Chapter Three
Rlinda Kett
The Rendezvous asteroid cluster, formerly the government center for the Roamer clans, was a disorganized spray of rocks orbiting a red dwarf named Meyer. As the Voracious Curiosity approached, Rlinda thought the interconnected rocks still looked disorganized. That wasn’t much of a surprise, since the Earth Defense Forces had blasted the complex apart and made the Roamers flee as outlaws during the Elemental War.
En route, Rlinda had prepared a particularly fine meal with fresh ingredients—potatoes, peas, beans, and carrots from Happiness. Though the neo-Amish liked to be isolated, their hospitality could not be faulted. Confident she would keep their secret, they were so trusting, so wholesome. Only Daniel, the former Prince, had shown any uneasiness. Rlinda remembered what a brat he had been, but she did admire how much he had changed.
She would respect the lost colony’s wishes. Although she was a trader, as well as the Confederation’s Trade Minister, she would leave them be and not let them be exploited by outside interests. Her goal was to keep everyone happy.
She now knew that Olaf Reeves had kept the secret as well, respecting the neo-Amish privacy. Roamer clans followed their Guiding Star, and the neo-Amish believed in a biblical God who somehow could not wrap His mind around post-industrial technology. But philosophically, the two groups were aligned, and it didn’t surprise her that Olaf felt a certain kinship with them. The gruff old clan leader in the wreckage of Rendezvous wasn’t very sociable either.
As the Curiosity cruised in, she picked up overlapping comm transmissions and the busy work of a bustling construction site. Before approaching the main asteroids, she made a point of identifying herself. Ever since Rendezvous had been attacked by the EDF, the Roamers had every reason to be jittery.
A young man responded on the comm screen. “This is Dale Reeves, Captain Kett. You are welcome here. We’ve restored an entire section of quarters on the tertiary asteroid, so there’s plenty of room for you to visit.”
“Give me a docking vector, and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Relaxing back in her widened piloting seat, she tapped the silver capsule of BeBob’s ashes. “It’s good to be welcomed. Now let’s see what these Roamers are up to.”
She already knew Olaf’s grand plans, since the gruff clan leader made no secret of his dreams, unorthodox though they might be. Rendezvous had once been an amazing island of habitable rocks, hollowed out and rigged with life-support systems. The clans had connected the asteroids with girders and walking tubes. At its peak, the grand complex had held nearly a hundred asteroids with outlying depots, tethered satellites, pressurized habitation warrens, and clan meeting centers. Rendezvous was where the various families discussed their business, and it was where their culture had blossomed.
Rlinda winced as space rubble pocked against her defensive shields. Much of Rendezvous had been blown up, hammered by EDF jazers. The broken pieces of an impressively complex puzzle had drifted aimlessly for years. Rlinda frowned at the idiocy of that chaotic massacre during the War, all the EDF Mantas and Juggernauts hunting down Roamer ships, when the actual enemies of humanity were the hydrogues and faeros…
She guided her ship toward a large crater in the central asteroid, which had been converted into a pressurized landing bay. Over millennia, the asteroid’s surface had been marred by numerous celestial impacts, but she could make out dozens of fresh scars, patterns of disturbed regolith from recent explosions.
Since embracing the task of reconstructing Rendezvous, clan Reeves had maneuvered five of the main asteroids back together, building anchor struts, support girders, and reinforced tubes that let people travel from one rock to another without donning an exosuit. Right now she counted at least twenty construction workers outside attaching girders and stringing tethers so that smaller rocks could be pulled in to the central mass. Construction pods jetted around the expanse, pushing loose rocks inward.
Olaf’s voice boomed over the comm. “Welcome, Captain Kett. It’s about time someone from the Confederation came to see what we’ve accomplished.”
“I’ll be landing in five, and you can show me around.”
She had already seen images of the progress. For the past decade, Olaf had been dogged in his determination to rebuild Rendezvous exactly as it had been, although the other Roamers had moved on, constructing a new government complex called Newstation. Not the most inspired of names, Rlinda thought, but descriptive at least.
Objectively, they had accomplished little in ten years, but the more the other clans rebuilt their holdings elsewhere, the more Olaf Reeves tightened his grip here, as if to prove he could accomplish what he had set out to do, whether or not it still made any sense.
After she landed the Curiosity inside the docking bay, an atmosphere containment field sealed over the gap, and she emerged as soon as the pressurization was complete. Roamers were already coming out to meet her.
A thin, nervous-looking young man accompanied the domineering Olaf Reeves. Olaf’s voluminous beard was meticulously groomed, in sharp contrast to the unruly facial hair she had seen among the neo-Amish. Olaf smiled at her, but his face seemed tight, as if smiling was something he did only rarely. When she returned the gesture, she liked to think her smile was warmer and more sincere.
Other Roamers came out to join him as well as a tall, blond man with statuesque features and pale blue eyes. Olaf said to the blond man, “Bjorn, Captain Kett will need to have her ekti tanks refilled, and give her ship any maintenance it needs.”
“The Curiosity will be fine,” Rlinda said. “I brought you a nice gift.” She held out the dirty cloth sack the farmers on Happiness had given her. Although she would have liked to keep all the fresh produce for herself, she knew how rarely the Roamers received real fruits and vegetables. “The neo-Amish on Happiness wanted me to give this to you.”
Olaf reacted with surprise. “You’ve been to Happiness?” He looked around in alarm as if one of his people might have betrayed a confidence.
