled with influence-trading, purchase decisions made on relationships, not quality

Ancient terrestrial lifeform, Demas said. Dinosaur. Vast body. Little brain. It flourished in an age of abundant food supply.

Ive heard the word, Graff said.

Not to overwhelm you with local history, Saito said, but the udc is a composite creature that never did function well. The Earth Company created us to oppose Cyteens secession; but it never imagined a splinter colony could raise a population base of Unions size and it never imagined the light barrier would fall so quickly.

More, Demas said, it didnt understand the shipbuilding capacity of an enemy with no social debt. Ships cost Union nothing but sunlight, ultimately. Do you want more facilities? Create more workers.

But now the ec understands, Saito said, at least enough to frighten them. The special interests understand enough to see their interests are threatened. Now everybody wants to manage the crisis. Everybody wants to safeguard their power base. Everybody believes theres fault, but its most certainly someone elses. The free-traders are making headway.

Union-run merchanters, Graff muttered. Long wed last. And theyd be nothing to Union but a supply source. Cyteen manage Earth? Thered be short patience.

Possibly theyd founder of bewilderment.But that is the truth, J-G: the Company brought us here because Earth doesnt believe in star-travelers unless it sees us: and its own problems absorb its attention. The ec needed the demonstrable presence, the face and the voice to make the outside real to these people. And whether theyve believed their own myth, or simply view Mazian as manageablehes gotten far more important than we planned.

He was listening to sedition. To conspiracy. The captains had sent Mazian downworld, theyd chosen their spokesmanwho excelled mostly at salving over wounded egos, at getting the captains to make unified decisions. It was merchanter command structure: Mazian was only the Fleets Com One

Theyre putting him in single command, Demas said.

God. He didnt believe it. He couldnt believe it. But Demas went on:

The ec stamps his personnel choices as a matter of course. Yes, he does the things that have to be done. But hes not following the rules we laid down.

Hellburner has all but foundered, Saito said, on citizen groups that fear the ec, whove insisted the udc do what it doesnt have the personnel to do

Theyve run us out of time, Demas said. So now, now the ec steps in and gets us the power to do somethingbut its Mazian they give it to. The captains still sitting at Sol One with a mess on his hands, the whole udc administrative system suddenly shoved inside our operations, but

We begged him, Saito said, to break with Mazian, to repudiate his personnel assignments, catch the commercial back here and take command of the carrier, the hell with Mazians reputation with the ec.

His heart was beating faster and faster. He was sure what he was hearing, and surmised what must have been passing, God, on FleetCom

But the captain wont do it, Demas said, wont expose dissent among the captains. Not now, he says: with Earth, appearances and public belief are everything. If we dont get the riders and the rest of the carriers funded in this legislative session, were back to the spooks and the rimrunners.

He was still reeling from the first shock. Nerves wanted to hype and he tried to hold it. What in hell did the captain want me to do here? Was I supposed to foul it up so badly hed have to take it over?Or is Porey what I won us?

That rump session of the committee wasnt supposed to come here, Saito said. You handled it as well as it could have been handled. You were sincere. You were indignant. You were the epitome of the Fleets integrity and professionalism. You didnt know anything to the contrary.

So now weve got Mazians hand-picked command here? Mazians put Edmund Porey over a program thats already self-destructing? Have you worked with this man? I have. I was in the Belt with him.

Were extremely concerned, Demas said. Were concerned about those carriers out in the Belt, and at Mars, that have yet to have officers assigned. Yes, theyll bring in our people. But fifteen of the captains will be udc. That was the deal that was cut.

His stomach turned over. A second time. Youre serious.

That is the deal. Fifteen of the carrierswith Earth-born command.

Who do they have?

Saito made a ripple of her fingers. Theyll have a selection process. Earth believes in processes.

Thats fifteen dead shipsfirst time they take them past Viking.

J-G, this is the crash course on truth in this venue. Mazian projects well. As a strategist hes even competent. But thank God for the Keus and the Kreshovs. Theyll keep us alive. They may even keep Mazian alive.

Ive got akid on the verge of insanity, he was about to protest, when he recalled he didnt have anything, he didnt have a command, so far as he knew. Dekkers not going to work well with Porey. Dekkers the best weve got. Mitch is not going to work well with Porey. Hes the next. Were going to lose this program.

No, were not, Demas said. Poreys in command of the program. Poreys put you in charge of personnel.

Me? Where did you hear this?

Say it went through channels.

Did he do the picking? Or was my selection

Compromise. Though in Mazians view I think youre to keep us in line, Saito said. Technically, we equal his rank. But were not command personnel. Were not designated as such, by the captain. Consequently the captain can recall us at will and Porey cant take us under his commandor get us assigned to that carrier. Im afraid that isnt your case.

Were concerned for that, Saito said. But theres nothing we can do, but advise, where our perspective is of use.

He was glad hed not had time for supper. He thought he might lose it, if that were the case.

All personnel?

All flight and technical associated with the program. Tanzers still there, of course, but hes promoted sideways, still in charge of r&d, but Hellburners being lifted out of r&d

Into what?

Fleet Ops. The parts manufacturers and the yards are being given a go-ahead, on a promise of funds tied to test success. Theyre pushing this ship for production, were funded for one carriers full complement, but no further; and the plain fact is, were out of time. Latest projection iswere going to see the first carrier-rider system in the field in six, seven months. Theirs or ours. Naturally we have our preference.

What in hell are they asking me to do with these people?

Mazian sets the priorities. Porey carries them out. You keep the crews sane.

You mean I promise them anything. Have I got a shred of authority to carry it out?

For the second time, Demas evaded eye contact. Id say its more than we can do. But, no, in effect, you dont.

Is he asleep? Ben asked quietlymade a trip to the bathroom while Sal was drowsing and stopped for a look-see. Dekker looked skuzzed, thoroughly, face down in the pillows. Meg was using his reader, scanning through Dekkers manualsthere was a lot of study going on in the barracks, over cold dead hamburgers and breaded fish. The smell out there could gag you. And the atmosphere was crazed. Guys glad they were going to fly this thingthe pilots and the lunatic lead techs who made up the core crew.

He should have counted, he told himself. Hed been a numbers man. He should have added itand panicked when the number of him and Dekker and Meg and Sal tallied four, same as the other core crew units out there.

Hes out, Meg said. Cold. Thank God. Mans seriously needing his sleep.

He came and sank down on the edge of the other bunk, said, ever so quietly, You like this guy?

Meg shrugged. You never got unequivocal out of her or Sal. But she was here. Shed risked her neck and her license for him. Partner, yeah. But Meg didnt do things for one reason, or even two. A solid part of it was in that datacard, was in the way Meg looked right now, sharp and serious and On as hed ever seen her.

He didnt say what hed sat down to say: Flunk that damn test. He slid a glance at Dekker and back and said, You know, you better carry a pocket wrench.

Any Belter knew what a wrench was for, on helldeck. Megs mouth quirked.

The cos crazy, he said very quietly. I flew out here with that guy.

So did we.

That where they got him? Belt garrison?

She shook her head. Whispered, That carrier came in from deep. We dunno where. All the time we were on there, we saw crew, never but once saw him.

Whatd you think?

Meg frowned. Didnt like the signals.

He said, under his breath. We got a serious warning. Dont know what that guys problem is, but it is. We saw him far more than once. Just watching us. The body language. He wants his space, he wants yours. Smiles and laughs but he doesnt smile, you know what I mean? He watched Dek real close. Dek didnt like him.

Grounds?

Just that. He didnt think the place was bugged. Events hadnt proven it and it was too egocentric to think Poreys security had made a straight line to their quarters. But he got uneasy with the topic. He said, Helldeck radar, maybe. Guys youd insist do the eva, if it was the two of you in a miner can, you know what I mean?

Meg got real dead grim. Ask Sal about that kind. And then bit her lip like shed said too much of Sals business. Yeah. Same signals. You ever ship with Sammy Wynn?

Awful thought. Guy with some serious personality faults, that wouldnt get better on a long, lonely haul. I wouldnt share a bar table with Sammy Wynn. Whatever happened to him?

Spaced by now, I hope. She stopped and looked aside as Dekker turned over and buried his head in a pillow. Time to go, Ben decided, before they woke Ens. Moonbeam. He stood up, stood still til he knew Dekker wasnt going to wake up.

You going to take the Aptitudes? Meg asked him. Sore spot, that. Yeah, he admitted. And went back into the room with Sal. He had signed the assignment roster out there. He hadnt intended to tell them. But what had happened here, with the udc co busted out of command, himself being caught behind a Fleet Security wall he didnt give a real thought to a transfer right now. He could test into something administrative. Damned sure the Fleet wouldnt want him going back under the udc curtain with what hed witnessed here, if by any means they could finagle hanging on to himand it certainly looked as if they had the clout. He didnt have the instincts or the nerves for combat, hed proved that before, and that was bound to show. Drugged you down, they did, even for the basic test. Hooked you up to a machine and read your responses and your answers. You couldnt fake this one. They said.

He passed the door back into his room, sat down on the bed carefully, so as not to wake Sal. Low light, scatter of braids on the pillows, innocent-as-a-babe profile with parted lips, slight snub nosedammit, the conniving kid was his partner, he liked being with her, hed found a piece of himself clicked back into place when shed come walking into the barracksand being without her again was a dreary thought. He earnestly, honestly liked Sal; and Meg; which hed never said about anybody but Morrie Bird; and God help him, he could even get acclimated to Dekker, or just plain nerve-dead.

Fact was, skuz as this whole place was, somehow the echo and the racket and the coming and going in the barracks fit him like an old sockfact was, he liked the racket and the activity and the accent hed grown up with echoing off the bulkheads. Pressure here was from fools higher-up, different than tis carpeted, high-voltage corridors, where competition was cut-throat and constant.

But this wasnt any damn mining run this group was prepping for. At ti your highest chance of fatal injury was sticking your finger in a power socket or oding on caffeine. Here

God, they werent even sure the damn ship would work. Rumor out in the hall was that they were going max v with the program and they still hadnt proved any crew could run it oncelet alone fly it in combat.

That was crazy. And he wasnteven if insanity got the rest of them.

Salgo out there and turn herself into a missile? Sal and Meg end up in a fireball? Hell if, if he could stop it. But he didnt know how to; couldnt stop Meg, damn the woman, if Dekker couldnt. And if Meg went, Sal went, and if Sal went

Oh, hell, he was not a fool. There were women in Stockholm. Thered be a way to get down there, even through Fleet Commandif he just got Aptituded into strategic technical.

Stockholm women wouldnt ask stupid questions like Whats the Belt? Theyd have university degrees and stand and watch the tide come in and the snow fall and think it was all damned ordinary.

Hell. Bloody hell with women. Dekker was saner. At least Dekker knew what he wanted.


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Chapter 10
 ^ 
Insert card please, the neutral voice said. The phone clicked. Dekker held the receiver and waited. And waited. Meg and Ben and Sal were in Testing. His day didnt start until 1015, when he had an appointment with Evaluations. Which meant he could go to the gym to try to settle his breakfast and his nerves; or try a phone call, see if he could get a personal call through to Sol One, on FleetCom, in spite of the security crackdown.

Ens. Dekker. Human voice this time. Is this an official call?

Im trying to call my mother. He hated to sound like a strayed six-year-old. Mother always felt strange to him. Mama hed long outgrown, though it came naturally to Belter ears. Its a next-of. There was something on the news.Look, can you put me through to Lt. Graff? He knows the situation.

Im not being obstructionist, Ens. Dekker. Im aware of your situation, but I am required to get an authorization for personal calls.

God, everyone in the solar system knew his business. Yeah, well, can you do anything, FleetCom? The lieutenants not outstanding easy to find this morning.

Ill page him.

Everybodys paged him, Dekker muttered. Ill card in every little bit. Im going down to gym 3A.

Im sorry. That gym is now off limits to Fleet personnel. Use the one on 3-deck, section 2.

How do I get my clothes out of the locker in 1A?

Check with the office on 3-deck.

Everything was on its ear. Thanks, he said glumly, and went four sections and took a lift init was about as much exercise as he wanted, just walking it. But one thing hed learned in his tour in the Belt, if you could crawl to the gym, you crawled there and worked out; and if you got the spooks or the nervesyou went there and burned the chill off, you didnt let your mind go in loopsnever let that start, not when you worked in cold, dark places, with things that went bang all too commonly.

The office there had his gym clothes, everything in sacks with old locker numbers. They had his name on the gym records. They had lockers already assigned to him and his crew

He hadnt had a run of things that worked in weeks. It gave him a moment of ridiculous cheerfulness. He had the whole gym to himself for the hour, everybody else being in sims or in special briefingshe wasnt fondly looking forward to his own session with the meds upcoming. Warm up the sore spots and go in there with the adrenaline burned out of him, was the planlunch on carbohydrates and go into Evaluations at 1300 warmed-up and hyped, and blow hell out of their damn tests he could do it. The doctors had kept him flat on his back too long, hed dropped five kilos on the hospital food, and Custard Charlie Tyson had gotten a couple of good hits in, but he could do it if he could get the chill out of his bones.

Light workout with the hand weights raised a sweat. Coordination was shot. That wasnt good. He leaned on his knees a moment, trying to get his wind back and the rubbery feeling out of his arms, getting madder and madder at the meds, at the udc , at the Fleet that had busted Graff over to a desk job and put in a bastard with an Attitude

Temper wasnt helpful. Demas would say that. Calm down, Dekker. Use your head. Adrenalines for speed, not stomach acid.

Yeah. But it didnt help when the knees wanted to cave in, when you had serious worries about three fools whod gotten themselves into a Situation for his sake, and had a co whod flat warned him he didnt give a damn for their survival

Stomach acid, hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Porey, that was why he was shivering. And if he did that, with all the esoteric consequences to people he knew and didnt know, it wouldnt stop bastards from being bastards, and wouldnt get Porey out of here, hed only make it worse.

He didnt want to be in this situation. He didnt want to be anybody anyone else relied on for anything: he was schitz as hell. He was crazy. Ben knew it. He didnt see why Fleet Command couldnt see it. He didnt know why hed ever been made an issue, or put where theyd put him, except the Shepherds had needed somebody crazier than they were to press their differences with the insystemersand people who wouldnt have given a damn about him back in the Belt, found a use for him here. He wasnt Paul Dekker to them: he was this to one group and that to another and nobody really knew shit about him

Hi, Dek, good to see you, Dek, how you doing? He couldnt stand it any morebecause Ben was right, they didnt know him, didnt know he was a screw-up, a damn dumb pusher-jock who didnt think before he opened his mouth. Only value he had to anyone, the fact that his nerves jumped faster than average. Only thing he was good at, that shipthat was all that had mattered to him; Pete and Elly and Falcone had had themselves, and theyd gone togetherthe Fleet had thrown them together, theyd tested high, that was all. And they were good and theyd worked together, but he was burned out this morning, he didnt even know whether hed ever felt anything with them but comfort, and that was cheap

He didnt know why Ben had decided to take the damn test this morning. Ben had skuzzed out on him. If Ben had held out, Ben might have persuaded Sal and Sal might have reasoned with Meg

Like hell. He hadnt seduced Meg out here. At least Meg and Sal werent his fault. The ship had done that. Some lying bastard in the Fleet had done that, whod told Meg theyd give her a chance

Yeah. A chance. Thanks.

Drug made you seriously spaced. You had sensor spots patched all over you, in places that made a body most emphatically wonder if it was procedure or the femme tech having a few loose circuits of her own

Do it where? she remembered asking. But the examiner, that was a guy, nice-looking grayheaded man, asked her to match up all these shapes and holesGod, she hadnt done this one in years. Im not good at this, she said. I dont fly little cubes.

Neither did he, he said. At least he had a sense of humor. So she ran the test and she tracked on discrimination stuff that flashed on screens, they moved her to another station and belted her in and the computer spun her around and aroundeasy piece, nothing hard at all. Til the floor dropped out from under her and then the thing went through its paces.

Wanted you to draw a straight line? Right.

Wanted you to get up and walk one?

Yeah. Maybe.

Sit in the spin chair again. Wait for the light and press the button while the chair spins?

Siren blast. Right before the light flash.

Dirty trick, sumbitch. Dirty trick. Flash again. Flash, flash. Pause. Flash.

Hold the yoke and the toggles, make the vr lines meet? This was a good one. Hadnt done this one before

Weight escaped his balance and bounced. Dekker ended up on one knee, caught a breath and waited for the room to stop spinning before he went to pick it up and rack it and lock it in. Good show he was going to make for the meds in an hour. He drew long breaths, sat down and felt after the towel to mop his face.

Stars came out of a vast dark. Lights on the panel glowed with information

It was in his head, the same as, in the Belt, you got to seeing rocks in your sleep, not rocks as they existed in the deep dark, but the way they were in the charts, the courses they ran, falling sunward, faster and faster, and then more and more slowly outward

He wiped the sweat that stung his eyes. He heard somebody come in, challenged at the office for numbers and names. Yeah, he heard someone say, far away and a door shut

Echo. Door opening and closing. Hed seen a shape. Hed talked to someone. But he couldnt remember to whom. He chased the memory. But the voice that came back lacked all tone:

Just checking. Do what you were doing

Who in hell would he take that answer from?

Piece of nonsense. He could screw this test. They wanted him to discriminate a damn lot of advancing lines and dots? Easier if the sensors didnt itch.

He muttered, Quick way to solve this. Who programmed this?

Examiner said, Dont talk.

This is a piece of shit, major. Begging pardon. Zap. Damn arcade game.

Watch that one.

This is fuckin armscomp! Im not testing for this

Zap.

Youre not damn bad, lieutenant But youre not real modest, either.

Im damned good. But Im not killing things.

You have a moral objection?

He put hands and eyes on autopilot and left them to search for screen-generated threats. At definable intervals. Random number generator in the virtuals, for Gods sake. I got a moral objection. I got a moral objection to getting shot at.

Exactly what were looking for.

He thought about that reasoning. He thought about screwing the test, while he was zapping stupid dots. Faster now. Screw it, you severely got a pattern in here.

Ive been telling them that.

Tell you something. Zap. Im supposed to be in Stockholm. Somebody skuzzed my records. Zap. Matched me up with a lunatic. Zap. Zap-zap-zap. Oh, hell.

See? Not all a pattern. You missed that one. Getting cocky, were you?

Faster now. Son of a bitch, he said.

You have two hands, two keysets. Brain can do both operations. Hands can. How good are you?

Damned moonbeam partner of mine, he muttered. You give me programming. Im telling youanywhere else is a waste Zap. I dont want combat.I know what this mothers doing

Zap/zap/zap

Hand on the other pad. Interrupt to Command level and invoke the chaos o/i off the internal generators. Obsolete as a security device, but certainly an improvement on this antique.

Resume. Let them figure that one. Let their techs come in and patch it if they didnt like it.

Where did you get that code?

Telepathy, he said. Sir. I told you. I belong in Stockholm.

Watch the lights, track the dot, do you have any blurring of vision, Mr. Dekker?

Have you had any headaches?

Stand here, stand there, look at the light, bend over, Mr. Dekker

He escaped with a grudging Release on his card and an admonition to take his mineral supplements, got to a phone outside the med station and put the card in to check the readout for messages. Lunch, he thought, might bring people to check their messages. Might get a phone call, however muzzy, from Meg, telling him how she was doing.

None from Graff; none from Meg or Ben or Sal. No authorizations. Just a reminder of his appointment in Evaluations.

And a note from the gym that he hadnt carded in his preferred time slot and was he interested in team volleyball?

Hell.

Marine guards at every intersection. Corridors everywhere had a decided chill. God, there were even guards in the messhall

He started in, saw Mitch and Pauli and the guys at the tables and they saw him.

Upset him. He couldnt say why. He walked by for politeness sakeSit down, they said, offering him a chair. But he couldnt face lunch of a sudden, in this placetoo many faces in the room, too many people trying to be friendly who didnt know all that was going on with him, and the guards and the udc watching him from the other end of the room. He muttered, No, Im on medicals right now, just time for a soft drink, thanks.

Got anything back on the tests?

Wasnt a thing stirred in C-Barracks but what everybody was in it. No. Not yet. He patted the back of Mitchs chair and made his escape to the rec-area foyer, where he could card a soft drink and a granola bar that tasted like cardboard and hit his stomach like lead.

They probably were talking about him back there. And he couldnt talk to them, couldnt deal with them until he knew what he was, whether he was going to clear the tests himself, whether his partners were passing theirshe wasnt anyone, until he knew who he was working with, what he was, where hed be, what theyd assign him to

Fly again, yeah. Porey would see to that. Front of the line-up. Or the bottomat Poreys discretion. Hed opened his damned mouth, hed forgotten for a critical second he had partners who could be in danger from what he did or promised

Couple of udc guys came over and carded a candy bar. Names were Price and McCain. Techs. They hardly even looked at him, but he was sweating. He kept thinking, If Id kept my mouth shut, if Id done what the colonel wanted, if Id only once ducked my head and played the games

Tray banged somewhere. The room felt cold. His mother had said, Paul, what is it with you? Why do you always end up in the middle of it?

He wished to God he knew that. He wished to God he could go over there with the other guys and sit down and be what they wanted him to be, but he couldnt even tell them what hed done or what he was waiting to find out

Please God, theyd Aptitude somewhere down the list, somewhere out of immediate usefulness, and he could go maybe to Chads crew, patch things up with them, he couldnt think of a match-up else he could make that might have a chance. He should have offered that to Porey, Porey wasnt crazyhe didnt want to lose another ship, for Gods sake: Porey probably would have called it a good ideagood for morale, pull the program together, udc and Fleet.

He should still propose that to Poreytalk to Chads guys himself in advance, if he could get them to talk to him

God, why couldnt he think about people? He was all right with machines, all right with anything that reacted in just one way when you touched ithe could understand that. He just

couldnt figure how to stop himself before he said things. When he opened his mouth it was wrong, when he didnt say anything it was wrong, he never got it figured out, some people just understood him and most didnt, and the ones that did were always in trouble because of the ones that didnt. Sum of his life, that. Evaluations said he was smart. So why couldnt he get that right? Like go in there and apologize to Porey and take what he had coming?

Because when he walked up against a guy like that something went snap inside, he went hype and he couldnt think, that was the whole damn problem

So calm down, dont do that?

It was why the Fleet had recruited him, it was what they trained him to do, split-second, hyped and half crazy, and they wouldnt understand he didnt come with an off switch

Except maybe Graff understood. But Graff wasnt answering pages today

Damn him.

A little hyped. They said, You can relax now. But there wasnt any sleep. Just the boards, alive with lights. Hands knew where to go and went there. Hell of a way to teach. But they said, This is a sim tape. Familiarization. It wont prioritize for you. Just give you the handedness of the boards

Got it, yeah. No trouble.

Dont fight the sims, Kady. You want to bring that pulse down.

Yeah. Im not fighting it. Happy as hell. God. I want this thing, dont want to screw it upGod, I dont want to screw it

Calm.

Yeah, yeah. So dont get excited, Kady, dont go after it, ride with it, just float and enjoy it

Lot better, lot better, Kady. Howre you doing?

She laughed. Laughed like an idiot.

You all right there? You know what youre doing?

Her hands were reaching. She wasnt doing it. But she didnt object. The sequence made complete sense. Jawohl, mate, piece of easy, there.

Clumsy direction, then. Her hand shook. Shit!

Boards went dark. Direction stopped. She grabbed for the b-panel and the fuse conditions, and the examiner said, Abort, abort, its all right.

What did I do? Her heart was going half light. The drug made her light-headed and she hated the sensation.

Tape error. Not yours. Relax.

Made her mad. They had no right to screw up. But you didnt get mad while you were at the boards, you paid attention. All attention. Save mad for later.

Ms. Kady. New voice. That was a system abort. Dont worry about it. You can stand down.

Thank you. Cold and calm. Same as you did when something went seriously wrong. She flipped the board-standby switch. Habit. Fool, she thought. It was a toy-board anyway.

Thank you. Another delay. You can get up. Go to the room with the red light showing. You are in .9 gravity.

I think I can remember that, she muttered.

Some dont.

Thanks. Anger was the immediate reaction. She was embarrassed to beg; but, putting her foot off the platform: Do I get another try on that abort?

A hesitation. Somebody had blanked a mike. Then: How are you feeling?

Good enough for another try. Self-disgust. If I can get one.

Get back in the chair, then.

Thank God. She was all but shaking. And damped that down. Fast.

Pulse is up, Ms. Kady.

Yeah. Re-start.

Hyped as hell, came a mutter from the earplug. Faint. Then at normal volume: The yoke is an automated assist. It is changing its responses. Do you perceive that?

Yeah. Absolute relief. They hadnt told her the sim could do that. But I got my own numbers. Lets shorten this. What are you, imat?

imat or cset. a or b, select your format, input your actual license level.

No problem. She took b, ran her numbers in, hoping she remembered them, hoping she was still that sharp, and watched the readout for response profiles. Shit! Excuse. 12.489 sudden gs on a tenth of the yoke range. She cut it back, re-calced in her head, thinking she could have a seriously pissed examiner if she dithered too long, but dammit, she needed the fine control on that hairline correction in the sims and you had to have it wide enough if they threw you an emergency. Hell of a thrust this sim was set fordifferent than shuttle controls by a long way

Forgot to ask if time counted. Too late to spare a neuron. You did it right, that was all, you did it real, hell with them set the controls to your own touch and take the time it took, they should have effin said if there were criticalities not on the instrumentsit was a new kind of adaptive assist, piece of nice, this was All kinds of interlocks and analyses it could give you. Mining in the Belt, you adapted your jerry-built and most egregiously not ai ship by whittling a new part out of plastic, and what you saw on your boards was a whole lot of hard-to-read instruments, not an integrated 360 v-hud with the course plot and attitudes marked in glowing lines. This thing was trying to find out your preferences, arguing with you when its preconceptions thought it knew you. But it would listen.Damn it, machine, soyez douce, dont get cheek with me used one of these things ten plus years ago, she had, but, God, that had been an antique, against this piece

All right. She calmed her breathing rate. Panel lights lit. Scopes lit. Go!

Numbers hemorrhaged. God!

Nothing yet? Dekker asked the desk on his mid-test break; and the secretary in Testing said, No, sir. No result yet.

Are they out yet? Have they left?

I dont think so, sir.

He tried FleetCom. He had a new comtech and had to explain everything again. I just want to know if the lieutenants ever checked in.

Hes in a meeting, FleetCom said.

Has he gotten his messages?

I think he has. Excuse me

On hold again, when all he wanted to do was hang up; and he didnt want to offend FleetCom by doing that before the tech got back to him. He wished he hadnt called. Five minute break from his own Evaluations, it was 1456 by the clock, the granola bar and soft drink were wearing extremely thin, and he was regretting it. If he could get off the phone, he could get down the hall to the vending machines.

No word on his partners. Aptitudes was a five hour session. You could take a little longer coming out from under the trank if you reacted

God, he didnt know what to

Ens. Dekker? Sorry to keep you waiting. I did get hold of the lieutenant. He says see him in his office at 1400. Thats 21a, Admin.

Im in Evaluations til 1700. Im in the middle of tests

Excuse me

Hell!

He put a hand over his eyes, he leaned against the counter and waited. Looked pleadingly at the secretary across the desk, then. Do they ever take this long on Aptitudes?

I dont know, sir. Ive only worked here for four

Ens. Dekker? Im sorry the lieutenant says he cant talk at 1700, hes got another meeting.

Will he clear a phone call for me to One? Thats all I want.

I think he wants to talk to you about that.

Shit. Look He shut out the light and the secretarys presence with the palm of his hand. Tried to think. But he kept seeing fireballs. Hearing that door clank. Is that all he wants? The phone call? Or does he wantlook, can I talk to him online? Two minutes.

Hes in a meeting, sir. Just a moment.

He was late by now, by two minutes. You werent late in Evaluations. You didnt antagonize the examiners. Who were udc to begin with.

The lieutenant says he needs to talk to you. He says at 2200.

2200. Graff didnt plan to sleep, maybe. Right. Thanks. Yeah. Ill be there.

My partners arent out of Test yet, Dekker said. They went in at 0600. Its 2202 and Testing doesnt answer questions

Theyre all right, Graff said, quietly, from the other side of the desk. I can tell you that much.

So what do you know?

That theyre being very thorough.

Theyre not reacting to the drug or anything

No. Theyre all right. I did check.

It wasnt regulation. He wasnt convinced. He wasnt at all convinced.

Graff said: On the other matter

I just want to call my mother. Make sure shes all right. He kept his frustration to himself. He didnt want to push Graff. He was running short of friendlies in Admin.

Graff said, I got your message. I understand. Theres a good possibility her phone calls are being monitored by the police. Possibly by someone less official.

Who?

All we know, Graff said, is the same thing you saw in the news. Were investigating. I could wish this lawyer werent involvedpersonally. Is your mother a member, a contributorof that organization?

I dont know. I dont think so.Are you asking me her politics?

You dont have to answer that.

She hasnt got any politics that I know of. She didnt when I lived there. I dont think she would change.

She was never politically active. Never expressed any opinions, for or against the government, or the Earth Company?

Bit by bit the line of questioning made him uneasy. It wasnt like Graffat least as he knew Graffto probe after private information. He didnt think it was necessarily Graffs ideaand that meant whoever was investigating. So he offered a bit of his own reasons: I was rab when I was a kid, the clothes, the haircutKady says I was a stupid plastic, and I guess I was; but I thought I was real. I used the words. My mothergot hot about it, said politics was all the same, didnt matter what party, all crooked, she didnt want any part of it told me I was a fool for getting involved. Theyd shot these people down on Earth. I think

Meg was there, he almost said. But that was more than Graff needed to hearif a deep spacer cared about the Company, and Earthers trying to emigrate

Think what? Graff asked.

He couldnt remember his thread for a moment. He shrugged. Doesnt matter. Shes just not the kind. Works a full shift, mostly over, if you want extras you have to do thatand that was all she wanted. A nice place. Maybe a station share. Security. That kind of thing. You wouldnt get her involved in anything.

You know the Civil Liberty Association?

No, sir. I never heard of them.

Theyre the ones funding your mothers lawyer. Theyre headquartered in Munich. They support lawsuits in certain causes, thats mostly what they do. Their board of advisers has some of the same associations as the Sun Party, the Peace Front, the Karl Leiden Foundationthe Party of Man

He shook his head. I dont know anything about them. I doubt she does.

Theyre Earth-based Internationals: of several related groups, only the Civil Liberty Association and the Human Research Foundation maintain offices off Earth. They apparently do each others business. So I understand. Im no expert in terrestrial affairs. But I thought you should know, this organization does have political overtones that arent friendly to the program or to the Fleet.

