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TWO

Genchi wasn’t Elthoria, a fact that resonated with Jethri as he used the screen in the ship’s compact conference room. While Genchi, despite being built to Liaden preferences, was far more commodious than Balrog, he’d been planning on using on-station facilities for meetings during the trade congress.

Bry Sen had convinced Chiv that the docksides were unlikely to be engulfed by rioters, and dispatched him to meet Brabham and Freza at the lifts from the exhibit docks and support them on their return to Balrog. Jethri thought about suggesting that they all make that detour—and then thought of Freza’s insistence that he be ready, even if he didn’t know what he was supposed to be ready for.

Jethri’s quick search of congress attendee info was aided by Bry Sen’s memory.

“I thought I recalled the name!” the pilot exclaimed, and thrust one of the crisp printed pre-congress handouts under Jethri’s nose, pointing at something halfway down the page.

Jethri took the sheet, holding it a little further away, and focused. There, listed among the TerraTrade presenters was BOORS BORYGARD, under a flat pic of a man in trim middle age, with the bountiful sideburns and artfully styled hair of someone who was not expecting to need to don a spacesuit anytime soon. His face was broad, showing lines of experience, and his expression was grave, though both eyes and mouth hinted at more willingness to smile than would have been apparent in a pic of a senior Liaden of similar importance.

Reading the short bio, Jethri wondered why such a person was free to see him. His list of titles and letters was impressive, even though Jethri needed to cross-ref half of them. Have to get familiar with those fast, Jeth, he told himself. Boors Borygard was TerraTrade STA1—that was Senior Technical Administrator—with positions and appointments trailing away after, as if that wasn’t enough, including being a trustee for a number of intertrade funds and a member of the Combine Trader Recognition Committee.

Jethri felt his pocket buzz—the Balrog comm unit, not his fractin this time—and connected to a breathless Freza.

“Jeth, I’m almost there and Bory says he’s ten or fifteen minutes out, soon’s he’s finished dealing with the port safety people that got called out anyway. Come let me in, hey?”


Jethri was pleased to have his ear kissed and nipped as the airlock closed behind them, and took advantage of the chance to hug Freza’s spare frame to him for a moment. He’d have really liked to take her down the long hall to his quarters, but duty seemed otherwise. He put his hand on her back as he reluctantly guided her to the meeting room.

They’d barely arrived when Bry Sen came to the door.

“Is there a need for refreshment?” he asked, eyes flicked to Freza and back to Jethri. “There is work tea on the brew, else—”

“Work tea?” Freza asked.

“Strong and a touch sweet,” Jethri said. “To keep the concentration going.”

“Work tea sounds terrific,” she said, and Jethri nodded at Bry Sen. “Bring a pot.”

“Trader.” Bry Sen was gone.

Turning, Jethri offered Freza another hug, which she stepped into, eagerly, he thought, breathing in her scent as her arms went around his waist and she hugged him back, hard.

“Tiring day,” he said, and she laughed softly against his shoulder. “Forgot to pace myself, is what. Think I’d learn.”

One more squeeze and she stepped back. He let her go reluctantly as Bry Sen came in with a tray bearing two mugs and a teapot—not the good set, Jethri noted. So, Bry Sen considered that Freza was a crewmate, not a visitor.

That, Jethri thought, was interesting. Even…pleasing.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up the pot and pouring.

“Always of service,” Bry Sen said. “If it can be told, do we expect visitors?”

“One,” Freza said. “Big man, dressed planet-side. Name of Boors Borygard. Might trot out an ‘executive director’ or ‘from the Commissariat’ ahead of it, if he thinks you need impressin’.”

Bry Sen nodded and looked to Jethri.

“Bring the director here when he arrives,” Jethri said, and Bry Sen nodded again, his eyes going to the tea service. Jethri saw him weighing the melant’i of a commissioner against the workaday teapot shared with comrades.

