"No, that's the bad part of it. We've got to hold the tunnel open."
He leaned forward, tapping his pencil.
"United Satellites, comprising fifteen powers, accepted a contract to open the tunnel, on the promise that we would keep it open. Now there's a war between Vestena and Parma. The Merchants of Vestena won't buy from us, and the tunnel was used mostly by their ships. Yet, even if the other powers no longer use the tunnel, we promised to keep it open in the event they do. They won't release us from that contract. Now we've got to keep open our most vulnerable approach. We've got to protect it from the people who will leave no stone unturned in their effort to destroy us by attacking through the tunnel. It's a nasty mess."
It was nasty. Freedman realized it. But this was an army job. A job for the Warrior Patrol.
He stood up.
"I'll keep my end going," he said. "I'm doing three patrols every day. When you need the Z1000, you know where to find me."
He was half way to the door when Folley stopped him.
"What's eating you, Blair?" Folley asked abruptly.
Freedman whirled around.
"Jerry's death for one thing," he said.