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"Josh," Damon said, looking to the side and behind him, where Josh stood with other Union troops, at last inconspicuous among others likewise perfect. "How do you feel about it?"
Josh's eyes slid past him, perhaps to Azov, returned to a forward stare. He said nothing.
"Take your troops and your ships," Damon said to Azov. "If Josh stays, that's his choice. Take Union presence off this station. You'll be received for docking hereafter by request and by permission of the stationmaster's office; it will be granted. But if time is of value to you, I'd suggest you take that offer and agree to it."
Azov scowled. He signaled his troop officer, who ordered the units to form up. They walked away, headed for the upcurving horizon, for blue dock, where Unity was berthed.
And Josh was still standing there, alone. Elene got up and hugged him awkwardly and Damon clapped him on the shoulder. "Stay put here," he said to Elene. "I've got a Union ship to get undocked. Josh, come on."
"Neiharts," Elene said to those nearest her. "See that they reach central in good order."
They went behind the Union forces; took the niner corridor as the Unioners headed for their ship, started to run. In the corridors there were doors open, the folk of Pell standing there to observe. Some began to shout, to wave, cheers for this last, merchanters' occupation. "They're ours, " someone yelled. "They're ours! "
They took the emergency ramp, came upward at a run; Downers met them in it, scampered along, bounced and bounded and chattered welcomes.
The whole spiral echoed with Downer shrieks and squeals and human yells from the corridors outside as the word spread from level to level. A few Unioners passed on the way down, headed out at instructions over helmet com, likely feeling very conspicuous where they were.
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They came out in blue one. Downers were back in occupation of central, and grinned welcome at them through the wide-open doors.
"You friends," Bluetooth said. "You friends, all?"
"It's all right," Damon assured him, and worked his way past a crowd of anxious brown bodies to settle himself at the main board. He looked back, at Josh, at the merchanters. "Anyone here who knows this kind of comp?"
Josh settled into place by him. One of the Neiharts took com, another one settled into another comp post. Damon keyed through to com. "Norway,"
he said, "you've got first release. I trust you'll ease out without provocations. We don't need complications."
"Thank you, Pell," Mallory's dry voice came back. "I like your priorities."
"Hurry it down there. Have your own troops undock you. You can come in again when we're stable and pick them up. Agreed? They'll be safe."
"Pell station," another voice cut in: Azov's. "Agree-ments specified no welcome for Mazianni. This one is ours."
Damon smiled. "No, captain Azov. This ship is ours. We're a world and a station, a sovereign community, and apart from the merchanters who are not residents here, we maintain a militia. Norway constitutes the fleet of Downbelow. I'll thank you to respect our neutrality."
"Konstantin," Mallory's voice warned him, on the edge of anger.
"Undock and stand off, captain Mallory. You'll stay put until the Union fleet has vacated our space. You're in our traffic pattern and you take our orders."
"Orders received," she answered finally. "Stand by. We're going to pull back and deploy riders. Unity, see that you lay a straight course out of here. And give my regards to Mazian."
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"Your own merchanters," Azov said, "are going to be the ones to suffer from this decision, Pell station. You're harboring a vessel that has to prey on shipping to live. Merchanter ships."
"Get your tail out of here, Union," Mallory shot back. "Trust at least that Mazian can't double back on you. He won't dock at Pell while I'm in the area. Go attend your own business."
"Quiet," Damon said. "Captain, move out."
There was a flurry of lights. Norway was loose.
iii
Pell System
"You too?" Blass asked wryly.
Vittorio adjusted his hold on his meager sackful of belongings, awkwardly hand-over-handed his way in the narrow access, null G, in line with the rest of the crew which had held Hammer. It was cold down here, and dimly lit. There was a vibration, the action of a shuttle tube grappling to their lock. "Don't see that I have much choice," he said. "I'm not staying to talk to the merchanters, Sir."
Blass gave a twisted smile, addressed himself to the lock, which opened to take them out a narrow tube and into the waiting warship. The dark gaped for them.
* * *
Unity moved, a steady acceleration. Ayres sat in the cushioned comfort of the Unity's top-level main room, carpeted, severely modern, with Jacoby beside him. Screens apprised them of their course, a whole array of screens showing numbers and images. They made it clear through an avenue opened by merchanter vessels, a narrow tunnel through the surrounding horde, and finally Azov spared time to look in on them by vid link, occupying one of the screens. "All right?" Azov asked of them.
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"Going home," Ayres said softly, self-satisfied. "I'll propose something to you, captain; that at this moment Sol and Union have more in common than not. That while you're sending that inevitable courier back to Cyteen, you include a proposal from my side: cooperation for the duration."
"Your side has no interest in the Beyond," Azov said.
"Captain, I suggest to you that that interest may be on the verge of awakening. And that it would be far from Union's advantage ... for Union to be less forward in offering Earth its protection— than the merchanter's alliance is going to be. After all, the alliance has already sent Earth its messenger. So Sol can pick and choose, can't it? The merchanters'
alliance. Union. Or— Mazian. I suggest a discussion of the matter. A renegotiation. It seems that neither of us has the authority to cede Pell.
And I hope that I can give my government favorable recommendations toward yours."
