The City and the Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  "How did you get in here?" Wait a minute. Not only was the hatch locked and dogged, but Rand should have warned me—and the motion sensors should have gone off—and . . .

  He shrugged.

  "The lock was open, I knew you were expecting me, so I came in. Is that a problem?"

  "It was not open. I do take some rudimentary precautions."

  "It wasn't locked down. Not," he added with an annoying smile, "locked down very securely, that is."

  "Yes, it was," she said through clenched teeth.

  He shrugged again, and spread his hands. He was there. Joat felt an overwhelming urge to kick him.

  "Joat," Joseph said before she could speak. "You asked me what had happened to bring me here. Now is the time to discuss the matter."

  "Maybe I should make sure my hatch is locked," she said sullenly.

  "No problem," Bros said, walking around her to swing his lean body into the pilot's chair with authoritative ease. "I took care of it." It was the first time he'd gotten a spontaneous reaction from her and he was feeling a bit smug about it. Then he glanced at the Bethelite seated beside him and grew serious again. To Joseph he said, "You asked for my presence here, excellent sir. I'm most anxious to hear why."

  Joseph took a deep breath; Joat saw that his fingers were white from the pressure of his clasp. Joe was not a man who put his feelings on display like this. Her irritation fell away—not forgotten, but filed.

  "Our prophet, Amos ben Sierra Nueva, left Bethel ten days ago aboard a merchanter ship bound for the SSS-900-C. He did not arrive and the ship has not been heard from or found." Joseph rubbed his chin and looked at Bros. "I think you know why I asked to see you."

  Joat shaped a silent whistle. No wonder Joe had seemed tense under his usual banter.

  Bros nodded. "The Kolnari," he said.

  "You are CenSec's resident expert on . . . them. And this will be an offworld affair. We . . . I am desperate for any help that you can offer. This is our prophet; and he is my brother-of-the-spirit, a bond closer than blood. They have taken him, I am sure. I must find him."

  After a moment Bros leaned forward. "My superiors think I'm paranoid about the Kolnari. You understand me? They think that my information is unreliable, that every time a bandit hijacks a ship I see the Divine Seed. You take my advice, you're taking the risk that evaluation will rub off on you."

  Joseph gave a bitter laugh and shook his head.

  "Your superiors have not met the Kolnari. I have. To be paranoid about them is to be sane. I will trust your advice, Bros Sperin, for I know these devils. Advise me."

  Cautiously, as though probing an open wound, Bros said, "There will be no ransom demand."

  "I know it. If they have him, they will not so easily release him."

  "I was aware of the kidnapping before you asked to see me, excellent sir," Bros said. "Simeon and Channa Hap reported that he hadn't arrived on the day he was overdue." Bros paused for a moment, gazing steadily at Joseph. "Just before I came over here a report reached me that the black box from the Sunwise had been recovered from a field of space debris. The box hasn't been evaluated yet, but the ship that found it reported signs indicating that the engines blew."

  "I have no doubt that they did," Joseph said quietly.

  "But I'd be surprised if that's all the box shows," Bros continued. "Even if there's not a Kolnari in sight, I believe that the Benisur was taken off that vessel either by them or for them. No question."

  "We are agreed then," Joseph said, studying this legendary stranger. "Can you offer any advice? Anything at all."

  "I hope so, excellent sir." Sperin paused. "I'm ashamed to admit it," he continued, "but we haven't caught up with all that many Kolnari since we routed them at the SSS-900-C and at Bethel. They went into hiding, and very effectively too. For quite a while we," he glanced at Joseph, "all of us, thought that perhaps Dr. Chaundra had wrought better than we had any right to hope and that they'd been exterminated by the disease he'd created.

  "Then, gradually, but more and more over the last few years, pirate actions that fit the Kolnari m.o. began to crop up. Objects recorded as being taken in those specific raids suddenly were being offered for sale and we began to trace them back through a trail of legitimate dealers with flexible ethics to downright fences. Most of the time the trail led back to a Station called Rohan and a man named Nomik Ciety."