“Just bring another mug,” he said, and Bry Sen’s eyebrows went up before he nodded a third time, and took himself off.

Jethri poured himself a mug of tea, and looked to Freza.

“So—Brabham started a riot?”

Freza snorted.

“No, Brabham did not start a riot.”

Shaking her head, she sank down into one of the new seats that was one of pin’Aker’s pre-trip upgrades. She patted the leather appreciatively, and raised her mug to take a careful sip.

Jethri propped a hip against the table and sipped from his mug, feeling his breath go as the malt hit his tongue. Tea strong enough to stand up on its own feet and shout; Bry Sen wanted them to get some work done, is how he read that message.

“Now, this,” he said to Freza’s raised eyebrows, “is proper work tea.”

“I could get used,” she admitted and had another sip.

“Who started the riot if it wasn’t Brabham?” Jethri wondered, after she had settled herself deeper into the chair.

“Well, now there’s the question. Could be said it was the Golds, if there was a riot, which there wasn’t. Here’s how it happened, Jeth—

“Brabham arrived on the deck with his escorts and lucky enough right there was Bory and a bunch of folks heading toward the exhibition docks. Couldn’t miss ’em, after all, with that voice of his, but Brabham couldn’t see him ’round the crowd and him on the scoot like he was, and he asked me ‘Is that Bory? Do I hear Bory?’”

Her face fell into a grin again.

“Thing is, he heard the question, Bory did, and you’d have thought he’d found a free cantra on the floor. Let out a yip, and next thing I know there he was making me feel like a little. Brabham stood himself up and so now we had all of Brabham’s escort and all of Bory’s escort. Everything was good, I thought, until stupid Desty Gold and his first mate came into it, calling Bory inconsiderate for breaking off their talk to see Brabham, and then calling Brabham names for Balrog being pushed ahead in the docking queue, and then Desty’s mate called Brabham a ‘twenting backward anti-pilot’ and claiming Balrog was broadcasting some kind of shipping interference.”

Jethri’d been fascinated by Freza’s face and voice, less so by the words until the last hit him.

“What? Brabham? How—”

Freza laughed, and raised her mug.

“Yes, he did say it!”

“But—”

“But some of Gold’s friends were there, saw Brabham, o’course, and started complaining that the Envidaria’s an excuse for some ships to expand their Loops by taking advantage, while others’ll lose ’em since they’re too old or too big or…”

She broke off, with a look of distaste, shook her head and drank some more tea.

“Yeah,” she sighed, looking at the mug. “I could get used.”

She looked up.

“Anyhoot—it got scattered so fast, Jeth, I couldn’t fairly keep track. Then Bory, well, he raised his voice, and you know what that’s like—”

“I don’t. I’ve never met him.”

She stopped, startled, her face slowly clearing.

“I forgot, Jeth. I forgot Iza just broke off everything social when Arin died. We—I mean Balrog—we were still trying to rescue something from the old arrangements even after Arin broke away, and then when he died Iza never talked to nobody if Paitor could do it, wouldn’t even bring the Market to meets that wasn’t all about trade. But Bory, he stayed in and—”

The ship’s annunciator told them they had a visitor. Jethri came out of his lean, and stayed on his feet, mug in hand. In moments the second largest man he’d ever seen followed Bry Sen into the room. He was second largest because he massed less than Jay Dorster of Balfour did, though in height he was very nearly the equal. Dorster’s mass had been distributed rather carelessly about his person—he’d grown large as a child, too large to be comfortable aboard a Loop ship, too hungry to be fed as a crewman, and too serious to do much but study until his mother rescued herself and her son from an awkward situation by starting a business on Balfour.

This man lacked Dorster’s beard or mane, and he lacked the sense of apology for his size that Dorster’s conversation had evoked. Jethri tried to imagine him moving about in Balrog’s tight quarters and yes, it would have been a tight fit indeed. Here, his hair all but brushed the ceiling though the Liaden sense of proportion favored a ship interior far less tunnel-like than Balrog, with better lighting and—Jethri was suddenly looking at the top of the man’s head, for he was bowing with some nuance, recognizably honor to one’s Line.

