Free Finity's End - a Union-Alliance Novel by C. J. Cherryh Page A

disturbed.
    "Well, damn," Bucklin said.
    It was more than Bucklin should have said to a junior-junior. But Jeremy's young face showed no more cheerful opinion.
    "What terms?" JR asked. "Is there any word how? Or why?"
    "Did he apply to us?" The Fletcher Neihart case had gone on most of his life. They'd never worked it out. Now with so many things changing, the Rules upending, the universe settling to a peace that eroded all sensible behavior,
this
changed.
    "I don't know what they agreed," Jeremy said "I just heard they signed the papers and he's on the planet or something, but they're going to get him up here and we're taking him."
    How in hell? was the question that blanked other thinking.
    They
, the junior crew, were not only turned loose among dinosaurs—all of a sudden they had a station-born stranger on their hands.
    "That all you know?" JR said
    "Yes, sir, that's all. I just came from the sleepover. Sorry about the patch. I'm getting out of here."
    "This place is on the list," JR said meaning it was all right for junior-juniors, and Jeremy's eyes flashed with delight that didn't reckon higher problems.
    "Yessir," Jeremy said "Decadent!"
    "Vanish," JR suggested And should have added, Walk! but it was too late: Jeremy was gone at a higher speed than made an inconspicuous exit. Even the over-sugared teens in this place stared knowing who they were, and seeing that in this lax new world
Finity
crew played like fools and sat and drank with the rest of the human race.
    Observers who had jobs besides games might have noticed too, and know that
Finity's
seniormost juniors had just gotten a piece of not-too-good news on some matter. That could start rumors on the stock exchange. If it ricocheted to the Old Man, the junior crew captain would hear about it.
    The junior crew, meanwhile, didn't break out in complaints, just looked somberly at him—waiting for the word, the junior-official position from him, on a situation that had just suddenly cast a far more uncertain light not only on their liberty in this port, but on their whole way of working with one another.
    "Well," JR said to his crew, moderately and reasonably, he thought, and trying to put a cheerful face on the circumstances, "—this should be interesting."
    "He's a stationer," was the first thing out of Lyra's mouth.
    "He may be," JR said, "but you heard the word. If it's true, we've got him." He tossed a money card at Bucklin and got up. "Handle the tab. I've got to talk to the Old Man.
    Rain blasted down. The clean-suits were plastered to their bodies as they hurried down a scarcely existent path, and Fletcher's breath came short. The light-headedness he suffered said he was needing to change a cylinder, but he didn't want to stop for that, with the lightning ripping through the clouds and the rain making everything slippery. They were already going to be late getting back, and he knew their truancy was beyond hiding.
    He had to get Bianca back safely. He had to think of what to say, what to do to protect himself
and
her reputation; all the while his breaths gave him less and less oxygen even to know where he was putting his feet.
    His head was pounding. He slipped. Caught himself against a low limb and tried to slow his breathing so he could get
something
through the cylinders.
    "What's the matter?" Bianca wanted to know. "Are you out?"
    "Yeah." He managed breath enough to answer, but his head was still swimming. He had to change out. The rules said—they were posted everywhere—advise your partner if you felt yourself get light-headed: if you were alone, shoot off the locator beeper you weren't supposed to use in anything but life and death emergency. But they weren't to that point. If he hadn't been a total fool. A hand against his thigh-pocket advised him he was all right, he'd replaced the last one—when? Just yesterday?
    "Need one?" Bianca's voice was anxious.
    "Got my spares. Let's just get there. Don't want to be logged any later than we are." He kept