"They'll invite you too."
"I'll be out hunting meat for the dogs. You'll go stay with the Hendersons as usual. You just be careful what you tell Bernie Trent."
"He won't be interested in me at all," Kip said.
"Don't be sure. He could be very interested in any kid your age, interested enough to check up on your background, anyway. And he'll be damned interested in me. So if he asks, just tell what you know. I'm your Uncle Mike Flynn, and your mother was my sister. You don't know what happened to your father. His name was Allan Brewster and he ran off and left your mother before you were born. Your mother brought you here because she had a relative on Paradise. Me. Then she died in that fever epidemic ten years ago. You don't remember her."
"Did you hear that?"
"YES."
"It's not true! Uncle Mike is telling me lies!"
"THAT IS CORRECT. WHAT HE HAS SAID IS NOT TRUE. DOUBTLESS HE HAS GOOD REASONS. HUMANS OFTEN ACT IN INCOMPREHENSIBLE WAYS FOR PURPOSES I DO NOT ALWAYS UNDERSTAND. WE ARE BOTH INSTRUCTED TO GIVE GREAT WEIGHT TO WHAT YOUR UNCLE MIKE TELLS YOU TO DO. WE SHOULD DO SO NOW. ADVICE: BE VERY CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY NOW UNLESS YOU INTEND TO TELL UNCLE MIKE ABOUT ME."
Kip thought about that. "Unless you intend to tell Uncle Mike" sounded like an invitation to decide for himself, and that was frightening. It was certainly not something to do in a hurry. "Uncle Mike, you said my father was a good man, and you worked for him, and he's dead! Now you tell me he ran off—"
Uncle Mike pulled Kip to him and hugged him. "He was a good man, and he is dead, Kip, but it's a lot safer if you tell it the way I said. I know you won't understand. You'll just have to trust me."
"Why won't you tell me the real story?"
"I'm beginning to think maybe I should. Kip, you're growing up, but you're still a boy. It's a lot of big stuff to dump on your head at once, and I'm afraid you'll get mixed up if you know all of it. Hell, I don't know the whole story, and maybe some of what I know isn't even true. Look, let's get through this visit by the General Manager, then I'll think about how much I can tell you."
Chapter Sixteen
Bernie Trent
HE'S coming tomorrow," Kip said. Uncle Mike looked at him inquisitively. "How do you know that?" Kip almost blurted out that Gwen had told him, but instead he said, "I just got E-mail from Lara." It felt strange to tell Uncle Mike a deliberate lie. "Mr. Trent has reserved a helicopter at Cisco for tomorrow morning, and he'll be here tomorrow just after noon."
Cisco was the closest settlement large enough to have a jet airport, and was three hundred kilometers west of Starswarm Station, more than two hours away at comfortable helicopter cruising speeds.
"Time for me to head out," Mike said. He had been making plans to go into the bush. "Got your bag packed?"
"Sure. Won't you need me?"
"You're old enough to be useful, but I think it's better you stay and meet Bernie Trent. Besides, you have school."
"It won't hurt me to miss some school. I don't learn much there anyway."
Uncle Mike looked at him strangely. "You don't, do you? You seem to learn more on your own. Well, even so, best we do it this way. We won't tell Dr. Henderson I know anything about Bernie coming tomorrow. You just go on over there and tell him I took off. Main thing is I'd as soon he didn't connect me leaving with Bernie coming."
"I don't see why he would," Kip said. "Does Dr. Henderson know the GWE is coming?"
"BERNARD TRENT HAS NOT INFORMED DR. HENDERSON BY ANY MEANS I HAVE ACCESS TO. IT IS POSSIBEE HE HAS DONE SO BY DIRECT TELEPHONE COMMUNICATION."
"Or maybe he sent him a letter."
"POSSIBLE: THE RESERVATIONS WERE MADE THIS MORNING. THE LAST PAPER MAIL DELIVERIES WERE TWO DAYS AGO. THERE WERE TWO LETTERS FOR DR. HENDERSON BUT NONE FROM BERNARD TRENT."