Jethri returned the bow between equals, not as nuanced, but easy for even an untrained Terran to read—which, Jethri thought, Boors Borygard was. The bow had been good, but the hand position had been off, which suggested the bow had been learned in a hurry from a tape.

Straightening, Jethri glanced at Bry Sen, waiting in the doorway, and nodded. The pilot inclined slightly and stepped away into the hall, the door closing behind him.

Freza stood, standing forward to wave the man toward Jethri.

“Boors Borygard, this is Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin. Jethri, this is Bory, an old friend of our ship.”

The voice that so impressed Freza was bold, if not booming, warm amusement suffusing the tone.

“Trader ven’Deelin, let me be pleased to meet you,” he said affably. “And if I may say so, I am pleased to meet you now that you’ve gotten your height!” He moved from bow to handshake, graceful and clearly muscled. If this man had been speaking at volume to a crowd, Jethri could see why they might have listened.

“Sir, I’m pleased to meet you, but I think we’ve not met in person.”

The laugh lines around Bory’s mouth deepened.

“I’d have known who you are and felt like I knew you already, because I knew Arin, and from what I’ve seen, you’re a lot like him—and not just in looks. But I guess the reality is that the last I saw you, you were barely walking and not awake to visitors on Gobelyn’s Market. I gathered we woke you and you escaped from, was it Cris?”

Jethri laughed. “Cris wasn’t the best baby-guard at the time, as the ship remembers. I hope I wasn’t rude.”

“No, sir, not at all. Disinterested is the word that comes to mind.”

“If visitors woke me, disinterested’s probably what it was. I’m told I really liked to sleep in those days! Please, be welcome, and seated. We have some working tea here, if you’d care to join us. Else I can offer—”

“I’ll share a mug of tea as it’s here. No reason to put the ship to extra trouble.”

Jethri nodded, moved around the table and poured. Bory received the mug, took a good swallow, and sighed.

“Just the thing,” he pronounced.

Jethri raised the pot toward Freza, who held out her mug for a refill, then topped off his own. Bory looked around and settled himself into a chair that was almost wide enough for him. Freza resumed her seat, and Jethri spun a third chair so he was facing both of them, and sat down.

Bory had another drink from his mug and put it on the chair’s wide arm.

“Sorry I didn’t see Brabham’s situation coming up,” he said to Freza. “I should have, the Golds and their ilk being what they are. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again, which means I’m going to have some extra security out there, to keep things calm. I’m guessing you’re both good with that plan.”

Freza nodded, and after a moment so did Jethri.

“Good, good.” Another smile, which faded somewhat as he looked between them.

“I gotta say that I wish you might’ve let us know about your announcement before you made it public. We didn’t get mentioned; it was all about Arin’s work, and nothing from us at all. Looks like we didn’t recognize it might be important!”

He paused, and shook his head sadly.

“Combine and TerraTrade both kind of took a hit is what I’m telling you. Image Management’s all over me for not telling them ahead—I’m the liaison, right? Supposed to know these things. And you ought to know that budgets are in more-or-less chaos for us having to answer queries and the data’s not in our files. I’ve got to hand it to you, though—hardly anybody was doing more than whispering about the Dust problem before you come on the scene with all that energy. Wouldn’t have thought there was that much hold-over from Arin, but there it was… And we could have used some warning, a chance to work together—” He waved a hand. “That’s all a Jump behind us, all right? Like I told Freza, we ought to be able to make this whole business run smoother, going forward. Cooperation, that’s key.”

The rest of his smile faded from his face and he glanced at the closed door.

“We’ll want to have a quiet talk, if we can, Trader. Freza, you, me. Here. Now is a great time, so we can get on with things. Let’s call it Combine to Jethri Gobelyn, or Envidaria to Combine, whatever.”