What do you want me to do?

I only thought you should be aware of the situation.

Deeper and deeper. He thought of saying, Im in no position to restrain her from anything. I cant do your politics for you. But it was all on their side and nothing on hers. And probably the lieutenant didnt want a blunt question, but it wouldnt be his first offense this week. So hasnt the Fleet strings it might pull?

Possibly.

So what do you want me to say to her?

Nothing. Nothing on that score. I just want you to be aware of these things.

Why? In case of what, for Gods sake?

Do you still want to call her? Graff shifted a glance toward the phone on his desk.

He had never believed of himself that he was smart, no matter what Evaluations told himif he was smart, he wouldnt be here now, put on the spot to make an excruciatingly personal phone call in front of a man hed thought he trusted, whose motives he didnt now entirely understand.

And, God, he didnt want to talk to her he was fast losing his nerve.

Do you want to do that?

Yes, sir, he said, before all of it evaporated. If you can get me through.

Graff took up the handset and punched in. FleetCom. Route this through our system, fso, Sol One.Number there?

97 2849. Dekker, Ingrid. Routing can find her. 2210 mainday and she ought to be home. She didnt have a nightlifeat least she hadnt had, when hed been living at home.

Takes a bit, Graff said, and gave him the handset. Its going through, now.

He held it to his ear. Listened to the clicks and the tones. His heart was beating fast. What in hell was he going to say? Hello, mother?

Click. Click-click. Beep.

Theres a noise on the line.

A beep?

 

He nodded.

Somebodys got it monitored. FleetComs picking that up.

Hell. It was going through. He listened for the pick-up. But the answering service came on instead. Ms. Dekker is out at the moment. Kindly leave your name and number

Youd know. Mother. Mother, this is Paul. Im sorry to hear about the trouble youre having It was hard to talk coherently to a machine, hard to think with that steady beep that meant the police or somebody else was listening. I dont know if I can help, but if you just want to talk, Im here. Id like to talk to you. Id like to help He wondered if he should mention money. But while he was thinking, it clicked off and connections broke, all the way back along the route, leaving him the sound of static.

She wasnt home, he said, and gave the handset back. I left a message on the machine.

Anything that comes throughyou will get. I promise you.

Thank you. Theyd taught him to say thank you. Please. Yes, sir. No, sir. Stand straight. Answer what youre asked. Theyd told him he wouldnt fly if he didnt. His mother hadnt had that advantage in dealing with him. He didnt remember hed ever said Yes, maam or Please or whatever boys were supposed to answer to their mothers. Fuck you, hed said once, in a fit of temper, the week shed bailed him out of juvenile court, and shed slapped his face.

Hed not hit her. Thank God, hed held it back, he hadnt hit her. Only respect hed ever shown her, that last year and if they shipped him out from herethe only respect he might ever have a chance to show, except that phone call.

Forgive me, the lieutenant said. I have to ask thisin your judgement, is it possibleis it remotely possible she did make threats against MarsCorp?

Ingrid Dekker wasnt a walkover. She wasnt going to stand and take itnot without handing it back. If they threatened her. But she wouldntwouldnt just take it into her head to do that, no, I dont believe that. I have to ask this

At whose orders sir

Are you close to your motherstill?

God. He didnt want to discuss it. But the lieutenant had been on his side, Graff if anybody was still his lifeline. He didnt want to put his mother in a bad light. She was the one in trouble and she needed all the credit she could get. He said, looking at a spot on the front of Graffs desk: I was a pain in the ass, sir. She said if I went to the Belt I didnt need to come back. Iwas sincerely a pain in the ass, sir. I was eighteen. I was in with a rough crowd.I was stupid.

Graff didnt say anything to that, except: Have you corresponded with her?

No, sir. He stared fixedly at that spot on the desk, wondering if they might search his room and bleed his datacard for it, next use he made. Maybe they already had. Not recently.Ive got about four, five k Id like to send over to her account. If I could do that. Shes not working, shes going to need the money.

Ill talk to Legal. See what the procedures are.As I said, were going to be looking into the case. If there are strings to be pulled, maybe we can pull them.

I appreciate that, sir.

Are you ready to get back to work?

Yes, sir.

Graff keyed something on the deskcomp. Glanced at it. I dont know if they can get your friends back to quarters this watch. But youre their unit commander, you have access there on any shift, if you want to check up on them.

Not back to quarters? Not in this watch? His heart did a tic and a speed-up. He looked at Graff, met a level, I-cant-tell-you kind of stare.

What are they doing? he asked Graff. Theyre in there for Aptitudesits a four-hour test, for Gods sake

You have access there.

Ive been over there. They wouldnt tell me a damn thing!

Graff had never been one to hold back information, not under Keu, and not under his own administration. Now

I suggest you go over there, Graff said. Thats all I can say.

Didnt like the damned drugs. Didnt effin like the floating feeling. Told you stuff you didnt want to hear. Told you youd effin die if you screwed it and Ben didnt want to die, he sincerely didnt want to die

Fire!

His heart took a jump, he felt neg g, he went spinning awayyou should feel blood pooling in your head and your feet and he didnt, didnt feel anything right except cold breeze on his face and his lungs getting air again

He could see light. Felt somebody holding his sleeve. He was flat on his back in g and Dekker was holding on to him, saying, Its all right, its all right, Ben

Wasnt who he wanted to wake up in the arms of. He stared at Dekker, with his heartbeat still thumping away like explosions, and recalled they were surrounded by dots all but six of which were trying to kill him

except he was in bed and Dekker wasnt flying the ship.

He took slow assessment of this fact. He took a look around the ceiling of a disgustingly barren room, recalled signing his name, and them telling him Sal was in, and him talking to the tech and screwing with the sim, because hed been mad as hell and wanting to get court-martialed and wanting to go to bed with Sal Aboujib if he had to get shot at to do itonly viewed backwards, as he had to see it now, that sequence didnt highly make sense.

Neither did Dekker sitting on his bedside. Hed come here to sit with Dekker. He wasnt in the hospital. He was in the sims lab and Dekker, with this scared look on his face, was holding him by the wrist.

Ben.

Yeah? He began to think hed better wake up.

Ben. You all right?

Dekker asking really worried him.

Dont agitate him, somebody else said. You know the rules.

Trying to give him a heart attack, whats the damn hurry?

There wasnt any answer. Dekker took hold of his hand. Said, Shit

Dekker holding his hand? Hed really rather not. Unless he was dying. He didnt feel like he was dying. He stared at Dekker, made his fingers bend and his hand draw back and decided in this moment of clarity that he wanted his foot on the floor.

Ben. Bendont do that.

Froze right there. Face down in the bend of Dekkers arm. And couldnt think how to get out of that situation.

Skuzzed, Dekker said. Light came back. Dekker swore at nothing in particular. That was all right. Saved him the bother.

Aboujib did pass, he wanted to know.

Yeah.

Meg?

Yeah. I got three of you. Same condition. With which Dekker got up and stalked out.

That was Dekker, all right. Boy had a lousy temper.

Shit! he heard from the hall.


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Chapter 11
 ^ 
2345h and all dekker wanted was his own bed, didnt want to talk to anybody, just skuzzed through the door into a darkened barracks, went straight to his quarters around the corner and down the corridor, and got undressed on autopilotwasnt even thinking clearly when he heard the stir outside. A knock came at his door and he stared at it and blinked.

Second knock. He thought, What in hell? and opened it, on Mitch and Pauli and Trace and God-only who else the shadows behind them were.

Want to talk to you, Mitch said, and Dekker leaned his forearm on the doorframe and reasoned that even if he could talk them into leaving him alone now, it was too late, the adrenaline he thought hed run out of was up again, sleep was gone, leaving just caffeine-ragged nerves and a body shaking with chill and exhaustion. Didnt have a shred of embarrassment left, Trace there and allhe just said hoarsely, What?

The rest of your guys didnt come in?

No.

Dek. Whats going on?

I dont know whats going on, I dont know any more than the rest of you guys. Struck him then, though, that a lot of the aforesaid guys had risen to his defense in the messhall, a couple of them had gone to hospital and a lot of them had suffered serious inconvenience on his accountso they had some right to knock on his door in the middle of his sleep and want a piece of his hide.

Mitch asked: Is it true theyre going to bust your guys right into active? Theyre going to put Pollard and Kady and Aboujib straight in?

Wasnt hiding any damn thing around here. Hed been trying to get the same admission out of Testing and he couldnt do it, or find out who the order came from that had shoved his crew straight out of Aptitudes into the board-simshe stared at Mitch a beat or two, muttered, Something like.

Something like. Theyre going to take Kadys hours for legit?

Mitch, I dont know what theyre taking for anything, nobodys told me a damn thing, I dont know what your source is, but its more than I know

So where are they right now?

In the labs sleeping it off. They started in at 0600 and they got through somewhere around 2200, thats all I know, except theyre Aptituded in, thats the only official word I have on anything. He got short. His temper was on the edge. But he hadnt reassured anybody. And maybe theyd heard something: he hadnt been in the rumor mill all day, hed been chasing around in places rumors didnt get toback and forth between offices and Evaluations. And rumor was evidently saying for fact what he suspected and couldnt get the labs or the techs to admit to

Shove them up into Mission Ready, with him?

God, Porey wouldnt do that. Poreyd said himself that he wouldnt lose another ship: the Fleet couldnt afford it. They werent going to do that They couldnt do that

Rumor is, Jamil said, the Fleet thinks your guys have the stuff, so theyre just going to go with them, put them right in on the pods

They cant do that, Dekker said. It came out a thin, helpless kind of voice. No way. They havent got ships to throw away on a notion like that

Rumor is, Mitch said, they were running some kind of new tape off Pete and the guys during the mission, rumor is the Fleet thinks they can take that tape and sub it for the whole damn training sequence

Legs nearly went out from under him.

Seems, Jamil said, they wanted crew that hadnt been biased by all this prior training

Shit, no He couldnt feel anything below the gut. He got a couple of breaths and managed to stay on his feet. This is shit, guys, I dont know where you got this, but this is shit. No way are they going to do that

Trace said, First we got Tanzer, now we got a guy thinks he can program us like computers?

Whered you hear this stuff?

In the slightly off chance, Mitch said, that were dealing with bugs, we decline to answer that in specific. But we thought youd like to know.

Shit He wasnt doing too well with words. His teeth started chattering. I got to talk to the lieutenant

Its Porey we have to make a dent in.

Good luck with that, Trace said.

We can not show up tomorrow. The whole lot of us.

Dekker shook his head, made a wave of his hand, suddenly struggling to get control of his jaw. N-no. This is a m-man m-makes ex-examples. Trust me that I kn-know.

God, the mans freezing, Trace said. Get him a sheet or something.

I kn-know what Im t-talking about. You dont pull a st-strikehell p-pick one of you Pauli got past him into his room. But he kept looking at Mitch. Guys a control freak. I m-met him. F-flew out here with him A blanket settled around him. He made a stiff, half-successful grab after it. But it did nothing for his chill. He let Pauli pull him back toward the bunk, while Mitch said, You guys go on. Lets get his door shut

Mitch stayed, and Pauli did, and Jamil and Trace. Dekker sat down on the bed, tucked the blanket around him. Mitch said: The mans making an example, all righthes going to kill you, you understand that? High team gets the next run. Thats us or thats you, Dek. You can kill yourself in sims, if one of those girls screws up.

They arent damn b-bad

Listen, Pollard may know what hes doing, Pollard had a background, but they hauled these girls in here for no other reason than they were with you in the action out there and theyre somewhat famous in the Belt. Theyve got no place in the program, Fleets listening to helldeck gossip, no solid background in hours

They survived.

Yeah, they survived whoring their way around helldeck. Thats what they did for a living, Dekker, I dont know if you heard, but thats the plain truth.

He didnt believe hed heard that. That was how it got as far as it did. Screw you, Mitch, you keep your opinions to yourself.

All right, all right, theyre friends of yours, Im sorry. But you came in there new. You ask Pollard where these girls got their credit. With him, with Morrie, with any ship they ever handled no bad karma for it, but they didnt make their keep with the runs they made

You stow it, Mitch. I worked with them.

You never flew with them. Never knew shit what they could do, and now because they were with you, they got a rep the Fleet takes for granted

They passed the Aptitudes, Mitch, the examiners shoved them right into the board sims, youre telling me any of us sailed through into the sims?

Hey. Maybe their brain-tape works. Maybe you can program human beings to act just like a robotjust like the damn ai they tried to hang over our heads. They dont build one, they make us one. But what happens under fire, Dek? What happens when the answer isnt in any damn tape, and those girls dont know it? Thats when its going to make a difference

Megs the coolest head under fire I ever saw. Meg saved our asses on R2, and you werent there, Mitch, you couldnt get to us, if you want me to bring that up

Well, you can thank God she caught a bullet, because if Meg Kady had been flying, she might have taken out the Hamilton. Dont blind yourself, Dek. She was a second-rate miner jock who got caught running contrabandshes got a helldeck rep and now theyre going to hype her and Aboujib and Pollard on some tekkie tape and put you head to head with us. I dont want to see you crack up. I dont want to see those girls hurt. I dont have a personal grudge against them, I just have a real gut reaction when I see somebody running totally on rep and getting somebody else fuckin killed, Dek, and sending this program down the out-chute.

Maybe well see, he said, set his jaw and looked elsewhere, because he didnt have anything left to say on the subject and he was too tired and too shaken to punch Mitch out. There were things he could say, like firstly, Where were you, Mitch, when we were depending on you? But he didnt honestly know that answer, hed been too charitable to ask; and he didnt want a war with Mitch.

Mitch is a mouth, he told himself, Mitch was born with an Attitudehe wouldnt deal with me, except Im the competition, and he has to take me seriously. Its Shepherd, thats all it isMegs insystemer and shes flash and they dont like her style, thats the problem

Jamil said, Dek, you have to protect yourself. I dont personally know whether Kady and Aboujib have got it, I think Pollard probably does, but not the way they need to have it now. The examiners didnt bust them through into the sims because theyre good, they busted them through because they were told to, thats the truth, Dek, and were worried, were worried for you, were worried for your crew, were worried for the reason that we signed up for this program in the first place, because were in the center of some serious games, herewe got congresses playing games with a ship we could fly if theyd get the hell off our backs and quit screwing with the way we work

We dont want to see you killed, Mitch said. We dont want to see anybody else killed. You better find out whats going on. You better find out what your crews capable ofbefore you put your lives on the line out there, thats what Im saying. The lieutenant hasnt got any power to do anything about anything right now. But he might tell you the truth and he might listen. And he might pass what he knows to the captainwho is the only authority we can think of who might pull the plug on this damned tape

Its what they use Unionside, Trace said. Thats where they got the tech. They dont even know what theyre doing with it, thats my guess, they just got it, they cant come up with a fix on the program, and now theyre going to try this, theyre going to make you the guinea pigs. Youve got to lay back, Dek. Lay back and lay out and dont try to take those guys realtime

Mitch took Jamils arm, hauled him to the door. Trace lingered, just stood there, the only female in the group, with, he suddenly uncharitably surmised, other intentions than argument.

Go on, he said, out.

Dek, I know theyre friends of yours, thats what

Trace. Get the hell out. Now. And turn out the lights.

She turned out the lights. She left. He fell back on the wreckage of the bedclothes and felt the cold hit his chest and stomachthought about getting up and putting the bed back in order, but he didnt, right now, have the fortitude. He just rolled over in the blanket and tried to fall unconscious, if sleep was out of reach; but images rolled over and over like riot behind his eyes, the argument with Meg about her flying, Graff sitting there and telling him Get over to Testing, Porey saying, Youre meat, until you prove otherwise But the sequencing of events didnt make sense. Theyd brought Meg and Sal here to wake him up, theyd had to start from the Belt directly after the accident, directly after he ended up in hospitaltheyd brought Ben from closer in and Ben had gotten here faster, that was all, but they must have started at the same time.

Theyd had the hearing, Graff had said, and theyd wanted him to testify. But he hadnt. And still Porey had come in to take the program over. And they had tapes. Tapes theyd made off Pete and Elly and Falcone on the mission, leading up to the wreck

Union tech, then, the same deep-drug tech that theyd sworn once they could beatbut the ship wasnt up to specs and the program was screwed and they had to keep their funding going, had to keep getting the ships built

So the Fleet had seized control and they had to have another pony show? They swore to somebody theyd get the program turned around and to do that they had to hold out some brand new tekkie trick that was going to win the war so they could get the money?

They wanted to try out the tech on unbiased crewand for that, they hauled in Meg and Sal clear from the Belt, pulled in Edmund Porey and a carrier, blasted away from Sol Station like a bat out of hell an hour after the riot in the messhall landed him and half the program in the brig?

Then Porey had wanted to talk to him, personally, when he hadnt, that he knew, talked to Mitch, or any of the other recruits in any private interview?

Porey knew himpersonally, at least insofar as theyd met during his trip out from the Belt in the first place; Porey had ferried him out from the Beltit wasnt impossible that Porey had had his hand on his career long before this maybe even suggested him for the program when they enlisted him: he had no idea, but Porey had been in a position to have done that. Maybe that was why the interview in the office, that had gone so badly; maybe Porey was justifiably angry that hed been in the center of controversy, when Porey had brought him here specifically to keep him out of media attention, because of the Salazar mess

Then his mother, devoutly noninvolved, got firedand went after MarsCorp; and peacer groups showed up with lawyers to back her suit?

He lay shivering in his bed, thinking, Why? on the frenetic edge of exhausted sleep. Everything looped back, as if he was the gravity well nothing could escape

There were so many things that didnt make sense. There were so many pieces of his life being gathered up and shakeneverything that went wrong from here to Pell seemed to have his name on it, in bright bold caps. Paul F. Dekker.

A guy couldnt have that kind of luck, no way in hell one stupid miner-jock could just chance to be where carriers moved and officers intervened

And Graff just happened to care so much he went to all the trouble to collect his friends to rescue him?

Like hell. Like hell, lieutenant, sir.

What was I going to say to him? Graff asked. Ask these people and they might give you what you want, but dammit, you dont deal with them like that.

Demas said, in this null-g unmonitored sanctuary in the heart of the carrier, Nothing you can do, J-G. No way to stop it even if youd known in advance. This was decided at much higher levels.

Did you know? What do you know?

Demas shook his head. I dont and I didnt. I would guess there was consultation. I would hope there was consultation of more than Porey with his own captain, but knowing what Mazian decides these days, I have some trepidation on that account. But who knows? Tape-tech works for Union.

Not at the cost, Graff said, and looked left at a sound that in no wise belonged in this place. Saito,

Medicinal, Saito said. The bottle Saito had just uncapped broke five regulations Graff could think of immediately: it was glass, it was private property in an ops area storage, it was liquid, it was alcoholic and it probably hadnt passed local customs.

It was, however, null-stopped, and Saito sailed it his direction. Youre not on call. Jean-Baptiste is on the line, were still on stand-down. You need your sleep and your morality wont let you. So join the rest of us and turn it in.

So where do you do that? Fleet hq? There must be a waiting line. It seems a damned busy traffic this year.

Theres nothing we can do. No help to the boy, ruining yourself. If we were attacked this instant youre worthless. Best you know it beyond a doubt.

He took a sip and made a face at the sting; and in the midst of his indignation, realized flavors still evolving on his tongue, an unfolding sensory sequence, the way Earthly flavors tended to donothing simple. Nothing exactly quantifiable. From instant to instant he liked and loathed the taste. He found it significant that the sensory overload could reach even through his present mood to say it was rich, it was expensive, it wasif you could synthesize itonly one of endless variations on which a whole trade flourishedfrom a gravity well in which Conrad Mazian had been sunk for weeks.

This place corrupts, he murmured. Its the motherwell of corruption. When did we forget what we came here to prevent?

Take another, J-G. Edmund Porey is in charge of the people in charge of the tape. He brought the tape, he brought the applications techs. Theyre officially Carina crew.

What are we fighting to keep away from? What in hell are we fighting to keep out of Sol System?

Demas caught the bottle that drifted from his hands, took a sip and sent it on to Saito, third leg of their drift-skewed triangle. Demas said, I earnestly recommend sleep, J-G. Perhaps a night of thorough debauchwe might manage that. Theres absolutely nothing else we can do.

We can help the boy. We can at least do something about his next-ofs situation.

Technically Ingrid Dekker is not, you know, next-of. Pollard is. Dekker explicitly took her out of that status

For her safety. He knows the situation. Thats why he didnt call on her.

Saito frowned, cradled the bottle in her arms. Ive been over and over the Dekker file. There is a remote possibility someone at Sol One leaked the story about Dekkers accident. The information was at Sol One via FleetCom and one can never assume there was no leak. One hopes not. But its remotely possible she might have found out, and she may have learned about Salazars proceedings against her son. She might have taken action of her ownbut there is that last, troubling letter from the mother to Dekkerin his file

In which she tells him not to communicate? But he disregarded it.

He doesnt know we monitor these things.

He should suspect.You think she may have attacked MarsCorp, in revenge for her son?

Difficult. Difficult case. Neither Cory Salazar nor Dekker had a father of recordnot an uncommon situation for Mars, much less so for Sol One. Sols still very tied to the motherwell. In all senses. Ingrid Dekker had a son. Had she named a father, tests would have established paternity. That man would have had financial and legal liabilityunder local law.

Possibility she didnt know?

Possibility she didnt know or didnt want to say. It would extend legal rights to the child. She took full financial responsibility. She had the childagain, her choice.

Graff frowned, revising attitudes. He had no idea who his own father was, but his mother had had a cheerful account of possibilities, all from one shipwho had not the least liability in the matter: not for him and not for his cousins of the same stopover. Who might even be half-sibs, but who cared?

Earth certainly did.

Mother, said Saito, has nothing to do with ship-loyalty. Not in the least. Unitary family. He grew up in a twoor three-room apartment alone with one woman. No sibs, no cousins, no other kinnot an abnormal situation. Not the local ideal either.

Claustrophobic, what he could feel about it. He watched Saito take a drink and sail the bottle back to him.

Dekker did not get on well in school, Saito said. Fell in with a group of young anti-socialsread, quasi-raband got caught vandalizing station lifesupporta series of smokebomb incidents, as happened. One might assume it was their idea of political statement.

A very stupid one. He had read the file, though not with Saitos interpretation. Sabotaging ones own lifesupport hardly qualified as intelligenceand Dekker was far brighter than that. Or should have been.

He got very little education. Its all classroom theory, there. Very little hands-on. Dekker doesnt learn by lecture. His episode with the court nearly had his mother fired and deported, for a minor out of control

On a merchanter ship, it would have had the youngster scheduled for a station-drop and a go-over by psychs. Possibly with mother or cousin in tow, but not absolutely. There was no use for such a case aboard

But Dekker was not insane. Quite remarkably sane, considering his upbringing. Graff took a sip and frowned, passing it on to Demas.

She spent her personal bank account on lawyers and bond for the boys behavior, Saito said. She enrolled him in vocational training. Electronics, her own profession. He ducked out of that and got a position pushing freight. Lied about his age. Made very little money, but he was out of trouble. He went back to schoolprobably found out he needed the math for a licenseand apparently became an upstanding citizen, though by this time he was in remedial in all his subjects

One brush with the rab. And no other troubles, he said, until the Belt.

Until he absconded with Alyce Salazars daughterwith whom hed been a correspondent since his return to school.

Mmmn, said Demas, the miraculous reform.

And no record there, Saito said, until Corys death. A model citizen. Solvent

On Ms. Salazars money.

But solvent. A hard worker. He had been on Sol before he left. Had, one suspects, a habit of pushing himself beyond the legal limits on his license

Certainly a talent, Graff murmured, thinking Why did no one at Sol ever Aptitude him?

With that score in social responsibility, I dont think anyone ever thought of tracking him for ops.

A mortal waste.

Earth has a million more who want the slot. They can afford human waste.

Dekkers a statistical anomaly.

Especially in that population. But they didnt recognize the profile. Sports or trouble, that was their analysis. And he was off the team very quickly. He wasnt physically adept, of course. And temper didnt serve him well. You do not frustrate that lad. But you know that.

Morbidly interesting, Graff thought, to know what a profile like his own might have meantin the motherwell. Pressure on the genome.

Demas muttered: Emory? Or Wallingsford?

And Saito: Dont we fight this war for that distinction?

Who knows why we fight? Because we stayed by the Company? But whats the Company? Not wise, nor representative of the motherwell. Nothing Ive met tells me that answer. Demas passed the bottle again, to Saito.

Graff asked, Can we help his mother? Weve civilians working in fso. Maybe she could be employed there.

Theres that peacer contact. She certainly wont pass our security clearance with that attachment.

The bottle came back to him.

Because shes naive and desperate, shes a security risk? She wouldnt have access to the fso lunch schedule.

Saito said: Being Dekkers kin and outside our wall is a security risk. And theres the vid. The Dekker affair may have died out of the mediabut watch them remember it now. Command will be extremely reluctant to solidify that association. The peacer connection

Our employing her could be an interesting embarrassment to their side.

And theres the claim of harassing Salazar.

A most uncomfortable thought occurred to him. You dont think Salazar could have hired Ms. Dekkers lawyer, to control both sides of the lawsuit?

Not legal, of courseto pay both sides legal help. That much is true even in Sol System.

Possible, though. Isnt it? Their system of exchange makes a private transaction hard to trace.

Oh, its even possible the peacer groups see Salazar as a way to their objectives; possible that the money is flowing to this conflict from the peace and the defense committees. Mars is relatively leftist, relatively isolationist. They see their interests remote from the ec as a whole. Pursue some of these groups deeply enough and you come out the door of their opposition.

Moebius finance, Demas said. These groups survive on fund-raising. Particularly their executives and staff. How could these people survive without each other?

Completely paranoid.

The enemy of my enemy, Demas said, and took the bottle up, threatens both our livelihoods. And of course the Fleet is innocent in this game. Earths parliaments and congresses understand Mazian. Mazian gains command of r&d. Of Sol Two. God, one wonders what traded hands.

Graff thought privately, and dared not say, even to them: Our integrity. Our command. Mazian was going to fill the captaincies with his choices

Porey among the first.

Fingers felt all right. Wasnt sure about the ownership of the hand, though. Schitzy experience, that was. Meg held her eye from blinking with one set of fingers and tried to apply the pencil without blinding herselfDek had been kind enough to make a supplies run from the quarters to the lab-dorm, only thing shed asked of him last night: Get our makeup, God, we got to look like hell

Dek was a skosh bizzed last night, she said to Sal, who was putting earrings in, stealing a bit of mirror past her shoulder. Dont you think?

Mans doing all right.

You?

You had to catch Sal like that, blindside. Sal met her eyes in the mirror, wide-open.

So, Aboujib?

Sal said, scowling, Scared as I hope to be, give me a damn field of Where-is-its? and a: Some of these things are rocks, Aboujib, and some of these things are missiles? I never memmed a field faster in my damn life

Pass?

Hey. I didnt have a heart attack.Kady, I got seriously to talk to you about your sojer lessons. Theyre severely real, these sumbitches.

She would have turned around. But mirrors was the best place to catch Sal. Truth, Aboujib. You want to go back to the Hamilton?

She saw the hesitation. The little nip of a lower lip. Without?

And had this moment with her heart up in her throat. Shed passed, dammit, theyd told her. Finally got a chance at a ship and a guy she got on with, and, dammitall, here was Sal pulling in the other direction, she saw it plain.

And it was a lot of hours with Sal, a lot of bad times and a lot of good, but on the other hand there was Dekthere was Dek, whoGod

Sals frown had gone. The lower lip rolled out in a rueful sulk. I dunno, Kady, I dunno how you talk me into these things.

Aboujib, come serious. You want to be back there.

I tell you what. I want, I seriously want, a little damn couple finesses on that simulation. They got no mem-check, theres not a damn interset macro in theremaybe they been getting this thing from Shepherd types. Ought to ask a freerunner about rocks, Kady, ought to ask us how not to go boom in a fire-track

Im not asking that.

Well, Im not the hell going back to the Hamilton. Leave you here with the guys? Frivolous. Deliberate. The mask was back and Aboujibs long eyes were half-lidded. I lay you bets, Kady. Flick of a nail against a large earring. Ben didnt flunk that mama. Not our Ben. Scare hell out of him the way they did meand they get a class A per-for-mance. So with this child. Miner nerves, here. Dont tell me fire-track. Theyre saying I got to set up the positional? Somebody else is going to have his finger on the fire-button? Shit-all. I want the guns, Kady.

Effin right I passed, Dek-boy. No question Id pass if I wanted to. Ap-ti-tuded, hell, they put me in armscomp, are you satisfied?

Dekker wasnt. He sincerely didnt want that. He watched Ben shaving in this dormitory the labs afforded their test subjects and kept his chilled hands in his pockets.

Sorry doesnt cover it. I know. But

Ben looked around at him. Youre worried, Dek-boy. Tell me why youre worried.

He wasnt sure he ought to say that eithersince Ben didnt know; since self-doubt was the deadliest creature you could take into the program. The program was full of egos. Bens was fairly healthy.

So whats the matter? Ben prodded him.

He had to say somethingbecause somebody would, back in barracks. Say the Fleet has this new programsay they came up with this tape stuff

You mean what they gave us wasnt reg?

He was supposed to be a fast thinker. He wasnt doing well this morning. Mute as a rock, he was.

Look, Moonbeam, what in hell are they up to? Gives a guy a real uneasy feeling, that look of yours, and youre the lousiest liar I know of.

Its supposed to work, thats all I know.

Ben gave him a long, suspicious stare.

All I know, Dekker said; and Ben said,

Hell if. Whats going on?

Nothing, he said. Nothing but they want results. Fast. And the heats on my tail. But it doesnt get to you guys. It doesnt.

Yeah? They put you in command, did they, of the whole friggin Fleet?

No. Porey said it. They dont want to lose another ship. And I swear to you,I wont lose another crew.


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Chapter 12
 ^ 
Glowing lines converged. Dekker blinked sweat and the simulator manufactured an uncharted rock on split second Imminent for the carrier.

Missed the bastard and redirect to take it out on the fly

Got it, got the beta target before the bloodflow caught up with his knees.

Targets coming.

Carrier showed up on the scope. That was the priorityyour carrier showed and you got the come-home, and you were done, far as you could clear it a path, granted you could get through the effect shield without glitching.

Soft and smoothyou got the slight buffet as you came through the shield, momentary los of everything on the boards and you had to know its v, the extent of those shields, how close you were going to be when you came through the envelopedamned close, damned close.

Touch. Slight mismatch. Within tolerance. Probe caught.

Mate.

Power down.