"How do you know that? "
"BERNARD TRENT HAS ORDERED THE MAIN GWE COMPUTER TO KEEP A RECORD OF ALL MAIL DELIVERIES TO DR. HENDERSON."
"Why?"
"HE HAS NOT INFORMED ME."
Kip giggled. Gwen rarely made jokes, and when she did Kip didn't always understand them. "Does the GWE computer record letters from, Mr. Trent?"
"l HAD NOT CONSIDERED THAT. NO. IN ANY EVENT I FIND IT UNLIKELY THAT HE INFORMED HIM BY LETTER SINCE BERNARD TRENT HAD APPOINTMENTS IN PEARLY GATES FOR TOMORROW MORNING AND THOSE WERE CANCELED ONLY ONE HOUR AGO."
"You think he's sneaking up on Dr. Henderson?"
"IT IS NOT UNUSUAL FOR MR. TRENT TO ANNOUNCE HIS INTENTION TO VISIT A GWE FACILITY AND THEN TO GIVE NO WARNING OF THE DAY AND TIME OF THE VISIT. HE IS ON RECORD AS SAYING THIS IS A DESIRABLE MANAGEMENT TECHNIQUE. THEREFORE—"
"Understood."
"I sure won't mention anything about it to Dr. Henderson," Kip said aloud.
"Good." Uncle Mike picked up the phone and punched numbers. "Dr. Henderson—right, Mike Flynn. Weather forecasts look good, so I'll head for the bush if that's all right. . . . Yeah, I figure I'll move out in an hour or so. . . . Right, I'll send Kip over now. Thanks! Bye."
Uncle Mike left the station with his backpack and rifle and all of the dogs except Silver and Mukky and Annie, and Kip went to stay at Dr. Henderson's house. In the morning they heard that the General Manager would be arriving in half an hour.
"Not very damn much warning," Dr. Henderson said.
Mrs. Henderson looked at the children. "Must you swear?"
"Sorry. Well, I better go meet him."
The helicopter pad was at the northeast corner of Starswarm Station, in the empty lot across a street from Dr. Henderson's house. Dr. Henderson went to meet the helicopter. Kip and Lara stayed upstairs in Lara's room and watched through the window.
"Only one helicopter," Lara said. She peered through her binoculars. "And only two people with him. Three, counting the pilot. I thought he was supposed to travel with dozens of people."
"I don't know," Kip said. "Uncle Mike said he probably would—"
"I don't think your Uncle Mike likes Mr. Trent."
"I guess not, but I don't know why. I don't think he ever met him."
Lara looked at him, but she didn't say anything. She turned the binoculars back to the helipad. "There he is. That must be him. He's short! Not any taller than Mother."
Kip used his own glasses to examine the General Manager. There wasn't much to see. As Lara said, Trent wasn't much taller than Mrs. Henderson. He wasn't wearing a hat, and the wind from the helicopter rotors made a mess of his medium-length brown hair. He was wearing tan trousers like everyone wore at the station, and a blue nylon parka with the red GWE stripes and a GWE patch on the breast pocket. If they hadn't known who he was they wouldn't have paid any attention to him at all. "Maybe that's not him. . ."
"They're carrying his suitcase," Lara said. "And Daddy's shaking hands with him—"
Kip used his binoculars. "IDENTIFICATION POSITIVE. THAT IS GENERAL MANAGER BERNARD TRENT."
"Can you see him all right?"
"YES. YOU HAVE BECOME QUITE PROFICIENT AT LETTING ME VIEW THINGS AS YOU SEE THEM. ADVICE: BE CAUTIOUS IN WHAT YOU SAY. WHATEVER OTHER DANGERS THERE MAY BE, HE WOULD ALMOST CERTAINLY CAUSE ME TO BE TERMINATED IF HE KNEW OF MY EXISTENCE. EVEN IF HE DID NOT, THERE ARE THOSE IN GWE MANAGEMENT WHO WOULD, AND IT IS UNLIKELY HE WOULD KEEP MY EXISTENCE SECRET."
"All right."