His pause was too brief to allow comment and he moved his hand in a vague launch this now sign.

“Can’t go too wide on it though, if you understand? I was hoping we could have Brabham in it, but with all this thing about interference and leaks going on, I think us three can probably make a good start here and then we can do some more formal things once the congress gets a bunch of stuff out of the way.”

Jethri felt his own smile ghosting away, his Liaden trade face falling into place as Freza shifted in her chair.

“If we need to talk, sure, we can talk right now,” Jethri said. “Brabham can be involved, if you want him.” He turned to Freza. “He’s available on comm?”

“No trouble,” Freza said, but Bory was shaking his head.

“No, you know what? Just us three, right here, sharing space, sharing air.” He lifted his mug with a smile. “Sharing refreshment.”

That was a call-out to Looper hospitality between ships, but Jethri had some doubt about whether he’d be calling Bory “cousin” anytime soon, if ever.

“Our schedule must be as crowded as yours,” he said politely. “Now’s good for me—Freza?”

“I’m here to learn,” she assured him.

He considered her briefly. She smiled, eyes wide, and he turned back to Bory.

“Sounds to me like now’s the time. Before we start, let us be clear—my recent training would have me say that we need to be certain of relative melant’i. If we speak as other than Loopers of long acquaintance, should we not be sure which of the masks we’re wearing is feeding the oxygen to the conversation?”

A half-snort from Bory, a semi-shake of the head.

“True enough. I’ll take the word of Freza and Brabham that you aren’t here for the Liaden side of things. Got to admit this isn’t a bad little ship you got—and lead trader, too, young as you are! Can’t blame you for taking advantage where there’s advantage to be took. What I need to know is, who’s in charge, right here, right now? Do you really think just telling people a simple set of rules is going to be enough to change the patterns people’re used to?”

Jethri looked to Freza; she half-closed her eyes and sighed before emulating Bory’s earlier launch this now, raising her left hand in punctuation to indicate she was taking first turn to speak.

“Jethri made the decision to release the Envidaria because he was the one who could make the decision. All the circumstances, and Arin, too, pushed him that way, and he acted as soon as he had all the details.

“Decision’s made—like you said, that’s behind us. Right now, we got teams of people working on protocols, teams working on alternate routes, teams trying to pull science ships together so we can do better measuring than’s been going on—”

“But who’s in charge?” Bory demanded. “Day to day?”

Jethri frowned. Freza nodded to him, and continued.

“We’re working on that, Bory. Still working. There’s not one single person making all the decisions, except when one needs to be made right now. Even then, it’s passed around and worked over, amended if it needs to be. Once this congress is over we’ll have clearer lines of communication.”

Bory took a deep breath and shook his head, gesturing with both hands to emphasize his words.

“Here’s the thing. Arin tried to talk to me about the Dust situation back when I wasn’t much more than an intern with the Combine, and he brought it up from time to time while I was working my way up. He mentioned issues at a planet he knew about and he and his pilot—Greg, maybe his name was. They both explained to me about the Dust density and stuff, but no one was having real problems, so I didn’t put it in the top queue when I got more involved, more invested, in the Combine.

“I wasn’t happy back when Arin and his couple of friends decided that my board of trustees was off-base with the changes we were making. But the changes needed to be made, and commissioners who couldn’t go along with it, they made things harder on us. Some of them left, some just stayed to make things harder. Sometimes decisions need to be made by a small group, or one person, who has all the information. Right now, are you telling me that this whole Envidaria scheme is a ship without a pilot? Jethri’s not in charge?”

Bory looked hard at Jethri, but again Freza spoke first—

“Jethri’s consulted on a lot—he has to be. But day to day, immediate action—that’s coming off Balrog—call it me and Brabham with advice of the people and groups who pass it on. The framework’s being built as we sit here; it’ll be bigger next shift and bigger the shift after that. I can’t be clearer: On desperate decisions Brabham and me have a consult with the best person we can get to make it three, and Jethri gets in when there’s time.”

