The plaintiff said, “Crypto-sealed, baby. The judge here is a geek; he can check it.”
The defendant said, “But — but I didn’t know he’d video it! I can’t buy this stuff. It’s illegal.”
“Here it’s not,” said Garrett. “I suggest not taking anything off this station, but you won’t be punished by us for using it here. Anyway you’re already on record as having tried to buy it. So the question is, would you rather forfeit the price you owe and get nothing, or pay the same and get what you bargained for?”
“I really won’t be punished?” she said.
“Not by us. I don’t know what your country will do.”
The plaintiff said, “I’ll take half pay, if she wants to back out.”
The defendant bit her lip. “I’ll pay and… take the stuff.”
“Deal?” asked Garrett.
The plaintiff offered a tightly-bound package. “Deal.”
Garrett watched as drugs and Brazilian reals changed hands. He thought, I just orchestrated a drug deal! His palms were sweaty. He could sit there silently and let it happen… but it would be better to say something. The occasion demanded it. He didn’t want this whole thing to be a slinking back-alley deal, or to make him look guilty.
He stood and called out, “Know, everyone, that this is a decision reached by peaceful negotiation between free adults! Does anyone here challenge their right to do this thing?” The words felt stiff and formal, but somehow right. “Then let it be so!”
He sat again, sweating. “Next case.”
Eaton was wandering around the seastead when he spotted Garrett. “What would you have done, if someone had objected?”
Garrett hadn’t had a plan, but he said, “Ask them why their opinion overrides other people’s. I’m hoping we don’t need to get more formal.”
“You will, if this lasts. How can I arrange to try working in the fields? I’m curious about that.”
“Talk to Phillip.” Eaton grimaced and Garrett said, “Phillip isn’t a bad administrator. I’ve learned to tolerate him. But if you really don’t want to deal with him, I’ve got Carlos Mar coming from the usual Cuba dive shop to do rentals. I’ll take you out myself if you want.”
Eaton looked at the boats anchored around Castor. “Which boat is he?”
“He’s coming tomorrow.” Garrett pointed to the current visiting vessels. “That one over there is a party boat, that one’s showing up every few days as a general store, the blue one does clear-bottom kayak tours and snorkeling, and those guys walking on the catwalks are going to set up a restaurant, I think.”
“Jesus.”
Garrett smiled and shrugged. “They are walking on water.”
“Fair amount of money here,” said Eaton.
“Isn’t it great? This isn’t what I had in mind for Castor, but… wow. And to think I did this.”
“No. You just kept out of people’s way.”
“Did you see me pretending to know what I was doing today? I’m putting in plenty of work.”
“I’m not criticizing,” said Eaton. “I’m saying, be glad to let people live their lives and don’t go thinking their achievements are yours.”
Garrett drooped a little, chastened. “Then, I’m proud of what people can do when they’re free to do it.”
“Well said.”
One hundred. Garrett patrolled the station one night when clouds hid the moon and the sea feigned calm. He and Zephyr had counted and re-counted the array of people on Castor, or wandering nearby with their boats docked beside it. The population tonight was about a hundred, and it annoyed Garrett not to be quite sure. He climbed ladders, looked down halls of occupied rooms, saw murals on the walls, heard a party somewhere. Machines hummed around him. Castor was a vast mechanism absorbing the energy of the sea and turning it into life, from the churn of bacteria in the toilets to the shine of lights that made Castor a tiny star in the darkness. He’d gathered engineers, a soldier, chefs, businessmen, cultists, criminals, tourists, a robot, hoteliers, gamblers, and sailors, and it made him shiver with worry to see how far the place had strayed from his little farm design. Still, he was on track. The important thing was the science, the proof that it was possible to be out here and make a life for himself. The basic equation was profit versus loss, testing him against nature, and he’d managed to deal both with that and with the distractions people kept throwing at him.
Garrett passed his own room and looked inside. He grinned when he saw the inherited wooden box of Josiah’s things. Taking out the old spyglass, he hopped up to the topdeck and climbed the ladder to the highest spot of all. He hung onto the flagpole beneath the Stars and Stripes. The warm wind ruffled his hair and made his jacket flap like wings as he stood on a tower, staring into heaven.
The spyglass showed him the sweep of the ocean, from the buoys of Castor to the horizon. Even now with the crescent moon peeking between clouds, people were at work or play. Boats jostled at the docks and two figures, a man and a woman in grey, walked the nets together. He looked away to give them their privacy. Farther out, there was yet another boat on its way.
Garrett squinted and focused on it, though he could hardly see the details. The little thing was kicking up a wake, and there were a bunch of guys sitting in it, wearing ski masks.
He lowered the spyglass. A second later he was racing down the ladder and into his office. He grabbed the nearest computer, fumbled it and yelled, “Emergency!”
Zephyr was the first responder. “Alarm?”
“Yes! We’re under attack by—”
An incredible slamming noise came from outside, rattling things. Garrett said, “That!”
Castor’s speakers blared an alarm. “Waking Tess. What do we do?”
Garrett had plans for hurricanes, equipment failures, and medical crises, but not an attack by people with explosives. He hadn’t thought anyone would bother. Time to improvise. He said, “Scan the sensors for threats. Put out a distress call and get people sheltered in Dockside. If they’ve got dive knives or guns, now’s a good time for them.”
“Aye aye!”
Garrett peeked out from the room and gasped. A section of the deck was burning, with a hole in the concrete and a solar panel. The attackers’ boat was out of sight. Had they gone? No; he heard the motor and voices screaming while the siren blared. “Where’s Eaton?”
“Unknown. His room is 4B.”
That was on the South Tower side — Garrett started running — while the obvious place to board would be North Tower. Dockside. Damn. He called out, “Zephyr, shelter somewhere that’s not Dockside!” But he wasn’t wearing a headset. Never mind; he’d get Eaton first.
Eaton was stepping out of his room with a backpack over his shoulder. “Captain! Robbers?”
“How did you know?”
“People and money, minus law and order. I thought this’d be a good time to visit.”
Garrett saw Eaton as an experienced fighter who’d survived unknown horrors. “What do we do? There’s a boatload of armed men coming. Help!”
Eaton grabbed Garrett’s shoulders. “Deep breath.”
Garrett forced himself to calm down a little. “Should we surrender and hope they leave us alive?”
“Bad bet. You’re the boss; you can join your people in getting robbed, or you can fight.” Eaton put down the backpack and unzipped it.
Guns.
Garrett sucked in a breath. “But it’s been years since I’ve used one.” Clay pigeons, with his father. He couldn’t shoot a man!
“I brought these on the hunch you might want them. I’m here to help with more than your fields, but I won’t die for nothing. If you won’t raise a gun to defend yourself, I’m going to escape on my own. Hurry and decide.”