Dr. and Mrs. Henderson were leading Trent to the house. One of Trent's companions carried Bernie Trent's suitcase. Otherwise there was no more ceremony or excitement than when the supply helicopter came. Kip was vaguely disappointed.
Kip and Lara ate in the kitchen, but they were invited to join the adults after dinner. Trent had brought real coffee and chocolate, both rare at Starswarm Station.
"This is my daughter Lara, Mr. Trent," Mrs. Henderson said. "And her friend Kenneth Brewster, usually called Kip."
Bernard Trent turned his intense blue eyes on Lara and seemed to study her for several seconds. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lara." He turned to Kip. The blue eyes seemed to bore into his head. "Kip? I don't
know anyone else with that name, but it seems familiar somehow. Where do you come from, Kip?"
"I think from Earth," Kip said gravely. "But I don't really know."
"Kip is an orphan," Dr. Henderson explained quickly. "He doesn't remember anything before coming to the station."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that," Trent said. "You live here with Dr. Henderson, then?"
"No, sir, I live with my Uncle Mike," Kip said.
"Uncle Mike?"
"Mike Flynn," Dr. Henderson said. "He's our bush hunter and dog trainer. Just at the moment he's out hunting meat to feed the dogs."
"I help train the dogs too," Kip said. "And sometimes I get to go hunting too."
"That's nice," Trent said. He was staring at Kip, as if he recognized him. "What did you say your Uncle Mike's name was?"
"Mr. Flynn," Kip said. "He was my mother's brother."
"And he lives here now?"
"Yes, sir, he always has," Kip said. "Ever since I can remember."
"Um. Well, I guess Starswarm Station is a pretty good place to grow up in," Trent said. "Lots of country air. No street gangs. Pretty good place. Maybe my kids can come visit sometime. Well, Henderson, I think it's time to talk seriously. Nice to meet you, kids. May I have some more coffee, Mrs. Henderson?"
"Yes, I'll get it. Come along, children." She shepherded them out of the room and went on to the kitchen to bring back the coffeepot.
"Want to play space war?" Lara asked.
"No."
"War Craft, then. I'll be Orcs—"
"No, I don't want to play games."
"Well what—"
"I want to listen to them talk," Kip said.
"Why?"
"I don't know," Kip said gravely. "But I want to. Maybe if we just stay here in the hall—"
Lara looked thoughtful for a moment, then giggled. "If I show you something will you promise not to tell?"
"Sure, I promise."
"Come on." She led him up the stairs to her bedroom. "In the closet," she said. "This room used to be unfinished, and there's a ventilator in the closet. You can hear everything in the living room from there. I used to listen to Mom and Dad all the time. Now you promised not to tell. . . ."
"I won't tell," Kip said. He went into the closet. He could hear a low hum of voices, and when he bent down he found a ventilator grill. "Thanks," he whispered.
"Move over. We can both listen."
Chapter Seventeen
Proxy Fight
HENDERSON, need a proxy for the Foundation's GWE stock," Bernard Trent was saying. "Up to now it hasn't mattered all that much, but I presume you've heard the news. If you haven't, you'll hear it soon enough. The Hilliard Combine is trying to take control of GWE. They've lined up support from American Express, and they're bribing people in the U.S. Social Security management, so it's serious. I'll need every vote I can get. They've got proxies from some of the mutuals and pension fund bottom liners, and they have lawyers out deviling others with threats of lawsuits about fiduciary responsibility—"
"I know. They sent me a letter," Dr. Henderson said. "When? Why didn't you tell me? What did it say?"
"When: about twenty Paradise days ago. Why didn't I tell you? When would I have? We don't normally communicate, Mr. Trent, and I didn't think it worth the trouble it would take to get your attention."
"I'll leave you an E-mail address that will always reach me," Trent said. "And I'd appreciate it if you let me know immediately if you hear from these people again."
"Why didn't he already know?"
"NO SUCH LETTER IS IN THE GWE FILES."
"All right," Dr. Henderson said. "But it was clear you already knew about their takeover bid."
