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ONE

“Yes, Trader, I appreciate your concern. In fact that’s why I’m here—we’re trying to make sure that no one is surprised by what the Dust does. Studies and verified reports have shown that the larger ships have a harder time getting a perfect Jump arrival—or even any Jump arrival. Looks like that’s the RMS graviton thing showing up when it comes to localizing—in effect there’s a sphere of exclusion caused by the Dust’s density.

“If your Struven units can’t make the space identical, there’s no way the ship can arrive, and smaller spaces—that’s what happens when less energetic ships are seeking a locale—the smaller space and lower mass work—mass and energy equivalencies hold, of course—it means that this is not something the Seventeen Worlds are imposing on you, these are the laws of physics. If the ship can’t create local identity, it can’t arrive. The Dust makes it happen, the mass that’s intruding into the systems, not trade rules.”

The trader’s accent argued for a down-arm upbringing, and she’d been upfront about doing most of her dealing in her family’s fourteen system Loop for the last fifteen Standards, and the family running the Loop for sixty Standards. Fourteen systems, each no more than an eight-day Jump from next in the Loop, many of the goods pre-ordered for years ahead. A comfortable life that could be, but now—well, they’d upgraded the ship twelve Standards ago to the latest pods and power, and upgraded by two mounts, which might have to stay empty on half the runs if the mass index they were examining as the limit held true.

While Jethri could see a couple of potential ways of routing things that might work better for her, things that ought to be available in a routine scheduling program if she could see her way past Grandma’s ’rangements—that wasn’t what he was here for, this time. There were route upkeep workshops scheduled, and people with information to hand and to share. He needed to be able to concentrate on the whole story and not individuals if he could—what he needed were allies for the congress and Envidaria, not petitioners seeking personal relief.

This was the first day of the pre-congress, and Jethri was on the Envidaria table in the Small Exhibition Hall, directly across from the Main Exhibition Hall, where the trade fair was in full swing.

Jethri had thought the pre-pre-congress had been filled up and busy—and it had been, the difference being that then he had been learning everything he needed to know—or as near as possible—in order to do—this.

Sell the Envidaria.

It had been agreed for a long time that Jethri was the Envidaria’s best face; best voice. The original Envidaria had been his father’s work, after all, and Jethri was responsible for setting it free on the trade lanes.

That had been stressful on the nerves, and building long-distance ties with the Seventeen Worlds Initiative long-distance had been a challenge. But this—

This was exhausting in a way that mere trade wasn’t.

The pre-congress only lasted four days, and Jethri, at mid-shift on his first day, wasn’t absolutely certain he was going to survive it.

It helped that Freza was back at the table now. She’d been absent from his orbit much of the day, busy with a series of meet-ups with TerraTrade committee members just coming in. The Seventeen Worlds Initiative ran on Freza-power, of that Jethri was convinced. Brabham might know everything and everybody, but it was Freza scheduled it all, and kept three meetings from happening at the same time.

The traffic at his table had been constant since before the exhibit hall had properly opened, and he hadn’t had lunch. He’d grabbed two quick breaks, but even those had been a kind of orbital nightmare of recognition where, his face being familiar, the person reaching out to him acted like they’d known each other for years. The name tags helped, and he recognized some ship and company logos, but the sheer numbers of complete and semi-complete strangers surpassed anything he’d dealt with—including the receptions he’d attended during his first days as Master ven’Deelin’s ’prentice.

Freza leaned forward as he managed to promise a follow up to the down-arm trader, this by giving her Bry Sen’s name as a pilot who could better explain the situation to her, or to her pilot, if need be. He’d already ruthlessly given out other names, including Freza herself, and Chiv, not to mention Brabham, for similar help at the congress and soon he’d need to be reaching into the large pool of DeNobli cousins of which Chiv was only the first. Freza’d mentioned names, and now, on her suggestion, he’d begun asking the Looper arrivals for the names of their Loops and home ports…

“Did I hear you say ‘Paitor’ to the trio before your last?” Freza asked, low voiced, which pleased him very much since she’d had to bend in close and quiet, which showed off her ear and cheek as well as shared her scent.

