Free Alien Earth by Megan Lindholm Page A

not going to be coerced this way. I don’t think you’ve got the arm twist on me that you think you do. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not going to be blackmailed into whatever you’re trying to get me to do. I don’t need you. I can get a legitimate contract with someone sane.”
    Before he had even finished speaking, Deckenson had lifted an inquiring finger. John watched the waiter react to it, darting forward with a credit slate for Deckenson to authorize. He left it discreetly on the corner of the table and retreated to seat some new arrivals. Without a word, Deckenson lifted it and glanced at it. He frowned, then presented it to John.
    “Dostoyevski?” he commented inquiringly. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
    John took it numbly, glanced at the display. It wasn’t the restaurant bill. It was, instead, a complete listing of his last three transactions with Ginger, including his most recent order. Dates, times, and even the exchange rendezvous points were listed. Deckenson reached across the table to take the slate from John’s lax grip. He tapped a few keys, then turned the slate to display for John their itemized restaurant bill. John made no comment as Deckenson turned the slate back toward himself.
    “I would have expected you to choose Shaw over Dostoyevski,” Deckenson observed coyly as he keyed in an agreement of credit transfer.
    “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” John had intended to sound defiant. But the wordscaught in his throat and he finished his attempt at bravado with a cough.
    “We know you well enough,” Deckenson assured him quietly. To make the threat less subtle, he offered, “Would you like to see a copy of your pre-Academy transcripts?”
    John’s mouth went dry. “What is it?” he demanded, his voice cracking on the question.
    “What do we want?” Deckenson’s eyes were back on him, suddenly hard in their triumph.
    “Yeah.” John begrudged everything he gave this man, every word, every second of his life.
    Deckenson leaned forward, and spoke with soft fervor. “Earth. We want the Earth back. We want to live there, as Humans were meant to do, as a part of the ecology, filling the niche we evolved to fill.” Fanaticism reddened his pale cheeks.
    “Earth is dead.” John spoke as if Deckenson were an unadjusted child, uninformed of the basic facts of ecology.
    Deckenson shook his head. “No. She’s not. And even if she were, we could revive her. With all we’ve learned from our exile, we could do it. Imagine it, John. We re-create the Earth, and Humans could have a real home again, instead of existing as we do, as very precarious guests of Castor and Pollux. Children could run through fields of plants instead of following pathways, pick fruit from trees without counting each piece, interact with lower life-forms without being accused of interference or damaging the planet. Or can you imagine it, John? You, who’ve never even been allowed on the open surface of a planet.”
    John closed his eyes for half a moment, pushed down total panic. How the hell much did they know about him, and how had they found it out? “That’s none of your business, where I’ve been or haven’t been,” he said flatly.
    “Perhaps not,” Deckenson said in a suddenly mild voice. “But nonetheless, we do know. Instead of being terrified of our betraying you, think what we’re offering you: the chance to finally stand on the surface of a planet and look up at the sky. And that planet is our own homeworld, Earth.”
    “Not my home.” John said it flatly.
    “John,” Deckenson chided. “It is. Yours and mine,and we could live there again. Earth Affirmed knows it’s true, despite all the official reports. All we need to do to prove it is sidestep the Conservancy. For years, they’ve given lip service to our requests for updates on Earth’s condition. We finance a Beastship there, we put up the money for the satellite surveillance and send in the