"Sure, I did. So they said—"
"I'll find the letter for you, but in short it's a threat. If I support you against their bid and you lose, they'll do all they can to revoke the charter of the Foundation. Since they'll be the effective government here, I suppose that's a serious threat. And if you win, they'll attempt to prosecute me personally for betraying my fiduciary trust by not accepting their offer, since their offer is supposed to bring more money to the Foundation. They sounded quite serious."
"Smart," Bernie Trent said. "What did you tell them?"
"I didn't think they deserved an answer. The Trent family created the Foundation, and has always defended us if we needed defending. It would be boorish to turn to others for more, and I don't intend to do it."
"Good man. If we win, you don't have a problem. So long as we're in control of GWE, there's nothing they can do to you on Paradise. Any lawsuit they file here will be dismissed. They might make it tough for you to go back to Earth, I guess—"
"I've no intention of returning to Earth. Of course there is the matter of that proposed strip mining here at the station," Dr. Henderson said thoughtfully.
"Yeah. I thought that would come up," Trent said. His voice was filled with irony. "The problem is, you're sitting on a valuable mineral deposit. Rare earths. All kinds of stuff for doping computer chips. You're sitting on a big strike, Henderson."
"Why wasn't I told earlier?"
"Company secret. I wouldn't tell you now if I wasn't sure you already know," Trent said.
"Mr. Trent says the station is sitting on mineral deposits!"
"I HAVE NO RECORD OF THIS. THEY MUST BE KEEPING IT VERY SECRET. I WILL INVESTIGATE. ADVICE: THIS IS A SERIOUS DEVELOPMENT—"
"Shh! I want to listen."
"What makes you believe I know this?"
"Come on, Doc, it was your early reports that got the geology boys interested in the first place. Then all of a sudden you stopped talking about minerals. Like you were censoring your own reports. So I had a couple of geology grad students bone up on xenobiology and sent them up here to work for you—"
"Peterson and Walling. I thought there was something strange about their education. Not to mention coming here and then abruptly leaving."
"Yep, Peterson and Walling. They brought back samples, and there's just not any doubt about what's here. Hell, Doc, if they can figure out what's here from rock samples and lake water, I know damned well you can. Got any more coffee?"
"Yes." There was a long silence. Then Dr. Henderson said, "All right. I suspected, and I didn't really want to know. And I didn't want you to know either. I don't want strip mines and refineries here."
"Doc, I hate to tell you this, but what you want doesn't matter a lot just now. Yeah, yeah, Doc, I know. Hell, it doesn't make a lot of difference what I want either. This is just too damn valuable to sit on. Might be different if it was just us that knew about it, but I think Hilliard has got wind of it."
"You think—"
"All right, I know they have."
"Good Lord. How?"
"Simplest way in the world. Walling sold them the information. Doc, we did everything we could to hide this strike. I even worried that someone might tap into the GWE computer system, so we never made any records there. But there's nothing short of murder can keep someone from selling information this valuable, and I may do a lot but I haven't got to murder yet. Admit I thought of it when I found out Walling was going to Hilliard."
"If you hadn't sent him—"
"If wishes were tractors, beggars would farm. Now Hilliard has got wind of it, and they're putting together a joint venture to get control of GWE, and that's just the way things are. They'd probably have made a play for us anyway sooner or later, but this was the clincher." There was a long silence. Then Trent continued, "So it won't do you any good to threaten that you'll support the Hilliard bid as a lever to kill the strip mines, because that's one of the main reasons Hilliard wants control in the first place. They get in, they'll start the mines going for sure."
"Perhaps," Dr. Henderson said evenly. "But how quickly can they begin? Mr. Trent, this is a very serious matter for us. We don't understand the Starswarms at all, but we have more data on the one in our lake than any other. It's very old, possibly the oldest freshwater Starswarm on the p
lanet. It is clearly part of a very complex ecology involving the centaurs and other native creatures. Large-scale strip mining will destroy that ecology and probably kill the Starswarm with lake pollution. If I can't prevent that, I will certainly do whatever I must to delay it as long as possible. Whatever I must do. No matter how unpleasant."
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