He pilot-signed acknowledgment and she smiled, giving him time to relax a little before he explained. “First thing they did was claim fifth cousins with a removal, through Paitor, and expecting to see him—but I explained they’ll have to catch him on the adjusted Loop the Market’s on—if he don’t know by the time he sees him he’ll get a decent answer from him or Khat, and if he does know by then he’ll be all full of family about seeing me, so there’s that!”

Freza glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like you got nobody in line. How ’bout a snack or a drink?”

He nodded, resisting the urge to ask for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, both of which might be much too easy to overdo given the rush.

“How about some ’mite?” he said, remembering the stand he’d passed in the food court on his way to this room. “And some kind of a cheese crisp—I think I saw a booth. I’d love a maize button but…”

Freza nodded and straightened away from him, pointing to someone across the room, waving come here

And here came Chiv, with a warm smile especially for Freza, when he leaned in close. Maybe a little too close, Jethri thought, which was just proof about needing that ’mite and a minute to think his own thoughts.

“Trader’s choice is maize buttons and ’mite on a quick plate,” Freza told Chiv. “If Brabham’s out, ask him to trip by so Jeth can have a chance to slow down.”

Four Chiv signed, and was gone.

“Four?” Jethri said doubtfully, remembering the morning’s crowded hallways.

“He said four, it’ll be four or less,” Freza said with a grin. “Man’s a marvel at getting things done.”

“Sounds useful to have around,” Jethri said, honestly. Freza gave him a nod.

“We’re all of us useful to have around, in our different ways.”

She patted him on the shoulder, and might’ve said something else, but her comm buzzed, and she gave him a wry look before taking the call.

Jethri closed his eyes, and thought himself into one of the short-rests ter’Astin had taught him, as a student pilot. Board rest, he’d called that class of exercise, and for all they were so short—just a couple minutes, and not anything like sleep—they still produced beneficial effects.

He opened his eyes in time to witness Chiv’s return with a cup and a covered tray.

“Row bought,” he said, putting these items on the table in front of Jethri. “I’ve had their ’mite and it’s true yeast. The buttons are basic, but I got extra slide, so that’ll help.”

Jethri grinned. “Thank you, cousin. I believe you’re saving a life, here.”

“’S’wat cousins do,” Chiv answered, grin to grin. He glanced over his shoulder, but Freza was still on the comm. “Brabham says he’ll be scootin’ by in a couple minutes. Best hit that ’mite while it’s hot, if a cousin can advise.”

“Always,” Jethri told him, and took a swig from the cup.

He could feel the ’mite boosting energy even as he opened the tray, and picked up a maize button. Chiv’d been right about basic, but they were warm, and the eating of them gave him an excuse to smile and nod at people passing the table, rather than directly engaging.

He’d just finished his last sip of ’mite when Brabham arrived on a scoot, leading a swarm of young Loopers. They were fancy-dressed, excited to be “helping” the elder, though what they were in particular helping with, or how they were doing it, escaped Jethri’s eye. Still, he was pleased to see Brabham, and got up on his feet to do the full greeting.

“So you just remember there, young Taber from Lantic,” Brabham was saying as he pulled his scoot tight into the table, “this is who else you met at the South Axis Congress and Trade Fair. This right here is Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin, and you’ll be hearing about him a long time after they forget my name, you watch!”

Taber was a slender youth, skin a little darker than Liaden gold, and already taller than most, with grey eyes and a serious mien.

Lantic? Lantic?” Jethri put his finger to the side of his head like he was pushing a memory button. He grinned. “There! I think my cousin Khat flew Lantic one run.”

Taber’s mouth opened in a gasp, and they rushed forward, daring to touch Jethri’s arm before backing away. “You’re Khat’s Jethri? She told us all about her cousin Jeth, and—but it’s you? I wish she’d come back to us, but they say she’s on full schedule now…”

Brabham laughed, and Jethri did. Clearly Khat had a conquest on Lantic!

