The Gripping Hand Read Online Free

A few years each. Um . . . they are in sequence. One disappears before the next is registered. Up to twenty years apart. Bury, I don't see that any of them went bankrupt."
     
     

    "That would be the obvious assumption, would it not? A scam. Many names, one man. But for a hundred and ten years? And evidently they paid their bills on time. At least they've paid decent sums to Nauvoo Vision for cargoes delivered across the system."
     
     

    "Taxes?"
     
     

    "They paid their taxes."
     
     

    "Offices were all here in Pitchfork River City. Check the addresses." Renner watched Bury's fingers. Sometimes the old man's hands shook; his servants learned to half-fill his cup so it didn't spill. But Bury's hands became wonderfully agile on a computer keyboard. "What does it mean?"
     
     

    "No such present address . . . none of them. I'll have Nabil search out older records. It means I've been paid for nothing."
     
     

    "Huh?"
     
     

    "I was joking. Nauvoo Vision 's flinger has seen hard use. Cargoes have been launched across the system, but not targeted at asteroid mines, not these mines. Where, then?"
     
     

    "There were extensive civilizations in the asteroids of Mote system." Renner saw Bury's hands begin to shake and said, "Just a thought. Outies is the way to bet. The rebels are back."
     
     

    "I do not bet the future of humanity at any odds, Kevin." Bury leaned back, took a deep breath. "Well. We'll be a few minutes early for dinner if we start now."
     
     

    "I gather that's the custom here."
     
     

    "Yes. Let us see what we can learn at the Governor's Palace."
     
     
2: Receptions
The first adventurer was a nuisance. I am sure he acted against his mother's, his wife's, and the council of old men's strict orders when he did it; but it was he that found where the mammoths die and where after a thousand years of use there was still enough ivory to equip the entire tribe with weapons. Such is the ultimate outline of the adventurer; society's benefactor as well as pest.

     

    —William Bolitho, Twelve Against the Gods

     

     
     
     

    The reception line was mercifully short. Governor Sir Lawrence Jackson, a former Navy man who'd gone into politics. Lady Marissa Jackson. Renner thought she looked Eurasian. Norvell White Muller, the president of the local branch of the Imperial Traders Association. Half a dozen other local officials.
     
     

    "Sir Kevin Renner," the protocol officer announced.
     
     

    "Welcome to Maxroy's Purchase, Sir Kevin," the Governor said.
     
     

    "Actually, I don't use the title much, Governor. Thank you for the reception. Glad to be here."
     
     

    "A bit tame for someone who has been to Mote Prime, I imagine," Lady Jackson said.
     
     

    There was something familiar about the Governor's voice, but before Renner could study the Governor's face more closely, the people behind him had moved up, and he was swept past the reception line and out into the main hall.
     
     

    The reception hall was large and spacious. Between the big windows that overlooked the city and the Pitchfork River were "windows": holograms of scenes from elsewhere on the planet.
     
     

    Here, half a dozen spectacular waterfalls plunged from orange cliffs. Silver shapes leaped and danced in the pools below the falls.
     
     

    Here, a sea serpent chased a school of miniature dolphin shapes; then the dolphins turned and attacked the serpent with vicious fangs. The serpent dived to escape. The viewpoint followed it down . . . followed and closed in, until the serpent's tail seemed about to plunge out of the wall. The view shifted: the serpent was pulled tail first onto the deck of a boat, imprisoned by a tethered collar.
     
     

    Renner found himself next to a pretty girl in Imperial Navy uniform. She seemed young to be a lieutenant commander. "Spectacular," he said.
     
     

    "Of course holograms for palace decorations went out of fashion on Sparta ten years ago," she said. "Hello, Sir Kevin. I'm