Island in a Sea of Stars (8 page)

“Would you like me to bring lunch?” she asked. “I can make your favorite.”

He wondered what she thought his favorite was. In fact, Iswander didn't even know he had a favorite, but it would give her something to do. “That sounds nice. I have to go soon, though. The election…”

As Londa bustled off, Iswander felt metal jaws of guilt gnawing at his stomach. He tried to think of what he would say at the clan gathering, what excuses he might use, whether he should be defiant or defeated, whether to beg for understanding and forgiveness. A second chance.

They saw him as a powerful Roamer industrialist, one of the wealthiest people in the Confederation. He knew most of the clan heads, but not well enough to consider them friends. He couldn't say how they would react. Many had made their fortunes operating huge skymines that harvested ekti in gas giants. Stardrive fuel was hard to obtain, expensive to produce, but the demand made the effort and investment worthwhile. The disgraced Iswander Industries, though, would never be able to secure funding for even such a traditional, stable business venture. Nor would he ever find large crews to work for him.

He stared at the list of all those unfamiliar names, all the people who had burned on Sheol.
1,543
.

He could think of absolutely nothing he might say.

The door slid open and his son burst in, eyes wild. Arden was fuming rather than sobbing; his face was flushed with emotion, and he sported several fresh scuffs and bruises.

Iswander rose to his feet. Arden whirled as if ready to throw a punch, then his shoulders sagged. His voice hitched. “They hate you! They called you … they said—”

Iswander faced his son. His hands remained at his sides. “I don't care what they say. They weren't there. They don't know.”

Arden looked up to him, even though they rarely spent any close time together. Once in a while, Iswander would give him encouraging talks. He checked on the young man's grades, emphasized how important it was that he become educated, intelligent, and the best he could be, because Arden would run Iswander Industries someday. He felt a knife twist in his heart at that thought.

Arden continued to tremble with rage or with shame. “They said all those people died because you're not a real Roamer, that you've forgotten our ways. That the facility failed because you cut costs and increased profits.”

Iswander quelled his angry retort and calmly pointed out, “And yet when I first announced the Sheol operations, they applied by the hundreds to work there. They were excited to sign up for profit participation. Roamers know that life is hard and dangerous on the edge.”

Arden burst out, “It's not your fault!” But Iswander knew that it was his fault, at least in part.

They couldn't stay here at Newstation. The more visible he remained, the louder the recriminations would be. Better to lie low, find a place to be quiet and out of sight until the most intense anger died away. He decided he would take them back to Sheol, settle in one of the orbiting transfer stations that had quarters, food, life support—until he figured out what to do next.

But he had to stay for the vote. He felt obligated to face that, at least.

Londa came back into the room carrying a tray of food, noticed Arden's tears and his flushed face, and her mouth dropped open. “What's wrong? What happened?”

Iswander thought it was ridiculous that she couldn't guess. He mildly said, “Look, your mother brought you lunch. She'll take care of you.” He glanced at the clock as if it marked the hour of his execution. “I need to go. The clan gathering is scheduled soon, and I don't want to be late for the voting.”

*   *   *

Lee Iswander entered the speaking chamber, arriving exactly on time, on purpose. He didn't want to have to stand there as a specimen any longer than was absolutely necessary. Low conversation hummed from the filled seats, and he heard a distinct change in tone as he showed himself. No, he would not get a sympathy vote.

He wore his best business suit and a veneer of all the pride he could manage, but it did not run deep. He reminded himself that he was one of the greatest Roamer industrialists in recent history, but he felt very small.
1,543
.

Because he and Sam Ricks were the two candidates for Speaker, by tradition they would stand at the heart of the assembly area while the audience voted. It made Iswander feel naked to have so many eyes turned toward him, but it gave him a well-defined place to be, rather than sitting among the clan representatives. He wouldn't have to risk an awkward moment when others got up and changed seats rather than be near him.

