Blood of the Cosmos (19 page)

The young man looked at the strange orange monstrosity. “But what about them?”

“Would you want to do business with
that
? They better have something indispensable to sell.”

“But we do. Everyone wants our ekti-X.”

Iswander hadn't expected his son to dispute such an obvious business lesson. “Even if someone can get away with being eccentric, there's no reason not to conduct business properly. We have to build and maintain our reputation. Too often, the clans have been reckless, unruly, and unreliable. Now that we're all part of the Confederation, I'd like to improve our standard practices.”

If he had been elected Speaker of the clans, Iswander could already have implemented that, but his fellow Roamers had shunned him because of an accident on Sheol.… As he looked at Newstation, he regretted that this place was not his seat of power now, that the clans had chosen a lackluster glad-hander over a true businessman.

They would learn their lesson soon enough. After seeing the uninspired leadership of Sam Ricks, they would realize their mistake, and Iswander was already rebuilding his reputation. He would have his chance; he knew it.

As he docked the yacht, paying for a VIP bay in the rotating torus, Arden looked out the windowport at the sparkling comet that orbited alongside the gigantic station. The comet was hollowed out, turned into a special school for the children of all Roamer clans. The boy was uneasy and would have preferred remaining behind at the extraction yard, being taught by the green priest. “Have we given up all hope that Aelin will get better and be my tutor again?”

“You need formal instruction, and I'm afraid the poor green priest is a lost cause,” Iswander said. “Academ is the right place for you at this point in your life.” He had made arrangements with Jess Tamblyn and Cesca Peroni to take Arden as a student, and they had done so without qualms.

“I got into fights last time defending you,” Arden mumbled.

So that was the reason for his reticence. Iswander had already made inquiries, even paid a premium for additional surveillance and security for his son, concerned that Arden might be a target for kidnapping. Other than that, he was sure Arden could handle himself.

“You're stronger than they are—you're an Iswander. Besides, our situation is quite different now, and they will recognize that. The Roamer clans need me again.”

After he landed inside the bay, station techs came forward to check the stardrive engines and to refuel, probably with his own ekti-X. He made a point of thanking them profusely, something he had learned from his campaign to become Speaker. He had relied on his impressive professional credentials rather than personal connections and friendships, and people often made important decisions based on illogical priorities. He would not make that error again. He would invest the effort to establish goodwill and personal contacts.

Now that he had great wealth from ekti-X, not only did he rent a VIP berth for his yacht, he sent out notices to the seventeen drinking establishments around Newstation and quietly paid every patron's bill for the next hour with a simple note, “Thank you for your business—Iswander Industries.”

He also still had the large database—delivered to him by a plague-stricken Orli Covitz—filled with clan Reeves medical records, farewell messages, and files on the Onthos race from the derelict space city. Knowing it would make an impact, he sent out feelers to see how much interest there might be in the information. Orli had wanted the information to be shared, and he would do so; but when the Roamers learned that there would be no salvage from the now-destroyed alien city, they weren't interested. Still, he made the overture.

Lee Iswander was ready to be treated as a well-respected member of the community. He had earned that consideration, after becoming a major supplier of stardrive fuel. Even though he had earned his new prominence, the clans still expected him to
buy
additional goodwill. Nevertheless, he took the time to make sure Arden watched and understood what he was doing, and why.

Iswander secured a lavish suite for the two of them, and when he learned that a clan business meeting was taking place in the convocation chamber, he told Arden to get changed. They both went to sit in the gallery—not asking to address the representatives, just to be seen and to listen.

The gathering was a casual affair, and clan representatives lounged in rows of seats that ran up the curved wall. Iswander identified the spot traditionally reserved for his clan, though the benches had remained unoccupied for some time. As he and Arden entered, the discussions quieted. Iswander felt the eyes looking at him and his son, but he stood straight-backed and drank it in.

Speaker Ricks sat back in an upholstered chair, wearing an embroidered family jumpsuit, chatting with two men who sat nearby while an earnest clan representative addressed the gathering. Ricks wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying.

