“They want your ship! Let's get out of here.” Shadow Jack pushed away toward the door, pulled aside the flaps, froze. Betha turned. Facing him, in a wine-red jacket flawlessly embroidered, was the man who worked for the government. Impeccable … The man's eyes fixed on her in return, and on Shadow Jack. He stared, incredulous, and she knew that this time he was staring at wild, filthy hair and streaked faces. Not at her paleness—she knew from his eyes that her face held no surprises for him. “Captain Torgussen,” he nodded. “And not from Lansing—obviously.”
“You have the advantage of me,” Betha said. “I'm afraid I've forgotten your name.”
He smiled. It hardened as he turned to the Tirikis, making a bow. “And just what does Tiriki Distillates want with the starship?” His hand found the front of Shadow Jack's suit, pushed him back into the room. “I guess you weren't kidding, boy, when you told us what you do for a living.”
“Who are you?” the woman asked, indignant.
“Wadie Abdhiamal, representing the Demarchy government.”
“Government?” The man made a face. “Then this is none of your business, Abdhiamal. Butt out before you get into trouble.”
“That's monopolist talk, Tiriki. And I think you've got the ideas to go with it. I'm here on business—these people and their ship are what I came to Mecca to find. The government has claimed the ship in the name of all the people of the Demarchy.”
“Your government claims don't hold air, Abdhiamal.” The man glanced down at his reflection on the counter top, readjusting his soft beret. “You know you've got nothin' to back them up. We found these two first, and we're keeping them.”
“Public opinion will back me up. Nobody's goin' to let Tiriki have total control of that ship. I'll call a public hearing—”
“Use my screen.” The man pointed. “When we tell the people how the government has been goin' behind the Demarchy's back looking for the starship, they're not goin' to hear a word you say. You'll be out before you know what happened, and I mean out of everything.”
“But you'll be out one starship—and that's all that matters to me. Set up a hearing.”
The woman moved toward the wall screen.
“Just a damn minute!” Betha turned desperately, caught them all in a look. “Sixty seconds—one minute, where I come from—to mention some things you seem to have forgotten about my ship. One, it is my ship. And two, only I know where it is. And three, if you think you'll get it without my full cooperation, you're wrong. My crew will destroy it before they'll let it be taken—and that will destroy any ship that gets within three thousand kilometers of it.” Shadow Jack came back to her side, his face questioning. The others were silent, waiting, their frustration and greed sucking at her like flames. “Now, then. You seem to have reached an impasse. But I came here to make a deal, and I'm still willing to make a deal—since I don't think I have any other choice. I doubt if you'll let us leave, in any case.
“So … suppose each of you tell me why you want my ship so much, and then I'll tell you who gets it. And it wouldn't hurt if you mention what's in it for me—” Rusty began to struggle, clawing for a foothold on her slick suiting. She saw Abdhiamal watch the cat, smile with irrelevant fascination before he met her gaze in turn. He didn't answer; waiting for the opposition, she thought. “Well?” She turned away, afraid of him, afraid of herself, afraid to let him see it.
The Tirikis spoke softly together. They faced her finally, beautiful and determined. “Your ship would build up our business—and revolutionize the Demarchy's trade. The way things stand we don't have all the snow we need where it's easy to get at; we have to go to the Rings, and it's a hard trip with nuclear-electric rockets. And the Ringers make it even harder, because they know we can't do anythin' that would threaten our allotments of gases. If we had your ship we wouldn't have to depend on them. Your ship would make the Demarchy a better place to live.… You could continue to captain it, work for us. We'll pay you well. You'll be part of the richest, most powerful company in the Demarchy—”
“And when the Demarchy objects, that company will make your ship into a superweapon and take over.” Abdhiamal held her eyes.
She felt her eyelids flicker; he slipped out of focus as she shook her head, denying. “No one will use my ship as a weapon. Not even you, Abdhiamal, if that's why you want it.”
“The government wants it so it won't become a weapon and bring on a new civil war. God knows, the old one's still killin' us. Somebody's got to see that the ship is used for the good of the whole Demarchy, and not turned against us. It could be the stimulus we need to revive the whole Belt, the technology you have on board. We might be able to duplicate your ramscoop, build our own, reestablish some kind of regular communication outside the Demarchy. You could help us—”
“Don't listen to him!” the woman said. “We're the government, we, the people. He's got no authority to do anythin'. You'd be torn apart by everybody who wants your ship. He can't protect you. Stay with us. We'll take care of you.” She lifted her hands. “You've got nowhere else to turn.” Betha recognized the threat behind it.
“They'll take care of you, all right,” Shadow Jack whispered. His gloved hand caught Betha's wrist, squeezing until it bruised. “Don't do it, Betha! They're all liars. You can't trust any of 'em.”
“Shadow Jack.” She turned slowly, her hand still locked in his, and touched him with her eyes. He let go; she saw the anger drain out of him, leaving his face empty. “What about the hydrogen—for Lansing?”
“We'll send them a shipment; whatever they need.”
“And you?” She faced Abdhiamal again. “Is it true that your promises are worthless?”
“The government only does the Demarchy's pleasure. Why don't we ask the Demarchy? We'll call a general meeting, and let you tell them all about your ship. Tell everyone the location—but warn 'em too, to keep away—tell them what you told us. Then nobody will be at an advantage. I'll tell them what your ship could mean to all of them, to the whole Belt. Everybody will have a hand in decidin' how to make the best use of the opportunity, the way things were designed to be done.… The Demarchy means you no harm, Captain. But we need your help. Give it to us, and you can name your own reward.”
“Anything but a ticket home.” Shadow Jack searched her face; she averted her eyes.
“All right.” She reached down for Rusty's carrying case, forced herself to look at Abdhiamal again. “Abdhiamal, I'll try it your way.…”
He smiled, and she couldn't see behind it; she fought the desire to trust him. “Thanks.” He turned to the Tirikis. “Set up a meeting.”
“No. Wait.” Betha shook her head. “Not here. I want to be on my ship when I make the announcement. If everyone has to know where it is, some lunatic will try to take it no matter what I say. I have to be there, to countermand my orders; I don't want to lose my ship now. I'm sure you don't, either?” She looked back at him. “We'll take you to the ship; we can broadcast from there.… After all, it's not going to get away from you without fuel, is it?”
“I suppose not. And I suppose you're right.” He nodded once, watching the Tirikis. “Okay, I'll accept your terms.”
“Go with 'em, Abdhiamal.” Esrom Tiriki's voice mocked him. “That'll give us plenty of time to spread the news of this; the mediamen will tear you apart. By the time you call a meetin' you'll be public enemy number one. Nobody will listen to you then. You can count on it.” His hand jerked at the counter's edge, chopping down.
She saw Abdhiamal's smile tighten. “Let's get goin', then.”