“Right, so you have twenty ships or thirty in and you’re disrupting trade around the whole arm? Somebody needs to make this orderly, somebody needs to…”

“We’ve got close to a hundred in, official, and a bunch more coming in because they feed those ships or get fed by them. Some only need the information we’ve got on Dust conditions. Some want to change Loops, some want to sell, but we’re way more than just three dozen ships and if someone’s using that number they’re off course!” Freza said sharply.

Jethri cleared his throat, the other two turned as if they’d forgotten he was there.

“We missed a portion of the agreement. I’ll confess that I’m consulted on decisions being made elsewhere—there’s not a ‘home office’ and I’m of mixed mind should there be—but we said we’d be clear who we’re talking for.

I’m talking for the Looper traders who identify with the Envidaria, the Loopers who need it, and the worlds those ships serve. Things need to happen to make sure commerce goes forth. Freza is my link, through Brabham and the Envidaria, to the Seventeen Worlds. Those are the worlds most affected by the Dust right now, where people need to have something like the Envidaria in force. In the last—call it the last quarter Standard—I’ve predicted route changes, discussed pod sizing, agreed and disagreed with plans for route-swapping and intershipping—and I’ve done it with good advice and the intent to let trade go forth.”

He moved a hand.

“Freza and Brabham, they’re in the same orbit as me, far as I can tell. They’ve lived Loop ships, they know traders, and they know what it is like to have a Jump barely go through or to have to start again and do it all over. So they’re working for Loopers too; Loopers here in this arm, Loopers who’ve joined the Envidaria because they can live with it better than they can live without it.”

Jethri paused. Bory’s face was closed; Freza was half-smiling. She gave him a nod, and he did not sigh as he continued.

“What I wonder,” he said, leaning in and looking straight into Bory’s face, “is what mask are you wearing? Is your oxy free ship air or ’pressed in a suit pack?”

Bory sat up straighter—an impressive sight—and his face might have reddened slightly.

“I’m here for the Combine and through it for TerraTrade. That means all trade and all planets. We make trade happen. We make sure there’s money for the exchanges, that the pinbeams get paid for, that…”

Jethri nodded, considered, heard Freza’s intake of breath that meant she might speak again, held up his hand and signed a firm launch now.

“Let me rephrase,” he said to Bory. “I’ve been called the ambassador for the Envidaria. Brabham and Freza, they’re representing The Seventeen Worlds in this, as well as the Loopers. Traders, pilots, Loopers, a subset of planets with a special problem. We’re at the congress to solve a big problem that’s not been addressed, so far as any of us can see, by the Combine or by TerraTrade.

“You’ve been around Loopers if you were on the Market, if Arin thought enough of you to bring you on-board. But the reason I’m an ambassador is that this problem’s been building, and TerraTrade and the Combine are so busy predicting the next big thing in galactic trade they’re ignoring the fact that this small splinter of the galaxy is in trouble. Maybe a dozen and a half worlds in real trouble and another three dozen with lots of bother isn’t big enough to catch the Combine’s eye right now? Is that what I’m hearing? But this is just the start and we don’t know if it’ll get so bad some place that nothing can get in or out.

“And so, are you a Looper? When you breathe out, where does that air go?”

Bory sat back slowly.

“I see. Trying to be purer than the Combine is no way to work things out, Trader. You’re young, so maybe you don’t see that the net of wider trade is where things have to happen, and that warning ships away so that Loopers can run things in this arm is against the interest of wider trade—Loops are out of date, Loop ships and family ships need to be phased out so trade smooths out, and the flow of funds and goods gets steadier. Backswirls happen in any galaxy; the big framework works around the transient issues—has to. Arin had issues with that reality. He’d been good to me when I started working for the Combine fresh from The Monash, kept in touch when my work took me back to study at Otago, so it was hard when he broke with us. It was hard, and I regret it even now, sitting here talking with you and Freza.”