Iswander listened, though. The clan representative had secured water rights on frozen moons and now requested a formal license to provide new pumping stations in several systems. “Within five years we can fill the gap created by the loss of the clan Tamblyn operations on Plumas.”

Several Roamers in the audience were paying close attention as well. One beefy woman objected to the water-rights proposal, but it soon became clear that she had no justifiable complaint, merely wanted to set up competing operations of her own. Sam Ricks granted the license without further discussion. Iswander didn't think the Speaker was being decisive, just that he had been bribed beforehand.

A squall of requests for the podium came in, and clan members—all of them traditional ekti skyminers—stepped forward, wanting to speak their piece. Iswander wasn't surprised they would form a voting block against him, but there was really nothing they could do to stop his work.

“Since Lee Iswander has graced us with his presence, he can answer questions,” said Aaron Duquesne, an annoyed-looking son of a clan that had two skymines on Belliros. “He's been flaunting his ekti-X, and his reckless actions are throwing the clans into turmoil, forcing some of us into bankruptcy. Our skymines can't compete with his ekti-X. Nobody can.”

Duquesne glowered at him, but Iswander remained seated in the gallery, responding only with a cool smile. “And you would like … what exactly? For me to apologize because I'm successful? Because I'm selling stardrive fuel for a lower price than you do? I don't hear any complaints from the customers.”

“We want regulations and tariffs on ekti-X, subsidies for those of us who have invested fortunes in cloud-harvesting operations. It's a hazardous business. We've taken the risks.”

Six representatives from other traditional skymining clans agreed. One even commented loudly and sarcastically, “You're just like the Big Goose! We don't want businessmen like that.”

Another grumbled, “You've forgotten that you're a Roamer, Lee Iswander.”

Now Iswander rose to his feet and placed a paternal hand on Arden's shoulder. He spoke calmly but loudly. “Excuse me? I thought this was a
Roamer
clan gathering, not a nursery full of whining children.” He held the silence for a moment, remembering when blustery Olaf Reeves had heaped scorn on Iswander Industries for their business practices and then complained about how the clans had become tainted. Well, that old fool and his clan had all died alone out in space; Iswander had the database and the farewell messages to prove it.

He continued, “Roamers have learned how to survive in the harshest environments. We pride ourselves on our ability to find miraculous solutions under the direst of conditions. We take risks. We innovate. We refuse to believe that something cannot be done simply because it's never been done before.”

He gave them all a withering glare. “Who has forgotten how to be a Roamer? Iswander Industries made gigantic investments and took huge risks, again and again—some of them worked, and some of them didn't. Now, because I've discovered a profitable new way to harvest ekti, you want to take that from me? You want the Confederation to hold your hand and level the playing field so you don't have to innovate?”

Arden rose to his feet to stand firmly at his side, making him proud. The clan members were listening, but as he studied their expressions, he still felt that they didn't respect him, that they considered him an outsider—and that made him angrier still. He placed Arden in front of him. “I brought my son here to be trained at Academ, but you make me wonder what the Roamers will teach him. Have the clans lost their against-all-odds attitude? Have you lost your vision?”

He sniffed, then continued. “Yes, I'm selling a lot of stardrive fuel, and I am making more profits than your outdated and inefficient operations—
because I figured out a better way to do it
. I lost everything on Sheol, as you damn well know! But I followed my Guiding Star.” He shook his head. “If you can't deal with hardships, tough competition, and difficult problems, then you're not Roamers at all.” He looked directly at Aaron Duquesne. “If you want to sell more ekti,
innovate
! Come up with a new way.” He nudged his son, and the two of them headed out of the chamber. “Like I did.”

 

CHAPTER

28

DEL KELLUM

Del was going to miss his spunky granddaughter, and he had even grown fond of the studious Howard Rohandas. More important, he envied them their opportunity to study at Fireheart Station. The energy-membrane farms, the exotic-materials harvesting, the power-block manufacture—that was the epitome of what Roamers had once been.

