Brain Ships - Anne McCaffrey [160]
"But won't Central Meds hold the patent, if you did the work there?"
"When—and if—it's patented," Alpha agreed.
"And you can't sell it until it's passed the trials and been patented—so it's no good to you!"
Alpha's eyes met Polyon's over Darnell's head. "Quite true," she agreed gravely, "but I think I may find a way to profit from the situation anyway."
"What about you, Fassa?" Polyon asked. The girl had been very quiet since her jab about the slave names of the Nyota system. "You going to take this boondocks construction company Daddy handed you lying down?" His tone invested the question with a wealth of obscene possibilities.
"Double profit on every job," Fassa announced calmly. "I've got a degree in accounting. I can fix the books in ways an auditor will never catch."
Darnell whistled appreciatively. "But if you are caught—"
Fassa coiled herself on the other side of Polyon's chair in a series of languorous, sinuous movements that drew all eyes to her. "I think," she said dreamily, "that I can distract any auditors who may think about checking the books. Or any building inspectors who need to sign off on materials quality." Her slow, dreamy smile promised a world of secret delights. "There's a lot of money in construction . . . if you go about it the right way."
The four of them made a tight grouping now: Polyon in the control chair, Darnell standing behind him, Fassa and Alpha seated on either side of him. Four pairs of eyes gazed expectantly at Blaize.
"Well," he said, swallowed, and started over again. "Ah—PTA doesn't offer quite as much scope for creativity as the rest of your outfits, does it now?"
"You're with us or against us," said Polyon. "Which is it to be, little cousin?"
"Ah—neutrality?"
"Not good enough." Polyon glanced around at the other three. "He's heard our plans. If he doesn't join us, he could have some idea of informing . . ."
Alpha leaned forward, smiling sweetly. Her teeth looked long and very white against her dark skin. "Oh, you wouldn't do that, would you, Blaize dear?"
"I wouldn't even think about it," Darnell put in, tapping one pudgy fist against his open palm.
Fassa licked her lips and smiled like a child anticipating a treat. "This could be interesting," she murmured to no one in particular.
Blaize glanced around the circle of faces, then looked towards Nancia's titanium column. She kept her silence. Nothing had actually happened yet; if these brats attempted violence, she could stop it in seconds with a flood of sleepgas. And Blaize knew that as well as she did. Nancia saw no reason to give up her anonymity just to reassure him. He'd been brave enough when he was picking on Polyon alone; why, for heaven's sake, couldn't he stand up to the rest of them?
"But then, Blaize never did have the guts to do something as decisive as telling," Polyon dismissed his cousin with a brief nod. "We'll let him think it over . . . all the way to Angalia. It'll be a long couple of weeks, little cousin, with nobody to talk to. And a much longer five years on Angalia. Hope you enjoy life among the veggie-heads. I shouldn't think anybody else in the Nyota system will have much to do with you." He swiveled to face the SPACED OUT display, and the other three turned with him.
"Oh—don't leap to assumptions so fast. I'm with you, definitely with," Blaize babbled. "There are possibilities—I just haven't had time to think them over yet. The corycium mine, for instance—it hasn't been properly developed—maybe I could get a part interest in that. And PTA makes regular food drops