serve?'
Prinsloo was worthy of his calling. Without hesitation he said, 'Mukerjee has earned the right.'
The right, the duty and the chance to sit and rest while his body healed.
Vargas was annoyed. Nadine heard the deep rumble of his voice as she entered the workshop, a blast of anger which sent echoes from the roof.
'Fool! You've exceeded the tolerances by three hundred percent! Do it again and I'll have you flogged!'
He came into sight as she passed the bulk of a machine, big, his apron soiled, arms and torso bared. The worker standing before him was young, banded with the collar of his servitude. He sidled away as Nadine approached, cradling a piece of equipment in his arms.
As he vanished from sight she said, 'I assume you've checked the instruments he's using. It's possible they could be at fault.'
'What?' Vargas snarled, still dominated by his anger. 'Damn it, woman, I know my business. If the fault is his he goes, but first he'll be flogged and branded.'
'That will lower his value.'
'As an engineer he won't have any.' His tone warned her not to argue further. 'Now, aside from telling me how to run my workshops, what do you want?' He pursed his lips as she told him. 'Materials for construction? Sure, I'll have them delivered. Council charge?'
'Jumay's.' She added, quickly, 'Mel Jumay is responsible for the damage. It includes that done to the church. He and his family should pay for it.'
'Do they agree?' Vargas frowned as she made no answer. 'They won't like it. Suke is touchy about such things and he has no time for the monks. I can't blame him. Always whining, begging, trying to change things. They should be kicked off the planet. They should never have been allowed to come here. They don't belong.'
An opinion she had heard before. Patiently she said, 'You could be right, but see the materials are delivered as soon as you can. If we don't need the monks we need the ganni.'
Some worked among the machines, sweeping, dusting, stepping aside as she left the workshop busy with her thoughts. Had the young engineer been genuinely careless or had he attempted sabotage? Producing a component holding a subtle flaw which would cause it to fail at a critical time. It was possible; none forced to wear the collar could be expected to love those who had put it there, but how to prove it? A man daring enough to commit sabotage would have the intelligence to alter the calibration of his instruments so as to appear innocent.
'Nadine!' A young man came running towards her. Nigel Myer, face flushed from recent exertion, sweat running over his naked torso. Behind him, on the exercise ground, other young men struck and weaved in simulated combat. 'A moment. Please!'
She waited, knowing what he wanted, pretending ignorance as he fought to regain his breath.
'I heard what happened in the town. I'm sorry.'
'Did you have a part in it?'
'I was with the crowd,' he admitted, 'but I had nothing to do with the fire. If there is anything I can do to help?' He paused, waiting for the expected rejection of the empty offer. One not meant and made as the part of a calculated design. 'Nadine?'
She said, knowing his answer. 'You could help with the construction.'
'I'd like to but I can't. I'm hoping to get a place with Toibin,' he explained. 'I'll have to be in top condition when he makes his decision. It's important that I make his crew. I need action!'
And wanted her to speak for him. She could sympathize with his need. A man without reputation had little chance of selection and needed all the help he could get. Without it he would be lucky to be picked at all even if willing to take a minimum share or no share at all in order to gain experience.
'I'll do what I can,' she promised. 'But don't build up your hopes. Your best chance is to catch Toibin's eye. Draw his attention in some way. Do something spectacular.' She anticipated his question. 'I can't tell you what, Leese Toibin has his own standards, but I can tell you this – he won't look kindly on a man who needs a woman to speak for him.'
Something he should have known and the fact that he had appealed to her for help showed him to have more ambition than capability. Kaldar had too many of his type.
Her office was cool, shadowed, a haven to which she clung. Later, when darkness came, the air would lose its heat and winds blow from the hills carrying the scent of chard, kren, emulish, the subtle magic of peedham. Stars would blaze in the fading lavender of the sky and all would be at peace.
Odd thoughts and disturbing. She was far from senile and only the old dreamed of endless tranquillity. Irritably she shook her head, reaching for papers, halting the motion as the communicator glowed to life.
'Nadine?' It was Jessie from communication. She continued as Nadine acknowledged. 'Messages from Chapman and Lochner. Chapman wants to know if a final assessment has been made of the peedham he sent in. Lochner said to call him. He's having trouble of some kind.'
'Serious?'
'Isn't it always?'
'Always,' admitted Nadine. To the man even a broken sprocket was tantamount to the end of creation. She forced herself to be patient. Jessie loved to play her little games. 'Can you give me a clue?'
'I heard a rumor from someone who knows his engineer. My guess is that he wants Council backing in order to buy a new generator.
Nadine reached for the computer as the screen died. Lochner's ship had a record of unreliability. Too many minor breakdowns leading to aborted raids and dissatisfied crews. He had coasted on past success, but now his credit was exhausted which meant he would have to make do with what he had and rely on the young and inexperienced to crew his vessel. Any loot he might gain was already spoken for and generators didn't come cheap.
A bad risk. He would appeal to the Council against her summation, but they were men of business. In the end Lochner would lose his ship, his standing and, if he chose to quarrel with the wrong man, his life.
New data replaced the old. Chapman was in a different category. He had taken up farming after taking a bad wound and grew peedham in hydroponic vats. His crops were uniformly good and his credit was high. The latest assessment would provide a rich bonus. One he might be interested in investing. It would do no harm to let him know of the opportunity presented by Lochner's situation. If interested they could make a deal. Lochner would have his new generator, Chapman a share in his vessel and the Council would not be involved.
She might even avoid making a new enemy.
Leaning back she looked at the charts decorating the walls, the portrait facing her. That of a man, hair shaped to form a dark helmet over the contours of his skull, the eyes deep-set, meshed with lines, the mouth, smiling now, holding a hard resolution. Her father. A man she had never known.
What would he have made of her?
Something she would never know. How to tell how she would have developed under his parental influence? How she would have grown had her mother not chosen to follow him into oblivion? Why had she done that? For love, they had told her, but how could she have been so selfish? Tradition, honor, custom, loyalty – what value did such things have when set against the needs of a helpless child?
She felt pain and looked to where her nails dug into her palms. They drove deeper as she watched, blood welling from the small punctures, the sight feeding her impulse to destructive violence. To hurt! To destroy! To kill!
To smash the bars of her prison and to be free!
Chapter Six
There should have been castles, strongholds, towers flaunting banners filled with armed and armored men jealous of their pride. Products of a world devoted to the pursuit of adventure, battle, violence and sudden death. One governed by the worship of personal bravery, courage and respect. The stuff of romance Zehava had learned as a child. A dream which Kaldar had never fulfilled.
Pausing on the ramp Dumarest recognized a dead-end world. One of a type on which travelers feared to be stranded. A planet with few opportunities to earn money for food, shelter, a passage to freedom. One which held odd inconsistencies. The field was uneven, the buildings edging it dilapidated, the ships standing to one side rested in a litter of debris. Yet the guard pylons were thick and widely scattered. The lack of a fence was unusual but no