Good run, solid run. Not flashy, except that UO and making that shot. He could cut the sim, meltdown and unbelt, hed earned it and a hot shower. Fine control when youd been hyped was hell, and switch-off was the co-pilots job, if thered been a co-pilot this simhe wouldnt lose points on that. But he was a fussy sumbitch. He set his switches. He set every effin one.

Damn, it felt good. Felt solid.

Home again.

He shifted his legs as the pod opened and he could unbelt and drift out. Breath frosted, while sweat still ran under the flightsuit.

Take that in your stats, Tanzer.

Card game went on, Ben and Sal running up favor points on Almarshads and Mitchs guys, and the spectators drifted down there. Hey, Dek, came back, but Dekker tried to ignore it and concentrate on his math and his set-targets for tomorrows run.

Conversation floating back from the table said, Its one thing in sims. Live fires going to be something else.

You just hit em, Ben said, and took a card. Dots is dots.

No way, Wilson said. Ask Wilhelmsen.

They dont have to, Mitch said, and a chill ran through Dekkers bones. He was thinking what to say to shut that up when Meg said, acidly, Dunno a thing about Pete Fowler, mister. Nice guy, I spose, and I highly preciate his help, but hes not the one does the thinking.

Still not live fire, Kady.

Ease off, Dekker said, and shoved his chair back.

Hey, Mitch said. No offense.

Doesnt bother me, Meg said, and dealt out cards. Testosterones not the only asset going. Shepherds seriously got to rethink that.

Meg, Sal said.

Hey. Im easy.

You been easy, Kady.

Meg pursed her lips. You a virgin, Mitch? I swear I dont know.

Hold it, hold it, Ben said.

The programs making a serious mistake, Mitch said, putting you girls in here. Tape cant give you the wiring, Kady, theres a reason they never pulled women in on this program

Yeah, Meg said acidly. Look at the scores, Mitch.

Meg, Dekker said.

Tape off a real pi-lut, Kady.

That tore it. Mitch, Dekker said.

No, no, Meg said coolly, not a problem, Dek. Mans just upset.

Bitch.

Yo, Sal said.You want to match score and score Mitchell?

Just hold it, Dekker said into the rising mutter from Mitchs crew and Almarshads. We dont need this.

We dont need any damn tape, Mitch said, and we damn sure dont need any tape off any women. Reactions arent there. Youre never going to see a female pilot on this ship, Kady, you dont see em in the carriers, you dont see em in the riders, and youre never going to. Youll crack under fire, youre going to screw this whole damned program, on a rep you didnt earn.

Meg said, with a riffle of cards, Cher, you got a truly basic misconception, there. Ships arent shes, theyre hesyou got to make love to them the right way, got to keep em collected so you both get there

Laugh from some of the guys, thank God. Wasnt funny at the table. Mitch was pissed. Mitch was being a son of a bloody bitch, was what he was being, hurt feelings, and a mouth that made you want to knock him sideways.

But Mitch gathered up the cards Meg dealt. Youre in over your head, Kady.

Cher, I had a shuttle go dead once, lost a motor on lift, landed in the Seychelles, and that was a bitch. I havent sweated since.

Bullshit.

Yeah. Tell me yours.

Mitch glowered a moment, then laid down a card and said, Well-divers are fools.

You got that, Meg said. I resigned it.

Didnt resign it, Sal said. They threw you out.

Huh. I was getting tired of it. Too much same stuff. You seen Luna once, youve seen it. Big damn rock.

Smug bitch, Mitch said, in better humor. Dekker eased back and found himself shaking, he was so wound up. But Meg wasnt. Cold as ice, or she hadnt any nerves between her hands and her head. Couldnt tell she might want to knife Mitch Mitchell

But hed lay odds Mitch knew.

Damn, damn. You got a rhythm in this thing.

See those programs, see how that infodump selected for the human operator, and how it prioritiedthat, that was a serious question. Theyd had a problem like that in ti, putting a human into the supercomputer neural-net, without letting it take over infoselection. This one sampled the human needs as well as the environment and it wasnt doing all it could. The data behind it was flatline. He pushed it, and it gave him the same input.

Youre not supposed to critique it, Pollard. Just stick to the manuals.

Screw thebegging your pardon. But I worked on something like this. Staatentek program or independent?

Classified.

He bit his lip. Didnt raise the question of his clearance.

Just a minute, Pollard.

Just a minute was all right. He sat and stared at the screen that offered such interesting prospects: infodrop for the human decision and infocompression for the computer. Reality sampling against a chaos screen in a system Morrie Birds prize numbers man found achingly familiar, after a stint in tis securitied halls

Screw supply systems modeling, this thing talked to him with a familiar voice.

This isnt sim software, he thought. Main programs elegant. This is real, isnt it? Ignore the cheesy recorded randoms, son of a bitchthe system under this is a piece of work

He said, to the air, Staatentek didnt do this, did they?

No answer for a minute. Then a different voice: Pollard. Leave the programs alone.

You can feel the randoms. I didnt have to look for them.

A pause. Thats very good, Pollard. What would you suggest we do about it?

Obvious answer. To the obvious question. The Belt. The numbers. The charts. The feeling you got for the systemthe way the rocks moved. Real rocks, with the Well perturbing what the Sun ruled

 Shakespeare; and Bird

Ben, leave the damn charts

Pollard? What would you do?

Im sure you have, he said. Use Sol.

Or Pell. Or Viking. You havent met Tripoint, Pollard. Would you like to see Tripoint? That ones an excellent example

Balls hit and rebounded on the table. Ben walked around the other end, considering his next shot, gave a twitch of his shoulders, estimated an angle, and took careful aim with the cue.

Mmmn, Sal said. Ben was sure it was Sals voice behind him. Muscles were absolutely limp this evening. He was a little off his gamegive or take a years hiatus. Dekker, the skuz, had had practice. Keep the run going. He didnt want the cue in Dekkers hands, not from what hed seen.

Two in succession. It was rec hall, bar in the middlea lot of udc guys on Permission down there, drowning their sorrows. Fleet at this end, some of them too. And a scatter of marine guardsmore khaki around the corridors than Ben personally found comfortable, thank you.

Real wringer of a sim this afternoon, hed earned a beer, dammit, but they had him up again tomorrow, same with all of them.

Opened his big mouth and theyd reset the sim, all right.

Dots and more dots, in a space where the effin familiar sun didnt exist

Spooky situation. Wanted to feel it out and you were busy tracking damn dots.

Gentle shot. Balls rebounded. Come on, come on

Ouch, Sal said.

Shit.

Dekker drew a breath. Armscomper wasnt the opponent youd choose in this game. Pilot versus armscomper got bets down, never mind hed had practice Ben swore you didnt have time to take at ti.

Hell if. Ben had learned it somewhere, helldeck, maybe. And a Belter didnt show you any mercy. You damn sure didnt want to let him get the cue back.

He saw his shot. Lined it up. Bets were down.Favor points. Military didnt let you play with money. And nobody had any.

Click and drop. Sighs from half the spectators. Muted cheers from the rest.

Second shot. Ball dropped, balls rearranged the pattern. He was sore when he bent to survey the situation, but it was a good kind of soreness, kind you got from a hard run. Never had realized there was good pain and bad. Hed felt the other kind. Too damn much.

Click.

Right on, Dek!

Meg and Sal had bets on opposite sides.

He grinned, took aim.

Click. Perfect bank.

Sudden disturbance, then, in the ambient. Dekker felt it, looked up as everybody else was looking, at a handful of udc guys whod showed up at the table. Marines were in motion, starting to move between.

Rob Childers. Kesslan and Deke. Chads crew. A marine said, Lets not have any trouble. Get on back there.

Rob said, Dek.

He felt a sudden queasiness in the approach. A sense of confrontation. The marines werent pushing. They werent letting the udc crew closer, either, and there was starting to be noise, other udc guys moving in.

Wait a minute, Almarshad protested, thank God somebody on their side had the sense to say something, offer a hand to object to force; and he had to move, himself, had to do something in the split second.

He dropped the cue to his left hand, took a nonbelligerent stance.

Dek, Rob said and held out his hand.

Put him entirely on the spot. Marines didnt move, didnt know who was who or what was happening here, he scoped thatscoped the moment and the move and the necessity to do something before they all ended up in the brig.

Rob, he said, and went quietly past a confused marine and took the offered hand, looked Rob in the face and wondered if Rob was the one whod tried to kill him, or if Rob knew who had. He took Kesslans hand, and Dekes.

The music system was grinding out a muted, bass-heavy beat, that had the silence all to itself.

Too much gone on, Rob said. Both sides.

He had to say something. He took that inspiration, said, Yeah. Has, and couldnt find anything else to say.

Let you get back to your game, Rob said.

Yeah. All right. He stood there while the room sorted itself out again, Rob and the rest of them going back to their side. He never managed to say the right thing. He didnt know what he could have said. He felt a hand on his armMeg, pulling him back to the table, while Franklin muttered, Shit all.

They do it? Mason asked him under his breath.

He gave it a desperate thought, trying to believe they were innocent. But he remembered getting hit, remembered the pod access, and couldnt be analytical about the dark, and the pain of broken bones, and the toneless voice that said, in the back of his memory, Enjoy the ride, Dekker.

Tape going into the slot. The voice said, Let me

Let me, what?

Wasnt anybody but the pilot handled the mission tape.

Didnt make sense.

He didnt answer Mason. He got down and lined up his shot again, determined. Made it. There was a sigh of relief. He was relieved too. Was all he asked, for his prides sake. Didnt want to show how rattled he was. He focused down and made a run of three, before a ball trembled on the verge of a drop. And didnt.

All right, Ben said, out of a sigh and a stillness. Ben sounded less than satisfied. Everything seemed paler, colder, he didnt know why. He stood by Meg and Sal, arms folded, and watched Ben make a straight run.

udc mps looked in on the situation. You could hear the music over the voices. When things were normal, you couldnt.

He wanted a drink, but regs didnt let him have one. He thought of desperate means to get one, but if they caught you at it, you were screwed. He didnt want a session with Porey. Didnt.

Bets got finalized. Hed bet himself, as happened, so had Ben; and Sal could collect. But something passed between Meg and Sal, and Meg took his arm and said Sal was taking a wait-ticket

You better get to bed, Meg said, and hed have paid off, he wouldnt have minded, he was halfway numb at the momenther change in arrangements made him think maybe he was better with Sal, who wouldnt prySal and he never had gotten into each others reasons for anything.

But Meg had set up what she evidently thought was a rescue, and he gave himself up and went off with her.

She was upbeat, cheerful, talking about the game, not a single question who that had been or whymust have gotten her information on her own, because Meg didnt favor ignorance, depend on it: she got him to bed, was willing to go slow if hed had the inclination: he didnt; and wrapped herself around him after and snuggled down to keep him warm, about the time Ben and Sal came trooping through.

Shhh, Meg hissed, and they were immediately quiet, quiet coming and going to the bathroomthe front room had its drawbacks; but he was on the edge of falling asleep, suddenly exhausted.

Glad hed made some sort of peace, he decided. Even if their move had put him on the spot and forced what he wasnt ready for.

Likely they werent the ones whod ambushed him. He hadnt been sure of that when hed taken Robs hand; and even if he was somewhat sure now, he couldnt come to peace with it, couldnt forgive them, could he, if there was nothing to forgive in the first place, if they were innocent and it was somebody else he saw every day in the corridors, ate with in the mess hall. Maybe whoever had put him in hospital had been in the crowd getting a further kick out of his confusion.

Hed lost an argument or two when he was a kidhed lived through the chaff he had to take, hed faced the guys againtheyd been two years older: hed lived in fear and gotten hell beaten out of him a couple of times by the same guys before hed made them believe they were going to take so much damage doing it they didnt want to keep on his casenot the ideal outcome hed have wanted, but at least he could believe hed settled it, at least hed made a point on them and at least they didnt give him any more trouble.

But out there in front of everybody, theyd put him directly on the spot, damn themyeah, he could have acted the touchy son of a bitch Ben said he was, told them go to hell and had the program in a mess and the lieutenant ready to kill him. Hed had an attack of responsibility, he decided finally. Mature judgement or something. His mother had sworn hed never live that long.

But it didnt solve his own problem. Just theirs. He was still walking around not knowing, still a target for another try, God only when, or on what provocation. In the meanwhile he knew those hed trust with his life, and those he just didnt know. In the meantime somebody was off scot free and probably laughing about it.

You all right, cher? Meg stirred beside him, massaged a shoulder. He realized the tension he had, then, probably as comfortable as a rock to be next to.

Yeah. He tried to relax. Cold.

Meg put a warm arm over his back. Roll over, jeune fils. No questions. Do. We got sims in the morning. Big day. Relax.

Couldnt understand why she put up with him. Couldnt understand why Ben did, except Sal was with Meg. He wished he could do better than he did, wished he could say they werent in a mess of his making. But it was. And they were. And Meg somehow didnt care he was a fool.

The rec hall was quiet. It was a Question whether to acknowledge what had happened or ignore it; but the former, Graff decidedword having drifted his way via Fleet Security via Sgt.-major Lynch. Probably word had drifted to Porey too and no orders had come. But it was Personnels business to take a tour, while the alterday galley staff was cleaning up. Music was still going. Most of the participants were back in barracks, hopefully.

Quiet here? he asked a marine on watch.

Quiet, sir.

Any feeling of trouble?

No, sir. Not lately. Real quiet, sir.

He made no approach toward the last few celebrantsa few udc , a few Fleet personnel, a little the worse for drink, at opposite ends of the hall. He wasnt there on a disciplinary. But he meant to be seen. His being there said command levels had heard, command levels were aware.

Dekker hadnt blown it, by all hed heard. He didnt know where the idea had started. He didnt know that it had done any good, but at least it had done no demonstrable harm.

Someone walked in at his back, walked up beside him.

Tables still standing, Villy said.

Noted that.

Hope it lasts, Villy said. Difficult time.

Villy had never said anything about the change in command. Like having your ship taken out of your hands, Graff thought, like watching it happen on, Villy had said, the last big project hed work on.

What did you say? What, in the gulf between his reality and Villys, did one find to say?

Good they did that, he said. I hope it takes.


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Chapter 13
 ^ 
Big empty section of the mastyoud know where you were blindfolded, null-g with the crashes of locks and loaders and the hum of the core machinery, noises that made the blood rush with memories of flights past and anticipation of another, no helping it. Meg took a breath of cold, oil-touched air, a breath that had the flightsuit pressing close, snug as a hardened skin, and hauled with one hand to get a rightside up view of what Dek had to show them, screen with a live camera image from, she guessed, optics far out along the mast.

Big, shadow-shape of the carrierwouldnt all fit in the picturewith spots on its hull picked it out in patchwork detail, all gray, and huge

And on the hull near the bow, a flat, sleek shape clung, shining in the floods.

Thats it? Ben asked.

Thats it, Dek said. Her. Whatever you want to call it. They built three prototypes. Thats the third. Thats the one thats make or break for us. Crew of thirty, when we prove it out. Four can manage herin a clean course, with set targets. Most of her mass is ordnance, ablation edge, and engine load. Youve had the briefings.

Meg stood by Sals side and got a shiver down the back that had nothing to do with the cold here. Beautiful machine, she was thinking; Sal said, Brut job, and meant the same thing, in a moment, it sounded as-if, of pure gut-deep lust. Wasnt any miner-can, that wicked, shimmery shape.

And most imminently, in the sim chamber behind the clear observation port, the pods, one in operation, a mag-lev rush around the chamber walls, deafening as the wall beside them carried the vibration.

Damn, she breathed. But you wouldnt hear it.

The pods you see moving, Dek said, over the fading thunder, thats the tame part. That rush is the dock and undock. They can take those pods more positive or neg gs than your guts going to like. But thats not the dangerous part. That pod, there, the still one He pointed at one floating motionless, away from the walls. Thats the real hellride. Could be at three-quarter light, what you know from inside. Thats the one they mop the seats on. Thats the one can put you in hospitalunstable as hell in that modescrew it and youll pull a real sudden change.

Thanks, Ben said. I like to hear that, damn, I like to hear that.

Meg said, Going to be all right. No problems. Hear?

But Dek looked up at that pod in a way she kept seeing after hed turned away and told them it was up the lines to the pod accesslike an addict looking at his addiction, and a guy scared as hell.

Take you on the ride of your life, was the way he put it.

Now wait a minute, Ben said. But Dek took out on the handlines and Sal snagged Bens arm with: Now, cher, if we dont keep with Dek and Meg here, theyll assign us some sheer fool pi-lut we dont know the hell who Do you want to go boom on a rock? No. Not. So soyez gentle and dont distract the jeune fils.

No, Graff said, no, colonel, I dont knowIve got a meeting with him

Hes got no right, was the burden of Tanzers phone call. Which didnt over all help Graffs headache. Neither did the prospect of dealing with Comdr. Porey face to face.

Ill pose him the question, he told Tanzer. Couldnt honestly blame the colonel this morningdiscovering that his carefully constructed sims schedule was in revision, that Villanuevas team had been opted straight off test systems into the priority sims schedule and three others of the test systems crews had been bumped off the sims schedule entirely, in favor of Dekker and three raw recruits, whod been given access-on-demand, on any shift.

The officer in charge of Personnel ought to know what was happening. One would logically think so.

The officer in charge of Personnel hung up the receiver, put on his coat and took his hangover headache down the corridor to the cos office.

Marine guards let him in. Porey was all smiling, smooth congeniality.

Jurgen, it was. And an offered hand as Porey got up from his desk. One had to take it or declare war. Ive been going through the reports. Excellent job youve done, getting us settled into station. I dont find a thing Id change. Sit down, sit down

Thank you, Graff said, and sat, wondering whose name those actions had gone out under in the report to FleetCommandwonder, hell, he knew what games Porey was playing, with the reports, with his smiling good grace: Poreys aides never knew what theyd meet when they walked into his office, the smiling bastard or the shouting, desk-pounding sumbitch, but either one would knife you. It was, knowing your career could hinge on Poreys approval, damned easy for a staffer to start twitching to Poreys cues. He could see it working in Carina junior crew out there, in the marine guardhe could see it going on all around him, suggesting that it might be wise for him to play Poreys game too; suggesting that this man, clearly on his way to a captaincy, and certainly in Mazians good graces, could be a valuable contact

Except that hed seen this game going on since they were both junior lieutenants, and he felt the urge to puke.

He said, with a fixed smile, Edmund, do you think your staff could possibly give Personnel any sims schedule changes a day in advance? Tanzer is not happy. I could have minimized the disturbance.

Didnt that come to you? Porey was all amazement.

No, it didnt come to me. I had to hear it from Tanzer. I dont like dealing with the udc when I dont know whats going on. It makes me feel like a fool. And I dont like that, Edmund, I truly dont.

Satire on Poreys own style wasnt what Porey was used to meeting. Porey had a thinking frown as he sat down, guarded amusement at the edges of his mouth: everything for effect, most especially the expressions on his face. Peel Porey layer by layer and you never got to center.

Matters of policy, Porey said, rotating a paperweight in his fingers, are handled in this office. Tanzer has no power that you dont give him. If you choose to coddle him, thats your decision. Not mine. The paperweight stopped moving. The assignment of personnel and priorities, however, is mine. Relations with the udc use your talents at diplomacy. Im sure youre up to it.

Distraction and a shot across the bow. By the Procedures, Personnel involves health and welfare, neither of which works when my office has no say in reassignments or systems changes. Attack of his own. In consideration of which, I want a briefing on the tape-learning procedures from the techs that came in with you. I dont have time to read science reports.

Jurgen, my staff hasnt time to handle delicate egos, Tanzers or yours.

Or three hundred fifty six Shepherds whove been rooked out of their seniority, lied to by the udc , shafted by the legislature and killed out there on the course because nobodys ever damn listened to them. Edmund, we have tempers at critical overload here, and a blow-up isnt going to look any better on your record than it looks on Tanzers. If you want a riot, these are the ones that will do it. Theyre not kids, theyve had too many fools in command over them here and in the Belt to trust anybody now on credit. They dont reject authority: theyre looking for it, they want itbut dont expect them to follow orders till they know the ultimate source is sane.

Porey didnt say anything for a moment. He wasnt stupid and he cared about his own survival. That was one thing you could believe in.

Porey said softly, Youre an honest man, Jurgen. How do you plan to get out of Earth system alive?

By keeping my co from making mistakes.

Long, cold stare. A slow smile. You dont have any resentment, do you, for my being installed here?

Im not command track. I never pretended to be.

Still the stare. You think Im pretending?

I dont think youre pretending anything. I know you. Feed the fantasyand the anxiety. Porey didnt like to be known, but he liked to be respected. The man did have an ego. A parsec wide. Porey smiled slowly, in a way that almost touched the eyes. Good. A vote of confidence from you, I appreciate, Jurgen. I truly do.

Odd chill of unease as the pod cruised up to the access. Thump of the pressure seals. Hydraulics as it opened and offered its dark, screen-lit interior. Ordinary sounds. Shadows moved on the white plastic of the control console as Dekker put the tape in and he felt an irrational urge to look behind him, as if his crew wouldnt be there.

No damned reason to get nerves. But it had been Pete on the line beside him, all the times before. It wasnt now. It wasnt Elly, it wasnt Falcone. It was Meg, on Petes tape; and Ben and Salthey belonged here. He made himself believe that, stop remembering what had been

For no reason, a piece of the puzzle snapped in, unbidden. Null-g. Shadows on the console. He felt the blow at the base of his skull. He knew where he had beenat the entry. Knew where theyd been. Shadows. Two of them

Dammit. Not the time to be woolgathering. He looked back at BenBen looked scared, but Ben looked On, tracking wide and fast on the pod, taking in everything, the same as Meg and Sal. All businessthe way they were when the jokes stopped and they were thinking and absorbing. He gave them the lecture tour, the buttons on the console, the read-out window, the authorizations procedureCard and tape in the slot for a check-out. It reads your id, takes your personal numbers and sets, and double-checks the tape for authorizations. Ready?

Are you serious? Ben said. Then: Yeah. Yeah. Go.

He caught the handholds on either side of the entry, angled his feet for inside and eeled into his station. Sal, he called back, over the hum of a passing pod, caught her by the arm as she sailed into the dark, shadow against the lights, a glitter of braids tied into a cluster, for safetys sake. He aimed her for the far side of the four-wide cockpit. Ben. Same as Ben came feet-first through the hatch, for the seat between him and Sal. Meg came last, for the seat between him and the hatch, settled in. Green-lit gold on plain stud earrings. Green dyed her side-shaved profile, green turned her red curls black. Ringed fingers found the belts and buckled in, eyes glowed wide and busy in the light of the screens, assessing the instruments.

He drew his own belt overhe waked reaching for them at night, with a recurring nightmare of drifting free. Suit braces powered up as he plugged in, and the helmet cut off side vision. It was deep-field v-hud now. Switches on, power up. Comfortable?

Yeah, from Meg. As possible, from Ben.

Belts were tight. Second tug, to be sure. Orientation run. Starting over, primer stuffonly he wasnt the neo this run. There was something surreal in the moment, in the familiar lights, in the ordinary sounds of the pod, the dark masquerading as routine. They were On. Anxious. Wanting to be right. But he kept expecting other voices.

This thing got any differences? Meg asked, last-minute.

He shoved the tape into the console, pushed load. One. See that yellow abort, upper left? Doesnt exist on the real boards. Itll stop the podif you dont get a response from me, or if you detect anyone in trouble, you hit that. Takes you right back to the bay.

Cher, came Megs low voice, you just do. I got confidence in us.

Moren I got, Ben muttered. Hold it, hold it. Im not set yet.

Response check, thing doesnt glitch, but be sure. Boards are all in test mode.

Passengers was all they were required to be; but that wasnt Megs style, wasnt Bens or Sals either. He tried his own boards, set his arms in the supports, heard Megs voice saying, I got it, right on. Ben muttering, Dont screw it, Dek-boy. Yeah, Im on, on, go.

Sals, saying, Hit it, Dek.

Dark, flash of lights

He kicked the thumb switch on his keys. Readout glowed green against the dark. Finger moves on opposite hands, the undock sequence switch.

Bang! of grapples. Mag-levs and human voices mixeda 6g shove butt-first for ten eternal seconds to a sustained straight-at-the-spine shove at +9g.

Green lines wove fast and faster the pod was live and the tons of thrust were mag-lev sim, but it was all in his hands, responsive to a breath, a stray thought, a moments doubtwhere he was, when he was, who he was with

He didnt want to do this.

Serious panic, a flash on instruments in chaos

Then. Not now. Now was now. Not a time to lose track, God, no

Focus down. Focus wide. Attention to the moving lines, thats all

Politics, Porey said, pure politics. Let me explain it to you. Fifteen of the fifty carriers have to be udc thats the deal we cut, and thats what we have to do. The accident gave us Hellburner, and that tapes going to give us the program. The parliaments on Earth want responsible individuals in policy positionread: no captains will violate policy laid down by the jlc. And this wont change in the field.

Graff stared at Porey. He thought hed heard the depth of foolishness out of Earth.

Porey made a small, sarcastic shrug. They have our assurances. And if the news services should call your office, Jurgen, and since youre over Personnel, they might, the answer you give is: No, of course these ships are launched at carrier command discretion, with specific targets. No, they will never be deep-launched, with less specific orders. That tactic wont work.

You mean I lie.

I mean the Joint Legislative Committees expert analysts say not. The changing situation over timeread: the commanders of individual ships making decisions without communicating with each otherwould make chaos of strategic operations. So it cant be done. End report. The jlc analysts say its not an appropriate use of the riders. The legislators dont like what these ships can do, combined with theirregular characterof the crews weve picked to handle them. These crews are, historically, trouble Earth got rid of. Earths strategic planners are obsessed by the difficulty theyve discovered of conveying their orders to ships in the Beyondtheyve apparently just realized the time lag. They cant phone Pell from here and order policy about

Theyve always known that.

The ordinary citizen hasnt. The average businessman can get a voice link to Mars now. Or the Beltif he wants one.

Lag-com was a skill, a schitzy kind of proceeding, talking to a voice that went on down its own train of logic with no regard to your event-lagged self. That was one of the reasons senior Com and psych were virtually synonymous. And Earth hadnt realized until now you couldnt talk to a launched rideror a star carrier? He refused to believe it.

Lag-com has finally penetrated the civil user market, Porey said, since we increased the pace of insystem traffic. Earthers are used to being told the antennas gone los, used to being told Marslink is out of reach for the next few months, used to shipments enroute for years and monthssupply the market counts but cant touch. Their ship-borne infowave was so slow as to be paralytic, before we started military operations insystem. The last two years have upset that notionthis, from the captain. So if anyone asks youof course were going to have a strong mother-system component in FleetCommand. Of course rider-ships will never make command decisions. Were going to loop couriers back to Earth constantly.

Mazians promised this?

The same as they promised us.Jurgen, you have far too literal a mind. This is a game. They play it with their constituents. The legislatures technical advisers are under influencescorporate, economic, political but youve met that. They certainly wont deviate from party line. Where does the funding for their studies come from, anyway?

Lights flared, green numbers bled past in the dark. Do the run in his sleep, Dekker kept telling himself, piece of easy. But it didnt stop the heart from pounding, didnt stop hands and body from reacting to the situation on-screenyou didnt brake the reactions, you didnt ever, just presented the targets to your inert armscomp, accepted Ben was going to miss most of the time and tried not to let that expectation ever click into the relays in your brain.

Screw that, he heard Ben mutter, and all of a sudden got input on his aux screens, targets lit, armscomp prioritizing.

Chaff, he determined. Then targets flashed and started disappearing. Longscan was coming from a living hand, not the robot inputs. He heard Shit! from Ben and saw the scan image shift, tracking fire. Megs gold data-sift to his highside hud was making sudden marginal sense. Not like Pete Not the same Doing all right, doing all right, he muttered, just Heart jumped. Hands reacted. Sim did

He stopped the bobble before his vision cleared. Guys werent talking, someone had yelped, short and sharp, but the dots that meant conscious were still lit, data was still coming up on the screens, fire was still happening, longscan shaping up. Had three scared guys in the seats. Next four shots were misses. His fault. Hed pulled a panic, lost ithad no time now to be thinking about ittargetsdammittohell!

The udc , Porey said, rocking back his chair, believes in a good many myths. We dont disabuse them. And, yes, this room is secure.

What else havent we said? What else hasnt filtered out here? Or is this a longstanding piece of information?

The ecs4, Porey said, is fully outfitted. Fully outfitted. Were operational, and we have a com system they cant penetrate. To our knowledgethey havent even detected its operation. Installation on the ecs8is waiting a shipment. Communications between you and fso have been, I understand, infrequent. That situation is going to improve.

When?

Estimatetwo months, three.

Until then? Edmund,I want to know. Who pulled Kady and Aboujib out of the Belt? Who opted Pollard in? Where did this damned new system come in?

Exact origin of those orders? Porey asked with a shrug.

Im sure at some high level. Meaning Keu or Mazian, which said no more than he knew. But the reason for pulling them inplainly, they were Dekkers crew, we know things now about Hellburner we didnt know. Weve adjusted the training tape to reflect that, weve chosen a crew with a top pilot to start with atragicallyclean slate. Its the best combination we can come up with.

Not to rush into schedule. Dekkers just out of hospital. Look at his psychological record, for Gods sake. Youre putting an outrageous load on this crew.

I leave that to the medics. They cleared him. Hes in.

Cleared him with how much pressure from command?

What are you suggesting?

That theres too damned much rush on this. That Dekkers not ready to go into schedule.

Porey leaned back in the chair, frowning. You expressed a curiosity about the tape system. Have you ever had deep-tape, Jurgen?

No. Emphatically. It occurred to him at the moment that Porey could order that even in his case. And he didnt like the thought.

Ordinary dni tape isnt so different from deepteach. Less detailed, in general. But the real difference is the class of drugs. Deepteach trank suppresses certain types of brain activity. Eliminates the tendency to cross-reference with past experience. General knowledge is still an asset. Specific training isnt. Hostility to the process certainly isnt. The other trainees have both handicaps. Theyve been trained otherwise and they wont trust a tape telling them differently. But this crew knows nothing else. They have general knowledge. Theyre not afraid of it. So their judgement can override the tape.

Theoretically.

Another shrug. So the technicians assure us: that with no trained response to overcomethey can do it and not panic. We cut a new tape from what succeedsand bootstrap the others.

You bring this tape business in, Graff said, you slip it in on a novice crew without an explanationthen you want to shove off Belt miner reactions on Shepherd crews thatve risked their necks for a year training for these boards? What do I say to these people? Whats the official word? Because the rumors out, Edmund, they didnt take that long to put two and two together.

