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Jose took a deep breath. “Sir, you are not paying attention to things. Small things, I mean. I know that you have many important things to keep track of, sir, but you are missing some of the smaller things, like this food issue. The details. There is too much going on.”

  “There are a lot of things that are going on right now, Jose. Important events.”

  “I agree, sir. But these other decisions need to be made. And you haven’t been making them. Somebody needs to.”

  Dashi usually smiled. Dashi never got upset. He just smiled different smiles. But for the first time ever, Dashi was frowning. This was an expression Jose had never seen on his boss’s face. It made Dashi look dangerous.

  “To summarize, Jose, you think I am missing things. That I am not doing my job properly. Are you trying to do my job for me, Jose?”

  “Sir, I—” Jose swallowed. “Yes, sir, I am. Part of it.”

  Dashi nodded. The smile came back. “Good. Carry on, you can take care of those details from now on.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I— wait what?”

  Dashi grinned. “Don’t apologize. That’s your job now. If you see something I’ve missed, fix it. So, we’re in good shape for now.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Provided our ongoing shipments continue to arrive.”

  “Yes sir. I’ve cleared warehouse space for the containers coming in. I’m aiming for six months of supplies.”

  “Sounds like you have the current situation under control.”

  Jose was silent. Mr. Dashi looked out the windows. Small valleys and rivers flashed by the monorail. At one point, they passed over a large hydro dam that impounded a river. Snow-covered mountains ranged to the north, open sea to the south. The land curved and the track turned southwards. They spun around a final headland as they reached the valley containing Point 37. The setting planet burst out in front of them, framed on the horizon between two valley walls. The estuary had widened, and a series of fishing boats could be seen bobbing up and down on the water. A very long lake fell ten meters over a rock ledge to splash into the ocean below. The ocean swell flooded up and down against the rocks. Buildings were visible at the up-valley end of the lake.

  “Where do the boats dock?” Jose asked. “How do they get into the harbor?”

  “The tide range is about thirty meters here. The sea rises up until it floods over that waterfall. Then the boats have about a half hour to get up into the river on the flood tide, into that giant lake. They dock at the processing plant at the end. They stay tied up for a tidal cycle then race out on the next falling tide. They can only get in and out during those times.”

  “That sounds difficult,” Jose said.

  “It is. The boats aren’t corporate. They are personally owned, and the crews are usually family.”

  “Rough life.”

  “Yes. But they make good money on the wild fish. Some people think it’s tastier than the farm-grown ones.”

  “Do you like it, sir?”

  Dashi shrugged. He didn’t like any type of fish. “It’s certainly tastier than algae.” He stood up. “Jose, switch seats with me, please.”

  “Sir.” Jose got up. Mr. Dashi had barely noticed the scenery before. Jose had enjoyed the window seat the entire trip. Why did he want to change now?

  “Do you have a geo-compass on your comm, Jose?”

  “Yes sir, that is, if I have satellite service at this time of day.”

  “One of them is overhead right now. Start a track, please, and log it. As much precision as you can.” Mr. Dashi pointed his comm out the window across the valley and watched it closely.

  Jose did as directed. For the next few kilometers, they traveled due west, with no deviation at all, as far as the precision on Jose’s comm could tell. Jose found himself being pushed back into his seat as the maglev accelerated on the long straight stretch.

  “Due west, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re lucky that we have satellite coverage here today.” Delta’s satellite constellation was incomplete, reliably covering only the main city of Landing. Satellites were expensive, and the founding corporations hadn’t seen the need for a mining colony to have a full set. Outside Landing, it was catch-as-catch-can. Ground-based repeaters provided public communication services for the monorail and attached settlements. Corporations could use private networks based on their orbital infrastructure, but they weren’t optimal, and they didn’t share.

  Dashi smiled. “Do you think so, Jose?”

  Jose smiled back. “You timed our trip for when there was satellite coverage, didn’t you, sir?

  Dashi didn’t answer. He smiled some more instead. “This lake is never less than two kilometers wide. Good.” The monorail began to slow down.

  “Sir, what do you want me to do when we get to Point 37?”

  “See to our accommodations. Accompany me to the meetings. Ask questions of everybody about everything, and take note of the answers. Stay away from the senior people—hang out with the younger folks. Play the rube from the big city. I will be the senior executive with gravitas, and you will be the eager young assistant.”

  Dashi stood up and began to re-tie his neck scarf. He wore a tailored business suit over a custom-fitted skinsuit. The skinsuit was not strictly necessary in atmosphere, but it could serve as extra warmth when the weather got cold. His wrist ruffles were subdued, but high quality.

  “That’s a very handsome scarf, sir,” Jose said. “Those synthetics are so good. You would almost think they were real silk.”

  “Yes, one would almost think that,” Dashi said with one of his patented smiles.

  Emperor’s balls, Jose thought. It must be real. That scarf cost more than the whole outfit. A lot more.

  “Let’s meet our potential new business associates,” Dashi said, heading for the door.

  They were climbing out of the train when Jose spoke again.

  “Sir, what about the thefts?”

  Dashi had reached the grab bar to swing onto the steps. He held on with one hand and turned to Jose.