  He turned to Joat. "This is where you come in," he said and smiled.

  Oh really, she thought, gosh, wow, I feel so privileged. Get out of my chair, blast you! She nodded instead of speaking.

  "Ciety is a notorious fence, a smuggler, a weapons broker. But we've never been able to touch him. Because Rohan, his base of operations, is a free-port, only nominally associated with Central Worlds, we have neither jurisdiction nor power there. In other words, as long as he keeps his nose clean on Rohan and makes his tax payments on time he can do anything, and I mean anything, that he wants to, there.

  "We've sent people to Rohan to check him out, to look for Kolnari activity, to look for loot that we think the Kolnari might have taken. They've disappeared. Every one of them."

  "And this is where I come in?" Joat asked, eyebrows raised.

  Bros rubbed his hand across his upper lip.

  "Exactly. I want you to go to Rohan and look around. I trust your capabilities and you're not known to be connected with Central Worlds Security so you should be in minimal danger. I repeat, I want you to look. Don't confront Ciety, don't troll for loot, don't try to find any Kolnari, just see what's there. You've been around, you'll know what to look for, what stories to listen to. If you see anything suspicious, that is, of a nature to help us with this problem, note it. Do nothing else. Note it and get back to us."

  "Sounds exciting." she said dryly.

  Bros turned the pilot's chair until he was facing Joseph.

  "Excellent sir, this man Ciety is also an information broker. It is possible that, for the right price, he might be willing to supply you with information about this kidnapping. All that I can guarantee you about him is treachery, so if you do approach him, watch your back and don't make payment final until you're well away from Rohan. The man is completely mercenary and if he discovers who you are he would willingly sell you to the Kolnari. It would be wise to make your approach through a third party; the place is rife with professional go-betweens, so finding someone shouldn't be a problem. Of course a major concern in that case would be that you're so obviously a Bethelite that, knowing your desperation for any information, they might inflate their prices at the sight of you and give you next to nothing at all. Or they may decide to mention your curiosity to Ciety, or someone else you don't want to take an interest in you.

  "As Joat is already bound there . . ."

  "I am?" Joat said in mock surprise and earned an arch look from the CenSec agent.

  "I urge you, most strongly, excellent sir, to commission her to act for you while you stay clear of the place altogether." He looked over at Joat, his eyes narrowed. "Amending her mission to accommodate your needs might even improve her chances of finding out what CenSec wants to know. I think she's both clever and discreet enough to be able to handle such a commission. And if she arranges it through a go-between, or better yet, through several of them she might succeed in remaining completely anonymous. That's where I'd advise you to start. Joat can send your information back with her first report to CenSec and I'll relay it to you."

  "Are you aware that I'm in the same room with you, Sperin?" Joat asked.

  Bros gave her an exasperated look, then turned to Joseph and spread his hands. "That's all we can offer at the moment, excellent sir. I'm sorry." Bros dug into his pocket, pulled out a datahedron and handed it to Joat.

  "This is Ciety's dossier. Read it when you can concentrate on it because it will erase itself as it's being read."

  "Well that's useful," Joat muttered.

  "We don't want him to know what we know about him, Joat. And since your security is bare
ly worth mentioning you could hardly expect me to give you a permanent record." He stood. "Are there any questions?"

  "Yup. One, when did I agree to do all this stuff? And two, how much are you offering to pay me for this?" Joat asked.

  "Seventy-four hundred, plus reasonable expenses," Sperin said, ignoring her first question entirely,

  "And to think I passed up a career in CenSec," Joat murmured sarcastically.

  "Seventy-four hundred is considerably more than my salary for this year," Bros said. "Don't you want to help find the Benisur Amos? He is an old friend of your parents."

  "You forgot to appeal to my patriotism," Joat said dryly.

  "I may be a scoundrel, but I'm not down to my last resort quite yet."

  "I was just hoping you could do a little better than that. After all, a trader who goes to Rohan is a little like a virgin taking tea in a whorehouse. It taints your reputation even if you haven't done any business." She smiled sweetly at him. "Expenses to include all fuel and repairs."

