stopped at the hatchway. Wanda's two ratings followed them up the gangway at a slight distance.
"They're all on the trucks, sir," Mohacks said. The Second Officer aimed her transceiver toward the receiving lens and relayed the message to Commander Kneale. Dust in the air fuzzed the IR signal.
The stranger stuck out his hand. "Tom Urdener," he said. "Latimer Trading. We're the contractors on this lot."
"Why the hell didn't you have your people in place?" Ran demanded. "You barely provided enough to drive the trucks! By the contract, our personnel aren't responsible for the emigrants once we've opened the berth sections on the ground!"
"I know that," Urdener said, "I know that. What happened is that I lost over a hundred of my staff when you radioed news that war had broken out. They're boarding your ship right now."
"Huh?" said Ran.
"Grantholm nationals," Urdener explained. "Reservists, most of them. They're going home to join their military."
He sighed and shook his head. "We shouldn't have hired so much of our staff from one planet, I suppose," he went on. "But—you know, there's nobody like a Grantholmer to keep a labor crew's noses to the grindstone. Nobody like them at all."
Urdener touched his forehead in a half-serious salute. "Can't stand here gabbing," he said. "Just wanted to apologize to you, is all."
He headed back down the gangplank.
Ran looked at Wanda. "I'm sorry," he said. He thought of adding something, but he couldn't decide what to say—especially with the two ratings on Wanda's shift staring at the officers. Mohacks had disappeared down the corridor.
"You're right," Wanda said. She touched the switch that shut the compartment to the outside. The hatch began to swing closed from top and bottom simultaneously.
"And Federated Earth is right," she continued, staring out as the rectangle
"They're all on the trucks, sir," Mohacks said. The Second Officer aimed her transceiver toward the receiving lens and relayed the message to Commander Kneale. Dust in the air fuzzed the IR signal.
The stranger stuck out his hand. "Tom Urdener," he said. "Latimer Trading. We're the contractors on this lot."
"Why the hell didn't you have your people in place?" Ran demanded. "You barely provided enough to drive the trucks! By the contract, our personnel aren't responsible for the emigrants once we've opened the berth sections on the ground!"
"I know that," Urdener said, "I know that. What happened is that I lost over a hundred of my staff when you radioed news that war had broken out. They're boarding your ship right now."
"Huh?" said Ran.
"Grantholm nationals," Urdener explained. "Reservists, most of them. They're going home to join their military."
He sighed and shook his head. "We shouldn't have hired so much of our staff from one planet, I suppose," he went on. "But—you know, there's nobody like a Grantholmer to keep a labor crew's noses to the grindstone. Nobody like them at all."
Urdener touched his forehead in a half-serious salute. "Can't stand here gabbing," he said. "Just wanted to apologize to you, is all."
He headed back down the gangplank.
Ran looked at Wanda. "I'm sorry," he said. He thought of adding something, but he couldn't decide what to say—especially with the two ratings on Wanda's shift staring at the officers. Mohacks had disappeared down the corridor.
"You're right," Wanda said. She touched the switch that shut the compartment to the outside. The hatch began to swing closed from top and bottom simultaneously.
"And Federated Earth is right," she continued, staring out as the rectangle