Assassination, Jansen thought now. Legally, it would be a crime. The civilized worlds would forever be closed to Jansen. But morally it would be anything but a crime. Morally, Jansen would be helping billions of people he would never see—and, if he helped them, he would be from that day forth an outcast who must live out the rest of his life on the far outworlds.
For Ted, he thought. And Earth....
"Why'd Bareen come here?" Jansen asked the girl suspiciously. "I thought he runs this show from the sub-space tunnel."
"Sure he does. But periodically he comes here to check on his men. You must have known it: why did you come here?"
"I couldn't get assigned to the sub-space tunnel. I'm no technician. I was going to figure a way in, later."
"There's no later for you. How much time do you think you have, Jansen?"
He shrugged, and asked a question of his own. "Why are you pretending to help me?"
"Ted and I—"
"He's dead now, remember?"
Wendy stood up angrily. "All right, have it your way. Bareen is here. You're here. I thought that was what you wanted. I told you. I—"