  “Ignore them,” Dashi said.

  “Sir, I don’t understand how you can be so sanguine about this.”

  “The Militia is doing this to hurt us. Either on their own behalf, or on somebody else’s. Who will gain if we lose?”

  “Everybody needs food, sir. Us, the Militia, Castle Transport, all the other corps.”

  “Yes, but not all of them need it equally. Some produce their own, like Galactic Growing. And those with ground-to-orbit traffic, like the Militia, can be fed from Downport.”

  “We don’t produce our own food, sir. Not yet, unless you buy a plant.”

  “Food is just the symptom. If it wasn’t food, it would be something else. Rare earths. Hydrogen. Oxygen. We need all of those things. Some are available in orbit, and some are not. That’s not the whole problem.” Dashi stepped down onto the platform and began to walk toward the station’s waiting room.

  “What is the whole problem, sir?”

  “Production, of course, but mostly transportation. We don’t have secure methods of moving things from ground to orbit.”

  “The Militia has a monopoly on the shuttle, sir.”

  “Yes, but they can’t operate without us. We provide them H and O in orbit, as well as a lot of metals, and quite a few of their rare earths.”

  “They can access other sources, sir.”

  “Not enough of them, Jose. Not enough of them. What’s changed that they feel they can dispense with our cooperation at this time? Why now?”

  Jose stepped into the waiting room and held the door for Dashi.

  “You think they have other supplies, sir?”

  “Absolutely. I’m not sure where, or how. The other corps can’t make up the shortfall if we stop trading with them. The food is the key. Where is it going? Once we find the where, we’ll know the why and the how. We need to find out where that food is.”

  “How do we do that, sir?”

&nb
sp; “Exhaustive checks of records. Analysis of sales patterns. Checks of payments and balances. Computerized modeling of storage location fill rates. Boring, tiring, exhausting, underappreciated drudge work.”

  Jose smiled. “I’ll contact Jake Stewart right away, sir.”

  Chapter 6

  “When will I be flying this?” Nadine said. She was a curvy blonde girl and wore a corporate office skinsuit and jacket in a muted charcoal-gray hue. If observing closely, one would note that the suit was custom-made, and the office jacket was some sort of expensive fabric—not silk, but some sort of industrial analog. The message had said to wait by herself in the bar, and she would be approached. She hadn’t expected it to be the daily Militia courier. Nor that he would be so ugly.

  “Soon. But we’ll pay for you to go up to Orbital-16 right now. We’ll pay you and put you on a regular short route out of there so that you are available when we need you. Probably a few weeks, maybe a month, then we’ll send you out,” the sweating Militia man said.

  “What’s the cargo, then?” Nadine asked.

  “None of your business. You are being paid to fly a ship. Just drop it and don’t ask questions,” the Militia officer said. He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and tried to tuck his tunic back into his pants. His gut hung out over his belt, and the top buttons on his shirt stretched. The low gravity had caused his tissues to collect fluid, and he sat like a giant piece of steaming dough.

  “Why me? You have your own pilots.”

  “We did. We do. But you have some unique skills.”

  “You did? As in you don’t have it now? What happened?

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  Nadine raised her eyebrows and looked at him. “What unique skills? You should tell me in case I forgot them.”

  “We are told you can fly a glider?”

  “An unpowered glider? Like an aircraft, not a spacecraft?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can do that.”

  The bartender arrived with a tray. He put a large plastic cup in front of the man, and a small shot glass in front of Nadine.

  The Militia officer took a drink from the cup in front of him and immediately spat it back. “What is this?”

  “It’s reconstituted basic. Vitamins, nutrients, sugar, salt, all in one easy, mixable package. We use it on ships ‘cause it lasts forever, and all you need is water. You can live on it for weeks.”

  “It tastes like rancid apple juice and motor oil had a baby.”

  “You don’t see me drinking it.”

  “Where do you get the water?”

  “Water is infinitely recyclable on a space station provided you have electricity. We just distill it out.”

  “You mean it comes from…?”

  “Yeeeuup. That’s why I drink vodka.” She popped the shot. “Now tell me about the cargo.”

  “This is a need-to-know operation, and you don’t need to know. That’s good tradecraft; you should understand that.”

  “What I understand, you posturing idiot, is that you probably came direct from Militia HQ, so anybody who wanted to follow you would have no problem.”

  “I wasn’t followed. I took precautions,” he said, looking around.

  “Don’t look around, twithead. Look at me. You are supposed to be picking me up. Stare at my boobs or something.”

  The man reddened. “Sorry. I mean, yes— I mean, sorry.” He stared at the bridge of her nose.

  Nadine stretched her arms back, accentuating her bust. “There, that’s for free. Did you have to wear your uniform?”

  “Couriers always wear their uniform. I delivered the courier box to the station manager, and I’m staying overnight till the drop shuttle tomorrow. Standard procedure. I just went out for a drink in the bar, and I met a pretty girl, and we talked and went back to her room. I’ll give you the nav chip there.”

  “Nobody will believe that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are a fat slob who is drinking crappy basic, and I’m a gorgeous blonde girl who drinks expensive vodka shots. Why wouldn’t you at least order booze?”

