"All right, we’re in," the captain said.
Tang Ya watched his console. "They’re bringing up the dock access tube; Thorson is overseeing the mate—" He frowned as a query light blinked. "It appears that they insist on controlling life support from their end."
Jellico looked up in question. Rael said, "Standard procedure, as you’ll see when you have time to read their contract. We didn’t like it either, though it turned out to have a benefit we hadn’t planned for: dangerous biota from all three races are automatically filtered out. Our filters weren’t that prepared."
Jellico turned back to Ya and gave a short nod. The comtech touched the intercom and said, "Go ahead, Thorson."
A flurry of activity then began, as both the crew of the Solar Queen and the dockside workers made the Queen fast, hooking up each life-support system and checking it before the Queen relinquished control. Once that was completed would begin the age-old process of negotiation for services and fees. Rael Cofort stayed out of the way; this was not her job, though she could help in an emergency. Right now her best help would be not to clutter the paths of the others.
So she moved toward one of the ports near the outer lock and glanced out. Though the Solar Queen herself was still in vacuum, the berthing equipment included a long tube bent at right angles, connecting the Queen to a lock giving them access into the habitat. Long strips at intervals on the tube were clear, affording her a view of anyone coming or going.
For a short time suited workers signaled back and forth as each system was locked in, checked, and equalized; then at last the green-go lights flashed. Moments later there was movement in the tube, indicating arrivals. From her vantage she could see the locutor moving toward the Queen at a rapid pace, with two or three minor officials scurrying behind. She glanced up, saw Frank Mura also looking out—and was surprised to see a look of strain on his face.
Her lips parted, but she repressed the exclamation she’d been about to make. Almost immediately Mura turned away from the port and retreated to his cabin off the galley. She heard the door hiss closed.
Once again she glanced out, this time trying to see the Kanddoyds with the eyes of a newcomer. They were mammalian beings, bipeds, and they had two arms, two legs, and a head, but there the resemblance between Terrans and Kanddoyds ended. Every centimeter of what would be skin on a human was protected by intersecting layers of chitinous material; the effect was a kind of elaborate armor, augmented by the decorations the beings were so fond of. Their heads were small, well protected by conical, flared chitin rather like a helmet; their carapaces were segmented, and also looked like armor. Not just any armor, but...
She frowned, reaching back in memory. She’d studied Terran history, and knew she’d seen something rather like the Kanddoyds before.
She turned away from the port, and her gaze fell by chance on one of the tiny trees Mura nurtured, and suddenly she had it.
Samurai warriors, ronin—the Kanddoyds looked like armored warriors from the days of Bushido in Japan.
Rael winced. Frank Mura did not talk about the cataclysm that had destroyed the Japanese islands, homeland of his people for countless generations, but she had studied the effects of cataclysm on people. They were capable of grieving for generations.
Should she say anything? No. But she’d watch, and listen.
Dane wedged himself between the curve of a bulkhead and a wall in the mess. Eleven of the Queen's thirteen were there. Looking around, Dane realized that Steen and Rip had remained on the Starvenger. And this time they weren’t radio-linked with the Queen.
As if following Dane’s thoughts, Captain Jellico said, "The two who go out to the salvage ship on the next rotation can report to Wilcox and Shannon. I don’t want the comlink used unless there’s an emergency either way. This place has communication technology that we’ve probably never heard of. We don’t know who might be listening in, and why, and there’s no use in finding out the hard way. For now we’ll do our reports in person."
He paused and looked around. The others all nodded or made murmurs of agreement. Jellico’s hard mouth lost some of its tension as he turned his gaze to Frank Mura.
The compact, quiet-faced steward said, "I calculated what we have against the latest posted exchange rates, minus the value of Macgregory’s letter, and what it amounts to is this: we can buy ourselves a Terran week or maybe two to resolve our business—if everyone sleeps on board the Queen."
A couple of people sighed, and Dane grimaced in sympathy. He hated living in microgravity, and made a mental note to find the equivalent of a Kanddoyd public gym—if there was such a thing—down at the one-grav section, so he could work out and not lose his muscle tone. And to eat, if I can, he thought, remembering unfondly how spectacularly messy food spills were in micrograv.
"I’ll visit the legate and see if there’s a way to shorten this registry process," the captain went on. "What will take all of your ingenuity, Van, is your managing to turn this cargo around."
Van Ryke smiled broadly. Dane couldn’t help grinning at the blatant anticipation in his superior’s face—the man lived for just such a challenge.
Jasper Weeks said soberly, "We listened to the entire Concord." He indicated himself and Kosti, who nodded. "From the sound of their regulations and formalities, it’s going to take longer than from here to Terra in hyper jump to get the salvage claim going."
Jellico nodded. "I know. I heard it out as well. It seems to be the Kanddoyd way—a dozen extra visits for every piece of business, so that no one ever has to say no, and thus everyone saves face. This is why I’m going first to the legate. Ross is here to look out for the interests of Terrans. He ought to be able to tell me how to make this as quick and painless as possible."
Again there were murmurs of agreement. They’d had some run-ins with the Patrol in the past, but for strange reasons that had eventually been proven not their fault. Even if the Patrol were somewhat rough and ready in their approach to problems, Dane thought, no one had ever accused them of corruption or unfairness.
"We’re now on dirtside shift schedule," Jellico said. "I’ve posted the rotations to the Starvenger; you’ll each serve, in pairs, forty-eight Standard hours. Off limits are the domiciles of the Shver and Kanddoyds—stay in the Exchange areas. Also, stay away from the warehousing areas of the Spin Axis. Dr. Cofort?" He turned suddenly to the woman. "Explain?"
Rael Cofort said, "You won’t find any mention of this in the official tapes, but there’s a lawless element living up there. Apparently even the Monitors of Harmony, which is what they call their peace enforcers, don’t go up there—at least the Kanddoyd ones don’t go. The Shver arm of the Monitors do, but that’s to keep an eye out for the Deathguard, which is a very dangerous gang of Shver outcasts who make their living through hiring out as assassins. There are other kinds of outcasts there as well, and my brother told me once that high-caste Shver sometimes go hunting the denizens there, for sport, and no one does anything about it. The Kanddoyds just pretend the area doesn’t exist."
"So this supposed Harmony is a sham?" Mura asked, frowning.
Cofort shook her head. "Oh, it’s stable enough—at least when we came here before, there had apparently never been any major trouble since the Concord was first hammered out. And the Kanddoyds are very friendly beings. The Shver are rather different."