Boone eyed him curiously. "How does it look?"
The lawyer leaned back, and the carrier slid smoothly into motion. "Frankly, I don't like it. Krobis wants blood. He's come in all the way from Ganymede himself, instead of sending a deposition or testifying on the com-box; and he's persuaded the Cartel to try you before a general board so that you can be discharged from the service, with release to the Federation for criminal action if you're convicted."
"So it's double trouble." Boone smiled wryly. "I might have expected that from Krobis."
"You're not convicted yet," retorted Schilling. "Besides, I got that release order so you'd have a chance to talk with someone who's in a spot to help you."
"Terral?"
The lawyer nodded and brought the carrier to a halt beside a building. "You'll find him in my office, there. I'll drop back later."
It was Boone's turn to nod. He got out and went into the building.
And there was Terral—lean, grey, shrewd-eyed Terral, the man empowered to speak for Associated Independents.
He gripped Boone's hand. "Glad to see you, man—even though the circumstances could be better."
"Oh, I don't know." Boone held face and voice alike noncommittal. "Anyhow, thanks for getting Schilling."