I will get through this.
He made a point of recalling his earlier accomplishments that any Roamer would applaud. But those were eclipsed by one incident. He silently wished Elisa Reeves were there at his side, but she was gone too.

I will get through this.

His rival, Sam Ricks, chatted with several companions, walking along the lowest row of seats, waving to clan members. He seemed energetic and confident, much more alive than he'd been in their prior debate.
And why not?
Iswander felt a distinct chill in the room, and it was directed toward him.

Speaker Isha Seward took her place at the elevated podium and decided it was time to get down to business, regardless of what the clock said. “We're all here. Let's wrap up this election so I can retire.” At any other time attendees would have chuckled, but now there was too much tension in the air. “The candidates have agreed not to make any final statements. Or have you changed your mind, Mr. Iswander?”

She glanced at him. He had thought long and hard on it, but gave a quick shake of his head.

For the sake of formality, she called upon Sam Ricks to cast the first vote, for himself, of course. Then she turned to Iswander, who cast his vote, and the chamber was filled with an immensity of silence before Speaker Seward called upon all the other clan heads.

His was the only vote he received.

Iswander stood listening to one member after another say the name of Sam Ricks, most of them with little enthusiasm. He endured. In his heavy chest, though, this disgrace felt as spectacular as the disaster on Sheol.

14

ELISA REEVES

When her damaged ship finally limped back to Sheol, Elisa found that her entire world had collapsed—for the second time in as many weeks.

She had spent four days alone in space at the site of the exploded bloaters, working on her ship, rerouting the damaged systems to bypass any that were not absolutely vital. And she did it herself.

Garrison had always been arrogantly proud of Roamer ingenuity; he bragged about how his people could take the most unlikely hodgepodge of components and make them work like magic.

Lee Iswander was also a Roamer, but instead of relying on his pilots being able to make duct-tape-and-twine repairs, Iswander Industries simply provided adequate spare parts in each ship, in case anything should fail. Elisa had swapped out life-support modules, navigation circuits, and damaged engine controls. Eventually, her ship was ready to fly again.…

During the flight, she pondered and rehearsed exactly how she was going to report what had happened. Her mission had not turned out the way she'd expected, but at least she wasn't returning empty handed—thanks to her intrepid investigations. She couldn't wait to tell Lee Iswander what she had found.

She didn't want his pity for the tragic death of her son as well as, she supposed, her husband. But once he learned what else she had discovered, Iswander would surely promote her (after acknowledging the painful loss of her family). It was worth an incalculable fortune.

When she arrived at Sheol, the binary planet looked like a glowing ember in space, cracked and bleeding with lava. The lack of space traffic surprised her. Her comm system carried none of the constant chatter of cargo ships hauling exotic metal-polymer materials or straightforward shipments of ingots. She surfed the channels, expecting to hear the usual drone of conversation from smelter barge crews and the control towers, even Alec Pannebaker showing off some stupid stunt.

She transmitted her queries, trying to find someone who would answer, and finally received a reply—but the transmission did not come from the admin tower down on the fiery surface. Rather, the response emanated from a small satellite station in orbit that received bulk shipments and transferred supplies.

“Elisa, you came back!” It was Lee Iswander's voice. She couldn't believe he would be manning the comm himself. “Did you retrieve your son?”

“No,” she answered in a clipped voice. “He … he's dead. Garrison took him into a hazardous situation. He was reckless. He … they were both lost in a massive explosion.”

Iswander groaned and said something that didn't seem directed toward her. “Aren't fifteen hundred and forty-three deaths enough?”

Elisa felt a sudden chill. “What happened? Where is everyone on Sheol?” By now, she had expected Lee Iswander to be the Speaker for the Roamer clans.

“Everything happened. The facilities are gone. Hundreds dead—fifteen hundred and forty-three. The survivors are at Newstation, but I … I had to come back here, see if I could salvage anything. It seemed the best place.”

Elisa's head was ready to explode with questions, but she quelled them. “I'm docking soon. You can tell me everything then—face to face.”

