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As he left Julian's room, Venner saw Helen coming towards him. Wordlessly, she slipped into his arms. 'I think Julian is back in Hilldorp now,' he said. 'I know,' she said. 'He was with us all the way, wasn't he, while we were in the Holodream. The security people were questioning me and Latonia about him and we didn't know what to say. Of course, we only knew him in Hilldorp. Because he went on with you, didn't he, to Rome, and Sherwood Forest?' 'Yeah, and it was impossible, according to the techies, that he could have come out here onto the Tortuga at all. For that matter, he should never have been able to get into Rome or Sherwood.' 'I know, I know,' she replied. 'If you ask me, that guy is more substantial than, say, that chap,' said Venner, pointing at a blameless passenger going by. Helen laughed. 'I've felt the same way. But you're not entitled to express opinions like that, are you, Ven? Maybe even if you feel it you shouldn't say it because of your position in life?' 'Maybe I'd like to get away from it, my position in life.'The word is getting out,' said Helen, 'but only creeping like, one person at a time. It's not in the media. It seems the Galerians don't want it known, because you may gain supporters, and Tak Vakrovar is also keeping a lid on it as far as he can, hoping you'll return to Caram before it's generally known who you are. For your safety, you see.'
* * * * * *
Tak Vakrovar had been brought to the Sports Federation meeting hall in Caram under deep cover as he was almost as high on the wanted list of the Galerians as the Ralladar Heir to the throne of Mazarat himself. When the lanky sixty-year-old took the stand and grinned, slicking his long silver hair back with his fingers and grinning in that naughty-boy way that was his alone, the crowd clapped and cheered. 'People back on the bus there were asking me,' he said, 'about the right time to show our hand. Well, brothers and sisters, showing our hand will never be a clever policy at any time. We'll show them nothing, if it suits us. We don't just pootle around, we're not beginners here, we're veterans of more battles than one, most of us, and have got tricks up our sleeve the same as any practitioners, historical or modern, of the canny art of war.' Another eager round of applause greeted this remark. 'But tonight I will confirm that, as some of you have heard, we have been training far out on the borders of Mazarat, also in secret here outside Caram, and beyond the atmosphere of Pellax. Yes, we now have our own fighters and cruisers circling under various flags. 'I can add that we are getting support from the planet of Hortada Superior, which has declared for the Ralladar cause, and they are holding a fleet of battle cruisers ready for us, as well as giving assistance in the training of several hundred of our young men.' 'What about the Wellington?' someone shouted. 'Ah,' said Vakrovar, rubbing his chin and grinning cannily, 'I was forgetting. Yes, it's true that the former warbird FSS Wellington has been relieved of her more recent duties as a freighter and been refitted as a fighter carrier.' There were shouts of hurrah! as several of the men present had served on the ship in the old days. 'Is that old tub unsinkable?' shouted someone. 'The Wellington may be ancient,' replied Vakrovar, ' but she's got new engines, the latest armour, and best of all, we are lining up for her one of the keenest and bravest crews to be found in action anywhere in the cosmos. She's been reborn and relaunched and she'll see her glory days back again before long, you just wait.' 'And the Heir, what about him?' asked someone. 'We are in contact with him,' said Vakrovar, 'and I have hopes that he will join us, give us his support, though I must stress that he himself has been left unaware till now of his true inheritance. He's been living under an alias, as a commoner, not a blue-blood, making his living far from Pellax, which you will agree with me was a pretty sensible course in the circumstances.' 'Can we have his name?' called one fellow. 'What about a picture?' shouted another. 'No, my friends, that has to wait a while. At the moment nothing has been cast in brass. For all we know, he may actually decline to be our figurehead.' 'Never!' shouted someone.'Ralladar! Ralladar! Ralladar!' shouted the crowd. 'Well, yes, he may decline for all we know. I cannot tell him what to do, my friend, and neither can you. It's true that this prince has the cleanest Ralladar lineage of anyone alive, man or woman.' 'Ralladar! Ralladar!' 'I believe he is with us. But if he chooses not to take the throne, and he must have that supreme privilege which no one can dispute, we have a second stringer, a noble descendant from the Kleissenberg side of things. This gentleman, I assure you, will not refuse us the privilege of enthroning him.' 