Brabham turned his scoot in a tight circle, and his admirers did some hasty stepping so’s not to be bumped, laughter shared freely.

“Right,” he said. “Now, I need to talk with my good friend Jethri Gobelyn ven’Deelin for a little minute, here. If you wanna hear ’bout the time I got two bad air tanks from Dinsworld-Two and why that’ll never happen again, just wait on out there in the lobby. I’ll gather you up when I’m done here, and we’ll go down the green park.”

The swarm departed, good-natured and excited, about a dozen filtering into the lobby to wait.

Brabham sighed, and spun his scoot around ’til he was facing Jethri again. He moved his hand in a subtle come here. Jethri stepped around the table to stand on one side of the scoot, and there was Freza on the other. Brabham nodded to each of them, smiling.

“Well, there’s someone looking for an uncle, eh, Jethri?” Brabham said. “Khat’s a dozen and half Standards on the wrong side of that one’s bed, but hope and hormones…and hope’s always there, ain’t it?”

Jethri nodded agreement, watching as Brabham’s smile faded, obeying a second motion that brought them even closer, while one finger casually pointed out a few of his followers still in the room.

“What’s happening is that we got word that TerraTrade’s being pushed hard to argue that the timing’s wrong for your Envidaria, that it ought to wait another twenty-five Standards so it can be researched all proper and whatnot.”

Freza nodded, like this was no news to her. Jethri shook his head.

“Too little and too long,” he muttered, and Brabham pulled him closer yet.

“There’s word, that’s what I know. I got copies of a couple circulating messages; I’ve got queries from old friends. We got a copy of a general message that’s going around asking for ships of certain sizes that need upgrades to check in for discounted work…”

“Discounted?” Jethri said, keeping his voice down. “But the yards ought to be filling up already with refurbs!”

“Know it,” the elder agreed, head bobbing up and down so hard that his ride caught a little of the motion.

“Who has all that extra capacity, that’s what we wonder. Be grand if it’s out there, but if it is, why ain’t we heard before now?”

“Smart yard, making a move?” Jethri offered. “Someone with capacity to build big ships looking to lock in business.”

“Could be, but this whole sector’s gonna be needing refits as far as we can see. So yeah, if there’s someone out to the other side of Liad with the energy to do it, I’d let ’em. But it seems like the same people’re offering discounts out of one keyboard, and claiming too soon out the other.”

Jethri frowned. “Why would TerraTrade be—”

“In the middle for this?” Brabham flipped both palms up. “Here’s my guess. Somebody’s trying to break the Loops and family ships in favor of re-crewing point-to-point specials. Strip some of the big ships down as far as they go and cheap-build an outport or two, working with dregs. Take over a couple of the intermediate ports, do breakpod stuff both ways, and run the Loopers out entire. That’ll take time and contracts and…”

“And misinformation,” said Chiv, who’d quietly joined the circle. “Like the one says ships reporting failed Jumps are bein’ paid to break Loops. That the shared broken runs are sims and not real.”

Jethri looked hard at Chiv.

“That’s a good way to lose ships and people, isn’t it? What good…”

Freza shrugged. “If what counts is short term, there’s a lot of ways to make money from confusion.”

He stared at her.

“Confusion that’s killing whole families?”

“That’s what we’re in this for, Jeth,” she murmured.

“Thing is,” Brabham said, dragging their attention back to him. “Thing is, there’s a new generation that’s got more comfortable dealing with Liadens, and the Liadens have been pushing at the edges of our Loops harder and harder. This whole thing with pirates—and I don’t mean Yxtrang, but out-and-out thieves—they’ve gotta be selling what they’re stealing somewhere, right? Who else can swallow up a ship’s worth of this and that and move it in a hurry to the other side of the arm? Gotta be some big ships involved. We know your ship’s not in it—”

Jethri straightened, and stared down at Brabham, not really paying attention to what his face was doing.

Elthoria,” he said, and his voice was so cold, he shivered, “is not a pirate.”

“Said that, din’t I?” Brabham countered. “Good to have a confirm, though.”