  And Flegal, but I am going to repair the dickens out of this ship.

  "All right," he said. "Point taken. On my authority, CenSec will pick up for any expenses and repairs this mission gives rise to." He held out his hand to her.

  She raised her hand, but held it back.

  "I wonder if you might be willing to offer some kind of a bonus, considering that this could be a dangerous mission and that I am, after all, a civilian. Nothing outrageous," she assured him, holding up a denying hand. "You might arrange some trading concessions, for example. There's many a place I'd love to ship to but I can't afford the docking fees. What do you say, Bros? Think we can work something out?"

  Bros put his hands on his hips and studied her through narrowed eyes.

  "Where did you have in mind?"

  "Senalgal?"

  "Get real, Captain."

  "The SSS-900-C?"

  He raised his brows. "I would have thought Simeon . . ."

  "I like to earn my way," she said sharply.

  He nodded slowly. "I can fix it."

  Joat held out her hand and he shook it, surprised at the strength of her grip.

  "You can contact me at The Anvil," he said, "my cover name is Clal va Riguez." He nodded to Joseph, gave a half smile to Joat and was gone.

  Joat turned on a monitor and they watched Sperin leave the Wyal and walk away without a backward glance.

  "He told me he was known at The Anvil as Bros Sperin," she said resentfully.

  "Wheels within wheels," Joseph murmured.

  "Rand," she asked, "did he leave anything behind?"

  "Yes, Joat. On the left arm of your chair, just where the seam is on the front of the arm."

  Joat examined the area Rand had described. Nothing. She pulled out a scanner and flicked it; a framework extended, and she fitted it over her head. Joseph came to her side and pulled a huge, clumsy-looking optical from a pocket in his robe.

  "Got it," she said.

  "Here," Joseph grunted, his words crossing over hers. They smiled at each other.

  He rose from his knees, bowing. "All yours, child."

  "Child, hell." She pulled a toolkit from another pocket and opened it, twiddling her fingers. "Ta-dum."

  It was about the width of a human hair and no longer than the thickness of a fingernail; one end was razor-sharp, to make it easier to implant. Probably it was this large only to allow it to be manipulated easily.

  "Hello, Bros!" Joat said brightly, smiling a toothy smile with the sticktight held at eye level. "Why do I get this feeling that not everything is As It Seems? Anyway, you seem to have forgotten something. I couldn't allow you to waste the taxpayers money like that. Tsk, tsk upon you."

  She opened an envelope and dropped the sticktight into it. "Addressed to Clal va Riguez, The Anvil," she said. The envelope obligingly showed the name on its exterior, and she confirmed it with a pinch that sealed the container. "Deliver." She dropped it into a slot on the console.

  "Oooh," Joat went on to Joseph. "Spy stuff. I wonder how much that little thingie is worth. I wonder how many more there are."

  Joseph still had the optical to his eye; looking at the recording of the sticktight. Bethelite technology wasn't subtle, but it got the job done.

  "Interesting. Passive sensor, I think—burst transmission when keyed."

  "Confirmed," Rand said. "I was only aware of it because I saw Mr. Sperin install it. As for the rest of the ship, nothing seems abnormal, but I can make no guarantees. Mr. Sperin seems a devious man, and we've no idea how long he was actually aboard before he chose to make his presence known."

  "About that," Joat interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me he was onboard?"

  "The first I knew of it was when he appeared on the bridge, Joat."

  "But how could he do that?" she demanded.

  "I suppose that CenSec has been extrapolating from your design," Rand said, "and they've come up with a superior version."

  Joat bristled and her eyes sparked with fury. "Not for long, they haven't," she growled.

  "In any event," Rand continued, "if he's left something behind I can't find it until it's contacted by an external signal."

  "Don't worry about it, Rand. It's not your fault." If anything, she thought, it's mine for becoming so complacent. Or so honest. Joat shrugged. "I think it's safe to assume he'd leave his best stuff on the bridge. That's where we'll be most of the time, after all."

  She picked up the bottle of Arrack and freshened both of their drinks.

  "Disappointed?" she asked.

