by Baen Books
He said, "Yeah, I signed off on that, after a lengthy tour. As much as I want to help, being locked out of my own home is a tough call." He also had Paul using an abandoned conduit to check on them. The engineer reported everything to be good.
She replied, "It affects my observations, too, but even though I'm nominally in charge, both Prescot and Brandt want his data. So I have to make do."
"What do I need to know about anything upcoming?" he asked.
"Well, once you can operate again, Andy has a clear zone we really need kept free of trajectories, if you can manage it at all. He's very firm on this, but of course, it's your station. Keeping in mind if his team pulls out we have to renegotiate our terms." She seemed embarrassed. "There's another large pod train coming in with additional gear, stocks for you, and a few more personnel."
"Understood. As long as Operations has it, I have no problem. It's not as if it's an astrogation hazard. One other question, if I may."
"Go ahead."
"Why did you arrive in what's essentially a stealth military vessel from deep space?"
She made a face.
"Andy's work, again. They were explicit that we not disrupt space any more than necessary so we could get a clean baseline for examining forcelines and other structures. We were towed around by a tug, and he made them detach farther out than I was comfortable with. The boat is secured against as much leakage as possible. It's basically the equivalent of a clean room. You notice the supply vessels only come in from the docking pole vector."
"So am I even going to be able to resume docking ops, then?"
She looked really embarrassed.
"Yes. Andy will be very unhappy, but at that point, he has to make do. We've accommodated him as much as we can. That decision's up to me, and that's why I'm in charge even though his research has priority."
"Administration and politics," he said, feeling empathy for her.
"Exactly. Thanks for the tea. Shall I check in on Friday?"
"That should be fine."
He didn't bring up that Brandt wasn't clear on their status. He'd save that a bit longer.
After she left, he called Rofert.
"I have a favor for next week," he said.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Can one of your inspection tugs make an orbit around the station?"
"Not an orbit per se, in any reasonable time, but we have enough juice in one to pull a loop, yes."
"Thanks, I'll get with you."
He thought about contacting Space Guard and reporting on events, but he was officially a neutral nation. Contacting them put him more under Earth's thumb and less in the independent category. As curious as he was, he was still a head of state. If Earth stepped in, even the courts might revoke his status.
They were demanding a response to their previous offer, too. The UN Bureau of Space Development understood he controlled a station, etc, and were pleased to extend an offer of salvage cost for the low-use asset, etc, in lieu of further action to assess a bunch of issues that could result in fines.
He needed something soon or they were just going to show up and drag him to Earth.
Could Govannon or Brandt run some public ships here and put up a pretense of interest?
He called back, "Paul, and Nicol, we need to have a meeting on this."
Rofert replied, "On my way."
Nicol said, "Right here." She stepped through from her office.
With everyone seated in G, and something stronger than tea to drink, he opened the discussion.
"The UN, Earth specifically, is trying to hurry us into abandonment. They don't seem to be willing to wait, and they're pestering us. Govannon hasn't expressed interest, but is happy to support a Brandt operation here. We've got speculation that Grainne, if they remain this 'Freehold,' is interested. I need input."
Paul Rofert sipped whisky and said, "Prescot has plenty of resources and might like a remote maintenance facility. You and I have discussed this. If that offer wasn't good then, it doesn't mean it might not be good again soon. They value privacy, too."
Nicol said, "The problem is, they have everything they need on their side. On our side, Frontier Station isn't presently doing enough business to get in the way of maintenance docking, and they have lease agreements for dock space."
"And Grainne?" he asked.
Paul twisted his mouth.
"That all depends on them surviving a war and remaining independent."
"Yes," Jackson said. "The same applies to us. We're smaller, and even more readily occupied. But I don't want to throw in with what may be the losing side."
"Will almost certainly be," Nicol said. "They don't have the infrastructure to fight for long. The UN, meaning Earth, is stupidly focusing on the planet more than on space resources, but still, they can't do it."
Paul said, "The guests are straightforward to deal with. But the scientists can't speak for the government, and what government they had is in hiding."
Nicol said, "That still may have been a warship they were in. It was probably repurposed, but I still don't trust them."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Business as usual, oh, and by the way, can we set up clandestinely with you, right next to our enemy? I don't like it."
"Any more word on their bona fides?"
She said, "The scientists have written peer reviewed papers and appear to be legitimate, but I'd be hard pressed to say they have the seniority for a mission like this."
"Meaning?"
She said, "Meaning they could have been hired as a front."
Paul said, "Possibly they were the only ones available?"
She shook her head. "You'd still send them, but someone with more field time would be in charge."
Jackson said, "The issue is, this is our only income at present, and while it covers some essentials, we're not making any money. I'm paying everyone out of company capital. I can't do that for long. So we still come down to, do we close shop now, hold out until this science mission runs out and hope something comes along, or do something else?"
Nicol said, "You've been honest with everyone about when it might roll over us. Don't worry about that."