Porey looked at him long and coldly from the other side of what had been his desk. Tanzers complaining. Youre complaining. Everybodys bitching. Nobody in this facility wants to take this program to implementation. I have other orders, Jurgen. If crews dietheyll die in the sims. We do not lose another ship on display. We havent, as happens, another ship we can lose.

We havent another core crew we can lose, either. Where are you going to get recruits if you kill our best with this damned tape? Draft them out of Earths pool? Persuade the Luna-Sol cargo runners to try what killed the Shepherds?

Maybe you dont have enough confidence in your recruits.

I have every confidence in them. I also know theyve never been cut free to do what they knownot once. Theyre a separate culture from Earth, separate from Mars, separate even from the Belt. The udc regulated them and played power games with their assignments and their schedules. The jlc changed the specs and cut back the design. These crews thought when the Fleet came in here that somebody was finally on their side. So what do I tell them when they ask about this tape? That we took it off the last spectacular fatalities? Thats going to give them a hell of a lot of confidence.

Dekker should trust it. The tape did come from his crew. And he certainly knows the crew weve given him.

The crew weve given him never worked ops together. They were financial partners. Everyone seems to have forgotten that!

Dekkers confident.

Confident, hell! Dekkers numb. Hes taken the chaff thats come down from the udc , his crews dead, somebody tried to kill him, hes got a personal problem with a MarsCorp board member, which is why the udc pulled him from that demo in the first place, on somebodys orders I still havent heard accounted for. You put him into the next mission and what guarantees you wont get the same communique Tanzer got: Pull Dekker, keep him out of the media, take him out of the crew thats trained for that runand then what will you do? Fold like Tanzer did? Or tell the ec go to hell?

Cold stare. Finally Porey said, Im aware of Dekkers problem.

Is that all? Youre aware? Do you realize his mother and the peace party lawyers are all over the news right now? The case is active again. Do you think thats coincidence? Salazar doesnt care what she brings down.

Im aware of Alyce Salazar.

So are you going to pull Dekker? Or are you using him as test fodder? Doesnt matter if he cracks up in the sims, it solves a problemis that it?

You have a personal attachment to this boyis that your problem?

No re-position. Straight through. Straight through. He got a breath and tried to tell himself it was all right, it was only a sim. A last target.

Miss. Sal said, Damn, and: Sorry, Ben.

Yeah, yeah, Ben said.

Dekker. Sim chiefs voice. You didnt hear them break in like that, they didnt remind you they existed unless you were totally, utterly screwed. Dekker. Whats the trouble?

Pod was in neutral now. They wouldnt abort you coldshift like that messed with your head. But nothing further was going to happen in the sim. Virtual space was running, green lines floating in front of his eyes, but without threat. His heart was going like a hammer. Breaths came in gasps.

Muscle spasm.

He lied to the sim chief. Chief was going to order them in, no question. New crewhe could well glitch their reactionsHed never, never gotten called down over com. Never gotten a stand-down like this.

Going to order a return. Your crew all right?

Crews fine. He didnt get any contradiction over com.

You want to push the button?

Abort was quicker. Abort would auto them to dock. His nerves wanted that.

Ill go manual. No abort. Hell if he was going to come in like a panicked neo. He got his breathing calmed. He lined them up, minute by excruciating minute. He brought it as far as basics. Meg, he said then, take it in. Dock it, straight push now. Can you do that?

Got it, Meg said. Take a breath, Dek.

Three more minutes in. Dock was basicnow. Lesson one. Punch the button. Mind the closing v. Theyd killed one man and a prototype module getting that to work realtime, before Staatentek admitted they had a problem.

Whole damned program was built on funerals

Doing all right, Meg.

He unclenched stiff fingers. Watched the numbers run, steady, easy decline in distance: lock talked to lock and the pod did its own adjustments.

Bang into the grapples. System rest.

A damned pod, not the ship, but he was having trouble breathing as the hatch opened, to Megs shutdown

Shit!

His heart jumped. Easy, easy, he told her, as she made a frantic reach at the board. Locks autoed, not your fault, not your fault, its automatic on this level.

Not used to these damn luxuries. Breath hissed between her teeth. Got it, thanks.

No word out of Ben. Ben wasnt happy. Sal wasnt. He could feel it out of that corner. He thought about saying Dont mind it, but that wasnt the case, you damned well had to mind a screw-up like this, and they did. He thought about telling them some of those were his fault, but that wasnt what they needed to set into their reactions either. He just kept his mouth shut, got the tape, grabbed the handholds and followed Meg out the hatch.

Caught Megs attention, quick concerned look. He shied away from it, hooked onto the handline and heard Ben and Sal exit behind him. He logged the tape out on the console, teeth clenched against the bitter cold.

Cher, Meg said, gently, hovering at his shoulder, trying for a look at him or from him, he wasnt sure and he wasnt coping with that right now.

Well get it, Sal said. Sorry, Dek.

They were trying to apologize to him. Hell.

He started to shiver. Maybe they could see it. Maybe they were realizing how incredibly badly hed screwed that moveor would figure it once their nerves settled. He didnt know how much to tell them, didnt want to act like an ass, but he couldnt put his thoughts togetherhe just grabbed onto the handline and headed off down the tube, not fast, but first, so he didnt have to see their faces.

He heard Ben say, Damn temper of his. Break his neck, Id like to.

Hey, Meg said, then, we screwed up, all right? We screwed it, we screwed him up, hes got a right.

He wanted to tell Meg no; and he wanted to believe that was the answer; but he couldnt. He handed off at the lift, waited for them.

Sal said, Dek, well get it. Trez bitch, that machine. But well get it, no problem.

Yeah. First word hed been able to get out. He punched the lift for exit level, snatched back a shaking hand toward his pocket.

Meg was looking at him, they all were, and he didnt want to meet their eyes. He stared at the lift controls instead, watched the buttons light, listened to the quiet around him, just the lift thumping on the pressure seals.

So? Tanzer asked, on the phone; Does this mean a runaround or does it mean youve found an answer to my question?

There is an answer, colonel. Negative. The orders come from outside this base. We cannot change policy.

Policy, is it? Policy? Is that what we call it now, when nobody at this base can answer questions? What do you know, lieutenant? Anything?

Graff censored what he knew, and what he thought, and said quietly, I repeat, Ive relayed your objections. Theyve been rejected. Thats the answer I have to convey, colonel, Im sorry.

Damn you, Tanzer said, and hung up.

He hung up. He sat for a long few moments with his hands folded in front of his lips and tried to think reasonably. No, he could not call the captain. FleetCom went through Porey now. No, he would not go running to his crewand maybe that was pride and maybe it was distrust of his own reasoning at the moment. He was not command track. He was not in charge of policy. He was not in authority over this base, not in authority over strategy, and not in the decision loop that included the captain, who somehow, in some degree, had to know what was going on hereat least so far as Demas and Saito had said: theyd warned Keu, theyd pleaded with him, and Keuhad refused to rein Mazian back, had let Mazian make his promises and his assignments.

So what was there to say? The captain had refused to disapprove Poreys command. The captain had refused Demas, refused Saito who was he, to move Keu to do anything? Perhaps the captain was more farsighted, or more objective, or better informed.

Or more indifferent.

Porey was aware of Dekkers problem? And Porey shoved Dekker and a novice crew toward mission prep?

Bloody damned hell!

You blew it, Porey said.

Yessir, Dekker said on a breath. No excuses.

No excuses. I told you I wouldnt hear excuses, and I wouldnt hear sorry. Youre the pilot, you had the say, if you werent ready you had no mortal business taking them in there.

Yessir.

Poreys hand came down on the desk. He jumped.

Nerves, Mr. Dekker. What are you going to do about it?

Get my head straight, sir.

Second blow of Poreys hand. Youre a damned expensive failure, you know that?

You didnt argue with Porey. The lieutenant had warned him. But too damned many people had told him that.

Im not a failure, sir.

Was that a success? Was taking trainees into that sim and screwing them up a success?

No, sir.

Nothings the matter with you physically.The meds found nothing wrong with you. Its in your head, Dekker. What did you claim after Wilhelmsen cracked up? That you knew better? Do you still know better?

Yessir.

Can you do the run he did?

Yessir.

Youre no use to me screwed up, you are no damned use, mister. Ive got other crews. Ive got other pilots. And let me tell you, if you dont straighten yourself out damned fast, weve got one more way to salvage you. Weve got one more tape we can use, which I havent, because you said you were better, because the techs said untrained personnel were better on tape, but if youre no other good to anyone, Dekker, then we might just as well put you right down in that lab and input what might improve your performance. You know what Im talking about?

He guessed. He managed to say, Yessir.

Ill make a promise to you, Dekker. Youve got one week. Im not restricting you, you can do any damned thing you want, I dont give a damn for the regulations, for the schedule, for whatever you want to do. Youve got carte blanche for one week. But if you dont pull those sim scores right back where you were before your accident, then we put you into lab, input Wilhelmsens tape into your head, and see if it improves your performance. You understand that?

Yessir.

Are you clear on that?

Yessir.

Then get the hell out of here and do it, Dekker, while the labs try to straighten out the damage youve done to your crew. I dont want to see your face right now. I dont know if I want to see it again.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 14
 ^ 
Seq. 285t-III. Dekker, Paul F. Authorized.

He waited, clinging to the line, felt like a fool inputting the card and checking the tape serial number on the display for the second time, but the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to go away, and nothing seemed right, or sure enough.

Couldnt remember if hed done it. Things hed done werent registering. He was thinking on things other than here and now and the number didnt damn matter. There wasnt a training tape he couldnt handle.

Come apart on an orientation run, for Gods sake? Their input couldnt have overriden his displays if he hadnt let it, and they were apologizing to him for screwing up? If he was glitching on their input, he could have spared a hand to shut them out. He could have let go the damned yoke and recovered it at leisure. The number one sim was a walk down the dock if you didnt seize up like a fool

Muscle spasm. Point zero five second bobblenot wide enough to invoke the braces or trigger an abort on a sleeper run like that; and hed spaced on itin that five-hundredth second, hed been in the Belt, hed been back at Sol, hed been with Pete and the guys and lost with CoryGod only where his head had been but he hadnt known his next move. Hed blanked on it, without reason, without warning.

Pod drifted up, opened for him. He grasped the handholds and slid into the dark insiderespiration rate coming up. Sweat starting. He could feel it on his face, feel it crawling under the flightsuit as he prepped the boards. Belts, confirm. Power up, confirm. Single occupant, tape 23b, Dekker, P. all confirm.

He adjusted the helmet. The dark and the glowing lights held a surreal familiarity. It was no time. It was every time.

Some drugs came back on you, wasnt that the case?

But the guys werent with him now. If he screwed it he screwed it by himself. Wasnt going to let them do to him what theyd done to Meg and Ben and Sal, wasnt going to take that damned tape

No.

Dekker.

Sim chief again.

Dekker, you want to stand down for an hour?

Didnt like their telemetry. Picking up his heartbeat.

No. Im all right.

Dekker.

Series of breaths. Poreys orders. Free ticket. Im all right, let it go.

Seemed like forever that light stayed red.

They had guys over in hospital that couldnt walk straight, that never would fly again

Had guys in the mental ward

Sim chief was probably checking with Poreys office.

Calm the breathing down.

Light went from red to green.

Punch it in.

go!

Dek, it was, howd the run go? and Dek, you all right?

He winced, shrugged, said, Fine, working on it.

And stopped the lift on three-deck, made it as far as the nearest restroom and threw up non-stop.

From Meg, back in barracks, a shake at his shoulder: Dek, cher. Wake up. Mess call. You coming? Youd better come.

He hauled himself out of half-sleep and off the bunk, wobbled into the bathroom to pop an antacidthe meds didnt restrict those, thank Godand to scrub normal color into his face. He walked out again to go with Meg, navigated ordinary space, trying not to see the glowing lines and dark, not to hear the mags or feel the destabilizing jolts of thrust.

Familiar walls, posters, game tables, drift of guys out to the hall. Ben and Sal gave them a: Come on, youre late, and he wondered suddenly where this hall was, or why he should stay in it, when there were so many other like places he could bespaced, he told himself, sane people didnt ask themselves questions like that, sane people didnt see the dark in the light

Hey, Dek, you all right?

Mason. Yeah. Thanks.

Hand on his shoulder. Guys passed them in the hall.

He all right? Sal asked.

Yeah, he said. Somehow he kept walking as far as the messhall, couldnt face the line. Im just after coffee, all right? Im not hungry.

They objected, Meg said she was getting him a hamburger and fries, and the sumbitch meds and dieticians would log it to her, the way they did every sneeze in this place, maybe screw up her medical records. He waved the offer off, went over to the coffee machine and carded in.

Nothing made sense to him. Everything was fractured. He was making mistakes. Hed glitched the target calls right and left this morning.

It had been this morning. It had to have been this morning but hed run it so many times

He walked back toward the tables, stood out of the traffic and muttered answers to people who talked to him, not registering it, not caring. People came and went. He remembered the coffee in his hand and drank it. Eventually Meg and Sal came out of the line, so did Ben, and gathered him up.

Meg had the extra hamburger. Youre eating, she said. You want the meds coming after you?

He didnt. He took it, unwrapped it, and Ben hit him in the ribs. Pay attention, Dek-boy.

Huh?

Huh, Ben echoed. Salt. Pass the salt. God. You are a case today.

Thinking, he said.

Ben gave him a look, a shrug in his direction. Hes thinking. I dont think Ive ever seen that before.

Ben, Meg said.

Dekker. Pass the damn salt.

Shit! Wasnt approved com, the sojer-lads got upset, but she was upset, so what?

Its all right, its all right, the examiner said. Youre doing fine, Kady.

Tell me fine, I screwed my dock

You couldnt flap the voice. It gets harder, Kady. Thats the object. Lets not get overconfident, shall we?

Overconfident, my She was shaking like a leaf.

Different voice. Deep as bone. You shoved a screen in over your pilots priority. Did your pilot authorize that?

Hell, she wasnt in a mood for games. She thought she knew that voice. It wasnt the examiner.

Kady?

Had to know, she muttered. Hell, she was right, shed done the right thing.

Not regulation, Kady.

Screw the regs, shed say. But she did know the voice. There werent two like it.

Yessir, she said meekly, to no-face and no-voice. Dark, that was all. Just the few yellow lights on the v-hud and the boards, system stand-down.

You think you can make a call like that, Kady?

Shit. Yessir.

Silence then. A long silence. She waited to be told she was an ass and an incompetent. She flexed her hands, expecting God onlythey sometimes started sim on you without warning.

Then the examiners quiet voice saidshe wasnt even sure now it was alive

Lets go on that again, Kady.

She couldnt stand it. Was I right?

Your judgement was correct, Kady.

Ms. Dekker, do you have proof of your allegations?

Talk to my lawyer.

Is it true your son is in a top secret Fleet project?

I dont know where he is. He doesnt write and I dont give a damn.

How do you feel about Ms. Salazars allegations

More and more of it. A Paris news service ran a clip on Paul Dekker that went back into juvenile court records and the other services pounced on it with enigmatic references to an outstanding warrant for his arrest and his work inside a top-secret Fleet installation.

Graff punched the button to stop the tape, stared at the blank screen while Demas hovered. fso had sent their answer: Regarding your 198-92, Negative. Meaning theyd turned up nothing they cared to say on the caseat least nothing they trusted to FleetComor him.

Influence-trading, Demas said. Scandals of the rich. Young lovers. Salazar and her money against the peacers. The publics fascinated.

The Fleet didnt need this. He didnt. Dekker certainly didnt. A bomb threat involving Salazars plane, the peacers denying responsibility, the European Police Agency finding a confidential report in the hands of the news services. Rode the news reports outside Sol Two almost as hot and heavy as the Amsterdam Tunnel collapse.

While Demas and Saito only said, Hold on, Helm. Hold on. Dont make a problem, the captain doesnt need a problem.

I honestly, Demas said, dont think Dekker needs to see this particular broadcast, regardless of any promises.

Shes never called him. Never returned the call.

Lawyers may have advised against. Id advise against. Personally, J-G.

I knew you would.

So you didnt ask.

I dont know Earth. Now I wonder if I even know Dekker. Hes never asked me, eitherwhether there was word.

Light and dark. The ai substituted its interlink for crew, he was fine till the randoms popped up, till he saw the wicket he had to make and the pod reactedbobble and reposition, reposition, reposition

Fuckin hell!

Screwed it, screwed itscrewed that oneredlight

Youre hit. Keep going. Dont think about it.

Chest hurt, knees hurt, right arm was numb. Damn hour and five sim and he was falling apart

Made five. Lost one.

Randoms again. Five minutes down. God, a chaff round

Blinked sweat. Tasted it. Hate the damn randoms, hate the bastards, hate the Company, dammit

Overcorrection. Muscles were tired, starting to spasm, God, where was the end of this run?

Couldnt hold it. hud was out, the place was black and blacker

Dek, Dek, wake up, from the other side of the door, and Ben, with the territory behind his eyes all full of red and gold and green lines and red and yellow dots, hoped Meg would just put a pillow over the sumbitchs face. Beside him, Sal moved faintly.

Dek!

Shit, Sal moaned, and elbowed him in a muzzy catch after balance.

Dek? Come out of it.

Son of a bitch, Ben muttered, felt a knee drop into the cold air outside the covers and set a foot on the floor, hauled himself for his feet and banged into the chair by the bed.

Ben? Sal murmured, but the blow to the hip did it. He shoved the door open into the dark next door and snarled, Dekker!

Dekker made a sound, Meg gave a sharp grunt above a crack of flesh and bone meeting. The son of a bitch had got her.

Dekker! He shoved past a smooth female body to get a shove of his own in, got a grip and held it. Dekker, dammit, you want to take a cold walk?

Same as hed yelled at Dekker on the ship, when Dekker got crazy. He had one hand planted against a heaving, sweating chest, right about the throat, and Meg had cleared back, gotten to the light switch. He couldnt see anything but a blur, and he didnt let up the pressureif Dekker moved to hit him Dekker was going to be counting stars, he had his mind made up to that. Dekker was gasping for breatheyes open now.

Spooks again, Meg panted.

Ill say its spooks, this is the damn spook! I dunno why you sleep with him.

The inside door opened and Sal came in at the periphery of his vision. He heard Meg saying, Its all right, its just surface, and kept his own hold on the lunatic, who still looked spaced and shocky. Dekkers heart was going hard, felt like detonations under his hand. Dekkers eyes had lost their glaze, started tracking around him.

Drifted back again, looked halfway cognizant.

Letup, Dekker said.

He thought about that. He thought about Meg saying for the last damn week Dekker was just confused, and Sal saying back off and give him some space. While Dekker kept a sim schedule the other crews were talking about. He gave Dekker a shove in the chest. Hard.

Let up, hell. Ill solve your problem, Ill break your neck for you. You hit Meg, you skuz, you know that? Dekker didnt say anything, so he asked, for Dekkers benefit, You all right, Meg?

Yeah.

Hell of a bruise coming, Sal muttered.

Dekker set his jaw again, didnt exactly say go to hell, but that was the look he gave, along with the impression he might not be in control of his voice right now. When Dekker shut up, you either kept a grip on him or you got out of his way. So he kept his hand where it was, asked, civilly, You still talking to him, Meg?

Wasnt his fault, Ben. Mistake. Meg sounded shaky herself, Meg had evidently gotten clipped worse than he thought, and that wobbly tone upset Dekker, he saw that. Dekker quit looking like a fight, just stared at the ceiling, gone moist-eyed and lock-jawed.

Great.

He gave Dekker another shove, risking explosion. You want to, maybe, get a grip on it, Dek-boy? Or you want to schitz some more?

Dekker made a move for his wrist, not fast, just brushing him off. He let Dekker have his way, stood back and let Dekker sit up with his head down against his knees a moment, to wipe the embarrassment off his face.

You know, he said, pressing that advantage, you do got a serious problem, Dek. You busted Meg whos trying to help you, the meds are bitching youre pushing it too damned hardyou seriously got to get your head working, Dek-boy, and we got to have a talk. Meg, Sal, you want to leave him with me a minute?

Dekker looked away, at the wall. Sal shoved Meg out of the room and Dekker didnt look happy with the arrangement, didnt look at him when the door shut, just sat in bed and stared elsewhere.

Towel on a chair. Ben got it and wrapped it around himselfwasnt freezing his ass off, wasnt matching physique with pretty-boy, eitherwouldnt effin be here arguing with him, except he was supposed to go back into pod-sims with a guy who couldnt figure out what time it was.

Just drop it, Dekker said.

Drop it, huh? Drop it? Wake me up in the Middle Of, and I should drop it? Were getting back in that pod at 0900, Im not seriously inclined to drop it!

Dekker leapt up off the bed and shoved him. Just fuck off! Fuck off, Ben, all right?Im resigning.

Took a second for that to make sense. Didnt look as if Dekker was going to shove him twice, didnt look as if Dekker was anything but serious. Resign from the Fleet? You couldnt. From the program? Moonbeam had cold feet of a sudden?

Serious problem here, damned serious problem, from a guy who had dragged him into this so deep he couldnt see out, whose neck he had every moral right to break already; Dekker was piling the reasons higher, except Dekker wasnt exactly copacetic enough for a fight at the moment, and there were two women in the other room, primarily Meg, but Sal, too, who would take severe exception to his murdering the skuz.

Resigning, he echoed Dekker.

Dekker leaned an elbow against the wall, wiped his shave-job mop out of his eyes and muttered, Before the sim. First thing I can get anybody on mainday. When did this notion take you?

Dekkers jaw locked again, visibly. Knot of muscle. Nowhere stare. But you waited and it would unlock, sometimes in ways you didnt want, but he waited. Dekker took a second swipe at his hair, and stood with his hand on the back of his neck.

I havent got it, Ben, thats all. Im schitzing out.

Yeah? He wasnt eager to climb into that pod with a lunatic, he didnt know why in hell he had this urge to pull Dekker out of his funk and assure he was going to have to do thatit was instinct kept him here, to hold the seams of the partnership together, maybe, what they had right now being better than the hellish situation they could have. Schitz Im used to. You want to explain this new idea?

Doesnt need explaining. I cant cut it anymore. Cant do it.

Nice of you.

Yeah.

Dekker, you are the absolute nicest son of a bitch I ever met, God, what do we do to deserve how nice you are? We are stuck in this fools outfit, theyre feeding us this damn experimental tape on account of they got it off your crew and you skuz out on us. Do you think theyre going to give up on the investment they got in us?No, theyre going to put us out on the line with some only skosh saner fool and take stats on how long we take to make a fireball! Thanks, thanks ever-so for the big favor, Dek, and mercy for the vote of confidence, but you got to excuse us if we dont all break into party, here.

Im sorry. Dekker turned his back on him, leaned a second against the bathroom door, then went in and shut the door.

Dekker,

Didnt like that sudden cut-off. Didnt like that, Im sorry, out of the son of a bitch. There werent locks on the doors. Not in this place. So he hauled the door open.

Dekker was bent over the sink. Mirror-Dekker looked up, white as death, with a haggard expression that scared hell out of him.

You contemplating anything stupid, Moonbeam?

What time is it, Ben? You know what time it is?

You know what the hell time it is.

Not all the time, Ben, not all the fuckin time I dont know what time it is, all right? Im losing it!

You never knew where it was in the first place.

Its not funny, Ben. Its not damn funny. Let me the hell alone, all right?

Hell if. He grabbed Dekker by the elbow and steered him out of the closet of a bathroom, Dekker balked in the doorway and Ben slammed him hard against the doorframe. Listen, Moonbeam, you dont need to know where the hell you are, thats Megs department. You dont need to wonder whats coming, thats Sals. You dont need to know a damn thing but where the targets are and get me a window, you hear me? Time doesnt mean shit to you, it doesnt ever have to mean shit, you just fuckin do your job and leave ours to us, you hear me?

Door opened. It was the marines or it was Meg to Dekkers rescue. But Dekker wasnt fighting the hold he had, Dekker was backed against the bathroom doorframe with a kind of consternation on his face, as if hed just heard something sane for once.

Ben, back off him.

Yeah, yeah, hes all yours, I got no designs on him. He let Dekker go and Dekker just stood there, while Sal grabbed his arm and said, Benjie, cher, venez, venez douce.

Hell of a mouse Meg had on her cheek. Meg was wearing a towel around the waist and not a stitch else when she put her arms around Dekkers neck and said something in his ear, Come to bed, probablybut he wasnt sure that was what Dekker needed right now, Dekker needed somebody to bounce his head off the wall a couple more times, if it wouldnt wake the neighbors.

Cher. Come on.

Sal tugged at him. He went back to their room, Sal trying to finesse him into bed. Ordinarily nothing could have distracted him from that offer. But he was thinking in too tight a loop, about Dekker, the sim upcoming, and the chance of a screw-up. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Sal massaged his back, then put her arms around his neck, rested against his shoulders.

Megll handle him, Sal said.

Meg should take a good look at him. Sal, we got a problem. Major. He says hes quitting.

Quitting!

You want to lay bets theyll let him? No. Nyet. No way in hell. We got ourselves one schitz pilot. I got nightmares. Hes got em. Hes been pushing himself like a crazy man

Put Meg in?

I think we better consider it. I think Meg better consider itat least on the one tomorrow. I dont know if theyll stand for it. But thats our best current idea, if were going to get in there with him.

Sal gave an unaccustomed shiver. They give us that damned tape. Hell, Im used to thinking, Ben. Im used to making up my own damn mind. I cant. I dont know that I am. Its a screw-up, soldiers no different than the corp-rats, you get the feeling on a screw-up.

Youre doing all right.

The scores are all right. But I still never know, Ben, I dont get anything solid about what Im doing, I dont ever get that feeling.

He didnt either. He hauled Sal around in front of him, held on to her, Sal being warm and the room not.

Sal held on to him. He buried his face in Sals braids and tangled his fingers in the metal clips. Dunno, Sal, I dunno. Ive done everything I know. Meg should screw him silly, if he wasnt so skuzzed.

Wont cure everything, cher.

Makes a start, doesnt it?

Hes a partner, Sal said.

Yeah. Moonbeam that he is.

Soldier-boys arent going to listen to him or us.

Dek-boys on total overload. Ive seen this guy not at his best and this is it. Hes not stupid. Lot of tracks in that brainthats his problem. All he has to do is follow one and hes in deep space so far you need a line to bring him back. But none of them pay off. His crews dead, hes still hurting, not a damn word out of his mama, Poreys on his back, were in deep shit, and hes not thinking, hes just pushing at the only track hes got. The only one thatll move. Dont give this boy time as a dimension. Hes just fineas long as its now.

Yeah. Yeah. I copy that. What do they say, hyperfocus and macrofocus?

And dammit, you dont let this boy make executive decisions. Paper ranks got nothing to do with this. Its who can. Effin same as the merchanters.

Meg?

He hesitated over that. Didnt have to think, though. Megs Meg. Megs the ops macrofocus. The Aptitudes pegged her exactly right. Meg always knows where she is. Knows two jumps ahead. Deks the here and now, not sure whats coming. No. Im the exec.

Silence a moment. Maybe hed made Sal mad. But it was the truth.

So how do we tell them? Sal asked.

Sal,you want to switch seats tomorrow morning?

She sat back and looked him in the face, shocked. God, youre serious. Theyd throw us in the brig.

Is that new? No, listen, we can do it: same boards, different buttons. You got eight different pieces of ordnance, thats the biggest piece of information to track on. I can diagram it for you. Inputs, you got two, one from Meg if you got time to sight-see, one from longscan, which you know what that looks like

Ben. What are you up to?

Surviving this damn thing. A long, shaky breath. Going against military regs wasnt at all like scamming the Company. But it did start coming together, now that he was thinking about the pieces. Because I want the damn comp. Because, screw em, its what I do. Because I think that et sumbitch in there effin knows were in the wrong spots and it doesnt feel right to him and its killing him. I dont know this crew that died, but I can bet you, one of them was the number one in this unit, no matter who they had listed. That guy died and they bring us in and put Dekker in charge? No way.

Whats that make me, mister know-all? Why in hell did they Aptitude me longscan and you the guns?

Hed spent a lot of time thinking on that. He reached up and laced his fingers with Sals. Because you want em too much, because you enjoy blowing things up.Because thats not what the tests want on that board.

She let go. Whered you get that shit?

Hey. Helldeck psych. Cred a kilo. And I know what the profiles are. Im from ti. ti writes these tests. They got this Command Profiles manual, lays out exactly what qualifications they want in fire-positions and everything else. Enjoying itd scare them shitless. Were not inner system. You got to lie to the tests, Sal, you got to psych what they want us to be and you got to be that on those testsonly way you get along.

MegMeg is doing all right with this stuff. Tape doesnt bother her.

Megs an inner systemer, isnt she? She knows how to tell them exactly what they want to hear. Megs doing what she wants. Were not.

So what do we do? Is Aptitudes going to listen, when they made the rules?

Lieutenant might. If Graff could do anything. If it wasnt too late. He was scared even thinking about what occurred to him. But running into a rock was scarier than that. And that was likely. A lot of scary things were likely. Like a crack-up tomorrow morning. Stiff neck for a week after Dekkers twitch at the controls.

Should we go talk to him?

No. Not direct. He eased Sal off his lap, went and got a bent wire out of a crack in the desk drawer.

What? Sal started to ask, and shut up fast. She watched in silence as he bent down and fished his spare card out of a joint in the paneling.

He put it in the reader, typed an access, typed a message, and said,  Scuse, Sal. Taking a walk.

Sal didnt say a thing. He opened the door, went out through Dekkers and Megs blanketed, dark privacytowel and all.

Ben? Dekker asked.

 S all right, he said, forgot something.

He slipped out to the corridor, around to the main room of the barracks, and around to the phones.

Linked in. Accessed the stations eidat on system level. With a card with a very illegal bit of nailpolish on its edge.

What in hell? Dekker asked when he came through again.

Hey, Meg said. Easy.

He got through the door and Sal didnt ask a single question, not while he folded up, not while he put the card away in its hiding spot behind the panel joint. You grew up in astex territory, you learned about bugs and you developed a fairly sure sense when you might be a target for special monitoring. He didnt honestly think so. But he took precautions and hoped to hell the bugs, if they existed, werent optics.

Most of all he hoped the lieutenant was one of the good guys, because the lieutenant was no fool: the lieutenant knew enough to figure who around here could get into the system and drop an unsigned message in his file. They didnt have ti techs above a 7A in this place. Hed checked that, already.


