Lord of Janissaries

by Jerry Pournelle

  “So have I. Well, let us get to it, then.”

  They reached the top of the knoll together. Rick pulled back the dark shutter from his candle lantern. He could see Parsons grin as he sat down.

  “I must say I am completely surprised,” Parsons said. “I suppose I should have suspected when I heard that hill tribesmen had won a great victory over the Roman legions, but I did not.” He took a flask from his belt. “Wine?”

  “Later—”

  Parsons’ laugh was a low, mocking sound. “Ah. Me first.” He tilted up the flask and drank. “Are you certain you will not join me?”

  “I have my own,” Rick said. “I was about to offer you some. Share mine?”

  “Perhaps it is better if we each keep our own,” Parsons said. “That way there is no suspicion.” His voice hardened and took on a more serious note. “Why have you asked me to meet you? Do you wish to surrender your army?”

  “No. I came to tell you things you don’t know. First thing: have you listened to the local legends? About caves, and fire from the sky?”

  “No.”

  “I thought not. But you do know about the caves.”

  “I know there are caves beneath many of the castles,” Parsons said. “They are important in the local religions. My friend Sarakos was very unhappy that he could think of no way to enter those under one of his castles. He would like me to help him cope with the ammonia, but I have better things to do.”

  “You’d better learn about the caves,” Rick said. “That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you. If I lose this battle tomorrow—”

  Parsons laughed.

  “I said ‘if,’ and I meant ‘if’,” Rick said. “We’ll get to that later. But if you win, you’ll need to know about the caves. You’ll need them for fallout shelters.”

  “I fear you make little sense—”

  “Listen.” Rick told him of his deductions about the fate of the 1400 expedition, and Gwen’s suspicions. He was careful to be certain that Elliot heard the story as well as Parsons.

  “Interesting. I do thank you,” Parsons said. He sounded very thoughtful.

  “Of course that may not matter to you,” Rick said. “I understand you won’t be able to raise the surinomaz for the Shalnuksis.” He laughed. “You said I didn’t have enough experience to accomplish the mission, but I seem to have a bigger and better army than you do. And there’s no guerrilla war where I live. So who’s so damned efficient now?”

  “That is unkind of you,” Parsons said.

  “My apologies. But you see, that surinomaz crop is more important than you know. A lot more.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Gwen. Remember her? The pilot’s girlfriend. She found out a lot about the people who brought us here. There’s a lot going on up there.” He pointed to the bright stars and their strange constellations.

  “You have not told me why this surinomaz is important.”

  “I don’t know that I can trust you,” Rick said. “It involves a lot of people. Including some back on Earth. But assume I’m lying. It’s still important to you. Without that crop, you won’t be getting any juicy trade goods from the Shalnuksis. In fact, André, just what are you accomplishing with your superior skills and experience?”

  “Is there any point to this conversation?” Parsons demanded.

  “Certainly. I hope to persuade you to join us,” Rick said.

  Parsons laughed.

  “Why not?” Rick asked. “Together we can grow those crops and trade with the Shalnuksis. We might even be able to capture a starship and get the hell off this planet! If we work together.

  “Or we can go on fighting, and no matter who wins we both lose. You aren’t going to grow that crop. Sarakos can’t even feed his army! The people here will never stop fighting as long as he’s here. But you must know already that we’ve been welcomed as liberators. My alliance is with the legitimate king, and I’ve got most of the nobility as well. I can get crops planted and harvested. You can’t.

  “Come over to our side, and you’ll have an honored place. Wealth and influence, and you won’t have to fight all the time. We both win. Fight me, and we both lose.”

  “So,” Parsons said. “You are persuasive, if over confident. And yet I wonder. I have been thinking since I received your letter, what is it that you can do? Gunpowder? Muskets? I think you have not had enough time. Hand grenades? Undoubtedly, and catapult bombs as well. Tell me, what range do you get with them?”

  “Enough. And I have a lot of them,” Rick said. “André, for God’s sake, let’s end this damned war here and now. Can’t you see it’s better if we work together?”

  “I see that you are the cause of my troubles,” Parsons said. “The guerrilla war—”

  “That was spontaneous,” Rick said.

  “I do not believe you. Without you the resistance will collapse, and in the morning we will destroy this barbarous army of yours.” He smiled thinly. “What makes you think I will share power with you and your hill clans?”

  “You share with Sarakos—”

  “For the moment. I need him. But that will not be forever.”

  “André, you’ve gone crazy,” Rick said. “What do you want?”

  “What I said I wanted before we left the Moon,” Parsons said. “To be a king. And I do not think you can offer that. Rick, you are a fool. Without you, your cause collapses. I will have your army as well as my own.” His hand darted under his jacket.

  It seemed to Rick that everything moved in slow motion. Parsons’ hand reached his pistol, and Rick threw himself violently aside, his hand scrabbling for his own weapon.