"But I do," he said. "Stringing it out isn't fair and doesn't make sense, unless we have a good chance of succeeding."
She said, "I suppose I should be honest and admit I sent my resume to Prescot for any relevant position."
"I don't blame you," he said. He didn't, but damn, if she didn't see an out, and he didn't, it was all over. "I guess in that case, when you get an acceptance, I take that as the turning point and close up."
Paul sat very still and said, "I'll remain until the end. There's nothing for me on Earth."
Jackson remembered that Rofert had been in space since his family died in a "pacification" conflict. All cultures were equal on Earth. But occasionally a culture was deemed troublesome and "reintegrated."
He looked at his engineer and lifelong friend. The man had been working here before he was born. "You will ride with me, and we'll go to Titan. And I guess I know what I have to do. Nicol, tell everyone we'll resume departure plans. Paul, your people will need to stay. And I still want to make that survey. Call it nostalgia."
"Understood."
"Got it."
#
The incoming ship did have a lot more supplies, and more personnel.
It was getting very suspicious. What did a group of researchers need with so many technical assistants? Yes, they'd helped do a lot of equipment overhaul, even to the point of surface treatments and duct cleaning. But why?
If they wanted a hostile takeover, this was a slow way about it, and what point would it serve? If tramp freighters didn't need his station, no larger group would. Few corporations had the funds to waste, and those would have just offered to buy him out and grant him a bunch of favors. The actual governments just wanted to ignore him or exercise eminent domain.
He was going to make that orbit, and Andy's research be damned.
&
nbsp; #
Later that day, Jackson realized he needed a new V-suit. He hadn't gained much weight, but a decade had changed his shape. This one pinched and rubbed. It would last the trip, though.
Rofert personally flew him. They had to inspect the docking array anyway. They ungrappled and slowly accelerated out from the axis.
Pointing to the dock through the port, Rofert said, "It's aligned within very close tolerances, about point five mils."
"Impressive," he said. The visitors' work was honest, no matter what else was going on.
"Now aft and ante," Rofert said.
They overshot the dock while decelerating, got a good scan of the outer terminal and beacon, then slowly moved back. There were workers in the pools of illumination on the scaffolding, some his, more of them visitors. There were over fifty of them now, and it made no sense.
"Let's see what the sneaky bastards are up to," Rofert said as they reached relative zero and started moving back. "Control, Engineer One stating intent to change trajectory and proceed ante for scheduled observation."
"Engineer One, Control confirms, proceed."
The docking pylon, then the melted regolith moved a hundred meters below, punctuated with ports and structures of the lodge, of old construction locks and the control tower and his residence. It really was a tiny station, and a tiny nation. It couldn't be relevant to anyone, and long term it was doomed anyway.
There was nothing significant visible as they passed the irregular lump that marked the arbitrary equator, but then . . .
"Holy crap," he muttered. "Did you see all this, Paul?"
The entire ante polar region had been built on. There were scaffolds, gantries, three docked tugs he could see in addition to the regular boat. There were a lot more than a hundred personnel here, too, because he could see close to that many swarming around building stuff.
In one way or another, it was a hostile takeover.
Then everything went black.
Rofert said, "I'm afraid I did, sir."
"'Sir'? Are we down to that, then?"
Sweat suddenly burst from him. It was a sellout, and it was hostile. Paul had been in on whatever it was.
"We're not low on power," Paul said. "We've been disrupted." He pulled out a rescue light and started flashing it, just as something obscured the view.
It was a stealth boat, bay open, maneuvering to intercept.
"Paul . . . this was not cool. Not at all."
"Hold on, please, sir. You need to see this." He sounded earnest and urgent.
The invading force, because that's what it was, had turned the rear third of his castle into a combat operations center. He'd seen what he needed to.
He kept quiet, because his life might depend on not irritating anyone. He'd let them have the rock, as long as they let his people go, even if it meant detention for a while first.
Detention, at least, would still be in space. Arguably better than being "free" on Earth.
Whoever was in the boat was cautious and careful. It was long minutes before they were ensconced in the bay. It closed, blacker inside than out, the stars and station disappearing.
There were bumps, and lights came back on. Hanging off the davit holding them were several armed troops.
The one in front waved for attention and spoke through a contact mic. "Mr. Bates and Mr. Rofert, if you will please open and disembark, the atmosphere is safe."
Rofert looked at him, shrugged and unlatched the hatch port.
They were allowed to maneuver to the forward end of the bay, where actual deck was, and tie to stanchions. When the bay was pressurized the others unmasked, so Jackson did, too.
The nearest man said, "We apologize for the circumstances. We'd hoped to delay this a bit longer." He looked Hawaiian in ancestry. And broad. About fifty. His accent was from the Grainne Freehold Halo.
Jackson replied, "I'm sorry to have hindered your war."
From the other, "Who said anything about war?"