  Joseph grimaced slightly.

  "I am more annoyed than disappointed. Why I do not know. I certainly did not expect Central Worlds to charge to the rescue with banners flying. But I expected . . ."

  "More than to be told to go home and wait for word from us big important people?"

  "Yes!" he said firmly.

  "You expected to be treated as a professional equal who doesn't need obvious instructions on how to behave in a hostile port?"

  "Yes!"

  "More importantly, you were hoping to receive some offer of backup from Central Worlds if you do find out who has Amos and where they've taken him."

  Joseph tossed back the rest of the Arrack in his glass and looked at her.

  "Without the aid of the Central Worlds Navy there would be little that we could do. If they are unwilling to help us, or if they delay, then my brother will die." He laughed in self mockery and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Ah, Joat, I had hoped for hope."

  Joat grinned at him. "All that regular living has made you soft, Joe. You don't need hope, you need luck . . ."

  " . . . and you make your own luck!" they recited together, they clicked glasses and laughed.

  She folded her arms and leaned her hip against her main console. Her eyes went over the readouts, registering automatically without interrupting the flow of thought

  "We're fueled, we're set for supplies; as soon as my crew gets back we can cast off. So if you've got gear you'd better go and fetch it now."

  Joseph grinned wickedly at her and indicated the small bag at his feet. "That is all that I have, Joat. But I must say that I do not think Mr. Sperin would approve of this invitation. I do not believe that he wished me to go to Rohan."

  "Hunh, by the time he was finished talking I wasn't sure he wanted me to go! Pushy osco, ain't he?"

  "Perhaps he wanted to go himself," offered Rand. "He had the overtones, if I may say so, of a man stretching his instructions to the limit."

  Joat and Joseph exchanged glances.

  "Y'know Rand, I believe you've hit the nail on the head," Joat murmured.

  * * *

  With a soft hiss of breath Amos completed the final movement of the seven hundred and fifty separate steps of the Sword Dance of Natham. He stood upright, panting slightly, sweat running freely down his bare, muscled sides.

  The dance helped to center him, to stave off rage and panic, as well as wearing him out so that he could sleep. He had
just repeated it twice in succession, once slowly, once very fast.

  Now he wished that he could be clean. But the Kolnari brig did not include such amenities as a shower. There was a small sink, however and he went over to it intending to do the best he could.

  The cell was small, perhaps two meters by three with double-decker bunks that folded down from the wall, the sink and a commode for furnishings. The walls, ceiling, and floor were of cold, white enameled metal and the light never went out.

  The food was neither good nor bad, but bland, soldier's rations, in reasonable quantity, delivered at unpredictable intervals.

  Were he a man who could find no comfort in his God, Amos knew that he would be howling and beating on the door by now. He smiled grimly. The Kolnari couldn't know that a severe religious retreat could be very like this. There would be better facilities for cleaning oneself, and books, and the light would be under his control, but otherwise there were strong similarities. With the obvious exception, of course, that he could end a religious retreat at will. Assuming that God willed it so.

  He sighed and turned on the faucet. No water came.

  How petty, he thought, Belazir must be finding me boring.

  He sat on his bunk and turned his palms upward to begin meditating on the devotions of the prophets. That would fill his time both pleasantly and well, since there were over eight thousand of them.

  The hatch swung open and two figures in black space armor violently flung Captain Sung into the room. Amos leapt to his feet and caught the older man before he could crash to the floor. By the time he had the Captain righted on his feet the cell was sealed once more.

  "Captain," Amos said in astonishment. "What of Soamosa? Have you seen her, have they told you anything?"

  The Captain's face was badly bruised and he was shaking with reaction.

  "I thought they were gonna space me," he said and shuddered. "I knew they couldn't get a ransom for me, they already took everything I ever had. I thought they were going to vent me with the rest of the garbage."

  Amos put an arm around the older man and guided him to the bunk.

  "I would give you water if I could," he said, "but they have turned it off." He paused for a moment. "Captain," he said softly and waited until the other man looked at him. "Soamosa, do you know anything about her?'