  Then there was a shout. “No! Dammit, no!” Elliot’s shout startled Parsons so that he fumbled his draw, but Rick was still too slow. He had the .45 in his hand, and the safety off, but before he could swing it around to point at Parsons, André’s own weapon was lining up with Rick’s head—

  There were three shots very close up. Rick’s ears rang with the muzzle blast. He heard shouting, but it was incomprehensible through the ringing in his ears. Gradually he realized that he was still alive, and that he felt no shock or pain.

  André Parsons fell heavily. His face held a look of total surprise. “My honorable young friend—” he gasped. Whatever else he was going to say never got out.

  “Take it easy,” Sergeant Elliot was saying in the Tran dialect. “We surrender.” Elliot held his empty hands high, and after a moment Bisso did the same.

  “What happened?” Rick asked. “Who—”

  “I tried to stop him myself,” Elliot said. “I already made one mistake about you, Captain. I didn’t want to let Colonel Parsons make another. But he was too fast. I didn’t even draw. It was your girlfriend there.” He pointed to Tylara. She sat motionless, still holding Mason’s pistol in both hands in the approved military grip. One of the baggy sleeves of her cloak was charred, and wisps of smoke rose from where she had shot through it.

  * * *

  Mason came up the hill moments later. “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yes—” Rick’s ears still rang. Tylara had been no more than a foot behind him when she fired. His head was clearing, but it seemed to be a long time doing it. Tylara seemed dazed as well. And now here was Mason. “Where did you come from?” Rick demanded.

  “Out there,” Mason said. “I did a little scouting in case Parsons brought a sniper. Nobody around just at the moment, but after those shots there will be. We’d better get going. How you doing, Sarge?”

  “Just what is going on?” Rick asked.

  “Hell, Cap’n, I wasn’t going to let you come out here by yourself,” Mason said. “Figured I’d be more use out where they couldn’t see me. Only you had to pick a place I couldn’t get close enough to! Good thing Tylara thought of borrowing my pistol. She’s been taking lessons dry-firing that thing for weeks now. Cap’n, we really had better get going.”

  “All right.” He got up and felt himself swaying until Elliot stead
ied him with a hand on his shoulder. “Tylara—”

  She got up slowly. She kept the pistol in her hand, but she was careful not to point it at anyone. “I had not known,” she said softly. “I did not intend to—shoot—but once.”

  “They’ll do that,” Mason said. “Come on, I hear people comin’ from both directions. You move out—I’ll hang back and discourage visitors.” He patted the H&K battle rifle affectionately.

  “What now, Elliot?” Rick asked.

  “We’ll accept your offer,” Elliot said. “If it’s still open.”

  “It’s open,” Rick said. “But it won’t be for long.” He looked at his watch. “You have no more than two hours to get back to the village and bring any men who want to come. Bisso will stay with me.”

  “Yes, sir,” Elliot said. “Two hours.” He stood awkwardly for a moment, obviously fumbling for words. “I’m not much for apologies,” he said. “I thought I was doing the right thing back when we first landed. Now—”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” Rick said. “Just get back with the men. Leave equipment if you have to, but bring the men and what you can carry. Two hours.”

  “Yes, sir. Two hours.”

  Forty minutes after Elliot brought a dozen men and the light machine-gun to Rick’s pavilion, the gunpowder exploded.

  EPILOGUE

  Tylara looked down from the battlements of Castle Dravan with satisfaction. The last remnants of Sarakos’ siege works had been removed, leveled over. They were gone without trace. Dravan stood strong again.

  It would need to be. Sarakos was dead—had that been his body in the silken robes? The gunpowder bomb had obliterated the face. Whoever that was, Sarakos had died; and with neither king nor starmen to lead them, his armies had dissolved at a touch from Rick’s pikemen and archers. Drantos was free, but there were rumors of war from the north, and more than rumors of invasions from displaced tribes to the south.

  The Demon Star stood brightly above the horizon, visible even at high noon. She thought she could already feel its warmth. The Time was coming, and there were myriads of details for the attention of the Eqeta and Eqetassa of Chelm. She turned away from the battlements to where Rick and Gwen stood, and she smiled faintly. Rick was sending Gwen away. She need no longer fear what her husband might feel for his countrywoman.

  * * *

  “They can’t expect a crop for another year,” Gwen said. “The invader star won’t be bright enough. Are you sure you won’t need me here?”

  Rick shook his head. “I’ll manage. Tylara doesn’t like having you around anyway—”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “But the main thing is to start the university as soon as possible. You’ll have Warner and Campbell, and I’ll send you McCleve as soon as he’s finished his work on a tetanus inoculation.”

  The medical sergeant had already developed a smallpox vaccination, and was teaching anatomy to some of Yanulf’s acolytes. That knowledge would soon be spread too far for the Shalnuksis to eradicate even with atom bombs.

  “I wish you didn’t have to stay here,” Gwen said. “Not—Tylara has nothing to be jealous of. But there’s so much to do.”

  “I’ll come by for visits,” Rick said. “I want to keep an eye on Marselius. He’s keeping the peace so far, but you never know. I confess I envy you. A tranquil university life looks pretty tempting compared to what we’ll have to do here.”