'Ralladar! Ralladar! Ralladar!' A bard got up and read out a brand new poem about the return of the golden years to Pellax. This was followed by two or three impromptu speeches from older fellows, some of whom frothed at the lips as they let their inspiration overtake them. The evening marked a true rallying of the spirit of the Ralladars (many present that night were wearing under mackintoshes or cloaks the old Ralladarian colours of dark red, black, and cream). The old songs were sung and the congregation made use of a pair of tables at the back of the hall which had been furnished with ample supplies of wine and snacks. As Vakrovar was partying alongside the rest, two grim-faced fellows from his bodyguard asked for a word. 'A man has come in from Kellagad on Jycona who would like a word with you.' Vakrovar put his cup on the table and stood up. Jycona? Kellagad? Prince Barratat had set out for those parts recently. 'Let's see him.' A slim, dark man with a muscular look came in, flanked by security. 'My name is Drax Deerfield,' said the newcomer, scrutinising Vakrovar with piercing green eyes. 'I was the man who pushed the Heir into the holographic clockwork on board the Tortuga.' And you come in here amongst all my clansmen and bareface me? thought Vakrovar. 'Well, it did him no harm. He jumped out of it only yesterday,' said the silver-haired statesman of Pellax. 'For that I thank the gods,' said Deerfield. 'Are you a Pellacian?' 'Yes.' 'And you wish to change your allegiance from the Galerian party to the Patriotic Resurgence?' 'Yes. I mean, I never really wanted to help the current régime, it just happened that way. It was Prince Barratat who sent me after our friend Lupo. It was that or the cobalt ray.' 'Well, you may be able to help us and in that way pay back the wrong you, uh, tried to do to our cause.' 'That is my desire. I hate the Galerians, I suppose I always have, and Prince Barratat in particular.''I am inclined to believe you. But we will of course have to do some backtracking on you, make the usual checks.' 'Of course, of course. If you talk about sacrificial, then let me tell you I am willing to go all the way in order to square my account.' 'What do you mean?' 'Give my life.' 'My friend, we do not expect our partisans to kill themselves in the course of the fight. The Galerians might encourage that battle tactic. We value life.' 'Life in whatever form,' said Lem, a friend of Vakrovar's who was the only person near enough to overhear them. 'Yes, Lem,' said Vakrovar with a smile, 'and when the price to be paid is the life of the foe, then we will snatch it away as fast as any.' Deerfield grinned and bowed his head. Vakrovar was thinking that as this man claimed to know Prince Barratat, he might be able to give some details that would be of help in the battle. He would have him debriefed. 'Anyone may have the power to help in the struggle to uproot this filthy régime of the Galerians.' said Vakrovar. You seem to be clever enough.' 'And I have some clever allies. I have been serving as an officer on the ship of Erl Spurgo.' 'Spurgo? Spurgo? Where have I heard that name?' said Vakrovar, turning to Lem. 'Erloch Spurgo. They refer to him as a pirate. He's been unloading freighters and relieving wealthy passengers of their baubles and credits all over the galaxy. His men are devoted to him and he's often seen in the seamy parts of Kellagad where the coppers go in pairs. He's tolerated by the justices, some claim. The people he has dealings with either become enemies who are too terrified to do anything agin 'im, or they take a shine to him and swear that he wears the last flower of chivalry in his flight cap.' 'So this brigand is your ally, and he might do something for us, is that what you're saying?'said Vakrovar. 'If there's something in it for him he will. I've got the guy's confidence.' 'You believe he can be a valuable ally for us, and a loyal one?' 'I trust him, for one. More than that, you can set me down as one of his devotees. Look, I think he could be a gre
at help to your cause. He's got no love for Prince Barratat Galerian. He knows the Prince fairly intimately, enough to cordially detest him. Plus, Spurgo listens to me, and I assure you I am one hundred per cent Ralladar. If Venner were here now I would suggest we put him on the deck of Spurgo's ship, the Fish Eagle. He wouldn't be safer anywhere in the galaxy, I tell you. Plus the fact, Ven, as we called him on the Tortuga, would make a first-class companion for Erloch Spurgo, who is a brilliant leader. Who would suspect that your prince was on deck with a notorious brigand?'
