Settlement One, long a thorn in the side of all other settlements on Hobb’s Land, had begun to fester. Now even the children were talking. The defeated teams returning from the last game with Settlement One had been rife with rivalry, rumor, and rebellion. Settlement One didn’t play fair, so ran the tale. Settlement One ought to be excluded from the games. Dracun Soames had brought this version straight from the lips of her son, Vernor. More worryingly, it had been accompanied by threats from Jamel and Vernor’s other uncles. They would, by damn, see fair play, they said, seeing no irony in this claim despite the fact that they themselves were well-known to strike the unwary and the unprepared without warning and from behind when they thought they could get away with it. Fair play was not what they had in mind. Settlement Three had had two homicides since the Soameses had been settlers, people bashed from behind, people Jamel had had words with. Harribon had always been sure it was Jamel, though he had been unable to prove it.
Early in the day, before the fight had started, Harribon had directed his home stage to print compilations of inter-settlement sports standings from the Archives, though he hadn’t had a chance to look at them until now. He ran a horny thumb down the standings, adding mentally. Settlement One had won about half their games. Seldom by much. They had lost about half. Seldom by much. They had stayed consistently in the middle most years. Twice in thirty-two years they had won the series. Three times in thirty-two years they had come in second. As they might have done by chance, all else being equal. Of course, all else was never equal, so the one-in-eleven win was, in itself, interesting.
More interesting was the fact they had never been at the bottom of the list. Never. Neither had Four. Not in the thirty-two years the games had been played. So, to that extent, people were right. Though Settlement One didn’t win top place any oftener than they should, they did not lose as often as some.
Harribon stared at the wall, wondering what that meant. If it meant anything. Someone settling onto a chair across from him broke his concentration.
“Dracun,” he murmured to the woman who was perched there like some great flying lizard, ready to dart off at any moment. She had come in without knocking. Her narrow face was drawn into harsh lines.
“What’s this about Jamel?”
“I told him to leave, Dracun.”
“I’ll go with him. We’ll all go.” It was a threat.
He sighed. “I knew you might when I told him to go, Dracun. I guess that should tell you something.”
She flushed. “He’s that bad, huh?”
“He’s that bad. It’s gone past what we can tolerate. Now you and your other brothers are welcome to stay, if you like. Without Jamel stirring things up, the other Soameses are only a little more belligerent than ordinary people.” He was trying to make a joke of it.
She chose to change the subject. “You said you were going to check about what Vernor said today. About Settlement One cheating. I suppose you’re going to tell me the fight put it out of your mind.”
“I did check,” he snapped, annoyed by her tone. “I had the listings printed here, so I’d have time to look at them. And if anything could have put it out of my mind, Dracun, it was the fact my momma is dying, which is happening only once. Thanks to your brothers, fights we have every day. Almost.”
She had the grace to look ashamed, but it didn’t prevent her asking, “Well?”
He tossed the compilation to her, pointed out the figures that were pertinent, waited while she read them for herself.
Her glare turned into a frown. “Are these accurate?”
He furrowed his low brow into three distinct horizontal convexities, pulled his stocky form out of the chair, and stalked to the window to stand staring out at his settlement. “That’s the way Archives gave it to me.”
“What about the production figures.”
“Well, yes. They’ve been consistently on top in production and at the bottom in disruptions. Considering how much time you and I spent today, sorting out who said what and who did what and who broke who’s arm, I think the two are intimately related.”
“That’s possible,” she admitted.
“Dracun, your son was wrong, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something to … well, to the impression he had. Why would Settlement One have no conflict?” He rubbed his face, feeling the scratch of his beard on his fingertips. “It isn’t natural, is it? I don’t know quite how to put that question to the Archives.”
She thought, rising to stalk about the room, settling again to say, “Religion, maybe? I mean, it can’t be genetics, can it? There’s been movement of population. Kids have grown up and moved from one settlement to another. People have moved up to management. People have given up their land credits and moved away. Other people have applied for vacant places, some Belt worlders, some System people. Haven’t they?”
Harribon paused for some time before he answered. “That’s all true, here, in Settlement Three.”
“And there? In Settlement One? Have they had people coming and going, too?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask.”
“Will you find out soon?”
“Yes. I’ll find out soon. And, Dracun? Let me know if the whole Soames family is going to go with Jamel.”
She shook her head. “No. We won’t. You’re right. He’s too much, even for us. Better he go somewhere else. Celphius, maybe. Become a prospector.”
He smiled, relieved. So. He offered her a sop. “Maybe I should plan to take a trip over to Settlement One sometime soon, just to