“Right.” Jethri sighed, glanced up and saw people moving into the room again, a good few of them on course for his table. He looked to Brabham.

“More later,” he said, “I’m taking lots of notes, complaints as well as offers of help. We can only have so much strategy without knowing who else is moving on this.”

“Right you are,” Brabham said with a nod. “We’ll talk later; lotsa talking to be done, yet; conference isn’t even rightly underway. Word of advice, Jeth?”

“Be grateful,” Jethri said, honestly.

Brabham grinned.

“Pace yourself,” he said. “This is just the warm-up.”

He turned the scoot, and sped away.

Jethri looked at Freza.

“Pace myself,” he said.

“It’s good advice, Jeth,” she told him, half-grinning. “You figure out how to do it, just let me know.”


The line had thinned out again, and Jethri was thinking longingly of calling for a shift change before it got thick again. Freza was looking at her tablet, which probably meant he couldn’t call a halt, but maybe he could at least take a walk.

Right. He put his hands flat on the table, pushed his chair back—

The fractin in his pocket trembled, warming slightly and vibrating to a low pulse beat against his leg.

Freza glanced up, raising the tablet and waggling it lightly.

“Last scheduled person is Riben Ontaus, from the Volanta Group, but they’ve sent they’re running late down on the exhibit docks—that’s where Brabham’s talking with a bunch of folks now. Trader Ontaus asks to be granted a couple minutes’ grace. Meanwhile, we got somebody else who’d like a short meeting. I think I’ll go check on Ontaus in person, it’s only a couple decks down. Maybe suggest he’d like to reschedule.”

“Reschedule if you can,” he told her. “I’m looking for a shift-end. You?”

“Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll reschedule. Meet you here, or—”

“Come to Genchi,” he said. “If your boards are clear.”

“If they ain’t I’ll find out why,” she told him, and smiled. “Genchi, soon’s I can.”

She turned, looked over her shoulder, and half-grinned—she’d caught him looking. He didn’t blush; she had to know by now that he liked to watch her move, but he did obey the slight inclination of her head toward the meet-line…

…where stood Minsha, Elsvair’s “advisor,” her face serene, holding a well-used, but obviously sealed flatpack of the kind used to carry hardcopy from place to place. She nodded politely, and came to the table, allowing herself to be noted and seated, whereupon she leaned forward to offer him a hand. The edge of an easily palmable device was just visible. The Terran handshake was meant to disguise its passage from her possession into his.

He felt his fractin vibrate as he realized the device was live. He’d held such before, and had gotten easier with doing it. And his fractin, which really did appear to have his best interests at heart, seemed easy.

He folded his hands together momentarily, feeling the shape—a smooth bulging ovoid, with a blunt end that had what might be controls recessed within it. The end was broad enough that the object might stand on it, but what it might actually be—he had no idea.

His fractin’s warmth diminished slightly, but there were no loud buzzes, no signs that he recognized as warning.

He looked at Minsha and inclined his head. She extracted a sheaf of hardcopy from her pack and passed it over to him.

“A more recent listing of available ordinary trade items that might interest you, Trader. Too, a more recent inventory of our capacities in case you may be looking for trans-shipping opportunities.”

With a trader’s patience, Jethri looked over the very modest possibilities Elsvair offered, noticing that it reported more passengers and crew than one might expect with its pod-capacity. Maybe they were going to break pods by hand at some out of the way location.

He hadn’t expected such a low-key presentation with a mystery device having been surreptitiously passed, but she seemed alert to moving people and when the random motions slowed, she inclined slightly from the waist in a seated bow, and tapped the hand she’d passed the object from.

“Trader. It pleases my associates Vally and Malu that I deliver to you an item which you have purchased but which was mistakenly not included in those delivered to you yesterday. They are distraught not to be able to discuss this with you in person but as the port administration has asked them to stay aboard ship for at least the next two Standard days, I myself bring it to you.”

Jethri avoided raising his eyebrow, and also avoided asking the obvious question.

“It is kind of you, Trade Advisor Minsha—”

“No, Trader, please, we need no titles mentioned here in public, just Minsha.”