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Whatever was between Venner and Helen Macready in the Holodream, the attraction they had at that time been too preoccupied to indulge, had now come into its own. Deep chats, kisses and embraces were now so natural when they were alone in their quarters. 'I never dreamed,' said Helen, 'that we could be like this.' 'Liar!' said Venner, gently biting her ear lobe as they relaxed in her cabin. 'No, really, Ven. Maybe it was just that back there amongst the wide open spaces and the Zulus and Boers I for one was all snarled up inside. I was insecure.' 'As for me, back there on the veldt I always had some sort of a notion that there was something between us two that could break out at any time, baby.' 'I thought so too, but you seemed to have an understanding with Tonia, and that cramped my style considerably.' 'I think Tonia believed there was some sort of understanding between me and her, too, for a while. She's a looker, but not my type. Any more than poor old Lonnie is her type.' Helen had been rendered tongue-tied at first by the magnificent prospect of Venner's heritage. 'You have to go for it, don't you, Ven? You have to take it!' 'But you see, it's not as if it's all wrapped up in tissue paper for me, ready to pick up and get into and receive everything on tap,' said Venner. 'There are such people as the Galerians, you know, the current holders of the crown, and to go for it might well mean putting my neck out for the axe blade. I have to ask you, darling, not to mention anything about this, my prospects as king and all that. Don't even raise the topic of the royal houses of Mazarat, not with anybody.' 'Who knows about all this, and who doesn't?' asked Helen. 'Don't concern yourself with that. Assume nobody knows, that's the safest. I'm pretty sure Cutter is unaware of that side of the question. So far as he's concerned, he went into that Holodream Suite to save a member of his staff and that was that.' Oddly, Cutter was the next person they spoke to when they ran into him in the corridor. 'By the way,' the Captain said to Venner, 'a number of people have said why can't you two Top Hats get it together again now you're back out here on deck.' 'You mean there's still a demand for that old stuff?' 'Of course there is. They've seen a Top Hat come out of the clockwork of the Holodream, still in one piece, and what's more natural than for them to want you up there singing with Lonnie Pascoe again? They don't understand why you ever stopped.' 'I stopped because my contract wasn't renewed.' 'Are you serious? Who was it that didn't renew it? He didn't ask me, whoever it was. You and Lonnie were a popular duo. I even listened to some of your stuff myself.' 'Riley couldn't have thought I was any good. He renewed Lonnie but not me.' 'Bill Riley in Entetainments?' 'Yeah.' 'Well, fuck him. If he didn't like you, Ven, the passengers certainly did. You're back if you want it. Lonnie has been playing on his own recently, you know. The other guy dropped out.' 'What, Vince Crotchett?' 'Yes, according to Lonnie he didn't like to work on the songs like you did. He skimped.' 'He didn't get the harmonies like the original Top Hats, I for one noticed that much.' said Helen. 'The Top Hats were something else, man.' 'Well, people called them harmonies, but we just sort of blended it in in our own way and it worked. Lonnie can't read a note on a stave any more than I can.' 'But he can sing one, stave or no stave, and so can you,' said Cutter. 'You can take it from your Captain, Ven, that it's there if you want it. We can have the rebirth of the Top Hats, or relaunch, like. For now I've got to get back to the bridge,' he added, raising his hand as he left. 'Would you like to relaunch the whole project then, with Lonnie?' said Helen. Venner grinned and flexed the fingers of his left hand, as if changing from one guitar chord to another. 'There's nothing like it when you're playing your chords and throwing in a few improvised notes in E, or A, or whatever, and singing a great lyric.' 'There is one thing, though that I hadn't thought about,' said Helen. 'What's that?' 'Well, with things as they are, you may not want to be in the public eye. I mean the Galerians, even if you renounce the kingship for ever more, they're not likely to sit back and let you go on your way, are they?' 'They're probably going to be able to track me down, no matter what,' said Venner. 'But you're right, I don't have to make it easy for them.' 'Are you up for seeing Lonnie and Latonia tonight for dinner at the Coconut Lounge?' said Helen. 'Yes I am, I've got a lot to catch up on with Lonnie-boy. I really don't like seeing him with Latonia though, she's a player and Lonnie is too nice a guy.' 'Yes, he's too easy-going for his own good, isn't he. It's odd, because Lonnie is a tuned-in guy, no pun intended, who knows what's what. We've discussed these things before and he says he knows it's fatal to play it too keen in the "game of love", but it seems as if with Latonia he's forgotten all that. Can't help himself.' 'Yes,' said Venner, 'he can't follow his own advice in her case because to him she's different, I guess. That's the way he must be looking at it. He's making a fatal exception, in her case.' 'There's a lady I was talking to who will be joining our table tonight, if that's OK.' 'Who's that?' 'A young widow, Mrs Clark. I don't dare hope that she will catch Lonnie's eye, but it would be wonderful if she did.' 'What is she, a looker?' 'She is. And carries herself like a princess, though she confided to me that she started out on Pluron.' 'On Pissy Pluron?' said Venner. 'Yeah, if you like the term.'
