The colonel led the way down deserted hallways and into his outer office—and because it was the last thing he expected at that hour, he was three steps into the room before his eyes registered the visitor waiting there for him.
He stopped abruptly, combat senses flaring with the surprise; but the other showed no signs of hostility as he scrambled to his feet. "Colonel Meredith?" he asked, his casual stance and tone immediately tagging him a civilian.
"Yes," Meredith acknowledged. "You?"
"Dr. Peter Hafner—I'm a geologist with Dr. Patterson's group. Sorry about the hour, but your secretary said I could wait until you got in."
"No problem," Meredith assured him, making a mental note to set up new guidelines on such things. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, sir, I've been trying to arrange for a flyer and pilot to run me out to Mt.
Olympus, but everyone I've talked to says the flyers have been grounded."
"You haven't heard about the crash?" Meredith asked sourly.
"Yes, sir, I have; and I'm sorry about the loss of its crew. But everything I've heard indicates the accident was a fluke, some aberration of the plasma itself and not an actual equipment malfunction—"
"Whoa. An aberration caused by what?"
"Maybe a rogue solar flare or something—/ don't know. The point is it's very unlikely the other flyers would run into the same problem."
"Unlikely's not good enough," Meredith said, shaking his head. "Until we have a better idea of what went wrong you'll just have to make do with cars or the Cessnas."
"Neither of which will be of much use," Hafner sighed. "I understand your concern, Colonel, but please recognize I'm not talking about some abstract search for knowledge here. Astra has got to have some metal somewhere, and if it's not in the crust it must be deeper down. If volcanos like Olympus show any evidence at all of metal content in their rocks, it'll offer a reasonable alternative to the asteroid mining you have planned."
Meredith held up a hand. "Doctor, it's late and I've had a very hard day. If you'll file a formal request with Martello Base, you'll be put on the list for whenever the flyers are put back into service. Until then, I repeat, the cars and planes are all we have." A footstep behind him made him turn: Andrews, back from returning their car to the pool. "Now, if you'll excuse us," he added, "Lieutenant Andrews will escort you out. Good night, Doctor."
Hafner grimaced slightly, but had the sense not to argue. "Good night, Colonel.
Thank you for your time."
The geologist left, followed closely by Andrews. Unlocking his office door, Meredith ushered in Carmen and waved her to a seat. "Now," he said, sinking into his desk chair, "tell me about Perez."
He listened in silence for the few minutes it took to recount her conversation with Dunlop's alleged riot leader. "He seemed pretty sincere, Colonel," she said when she had finished.
"I'm sure he did," Meredith nodded. "Whether he was or not is another story. A
massive plot to press-gang Hispanics is a bit hard to swallow."
"I know." She paused. "There do seem to be a lot of Hispanics here, though."
Meredith shrugged. "The climate here approximates the Southwest, and we needed people experienced in farming sandy soils. That focuses on the area where Hispanics are already concentrated, so what's the big deal?"
Carmen shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir. But even if nothing … unfair … has occurred, there's still that perception. I was thinking on the way back … perhaps you could set up something like a city council in each of the towns. Not with any real power," she added quickly, correctly interpreting his expression. "It would be more of an advisory sort of body, a clearinghouse for complaints and suggestions."
"We already have channels like that set up," he reminded her.
"Yes, but … " She pursed her lips. "It's all organized along military lines. The civilians may not feel comfortable with that; I know it took me a while to get used to military procedure and I was raised in an Army home."
"What you're suggesting is that I give them the illusion of democracy without the substance." Meredith shook his head. "It'd be more trouble than it's worth. You'd add top-heaviness to the administrative sector, inject a battalion-worth of unnecessary political maneuvering and infighting, and generally use up man-hours for no net gain."
"The gain would rest in smoother cooperation between civilians and military," she countered.
"Technically speaking, Miss Olivero, there are no civilians on Astra. Everyone is under military rule and law, and if some of them don't like it, I'm sorry. They'll get used to it in time." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better let you go; it's getting late.
I'll want a formal report from you for the file, but there's no particular rush."
"Yes, sir." She recognized the dismissal and stood up, but then hesitated.
"Colonel? What are you going to do about Major Dunlop?"
"Whatever I do, it won't be because of Perez's veiled threats," Meredith told her shortly.
She swallowed. "Yes, sir. Good night, Colonel."
"Good night."
He gazed at the closed door for several seconds after she was gone, wondering what exactly he'd done to deserve such a day. Then, with a sigh, he turned to his computer terminal and flicked it on. The screen lit up but remained blank; apparently the underground light-pipe network was still generating problems.
Cursing under his breath, he turned the machine off and buzzed for Andrews.
"Yes, sir?" the aide said as he entered.
"I hate to do this to you. Lieutenant, but I've got a couple of projects I want started right away, and I'm just too dog-tired to hunt up a working terminal."
"That's all right, Colonel," Andrews said, pulling out a notebook and sitting down.
"I'm fine." He looked it, too, though Meredith knew for a fact that the other hadn't had any more sleep lately than he had.
"Okay. First off, I want every scrap of information we've got on Cristobal Perez.
Not just his colonist file; check to see if any military, educational, or employment records came to Astra with us. Second, I want farm equipment assembly bumped a couple of levels up on the priority charts—and for the time being have some of the planting equipment in Crosse shifted up to Ceres. The farmers in Crosse are sitting on their hands now anyway."
He paused. Andrews finished writing and nodded. "Anything else?"
"Yes." Meredith hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I want you to work up a list of possible replacements for CO at Ceres."
Andrews looked up in obvious surprise. "You're transferring Major Dunlop?"
"I don't know. I haven't yet made up my mind."
Andrews toyed with his pen. "The major's pretty popular with his men," he said obliquely. "He has a reputation for sticking up for the common soldier, making sure they get all the rights and privileges they have coming."
"I know," Meredith nodded. "But that 'us versus them' mentality is exactly what's going to lose him the support and confidence of the civilians in Ceres. We can't afford unnecessary friction."
"I understand mat, Colonel. But … you know it's going to look like you're giving in to pressure."
"Of course it is—and I hate the signal that'll send. If Dunlop hadn't fired from the hip like he did I'd back him all the way; but as it is I either look like a coward or someone whose orders can be ignored with impunity. Either way, I give someone the wrong idea." He shrugged. "If you can come up with a better idea I'll be glad to listen."
"Yes, sir." Andrews stood up and put away his notebook, and for just a second a smile twitched at his lips. "I'll see what I can come up with in that department. In the meantime, I'll get busy on these other things."