Read Fool's War for Free Online

theorized that shippers spent so much time in space with the same people that they looked for excuses to get out and meet with someone new. As a result, there was a great deal of face-to-face business done here, even though Port Oberon had excellent video and holo-projection facilities.
    Only some of the space was cut off into the normal wedge-shaped rooms for private, or semi-private negotiations. The rest was opened up, much like tapes Dobbs had seen of ancient flea markets. Sound-dampening panels took the place of canvas awnings. Patrons could order food in bulk or as individual meals. They could acquire tailored uniforms or personal clothes, or any service that could be transported between two points. Some shops took up three and four levels and had their own staircases zig-zagging up the sides of their private walls. An open medical lobby fronted the passage to the hospital. A couple of people in bright white med-tech coveralls marshalled a drone-gurney through the sterile-sealed doors. She got an impression of severely bruised skin and clotted blood and winced. If they were still bringing the victims in, that alarm she’d heard earlier had produced a lot of injuries. She knew that Port Oberon had a full-scale bio-garden, but she wondered how far it was going to be able to provide for the people who would now need new eyes and eardrums, and maybe even lungs.
    Dobbs shoved the grisly thoughts away and stepped nimbly between the crowds and knots and flowing waves of people. Her small size facilitated freedom of movement as she flitted from one clear spot to another. For her, it was like a game of tag with empty floor space as “it,” and if anyone was laughing at her as she darted past them, then she was just putting in a little overtime.
    Dobbs spotted an empty square foot of carpeting and jumped into it, planting both feet firmly on the floor. She looked up to see a tall, thin, pale man step abruptly away from the wall. She slid sideways just in time to avoid the collision, pressing her back against a wall of order terminals for C-Stacks Inc.
    “And if they say one word, one, about the budget, that’s it, I’m done!” the pale man shouted at the terminals. He glowered down at Dobbs and she saw bright blue eyes, and instantly got the feeling that he wasn’t looking at her.
    “You’d think,” he thundered, “that they’d ask! That there’d be a meeting! But no it’s just Lipinski we’ve got a packet and you have to fit it in the hold!”
    Dobbs dropped to the deck, rolled into a fetal position, and shook.
    Above her, there was a long moment of silence.
    “Are you okay?” he asked finally.
    “Are you done yelling?”
    “I think so.”
    “Then I think I’m okay.” Dobbs somersaulted backwards and came up on her knees.
    “You’re a Fool,” he said quietly.
    “And you’re Rurik Lipinski, Communications Chief for the Pasadena .” She tightened her muscles and leapt to her feet. A small twinge told her she shouldn’t be trying that move in full gravity anymore today. “I didn’t expect to meet you until tomorrow.”
    Since the Pasadena was a mail packet ship, Dobbs knew the comm-chief, or “Houston,” was the second most important officer on the ship. The first would be the Chief Engineer, the person who kept the ship running; Al Shei herself.
    Lipinski gave Dobbs a smile that showed a row of even, white teeth. He was an anomaly, in more ways than one, Dobbs realized. First of all, he was really tall. Professional shippers tended to be a compact breed. Even then, most people looked tall from her five-foot elevation, but Lipinski stood head and shoulders above the rest of the passers-by. Secondly, he was nearly colorless. His hair was straw-blond and his skin was the milk-white color that turned lobster red in bright sunlight. Dobbs found herself wondering if he was a refugee from one of the Aryan Purist colonies.
    “You’re with us?” There wasn’t a trace of his previous anger in his voice.