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Chapter 15
 ^ 
Shouting in Poreys office again. Dekker sat on the bench outside, between a couple of marine guards, and stared at the opposite wall, acutely aware of the traffic in the main corridor, people stealing glances in this directionyou got a feeling for notoriety, and disaster, and you knew when youd achieved it. Wake up to a stand-down and a see-me from Graff, who had nothing to tell him, except that somehow the Aptitudes in his unit were skewed, that they wanted to see Ben and Sal back in Testing, and Graff was due in a meeting with Porey, immediately. Which left him here, in the hall, listening to war going on in the office, and he hoped it didnt aim at Graff. Mutiny in the Shepherd ranks, if that was the caseGraff was the only point of reason in their lives since the disaster of the last test; and personally, he wanted to kill Porey. They told him he was supposed to go fight rebels from a planet clear to hell and gone away from Earth and right now the targets he most wanted were Comdr. Edmund Porey and whoever had screwed up Ben and Sal, if that was what had happened.

Something crashed, inside the office. He tried not to twitch, found his hands locked, white-knuckled. The guards exchanged looks, dead expressionless.

Marines werent anxious to go in there either.

Weights rang back down into the pad, and Meg collapsed on her back on the bench, nerve-dead. Patterns still danced behind her eyelids, but the adrenaline was gone, it was only phosphenes.

Message came from the lieutenant, and Dek had been outright shaking when hed read it. Bad shakes. Thank God Ben had donewhatever Ben had done. Sal was close-mouthed on itbut she had the idea it involved last night, phones, and messages Dek would have highly disapproved.

Weights banged, close to her head. Her eyelids flew open. Mitch was standing over her. Hell of a start, even if he was decorative: the son of a bitch. She had as little to do with Mitch as possible. Ben and Sal had gotten called in to Testing. Dek

Whats this about Dekker getting scrubbed?

Mitch wasnt alone. The other traffic in the gym wasnt casual. A delegation gathered aroundPauli, Franklin, Wilson, Basrami, Shepherds, all of them on her case; Shit, she thought, and sat up, looking for a way to shut this action down. Maybe you better ask the lieutenant. I dunno.

Word is there was a fight last night.

Double shit. Damned thin walls. Wasnt any fight. A discussion. Thats our business.

Pauli said, Discussion that scrubs a crew?

Basrami said, Word is, the lieutenant gave him a mandatory stand-down. The lieutenants been climbing all over Testing. Saitos still there, with Poreys com chief. Now the lieutenants talking with Porey and Deks hanging outside with the guards. Doesnt look arrested, but he doesnt look happy.

More information than shed had. The grapevine in this place was efficient except in her vicinity.

Mitch asked, So whats going on, Kady?

All I know, she said, we got the stand-down before we got to breakfast. They wanted Ben, they wanted Sal in Testing, they wanted Dekker in Poreys office. They didnt want me, so I came here to blow it off.

Come off it, Kady.

Its the truth! I dont know a damned thing except Deks been severely pushing it. Could be a medical stand-downI hope to hell its a medical. Poreys been on his back. He hasnt said, but we screwed a sim, he talked to Porey, and hes run hard since. You want to tell me?

Silence from the guys. Then Mitch said, They giving any of this special tape to him?

Nasty question. Not that I hear. I dont think so.No. Theres been no time like that in his schedule.

Are they going to?

Scary question. Him, they dont need to, do they? He knows what hes doing.

Just asking, Mitch said.

Yeah, she said. Well, whose would they give to him? Tell me that. Five on ten they made the same and only guess she could, and the idea scared hell out of her. They took my mates into Testing. They told Dek report in. They didnt tell me an effin thing. Im either the only one right in the universe or I must be one of the problems. Which shaded closer to her private anxiety than she wanted. She got up, picked up her towel, for the showers. So if you got any news, you owe me.

Nothing, Pauli said. Except a serious concern for the program. And Dekker.

Belters rarely said friend. You didnt say, I care, I love, I give a damn. They wouldnt do that. But they came asking. Even that skuz Mitch. Made her think halfway better of Mitch, and that gave her another cause to worry.

Yeah, she said. Thanks. If I hear anything, either.

The door opened. Graff said, stone-faced, The commander wants to see you.

Yessir, Dekker said.

No questions. Graff was negotiating with an unreasoning, unreasonable son of a bitch and didnt need trouble from another source. He got up and walked in, saluted, and Porey said, all too quietly, You may have had a problem, mister. This whole damn program may have a problem. So I want an answer, I want a single, completely straight answer: If you were second-guessing the Aptitudes, where would you have expected Pollard and Aboujib to fit in the crew profile?

Ens. Pollards a computer tech, theory stuff. He had one sudden chance, maybe, to do something for Ben, which would drop the lot of them down the list, break Megs heart and save all their skins. He debated a split second, then: udc Technical Institute. Id have thought hed be handling the computers.To be honest, sir, Id have thought hed go somewhere up in Fleet Opsthey were going to send him to Stockholm. Hes got

Porey snarled, Weve got enough udc hands in this operation right now. What about Aboujib? Co-pilot?

He didnt know what all this was about. Not enough to maneuver with. Ben taught her numbers. Id expect shes good. Longscan or armscomp. Shes He flashed on Sals frustration with the scan assignment. I dont knowdont know. What she wantsis the fire button. His mind was on what Porey had said about Ben. He thought he might have done Ben harm, bringing in the Stockholm business. He made a desperate, uninvited counter. Sir, I havent got any doubts about Ben Pollard. He went udc because they had his program, but hes Belter. He wouldnt do anything but a hundred percent for his partners.

Porey left a cold, cold silence. He didnt know what he was arguing for or against, or who was on trial. Porey just stared. If, Porey began, and the phone beeped. Porey grabbed up the handset, snarled, This is a conference, damn you and the face went expressionless while Dekker had time to think, Somethings happened

Graff was paying the same kind of attention. Porey said, Procedures. Stat.Estimate, and looked grim as he hung up and stood up. Pods hung.

God. Dekker thought Porey wanted the doorgrabbed for the switch.

Dekker!

I can help, sir

No! Porey said. And there was no argument.

Meg hauled clothes on, still wetdamn sweater hung on an earring. She finessed it loose the painful way and got her head through

Mitch, the skuz, was standing in the locker room door.

She jerked the sweater down. Getting your thrills, Mitch?

Serious talk, Kady. Question. Couple of touchy questions. 

Private, the man wanted. Hell of a way to get it; and time was, Mitch didnt get two seconds, but Mitch didnt look like trouble, Mitch looked like business, and curiosity was killing her. So? Give.

What is their damn hurry with Dek, do you get any feel?

She bit her lip. Shook her head. Neg. No. What are you asking?

Is Ben on our side?

Absolute. No question, and Sal and I fly with him.

Mitch ducked his head, looked up with the straightest eye contact shed ever had out of him. Ben made a phone call last night. Dek got pulled this morning. You know about that?

Yeah. Ben could have slipped it to the lieutenantabout two jumps ahead of me, you want the truth.

That schedule of his. Did he set it? Is it his choice? Or is Porey doing it?

Much as I know its his schedule. It was sensitive territory. She wasnt sure she wanted to discuss any crew business with Mitch, who was Deks competition in this place. But Dek had her scared to hell, that was what she had said to Sal and that was what made her confess now. I can believe Ben might have stopped him. I just hope it didnt land either of them in trouble.

Second touchy question. You apparently arent too damn bad. How much of it do you think is tape?

I was good before I came here, mister.

Mitch held up a hand. No offense. Straight q & atheyre talking about shoving it on the rest of us, I want to know from the ones that knowdoes that damn thing really work?

Sounded like an honest question. Different way to learn, same way you guys learn, what I hear, this Neural Input stuff. I dont know whats the difference, except we trank deeperby what I hear. How could I tell? I dont get the other kind.

Rumor is theyre running you guys up to mission level sims. Theyre saying theyre using you guys for guinea pigs because you came in cold, as far as these boards. That if it works with youwere next and we got no choice. Now theyre hauling Pollard and Aboujib back into Testing? Makes the rest of us damn nervous, Kady.

Made her nervous when he put it that way.

You know anything about Pete Fowler, you ever have anyweird feelings off that stuff?

Im not being him, Mitch, Im not any damn dead guy. Thats not whats going on

He was twenty-nine, he was a good, fast thinker, he was regular for Elly Sandersshe was the longscanner. You want any more? Petes faults? His virtues? I can tell you. He was a nit-picking sumbitch about the checklist

Im telling you I dont know anything about Pete Fowler. I damn sure havent got a fix on Sal and I always was a stickler for doing

Mitch! somebody yelled, out in the sims. They got a pod hung!

Oh, shit, Mitch said, and he was runningshe started running after him, scared as hell, no idea what they could do, why they were goingbut it was somebody she knew in that damned thing, and she moved.

Whats the status? Porey asked, leaning over a techSecurity ops had eight monitors and four of them were black, except for green letters showing core-21, that was the sims area, anybody who worked up there knew that section, and Dekker knew it, made a guess what those black monitors showed before Porey got his answer.

They cut the power, sir, the ops tech said, Chief Jackson got the spin shut down. Cameras are working, theyre on another generator, but all the pods are full crewed and frozen out there til they get power back on.

The core was totally dark, even the access areasrequests for personnel movement going out over com, the same sequence that must have attended his own accident, Dekker thought glumlylike standing off and watching it happen to him.

Do we have a recovery team out there? Porey asked, and the tech answered that they were still trying to organize thatonly way they had to haul you back if a pod had to totally crash was suit up and go out there; the construction workers that formed the rescue squad were coming in from their off hours and from work around the carrier

Too damned long, he said, he didnt care if he was out of turn: I know the systems, sir, Im used to a suit

Youre not going out there, Porey said, and adjusted the com in his ear, scowling, eyes showing the least anxiety while he listened to something elsewhere.  You have one? he asked someone invisible. Suiting now?

Theyd found somebody closer. Dekker drew a controlled breath, then, still wanting to do something; but rescue was evidently getting into motion. Black monitors. No emergency lightsthe fool engineers had put the viewport shutters on the main power. Power was cut, completely, complete black in the chamber, no ventilation in the pod, no heat, no filtration for anybody out there. God hope the mags werent all crashed.

Patch through the suitcom, Porey said. Graff said to the tech at the boards in simulation Control, Give us audio, here. Are we getting anything out of the pod?

We dont get anything. Whole core sections on that generator.

What the hell kind of engineering is that, dammit to bloody hell, what kind of operation do we have here?

An old one, Graff said. Lot of patch-jobs.

Piece of junk, Porey muttered. Nothing moves, does it?

Not the shutters, not the internal lightstheres a requisition to get them on another circuit, but the engineers have found a problem doing that.

Can they power up with the rest of those pods sitting out there?

Should be able to, Graff said, while Dekker kept his mouth shut. Should be able to, once they got the one pod clear. If it didnt, if they were all crashed, everybody was in trouble. Imminent trouble.

One mans not enough out there, he said tautly. Theyve got no locators, those are all killed with the power Sir, in all respect, I know what Im doing

Shut down, Dekker, youre not going up there.

A dim seam of light showed at the edge of one monitorlock door, he figured, on a leech and hand-battery. Audio cut in, unmistakably a suit com, heavy breathing, little else, and a white star appeared in both monitors: suit-spot shining in all that black.

Sim chiefs voice, then: Youre going across the chamber, zenith climb about ninety meters sensor range within

Copy that. Female voice, unexpectedly. Familiar voice that sent a sinking feeling to the pit of his stomach as the star shot off at a fair speed. Scary speed.

Dont hurry it, dont hurry it from the chief. Dammit, slow down.

Meg didnt. Meg was hotdogging it, scaring hell out of him and the sim chiefminer showout, but habitual: a miner knew his distance without his eyes, by reckonings they didnt teach in construction, and she wouldnt miss: blind in the dark, she wouldnt miss: that was the push she was used toand she was counting and calcing.

Shouldnt argue with her, Dekker muttered, sweating it. She knows her rate, shes feeling it tell the chief that.

Is that Kady? Graff asked. Dekker, is that Kady out there?

Yessir.

Get her the hell out of there! Porey said into the mike. This is Comdr. Porey. Get her out of there. Now!

Took a little relaying of instructions. Meg developed a problem with her mike. Didnt fool Porey, didnt fool anybody, but there wasnt a thing Porey could do from here. Meg was closing into sensor range, you could hear the pings on audio and see the rate drop.

Then number two monitor showed a faint haze of detail. Chamber wall and a pod directly in Megs suit spot, hed bet his life on it.

Shes all right, he said, feeling the shakes himself. Sir, she knows her business.

Porey wasnt saying a thing about the transmission difficulties, wasnt giving any orders now, he just muttered, Kadys on notice with me, you make that clear, Mr. Graff.

Yes, sir, Graff said.

Word came from another channel that the Pod Rescue Unit was being deployed. At least some of the rescue squad had gotten there, and was launching the track-guided equipment that could tow the pod.

Meanwhile an engineer was giving instructions and Meg started identifying and freeing up the bolts that released it from its track.

Shit came over the com; and froze his heart.

Whats the matter? the chief asked; but he could see it for himself, the pods number decalnumber three. The pod theyd been scheduled for.

Thats Jamil, he said, to whoever cared, and looked for a chair free. But there wasnt one. Jamil and his guys took our slotsaid they could use the time

Didnt take much calc to find a lighted, open hatch, and Meg beelined for it, braked and took a shaky bent-kneed impact, another showout miner-trick, with a hand-up catch at the rim of the lock to stop the rebound. She cycled the lock on battery power, breath hissing with shiversit wasnt cold coming through the suit, not this fast, it was shock starting to work, in the loneliness of the airlock. Let the rescue crew do the maneuvering with the pru, the chief had said, they wanted her out of there and that lock shut before they powered up the mags and she agreed, she didnt know shit about the tow system: it was on now, it was moving, bound for a pod access lock where meds were waiting, and they werent going to need her unless the mags were definitively crashed.

Moment of intense claustrophobia then, just the ghostly emergency light, then a door opened into a brightly lit ready-room full of guys willing to help with the suit.

She got the helmet off, drew a breath of icy clean air and got a first welcome bit of newspower-up was proceeding, pods were answering; they for sure werent going to need her again out there, and she could unsuit and take the lift out to gravitied levels and the lockers. Good job, they told her, good job, but they were busy and she got herself out of the way, let them tend the suit, unaccustomed luxury for a miner-jock, and boarded the lift out of there.

Slow, slow business in the recovery of the pod, and they could only watch, in 1-deck Security ops. Dekker hung at Graffs back and Poreys, listened to the output from the rescue team on the open speaker.

They were working into dock now, at access 3. Thats copy, he heard a voice say, and flashed on cold, on dark, on inertia gone wild

Enjoy the ride, Dekker

Thats him, he said of a suddenhad everyones attention, and he looked to Graff, who understood what he meant, Graff surely understood.

id that man, Graff snapped, isolate that voice.Mr. Dekker as he headed for the door. Hold it.

Dekker! Porey said atop Graffs order, but hed already stopped and faced them.

I want you to listen, Graff said. I want you to pick out that voice, all the voices that might be involved.

Is he meaning the attack on him? Porey wanted to know, and Graff nodded, leaning over the master com in ops. Yes, sir, thats exactly what he means.Play it back, ensign.

Thats copy, the recording said, among others, and Dekker said with absolute conviction, Yes. That one.

Whos carded to that area right now? Porey asked. Nobodys leaving that area without carding out, hear me?

Yes, sir, the com tech said; and relayed to Fleet Security.

Not everybodys carded in, Graff said. They probably let medics and techs in wholesaleanybody with a security badge

Sir, the tech said, I think Ive got it pinned. That outputs on e-com, Ive got the serial number on the unit.

Track it.

Time to indulge the shakes and the unsteady breathing, alone in the lift. Theyre getting telemetry, Meg heard, on the com track that was probably going out to every speaker in the mast. Four heartbeats. Best news yet. Thank God, she thought, queasy in the steady increase of g against the deep fast dive the car was taking. She clenched her teeth and collected herself, watched the level indicator light plummet until the car came to rest and the door opened on warm air and bright light.

She expected Mitch and a handful of guys; but the room was packed, everybody who could cram themselves in, all wanting news. Four heartbeats, she told them, which they might have heard, she couldnt tell if the com was feeding through, there was so much racket. She wasnt prepared to be laid hold of, wasnt expecting Mitch of all guys to pat her heavily on the shoulder and say how miner-jocks had their useother guys did the same, and all she could get out was a breathless, desperate: Jamil. Jamil took our sim slot anybody seen Dek?

Nobody had. She was shaking, embarrassing herself with that fact, but she couldnt stop the chill now. A big guy whose name she didnt even know threw his arm around her shoulders, hugged her against his side, and yelled out to get a blanket, she was soaked with sweat.

Im all right, she tried to say, but her teeth kept chattering. Seeing that number out there had put a shock reaction into hershe wasnt used to shaking; wasnt used to time to think when she was scared, or, worst, to knowing there wasnt a damned thing she could do personally to help those guys or Dek

The blanket came around her. Tried to kill us, she said between shivers. Wasnt any fucking accident, Dek was supposed to be in that pod That was our slot Jamil took

Sims tech Eldon A. Kent, Graff said, reading the monitor, out of Munich, trained in Bonn

I want a piece of him, Dekker said. God, he wanted it, wanted to pound the son of a bitch so fine the law wouldnt have pieces left to work with. Just let me find him.

Certainly answers the questions about access, Graff murmured, reading over the data on the monitor. Free access to the pods, a lot of the techs let each other through, never mind the rules. Hes Lendler Corp, he comes and goeswhat were you doing up there suited, Dekker? What were you doing with the mission tape?

Piece suddenly clicked into place. Bad memory. Whole chunk of memory. Wanted to look at the tape, just wanted to look at it The disaster sequence. The maneuver Wilhelmsen had failed to make. Damned set piece. They wanted it to work, they kept training us for specifics. I told them that, I

They.

The udc. Villy.

So you went to the ready room, or up to the access?

The ready room. To run it on the machine there. They wouldnt let me in the labs, I was off-duty. I just wanted to look at the sequence

Where did this Kent come in? Porey asked.

While I was running the tape.

Alone?

He shook his head. Guy was with him. I know the face, I cant remember the name

And they came in while you were reading the tape. What did they say?

They said they were checking out the pods, they were looking for some possible problem in the sims. They wanted me to go up to the chamber and answer some questions

Graff asked: Did you suit to fly? Was that your intention?

II hadntno. I just had the coveralls. I hadnt brought a coat.

You suited because of the cold, you mean.

Yes, sir.

You went up there, Porey said. What happened?

They said put the tape in, I did that, they hit me from the back. SaidsaidEnjoy the ride. Sir, I want these guys

Absolutely not, Porey said. You dont go after them. Thats an order, mister.

Commander, theyre up there right now with Jamil and his guys, theyve got their asses to cover

Mr. Dekker.

Theyre with Jamil!

Mr. Dekker, shut up and believe there are reasons more important than your personal opinion. We have a program with problems, a ship with problems, and what happened to you and what happened up there isnt the only thing at issue. Theyre Lendler Corp technicians; and they didnt take a spontaneous dislike to you, do you read that, Mr. Dekker? Lendler Corp has a multitude of Fleet contracts, which has udc contracts, which leaves us with serious questions, Mr. Dekker, does it penetrate your consciousness that there may be issues that have a much wider scope than your need for vengeance or my personal preferences? If things were otherwise, Id turn you loose. As is, you keep your mouth shut, you keep it shut on this and let Security handle it. Well get them. It may take time, but well get them. We want to know whether theres a network, we want to know if theres any damage we dont know about, we want to know if there is a connection to you personally or if you just have incredible luck, do you understand that, Mr. Dekker?

Yessir, he said, past a choking anger. Yessir, I understand that.

Then you see you keep your mouth totally shut about what you know. You dont even tell your crew; and believe me I mean that.Mr. Graff?

Sir.

Escort Mr. Dekker to my office. Im not through with him.

Walk slowly, Graff said, on the way out of ops. Porey was back there on com calling in senior Security, he was well sure: Fleet Police already had the pod 3 access as secured as it could be with medics at work; they had the answer theyd been looking for and the mess only got wider, with tentacles into God knew what, Lendler, any other corporation. You didnt take a highly educated technical worker and suddenly turn him into a saboteur and hand-to-hand murderer, not overnight, you didnt; which meant Kent was other than a peaceful citizen, Kent was skilled and malicious, and somebody in Lendler Corp had gotten him credentials and arranged for him either to get here or to stay here, at the time a lot of Lendler Corp had transferred outPorey was right on this one. They had, as Villy was fond of saying, pulled a string and got a snake. Potential faults in the equipment, faults in the programming, faults in the assignments, and Porey still hadnt closed on the monumental coincidence of his pulling Dekker from the test today in the first place, why hed had sudden misgivings on this day of all days

The message that had turned up in his personal file, with no identifying header or record, damned sure hadnt been a spontaneous generation of the eidat system, and his stomach was increasingly upset, with guilt over the concealment of that security breach, and the conviction exactly who had inserted that messagealong with a cluster of Testing Labs files nobody outside highest security clearances should have been able to access at all.

Bias in the tests, Earth-cultural bias in the Aptitudes, consequently in the choices and reactions trained into the udc and the Shepherd enlisteesa bias that didnt want aggression on the fire-button or command decisions out of the pilots: hed only to run an eye down the questions being asked and the weight given certain answers to see what was happening; and before the accident phone calls had already been flying back and forth between Sol One and b Dock: Porey had already invoked military emergency on Intellitron in as fine a shade of a contract clause as a merchanter could managedemanding access to programs Intellitron had held secret thus far: Pending mission. Medical question. Emergency. Credit Edmund for the nerve of a dockside lawyer and meanwhile, aside from the possibility of active sabotage, they had to wonder how many other examples of misassigned crews they were going to find, they had a clear notion why the udc crews had had problems, and, thanks to Pollard, knew why the whole program might have a serious problemwhich he couldnt, for Pollards sake, confess.

Friendliest Edmund Porey had ever been to him, after hed broken the news and Porey had absorbed it. And, dammit, he didnt want Poreys kind of friendshiphe didnt want Porey deciding he could help Porey look good, and putting in a request for him on staff, God help him, even if it meant a promotion. Not at that price. And it looked that way now, it looked increasingly that way, with no word from his own captain, no evidence Keu was still in charge over at fso.

Be careful, Demas had told him last night. Dont succeed too conspicuously.

Mr. Dekker.

A breath. Yessir.

Coincidence in this instance is remotely possible.

Yes, sir.

You dont believe it.

No, sir. I absolutely dont.

Youre probably asking yourself why you were so luckywhy I pulled you from tests.

Another breath. Maybe Dekker hadnt gotten that far. Maybe Dekker was still tracking on the past, pulling up damaged memorymaybe Dekker was thinking of revenge, or Porey, or the multitudinous accesses corporate connivance could infiltrate that a Fleet pilot wasnt educated to suspect

The reason I did pull youwe found a bias in the Aptitudes. Im telling you something thats classified to the hilt, understand. If it gets to the barracks the wrong way, with no fix, it could affect performance. Fatally. You understand me? Were on a knifes edge here, right now. We dont need loose talk. On any topic.

A worried glance. Yessir.

Im telling you this because I suspect one of your crew made the discovery and communicated it to me, secretly, which is also not for general consumption, and when the commander briefs you, dont let him know you know eitherhow I heard could bring one of your crew before a court martial, do I make myself absolutely clear on that?

Yessir. Dekkers voice was all but inaudible.

The public story has to be that, having experience with this ship, were going to be re-evaluating certain crews for reassignment

Break crews? Is that what were talking about?

Damnable question. Touchy question, considering the Wilhelmsen disaster. He paused in the corridor short of the marine guards outside Poreys office, outside their audio pick-up, he hoped, or their orders to eavesdrop on an officer. Not by fiat. Im asking for any crews who might want assignments re-evaluatedin the light of new data. No break-up of existing crews unless theres a request from inside the crew. We recognize, believe me, we recognize the psychological investments you have.

Why in hell Dekker caught a breath, asked, in bewildered, betrayed tones: Why didnt you catch it before this?

Mr. Dekker, when we began this program, in an earlier, naive assumption of welcome here, we trusted the udc to know Sol mindsets better than we did. We were absolutely wrong. We didnt understand the prejudice involved, against the people we most needed. And your crew is the most foreign to their criteria. More so than the Shepherds. Maybe that explains how it turned up with your group. But what Ive told you cant go any further. Hear me?

Dekker drew a shaky breath. Yessir.

I have to take your word, Mr. Dekker. Or, understand mecourt-martial Ben Pollard.

Im giving you a two-day stand-down, Mr. Dekker, Porey said, the friendliest Dekker had ever seen the man, the quietest hed ever imagined him. It still didnt include warmth. I dont want you near the labs for forty-eight hours.

Graff said, from the side of the room, Id recommend longer.

Frown from Porey, who rocked back in the desk chair. We havent got longer. You have a mother a great deal in the news which you know. You may not know theres a special bill proceeding through a jlc committee, that requires the military to surrender personnel indicted for major crimes, are you aware of that, Mr. Dekker?Does that concern you?

A complete shift of attack. Another assault on memory. Sometimes he thought he lost things. My mother, sir

Hes not gotten the headlines, Graff said. His schedules been non-stop for days

Your mother, Mr. Dekker, has a battery of very expensive peacer lawyers, your mother is a cause thats burned a police station in Denmark and gotten a MarsCorp chartered jet grounded in Dallas on a bomb threatdo you know that?

No, he didnt. He shook his head and Porey went on,

The whole damned planets on its ear, theres a lot of pressure on the legislative committee, and youre essential personnel, mister. Your crew is an essential, high-tech experiment that through no particular fault of yours, has taken a direct hit from a damnably persistent woman and a nest of lying political fools in the udc , who are in bed and fornicating with the politicians who appointed them to their posts, the same politicians who are fornicating with the shadow parliament and the peacers in Geneva. That bill is a piece of currency in this game. We have to avoid you becoming another piece of currency in this affair, a damned media circus if they extradite you, and that means getting anything done with this project has assumed a sudden certain urgency, do you follow me?

He saw the lieutenant out of the tail of his eye. Graff wasnt looking at him. Hadnt told him God, how much else had Graff kept from him?

Porey said: Were talking about a fault in the Aptitudes, and I want your well-considered opinion here, Mr. Dekker, whether you want a go-with as-is, or whether you personally want to make a personnel switch. Both your crewmembers are demonstrably capable in the seats theyve trained forbut capable is a fragile substance in a Hellburner crew, you understand me?

Yes, sir, he managed to say. Extremely well. Pollard and Aboujib?

Exactly.

Can I talk to them?

thump of Poreys hand on the desk. Youre the pilot! Gut decision! Which?

An answer fell out. Id ask them, sir.

Correct answer, Graff muttered, looking at the floor.

Hard to argue with Porey. Hard to think in Poreys vicinity. But there was Graff. Graff agreed with him Graff handed him secrets that could mean Graffs own career; and Graff had failed his promise to tell him if there was news from Sol One

Porey said, Then well put the decision up to them, since thats where you want it. No preferences. Youve lost one crew. Lets see if this ones worth the investment. Meanwhile, Mr. Dekker, do some thinking about your own responsibilitieslike executive decisions. Do you make executive decisions, Mr. Dekker?

Yessir.

Do you remember your instructions, regarding what youve seen and heard?

Yes, sir.

What are they?

Silence. Sir.

A hesitation. A cold, cold glance, as if he were a morsel on Poreys plate. Then a casual wave of the hand. Dismissed. Two-day stand-down.

Yessir. Anger choked him of a sudden, out of what reserve of feeling he wasnt sure. But it wasnt at Graff. He refused at gut level to believe Graff had deliberately lied to him. The service had. The out-of-reach authorities had, and not for the first time in his life. He saluted, turned and reached for the door.

Mr. Dekker, Graff said, from the side of the room. Excuse me, sir.Mr. Dekker, outside, a moment.

Yessir. He wasnt enthusiastic. He didnt want to talk. But Graff followed him outside, between the guards.

Mr. Dekker, I failed a promise.Do you want the information, on your mothers whereabouts?

He nodded. Couldnt talk. He was acutely conscious of the guards on either hand; and Graff steered him well down the corridor, toward the corner, before he stopped. Your mother is on Earth at the momenteverything funded by the Civil Liberty Association, as far as we can tell.

Why?

The peace movement finds the case usefulthe Federation of Man, for startersas I warned you might happen; there is a financial connection between certain of these organizations, the cra, the Greens and a number of other organizations

It doesnt make sense! Shes not political!

Im afraid its rather well left the original issue. Its the power of the ec thats in question. Thereve been demonstrations at the Company offices in Bonn, in Orlando, Tokyo, Paris

More and more surreal. I dont believe this

Theres a great deal of pent-up resentment against the Company, economic resentments, social resentmentso Saito tells me: mass population effect: the case came along, it embodied a concept of Company wealth and power against a helpless worker. The Company is understandably anxious to defuse the situation; theyve offered a settlement, but concession seems to have encouraged the opposition. Salazars plane was forced to land in Dallas because of a bomb threat, thats what the commander was talking about: whether that was a peace group or a random lunatic no one knows. I cant overstate the seriousness of whats happening downworld.

Shes never been on Earth. She cant have any idea whats going on

We certainly wish she had decided against going down.

Did she ever call back?

No: my word on that, Mr. Dekker, I swear to you. Most probably her lawyers advised her against it. Most probablyconsidering who funds them.

Ive got to call her! Ive got to talk to her

Reaching her, now, through the battery of bodyguards and security around her, on EarthI earnestly advise against it. I dont think you can get through that screen. If you do its almost certainly going to be monitored, very likely to be played back on the news, by one side or the other in this affair.

God. Where is sheright now, where is she?

Bonn, as of this morning. Mazian is in the same city. There are peacer riots and demonstrations. The news services are crawling all over the city. If you want to communicate with her, you just about have to do it through news releases, and its not the moment for it. Were imminently concerned about this extradition bill getting through. We dont want the maneuvering going public, and it could if you make a move. One believes the legislators arent stupid. No one is spelling out to the media what effect the bill will have, no one is saying outright that its aimed at you in specific, incredibly the news services havent put it together yet or dont even know about it. Its all proceeding in committee, so far; Salazar publicly making speeches on the fear of some criminal element with a finger on the fire button. Earth is extremely worried about that point.

Do they know what we are? Do they understand this ship?

The general public knows now its no missile project: no one believed we could maintain cover after the hearings, yes, its leaked, what it issenatorial aides, company representatives, nobodys sure exactly what; but were completely public; and the program, with what weve found out in the last three hours, is in such disarray we cant take another round of hearings. The coalition that put command of this facility in our hands is extremely shakyas I understand it. If political reputations are threatened by the wrong kind of publicity, certain key votes could shiftand we could be massacred in the legislative committee. That, aside from your personal welfare, is why the Company and Fleet Command are extremely anxious to stop that bill; certain citizen lobbies are very fearful of wildcat attacks from the Fleet provoking a military strike at Earth; and even knowing its a certain faction in MarsCorp pushing that bill, certain key senators desperately need a success in this program to play against it or they cantpoliticallystand the heat of standing against the bill.

