The Reaches

Stephen looked at him in amazement.

'Well, my job's communications, Stephen,' Jeremy said with a tinge of embarrassment. 'I don't spy on my friends, but if I hear something, I. .'

Stephen nodded and turned his head again. 'She's a good person, Jeremy. Too good a person to-'

He looked at the table and didn't slam his fist against it after all. Throwing the bottle had reminded him that he didn't dare blame things outside himself for problems that were solely in his mind.

'You know what I'm like, Jeremy,' he said. 'It's not fair to use a decent person to keep from. . Anyway, there's slash. Sal and I own a ship together, but there's no need for us to meet. I'd decided that before Winnipeg.'

Stephen attempted a smile, decided it worked, and faced his friend again.

'Stephen,' Jeremy said softly. 'It's none of my business, but listen anyway. She's not a thing, she's a person. If she's willing, then don't keep away from her for her sake. That's her choice. All the liquor does is put another shovel of dirt on what's down there. There's not enough liquor in all the world to keep it down forever, so you may as well have a woman help you face it.'

Jeremy laughed suddenly. He wiped his sweaty palm on a handkerchief he snaked from the opening in his jacket that held his left forearm, withered by a Federation bullet in the shoulder joint. 'Women are,' he said in a light tone, 'one of my areas of expertise.'

Stephen sighed. 'Oh, I'll be all right, Jeremy,' he said. 'Seeing an old friend. .'

He paused. 'You give me hope, Jeremy. Maybe that's what I'm really afraid of. Hope.'

'We'd best get back upstairs,' Jeremy said. 'Making our principals look important is part of the job too, after all.'

He swallowed, touched his tongue to his lips, and said, 'Stephen? Do you think Piet really will need boarding crews when the Feds come this time?'

Stephen shrugged. Jeremy gripped the bigger man's arm and turned him so that they were face to face. 'Tell me. Stephen,' he said.

'Not as much as Venus needs heroes on the ground here, Jeremy,' Stephen said. 'War's easy. You know that. Making life worth something-that's a lot harder.'

Factor Moore of Rhadicund nodded and opened the door to the excited bustle of the Blue Rose Tavern.

BETAPORT, VENUS

July 19, Year 27

1351 hours, Venus time

Hergesheimer Dock was one of Betaport's oldest storage docks. The vessel nearest the entrance was dollied up for movement but the tractor operator, the ship's officers, and an official or two representing the dock were arguing beside the tractor. Everyone involved shouted at the top of his voice, but the volume drank all but a susurrus of echoes.

'There we go,' Sal said. 'Cradle Eight, not Cradle Three. I got out in the transfer dock when we brought her from Ishtar City, and handwriting isn't Harrigan's strong suit. The Clarence, formerly the Maid of Bellemont, formerly the Grace. Not a new ship, but I've gone up and down in her and she's well-found at the core.'

Stephen crossed his hands behind the small of his back and wondered what it was he was supposed to be seeing in the utterly nondescript vessel before them. From any distance the Clarence could have passed as a twin to the Gallant Sallie.

Sal had asked Stephen to come here with her. He'd been planning to see her ever since he talked to Jeremy Moore, but he hadn't been sure how he was going to make the contact.

He didn't have a clue as to why Sal had brought him here, though.

'The main thing was that she could be had for a song,' Sal continued. 'The widow wasn't interested in keeping anything that reminded her of her husband-he died in a brothel, not a shipping accident-and the electronics were going to have to be replaced. That doesn't matter for our purposes, of course.'

'You bought her?' Stephen said, a light dawning. Sal needed a loan to-

'You bought her,' Sal said crisply. 'To be precise, I bought her on your behalf, using the commercial letter of credit with which you'd provided me.'

Stephen grew very still. 'The letter of credit was to cover trading opportunities for the Gallant Sallie at times when I was unavailable,' he said without affect.

'Was it?' Sal said, her chin sticking out in determination. 'That's not what the document says. You can rescind it, but the purchase transaction is valid.'

'I accept that,' said Stephen. He hadn't seen Sarah Blythe in person since the squadron lifted from Winnipeg. . 'Go on.'

'I have a list of captains who I think will work the Clarence for quarter shares,' Sal said. 'That's after you upgrade the electronics to Gallant Sallie standards, of course. They're all solid men, but I haven't discussed the matter in case you might have a personal problem with one of them.'

She handed Stephen a list printed on flimsy paper. He crumpled it into his palm. 'I don't have personal problems with people,' he said. He smiled like black ice over lava. 'Not long term.'

Sal nodded, her face tightly emotionless. 'Actually, I think you'll be able to hire-take as partners-all six of them before too long. There are a lot of ships like the Clarence, like the Gallant Sallie was. They need upgrades. Most people haven't appreciated that the expansion of trade going on right now makes it cost-effective to upgrade even hulls as old as these.'

'Sal,' Stephen said, 'if I wanted to be in the shipping business, I'd be managing Weyston Trading for my uncle right now. I-'

'No!' Sal said. She turned abruptly away and wiped her eyes. 'No, Stephen,' she said. 'Weyston Trading's an established intrasystem operation. I could run it, Tom Harrigan could run it. What Venus needs-'

She looked at Stephen fiercely again, pretending to ignore the tears on her cheeks. 'What Venus needs is trade, real trade, to Near Space and the Reaches. That's going to take somebody with imagination to lead the way, to show other people how much profit there is to be made there. Everybody will gain.'

'I'm not-' Stephen said.

'You are!' Sal said. 'You owe it to Venus and you owe it to yourself!'

Stephen looked at her for some moments without speaking. At last he said, 'A strictly business operation, I take it?'

She blinked. 'Of course.'

He nodded. 'All right,' he said. 'We'll incorporate as Blythe Spirits. You'll be managing director with a fifty percent share of the profits. Oh, and put yourself down for a five percent finder's fee on ships bought for the corporation.'

'I-' Sal said. 'That isn't. .'

Stephen smoothed the piece of flimsy so that he could read the names. He squinted. The illumination of Hergesheimer Dock had been marginal even when twice as many of the overhead lights worked. 'Tell me about Captain Lou Montrose,' he said.

'Stephen, I'm not a manager,' Sal whispered.

'We're all learning new things, aren't we?' Stephen Gregg replied with a crooked smile. 'We owe it to Venus or some such thing, I'm told.'

Looking toward the flimsy, he went on, 'What are you doing for dinner tonight?'

The tractor operator finally put his vehicle into gear. The joints of the dolly clanged, echoing through the dock like the bells of a great temple.

BETAPORT, VENUS

September 24, Year 27

2122 hours, Venus time