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'Look around, Lonnie boy, that's enough of a kingdom for anybody,' said Venner in the Coconut Lounge as they waited for the ladies to join them. The old passengers, the older, and some newly revivified by therapies and lotions, were seeping into the bar room. There was a frolicsome air, things were back to normal, the ship had resumed her course and the next stop-off was scheduled for such and such a minute on the timetable. There were younger passengers too, naturally, but the Top Hats' following was mostly made up from the greyhairs, and philosophically the pair of them drew strength from seeing them in force. 'Doesn't it sometimes seem as if the Tortuga is one big gated community in the sky? And we're just here to massage the nostalgia of superannuated millionaires?' 'The thought nibbled at me once or twice,' said Lonnie. 'I don't want to knock the audience, because it's on their account that I'm able to enjoy a pleasant lifestyle and at the same time build up a credit score that will allow me to follow my inclinations in a few years. I may even return to Earth.' 'I didn't think you had any inclinations to do anything but sing.' 'Well, yes. What I do is what I do, and singing, to me, is timeless. When I strut the board and pump up the Tunesmith I enter a magical realm. But everybody's got the day-to-day to cope with. You can't warble from dusk to dawn.' 'Not even the humble Trinakian nightingale can do that,' said Venner. Helen came gliding in, wearing a long light-blue dress. With her was a young woman in a similar dress in pink, with a black arm band. 'She's a widow?' said Lonnie. 'She hardly looks old enough to have taken the vows.' 'Life moves fast on Pluron, as her husband found out,' said Venner. 'He had not been shaving very long.' 'Sorry, Lonnie, but Latonia pleaded a headache,' said Helen, as the two girls came into earshot. Venner saw Lonnie's face fall. Helen leaned forward to kiss Venner's cheek. The men had stood to greet the ladies. Helen made the introductions and Lonnie pulled out the chair for Mrs Clark. When the waiter had received their orders and they were all getting into a brace of bottles of black wine from Mobius II that the waiter (a keen fan of the Top Hats) had recommended, Venner said to Mrs Clark, or Reianne as she preferred to be called, 'Is it true that you come from Pluron?' 'It's true,' she said. 'I'm probably the only person aboard who does. I mean, even taking the crew into account, down to the cigarette girls. You can't get far if you come from 'Pitiful Pluron',' she said, quoting the title of a recent holodisc show that had been a huge hit. The young widow's eyes flashed, but then her
glowing smile put everyone at ease. 'Reianne's husband, who was also from her home planet, was a pilot. He made wing-commander at the age of twenty.' 'Yes, in the air force of Lartis Galerian,' said Mrs Clark. 'His Majesty graciously awarded me, as his widow, the honorarium that allows me to cruise the galaxy and distract myself from my loss.' She looked down at the table cloth. What a cute turned-up nose, thought Venner. He was unable to tell whether Lonnie was taking her in or not. Lonnie just sat there playing the perfect gent. 'Of course everybody knows you two fellows,' said Reianne. 'The much-imitated Top Hats.' 'Yes, we were looking at some of our, uh, constituency going by just now,' said Venner with a laugh. The widow hardly seemed to understand at first. Venner waved his thumb leisurely at a table full of older and larger ladies with a fairly decrepit well-heeled and self-satisfied gent or two amongst them. 'Oh, not at all,' protested Reianne. 'You don't have to feel like that. You could swing anywhere, you Top Hats. You hit the groove, man! It's not just the early-to-bed crowd who go for you. I know plenty of teens on Pluron who are big collectors of your bootlegs.' 