  The man looked down at his drink and mumbled.

  “What?”

  “I said, it’s a religious thing.”

  “Oh no,” Nadine said. “You’re not one of those, are you?”

  “I’m not ashamed. We swore a holy oath to the Emperor. We will uphold his laws until relieved. We are always on duty. We uphold the old truths.”

  “The old truths?”

  “Honor and loyalty to the Empire.”

  Nadine shook her head. “We haven’t heard from the Empire in eighty years. We need to go our own way, make up our own laws. And what does that have to do with no alcohol?”

  “We have the imperial edicts from my grandfather’s time. That’s enough for any imperial officer. And we can’t drink on duty. We are always on duty.”

  “You grandfather was not an imperial officer. At least not here. There was no base here. He was some sort of logistics person who bought processed algae for the fleet.”

  “He was not.” His grandfather had actually been a baker in the cafeteria of the purchasing department. He still had the recipes. “The Emperor will return. There is no need to change anything.”

  “Just keep going this way till we all starve? Doesn’t matter. The Militia won’t be in charge for long—half of your ships don’t work. Does your room have a shower?”

  “That’s a lie, Our ships are fine.”

  “You’re right—it is a lie. Do you have the chip with you?” Nadine asked. She turned toward the bar, lifted her hands to call the bartender’s attention, and then gestured with her hands. The bartender nodded and began to fill a pitcher of beer. “I think the number is more like three quarters, but I don’t care. The nav. chip? You have it?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s clipped to my breast pocket.” Nadine looked down—and there was indeed a nav. chip case clipped to his pocket. He continued, “We’ll finish here, and then we’ll go to your room together. Once we are alone I’ll give the navigation chip to you, I’ll stay for two hours and leave. Nobody will suspect anything. There will be no risk.”

  “Everybody in this bar will suspect I’ve lowered my standards and lost my mind. I’m not prepared to risk that. You never said if your room had a shower.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Outstanding.” The bartender arrived and dropped a full pitcher of beer. “Jeem, this military gentleman will be paying before he leaves,” Nadine said. The bartender nodded and walked away.

  She scooted around the table to her left and leaned in toward her contact. “There is one thing that would make your plan more believable.”

  “What’s that?” he said, leaning in.

  “Two hours is too long,” she said. Nadine pulled him close with her left hand and held him tightly. Very deliberately, she used her right hand to pour the entire pitcher of beer over his head and uniform. As he sputtered, she released his shirt and carefully palmed the nav. chip. “You are more of a two-minute type of guy,” she said, stepping back.

  “Bitch. When the empire is restored, I’ll come looking for you.”

  “Really? Well, in that case, remember this,” she leaned back toward him, “screw your empire. You can be first against the wall when the revolution comes.”

  She strode out as the bar clapped for her.

  Nadine arrived back at her rented room. She closed and locked the door, and began to read the information on the nav. chip. As she read it, she frowned several times. She finished reading it and stared into space for about a minute. Then she shook her head and grabbed her comm. After a few tries, she connected to the station system. It took quite some time before her encrypted channel opened up and the far side answered.

  “What?”

  “The Militia want me to hire me. What were you thinking, giving them my name? I hate the Militia.”

  “When? Where? Do you know what time it is?”

  “In two we
eks. A ship I’ll meet at transfer 7. Why were you asleep? It’s mid-afternoon in Landing.”

  “I’m not in Landing, I’m supervising something elsewhere. It’s the middle of the night here. Where are you?”

  “Orbital 3.”

  “What are you doing there? I told you to stay in landing.”

  Nadine rolled her eyes, even though the expression was useless since the voice couldn’t see her.

  “I was bored. I talked some friends into bringing me up on the shuttle.”

  “You bought a ticket. They track that.”

  “Nope. Flew in the cargo hold.”

  “The cargo hold? That’s dangerous. You could be killed.”

  “Bite me,” Nadine said. “It’s pressurized. I’m not one of your idiot subordinates that you dictate things to.”

  The voice laughed over the radio. “I should have known. That’s your mother talking there. But I’m concerned about your safety. You should listen to my advice.”

  “My mother took your advice, and it killed her and Dad. I’m not going to make that mistake. I don’t want your advice.”

  There was a long pause. “They were too hasty. That’s what got them killed.”

  “They didn’t—wait.” Nadine put both palms to her forehead and rubbed her eyes. She shook her head once. “Let’s not talk about my parents. Why did you give the Militia my name? You know I never want to work for them.”

  “I didn’t give them your name. They must have gotten it some other way.”

  “Oh.”

  “They and I don’t exactly get along either, you realize. If I was stuck in an airlock without a suit during evac testing, well, too bad. Tests are important, right? Why would they ask me for help with anything, especially something as obviously unofficial as this?”

  “Don’t get along is an understatement. That’s why I called. I wanted to know what you were thinking.”

  “Well, for that matter, you saying you don’t like them is also a considerable understatement. And they know it. How were you contacted? Who was it?”

  “It was one of those Empire Rising guys. Salute the Emperor, braid his hair, all that stuff.”

  “They are a joke. What do they want you to do?”