Elene came, with a great crowd of merchanters, stood in the doorway of battle-scarred central, while Downers scampered aside in mild alarm. But Bluetooth and Satin knew her, and danced and touched her for joy. Damon rose from his place, took her hand, gave her a place to sit near him and Josh. "I don't feel much like long climbs," she said, breathing hard. "We've got to get the lift system working." He found time simply to look at her.
Looked back to the screen by his own console, at a face lying sideways on white sheets, at tranquility and dark, lively eyes. Alicia Lukas smiled, the faintest of movements.
"Call just got through," he said to Elene. "Got word to and from Downbelow. A crippled probe appealing to Mallory for rescue out of main base ... and an operator somewhere removed from base— saying Emilio and Miliko are safe. Couldn't confirm it ... things are badly torn up down there. The operator's base is somewhere in the hills; but evidently everyone was under cover and all right. I need to get a ship of our own down there, and probably some medics."
"Neihart," Elene said, looking up at her companions. A big merchanter nodded. "Anything you need," he said. "We'll get it down there."
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6
i
Pell: green sector one; 1/29/53; 2200 hrs. md.; 1000 a.
It was a bizarre gathering, even for Pell, in the rearmost section of the concourse, in the area where separate, illusory screens afforded a little privacy to parties. Damon sat with Elene's hand locked firmly in his and amid the table, the red eye of a portable camera, a presence in itself, for he had wanted her to be among them tonight, as she had always been with this father and with all of them on family occasions. Emilio was by him; and Miliko; and Josh on his left, and next to Miliko and Emilio a small clutch of Downers, who obviously found chairs uncomfortable and yet delighted in the chance to try them, and t
o sample special delicacies, fruits out of season. At the far end of the table, the merchanter Neihart and Signy Mallory, the latter with an armed escort who relaxed sociably in the shadows.
About them was music, the slow dance of stars and ships across the walls.
The concourse had settled somewhat back into routine ... not quite the same, but nothing was.
"I'll be putting out again," Mallory said. "Tonight. Staying— was a courtesy."
"Where?" Neihart asked bluntly.
"Just do as I advise you, merchanter; designate your ships Alliance. You're offlimits. Besides, I've got a full load of supplies for now."
"You'll not stray far," Damon wished her. "Frankly, I don't trust that Union won't try something yet. I'd just as soon know you're in the vicinity."
She laughed humorlessly. "Take a vote on that. I don't walk Pell corridors without a guard."
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"All the same," he said. "We want you close."
"Don't ask me my course," she said. "That's my business. I've places. I've sat still long enough."
"We're going to try a run to Viking," Neihart said, "and see what kind of reception we'll get ... in about another month."
"Might be interesting," Mallory conceded.
"Luck to us all," Damon said.
ii
Pell: Blue dock; 1/30/53; 0130 hrs. md.;
1330 hrs. a.
The hour was well into alterday, the docks nearly deserted in this non-commercial zone. Josh moved quickly, with the nervousness he always had outside someone's protective escort on Pell, with the vulnerable feeling that the few strollers on the dockside might know him. Hisa saw him, stared solemn-eyed. The Pell dock crew by berth four surely recognized him, and the troops on guard there did: rifles angled toward him.
"Need to talk to Mallory," he said. The officer was a man he knew: Di Janz. Janz gave an order and one of the troopers slung his rifle into carry and motioned him ahead up the access ramp, walked behind him through the tube and into the lock, past the quick traffic of troops this way and that in the noisy corridor and suiting room. They took the lift up, into the main central corridor, where crew hastened about last-minute business. Familiar noises. Familiar smells. All of it.
She was on the bridge. He started to go in and the guard inside stopped him, but Mallory looked his way from her place near the command post and curiously signaled both guards permission.
"Damon send you?" she asked when he stood before her.
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Downbelow Station
He shook his head.
She frowned, set her hand consciously or unconsciously on the gun at her side. "So what brings you?"
"Thought you might need a comp tech. Someone who knows Unionside—inside and out."
She laughed outright. "Or a shot when I'm not looking?"
"I didn't go with Union," he said. "They'd have redone the tapes ... given me a new past. Sent me out ... maybe to Sol Station. I don't know. But to stay on Pell, right now— I can't do that. The stationers— know me. And I can't live on a station. Not comfortably."
"Nothing another mindwipe can't cure."
"I want to remember. I've got something. The only real thing. All that I value."
"So you go off and leave it?"
"For a while," he said.
"You talked to Damon about this?"
"Before coming down here. He knows. Elene does."
She leaned back against the counter, looked him up and down thoughtfully, arms folded. "Why Norway?"
He shrugged. "No station calls, are there? Except here."
"No." She smiled thinly. "Just here. Sometimes."
"Ship she go," Lily murmured, staring at the screens, and smoothed the Dreamer's hair. The ship pulled away from the Upabove, rolled, with a move quite unlike most ships which came and went, and shot away.
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"Norway," the Dreamer named her.
"Someday," said the Storyteller, who had come back full of tales from the big hall, "someday we go. Konstantins give we ships. We go, carry we Sun in we eyes, not 'fraid the dark, not we. We see many, many thing.
Bennett, he give we come here. Konstantin, they give we walk far, far, far.
Me spring come again, I want walk far, make me nest there ... I find me star and go."
The Dreamer laughed, warm laughter.
And stared out at the wide dark, where Sun walked, and smiled.
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C. J. Cherryh, Downbelow Station
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