  More detail. Fields to be cleared for the surinomaz. Careful planning of the cultivation area so that the population could quickly take refuge in caves. The caves to be stocked with food, and more fields to be plowed with the newly designed plowshares. And always the threat of wars—

  Tylara came to join them. Rick took her hand and stood close to her. Living with her was like having a dozen wives: one moment she could command armies, but in the next she would be shy and seem helpless. At the moment she wore armor and looked very much the warrior aristocrat.

  They’d been married two months, and he understood her less now than he had when they first met. There was only one certainty: he couldn’t imagine living without her.

  Well, one other certainty. Gwen’s leaving couldn’t hurt. The Chinese ideograph for “trouble” was a stick drawing of two women under one roof, and the last months had shown the truth of that.

  “Before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Rick said to Gwen. “You might not want to tell me. You once mentioned that Les had a message for his child. I’d like to hear it.”

  “All right,” Gwen said. “It wasn’t long. He said he wanted his child to know this much: that his father believes that the human race has a greater destiny than to be the slave soldiers of a so-called civilization preening itself over remaining unchanged for five thousand years.” She looked up at the Demon Star. “I hope he was right.”

  “Damned right he was,” Rick said. “Even if Les can’t come back with his textbooks and a ship. All we need is time, and we’ll have that. We’ll have six hundred years. It didn’t take Earth half that long to go from the steam engine to the space shuttle. We’ll do it in a generation because we start with more.”

  Gwen nodded agreement. “A lot more. And we know starships are possible.”

  “Yes. That does help. You go start your university, and I’ll deal with the Shalnuksis. One way or another, your child will inherit the stars.”

  “Our children,” Tylara said.

  TRAN

  JERRY POURNELLE

  ROLAND J. GREEN

  A POLITICAL GLOSSARY

  THE GALACTICS

  The Galactic Confederation is a loose federation of non-human races, governing Earth’s region of the spiral arm of our Galaxy. Its member races include the Shalnuksis, the Ader’at’eel, the Fusttael, and the Finsit’tuvii. The Council is the supreme governing body of the Confederation; the High Commission is a subordinate body, in charge of relations with non-member races, particularly humans.

  TRAN

  The Five Kingdoms is a confederation of northern kingdoms (including Ta-Meltemos, Ta-Lataos, and Ta-Kartos) under a High Rexja.

  Drantos is an independent kingdom under its own Wanax, although it has been claimed by both Rome and the Five Kingdoms. Chelm is part of Drantos.

  Rome is a (self-proclaimed) empire, descended from Romans of the time of Septimius Severus (c. 200 a.d.) brought to Tran by the Shalnuksis.

  The City-States are an array of independent cities lying south of Drantos and south-west of Rome. Their most prominent members are Vis and Rustengo.

  The Sunlands is the general term for everything south of the City-States.

  The Westmen are nomadic horse barbarians from beyond the High Plains, ultimately descended from Scythians.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE GALACTICS

  Inspector Agzaral—Confederation High Commission law enforcement officer.

  Jehna Sae Leern—Courier for the Ader’at’eel.

  Karreeel—Shalnuksi merchant, in the Tran trade.

  Les—Human pilot in Shalnuksi service; Gwen Tremaine’s husband.

  Wilno—Retired Confederate naval officer, classmate of Agzaral.

  THE STARMEN

  Private Jack Beazeley—Mason’s right-hand man.

  Sergeant Harold Bisso—Elliot’s right-hand man.

  Private Alexander Boyd—Gengrich’s chief of staff.

  Sergeant Willian Campbell—Professor of Engineering at the University.

  Private Lance Clavell—Rick Galloway’s ambassador to Nikeis.

  Sergeant Major Rafael Elliot—Top kick of the mercs; Provost of the University.

  Rick Galloway—Captain, U.S.A.; Colonel of Mercenaries, Eqeta of Chelm, Captain General of Drantos, War Leader of Tamaerthon.

  Corporal Arnold Gengrich—Leader of mutinous mercs; Lord of Zyphron.

  Private Alan MacAllister—Expert sniper.

  Sergeant John McCleve—Medic; Professor of Medicine at the University.

  Major Art Mason—Ric
k’s right-hand man; Marshal of the Captain General’s Household.

  Sergeant Ben Murphy—Bheroman of Westrook.

  Private First Class Arkos Passavopolous—“The Great Ark”; machine-gunner.

  Private Lafferty Reznick—Murphy’s partner.

  Corporal Mortimer Schultz—Master of Foot in Rustengo.

  Gwen Tremaine—Rector of the University.

  Corporal Jerzy Walinski—Balloon crewman.

  Warrant Officer Larry Warner—Chancellor of the University.

  THE ALLIANCE

  Ajacias—Bheroman of Drantos, in the Sutmarg.

  Apelles, son of Lykon—Priest of Yatar.

  Balquhain—Drumold’s son and heir.

  Camithon—Lord Protector to Ganton until the young Wanax reaches his majority.

  Corgarff—Subchief to Dughuilas.

  Caradoc—A lord of Clan Tamaerthan; rescuer of Tylara from Sarakos in Janissaries.