She sounded quite firm, so he nodded acceptance.

“Minsha, then. It is kind of you to bring this…purchase…to me. Are there particulars? Instructions? Guidance? Hints? Are you in danger for bringing it to me, or I, for receiving it?”

Her mouth tightened, as if she considered on a special level, seeking the possibilities…and then she brushed her now-empty palm, as if removing crumbs.

Danger is a strong word, Trader, but you see me here, now. You must understand that the item is exactly such as you sought last evening, and exactly such as you thought you had purchased. It is also an item that ought not to be discovered on Elsvair, or carried in public by—” here she played with the sounds, as if recalling the names distantly, “Vally or Malu.”

Her face brightened. “If you carry it, or if your ship has it, it is unlikely to become an issue, since you are the komercisto who knows the Dust routes, and you are the man, as we understand it, who sells things to the Uncle and is applauded for it! Such a thing, to know the Uncle so well that he buys your time!”

This was portside gossip for sure, and he should have expected it to become common knowledge, but he wasn’t used to being quite such a center of attention. News traveled with ships, though, and it also often grew over time, so he was well served to hear it from her.

She glanced around the room, and Jethri wondered if she saw the things he did. She was fidgeting with more hardcopy, which was a good way for her to disguise both her expression and her careful scan of the room and doorway.

“So here, here is my card in public, Trader, and here is my thanks for buying a meal for my compatriots in the time of our need. We await a shift in fortunes, and a ship with a cargo due us, one or both. Lacking a pinbeam, and lacking connections such as you have, we are very much strangers to this place and these customs. Who expects items of interest to be contraband, I ask you? Who expects travelers to be warned by the port to stay on ship for a time when so much goes on about us?”

With a major flourish she handed over her card and the ship’s card, smiling.

Rising, she nodded.

“I see Port people who may recognize me, magiestro; I myself have not been told to stay shipboard and would prefer to not hear it said. We will do what we can about giving directions, or if you will, warnings.”

She bowed, smiled, turned and walked into the crowd. If there was someone there looking for her Jethri didn’t see them; but he was seated and the crowd busy.

Alone at the table, Jethri took the opportunity to leaf through the hardcopy again, pulled a comm to make a copy of the cover, and thus disguise his own shifting of the smooth-skinned item into an inside pocket of his trade coat, just in case there was someone watching, as Minsha had suggested.

His meet-line was empty, still. He guessed Freza had been firm on that rescheduling with Riben Ontaus. Now, if ever, it was time to shut down and go home to Genchi.

Again, he put his hands flat on the table, and this time gained his feet before a motion caught the side of his eye, and he turned.

Chiv was bearing down on his table with refreshments for two, Bry Sen trailing behind, face so bland that Jethri felt a twinge of concern. Of Freza there was no sign, but Chiv was clearly tense.

“I hope this will hold you for now, Trader—Freza’s gone to the exhibit dock. She said your next appointment’s there, so you should take a break. She said to be easy. Bry Sen needs to talk to you, so I’ll go wait at the doors until things are clearer.”

Jethri stared, but Chiv was already gone.

“A problem, Trader?” Bry Sen asked.

“Freza’d gone down to the exhibition deck to strongly suggest to my next appointment that postponing was better than late.”

“Ah,” Bry Sen said. “About that. I have information.”

Jethri frowned.

“I am ready,” he said in tart Liaden, “to hear information, Pilot.”

“Gently, gently,” Bry Sen said, in Terran. “Here, sip your ’mite, which I am told is better drunk warm. I will likewise sip mine, and we will recruit ourselves as comrades sharing a difficult shift.”

“How difficult?” Jethri asked, in Terran. He picked up a cup as Bry Sen settled into the chair next to him with an extremely unLiaden, but perfectly Looper, “whoof.”

Jethri drank some ’mite, which really was better hot, and watched as Bry Sen sipped from his cup and tried not to grimace.

After another swallow, Bry Sen managed a slight smile, and leaned his head closer to Jethri as if he’d suddenly picked up the habit from the rest of Jethri’s aides.