'What?' said Venner. 'Oh, I was hearing about that from Latonia,' said Lonnie. 'Apparently there have been people secretly recording our sessions, sometimes via the Tunesmith I believe.' 'I don't think you need to see it as a problem,' said the widow. 'It's getting your names out there.' 'I have always said they are great blues men,' said Helen. 'Blues? Really?' said Reianne. ' I always think of them first and foremost as balladeers. Or saloon singers in the mould of the mature Sinatra or Gollax Karlan.' Lonnie, glad as always to sing at the drop of a hat, began to croon 'My One and Only Love' in a fruity baritone, looking at the widow, who gazed right back at him with an enigmatic smile. 'But you were saying, your husband was a pilot,' said Helen. 'You have just come from Pellax, haven't you?' 'Yes, I was beamed aboard from Caram.' 'Is it true what we've heard, that there's uproar and revolution all over Mazarat?' 'I saw some demonstrations that were at first ignored by the government. The King made a speech to parliament but he was challenged by supporters of Tak Vakrovar, who is the big man these days.' 'We've all heard of Vakrovar,' said Lonnie. 'A lot of our followers appreciate the cut of the man's jib.' 'So you're from Earth itself?' said the widow to Lonnie. 'Yes, ma'am.' 'Well, to a lot of people that alone makes you a celebrity. Having just come back from the Other Earth, Pellax, I know you could make a killing there, for one. They lap it up, the same types of song, the show tunes and standards, the Johnny Matthis stint, and so forth, they are all the rage.' 'Your late husband,' said Helen delicately, 'how committed was he to the cause of the King?' 'As committed as to any other job. My husband was a professional flyer of fighters and not a politician. The rights and wrongs didn't concern us.' 'But before you left Caram you saw the demonstrations and could tell what the temper of the people was, yes?' 'Absolutely,' said the young widow. 'Something is rotten all right in the state of Mazarat. There are going to be changes. The King may hold the lid on the pot just so far, but the future I have to believe is with the Patriotic Resurgence.' 'I wouldn't say that too loud, because there are all shades of opinion represented here on board,' said Venner. 'In that case she can say what she likes. Come off it, Ven, we've got free speech here on the Tortuga, if nowhere else,' said Lonnie. 'I've heard reports about the forces mustering, Varkrovar's lot,' said Reianne, 'but the King has brought in mercenaries from all over, guerrilla fighters, special forces, and professionals like Terry.' 'Terry was you husband?' said Venner. 'Yes.' 'May I join you?' said an amiable voice. There stood Hollis Pierpoint with a smile fit to put anyone off their guard. Meanwhile Helen winked at Venner. It was clear that Lonnie was getting along nicely with the widow. 'Was that the Patriotic Resurgence you were talking about?' said Pierpoint. 'I must say I have some sympathy for them and if I were ten years younger I would more than likely enlist under Tak Vakrovar's banner. If they don't come up with a king, Tak will no doubt hold the reins for a while.' In other words, thought Venner to himself, you're another one who has heard I'm debating whether to take the crown. There were several other people present who were not afraid to praise up the romantic-sounding rebels of Pellax. In the midst of a barrage of toasts that were raised in honour of 'Tak Vak' and the Patriotic Resurgence, Latonia Fletcher happened to pass through the Coconut Lounge. She stood transfixed for a moment, seeing Lonnie Pascoe in deep talk with a beautiful woman. The occupants of the table were too wrapped up in their talk to notice Latonia.
By the Time I Get to Pellax Page 19