What do they want from us? Im not a criminal! Jamil and his crew arent criminals! I want to know whos trying to kill me that doesnt fucking care if they get my crew along with me! Nobodys going to do a damned thing about those guys that did this, are theyare they, sir?

Keep your voice down. The guards have audio. We dont even know at this point that it wasnt a simple mechanical. Those systems have been under heavy use. But Ill grant you we dont think thats the case. Thats one problem. And Ill tell you between us and no further, I had a real moment of doubt at the outset whether to make an issue of the Aptitudes with your crew or let it ride the way it was. The temptation to let it stand and save this program one more major setback was almost overwhelmingbut I know, and I think you know, this system is operationally too sensitive and strategically too critical to accept half right. I hate what happened to Jamil. I wish Id ordered a general stand-downbut hindsights cheap. As it is, the pod sims are in stand-down, weve got a question of other sabotage possiblewhat youve given us is very valuable; but were running short of time to develop a case, and were going to have to find answers for a pack of legislators, its dead certain. Right now I dont want you to think about any of this. I want you to take the stand-down, get a nights sleep, and remember what you know is dangerously sensitive. You understand me on that point?

Yessir.

I have confidence in you, Graff said, turned and walked him back to the marine guards, Corporal. One of you take Mr. Dekker where he wants to go. Get him what he needs.

I suggest its a beer, Mr. Dekker. I strongly suggest its a beer. Tell galley I said so. Check with me if they quibble.

Yes, sir, the marine said. This way, sir.

Beer, sir, the guard said, had even gotten it for him and brought it to him at a table back in the galley, quiet refuge in a flurry of cooks and a clatter of pans around themand in consideration of the Rules around this place, and politeness, and the damned regulationsDekker shoved the kids hand back across the table, with: Sip, at least. Where I come fromfairs fair.

Nossir, the corporal said, and shoved the beer into his hand. We can, any evening, and you guys cant, and, damn, you guys earn it.

Misted him up, hed had no expectation of that, and he hid it in a sip of beer. Guy he didnt know. Young kid who was going to ride that carrier out there with two thousand other guys and get blown to hell if he made a mistake.

Guys name was Bloomfield, T.

And if Graff could have done anything personal for himhe was grateful to the lieutenant for Cpl. Bloomfield, who didnt know him, had no personal questions, didnt chatter at him, just let him sip his beer. He felt the alcohol go straight for his bloodstream and his head: after months of abstinence he was going to be a seriously soft hit. He thought about going back to barracks and catching some sleep, he thought about his crew and Jamil and the guys he knew: and he wanted quiet around him, just quiet, no one to deal with, and when they got to the changes they were going to make in assignmentsthat wasnt going to happen.

He wondered where Meg was, most of all, finally said to Bloomfield, You have a com with you. You think you guys could locate a female about my height, red hair, shave job, Fleet uniform?

That one, Bloomfield said reverently. And kept any remark he might have to himself. Yessir. And got on the com and said, This is Bloomfield. Anybody on the com know where the redhead is?

Remarks came back, evidently. Bloomfield listened to something on the earplug, struggled for a sober face, and asked, looking at him: You want her here, sir?

He managed a laugh. Tell her its Paul Dekker asking. Cuts down on casualties.


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Chapter 16
 ^ 
You knew it was bad, Mitch put it, and trez correctly so, Meg thoughtwhen they gave the whole barracks a beer pass, and brought cans and chips into the sacred barracks to boot. Pod sims were severely crashed, mags could be down a week, if sabotage wasnt the cause, as was the running speculation in the barracks: in which case, plan on longer.

Beer helped the mood, though: the ping-pong game got highly rowdy, a couple of armscompers not quite in their best form, but at least everybody was laughing. Word from hospital was guardedly optimisticthe meds werent talking about life and death with Jamil and the guys now, but how long theyd be in hospital, about the percentage they could expect to come back and how soon. Jamil was conscious, Trace was. In the ruckus around the table, nobody questioned Ben and Sal slipping late into barracks. Ben just settled down soberly on Deks other side with: Heard the news. Bad stuff, while Sal went for beers.

Meg pulled them out, Dek said. Got to them fast as anybody alive could. And the sim chief was on fuckin duty this time, didnt have to stop to get fuckin Tanzers fuckin authorization, he just braked the other mags and cut the power, was all. The worst parts the stop. I can tell you that.They go on and switch you guys, or is somebody going to tell me what they did, or what?

Dek had had considerably more than one beer, not a happy drunk, but direct.

Yeah, they switched us. Damned right they did.

At which Dek looked at Ben and Meg reckoned it was a good thing Sal came back with the beers.

Dek asked: Why in hell didnt you tell me?

Ben took his beer and Meg held her breath. Ben said:

Because they couldve said no deal. And you already knew.

I didnt know.

Yes, you did. Give me armscomp, hell, I dont want the guns whyd they give me the guns? Im a numbers man. So Sal said, Want to trade? and I said, You friggin got it, give me the comp and Ill get you the fire-tracks 

Bullshit, Ben. Deks voice wobbled of a sudden. What are they going to do about it, then?

Like he didnt know. Like he hadnt told her, in a couple of minutes during which Cpl. Bloomfield had been calling the hospital, checking on Jamil.

Come on, cher. Sal squatted down with her beer and patted Dek on the knee. Screw the regs. Bens the numbers, Bens always been the numbers

Ben said, Armscomp and longscans integrated boards, whats the difference, whos punching up, whos punching in? They ran us switched, as a pair, didnt have an iota of trouble with the simSals got to get the feel for the ordnance, but shes on it

Its not a free lunch, Ben.

Close as. I got my hands on that system, Dek-boy, I got a system runs like its friggin elegant

Ben was in serious lust. Dek looked at him. Dek was going to hit him, Meg thought, poised to grab. But Dek didnt.

Sudden quiet from the ping-pong match. Rapid fall-off of noise from the door inward, and she looked, where, God, it was udc uniforms incoming, senior guys; and the lieutenant was with them. Guys were coming to their feet. They did.

Villanueva Dek murmured. The redoubted Captain Villy, then.

At your ease, Graff saidofficial voice, that. Something sure as hell was up. Nobody moved. Personal message first, Graff said. Jamil says hes coming back. Says he and Dekker are in a race.

Fly-by was a show-out, but, God, that was good news: he was no cheap write-off and neither was his crew. Cheers at that. A faint laugh out of Dek.

As you know, Graff continued, the mag interfaces took damage in shut-down, repair crews can handle that but the larger question is what caused the pod to hang, and we are not putting crews back into the moving sims until we can pinpoint a cause and ensure operational safety. This does not, however, mean the program is at stand-down.

Whole room must be breathing in unison, Meg thought. Good on everything theyd heard so far. But there were the udc uniforms.

Just hope to God they arent putting us back under Tanzer.

Lab-sims will continue as scheduled. We have also made selection of Fleet crews for a carrier operations exercise

Test run, Dekker muttered, at her side. Translation from a lot of sources, to the same effect.

starting within the hour. Quiet settled. Quickly. In the meanwhile we are taking steps to integrate Fleet and udc instructional and operational personnel. You will see udc personnel in Fleet areas, eventually in barracks: on which matter I want to say something specific

Rising murmur of dismay. The lieutenant waited, frowning.

There was an incident reported to me, out of rec-hall, an attempt from a udc crew to meet this company halfway, which was reciprocated with good grace. As a pilot myself, I appreciate the criticality of operational confidence in fellow personnellets be blunt: confidence of that kind was a casualty of the Wilhelmsen run.

But what went wrong with this program does not serve this program; and when youre heads-up and hands-on, what doesnt serve this program doesnt serve you or the carrier youre defending. I dont have to spell out to you the reality for the future: that you will be working with udc crews, whose lives will be equally at risk, including the lives of personnel aboard your carrier. Competition is well and good where it brings out extreme effort. But the relationship between the four core crewmembers of this ship will be extended eventually to the complete thirty-member support team aboard, who will rely on core crew: in the same way, a carriers four Hellburner crews will have to rely on each other, and on that carrier and its internal support crew, for survival. There is no more serious business. Those of us from merchanter background have never quarreled with your style or your customsand we refuse to quarrel with the personal customs of our sister service out of the inner system. Whatever makes a crew work, is that units business and only their business: thats the position weve always taken. Thats the position we expect you to take now, because when youre out there in the wide dark, friends, your personal style, and whether youre from Sols inner or outer system, doesnt make a damn bit of difference. The reliance you have on the crews making up your defensive envelopethats all youve got. Those are your brothers and your sisters. And the uniform will not matter.

Murmur from the barracks, worried murmur.

Graff cut it off with: The names of the pilots and got instant quiet.  of the three crews selected, given alphabetically: Almarshad Dekker Mitchell. Those crews: pack immediately and board ecs4 within the hour; your quarters in this barracks will remain in your name, sacrosanct. You have no mass limit for this particular run: the carriers engines will not notice your handweights or your case of soft drinks, for that matter; but remember that all electronics aboard must be listed with the duty officer, and alcohol and medications of any sort must be dispensed by carrier staff only.

Other crews will keep listed schedules. Thats all, guys, have a good evening. Well have a further briefing after breakfast call.

Lieutenant! Mitch called out. Is that as intest flight?

Its as in keeping this program going, Mr. Mitchell. Youll get more specific briefings after youre aboard. Thats all I can tell you. I wont be making this trip. Youll be under the orders of Comdr. Edmund Porey, specifically. Good bye, good luck, good outcome.

Porey! Sal breathed.

What in hell are they doing? Ben muttered, which was what she was thinking. Theyre crazed, Dek said, and called out, Lieutenant! started across the room.

And stopped, still, arms at his sides, just stopped, for no reason she could see. The lieutenant was still standing there, looking straight at him with a worried expression, but Dek didnt ask his question and the lieutenant didnt give his answer.

Shit! Sal said, and went for Dek before she had the brains to, as Graff walked out with Villanueva, and guys were coming up and accosting her and Sal and Ben with congratulationsnoisy and excited gatherings around Almarshad and Mitch and their guys, speculation flying upbeat: the whole program had crashed on them, and now everything was moving faster than anyone thought.

Dek. She got his attention and he looked sanesane and a little shaken. Ben overtook and asked: What are we doing in this sort-out?

We have to pack, Dek said for an answer, which meant, to an old Company hand, We cant discuss it here.

Another time-glitch, the stations smooth pale surfaces to the carriers spartan corridors, foam steel and color codes, lights that worked only when there was presence, hand-lines rigged every which way, and deja-vu on every surface. The rigging crew had been kind enough to supply a hand-line with a color cue and Dekker followed it, herding the duffle along, the head of his little column, Mitchells group and Almarshads. Long, long way from the entry to the rider loft: the lifts wouldnt take them where they wanted to go so long as the carrier core was crashed, and the rules wouldnt let you do miner-tricks, not on Poreys ship, he had that by experience. You slogged it the hard way, and expected sore arms.

Ships officer was ahead, check-in point. Welcome aboard, they got; and a copy apiece of the ships internal regs; and the standard information on alcohol, volatiles, explosives, electronics, and live animals or plants.

Inner perimeter take-hold for power-up  rang out on the speakersinner perimeter didnt mean them; which he knew, but not everyone seemed sure of on the instant; and the petty officer said, Cores going to engage for you. You can take the lift, captains compliments.

Captains compliments. He took a breath, exchanged glances with his crew, thinking, Bloody hell because extravagant gestures from Porey were highly suspect. The man liked causing pain: hed met what hed taken for examples of the type, but cheap talent, compared with Poreys position and intelligence and potential. He didnt want to be on this ship, he didnt want to be under Poreys command, even feeling as he did now that Porey was a competent commanderhe knew in his mind that they were aboard for security reasons, not because of the test; and they werent mission candidates, hed said as much to his crew in the privacy of their quarters, but the way this was starting out, this move on Poreys partwas Porey in games mode. You bet your life on your nerves and your skill, and they had Porey jinking like this to start with, yanking them out, putting udc into the barracks when he damned well knew they were worried about udc security? A dozen guys with combat nerves, trained to deal with this kind of thing, and what in hell was Porey up to, making maneuvers on the ones trying to make his program work?

Snake, he thought as he punched the lift call. Its politics, its damned, stinking politics, thats what it smells likehes afraid Ill talk, he wants me where he can control com, where I can have another accident if it comes to thatmanll do anything, nothing in him you can get hold of, nothing gets to his eyes except when people squirmhe enjoyed it this morning, when he knew hed got a hit in, and I hadnt done anything, hes that kind

The siren blasted the thirty second warning. Surreal sound, one hed heard a handful of times in his life, when hed ridden out from the Belt.

Helluva surprise, Almarshad muttered. Nobody sets foot on this carrier but the commanders own staff, what any of us have heard, not even the lieutenant. Dont they trust each other or what?

Almarshad wasnt thinking about surveillance. Wilson wasnt, either, who said, Wish the lieutenant was going, as if Porey wouldnt eavesdrop. Dekker felt a cold fear, of a sudden, that not all of them might come back down this particular lift again. Mitchs crew and Almarshads: the mission team and the backup, that was the order of things he could see, and he had a sudden claustrophobic sense he couldnt go through with this, couldnt watch this, couldnt stand another watch in mission control while something went wrong

The deck vibrated with the engagement of the core. The lift door opened to let them in.

Motion instead of thinkinga moment of dumping thoughts and negotiating the door, null-g. He got himself and his crew and their baggage in with two other teams, grabbed the take-hold in the corner next the lift controls and stared at the panel, read the instruction and warning stickers on monofocus and didnt blink, because he could lose himself right now, lose where he was, and when this was, and what he had to do

G increasing. Hold on, he said, as the indicator approached the loft exit. The car hit the interface, jolted into lock with the personnel cylinder. The door opened

Wood and sleek plastic. Carpeted burn-deck

Looked like the Shepherd club on R2. Like exec offices.

My Gawd, Meg breathed at his back. Is this us or Poreys cabin?

Its us, he said in shock, its evidently us.

Wasnt real wood, it was synth, but it was good synth. There was a tended bar, an orderly with trays of food and null-capped liquorthere were more orderlies to take their duffles and carry them away

Shee-it, came from Sal. And Ben:

Class stuff, here.

Reality was completely slipping on him. He gave up his baggage to the orderly who caught a look at his nametag and took the duffle awayno wide spaces, the whole huge loft was diced up into safer, smaller spaces, by what he could see from his vantage; it hadnt been like this the last time hed been aboard. Bare girders on the ecs5no paneling, no carpet, no interior walls and no orderly with cheese and crackers and margaritas and martinis. The Shepherds were right in their element: Mitch said, All right, and moved right in on the bar; and Ben didnt blink, Ben had been living the soft life on Sol One; Meg and Sal had been with the Shepherds

But he hadnt. This wasnt real. Not for him. It wasnt ever supposed to be for him there were people who had luxuries and people who didnt have, by some rule of the universe, and he couldnt see himself in a place like this

As you were. Poreys voice, deep and live. He looked around at the outer-corridor entry, as the commander walked in. Porey strolled past Mitch to the bar and picked up a cheese and cracker, popped it in his mouth. Nobody moved. Nobody thought to salute. It was too bizarre, watching Porey walk a tour of the very quiet area.

We had a problem. We still have a problem, gentlemen.Ladies.We have sims downagain. We have one of our best teams downagain. This wasnt your fault. Fixing it, unfortunately, is your responsibility. Seeing you have time and opportunity to focus on the job at handis mine. Ive pulled you out here, and I am pulling this carrier out of station. Our final Hellburner prototype is mated to the frame, were proceeding with deliberate speed, weve advised the necessary powers that there will be a test, and we are, frankly, using the time to make our final selection. Three units will be using traditional lab sims, which we can manage aboard this ship, and using sims in the actual prototype, daily, shift after shift. Mr. Dekkers unit will be using something different in addition, which we are watching and evaluating. Selection will be solely on the basis of scores and medical evaluations.

Alcohol is not a prohibition during this watch. It will be available from time to time as schedules permit; but I suggest you not have a hangover in the morning: schedule will start with orientation to the library, the loft, the prototype

About which, remember you people are the best of the besta carriers survival and the accomplishment of its objectives is in large part your mission. You will live very well here, as you can see: core crews and technicians will occupy these quarters, with adequate staff to assure your undivided attention to your duty, which is solely the operation of your craft, the protection of your carrier and the achieving of strategic and tactical objectives. Additionally, privilege is extended in special facilities to your maintenance personnel, your library research technicians, and your communications and analysis personnelyou will sit at the top of a pyramid of some seven hundred staff and crew, with information gathering and processing facilities interfaced and cross-checked with the nerve center of the carrier itself. Everything you need. Anything you reasonably request. And, yes, tactical and targeting decisions will be part of your responsibility, in consultation with the captain of this ship. You will learn to make those decisions in close cooperation with carrier staff, decisions which were not, until now, your responsibility. Command believes your expertise in gravity-bound interactions and object location is an invaluable resource; and you will no longer receive cut-and-dried mission profiles. You will construct them yourselves. This is a policy change reflecting a change in the source of policy: how long we can maintain that control of policy rests directly on your successful completion of this mission.

In the meanwhile, enjoy yourselves, ask the staff for anything within reason, and consult your individual datacards for further briefings. The second half of the cracker and cheese. Porey walked slowly toward the exit. And stopped. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. Ladies.

Scared hell out of a guyPorey, as Meg would put it, doing courtesy.

Shit, Ben said, closing ranks with him and Meg; and Sal said, close after, So thats Porey up close.

Thats Porey, Dekker said.

Po-lite chelovek, Meg said. Nice place, and all You wouldnt ever think it, would you? Son of a bitch.

A massacre, a slaughter of the innocent. Graff braced his finger against his lips, watched the vid in dismay, the crowd, the peacers shouting, the blond woman with the stringing hair looking distractedly left and right over the crowd like something trapped. Reporters asked, Is your son the model theyre basing this tape on? Are you in communication with him? Ingrid Dekker shook her head in bewilderment, saying, I dont know. I dont have anything to do with him, nothing he did has anything to do with me its never had anything to do with me

God.

He sat there, watching the alien scene, steps of some ornate building, a cathedral, they said, in London, the placards and banners, the sheer mass of human beings

 bas la Compagnie, they were yelling. Down with the ec.

And elsewhere on Earths life-rich surface, a udc spokesman was claiming that the attitudes of the rab movement were infiltrating the Fleet, that the real aim was to disarm Earths local forces, that the Earth Company was attempting to use the Fleet and the whole construction push in the Belt to take political control of the udc and establish a world dictatorship

Disaster. Utter political disaster.

The tape is the damning thing. Someones given out details. Someone in a position to know what were doing

Saito said, Dont discount Tanzer. The udc has those records at their disposal, a lot of damaging data. We had to accept the udc structure in place, and after the takeover, we knew it was a bomb waiting to go off.

What side are they on, Com, for Gods sake? Do they think its a bloody game were playing?

Their power is in question. Their sight has unquestionably shortened. The question whether or not theyre in control of the ec or whether the ec is in control of Earths policyits a very large, a very sensitive, issue in this system. The ec has enormous power, a constituency spread over the stations and the refineries and worlds outside this system. And we outsiders only know the ec. But there are governments, many governments on Earth, that consider the situation out there solely the ecs war.

But it is the ecs war. Do any of us doubt its the ecs war? The ecs cursed emigration restrictions created the mess, they motivated the dissidents to move out, they insisted on micromanaging at lights distance. Every stupid decision they ever compromised their way into created this war, but the fact is something very foreign is coming here, thats the point. Theyre worried about tape-training off a rab model because the rab movement is foreign? The rab isnt azi. The rab isnt designed personalities. The rab isnt an expansion into space so remote we dont know what may come out of it or what in hell theyre going to provoke Belters are foreign? They should worry about me, Com. Im foreign. Im more alien than anything theyve ever met!

Maybe they do worry. Maybe thats what that mob in Geneva is really saying. Give us back our control over things. Make it stop. Make it the way we always thought it was.

It never was. Not for one moment was the universe the way they imagined.

Of course it wasnt. But they thought they knew. They thought they controlled it all. Now they know they dont. And that poor womanis the symbol of their outrage.

Alyce Salazar has to be the ecs greatest internal liability. Why in hell do they go on letting her take the offensive?

Principally because Mars wants its independence. Because Mars has gotten quite different, quite alien from Earth. Thats what Ive turned up on the Salazars.

Cyteenization?

Something like. Something like the Beltwith nostalgic conservatism as the engine, instead of the radical reform that drove the rab to the Belt. They cling to an Earth that never existed. Theyre the pure article, more Earther than Earth ismaintaining the true opinion, the true Earthly tradition. Never mind the outbackers are eccentric as they come. The corporate management runs the government, quite conservative, quite protective of their personal interests and their family influence.

I thought that was illegal.

It is. But its the driving force in Martian societywhos in whose camp. Understanding what the daughters desertion meant to Alyce Salazarsimplistically, face-saving has to be a large part of her motive, by what weve turned up. The girl escaped her mothers authority by literally slipping through customs and eluding her mothers personal security: that was one blow to the Salazar corporate image; more extravagantly, she embarrassed her mother by dying, quite publicly, quite firmly associated with Belter rab in a fullscale Company disaster. The daughter was clearly a dynastic hope on her parta bid to extend Salazars influence into another generation. A lot of Salazar alliances were built on that assumption.

Which had to be revised at the daughters death.

Which to a Martian corporate, was a major disaster. A threat to her immediate control. Its radicalized the Salazar influence: shescertain people think, calculatedlyoffended certain elements that oppose the Company. The consensus Im getting from intelligence is shes not mad, she calculatedly created a cause and an opposition to force the ec itself down her path in a move to come out of this more powerful than she was. Thats what were dealing with. Shes maneuvering for power equal to the ec presidentand the ec so far is paralyzed, because of whos backing her. They cant betray the conservatives in Bonn, or it erodes a structure theyve built up over decades. The conservatives there are in fear for their lives over the radical resurgence. And that promotes Company hardliners, like Bertrand Muller. Muller is for the war, incidentally. He wants us to recover Cyteen.

My God.

He calls it a colony. What do you want? Hes ninety years old, he formed his current opinion on his fortieth birthday, and he says the Company police who fired on the rab were defending civilized values.

Were in the hands of lunatics.

Of financiers. Far worse.


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Chapter 17
 ^ 
Hit it, hit it, hit it

Breathless dive down the handlines for the seats, one, two, three, four in place, switches up

Launch. Surreal burst of static while the screens and the v-hud spieled numbers and lines

Shit! from Ben. You couldnt cure himor Sal; and there wasnt a miracle, theyd screwed the first run, the second and the third, but damn, Meg thought with half a neuron to spare, it felt better of a sudden wasnt garbage she was screening, it was starting to shape itself

Objective wasnt there, God, intelligence gaffe

Time to sweat. Ben was on it, logicking his way for the current location. Dek said, What the hell? and Ben confirmed a fire-zone. Virtual ordnance blasted out into virtual reality and she figuredyes!

Got it, got it, got it

Watch that mother!

Fan of junk in the carrier path. Dek repositioned and gave Sal the window on a roll to the main objective, and Meg input him the latest calc in long vision, new definition to the hostile fire-paths he was ready to see, more precise positions she was inputting to Sal and to him.

Feeling too good, too damn good, you didnt cut a rip like that, couldnt sustain it

Couldnt get overconfident, the damn sim kept throwing them targets and you couldnt believe you were getting them, effin sim had to be playing with them

Couldnt go on this wayshe was the only one in the crew who had time to worry, worry was the job description, taking the long view, mission objective, degree of criticality, sight and target, sight and target, priority was seen to, ride home couldnt be this

Shit!

Whole list of hits. It had felt too good all the way through, and Dekker shook his head, looking at the outcome, all of them gathered around the table, getting the same news. Objective achieved, path cleared, flock of surprises locked and taken out

Too soft, Ben muttered. Too soft, this thing. I dont like it. Its not supposed to fall down like this

Dekker rocked his chair on its hinge, propped a knee against the table and surveyed his crew, the chart-table with its windowed displaysnot the stuff theyd worked with in the station, not the hard plastic chairs and the scrub-boards and the antique display system: anything they wanted, Porey said, and for himself he still had crises of disbelief.

And moments of slipping realitylike this one, that showed him faces he knew with reactions that just werent wrong Pete and Elly and Falcone riding in the cockpit with them an hour ago, if he wanted to be spooked about it; but that wasnt really what had happened: the carrier had that tape lab down the corridor, the way the carrier had a lot else it hadnt let out, and his crew spent hours there, but they didnt drug deep anymore, they didnt need to, that was the story from the tape-techs. Done was done and their sessions were simply reaffirming the synched reactions, making sureMeg saidthey didnt pick up any bad habits in live practice

Live practice. Hell of a way to word it, considering. They ran the sims in the prototype itself up to four hours a day, its v-hud and instruments linked realtime to the carrier boards and the sims library, thanks to what Ben called the effin difference between the udc s eidat and the Fleet Staatentek. Ben seemed personally vindicated in thatwhat it all meant, he wasnt sure, but it ran.

And they did, not the first time, damned sure, the screw-up had been what Meg called egregious and Sal called words hed never heard. Until, this sim-run

This run, he looked at the result and the fact Ben had psyched that relocated target right and laid the probability fan right over the son of a bitch, dead centerthat was a fluke, but Ben swore hed had a good hunchwhich was what Elly had used to say. Same words. That was a spook-out, too; but it was another fluke. The cockpit wasnt haunted and his crew didnt see spooks in the mirror. He slept with Meg with no illusions it was Pete Fowler, hell if, Meg would say. You didnt confuse one with the other

And that still wasnt what worried him. It was what Ben said, it wasnt supposed to fall down this easy. They were out here on no other reason than keeping him away from the media, he told himself that once a day and he managed to relax and worry about Mitch and Almarshad, who were the ones in jeopardystill catching glitches; and the crew who was dogging it and trying to come up from a scratch and a couple of total disasters pulled a hundred percenter?

Hed thought he knew the answers, hed eased off, kicked back, taken it for granted he was just going to steer while everything was going to go to hell and they started handing him stuff that fit together.

Adrenaline had come up, hold-it-steady had become tracking-on, this last run; he was still hyped and on his edge and he hadnt been this alive down to the nerve-ends sinceSince hed screwed the sim. You knew all along something was wrong with our set-up, Ben kept insisting. And by comparison, now it wasnt wrong, and he couldnt sit still and couldnt help remembering how it felt to be a hundred per cent On, and right

With a crew he cared about, dammit, more than hed ever cared about human beings in his life, and too damn many deaths and too many lost partners, with a chance to make runs theyd plotted, the way the udc hadnt let them do it, and that perfect run lying on the table saying Cant do it twice. Complete fluke. Cant pull it off again System cant be that perfect. Somethings wrong.

His gut was in knots and his suspicion began to be, in two blinks of an eye and the work of an overhyped brain, that it could be working because his team had come in with miner-experience, something the lofty Shepherd types with their fancy tech hadnt had, or 

Or the tape off his dead partners worked, and Porey hadnt given up when theyd had to downgrade the crew to basicsit wasnt basics anymore. Theyd either pushed the sim to the limitor it had lied to them. And he didnt put that past Porey, he didnt put anything political past Porey, if he wanted to prove something to some committee in charge of finance

They were on the damned list, that was what, they always had been, that son of a bitch had jerked him sideways and just kept going with his crew. What was it, a confidence-building exercise? Another damned psych-out for more damn political reasons? He felt sick at his stomach.

You all right, Dek?

He looked at Meg, realized everybody was looking at him.

Dek, Ben said, you arent spooking on us, are you? He shook his head solemnly. Its August eighth, Ben.

Huh? Sal said. Meg frowned. But Ben said;

It better be, Moonbeam. It had effin better be.

Yes, sir, Graff said, at the table, hands folded, looking straight at two very anxious senators and a busy background of senatorial aides. There was a committee, inevitably if there was a glitch, there was a committee, thank God currently meeting at Sol One, in the comfort of class 1 accommodations: it wanted answers and this was the forerunner, the shockwave.

Why is a junior lieutenant left in command of this base? What in hell does your base commander think hes doing taking that carrier out? We give you the authority you ask for, and immediately the program goes to hell in a handbasket, while the officer in charge removes a carrier and declares hes going to test, without notifying the udc or the Joint Committee, with a highly controversial figure aboard, conveniently unavailable to an ongoing investigation, while a distorted version of the whole damned training program leaks to the media? What kind of circus are you running here?

His stomach was in knots. He missed certain of the references. Demas and Saito had advised him certain things to say, certain points to make, the direction he should go with these men. But Demas and Saito didnt know one truth he knew. Neither did Porey and neither did the captain.

Sir, he began on that track, with all respect, I deny that the breach was in our Security.

Are you suggesting the udc leaked it? What about Dekkers phone call to Sol One? What about other phone calls from other Fleet personnel?

He hoped to hell there wasnt a recorder going. Let me explain, sir. Fleet personnel are contained in a security cocoon within the former administrative apparatus. Our personnel are issued cards which do not work with civilian accesses, which cant access BaseCom or the internal phone system without going through FleetCom, which is physically aboard the carriers, if there were anyone outside this facility for them to call, nearer than the Belt. The one exception was Dekker, who They began to interrupt and he kept going. who made his only call to his mother in my office, on my authorization, and I recorded the call in its entirety in case any question arose about that contact. The udc system is run through BaseCom, which is linked by other means to station central. Those are the principal routes information can take. There is the shuttle, and there is contact between human beings who can walk from one place to another. If information flowed from this facility, it took one of those routes.

On which they had evidence, except a member of a Fleet unit also had accesses he wasnt supposed to have that Fleet Command didnt know about which, if he confessed it now, was damning to him, to the Fleet, to Dekkers crew at minimum, to the Fleets credibility and their support from the legislative committee, at worst.

While at least at some level the udc and potentially the legislature knew about Pollards security clearanceand might possibly know hed somehow retained system accessif Pollard himself werent under higher orders.

God, he should never have held his information source secret from Porey. Never.

I suggest you use the channels you have to find out whats going on, lieutenant. Somebody in your command with real authority had better get his ass into this station, find out where the leak is and get this program off the evening news. Youre public as hell, reporters are demanding to come over here in herds, weve got a very fragile coalition that worked hard to give you what you asked for, and let me tell you very bluntly, lieutenant, if anything goes wrong with this rumored upcoming test youve lost the farm. You cannot disavow another failure, your captains cant pass the buck to junior officers. Do you understand that? Am I talking to anyone who remotely understands the political realities of this situation?

