Elisa Enturi was punctual and businesslike, as always. OK led her to their table, and Xander introduced everyone. Elisa gave them a cool smile. “Good to see the pilots of the Verne decided to bring my proposal to the highest levels of Kett Shipping.” She sat, but didn’t bother to clip herself in place; she seemed comfortable with or without gravity. “We’ll all benefit greatly from this.”
Tasia held up a hand and shot a sidelong look at her son. “Not so fast. We don’t know about your proposal. And we do have questions.”
Elisa raised her eyebrows. “Questions? Hasn’t the ekti-X been selling well?”
“Wonderfully well,” Robb said in a conciliatory tone. “But it’s not all about profit.”
“Really? I was hoping to expand our agreement to provide regular loads of stardrive fuel for at least five more Kett Shipping vessels. Our output is still increasing, and there’s a consistent demand. It’s business—it is about profit.”
“But where does your ekti-X come from?” Tasia asked. “I’m familiar with ekti-harvesting operations, old Ildiran skymines, nebula skimmers, hydrogen extraction from cometary clouds. I know how cost-intensive it is and how difficult. But… Iswander Industries—by the Guiding Star, where is it all coming from?”
“We have alternative methods of production,” Elisa said.
A waiter appeared, but Elisa gave him a slight shake of her head, and he backed away. She returned her gaze to Tasia and Robb, and Xander felt as if she were ignoring him entirely.
“Ekti-X is our proprietary discovery, our industry, and our profits. Lee Iswander just recovered from a severe setback that would have ended most careers, but he is resilient and innovative. Let him keep his secrets and don’t begrudge him his success.”
Robb raised his hands. “We didn’t say we begrudged it, but if we’re going to be distributing ekti-X, we want to know its source.”
“And I cannot tell you. Those are the terms. Iswander Industries has a growing supply of stardrive fuel to distribute. Do you want to be part of it, or should I contact other shipping companies?” Her expression was completely bland, as if she didn’t care a whit which option Tasia and Robb chose.
Xander interjected, “Ekti-X is a high-quality product, and it practically sells itself.”
Terry added, “Not to mention, we’re getting a good reputation as trade pilots. You should see your son in action—he’s getting to be a pretty good negotiator!”
Tasia and Robb looked at each other, weighing options. Elisa sat motionless, as if counting down seconds in her mind. Xander felt anxious, and when his mother saw his pleading expression, that was enough to tip the scale in their favor.
“All right,” Tasia said. “Draw up the paperwork, and we’ll look it over—but I think we have a deal.” Of course there were logical and commercial reasons to accept the contract, but she made her choice because she knew it would benefit her son. “From now on, Kett Shipping will be your ekti-X distributor.”
EIGHTY-SIX
GARRISON REEVES
As he flew the Prodigal Son at the end of another debris-mapping mission, Garrison was delayed outside the Lunar Orbital Complex because CDF ships were engaged in maneuvers. Newly commissioned Manta cruisers flitted through an obstacle course in the space rubble in a shakedown exercise.
After one of the rookie Manta pilots collided with a spinning rock fragment and tumbled off course, the pilot had to anchor the damaged cruiser to an asteroid and call for repair teams. The shutdown of the obstacle course and the mounting of emergency response crews delayed all traffic around the LOC.
Garrison had to park the Prodigal Son in a distant orbit, out of the way. And wait.
Finishing this run had earned Garrison two days of R&R, but he was banking his time so he could take a longer trip to Academ to see his son. He missed Seth, but the boy loved his school, and Garrison realized this was what life should have been for a normal Roamer boy. He wished Dale had kept his two sons at Academ, so Seth could have gotten to know his cousins.
Finally, when the space traffic was released again and the delayed ships could dock, Garrison parked the Prodigal Son in its assigned slot and then requisitioned fuel and a standard maintenance check. He got to his station quarters three hours later than expected, and was taken aback to discover a message tacked to his door. It was a handwritten note from Lubai, the green priest who did freelance work in the LOC’s exchange. “Garrison Reeves: I received an urgent message for you through the worldforest network. See me immediately.”
A chill poured through his bloodstream. Seth! Something must have happened to Seth. He should have gotten this message three hours earlier.
He raced into the exchange marketplace just in time for a new lunch crowd. He jostled his way past the entertainment kiosks and the clashing smells of different food stalls until he reached the green priest, only to find Lubai occupied with another customer. Lubai was bent over his treeling, eyes closed, while a young CDF soldier dictated a letter to her husband who was stationed on Theroc.
Garrison fidgeted, trying to catch the attention of the green priest. Countless scenarios played through his imagination. After rescuing Seth from Sheol and the bloater explosion, it would be an unbearable irony if the boy had suffered an accident in the supposedly safe environment of the Roamer school.
The female soldier continued talking to the green priest, an intimate, romantic message for the husband she missed so much. As he eavesdropped, Garrison felt a pang, knowing that Elisa had never felt that way about him. Finally, the soldier noticed him and looked embarrassed at what he must have heard; she left quickly.
Lubai looked up. “Garrison Reeves—I expected you’d come sooner.”
“There was a delay. What’s your urgent message? Is it my son?”
“No, not your son…” He paused, looked at Garrison with a deep and intense gaze. “It’s the rest of your clan.”
Garrison couldn’t understand what he meant. Lubai gestured for him to take a seat on the hard metal bench across from the treeling. “There was a deadly plague on the space city where clan Reeves made their new home. Their green priest, Shelud, sent messages of their explorations, the discoveries of an alien race. Then Roamers began to get sick. They started to die. Your brother Dale, his family, your cousins… such a tragedy.”
Garrison stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. “A plague? How many are dead? And what about my father?”
“All dead.” Lubai hesitated. “As they fell ill, Shelud went from deathbed to deathbed, interviewing them, speaking their words into the worldforest network. Many had a chance to pass along final messages. A woman named Sendra wished to say goodbye to you. And Olaf Reeves… he was still alive when Shelud sent his last message. But he too was already sick.” The green priest shook his head.
“When did this happen?”
“We lost contact with Shelud more than a day ago. Even then, he was one of the last ones left alive.”
Garrison felt weak. His arms were trembling as he rested them on the table.
In a compassionate voice, Lubai said, “Here, let me tell you everything.” He touched his treeling, dipped his mind into the forest database, and repeated the messages Shelud had delivered, told the whole story, the spread of the disease, Dale and his family dying, Sendra’s farewell…
Garrison’s eyes refused to focus, and he felt light-headed. It was too much to take in at once—his brother and Sendra, their two boys… all dead now because Olaf Reeves had dragged them away from civilization, away from everything.