Starfishers Volume 2: Starfishers Read Online Free PDF Page A

audience squirming, “there’re spies here. Spy is a nasty word, I know. And spying is a nasty business. But a realist recognizes the existence of espionage, and we’re all realists here. Aren’t we? Espionage is all around us today. We’re drenched in it. Up to our heinies in it. Because almost anybody with any power at all will do almost anything to get control of a starfish herd.”
    He assayed a little smile. It mocked them all. He was doing a show, putting on the pompous ass to prod somebody into reacting. BenRabi sensed a quiet, self-assured competence behind the showmanship. In fact, there was something about the man that screamed Security Officer.
    “You spies won’t learn a thing. Till your contracts terminate you’ll see nothing but the guts of a ship. Even then you’ll see only what we want you to see, when we want you to see it. Everybody. Hear this. Security rules will be observed at all times. That’s the Eleventh Commandment. Engrave it on your souls—if you have any. Even a slight irregularity might spook us into hasty reaction. Since we’re not sure what information the spy-masters would consider valuable, we’re going to do our damnedest not to give away anything at all.”
    BenRabi grimaced. Was the fool trying to impress them with Seiner paranoia and xenophobia? He could rave for a week and not intimidate the professionals.
    “I reiterate: outside agents simply won’t be given a chance to contact anybody who might possess critical information. There’ll be penalties for trying to reach such people. Am I making myself clear?”
    Someone made a snide remark.
    The speaker responded, “You’ve got to realize that we consider ourselves a nation unto ourselves. We’re not Confederation. We don’t want to be Confederation. We don’t give a damn about Confederation. All we ever asked from it was to be left alone. Which is what we ask of any gang of strongmen. Archaicism is our way of life, not just a crackpot hobby. Just for example, we still execute people once in a while.”
    That blockbuster fell into an ocean of silence.
    BenRabi wondered how many times Confederation had tried coaxing these strange, fiercely independent people into the government fold. Dozens, at least. Luna Command was persistent. It was a long-toothed hound that did not turn loose of a bone.
    And for a century and a half the Starfishers had managed to evade Luna Command’s “protection,” mostly by remaining so damned hard to find, but also by making it clear they were willing to fight.
    Luna Command had never given up. It never would. Even these people had to recognize that, benRabi thought. They had to recognize the government’s stake.
    Nervousness pervaded the waiting room, fogging in like some unexpectedly conjured demon. The briefing officer met pairs of eyes one by one. The romantic flinched before his stare. They were finding their legend had teeth and claws.
    No one executed people anymore. Even the barbarians beyond Confederation’s pale recycled their human garbage, if only through cyborg computation systems.
    The civilians were learning what people in benRabi’s trade learned early. Adventures were more fun when it was somebody else getting the excelsior ripped out of his crate.
    “In view of what I’ve said, and knowing that your futures may not be exactly what you anticipated when you applied,” the man said, “anybody who wants to do so can opt out now. We’ll cover expenses as advertised.”
    BenRabi smiled at his lap. “Thought that’s where you were headed,” he whispered. “Trying to spook the weaklings, eh?”
    There was a stir in response, but no one volunteered to go home. The weaklings seemed scared that they would look foolish. The Starfisher shrugged, collected his notes, and said, “All right. I’ll see you all upstairs.” He left the room.
    Time to sit, to wait for the shuttle; benRabi returned to his notebook and Jerusalem .
    He was having trouble with the story. His mind