He shook his head, slow and sad.

“Look, I wasn’t born on a ship like you were—like Freza was. But I do want to make trade work. And what I think is that most of the ships out here talking to you, they’d be better off changing approach. Stick to a short run between two systems, back and forth on contract. Easier schedules, easier to get regular contract work from a coop or a network. Families can put down roots on a planet instead of being hauled from place to place. If a planet’s got too much Dust, let the consolidated groups figure it out—or sell the Loop and let the consolidators get things together. Decisions like these are best left to the people with the resources and the expertise, not by individual pilots risking their whole families!”

“Is this why you needed to talk to Jethri yourself? To tell him all the stuff that’s in your pass-arounds and mail? I thought you were going to try to work with us.”

The color was up in Freza’s face, and her lips were pale, which Jethri took as signs that she was none too pleased with the man at the moment.

Bory grimaced.

“Look, you can’t just run something like this with nobody in charge. That’s part of what I wanted to work out with you—I wanted your people to talk to my people.

“You ought to have working people and committees that you can send to make things happen. I’ve spent my education learning how this side of the business works and I’ve learned from the people who’ve been running things at the top for the last four or five decades. Come to Trantor or to Altair Four, set up on our campus, and we’ll see what we can do. There’s room for dozens of people, hundred, thousands if you need ’em! We can set a schedule—say a series of study meetings over the next five Standards, with some science brought in from the ships so we can start studying it—then we can build a project that can start to be effective. But you shouldn’t be rushing into this, and you ought to be aware that we’re going to be resisting big changes all at once. There ought to be solutions to a lot of your concerns…”

Jethri looked between them for a moment, rubbing his ear lobe while he thought.

“So,” he said eventually, “you’ve got a campus, or maybe two, where you want us to send staff from working ships to meet with folks who already make their living off of them, people who are professional administrators. You want our people on planets, and that’ll be hard on them, and you want them not to be making changes, which will be hard on them, and you want them to give you years away from what they do so that your people, who I guess live on the planets already, can make decisions that’ll make life even harder for them? Is that what I hear? We have to have better than that: you’ve already got people in place across all the sectors; why can’t they meet with the local and regional Looper teams?”

“We need consistency,” Bory said, sounding stern. “Operating rules ought to be orderly; they need to be consistent.”

“You may be glad,” Jethri said wryly, “that Brabham’s not here. There are local rules at most ports and for most systems. Have a small red sun with three interior gas giants and one stony and you’re going to have different rules than a nine planet system with four interior stones. A system with a brown dwarf half-a-light-year out’s got a lot of specials depending on local gravity anomalies—”

Jethri sat back, realizing he’d been leaning into the discussion a little too much, especially for someone with Liaden trade credentials.

“Do you have trade experience?” he asked Bory. “Have you bought and sold for a session, ever? Are you accredited anywhere as a trader?”

“I haven’t—we don’t want anybody to be concerned about conflict of interest. From our side. Kind of hard for your side on that point, I think, since everyone does everything. But for me—I’ve shadowed traders on port to watch the process, I’ve got the course work down…”

Jethri gave a half-nod. “Have you been in a trade ship running in on a busy port trying to get ahead by selling on the open trade net where the offers are computer matched and then you’ve got to overrule or make side trade at the same time you’re trying to catch the whole market’s mood?”

“I haven’t,” Bory admitted, “not on a ship. I’ve been on the trade floors on several worlds though, I know the pace and the necessities that way…”

“Have you been on the bridge for arrival and departure? Sat in the third seat or watched…”

“Sims, of course. When I travel for the Combine I’m usually pretty busy and…”

Jethri nodded and glanced to Freza, who took up his point seamlessly.

