Stumbling through pipes and dismantled hulks that smelled of sacking and dried vegetables and oil, Campbell filled in the gaps.
The leaders of the rebel element had held a meeting down here, in secret. Marah and the girl had been coming from it when Campbell blundered into them. The decision had been to rescue the Kraylens no matter what happened.
They'd known about the Kraylens long before Campbell had. Gypsies trading in Lhi had brought word. Now the Kraylens were a symbol over which two points of view were clashing in deadly earnest.
Remembering Tredrick's thin, harsh face, Campbell wondered uneasily how many of them would live to take that ship away.
He became aware gradually of a broken, rhythmic tap and clank transmitted along the metal walls.
"Hammers," said Stella softly. "Hammers and riveters and welders, fighting rust and age to keep Romany alive. There's no scrap of this world that wasn't discarded as junk, and reclaimed by us."
Her voice dropped. "Including the people."
Campbell said, "They're scrapping some beautiful things these days."
She knew what he meant. She even laughed a little. "I was born on Romany. There are a lot of Earth people who have no place at home."
"I know." Campbell remembered his father's farm, with blue cold water over the fields instead of sky. "And Tredrick?"