She guided her ship into the orbiting transfer station, which was mostly empty. Hers was one of only four ships in the bay; half of the lights had been dimmed.

She carried a data-transfer file that held the images of the bloater cluster, the record of the explosions, and the rest of her discoveries. She had been so excited, bursting with her news, but when she presented herself in the control chamber, she was astonished to see Lee Iswander's face. He looked exhausted. His skin tone was grayish, and he had shadows around his eyes.

“I'm glad to have one supporter back,” he said. “You don't know how much that means to me.”

Pannebaker swept into the control center, and his usual smile looked more relieved than excited. “Elisa! Well, that's one step closer to digging our way out of this hole.”

“We're in space,” grumbled Iswander's eleven-year-old son. “Everything's a hole.”

His mother wrapped her arm around the young man's shoulders and pulled him close, though Arden resisted. “I told you it'll be all right. Your father's had ups and downs before. We'll get through this—we just have to be strong.”

Elisa looked Iswander straight in the eye, not even requiring full explanations before she made her decision. “I'm here to provide anything you might need for Iswander Industries. You have my full commitment … now that my son is gone.” Her voice cracked at the end.
Now that I have no distractions. No family obligations. Nothing else to divert me.

“We'll need it,” he said.

Iswander explained the disaster in the lava-processing facilities, and how it had become clear to other Roamers that he'd used “irresponsible safety margins.” Before leaving, Elisa had read the Chicken Little reports Garrison had compiled and witnessed his increasing agitation, but she had dismissed his fears, and Iswander had chosen not to prepare.

“Fifteen hundred and forty-three dead,” he said again. “Only two dozen workers followed me back here, in hopes of salvaging something from the wreckage. Not because they have faith in me—I just don't think they have anyplace else to go.” He hung his head. “I'm ruined. I have assets from my other industries, and I've buried funds in banks on scattered planets, but it won't do me much good. After this debacle, no one would partner with me again.”

Elisa still didn't understand. “So … you came back to lie low?”

“We're not hiding—we're reassessing,” Iswander said. He gave Elisa a self-deprecating smile. “By the way, I lost the election to become Speaker.”

“How bad was it?” she asked.

“I got one vote.”

“I wouldn't vote against you,” she said, then lifted her chin. “In fact, I've found a new venture for you. A big venture, something no other Roamer knows about. Are you willing to start from scratch?”

“Don't have much choice,” Iswander said. “And I've done it before.”

Her heart had felt heavy to see him so defeated, and now she saw a faint light in the back of his eyes again.
Good
.

She installed and displayed the file she had brought, then put determination in her voice. She had felt defeated, too, but she wouldn't allow that anymore—too much at stake. She had to be strong so she could help Lee Iswander.

“This is where I tracked Garrison in his stolen ship.” She displayed images of the swollen nodules drifting about in the empty dark between the stars. Thousands of them, some connected, others floating loose and far apart. “He tried to hide among them, even though he must have known they were dangerous. Watch this—just a little spark, an energy discharge…”

She displayed the furious inferno as the bloaters detonated, one after another, a chain reaction that swelled outward like multiple supernovas. The blast flung her ship on the crest of the shockwave.

Iswander blinked, as if reminded of the too-sharp pain of other flames. He reached out to clutch her hand with a strong grip as he said, “I'm sorry about your son, Elisa.”

She pulled her hand away and called up another file. “That isn't all, sir. Those bloaters were scattered across great distances, like breadcrumbs in a line. Once I knew what to look for, I scanned far and wide—and discovered another concentration, a large cluster of bloaters near the fringe of an uninhabited star system. I suspect there are other clusters as well. I left a marker there—we can go back whenever we like. It will save you, and it will make you fabulously rich.”

Iswander looked at the images of the exotic bloaters, dull brownish-green nodules barely lit by the distant spray of starlight. “But what are they? And why are they so special?”