“I think what Jethri’s getting at is that a lot of what Loopers do shakes down to split-second timing and intuition no matter that they might be on the same run their parents started forty Standards ago. The ports evolve, the trade evolves, and the locals often have special knowledge that’s not gonna be covered in rules that work in ports one arm over, or even ports that run seasonal. If you pull four of the big station traders off of Balrog’s usual Loops to come to your campus, you upset standing arrangements, traditional buys, even trade forecasts. You’ll need to be willing to work with small groups and let decisions come from inside, or the system’s gonna favor conglomerates, cartels, and in the long run the people with the most big ships. Does TerraTrade really want to turn into an organization that basically feeds profits to Liad’s big ships?”

“It isn’t that simple, Freza. You’ve studied enough economics to know that—and the stuff I’ve studied does show how to keep the value flowing through trade ports, gives ships the ability to make those decisions with what we like to think of as cash-on-hand but which we all know is credit accounts and letters of account, dual transfer permissions, planetary and port tranche allowances…”

“I think,” Jethri said, “we all will need to work together, and soon. We—the Seventeen Worlds, the Envidaria team—we need more information than what’s usually been passed on from arrivals and departures; we need data all the way to mass and energy levels, we need to be told when there are Jump rejections, when there are Jump deflections, and where. TerraTrade holds that data as proprietary, but it can be life-saving, and the lives saved will be Loopers in the short run and maybe planetaries in the long. If the ships can’t get in, some places are gonna be on short rations.”

“But there’s no sign that things will get that bad,” Bory protested. “Sure, the Dust might inconvenience some shippers and a few traders. But there’s no need to disrupt—”

“You told us that my father tried to talk to you about this years ago,” Jethri interrupted, “and nothing got done because it wasn’t bad enough, and maybe would never get bad enough.” Jethri shook his head.

“Right now, we’ve got three aligned nonmember worlds that we evaluate as under extreme risk. There are several stations in worse states—places that get one or two shipments a Standard—one failure to deliver and they’re on short rations for months if they’re lucky, and worse if they aren’t. I don’t understand why—”

“But all they have to do is sign contracts with a reputable Combine-recognized hauler and they can get guaranteed service. We’re seeing to the flow of funding throughout the arm here and a lot of other places. They can get guarantees if they have contracts, that’s what they need!”

Jethri stared at him. “Guarantees,” he said flatly, and shook his head.

“A contract’s not enough, though it ought to be. A guarantee’s not enough. What they need is clarity and surety. Signing a contract with a company that sees them as occasional side business doesn’t give them much security, but keeping on good terms with Loopers who need them as much as they need the Loopers—that does make sense—and more sense as the Dust gets denser.”

Bory crossed, then uncrossed his arms, looked to Freza.

“You go along with this? Really, Freza? Do you think Brabham does?”

She nodded.

“I agree with Jethri and Arin. Shouldn’t be any surprise to you to hear that Brabham thinks this is the exact wrong time to be pushing for concentration of services—he’s said it to you often enough. The Dust is gonna disrupt services—already has, which is what Jethri told you. Brabham’s got a database of coincidental shipping outages and delays, like the time he was filling in for a cousin out toward…jeez…InAJam. Place throws solar storms that bounce off a couple of gassers and then they storm too—not a good place to work in a space suit if you have to and you have to be ready to do that anyplace you go. Couple of the incoming ships didn’t hang around…and right there you’ve got that disaster sitting on a low orbit waiting to spiral in. Brabham’s ship was able to get in a quick rescue run on something—I forget what—but the ships that didn’t make it in just pointed to local conditions and cross-shipped a quarter Standard later. Don’t even have to be Liaden to have a getaway like that in a contract…”

Freza’d been watching; Jethri saw her catch Bory’s quick glance at him. Before he could figure it, she moved her hand, signing maintain course.

