Read Outland for Free Online

seemingly indifferent.
    His features seemed taken from a much smaller man, all squinched together in that falsely cherubic face, which gave all his expressions a forced look.
    There was nothing of the athlete about him, but you still had the impression he was much faster than he looked. He gave off an aura of readiness. It was the look of a large fox. Or hyena, both equally dangerous when they wanted to be yet capable of controlling their ferocity.
    At the moment the man was relaxed, a kind of tense tranquillity in his expression. His eyes moved lazily, studying the assemblage as it listened dutifully to the man standing next to him. The man was O'Niel, and he was doing something he was not particularly fond of: talking.
    ". . . finally," he was telling the crowd, "I realize that I'm still new here. You're going to have to get to know me, and I'm going to have to get to know you. There will likely be some times we won't see eye to eye. I hope few of them. I know we can work together and get along." He ventured a smile that was not returned.
    "I just hope I can justify your confidence in me." He paused. The silence in the room matched the silence outside. The loudest sound came from coffee lapping against cup rims and one muffled cough.
    "Thank you." O'Niel sat down. The quiet hung in the air like a fog.
    He leaned over and whispered to the sergeant seated on his left. "I really wowed 'em."
    "Had them eating out of your hand," Montone whispered back, grinning. "This is about as excited as they ever get at one of these things. Don't forget they'd all rather be shooting the bull and swapping gossip. This is their off-time."
    "Are there any questions?" The query came from the bear of a man seated on O'Niel's right, who had finally bestirred himself. Sheppard never whispered and his question echoed around the room. He was never afraid of being the one to break the ice. If he so desired he could break much more than that.
    A number of backsides shifted awkwardly in their seats. For all the talent and ability packed into the Ward Room, its occupants were acting like a bunch of schoolchildren waiting for someone else to tackle the teacher's question.
    Finally an older woman raised her hand. "Marshal . . . Flo Spector, Accounting Services." She looked around, as if seeking support from her silent companions. "I'm sure I speak for all of us here in extending our welcome to you and your family. If there is anything Ms. O'Niel or your son should need, please let them know they can call on me. If I don't know the answers to their question, I'll know someone who will."
    O'Niel gave her a grateful smile, glad that at least someone retained a semblance of neighborliness. Of course, by the very nature of his job he could hardly expect an outpouring of affection. But he never got used to the coldness, despite having gone through similar introductory gatherings many times.
    "Thank you very much, Ms. Spector. I will be sure and tell Ms. O'Niel . . . and Paul."
    He glanced around the room, searching for signs of additional questions but there were none. The boredom was plain on everyone's face. They were ready to get back to work, to relaxing, anything that would take them out of the Ward Room and the unwelcome confrontation.
    Sheppard took over again. "Well, I see there are no more questions." He looked over at O'Niel, smiled. At least, it seemed like a smile.
    "I would just like to add my welcome to Marshal O'Niel. I'm sure you'll all agree he will find this a pleasant and uneventful tour. I know he's just started here. Io takes some getting used to, even for those of us who've put in time at other Con-Am projects, but pretty soon he'll find that this is just like every other mining town. There's never much trouble."
    "Glad to hear it," O'Niel admitted. "I don't like trouble."
    Montone shifted in his seat, looking the other way as Sheppard continued. "Just remember, these men and women work hard. Very hard. I'm proud of that dedication and I do