After they got settled in the central Fireheart complex tucked in a quiet backwater of the roaring nebula gases, Del called the station manager. As a former Speaker of the clans, Del knew everyone, and Station Chief Beren Alu still owed him a few favors. Del hoped the man remembered that.

Del took Shareen and Howard up to deck six to find the manager, only to discover that Alu's office was dark and cluttered, apparently dedicated to storage more than administration.

“Doesn't look like he ever even uses his office,” said Shareen. “What kind of manager is that?”

Del hooked his thumbs at his waist. “Take it as a good sign, by damn. That means he's out doing productive work, rather than playing with red tape.”

A small skinny man in his mid-fifties moved briskly down the metal-walled corridor. He had shoulder-length hair and a drooping gray mustache that resembled a pair of rodent tails on either side of his mouth. Though he looked harried, Beren Alu managed a grin. “Del Kellum, I hear you brought me a pair of competent employees who'll work for free!”

“You're in charge of getting your own workers, Beren. My granddaughter and her friend want to serve as apprentices to Kotto.”

“Everyone wants to serve as apprentices to Kotto, but he hasn't accepted anybody before.”

“We'll be good workers,” Shareen said. “Best he's ever seen.”

“And we do appreciate the opportunity, sir,” Howard added. “We'll earn our keep.”

“Oh, it's not that,” Alu said. “Kotto's just a terrible manager, doesn't know what to do with help. He dabbles by himself.”

Del patted Shareen on her shoulder. “You two will have to be independent, prove yourselves to Kotto.”

“We will, sir,” said Howard. “I'm sure Kotto Okiah must have some busywork for us to do.”

Alu tossed an unidentifiable wrapped packet onto the desk clutter, which slid and toppled to the deck. He didn't seem to care where it landed. “Come with me. Kotto's doing an orientation lecture for a group of visiting Ildiran scientists. They want to see the keystone stars and the nebula light. It's some religious thing for them.”

Del put his beefy hands against Shareen's and Howard's backs. “Let's go, then. Make a good impression.”

The skinny station chief guided them down to a docking ring suspended beneath the headquarters complex. Next to an inspection ship, twenty Ildiran scientists stood in a group, all wearing similar alien clothing. An uneasy-looking man in his sixties with tousled hair and squinting eyes—Kotto Okiah—paced as a holographic projection played in the air. It was a standard PR orientation loop in which a well-dressed Beren Alu gave a presentation.

“Here at Fireheart Station, we survive and profit from the worst the universe throws against us. We are Roamers. Our clan history is fraught with accidents and tragedies, as well as daring successes. Turmoil? Hardship? We'll catch it and throw it back in their faces. Fireheart Station epitomizes the Roamer mindset. It is a place where we manufacture and also conduct research. It's a place where we work miracles. Thank you.” Alu's face dissipated as the projection ended.

Kotto Okiah gestured at the air, as if glad he didn't have to deliver the basic speech himself. “Well, that gives you the background about this place, though I suspect you already knew most of it. Our most important current project is the Big Ring, my gigantic physics experiment that will reveal fundamental details about the very fabric of space-time itself. We've been building it for five years, but we're reaching the final stages now. So much to do!”

Without waiting for Station Chief Alu to introduce them, Del came forward, extending his hand. “And I've brought two people who can help you out, Kotto. All that work you couldn't get finished, all those prototype projects—here's the brainpower you need.”

The scientist took a moment to recognize him. “Del Kellum! I didn't know you were coming here.”

“You should have received my request.” Del gave a quick sidelong look to Alu, who shrugged. “My granddaughter and her friend are here as your new lab assistants. Geniuses in training, by damn. Put them to work.”

Kotto looked around as if harried. “Sorry, I didn't get any request … or maybe the message is still in my inbox.” He pointed to two compies who stood at the side of the inspection ship. “But I already have assistants. KR and GU have helped me for years.”