“I haven’t heard the InAJam story,” Jethri said. “I’ve heard others like it, though—and there’s our point again. Before the Dust twisted toward the Seventeen Worlds, there was always something specialized happening somewhere, and there always will be. The scope of the Dust makes it different, and the Envidaria is special-made to address the problems that are coming for the Seventeen Worlds. The Dust moves, though—you know that—so it’s likely going to visit problems to more and other locations, for a long time. Makes sense to make the Envidaria into the operating rules.”

Bory sighed, loud, like he was a miscreant admitting defeat in a melant’i play. In this case, he accompanied it with a shake of the head and raised palms.

“Look, these sessions are all planned years ahead—there are sessions for the next congress that’ll be locked in place before this one’s half over. So what you’re asking for is a special interruption to a side session unless you think there’s enough interest to bring it to the committee of the whole, and that will take an official Beg of Attention.”

Freza had her tablet out.

“Beg of Attention,” she read. “Says here one happens ’bout every third congress. We got interest enough to do it now, if just to get it settled.”

“If you’re certain you want to put it up—but if it fails to go through, it’ll be locked out of the rest of this congress. You get one chance.”

Freza nodded, and said almost as if to herself…

“If we want to do it, we have to have the question perfect before we even broach it?”

She looked at Jethri first, then at Bory.

“Who can look at this ahead of time to let us at least get it heard—can you? Is there a person who has this as a job, to make sure the questions are right before they’re put up to the body?”

“There’s people, yes, people with experience. I wouldn’t say job. If you’ve got the history there on your tablet, you’re halfway there without any of the others.”

He looked hard at both of them then, and Jethri got the impression he wasn’t a happy man.

“Look, I can put you in touch with someone—maybe a couple. It might make sense for us to get this out of the way, so I can do that. I’d suggest two people, working independent, with the same information and your goals clear. I mean crystal clear. Then get them together and have them do a reconciliation of what they say—to make it clear and to be sure it is what you want to say. But beyond having that in hand when you make the request, you’re going to have to have someone give the presentation. And understand there will be questions, and it might go on a long time. It might get loud and angry.”

He paused, nibbled on his lip.

“Ten Standards ago, or even five, I’d have told you that Brabham was your man—everybody knows him. Seems like he’s respected by everybody who ever dealt with him, and Loopers—well, you saw what happened with the youngers today—he’s a legend. The thing is he can’t do the follow-up if he’s already tired, and we saw that he is.”

He looked then straight at Jethri, but turned and nodded to Freza.

“See, what’s happened, you got the booster in front of the jets, and I’ll tell you I thought that would make my job easier here. But it’s clear you’re not going to let me just tuck you into an informational session like I’d been aiming for, so we might as well get you turned around.”

He paused then, shaking his head, looking again at Freza.

“You put Jethri here in front of folks while you and Brabham were holding the show together. I guess you’re going to have to keep on with that. Make sure he’s in touch with what you’re doing, him being out front, but since I gather that Jethri’s face is scheduled to be everywhere for the next few days, that’s a start—like I say, I’m not sure that announcement was your best course.”

Freza looked at Jethri, barely avoiding a smile.

“We made the announcement—Jethri did. We needed to start and we were behind because everyone wanted secrets. We’re not secret now—and since we’re not, you’re right, we have to get in front of it. So let the Envidaria grow, that’s what we think ought to happen. Get us in front of the congress. Put Jethri where people will see him. Let him sell this. What do you think, Jeth?”

He swallowed—he had never personally been in front of more than a few dozen people at a time, no matter that his message was an expanding wave front at dozens, maybe even hundreds of planets and stations.

“If they need to see me, I’ll talk to them. I’ll work from what I know, that’s what I can do; I’ll work from the proposal. I’ll tell them what we’re building, and who’s been keeping me straight.”

Freza looked to the Combine official.

“Bory, if you have suggestions for folks to help with that wording, let me know who they are. I’ll either tell ’em you volunteered ’em or not, as you like.”

Bory bowed his head with a brief laugh.

“If you don’t know the names already, I guess you can mention mine. But here, let me send that on to you.”

He reached for his comm.


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