Rlinda held up a hand. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll respect their privacy. As Confederation Trade Minister, I needed to make sure that the lost Klikiss colonies were at least accounted for. That’s all I needed.”
Olaf handed the sack of vegetables to his son, Dale, who passed them to a young woman hovering next to him. She was slender and pretty, with strawberry blond hair and eyes that flashed very quickly. She opened the sack and frowned inside at the turnips, sweet potatoes, cucumbers, and carrots, still covered with dried dirt.
Olaf gave her a dismissive gesture. “Sendra, go prepare a celebration meal for us. Do whatever you think best with the vegetables.”
She sniffed. “I have no idea how to cook these. I don’t even know what they are.”
“Then you should learn if you intend to marry my son Garrison,” Olaf scolded.
“Why would I need to learn that?” Blushing furiously, she held up a round turnip, turning it from side to side. “When would we ever grow one of ... these?”
Rlinda offered to cook them up. “I’ve got experience—and recipes.”
Olaf seemed taken aback. “You and I have important matters to discuss, Captain Kett. If you are the Trade Minister, Rendezvous requires more materials, more funding, and more ships for the construction effort. If other clans had contributed to the work, we’d be much closer to completion by now.”
Choosing her priorities, Rlinda reclaimed the sack of vegetables and then took Sendra’s arm. “Important things first, Mr. Reeves. Anyone can do without politics, but we can’t do without cooking.” The young woman couldn’t seem to decide whether to be miffed or relieved.
Later, surrounded by delicious aromas, Rlinda and Sendra presented the meal as if to a fine dignitary at her Arbor Restaurant on Theroc. Olaf had prepared a place for himself, another for Rlinda, and a third seat for Dale. Even though Sendra had helped cook, the clan leader did not invite her to join them. “This is business,” he said, shooing her away. “When you’re married to the future clan leader, you can join us. For now, let us talk.”
Sendra frowned and flounced away.
After she left, Olaf’s expression softened. “That’s Sendra Detemer. She’s had her eyes on my Garrison, and I think it’ll be an acceptable match.” A troubled look crossed his face. “Maybe she can bring my son back in line.”
“Garrison’s doing what he thinks best, Father,” Dale said.
Olaf glared at his younger son. “He doesn’t need to think what’s best. I’ve already told him.”
“Will Garrison be joining us for the discussion?” Rlinda asked, hoping it might soothe the obvious tension.
“No, he’s off among the Roamer strongholds, gathering donations, materials, and trying to recruit workers.” Olaf took several bites of his food without remarking on the taste at all, which disappointed Rlinda. “More than a decade a handful of us have been working here, just clan Reeves. Do the Roamers not remember their heritage? Don’t they want us to be great again?”
Rlinda was surprised. “The Roamers are a respected part of human government now. They’re no longer outlaws. Many clans are turning great profits.”
“But it’s not the same,” Olaf said.
“Some might say the situation’s improved,” Dale said in a very small voice. He flinched as Olaf looked at him, but he added, “Roamers used to live only in the most hazardous environments. Now, we can live like normal people again.”
“Roamers aren’t normal people,” Olaf said. “We’re better. We develop survival skills that weaker members of the Confederation could never match. If we live under pampered conditions, we will forget what it is to be a Roamer.” He nodded to himself. “A knife loses its edge unless it is sharpened.”
Rlinda respected what clan Reeves had accomplished here, but rebuilding the entire complex seemed an insurmountable—and unnecessary—task.
“Newstation is quite remarkable,” she pointed out. “A huge ring station above a planet that holds a Klikiss transportal. They’ve even parked a comet nearby so they can extract water and oxygen from the ices. It seems to be thriving.” She hardened her voice, knowing what she had to do as Trade Minister. “In fact, many Roamer clans are wondering why you don’t join the efforts there. Newstation is obviously going to be the main hub.”
Olaf scoffed. “Rendezvous is where the first Roamers settled. This place is our history, and it’s always been good enough for us.”
“But it was just where a tired old colony ship encountered some rocks that could be made into a beachhead. Isn’t that true?” Rlinda had studied a little bit of Roamer history, though most people in the Confederation were unaware of the details. “This place was an accident. Newstation was founded on purpose.”
“Rendezvous is our home,” Olaf said.
Hearing the finality in his tone, Rlinda gave him a conciliatory smile. “As Trade Minister, I’m just here to report. I don’t take any sides in clan politics. Once Rendezvous is up and running again, you’ll have plenty of people willing to come here to trade.” She spread her hands. “Who says there needs to be only one big trading center? There can be Newstation, and there can be Rendezvous.”
“And Ulio Station,” Dale piped up. “There’ll be a lot of trading complexes across the Spiral Arm. It shows how we’re growing, recovering after the War. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He looked eagerly at his father.
Olaf simply frowned at his food. “Rendezvous is still our home.”
Rlinda did her best to be polite for the rest of the meal, steering the conversation to news about strengthening ties with the Ildiran Empire, about how the Roamers were skymining again because hydrogues had not been seen on gas giants for nine years. She didn’t mention the neo-Amish again, nor did she express that the more she saw of Olaf’s work here at Rendezvous, the more she thought he was tilting at windmills.
Her greatest regret in coming here, though, was in sacrificing all those fresh homegrown vegetables. As far as she could tell, Olaf Reeves hadn’t enjoyed a single bite.