Yes, sir, I do understand. No temper. I am thirty-eight unapparent years of age, sir, and older than that as you count time. I was in command of this base during the last hearings, I was lately the director of personnel in this program, I am currently in charge of this facility and the testing program, and of the investigation, and we do have an answer, at least to what happened to Jamil Hasseini and his crew. He reached in his pocket and held up a yellow plastic washer. This caused the so-called accident.

He had their attention. At least.

How?

Operations records showed a hangup in an attitude control. This plastic washer turned up to block the free operation of the yoke. In a null-g facility, you may know, maintenance has to be extremely careful to log and list and check every part, down to the smallest screws and washers, that they take into the facility. These are experienced null-g workers. We dont know by those records how long this little part has been therewhether it was there from the time the pod was assembled and it by total accident floated over a course of years undetected into the absolutely most critical position it could take in the control systemor whether it was placed there recently.

Sabotage, in other words.

We view it as more than suspicious. Paul Dekker was assigned to that pod.

So weve heard.

How much have you heard?

Maybe youd damn well better tell us what there is to hear. We hear Dekker was assigned there and pulled at the last minute. Again. Why? How?

By my order, as chief of personnel. I made a routine final check on the crew stats: they were coming out of a period of orientation and lab sims. I felt we might be rushing it, in terms of fatigue levels. A stand-down under those circumstances is routine. Routineexcept that this was the time his replacement crew was going into sims with him. Except that the same individuals we suspect of sabotage had access to that area. Civilian employees: Dekkers given a positive id on one of them as guilty of assault in the last so-called accident. Were talking about deliberate sabotage and premeditated murder committed on Dekker

With what motive?

I doubt it was personal. Weve two employees of Lendler Corp under surveillance. We dont know all their contacts, yet. But they had access on both occasions.

Frowns. Can you prove anything?

Were developing a case. But you see the problem weve been working against.

Your security is supposed to be on top of things. People come and go where they like here, is that the way it works?

People with security clearances, yes, sirin this case clearances granted by the udc , interviewing people on Earth, where we have no screening apparatus. Were reviewing the systems, and the clearances, but there are 11,338 civilians on B Dock, hired by the udc and overseen by various offices. Were naturally giving Lendler Corp a higher priority in our review, but that doesnt mean information cant go out of here through another route.

Meanwhile Dekker is unavailable.

He is unavailable.

And you have no proof of this sabotage.

Their access. Dekkers testimony. The washer. Circumstantial evidence placing them in the area.

You know what thats worth.

A good reason not to let out what we know or make charges we cant substantiate. Were gathering evidence.

Meanwhile these purported saboteurs are at work on this station.

Yes, sir. Of necessity, they are.

And Paul Dekkers out there on that carrier.Is he in any way involved in this upcoming test?

Certainly hell be in observation and advisement. All crews have that assignment during a run. Whether hell be assigned the run or notthats dependent on evaluations.

He cant be the one to take the controls. That name cant be prominent in this program.Have you no comprehension?

Senator, political decisions in crew choice caused the last disaster to this program. And I cant believe Im hearing this all over again.

I cant believe what Im hearing from the junior command officer on this base. I cant believe your persistence in putting this man into the glare of publicity. Let me make it clear to you, lieutenant, careers are going down in flames if theres a second disaster. Weve backed you, weve delivered votes in the jlc, weve patched together the coalition that gives you what you asked for and damn you, you serve us up Dekker for a witness to sabotage and Dekker for the representative of your program, and leak to the press, while youre developing a case you darent bring to court. Are you aware whats happening on Earth? Are you aware of the fire-bombing at the ec headquarters? Are you aware of the bill pending in committee?

The extradition bill? Yes, Im aware of it. And both acts of sabotage were aimed at himby people who didnt even know him. This is no personal grudge on the part of the saboteurs, senator, its politically motivated murder, the same as the substitution that killed his crew was politically motivated, by people who may not have known where their orders came from. Now we have another coalition, as I understand it, part of which is working for this bill, but somebody else clearly doesnt want him in courtsomebody in a position to obtain security clearances wants him dead, and if we break the Lendler case into the open right now, its going to be a string that reels more and more information into the spotlightits as explosive as the Dekker case and for identical reasons. Thats why we havent expelled these individuals. We know where they are. We suspect who they work for.

Temper. Saito had warned him. He got it under control. He faced the senators and the busily note-taking aides with a cold stare, and saw anger and consternation on both senatorial faces.

I also want to know, he said, how this exact information about Dekkers being pulled from the sim got to the Joint Committee. Was it out of Stockholm?

Silence for a moment. The other senator said, harshly, Through the media, lieutenant. Not the way we prefer our briefings.

Havent you the power to find out those sources?

No. We havent. There are laws.

To cover illegal activity? I find that incredible.

We want to know who made this decision to test. Is there a test? Or is this whole maneuver a cover for this Dekker person?

There assuredly will be a test.

With Dekkers crew?

Possibly.

Let me tell you what this looks like to us. It looks like a do or die proposition, a harebrained go-for-broke damned stupid risk, on your senior captains perception that the Fleets losing prestige in Europe and your facility here is shut down! We cant get you another ship to wreck, lieutenant, we cant continue our support in the face of this stupid risk of lives and equipment!

Senior captain? Mazian? The program is not shut down, sir. If you perceive that, youve been misled.

The simulators are wrecked, youre vulnerable to sabotage, youre sending out crews who arent ready

No, sir. Im delighted to report that all necessary equipment is functioning. Theres been no hiatus in the program. All our crews are at work, including the udc teams, integrated with ours.

A silence. Doubt, curiosity, and deep offense. He had his own doubts, of these men Saito called essential and friendly and to be trusted with the truth, these fools who wouldnt so much as talk to Saito, because Saito wasnt a command officer and Saito wasnt in charge.

This doesnt agree with our information.

I hope I have better news, then, sir. Our crews are keeping schedules, we are bringing our other senior crews, including udc personnel, up to mission-ready; and when theyre ready they will go. Officially, I know nothing about the upcoming test. I wont know the time until Im told. But assuredly it will go. And any media attention to this facility will find everything in operation.

A modicum of respect, perhaps. A reassessment, a reevaluation what situation they were dealing with, certainly.

Maybe youd better explain yourself, lieutenant. With what equipment? With this tape youve come up with? Are we brainwashing our crews?

Crews at mission ready have to practice daily to maintain those skills. With the damage to the sims, Fleet Command opted to use the Hellburner prototype, patched to the shipboard simulators.

When was that authorized?

The patch?

The shipboard facility. The chamber.

Not chambers, sir, nothing like. Im not privy to the details, but this is equipment we brought with us into the system, that we regularly use. Combat crews on stand-by also have to practice, virtually daily, to keep their edge. We certainly cant stop a carriers operations or use its physical self for exercises. Naturally we have the equipment.

Then why in hell havent we been using it all along? Why spring it now? Why this whole damned, accident-riddled program?

Politics, sir. He hoped he kept all satisfaction off his face. As the situation was told to me, we were ordered at the outset, over our captains explicit protests, to submit our trainees to the udc Systems Test protocols, to their aptitude criteria, their rules and their existing equipment during testing of the prototypes. As I believe, there was a major policy battle over that point in the jlc, and we lost.

Total quiet in the room. The clicking of the aides keys had stopped.

You never said explicitly, the other senator put in, that you had the equipment.

There was some fear, Graff said, that the udc might use its position to demand control of that equipment. In a situation in which we are not to this hour solely in control of communications system accesses, in which weve had sabotage, attempted murder of our personnel, assignment of flight personnel on criteria purely ideological in natureplus the security breachwe are trusting your discretion on this point and we trust there will not be another leak. What we train on is a very dearly held piece of information. If our enemy knows what equipment we havewe are, in the vernacular, screwed. We protested, through every channel we trusted, that the station facilities here are a hundred fifty years old, with maintenance problems that eat up funds for improvements we asked for. The decision to put the rider training into the hands of the udc, to use Lendlers data conversion system for the pods in the first placewas as I understand, a purely political decision. We asked to review the software. We were not trusted to make that input. We were not trusted.

Another silence. An angry silence on both sides. But it wasnt productive anger. Graff shifted back in his chair. Im not a diplomat. My captain left other officers here who are. But they arent command track by udc rules. So I pass their word on to you. As for the operational crews of all the shipsyou gave us a requirement to have carriers on standby to defend this systemand I can tell you with absolute certainty I would be grossly irresponsible to take that carriers controls after months of total stand-down. Were in constant training, all ops crews and staffs are in training during any stand-down; and the udc has never provided carrier control sims. Its certainly no secret.

Where did you obtain this other equipment? Anger. Still, a genuine offense, and he answered with careful exactness:

I havent been on that carrier and I honestly dont know the source.

Where would you expect that carrier to obtain it?

The black market.

Whose black market?

The question seemed naive. The one out there, sir. Outside this solar system. Theres very good equipment available.

I find this outrageous. Union equipment? Is that story true?

We have manufacturers. Were not primitives looking for Earths expertise, my God, senator. We provided the designs that are making your corporations money.

Are you using Union equipment?

Senator, we dont look for the label. If it works, if its better, we use it. If we can get our hands on Unionside equipment, were delighted, and theyd be extremely upset, if they knew it. They dont want us using their programs.

Are you creating tape?

Of course. Theyre creating tape over in the udc . In ti. Theyre creating tape in Houston, for physical rehab patients

You know what were asking. These people with their fingers on the fire buttonare you saying, lieutenant, that the tape training your crews are being given is being adjusted to the personality of some single individual, and among those individuals may be Paul Dekker?

Physical reaction tape doesnt affect personality. Thats a complete misapprehension.

Its a public perception. Truth doesnt matter. Public perception does! Youre going to use a rab agitator, a man linked to riots in Bonn and Geneva

He held his voice steady and his hands from clenching. A young man who knows nothing about riots in Bonn, who was qualified for a pilots license before his enlistment, which one would hope the ecsaa doesnt do for criminals

Oh, come on, lieutenant! The ecsaa licensed every miner in the Belt!

Dekker was a pusher pilot at Sol One, in your own space, by your certifications. Hes an outstanding young officer whos distinguished himself by his work and his dedication to this program. And if he meets mission criteria, he will be a source for training material. Skill

Hes too politically sensitive. Its already too public. God! Why do you people persist in shoving this man in our faces? Are you actively challenging the legislature?

He shook his head. Your creativity, sir, with all respect. Any choice made on political and not operational grounds reduces this ships chances of survival. If this test fails, the ec has no alternative and no further resources to offer us. Im authorized to tell you we will have no choice at that point but to pull out entirely and abandon our defense of the motherworld. Thats precisely where it stands.

Dammit!

Yes, sir. I agree with you. But no one but our predecessors had a choice.

Things kept on surreal, so far as Dekker was concerned, time-trip to a place hed never been, and the little things got to you: the moment in the shower you couldnt remember where you were: the split-second during mission prep the whole scene seemed part of the station, not the carrier. Nothing felt safe, or sure. You ran the prep, you ran the sims, you scribbled away on your plans, you ran the sims, and every once in a while they gave everybody a day down and you could put your feet up, play cards and enjoy a light beer, because the carrier pilots were using the equipment, but the whole thing cycled endlessly.

You could believe at times you were in the war, the other side of the Hinder Stars. Or in Sol Stations carpeted corporate heart, where orderlies served you food you didnt even recognize, arranged in pretty patterns on the plates. Your bed turned up made, your clothes turned up clean and the bar when it was open served free drinks. Wasnt so bad a life, you could get to thinking. But debt for this had to come due, either to Porey or to God, or to somebody.

Hit two hundred-percenters, back to back, and he started thinking, the sims are lying to us. Theyre jerking us around, trying to give us confidence

They want their damn theory to work, theyre targeting the tape theyre giving us at the exercises, thats why were getting scores like that, thats why its not happening to the other teams

Some damned fool in an office somewhere could believe a lie and put us out there, when its all lab stuff that looks good

Dek, what are you guys having for breakfast? Call from the end of the narrow room, down by the display.

Damn, theyd posted the scores.

Lot of guys went and had a look. Hell, he groaned, but it wasnt ragging this time, it was a rueful shake of heads and a:

Dek, looks like you got the run.

Not yet, he said to Almarshad.

No, I mean you got the run. Youre posted. Mitch is back-up one, were two, half a point between us.

Blood went to his feet. He sat there, with his crew, who werent celebrating, who just looked at him; and got up as Mitch and Almarshad came over and congratulated him, not looking happy, not taking it badly either. It was too serious for that, too damned uncertain for that.

Not a thorough surprise, Mitch said. Sounds like were headed for girl-tape for sure. Ragging it a little close to the edge, that. But he took Mitchs offered hand, and Meg let him lay a congratulatory hand on her shoulder after. Kady. Class job, you guys. Sincerely.

Meg looked as if shed swallowed something strange. Sal just looked smugly satisfied, and gave Mitch a kiss on the cheek.

Ben said, I cant believe this. I cant believe this. What am I doing here?


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Chapter 18
 ^ 
His mother had said often enough. You dont care, Paul, you just dont care about people, theres got to be something basic missing in you

Maybe there was. Maybe he didnt feel things other people did. Maybe machines were all he came equipped to understand, all that was ever going to make sense to him, because he couldnt stay away from them he honestly couldnt live without doing this

He couldnt turn it loose. When he was away from the ship, he could think reasonably about it, and know that it was a cold way to be, and that if he could be something different and he could be back in the Belt with people he cared about, doing nothing but mining, he could be happyhed been happy there; he could have been again, in the right company

But when he got up here in null-g, in the rider loft, with the four Hellburner locks staring him in the face, and the ship out there, behind number 1, then everything was different, every value and priority was revised. The ship was a presence here. Was waiting to be alive; and he was, in a way he wasnt in the whole rest of his life. He was scared down in the gravitied quarters, scared out of his reason, and he realized hed gotten everyone who cared about him in one hell of a mess; but up here

Up here he knew at least why hed made the choices he had, right or wrong, he knew why hed kept going, and why the pods made him afraidjust that nowhere else was this. Nowhere else had the feel this did. It didnt altogether cure being scared, but it put the fear behind him.

This was where he would have been on that day, dammit, except for Tanzer, except for Wilhelmsen being put in the wrong place, at the wrong time it felt as if his whole life had gone off-line since then, and he was just now picking up again where it should have been, with the people he should have had: time that had frozen on him, was running again, the mission was in his pocket, and right now the only thing he was honestly afraid of up here was being pulled from the mission again

But nobody in command would mess with himnot now. It wasnt Tanzer in command. He was too valuable. He was somebody, finally, that people couldnt shove aside, when all through his life people had been trying, and they couldnt do that again. If he did thisif he lived through it

If he made good on everything hed promised.

Dekker.

Poreys voice, echoing over the speaker, making his heart jump.

Sir?

Mission dump has gone to your files. We have incoming.

Cold hit his gut, raw panic negated every reasoning. It couldnt happen. It wouldnt happen, it wasnt true

I said incoming, Dekker. Get your ass into library! Fast!

He grabbed a new grip on the zipline for the lift and hit the inner lift wall, damn the drilled reaction, he didnt believe it, damn, he didnt believe it. Were not betraying position, the voice from the speakers said. Were allowing forty minutes, thats all we can allow, for library access, plot, and confirm. Get with it.

Youre lying! Sir! This is a test run, this is the damn test, you dont have to pull this on us!

Silence from the lift speaker. Lift crashed into the frame, jolted him and the whole compartment around to plus 1 g, and he caught a grip on the rail.

Damn you! he yelled at the incommunicative com. Damn you to hell, commander,sir! Wheres this incoming?

But nothing answered him.

I swear to you it wasnt our guys, Villy said on the way to the officers conference room, to a meeting Graff had as soon skip. Thats official from the colonel. He didnt leak it, nobody on staff did that he can trace. Thats what he wants me to say.

What do you say? Graff asked.

Hes not lying. Villy didnt sound offended by the question. Villys eyes, crinkled around the edges with a lot of realtime years, were honest and clear as they always had been. You wanted to believe in Alexandro Villanueva the way you wanted to believe in sanity and reason in the universe. But Villy quoted Tanzer at him and it was suddenly Villanuevas own self Graff began to worry about, now, about the man who, over recent weeks, hed worked with as closely and as cooperatively as he worked with his own staffsorting out the tempers, the egos, the simple differences in protocols: theyd mixed the staff and crews in briefings and in analysis sessions, theyd given alcohol permissions in rec on one occasion, holding the marine guards in reserveand nobodyd been shot, nobodyd been taken to the brig, and no chairs had left the floor. More than that, they had a remarkable sight ahead of them in the hall, that was Rios and Wojcak in udc fatigues and Pauli in Fleet casuals and station-boots, engaged in conversation that involved a clipboard waved violently about.

No combat. Sanity. Cooperation, if a thin one. There was a secret, highly illegal betting pool going among the crews, odds on which crew was going to draw the test run, and a sizeable pot, from what Fleet Police said, the udc crews leaning heavily toward solid, by-the-book Almarshad and the Fleet tending to split between Mitchell and Almarshad and no few still betting on Dekker as the long shot. He hadnt taken the action on that pool that regulations demanded; Villy hadnt; more remarkable, Tanzer hadnt, if Tanzer knew, which he personally doubtedTanzer didnt know everything that was going on these days, Villy directly admitted there were topics he didnt bring up with Tanzer, and it was too much to hope that Tanzer had learned anything about dealing with the Shepherds or changed his style of command. It was Villys discretion he leaned tohad been leaning to it maybe more than he should have. Maybe hed only been naive, looking too much for what he hoped and too little for the long years Tanzer had built up a network in this place.

Fact was, same as hed told the committee, there were too many chances for leaks, too many contractors, too many technicians, too many station maintenance personnel with relatives in Sol One or, God knew, in Buenos Aires or Paris. It was worth their jobs to talk, the workers knew that, theyd signed the employment agreements, but they were human beings and they had personal opinions, not always discreetly.

Shuttle was coming inapproaching dock. They might be rid of the senators, but they had reporters incoming, FleetCom had broken the news of the impending test. The senators had no wish to get caught here, they were packing to leave, had their last interviews with the Lendler personnel today (God hope they didnt give anything away) and the shuttle would be at least six hours in maintenance and loading, latest report.

None too soon to be rid of the lot, in his book.

We have any new data on the hearings at One? Villanueva asked him. Anything from the jlc or the technical wing?

Nothing. Not a thing yet.

Steps behind them in the hall, rapid, as they reached the briefing room. Late arrival, Graff interpreted it, turned to glance and met an out-of-breath Trev, out of FleetCom. Evans handed him a printed note.

It said: Reporters are on the shuttle. All outbound system traffic on hold. Test is imminent.

Hell, he thought. And: Why didnt the captain warn us? fso has to have known, fso has to have signed the press passes

Reply, sir?

None I want in writing. Tell Com One I said so and what in hell. Those words. Stat.

Yessir, Trev said, and cleared the area at max speed.

Which left Villys frown and lifted eyebrow.

Reporters, on the inbound shuttle, he told Villy. The tests been announced, I dont know by whom System traffic is stopped. Were stuck with the shuttle, the senators, and the reporters.

Villys look couldnt be a lie. Theyve been inbound for three damned days! This isnt a leak, this is a damned publicity set-up! What kind of game are you guys running over at fso?

Thats what Im asking FleetCom. Bloody hell, what are they doing to us?

Damn mess, Meg muttered, in the ready room, looking at the lighted plot-screenDek was a bundle of nerves, holding to the hand-grip beside her and memorizing that chart with the only drug-training hed ever had, the bit that helped you focus down and retain like crazy. Ben was swearing because he hadnt got his specific numbers out of carrier Nav yet, Sal was talking to the ordnance clerk; and Meg muttered her own numbers to voice-comp, while suit-up techs tugged and pulled at her in intimate places. You didnt even do that basic thing for yourself, you just memmed charts fast as you could and talked to the systems chiefs and techs who you hoped to God had done their job.

The helmet came down over her head, and other hands twisted the seal. 360 real-hud came active, voice-link did. She evoked her entry macro, that prepped her boards longdistance, dumped her touch, her patterns, her mem-marks on the plot-screen fire-path to the Hellburner systems.

Mitchs crew and Almarshads were in flight control, two beats of argument between them whether it could possibly be real, whether they might actually have a realspace system entry launched at high v from far out; or whether intelligence reports foretold something about to drop inthe consensus was test, set-up, but they couldnt take it as a test run, didnt dare believe the ordnance that would come at them was anything but real. The sketchy fire-track was running right past Earths moon, not the kind of thing Sol System traffic control was going to like, and that meant a wide-open track with a shot at Earth that if they didnt get a fast intercept on that incoming shipthe doomsday scenario: they could lose the whole motherwell in less than ten minutes, that was what shaped up on their data. Billions of people. All life on earth. The enemy wouldnt do that. They were human beings

But life in the Belt and the gossip from Fleet instructors argued there were minds out there more different than you ever wanted to meet. And you could never, ever bet on them doing the logical

Siren went off, the board and take-hold. Hell! Ben cried, because they were going, there was no more time, the carrier was going to hit the mains and the next input they got was going to be off carrier ops, the carriers longscan/com team that was their data-supply and their situation monitor, them and the back-up teams doing her job for the sixty minus seconds it was going to take them to board and belt.

She grabbed the dismount line behind Dek, in crew-entry order, hindmost, and hung on as the door slammed wide and the line meshed with the gears, hell of a jerk on the arm. You held on, was all, as the singing line aimed you for the mounting bars at the hatch, one, two, three, four, tech lines ringing empty, the Hellburners tech hatch open, but receiving no one. Carrier technical crew shouted good wishes at them as they shot past and one after the other hit the stop, pile-up of hand-gripsinertia carried them inshe hit the cushions last, heard the hatches shut when she flipped the toggle, both ports, confirm on the seal by on-panel telltales as she was snapping the only manual belt; second toggle and they went ops-com, linked with the carrier, sending and receiving a blitz of electronic information. Were go, Dek said, and instantaneously the carrier mains cut in with a solidity that shoved them harder than the pods ever had, 10+ in a brutal, backs-downward acceleration.

Carrier was outputting now, making em noise in a wavefront an enemy would eventually intercept in increasing Doppler effect, and to confuse their longscan they were going to pull a pulse, half-up to ftl and abort the bubble, on a heading for the intercept zonethat was the scary part. That was the time, all sims aside, that the theoretical high v became real, .332 light, true hellride, with herself for the com-node that integrated the whole picture.

They tranked you down for jump. They didnt for this move. They told you what it was going to be, they pulled disorientations and sensory assaults, and learned the mem-techniques from the starship crew, and hoped you could get the threads back when you came outbut meanwhile you just kept talking to the computer and the carrier and moving your markers with the joystick, laying the strike and the strategy as if you were seeing it tamely on the light-table instead of on monitors, with numbers and grids floating in glowing colors. Reality became hyper-extended vision, into mathematical futures, chaos of nature, two intersecting presence-cones of human action that had to narrow at a proximity to Luna that was truly harrowing.

Hard to breathe. The flight-suit squeezed the ribs in efficient pulses, oxygen floweddamned sure not the pod this time. This was realthis was

Moment that the brain skipped moment that they werentanywhere, and all the data left the brain void. A voice said, like God, Stand by sep, Hellburner; she recalled that procedure, scanned her crews ls, tag and stat data glowing gold at the upper periphery of her midrange vision and said, mechanically as any machine, Sep go, thats go, go

Bang!

We have absolutely identical interests, Villy said to the gathered reporters, while Graff folded his arms and leaned against the wall by the door. Captain Villy rested elbows against the podium and said in that voice that had to be believed: Let me explain where the udc stands. Yes, thereve been problems in the past. As a test crew, in this facility, weve seen ideas that worked and weve seen ideas that didntweve worked with a lot of bright-eyed young pilots and techs that came in here all impatient to be trained in equipment we ran when it didnt have all the buttons they put on itwho never gave a damn about what we knew so long as the buttons worked. Thats the truth. And Ill tell you, having the future operational crews shoved in here to be part of the testing proceduresthats been a hell of an adjustment for usbut the Fleet did call this one right. The physiological demands of this equipment are hell; and the crews that can fly this baby are going to be so scarce in the general population theyre probably going to give some of us a chance to be honest working crew.

Tidbit of real News. Graff pricked up his ears, saw Optex record lights like so many blinking eyes among the reporters.

 

They say the other guys have to grow em in vats, and eighteen years from now were going to see their hand-raised clone pilots in the cockpit. That eighteen years is the lead we have, because they tell us the merchanters that wont take our side, wont take the Union side either. Union doesnt have the insystem crews we dotheyre a lot more mechanized, their mining equipments state of the art, a lot of robots. Their miners sit on big ore-collectors, they dont have our antique equipment and consequently they never developed the pool of experienced insystem crews like we drew in from our asteroid belt

What about this tape? a reporter asked, out of turn. What about this Union mind-tape?

Its not Union, Graff said from near the door, and drew an immediate concentration of steady red lights. Its ours, and it works only on the reflexes, a glance left or right at the panels, mathematical formulae and routines, nothing as organized thought or attitudes It covers the same kind of memorizations you do in school He trusted they did such things in schools. These reporters were Earths equivalent of com and he doubted they had any experience in common. He wanted Saito down here, but Saito was on the carrier, where FleetCom with a test proceeding mandated she be; Demas was God knew whereDemas had taken refuge in Ops, he was willing to lay bets

Com said in his ear: Mission is go-for with Dekker. Rider is sepped. Were coming up in station systems.

I copy, he told the bone-mike. Im on my way to mission control.

Reporters were still looking at him. Optex lenses were all turned his way, and Villy was watching him from the podium.

Missions away, he said, removed the uncomfortable security com from his ear, and added, with a certain suicidal satisfaction, team leader is Dekker, and watched all chaos erupt.

All right! Ben sounded finally satisfied with the numbers and Dekker gave a little breath of reliefa relief that Ben probably wouldnt understand. Smug, that was Ben when he relaxed; but Ben wasnt smug now, he was On and anxious, all the way.

We just keep running quiet a while, Dek-boy. A real hold-steady here, minimum profile, just keep us out of their acquisition long as we cancarriers gone up ahead, going to fire a decoy and brake hard.

The carriers vane-config showed clear, that was the immediate worry on this maneuverthe carrier was going to pull an axis roll: a thing the size of some space stations was going to do a total reverse, pass them again at close range, rotate a second time and tail them at a distance

This is a set-up, Meg complained, we got too many numbers on this, Ben. Its got to be a set-up

Dekker a murderer? Graff said, tracking past the spex windows of mission control to the profile screens and the working teams and his own trainees at the boards. Theyd established the reporters in the viewing area, gotten the senators a secure spot in a vip observation point, and on the displays in mission control a situation was unfolding neither party yet comprehended. No. He happens to be the survivor of three documented attempts on his life, two of which put him in hospital, one of which killed Cory Salazar.

Not the loudest voice, but the one he chose to hear: That contradicts what Councillor Salazar charges

Probability fans were changing color on the screens, rapidly narrowing. It is, nevertheless, the truth. The evidence against Paul Dekker was fabricated by the identical agencies responsible for covering up a strike-breaking police action that took seventeen other lives documented in 2304 sworn affidavits and complaints.

From Belters? Bias dripped from the question, and sharpened focus and temper for a split-second.

From civilian and military eyewitnesses and victims living and dead in Earth Company records. There are no grounds for the charges against Paul Dekkertheyre old history, investigated and officially dismissed when the agencies that made the charges were dissolved by legal action for corruption, wrongful death, and labor abuses. As for the culpable parties, they were relieved of command and stripped of their licenses, but unfortunately that was the only action taken. I suggest you ask Ms. Salazar why shes never named them in her pending suit.

Why didnt she?

I couldnt speculate on her motives.

Ten and twenty questions at once. Riot, as reporters a moment ago drifting along the spex wall suddenly elbowed each other to get Optex pickups to the fore. Let the Company raise hell, let the Fleet ship him to the battle zoneplease God, ship him to the zone, away from reporters, cameras, Edmund Porey, and self-serving senators demanding dinner in the vip observation area.

Then someone shouted, from the hall, Theyre releasing the separation footage! and bedlam surged in the other direction, reporters trying to get into mission control, jamming in the doorway. Two stayed to ask:

Who authorized this test, lieutenant?

Not in my need-to-know, Im afraid. Insystem traffic near Luna shows lift delayed for thirty minutes on the monitor up there. That has to come from very high levels.

Who can authorize it?

Sol One Stationmaster, for the lowest level.

If

The barrage of questions and dicing of information kept up. He stood there with his gut in knots. It was go now, no likely recall of the rider. Mission parameters were showing on the screens, dopplered transmission from the carrier, and from the rider, via the carrier. Course was laid for intercept from the ecliptic, of a zenith system entry shielded from the carrier by Earths own security zone

Worst-case scenario in system defensean attack coming into Earths vicinity, and not a damned thing on the transmissions to say the case wasnt real worse, there was an incoming showing on the one screen his eye knew for real-case. Something was inbound or theyd gotten insystem traffic management to lie, and it didnt. Ever.

Ship felt good, felt good all the way, zero no-calls and zero glitches on the boards. Clean, wide sep from the carrier and for a while they would keep the carriers rate inside its shields, pretending to the enemy that separation was still to come. Attitude assemblies were all answering test-calls. Dekker lost himself in the internal config-confirms, in the numbers that were the immediate futureMeg was there to tell him where he was, Ben was shaping further future, and Sal was working up the fire-path, armaments taking program, talking to Megs boards which would talk to his v-hud when the time came. Right now body-sense was expanded into the ship, time was cut loose and independent of circumstancethe track and the fire-points were shaping up further and further into the diagrams spread in his far visionbut he was only generally aware of that: he was seeing that interval as leisurely information-building minutes diving toward a split-second hype-point, where he had to be ready to execute a sequence of immaculately timed moves to confuse the enemy, position the fire platform, and get their asses safely past a line of answering fire scarily close to Luna, with a v that overrode both Lunas pulland the available energy of their own missiles. Which was all Sals problem.

They arent doing anything, the reporters objected with increasing frustration, even anger, and Graff said, finally, with a heart going faster and faster, eyes fixed on the monitors beyond the spex panes: Oh, yes, they are. Theyre maintaining output silence. The carriers doing all the transmission, noisy as it wants to be. They launched something on either side before they braked, ones a decoy, ones the rider, and the rider doesnt want to be seen yet, thats the name of the gameeven we dont know which it is, because they havent told us and motion hasnt started.

Questions broke out, a shouted confusion.

Yes, we have no doubt theyre still conscious. See the four dots on the screen, all doing fine Trajectories were widening their perspective on the screens and one reporter noticed the obvious. Thats going straight through Luna spaceis that Luna space?

