"Adam, you're a spaceman. You know how the Navy operates. Can you swallow that story about a missile getting loose by accident?"
Janichevski bit his lip. The sounds from outside filled the captain's cabin, voices, footfalls, whirr of machines and clash of doors, as the Pallas Castle readied for departure. Blades waited.
"You may be right," said Janichevski at length, wretchedly. "Though why Hulse should jeopardize his career—"
"He's not. There's a scapegoat groomed back home, you can be sure. Like some company that'll be debarred from military contracts for a while ... and get nice fat orders in other fields. I've kicked around the System enough to know how that works."
"If you're wrong, though ... if this is an honest blunder ... then you risk committing treason."
"Yeah. I'll take the chance."
"Not I. No. I've got a family to support," Janichevski said.
Blades regarded him bleakly. "If the Essjays get away with this stunt, what kind of life will your family be leading, ten years from now? It's not simply that we'll be high-class peons in the Belt. But tied hand and foot to a shortsighted government, how much progress will we be able to make? Other countries have colonies out here too, remember, and some of them are already giving their people a freer hand than we've got. Do you want the Asians, or the Russians, or even the Europeans, to take over the asteroids?"
"I can't make policy."
"In other words, mama knows best. Believe, obey, anything put out by some bureaucrat who never set foot beyond Luna. Is that your idea of citizenship?"