“Information?” Jethri suggested.

“Ah, information.” Bry Sen leaned to put his cup on the table, and settled into the chair again.

“We have received several more deliveries of flowers, Trader, and I have arranged to have them taken to our suite, where they can occupy a room with its own airflow so that we do not suffocate from the heavy odors these blooms exude. I say odors because fragrance is too kind.”

Jethri took another drink of ’mite, and waited.

“Yes,” Bry Sen said. “Information, then. I am told that your galandaria Brabham has become involved in an animated discussion on the exhibit docks. This discussion has grown from one between two or three individuals to one between thirty or forty individuals, some of them much louder than is polite, while others demand the removal of yet others by the station constabulary.”

Jethri sat up straight.

“Brabham? Is it a riot? Freza’s there?”

“Your associate Freza did not dignify it as a riot, but she did ask me to join you here until she might bring Brabham back to Balrog. If necessary, Chiv and I will escort you to Genchi. We are prepared, even, to escort Brabham, Freza, and other Balrog crew members if that happens to be necessary.”

Jethri put his cup on the table, and began to stand.

“I have to go there!”

Bry Sen put his hand on Jethri’s sleeve.

“No, Trader. Freza, who is on-site, particularly asks that you not add yourself to the situation. I gather there are multiple viewpoints being expressed at volume; we are promised video.”

“That’s a riot you’re describing, though Meldyne Station might call it different. I should—”

“You should rely on your people,” Bry Sen said firmly. “Since we do not yet know the source of the problem, you should allow your people to find and bring the information to you. Also—” he reached for his cup and manfully took another drink. “Also, it is often useful in such situations to have trusted persons on the outside of trouble, in case there is a need for fines to be paid, or releases to be negotiated.”

He made a soothing pilot sign with his free hand—low jets, low jets.

“None of the port comms I monitor has anything stronger than a call for a constable or two to move a crowd along before it becomes disruptive.”

He touched his ear then, eyes going vague as he listened.

“Your comm is wanting to be turned on I gather, Trader,” he said. “Balrog comm…”

Balrog comm? He thought that was on, in the same pocket as the device he’d just taken from Minsha.

He reached to the pocket, pulled out the comm, feeling his fractin vibrate lightly.

As soon as the comm cleared his pocket, the alert light snapped on, blinking rapidly. He brought it to his ear.

“ven’Deelin.”

“Jeth, you can’t put us in outer orbit while you do trade,” Freza sounded breathless. “I’ve been signaling you—”

“Interference,” he said. “The light just now started blinking.”

“We’ll have to look at that quick,” she muttered. “Anyhow—it’s a good thing your shift’s over, ’cause just about every Looper on-station’s either down here arguing, or walking around looking for port officials. Go on back to Genchi, and I’ll meet you there. I got somebody from TerraTrade you want to talk to, maybe tonight.”

He blinked.

“We had plans,” he said, softly.

“I know,” she said with a laugh. “But this happened, and he’s willing to talk to you as long as he can do it pretty quick before the first open session starts—that’s two days. So sometime, but with tight meetings and tonight would be good. And he came to me to ask—that’s a good sign. The crowd’s starting to dither and split, so might be best if you and Chiv and Bry Sen just wander away before anybody remembers where you were sitting. I’ll come to Genchi soon’s I get Brabham back and checked.”

“I can come there—” he began.

“Think not, Jeth. You’ll want the meeting room ready, if we can get you together with Bory Borygard. He’s not gonna be comfortable in a ship as small as Balrog. Trust me. I talked to him, he asked to meet you in person, and I’m gonna bring him to you if I can, or have him meet us. And yeah, I’ve got some video and so do some others—watch for it incoming. Be ready! Out.”

Bry Sen and Chiv were both watching him. He put the comm away in another pocket, sighed, and got up.

“Let’s close up, here. We’re going to Genchi.”

In his pocket, the Balrog comm began chattering to let him know info was coming in. By the time it stopped, he and his escort were walking back to Genchi.


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