But she saw him, and her face lit, and merchanters moved, ordered aside left and right until their ranks drank him in and he could reach her.
Merchanter, and back with her own, and long off the solid deck of Pell. In the back of his mind had been doubt, a preparation for changes… that vanished with a look at her face. He kissed her, held onto her as she did him, afraid of hurting her she held him so tightly. He stood there with the whole horde of armed merchanters about them in a glittering haze, and inhaled the scent and the reality of her, kissed her again and knew that they had no time for talking, for questions, for anything.
“Took me quite a roundabout to get home,” she murmured.
He laughed madly, softly, looked about him and back at the Union forces, sober again. “You know what happened here?”
“Some. Most, maybe. We’ve been sitting out there… a long time. Waiting a point of no choice.” She shivered, tightened her arm about him. “Thought we’d lost it. Then Mazian did pull out, and we moved, from that moment Union’s got troubles, Damon. Union’s got to move on to Sol and they’ve got to do it with all their ships intact.”
“You can bet they do,” he said. “But don’t leave this dock. What’s got to be said, whatever talking you do with them, insist on doing here, on the dock; don’t walk into any small space where Azov can get troops between you and your ships. Don’t trust him.”
She nodded. “Understood. We’re just the edge of it, Damon; I speak for the merchanter interest. They want a neutral port the way things are going, and Pell’s it. I don’t think Pell objects.”
“No,” he said. “Pell doesn’t. Pell’s got some housecleaning to do.” He drew his first whole breath in minutes and followed her glance across the dock at Azov, at Josh standing with Union troops, expecting approach. “Bring a dozen with you and keep the rest guarding that access. Let’s see what Azov’s idea of reason encompasses.”
“The release,” Elene said firmly and softly, leaning on the table with one arm, “ — of the ship Hammer to the Olvig family; of Swan’s Eye to its proper owners; of any other merchanter ship confiscated for use by Union military. The strongest possible condemnation of the seizure and use of Genevieve. You may protest you’re not empowered to grant it; but you have the power of military decisions… on that level, sir, the release of the ships. Or embargo.”
“We do not recognize your organization.”
“That,” Damon interrupted, “rests with Union council. Pell recognizes their organization. And Pell is independent, captain, willing to afford you a port at the moment; but with means to deny it. I would hate to take that decision. We have a mutual enemy… but you would be tied up here, in long unpleasantness. And it might spread.”
There were, from the other side of the table — set up on the open dock and ringed by opposing semicircles of merchanters and troops — frowns. “It’s in our interest,” Azov admitted, “to see that this station doesn’t become a base for Mazianni operation; and that we cooperate in your protection… without which — you don’t stand great chance, for all your threats, Mr. Konstantin.”
“Mutual necessity,” Damon said levelly. “Rest assured that none of Mazian’s ships will ever be welcome at Pell. They are outlaws.”
“We have done you a service,” Elene said. “Merchanter ships have already headed for Sol far in advance of Mazian. One early enough to get there ahead of him; not much, but a little. Sol Station will be warned before he arrives.”
Azov’s face relaxed in surprise. That of the man beside him, delegate Ayres, froze, took on a sudden smile, with the glistening of tears in his eyes. “My gratitude,” Ayres said. “ — Captain Azov, I’d propose… close consultation and quick moves.”
“There seems reason for it,” Azov said. He pushed back from the table. “The station is secure. Our business is finished. Hours are valuable. If Sol is going to prepare a reception for this outlaw, we should be there to follow it up from behind.”
“Pell,” Damon said quietly, “will gladly assist your undocking. But the merchanter ships you’ve appropriated… stay.”
“We have crew aboard them. They come.”
“Take your crew. Those ships are merchanter property and they remain. So does Josh Talley. He’s a citizen of Pell.”
“No,” Azov said. “I don’t leave one of my own at your asking.”
“Josh,” Damon said, looking to the side and behind him, where Josh stood with other Union troops, at last inconspicuous among others likewise perfect. “How do you feel about it?”
Josh’s eyes slid past him, perhaps to Azov, returned to a forward stare. He said nothing.
“Take your troops and your ships,” Damon said to Azov. “If Josh stays, that’s his choice. Take Union presence off this station. You’ll be received for docking hereafter by request and by permission of the stationmaster’s office; it will be granted. But if time is of value to you, I’d suggest you take that offer and agree to it.”
Azov scowled. He signaled his troop officer, who ordered the units to form up. They walked away, headed for the upcurving horizon, for blue dock, where Unity was berthed.
And Josh was still standing there, alone. Elene got up and hugged him awkwardly and Damon clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay put here,” he said to Elene. “I’ve got a Union ship to get undocked. Josh, come on.”
“Neiharts,” Elene said to those nearest her. “See that they reach central in good order.”
They went behind the Union forces; took the niner corridor as the Unioners headed for their ship, started to run. In the corridors there were doors open, the folk of Pell standing there to observe. Some began to shout, to wave, cheers for this last, merchanters’ occupation. “They’re ours,” someone yelled. “They’re ours!”
They took the emergency ramp, came upward at a run; Downers met them in it, scampered along, bounced and bounded and chattered welcomes. The whole spiral echoed with Downer shrieks and squeals and human yells from the corridors outside as the word spread from level to level. A few Unioners passed on the way down, headed out at instructions over helmet com, likely feeling very conspicuous where they were.
They came out in blue one. Downers were back in occupation of central, and grinned welcome at them through the wide-open doors.
“You friends,” Bluetooth said. “You friends, all?”
“It’s all right,” Damon assured him, and worked his way past a crowd of anxious brown bodies to settle himself at the main board. He looked back, at Josh, at the merchanters. “Anyone here who knows this kind of comp?”
Josh settled into place by him. One of the Neiharts took com, another one settled into another comp post. Damon keyed through to com. “Norway,” he said, “you’ve got first release. I trust you’ll ease out without provocations. We don’t need complications.”
“Thank you, Pell,” Mallory’s dry voice came back. “I like your priorities.”
“Hurry it down there. Have your own troops undock you. You can come in again when we’re stable and pick them up. Agreed? They’ll be safe.”
“Pell station,” another voice cut in: Azov’s. “Agreements specified no welcome for Mazianni, This one is ours.”