The faster and more widely this “gospel of greed” is adopted, the more quickly a society loses any ethical foundation—and the more rapidly it sows the seeds of its own destruction….
Values, Ethics, and Society
Exton Land
New Oisin, Tara
1117 S.E.
Chapter 58
Van straightened in the command couch, again checking the EDIs and the monitors, as the Joyau came out of jump from Winokur, after a quick delivery of the promised formulator templates. Korkenny system looked normal—no foreign warships, no extra RSF ships, just a set of corvettes, one in stand-down, and two planetary patrollers in high orbit off Korkenny itself.
Finally, after an eight-hour in-transit, during which he half dozed, he initiated contact. Korkenny orbit control, Coalition ship Joyau, requesting approach and lock assignment.
Coalition ship, say again.
Orbit control, this is Coalition ship Joyau, requesting approach and lock assignment. Parameters follow. Van pulsed off the mass and dimensional parameters, then waited as the Joyau eased toward the orbit control station.
Coalition ship Joyau, you are cleared to charlie three. Request anticipated duration of lock usage. Request Galstan guarantee this time.
Orbit control, anticipate four days, five possible, guarantee follows.
Guarantee received. Interrogative sleds for unloading.
No sleds required until departure, control. Will request later. Van wouldn’t need cargo sleds at all, but he wanted to create the impression that the Joyau would be waiting for cargo.
In the end, he’d compromised, bringing the Joyau in under its Coalition registry, but using his Argenti identity, Viano Alberto. The identity was real, and any cross-check would show Viano Alberto as a resident alien in Silvium, employed by IIS as a director. If someone on Korkenny happened to be looking hard for Van Cassius Albert, they’d eventually wonder. But there was no reason to believe that anyone at all except the RSF cared where Van was. He had to believe that Marshal Eamon and Sub-marshal Vickry hadn’t turned the Republic into a complete police system yet, if indeed that was their intent, although Van wasn’t inclined to be charitable on that point.
He eased the Joyau into position at charlie three, then gave the signal for the dampers to engage. Control, Joyau locked in charlie three, depowering and linking this time.
Cleared for station power, Joyau.
Van ran through the locking and standby checklist. Then he unfastened his harness and stood.
“Ser?” asked Eri from the second couch.
Van nodded to the tech.
“You’re going to want me to watch the ship.” That was a statement.
“Absolutely. I may come flying back here as well. With the political upheaval in the Republic, anything could happen. Including nothing.”
“That would be best.” Eri’s tone indicated the improbability of that possibility.
Van laughed. “All we can do is see.” He slipped back to his stateroom and used the equipment there to link into the stationnet. The next down-shuttle to Watford was in three hours, but that would have landed him at four in the morning local time. The next one was eight hours later, and he booked a slot on it. Then he began a search of local political and economic news.
There was little of either. Rather, there was a great volume of stories that revealed little.
Quake Rocks Neatbrooke…
PM Eamon Cites Rising Productivity…
Korkenny Best Republic World for Health…
Eamon Urges Public Service Careers for Grads…
Nelson Kidnapper Found…
Business Indicators Surge After ES Restrictions Loosened…
That headline caught Van’s eye, but the details were sketchy, just saying, in effect, that the acting prime minister had lifted the most onerous of the economic security restrictions two weeks earlier, and that already business indicators were showing great improvement and a return to near-normal patterns. Van had to wonder, especially since none of the stories he could call up gave much more in the way of details.
After two hours of searching, nearly fruitlessly, Van stopped, fixed a meal for the two of them, and after eating and cleaning up the galley, called it a day and went to bed. He got the first uninterrupted sleep in days, sleeping so long that he had to hurry to get dressed and make the down-shuttle.
He did not reach Watford until past midday, local time, and was fortunate at that. At times, ship time ended up being not at all in synch with planetary time—or destination time. He had a reservation at the Watford Mark, in the name of Viano Alberto, because he doubted that he’d finish what he needed in one short afternoon, and he carried a small overnight case. A groundcar for hire delivered him to a modest structure in the financial area on the west side of Watford. From the buildings alone, similar but not identical, and with few frills, he would have judged that it was a commercial or financial area. IIS was on the second floor, up a curving ramp carpeted in a gold that had seen better days.
He stepped inside the office.
“Ser?” asked the older woman at the plain console.
Van handed across the IIS datacard. “Senior Director Albert to see Director Henry.” He didn’t like using his real identity, but it would have revealed even more not to.
The expression of skepticism vanished as she looked at the screen readout. “Yes, ser. Just a moment.” She stood and walked to a closed door, which opened to admit her.
Van studied the outer office, empty except for him. A plant, a semifern, stood in the corner by the window, drooping for lack of water, and the waiting area looked untouched, but dusty.
“Director Albert?”
Van turned.
“Director Henry will see you.”
Van almost bridled at that. Director Henry had better see him. He smiled. “Thank you.”
