… civilized powers couldn’t keep the Mazianni out of them, and the Military had dismantled the stations.
So they said.
“Tink. “ He felt stupid asking, at this late date. “Where are we going?”
“Tripoint. Just Tripoint to Viking.”
So mundane it shook him, after the giddy speculation he’d just made. He wasn’t even sure he’d have believed it, if it hadn’t come from Tink.
“Where’s the Fleet connection?” he asked. It was just the three of them in the galley, Tink, Jamal, himself.
And a silence.
Then: “Tripoint,” Tink said. That was all. The silence outweighed curiosity, reminding him Tink wasn’t innocent. Saby wasn’t. Nobody on this ship was. Now he wasn’t, because he’d voluntarily come back aboard.
He’d been in a position, while he was free, to do everything Marie would have done—whatever it might have cost him. But he hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted to—thinking about himself. Then Tink. Then Saby, after which… he guessed now he was where he wanted to be, scared, lost—queasy at the stomach as the burn kept up, getting them up to the v Pell would let them carry in its inner zones.
And very, very lonely, just now. Cut off from everything and everyone he’d grown up with. From everything he’d been taught was right and wrong, good and bad.
Burn cut out.
“That’s about 10 kips,” Tink said. “Out and away from Downbelow’s pull. We’re outbound now.”
“How long have we got? Days? Hours?”
“Four hours inside the slow zones,” Jamal said. “Two meals to two shifts, fast as we can turn ‘em, and all the resupply at the posts. You make coffee?”
“I can learn. “ He stood away from the wall, steady on his feet. Movement was starting down the corridor, a drift of mainday crew past the tables… “Serving line’s not open yet,”
Jamal yelled out, which roused no complaint, but faces were grim-Ship, he heard. People weren’t happy, and it didn’t have to do with the line not being open. While Jamal and Tink hauled the serving-pans out and settled them on the counter, he opened up the cabinet and got out the coffee and the filters, listening all the while.
Something about a ship following them.
Marie? he asked himself. His heart skipped a beat, two, recalling what Austin had said, that Marie might come here.
Then he heard another word. Mazianni. And he stopped cold, asking himself what in hell was going on, that Corinthian had to worry.
Didn’t they supply the Fleet? Weren’t they on the same side?
He looked at Tink. Tink looked grim, too.
“Aren’t they friendlies?” he asked Tink. “What are they talking about?”
“Dunno,” Tink said. “But, no, they ain’t, all of’ em. Not by a long shot.”
—ii—
“I DON’T FEEL SORRY FOR YOU,” Austin said, for openers. “Not one damn bit. Am I going to hear you whimper, or what?”
“You don’t get to hear anything,” Christian said, and sank into the well-worn interview chair. “You’re not interested. Do I get to go back to the bridge now? We’ve got a ship pulled away from dock. You might be interested.”
“You have a seriously maladjusted psyche, Mr. Bowe.”
“I have a seriously warped sense of values, captain, sir, that would indicate to me the captain might have advised me, rather than leave me and the second chief navigator outside the information loop. I hope you enjoyed your joke. I hope you enjoyed it a lot. Because thanks to our rattling around back there on Pell docks, that’s a Mazianni spotter behind us. That’s a ship called Silver Dream, based at Fargone, if you haven’t noticed before this.”
“Let me recall how, also leading to this event, we had a deal with an Earth-bound ship that I didn’t authorize. Let me recall…”
“Let me recall we’re not talking about a personal matter. If Family Boy and cousin Saby want to screw each other blue in lower main, fine, that’s their judgment, I’m glad they had a good time while we were turning the bars upside down and knocking on every door on Pell. So that’s all right, they’re in a room somewhere on your credit, thanks ever so much—but the burning question’s still that ship back there. I’m sorry I blacked brother’s eye, just for God’s sake pay attention to what I’m saying.”
“Attention? Did I hear the word, Attention?”
“Listen to me! Damn you, will you just one time listen to me?”
“Mister, I have the most shocking revelation for you. Your discoveries of the universe are twenty years behind mine, your insights and your wisdom do not overreach my own, your outrage at the situation does not outmatch mine, and I am moved at this moment to leave this chair and explain to you physically the same rules my father explained to me the week I made my own most egregious mistake, except that I swore that I’d lean a bit heavier on communication and a little less to the fist. Which I do, in consequence.—So what was it you had to say?”
“I said… “ He fought for self-control. And quiet in his voice. “I said, We should lay back in Pell system, go slow… this guy’s not hauling, I’ll lay you money he’s not hauling. He’s certainly armed with more than the ordinary. Capella says… he’s some different faction of the Fleet.”
“Welcome to the real universe. Different factions of the Fleet. I’m amazed.”
“Be serious, dammit.”
“I am. Very serious. Decades of seriousness. “ Austin rocked his chair back, crossed his leg over his knee, folded his hands on his stomach. “Has it ever struck you, Christian, this fragmentation, this stupid factionalization of the Fleet that should have defended civilization,—says something about the human condition? That enemies are much more essential to our happiness than friends? That our rivals shape our ethics, and our failures define our goals? Seems so, from the business on our own deck. Screw Mazian. And Mallory. But what a miserable, stupid end it comes to.”
“It’s one damn ship out there! Quit talking about endings and give me some of that experience you claim to have.”
“Scared, Mr. Bowe?”
“Screw you!”
“If you can’t mate with it, eat it, or wear it, it’s no good? I thought that was your philosophy. Maybe it can do something about the ship back there.”
“Cut it out! You’ve made your point. Let’s talk about that ship, let’s talk about what to do—”
“Shoot at it, maybe? Or stall us insystem? I think that was Capella’s advice. Fine for her. But not for us.”
“You’re running scared! You’re more scared of Marie Hawkins than—”
“Than that spotter? No.”
“Then, damn you, quit joking. I don’t know when you’re listening.”
“You could ask.”
“I could take it for granted, if you weren’t such a bastard.”
“Never take anyone’s listening for granted. Children teach you that. Any other divine revelations? Human insights? Moderately wise notions?”
Christian set his hands on the chair arms, to get up. “That I’ve got things to do. I’ve had it. I’m through. I’m not listening, after this.”
“Oh, give me some news. This isn’t it.”