Van shivered. “And…you think this is…ethical?”
“No one is ever forced to take our services.” There was a pause. “Do you think the alternative is more ethical? The military or commercial takeover of system after system by out-system entities with greater resources.”
“Are you—is IIS the principal backer of the Nabatan Trust?”
Desoll grinned, almost sheepishly. “We ended up in a strange position there. We hold large minority positions in both the Candace Bank and the Nabatan Trust. That’s unusual. It’s only happened a handful of times, usually due to the local regulatory structure.”
Van shook his head.
Enough. We need to get to Behai, then to Perdya. You have the conn.
I have the conn. Van checked the fusactors, then the accumulators. Unless there’s something I’ve missed, I’ll bring the gravs on-line.
That’s fine.
Van brought up the artificial gee to ship-normal, a full gee for the Elsin. He continued to monitor the entire system as the Elsin proceeded in-system.
Again, he couldn’t dispute that Desoll was right about dealing with the Rev ship, which had been acting like a true pirate or renegade. Desoll was making the Revs pay for their actions. That was clear enough, and it was effective. Was it right?
What was right? Merely telling the Keshmarans and the rest of the Arm wouldn’t have stopped the Revs, and doing nothing and turning a blind eye avoided making a real choice. Still…Van couldn’t help wondering what he had gotten into and where it would lead.
Chapter 47
Perdya—the world that directed the Eco-Tech Coalition—had three orbit stations. One was strictly military. One was Eco-Tech commercial, and one was non-Eco-Tech. Non-Eco-Tech military vessels were allowed at the military orbit station—provided they were corvette-sized or smaller. Larger foreign military vessels were simply prohibited.
The Elsin locked in at orbit control two—the commercial station. An IIS maintenance crew was waiting, and a tug-tender was easing up to the IIS ship even as the crew of three left, with enough clothing for a week.
“Does this happen every time you dock here?” asked Van, as they walked the corridor of the station toward the down-shuttle terminal.
“Every time.” Desoll grinned, then explained. “It’s been almost a year. Nine months before that. Heavier work, that has to be handled at Aerolis.”
Van understood the torp strategy even better.
“We’ll have to stop at immigration control,” Desoll added. “Everything’s been taken care of, but they’ll need a parametric scan to put with the file.”
“Parametric scan?”
“Everyone who enters an Eco-Tech world gets scanned. If you’re not in the files, you’re detained until your situation is resolved.”
Immigration control was just after the end of the ship locks, before the shuttleports. Van glanced farther along the corridor.
“That’s right,” Desoll said. “There’s another control point on the other side of the station. Two-thirds for docking ships, one-third for shuttles, and you can’t get to the shuttleports without passing immigration. No one makes you stop, not until you get stopped at the lock screens and sent back.”
Van nodded as he followed Desoll to the first console—the one labeled SECURED EMPLOYMENT.
The older man extended a datacard. “I’m Trystin Desoll of IIS. Director Albert is our new senior director. The information is in here, and it should be on file.”
“Thank you, ser. I’ll need his datacard as well.”
Van stepped up and handed the woman his card.
She scanned both cards and waited. Then she nodded. “The employee bond is in order, Director Desoll.” She turned to Van. “Director Albert, you’ve been granted residence status in the Coalition for so long as you are an employee of Integrated Information Systems. If you remain an employee continuously for five years, you will be granted permanent residence status. If you terminate your employment before then, unless you find other approved employment, you must leave Coalition territory within six months, or be approved for some class of immigrant status.”
Van nodded.
“If you would step over here, to the scanner, please? Stand right in the blue box.”
Van followed her instructions. He didn’t see any equipment, but assumed it was in the overhead. His implant sensed the scanning. He tried not to frown, because, again, he thought that the protocols were almost elementary.
The woman placed his datacard in a reader of some sort, then waited. After a moment, she retrieved the card. “That should do it.” She handed Van back the datacard. “Your information is in the Coalition system. If the card is damaged or lost, you can go to almost any financial institution and have a replacement issued.” A pleasant smile followed. “Enjoy your stay on Perdya.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh…and you are in luck. The down-shuttle to Cambria will be loading in forty-three minutes.”
“Very organized,” Van said, as the three moved toward the shuttle.
“Organization doesn’t always solve the problems,” Desoll observed. “Sometimes, it just makes things worse because people equate it with understanding.”
“They think they understand, and feel they can deal with the problems because they’re organized.”
“Something like that.”
They only waited about twenty minutes before boarding began for the down-shuttle. Van sensed the scanning and comparison, and understood what Desoll had said. With only a little effort, he felt he could have used his improved implant to bypass the system and pass him through as green. The shuttle was only half-full, and the three of them had a row to themselves, Van and Desoll on one side and Eri on the other.
Once the