All system traffics suspended. The firepaths will have been cleared and safed.

What if

Chatter kept up. Media seemed to abhor a thinking silence.

He watched the situation on the screens, thinking, Damn, whos feeding them their orders? But he heard no calculations emanating from FleetCom. He suspected the carrier armscomper had primed them for thisset up the incoming and the response: he personally suspected that anything and everything Porey did was with mirrors; but he kept his mouth shut and hoped to God no reporter got onto that question.

And the firepaths were damned close to Luna the reporter was right, they were terrifyingly close, from the viewpoint of civilians not used to starships at entry and exit v close, and with a maneuver that, if they did itdamn, it was Russells Star, replayed

Long, long time on a hold-steady. Easy to become hypnotized, if not for the nuisance chatter on internal com. Dekker did the small breathing exercises that kept him aware of timenothing but freefall at fractional light, minimal signature, nothing noisy, no output at all, no input but the passive receipt of the carrier and its boards that advised them things they couldnt output to see.

Couldnt prove it wasnt real, what they were receiving. You couldnt assume it, darent assume it.

What were going to do imminently, Dek-boy, were about to do a little round the corner shot at this sumbitch. Lunas shadows your boost point, God, I hope you get it right

Copy that, he muttered. Do your own job, Ben.

Ordnance up, Sal said. Meg. Dek, thats your plot-points, you copy?

Dots and lines were multiplying in his midvision now, floating in space, designating essential fire-points, orientation, mass decrease. Considerable decrease: Hellburner was 90 per cent fuel, engines, ablation surface, and ordnance.

Hes got it, Meg said. Here we go, guys.Initiate.

Pulse of the main engines. Missiles launched with a shock through the frame, one and two away straight toward the moon. Adrenaline stretched time and distances.

T-l, Ben was saying, calling out the major coordination points.

Second pulse, high-g ro, intermittent accel and launches directly down their backpath toward their carrier, staccato hammer of missiles away, Hellburners mass diminishing fast.

Second ro, braces engaged. Had to hold the track with immaculate numberscrossing the carrier firepath now, edge on, minimum profile.

Son of a bitch, Ben yelled, as the emissions recept picked up launch, but their four missiles had kicked off the frame on the mark and Dekker swung into his scheduled Profile RePosition with an instant eighth less mass and a violence that blurred vision. Track! Ben yelled at Sal. Track!

Got it, got it, got it, Sal cried, onto a steady stream of profanity, as their chaff gun opened up down the hostile firetrack straight for the incoming. Burn it! Ben yelled, and Dekker shoved it to +10.5 instant gs ahead, on the instant, rotated sideways as they were.

Countered. Graff watched the fire bursts, listened to the dispassionate voice of FleetCom confirm the intercept.

It looked so slow on this scaleso incredibly slow. But his heart knew the speed at which things were moving, his gut was in knots, he wanted his own hands on controls, he wanted that with every breath he took

They were on. God, God, they were making it. So had Wilhelmsenthis early on. Another ReOrient and they were still throwing fire

But, damn! the lines intersected, and of a suddenmissiles near Luna were off the scope of a sudden

Range safety? or hostile action?

Test stop, came over the speakers. The test has been terminated this is FleetCom mission control

Disaster? Graff felt cold all over. Couldnt have. The plot was still tracking.

The incoming is confirmed as ec militia merchanter Eagle, proceeding at V to maintain effect shields against inert chaff which will not, repeat not, intersect civilian traffic. Luna-vectored ordnance was destroyed by the range safety officer. At no time was this ordnance capable of reaching the lunar surface: technical explanation will follow. The remaining ordnance is being cleared from the area by destruct commands issued by range safety. Rider ordnance trajectories have been computed as intersecting Eagle presence and movement with three major strikes, sufficient to have eliminated the incoming threat. This concludes a successful test of the Hellburner prototype. In-progress System traffic will resume ordinary operations in fifteen minutes

Impossible to hear in the spectator gallery, after that. Crews and techs inside mission control were out of their seats, pounding each other on the backs with complete disregard of uniform or gender. Damn on! Villy roared from the other side of the spectators, Optexes were going, reporters were shouting questionsa few of them loudly incensed about the apparent proximity to the moon.

God, he just let it go. Gave fragments of answers, how he feltdamned happy; had he been nervouswanted to be out there, he said, all the while tracking on the screens, the celebrations, the communications from FleetCom telling Hellburner 1 there was no need to brake, the carrier was on direct intercept, and from udc System Defense saying that lift traffic would resume in areas declared cleared, starting with alpha zone, near Earths atmosphere.

Was it an unwarrantable risk to Luna? a reporter wanted to know. He said, tracking on the politics as well as the damned brilliant straight-line shot, In the first place, it was never going to hit the moon. It was moving past the moon faster than it was moving toward it. By the laws of physics it absolutely couldnt hit the surface.

If something had gone wrong with the missiles

They didnt have enough fuel to reach the moon soon enough to hit it. Its absolutely impossible.

But they could reach the carrier.

The carrier could run into them. The range officer got it well within the safe zone. If it had failed to detonate, there were two back-up systems; and, I reemphasize, the ordnance was not infalling Luna, no more than the ship itself was. The armscomper knew exactly what she was doing.

She, a reporter pounced on the question, but another shouted:

Was it a successful test, when the duration was half an hour less than the Wilhelmsen run, at a slower speed?

The rider eliminated the threat. It had nothing left to shoot at. Theres no point in continuing beyond mission accomplished.

But could they have kept going?

No doubt whatsoever. And let me point out, they were slower, but their target was moving at system entry speeds. Wilhelmsens targets were only randoms, from known fire points, nothing this real-time. But he gave us data that helped us. It wasnt a pointless sacrificenever a pointless sacrifice. Tanzer had just shown up in mission control, Tanzer accepting handshakes of his staff, beyond the sound-damping spex, and the whole press corps was suddenly trying to figure out how to get where they werent going to be admitted. Villy clapped him on the shoulder in passing and escaped the intercepts, while another Optex pickup arrived in his face with,

Ms. Salazar has denounced the choice of Paul Dekker as the source of tape for the program and called for the disfranchisement of the Fleet. How do you feel about that?

My answer? If that incoming had been Union, that ship and that young pilot and crew would have prevented global catastrophe. A single barrage of inert matter falling on Earth at half light would create ecological disaster. Stock answer, stock material, the science people had calced it years ago: he knew not a damned thing about climates, truth be told.

A reporter followed up: Earth was not in actual dan-ger.

Earth was in deadly danger if that had been a Union ship. But Hellburner demonstrated its ability to deflect any such attack. Their course was right on intercept with that incoming militia ship, you can see it on the display up there. This was a live ordnance test, but nothing at any time was aimed at Earth or Luna.

What if it went off-track?

Thats why there are range safety officers. He didnt want to say what he suspected, that if the destruct sequences for the riders missiles hadnt been dumped to Eagles computers by the Sol system buoy on entry, the range safety officer on the ecs4 had to have had a few extremely anxious moments once the shots went around the limb of the moon. That volley had come very close to sending the missiles out of communication with the carrier. But the crew hadnt pulled any punches. No crew could afford to think in those terms. Ever.

Lieutenant, lieutenant, do you think

Excuse me He was getting a burst of new information off FleetCom on the screens and over the PA, and another line of comflow in his ear from Saito, saying

Panic over much of Europe, assumption the test was real, public reactions yet uncertain But Mazian was in front of the cameras in Bonn, with pronouncements of what a Union strike would have meant for Earth calling Paul Dekker and his crew phenomenally skilled, heroes of Earths own defense forces, a combined Fleet-and-udc crew

Good run. Still room for improvement.

Poreys voice; and Dekker wanted to tell him go to hell for the trick theyd pulled. Destruct the ordnance, damned right theyd had to, hed been scared as hell they might hit a friendly ship; but a Belter didnt have ordinary nerves, and hed not been a hundred per cent convinced until theyd gotten the congratulatory communication from FleetCom that it had been the scheduled test.

Didnt know what to do with the nerves now, things were still dragging along, interminable time stretch: not so hard a job, this run, but that was the problem, wasnt it? You didnt get the hellish repositions and redirects when you were working with Ben and Sal, when your copilot was thinking ahead of the pilots problems so he didnt get called on for those movesonly one of those shifts hed had to rip, theyd hyped the v sideways hard after Sals best shot and Ben was still muttering about realspace feeling real, and soreness setting in.

Meg said, Were in the pocket, right in the pocket, now, Dek, you dont have to do a thing til the bow-shock.Incidentally, compliments from Captain Kreshov, on Eagle, he says it was a damn pretty job, his words.Thank you, sir. The team appreciates the compliment.We got a drink offer from his armscomper

Sounds good, Ben said. Yeah! from Sal.

Himself, he wasnt highly verbal, just tracking on the approaching carrierBen decided it was a frigging party, all of a sudden, Sal and Meg evidently had; and he could strangle Ben. They werent through until theyd been through the realtime shields, nothing virtual about it this time: carrier coming up like a bat behind them, Baudrees showing out, no different than the rider jocks, except Baudree was carrying multiples of their mass, and when he contemplated dock after what hed been through he felt sweat running on his forehead and a tension cramp knotting his leg.

Meg switched him out of the FleetCom loop to carrier-com, then, the range blip and the docking schematic a total preoccupation in his 360 v-hud compression, carrier Helm talking to him now, wanting his attention, while he left Meg and Ben to watch elsewhere.

Just hold steady and weve got you.

Moment of panic. Hard to shift time-perception. It wasnt going fast now. Everything took forever and a tiny bobble was disaster. You didnt screw it at this stage. Didnt, please God, didnt.

Bow shock in 43 seconds.

Copy that. Go. He couldnt afford to think theyd done it

Not yet.

Thats capture and dock, FleetComs dispassionate voice said. Thank you, Mr. Dekker. Excellent job. Graff found himself breathing again.

Were going into our checklist. Dekkers voice. The reporters had gotten to recognize it. Had picked up on the tension in mission control and Villy had finally gotten it through, the shift the pilot had to make between nanosecond events and docking at relatively slow docking approach. We had two funerals getting this down pat, Villy muttered. Its no piece of easy the kids workinghell of a buffet when you cross the shields.

Another flurry of technical questions. Graff looked for an escape, saw the door to the vip area open and the two senators walk outinstant recognition from the press, instant convergence in that direction. Shouts and questions.

We were invited to observe this test. The senior senator, Caldwell. To see how the taxpayers appropriations have been spent. I must say weve had a compelling demonstration of the effectiveness of the technology, outstanding performance

J-G, Demas said, in his ear. Bonn. Our suspect did work for MarsCorp.

He ducked for the corridor, deserted Villy and the senators for a small nook near a couple of marine security guards. Say, he asked the security unit. Have we got a case?

I dont know if we have a case, but he has former close associates in the Federation of Man, and the udc background check didnt go that deep, he was passed in under Lendler security, and hear this, J-G, the udc took Lendlers word for it, unquote. All their personnel have to have a clearance. Unquote. MarsCorp is 45 per cent of Lendlers business: the atmospherics softwares, for a start.

Bloody hell, he thought. The information had hit his brain. The implications were still finding sensitive spots in his nervous system. Took Lendlers word for it. All their personnel have to have a clearance. Political implications, far beyond the Dekker affair.

Youre serious.

Mars is threaded all through this. But so is the Federation of Man. Eldon Kent has two cousins in that association. Lendlers records on him are so-named classifiedwhich we cant penetrate without filing charges.

Not yet. Not yet. God.

Saito cut in on the channel. J-G. The carrier is returning to dock.

Were deep in reporters. Tell the commander that.

Im sure he knows, Saito said.

Damn! he thought, but he kept it off his face, he hoped, at least. He stood very still for a moment, heard Caldwell saying, inside,  a tribute to the skill and dedication of Earths industry and innovation


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Chapter 19
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Mains cut in, hard, and Dekker gave himself up to the force, just breathed the way one had to and trusted, figuring at this point if the carrier hit a rock or took them to hell, he wasnt afraid any more, he just stared at the blank, black vr in front of him, sensory deprivation they were planning to fix that, arguing about what a crew wanted, coming off hype, whether they wanted anything at all but a vr off the carriers boards, but Dekker personally voted just for the vid of the carrier surface, that was the only thing he wanted to see, he was convinced of it now, only thing a rider crew was going to want was constant reassurance that they were snugged up against the frame and locked, and that the clanks that rang through the hull were the auto-service connections and the ordnance servos, ready to shove ordnance up into the racks if there were a need to launch the prototype a second time immediately, which, thank God, there wasnt, and the servos didnt.

Tired, now, just tired. The carrier pulsed down to system speeds, and announced a reposition on a new vector. Slow as humans lived, now, Dekker supposed, but things were moving faster than he could track or understand

Which was the universe at ordinary, Meg would say, if Meg was talking, but none of them seemed to have the energy to talk right now, just trying to ride through the braking and not think, he supposed, all of them coming down off hype, and exhausted.

Second accel. He made the deep sustained breaths and shut his eyes. Black around them and black inside: reality had caught up to him, and Cory was dead. Long time back. Another life. Pace the breaths and count, the way you had to with a shove like that, to keep conscious. Hotdogging from Baudree, far as anybody could do that with a mass like this

What in hells he doing? Ben asked plaintively. Where are we going?

Going back to base, Meg said.

You got read-out?

Nyet. But you feel the direction, rab.

Come off the mystic stuff. Nobody feels the direction.

Hey. Theres ways and ways to feel it, cher, we did it. Where else they got to take us?And theres those of us that feel the sun. Those that lived close to her

Hell if, Kady.

Nothing mystic. We got magnetics. Science boys say so.

Thats shit.

Dunno. But the suns starboard by 15 and high by 5.

Trez garbage, Kady.

Hey. Trez mystique, Pollard.

Could get us a comlink, Sal grumbled. Bloody damn hurry, they could let us come aboard. I got a serious bet on with Mitchs guys. And were alive to collect

Whatd you bet?Ben, alarmed.

Familiar voices in the dark. He was safe here. Porey was outside, Porey who wanted him to make decisions, when Ben and Meg were the ones who decidedexactly the way Graff said about merchanter crews, and he couldnt understand why Porey expected him to follow udc rules; he didnt want the say, just fly the ship, that was all, and hed done that, hadnt he? Hed done the part he wanted, and for his part, he didnt care where they went from here, whether Meg was right or whether they were going to turn up somewhere out in real combat, he wanted to talk to Mitch and the guys, just a real quiet chance at the crews theyd worked with, chance to store it down, debriefforget the things hed been through.

But that wasnt the way it worked. God, that was still to go through, the meds were going to haul them in and go over them with a microscope. And hed gotten spoiled, he wanted the massage, the stand-down and the beer and somebody else to make up his bunk, the kind of treatment you got on the carrier, that was what, hed gotten spoiled

But the barracks was where he lived. He looked forward to messhall automat cheese sandwiches French fries and a hamburger and a shake, one thing Poreys fancy cooks couldnt come up with, not with the right degree of grease. You had to have things like that or you didnt know you were alive, and not in some passing dream

Eyes were watering, tear tracks running down his face. He didnt know why. He just listened to carrier ops, com chatter between base ops and here, and traffic control; and Meg was right, they were routed in.

Did it, he kept telling himself, the dark was proof of that, the feel of the ship was proof of that. Hed done what he wanted to do, the most outrageous thing hed ever planned to do, and he didnt know what was left but to be free to do it.

Didnt even have to teach how. Tape would do that. He just had to get it together for the next time they let him fly

We find Graff said, to the gathering of Optexes, when we bring in an integrated crewthe sum of the one is reliably the sum of the rest. People in this profession, given the chance to pick their own partners, sort themselves, I dont know how otherwise to express it. You dont work with anybody under your ability, where you know your life is on the line. Yes, theyre all four that good

This crew is tape-taught, a reporter said. What does that say about human skill?

Let me explain for any of you whore thinking of tape in the classic sense, the tape were referring to is really the neural net record: you go in with what you did before, matched to a performance you want; and the neural assist system shapes itself around youthats why we work with just four people at this stage. Theyre physically programming the systems.

By their feedback.

Exactly. The tetralogics wont do what these people do. They brought instincts and experience no tape can teach. The experts and the computers all have to ask them what the right reaction isthats what the tape is, thats all its doing, recording and learning from the humans in control storing all the responses as a norm some other human being just may exceed

The reporters liked that idea. You could see it in the mass mark-that orders to the Optex loops, the shouted questions, the sudden comprehension on their faces. They wanted a confirmation of themselves, that was what they wanted for their viewers, another human yearning, a sense of synch with the chaos systems around them. Youre saying theres something unquantifiable, something about the human factor

The human component governs the computers, thats the way it is in the starships, thats the only way this ship is going to do what it was created to do. Thats what the whole design fight has been about and thats what this crews just proved.

A vid byte they could use. The carrier was in dock. Presumably the rider crew and the backups were on their way down and the reporters were ready; he was theoretically the sacrifice, stalling and pacifying the reporters with running commentary, but, damn! hed scored a point.

On the viewscreens and the monitors, images of Bonn and Paris and London, demonstrations by the Federation of Man and the leading peace groups, claiming Earth itself had been at risk, never mind high-v ordnance was aimed the other way: that same fear of near-c in system that discouraged the trade they might have hadpeople were frightened, stunned by the rapid approach, reporters already asking (personal applications always chased a new idea) why they languished three days on a shuttle ride that the carrier could cover in thirty minutes

They had more questions. He saw the lift indicator showing operation, and nodded in that direction. Theyre coming onto station.

Attention deserted him for the lift area: marines and Fleet Security had an unbreachable line of athletic bodies setting up a clear area, through which Villy, on similar advisement, showed up with Tanzer and the senators in tow, trailed by a still ecstatic crowd of Fleet and udc crews from mission controla complete media show-out, Graff thought with an uneasy stomach; and damned Porey to bloody hell for the decision to come straight inbut what else was it all for, after all? Risk Dekker, risk the prototype, risk Eagle with its thousand-member crew, for that matter, not to mention oversetting local regulations and stirring up the peacers with what they thought was a burning issue

Lieutenant. Tanzer arrived on his left hand.

Colonel. We seem to have done it.

Tanzer shot him a look as if he were weighing the courtesy we that he hadnt even considered in saying. The senators were in earshot. Hed delivered Tanzer an unintended, face-saving favor and Tanzer looked as if he were trying to figure what he wanted in exchange.

We have done it, Tanzer said, as the lift doors opened.

Dekker and his crew walked out still in their flight gear, all pale and tired-looking, but cheerful till they confronted the shockwave of reporters, questions, and Optexesnobody, dammit, had even warned them what was waiting: Porey had let them walk into it. Graff dived forward; and the other core crews surged through and grabbed them, slapping backs and creating a small island of riot inside the cordon of security. He hung back a little, let the crews have their momentsaw Dekker both dazed and in good hands, the reporters not getting past the guards, just jostling silently for position with the Optexes as he finally took his turn with the crew, shook hands and congratulated them. There was glaze in their eyes. The four of them were still hyped and lost and not coping with the timeflowhe knew the look, he felt it, he ached to insulate them from this, get them quiet and stability

Good job, he said. Good job, all of you.

Thank you, sir, Dekker breathed, and looked past him wherehe turned his headthe vids showed riot in Bonn and Paris, just wide-tracking, lost.

Ens. Dekker, the reporters shouted, Ens. Dekker, how do you feel right now?

Dekker turned his head to look at the reporter, honestly trying and failing, Graff read it, to accept one more slow-moving attention track. I he began.

A reporter said, Ens. Dekker. Ens. Dekker. Theres a news crew standing by with a link to Bonn. Your mothers with the crew. Are you willing to speak to her, tell her how you feel at this moment?

Damn! Graff thought, and shot another glance at the vids, where placards and banners called for peace, where a blond woman with a look as lost as Dekkers gazed into the lenses and then to the side, probably toward a monitor.

Talk to her, the reporter said, you can talk, shell hear youdo you hear us, Ms. Dekker?

Yes, Ingrid Dekker said. Yes, I hear you

I hear you, Dekker said faintly, and the whole area shushed each other to quiet.

Paul? Paul? Is that you?

Yes. God, he was going to fractureGraff saw the tears well up, saw the tremor. Are you all right, mother? Are they treating you all right?

Ingrid Dekker bit back tears. I wanted to return your call.

I wanted to call again. They said the lawyers wouldnt

Somebody shoved between Ingrid Dekker and the interviewer, said, Thats enough.

Let her alone! Dekker cried. Damn you, take your hands off her

The picture jolted, the broad shadow of peacer security for a moment, Ingrid Dekkers voice crying, Paul,Paul, I want to go home!

Kady got hold of Dekker. Aboujib did; and Pollard said, on Optex, Those sons of bitches.

Well see if we can get Ms. Dekker back on, the interviewer was saying; and addressed his counterpart in Bonn. Can you get to Ms. Dekker to ask?

Dekker was in shock, reporters shoving Optex pickups toward him, marines under strict orders not to shove back. That face was magnified on monitors all around the area, pale and lost, then Senator Caldwells face was on the screens, reporters asking him his reaction.

Caldwell said, gravely: Its clear Ms. Dekker had something more to say, and the Federation leadership didnt want her to say it. I see enough to raise serious questions about how free Ms. Dekker is, at the moment

Serious questions, Graff thought, choking on his own outrage. Serious questions whether Poreys timing for noon in Bonn, when Mazian was there, with the peace demonstrators, was anything like coincidence.God, run the test right past Luna in a move the peacers were bound to protest, have the reporters set up, the questions primed

Then send Dekker and a crowd of excited crews head-on into the media for a reaction, when Porey damned well knew he was spaced?

He couldnt pull Dekker out directly, couldnt order Security to oust the reporters, darent look like censorship on this side of the issue. He went in, took Dekkers arm with Optexes on high gain all around him. Someone will do something. Which rang in his own ears as one more damned promise he didnt know how he was going to keep.

Dekker gave him a bleak, blank stare. I dont want to leave, sir. If they can get her back I want to talk to her.

The mikes got that, too. Kady said, out of turn, They dont want her loose. Thats clear.

But all that showed on the Bonn monitors was a shut wooden door, and a reporter outside it, with no sound going out, talking, while demonstrators elbowed and shoved.

And all that showed on theirs was Dekkers stricken face, Dekker saying, dazedly, They lied to her. They lied to her all the way

Its playing, Demas said, leaning against the counter, its playing over and over again, around the planet, as the world wakes up. Dekkers a handsome kid, doesnt at all hurt his case. Or ours.

Graff wanted to break somethingDemas and Saitos necks, if he didnt recognize in Demas glum expression an equal disgust. He looked at the vid, seeing Ingrid Dekkers bewildered distress, her sonsLet her alone! Over and over again.

As a weapon, Ingrid Dekker had turned in the hand of her wielders, and bit to the bone. Dekker was no longer the faceless Belter exile, he was the pilot whod pulled a spectacular success with the Hellburner, he was a kid with a human grievance and a mother held prisoner by causes and politicians, and the demonstration organizer who had shoved Ingrid Dekker away from the reporters was under heavy condemnation and refusing questions.

Demas was right: it didnt hurt that Dekker had the face of a vid star and sincerity that came through the body language. The crew hadnt played badly either: the rumored split in the udc /Fleet ranks, Ben Pollard with his udc insignia on his flightsuit, Kady and Aboujib in flash and high tech, all of them profoundly concerned and angry at a human issue

While on the evening and the morning news around the world, Alyce Salazar was doing damage control, covering her partisans, claiming that the Fleet had manipulated the media (truth) and that, quote, the important issues were being ignored in a rush to sympathy for a lying scoundrel whod conned her daughter

Dekker might be seeing ithed ordered open media access for appearances sake while reporters were here, if no other reason; and had no argument from Porey. The vid was going out over all the station, their local authority doing no screening whatsoever.

J-G, Demas said, honestly, I didnt know until they ordered me to take charge of Security, right when the test started. They did query Saito, early on, for an assessment of Dekkers personnel record, his cultural makeup

They. Did the captain know?

I dont know what there is to know. My guess is, Mazian sent Porey in here to figure the odds. If it was good enough, go, shove the best team in the ship and make the run; and if it turned out to be Dekker, meet the political chaff head-on, no hiding it, aim him straight for the cameras and damn all Salazar could do.

Pardon me, Nav, but the hell the timing was random! High noon in Europe, in Bonn? Mazians there. He knows the schedule. He knew it would draw instant fire!

I dont think he planned the scene with Dekkers mother.

I dont put it past him.

I think you give him too much credit. Some things just drop into your lap. But Mazian did want the protestsaccording to Saito. He wanted to solidify the issue, Saito says, so that it has substance, and then shoot that substance to hell. Make the peacers take a specific position and prove them wrong.

Dekkers mother.

Dekkers mother is a side issue. An opportunity Im sure theyll take advantage of. Not mentioning Salazar. The ec wants Salazar stopped, in such a way it wont break Mars out of the union and we have the Kent business with MarsCorps fingerprints all over it.

And darent use it, dammit, we darent even arrest Kent and Booten, we dont know

A stray thought crossed his mind.

What? Demas asked in his silence. Dont know what?

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the vid, where another instant opinion poll was playing. A radical shift in the numbers in the last 5 hours, plus or minus 3 points of accuracy. People believed the things theyd seen. Forty-five per cent believed Paul Dekker was innocent and 46 per cent now believed there was a significant threat of the war reaching Earth.

He said to Demas, apropos of nothing previous, I want a statement prepared, a public relations version of Dekkers file. In case. I dont like unanticipateds, Nav.

Youve got it. But the Company will black-hole it. Salazar is too sensitive an issue. And far too powerful. Shes using the issues, shes not the grieving mother, shes a politician. Kent has got to be a professional. And if weve got him, therell be othersinside the Earth Company offices, for all we know.

All the same, he said.

He offered Demas a thin smile, and Demas took himself and his securitied briefcase back to the carrier, to Saito, to whatever lines of communication they were using to reach the captain with or without Mazians knowledge.

They knew now what had killed Wilhelmsen: Ben Pollard had put them onto it and Poreys question to Dekker had shown it plain as plain. Wilhelmsen had been udc command track. Pete Fowler had been the shadow behind Dekkers status, the real decision-makerand the udc had put them into the same cockpit. But they couldnt put that story in the release to the mediathey dared not confuse the issue. Dekker was the point man, thewhat had Saito saidthe face the public knew? Dekker was the command officer of record in both crews; and that was the way the story was going to Earth.

Himself, he put on his jacket and went to evening rec, where there was a general liberty in force, with most of the reporters packed in with the senators on the shuttle, about six hours distant from the crews, thank God.

Thanks to some other agency, he was trapped with eight of them on station for at least a week. And damned if he was going to deal with them blind.

Beer and vodka were permissible; and Mitch and the udcs Deke Chapman were doing a v-vid arcade game, noisy and rude, with bets down and the marine guards in on it, when a command officer walked in on it unannounced

Graff, Meg said, the whole room drew a breath, seemed to decide it was a friendly tour, and went back to an abated roar; Vasquez offered the lieutenant a beer.

Sip, Graff said, in the way of a Shepherd who was on duty; so Graff got his sip to a cheer from all about, then said, quietly, Pollard. Word with you. Outside.

Quick frown from Sal.

No trouble, Graff said. Just an operational. As you were, everybody.

Jokes on that score, no disrespect at all, just guys on an r&r from death and destruction. Meg slid into her chair again, caught Deks hand, because he was looking spaced again

Letdown, she understood that. Only thoroughly happy moment hed had in his life, by all she knew; and theyd hit him head-on with that business with his mother and the peacers. He looked her in the eyes now as if she had the answersas if, as the rab would say, she was the word and the knowhow.

And maybe she had been that, once, for a lot of peoplemaybe shed been more, once, than she ever let on to those who checked on such thingsbut the generations changed, the whole human race spun and raced toward tomorrow after tomorrow, and if you were twenty-five now you didnt know the rab that had been the young and the foolish and the seekers after personal truth. The rab is, theyd used to sayafter the Company man had said, No dealing with rabble. The rab is, and the rab will be, and screw the corp

Was it lover or her personal tomorrowlooking into her eyes and hanging on the words?

Shell get out, she told him, because she knew it was his mama he was brooding about; and maybe Cory. He didnt have many tracks left when he got this far down. She hit his arm, said, Rab is and rab does, jeune fils. And they shot us down. Dont forget that. Shot you down. I got nothing to teach you about being screwed.

She never cared about politics, Meg!

We got to do, got to do, jeune fils. Life is, death is, and thats all; but were here and they got to deal with that. They got to deal with us.

Dek had been a kid when the rab had lost its innocence, and the blood had run on the Company steps. Severely young, Dek still was, in some ways. She couldnt be, again; and she told it cold and plain as shed learned it herself: Theres no luck, jeune rab, things dont brut happen for no damn reason, and you arent it, forgive, cher. But nobody at this table, not me and not you and not Sal, is that important, that God is going to screw up somebody elses life to get you. I dunno who, I dunno why, but weve eliminated God as a suspect

Dek managed a laugh, a grin, and picked up his beer with his hand shaking. He drank a sip without spilling it. At least.

Hey, Sal said. They got the whole un Human Rights Commission asking to talk to your mama

But if they get her out shes not safe, Salazars people tried twice to kill me and got Jamil

Cher rab, are they going to risk stirring things up now? They got their ass on the line. They want quiet, soon as they can hush this up. When the corp-rats get caught, they always want a real quick silence.

He let go a sigh, shook his head.

Sal elbowed him. Take you on, cher. Billiards or poker?

Poker, it was. Ben pulled a chair back, set his beer down, said, cheerfully, Deal me in, and collected looks from his crewmates. He kept the smugness off his facethe reason was for Sals ears, for Dekker and Meg once the stuff went publicas would happen, he was sure, when Security found out what to do with the file that had landed in their laps.

Dekker asked, What did they want?

Oh, nothing.

Come on, Sal said.

Oh, Ben said, picking up cards, just a little tekkie stuff. Good hand, it was. There were nights a guy was On, and this was it.

Damn, there was stuff going to hit the news tomorrow.

Tekkie stuff, hell, Sal said. What was it?

Just a little advice. And access numbers and a nailpolish-sealed card. He laid down chips.

Didnt have to go to Stockholm to prove the Staatentek over the damned eidat, damn, no. Elegant equipment, they had on that carrier.

What advice?

He smiled, thinking about the morning news, and Mars-Corp, and Salazars personal memo file, and the wonderful, damning things it held.

Dont buy stock in eidat, Lendler or MarsCorp. Even at discount.

What have you got? Dekker asked sharply.

Wider smile. A winning hand, Dek-boy, odds area winning hand.

[THE END]