“Also?” Grace repeated, a comment echoed around the hall.

“Yes, you are not alone in these desperate times,” Santorini went on. “Since The Republic of the Sphere has doubly failed in its duty to provide for common communications and the public defense, violent elements have risen up and moved against many planets. Some planets are lucky enough to have powerful patrons to protect them from these latter-day wolves. Others have been stripped down to the dirt by repeated bloody raids. From what I saw on my drive from the spaceport, you got off relatively lightly. Was this your first experience with the new vandals?”

“Yes, it was,” Garry answered. “Would it be too much for me to ask what brought you to Alkalurops?”

“No, not at all,” Santorini said. “May I take a seat?” A woman sitting near him yielded her chair. Santorini allowed her to position it before he settled on it with regal flair. Never having seen a king, Grace could only guess at the effect and note the goose bumps that went up her spine. There was a sense of power about this man. What she could not decide was whether it was for good or ill.

“I am in the employ of Lenzo Computing Industries of Nusakan. I expect we are familiar to you. No doubt many of you use our hardware and software in your homes and businesses. With the growing unpleasantness wracking The Republic, my corporation is looking for a new home for its central office. Such a move will impact several hundred thousand of our employees, and will provide jobs for millions more on the planet we choose for our headquarters.” He smiled at Garry. Grace could almost hear the mayor of Little London calculating the incentives his town could offer Santorini and dreaming of a name change—Greater London!

Oh, crap.

It took Grace about five seconds to do the math. Alkalurops was at just about full employment. Of course, full employment usually allowed for either parent to concentrate on raising the kids or for both parents to alternate work time and volunteer projects. You needed a lot less government and a lot fewer taxes when folks pitched in without being told. Pirate had dug many a kilometer of roadside drainage ditch or cleaned them out after a bad flood. Wilson had a grader that divided its time between the roads on his farm and the public ones.

The only way Alkalurops could absorb millions more workers was to either let in immigrants or dig them out of their own population. That meant two workers from each family, which would probably be necessary for a family to survive. What with all the new mouths to feed and house and provide cars for, the price of everything was going to skyrocket.

“Isn’t progress a wonderful thing to observe in action?” Jobe said, rolling his eyes. Around her, Grace could see people working it out for themselves. Some saw profits and smiled. Others, like her, counted the cost and scowled.

Santorini paused for a moment to sip from a cup of water at his elbow. A perfect pause for all concerned. As he put the cup down, he cleared his throat. When he continued, his voice was pitched to fill every corner of the hall. Even the food hawkers fell silent.

“At the moment, however, I believe the matter most urgent for your attention is the special relationship between me—or rather my corporation—and a group of freedom fighters.”

He let the words hang in the air for a moment. “Those with business connections on Skye know that its transfer from the Lyran Commonwealth to The Republic left many unsatisfied.” That was news to Grace, and she did have business connections on Skye. She glanced at Gordon Frazier from Kilkenny and a few other friends. Their faces were pretty well frozen in neutral. Maybe a slight furrow of the brow hinted that this was not going down well.

“Into the silence of the HPG links, Landgrave Jasek Kelswa-Steiner has raised his flag to correct that wrong by The Republic. People from Skye and all over The Republic have flocked to his standard, that of the ancient Stormhammer, and Nusakan has provided him a base for his operations. Not by chance, his presence has given us the kind of shield that other, less guarded worlds have come to envy. If I choose Alkalurops as the new base for LCI, be assured that the Landgrave will fully protect you from further depredations.”

“Assuming we don’t get hit by whoever is trying to hit the Landgrave,” Grace said into the silence.

“The Stormhammers are most competent at protecting their interests,” Santorini snapped.

“Where have we heard that before?” came from somewhere down the table.

Grace had no intention of letting this get away from her. She stood and spoke. “And what is the price of this protection? Is the Landgrave willing to do this out of the kindness of his heart? Is this company you work for”—Grace emphasized this point, one that she felt Santorini had skimmed over—“so important to the Landgrave that he protects it purely for the natural benefits, or is there more to the relationship?”

The off-worlder dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure something can be worked out to everyone’s convenience.”

“What will it cost to have the Stormhammers protect us?” Grace demanded. “In plain language, please.”

Now Santorini stood up, unwinding himself from his chair like a man bothered by a gnat. “What has your own poor protection just cost you? Is there a single good ’Mech left on any lot in town?” As he shot his glance around the table, Grace heard the Sales and Service Guild master mumble a quick negative.

“How many of you lost IndustrialMechs off your fields, out of your businesses, your mines?” Many nods around the table. “Are they easily replaced?” The head-shakes were near frantic.

“Defense against the raiders and scavengers roaming space is not cheap. The Stormhammers ask for a donation of thirty percent of your net off-world trade. For that, they give you the security that is essential if you are to have any trade at all.”

“Thirty percent?!” came out in one breath around the table.

“You bought into the fairy tale that The Republic could keep you safe for a pittance: one Governor, one Legate, and a few trembling Constabulary jokes. What has it gotten you? Cleaned out, that’s what. You want safety, but it is not free. Do you want to be alive and in business next year? The year after? Or do you want to be a pile of bones, picked clean by any roving band that happens by? The choice is yours. Now, if you don’t mind, I have business with the Industrial Trade Group.”

Santorini and the mining company managers stood, nodded curtly to the room, and left, the heels of their shoes beating a confident cadence on the tiles.

“You certainly queered that deal, woman,” Dev snapped. “Now he’ll probably jack the price up to forty percent.”

Garry hammered the gavel, and the room stayed quiet. “Grace O’Malley, are you prepared to speak for the small-holders and small towns?” the mayor of Little London demanded.

Grace glanced around the table. Some nodded, while others seemed less willing to let her talk for them. No surprise there. “I’ll start talking and see how long it is before someone sees the need to correct me.” At the top of their lungs, no doubt.

“You have a counterproposal to Mr. Santorini’s offer?”

Grace rested her hands on the table and leaned into the room as she might against the wind of a spring hurricane. “For eight hundred years we’ve walked this planet. There’s aren’t a lot of us,” she said, standing tall. “You all know why. The air stinks, or so off-worlders tell us. It’s too hot and dry, they tell us, except when a hurricane’s blowing or a thunderstorm is dropping hail and maybe a tornado.” That brought a familiar chuckle from around the table.

“But it’s our land. The land our parents mined or farmed before us. This is the land we raise our kids on as we choose. Now this guy comes in here and offers to buy us out and load us up with a lot of strangers. He promises a wonderful business boom, but, oh, by the way, you’ll have to pay for some goons to protect you from some other goons.