"It's obvious you're from Grainne and using my home as at least an intel base. It's already set up for that, and I don't have any way to stop you." He should be furious. He'd had suspicions and at this point, it didn't change the outcome of losing his livelihood. Both sides could die, for all he cared. And Paul . . . had obviously seen this in his conduit crawl, and why hadn't Jackson insisted on going along, too?
He turned, "Paul? Why?"
Paul said, "Sir, I know you don't want to abandon your home. Earth would kill you whether intentionally or not. I promised your father I'd maintain it and keep it. This is the only outlet we have, for now."
The officer said, "We intend no violence against you."
He asked, "Do you intend violence against Earth?"
The man responded, "At present, we are gathering scientific information."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"How many questions about the data you transfer have you answered? Or even asked?"
That was valid. He knew much of the data they handled was questionable, if not outright illicit. This, though, pushed the envelope of plausible deniability.
He said, "I acted in good faith. Even though your presentation was questionable."
The man said, "You acted in your own self interest. You still can. The scientists are doing so."
"So you're funding them?"
"They're funded by Brandt and Prescot, as they said. We're furnishing labor and transport."
He'd accuse them of being cheap, but he knew what charter transport would cost.
The man added, "We're also providing your supplies, at present."
There was the offer. "What do you require me to do?"
"Nothing at all. Just tell no one. We'll continue to cover your operating costs, and we hope the war will end shortly. At that point, you resume being a private exchange and transshipment point."
He believed that was true and honest. He wasn't sure it was something the man could realistically promise.
He replied, "So I have to choose which side I take, in a war I didn't want any part of."
"I guess that's up to you," his counterpart said. "When a landslide starts, the pebbles don't get a vote. The war has started, but the hostilities haven't reached here yet. You not only get a vote, you must vote."
He could be their ally, or their prisoner. Either way, Earth would regard him as hostile and treat him accordingly. They'd wanted Starhome back from the moment his father claimed it.
"I'd have to tell my exec," he warned.
The man nodded. "Yes, just face to face. No transmissions, and none of the inside staff."
It wasn't as if he could call anyone. If he managed to get a message to Earth, even if they believed it, they'd destroy everything his family had, and likely charge him anyway.
Earth had attacked a small nation with a lot of resources because it offered political leverage against others. They in turn had occupied his home because it offered leverage back.
"I wanted to be neutral," he said.
Very seriously, the man said, "So did we, sir."
The parallel was ironic.
Jackson said, "I have nothing to lose. At the same time, I have nothing to gain. What bargaining position do you have, sir?"
The big officer flexed as he moved. It wasn't intimidation. He was just that big with muscle. He pulled out a flask, took a swig, and offered it.
"Silver Birch. Some consider it our finest liquor."
It was informal, but they were in a cargo bay, on a deck surrounded by loading equipment. He accepted with a nod, took a drink, and damn, that was smooth. He'd heard of it, but even the head of state of a rock couldn't afford such imports.
"Very nice," he said.
The officer said, "For now, I can increase cash payments somewhat, to cover our 'maintenance facility.' And I assure you only noncombatant craft will dock here for the duration. That's to our benefit and yours. If you'll tell me what you need for payroll and other overhead, I can approve it."
; That was a significant shift. However, if he was selling out, he wasn't going to sell out cheap.
He asked, "What if I am attacked by the UN forces?"
"We'd be attacked as well, in that case."
"Yes, but what is my status?" he prompted.
"At that point, you are an engaged ally, and we'd do our best to defend you as well. Since we’d need the facilities for retreat and repair."
Jackson said, "I'll have my exec draft that as a formal agreement, if you don't mind, holding you to tenant status." He wanted his people drafting the agreement on his terms.
"Fair," the man agreed.
Yes, but . . . "And after the war, then what?"
"What do you want?"
"First refusal on docking rights for any Freehold flagged freighter."
The officer shook his head. "That would be impossible to enforce, given our legal system."
"What instead, then?"
The man said, "We can strongly recommend that our vessels use your services. If you've studied our culture, we're very big on social connections and support of friends."
"Well and good," Jackson said. "But I need something stronger than recommendations."
The man sat and thought for a moment, and Jackson let him. He looked around. The other personnel were still on alert, ready to react to orders. He figured this guy was the officer in charge of the project.
Finally, the man said, "I can guarantee ten years of baseline support of your operation at its present size. Expansion is up to you."
That did it. He was subsidized and beholden, but still independent. They hadn't taken, hadn't threatened, and hadn't tried to buy him out. They respected his sovereignty and circumstances.
First Minister Bates addressed the foreign officer officially. "Reluctantly, and under protest, I accept this pending signature, and offer you continued sanctuary, with the expectation that my people will be given proper treatment as both noncombatants and nonparticipants in our agreement."
"Then, sir," the man said, extending his hand, "you have my word as a Freehold officer."
He shook, and wasn't sure what to say next. He turned to Paul and said, "Whether we live or die, Paul, it will be here, in our home."