Young Rissa

by F. M. Busby

  They came closer; Rissa saw more details. For a hundred meters around Inconnu the ground was empty, and most of those who stood closest were armed. And ship’s ramps were up and sealed.

  Above the control panel a speaker came to noisy life. The sound was distorted but Rissa recognized Tregare’s voice. “You in the aircar — what you think you’re trying to pull? Clear off or I’ll shoot you down. And you, Bleeker — I thought you had better sense. Call off your pipsqueak Air Force — and damned fast!”

  Through a different speaker another voice sputtered. Under his breath, Hawkman muttered, “That’s Alsen Bleeker.” Going no closer, he turned the aircar to circle the ship.

  Bleeker’s voice came more clearly. “Tregare! It’s not mine, that air-car — I swear it isn’t! I don’t know anything about it — I’ve been right here, the past six hours since you closed your ship. All I want is my money, you pirate!”

  “You got it — exactly as agreed, beforehand.”

  “I told you, prices went up — it’s not my fault.”

  “Your prices always go up — that’s an old groundhog trick. And like it or not, most ships have to pay. But not Inconnu!”

  “If you want fuel, you’ll pay.”

  Tregare laughed. “I refueled first off; didn’t you know? That’s an old spacer trick. Sign off, Bleeker — I’m done with you.” His voice rose. “Now, you — the aircar! Who are you? What’s your business?”

  Rissa whispered “Please!” and took the handset. “Tregare! It is I — Tari Obrigo. I must talk with you.”

  “Too late, Tari — no time. Bleeker’ll be programming the defense missiles on me; I’ve got to lift. Glad you came, though. See you someday.”

  “Wait! Your father is here — he brought me.”

  “Hawkman? Sorry, but for him it’s years too late — all the years since they left me in that UET hellhole.”

  She looked to Hawkman, but he said nothing. “They could not help it — they had no choice! And they — they love you — they want to see you!”

  “The pirate, the mutineer — in Hulzein Lodge? I doubt it.”

  Hawkman took the handset. “Bran Tregare, the girl speaks truth. And she thinks enough of you that she would have come here against Liesel’s command.”

  “She’s quite a girl, Hawkman. See that you treat her right.”

  Hawkman’s eyebrows rose. Rissa shook her head; he said only, “Yes — but, son, we miss you. Are we ever to see you again?”

  When Tregare spoke, his voice was low. “I’ll think about it. Next time, maybe.”

  “And how long until then, Bran? Will your mother live to see that time?”

  “I — I hope so.” Rissa heard another voice; then Tregare said, briskly now, “Liftoff coming — sixty seconds and counting. Scoot that car hard and fast, Hawkman — this lift is going to make waves — not like the time with you, Tari.” Hawkman turned the car and accelerated toward the town. They heard Tregare, faintly, speaking to someone else. Then, after a pause, “Good-bye, Hawkman — Tari. And the message I sent the family — make that warm regards.”

  “Not — not love?” she said.

  “In person, maybe — we’ll see. Tregare out.” And the ship lifted.

  Tregare had not exaggerated. Looking back Rissa saw people, lying flat for safety, rolled along the ground by the great blast. The ship still aground rocked and almost fell. When the shock wave reached the aircar they felt a mighty buffet, and Hawkman was busy fighting the controls. Then Inconnu was gone and the air quieted.

  “Thanks for trying, Rissa. If it hadn’t been for that bloodsucking Bleeker, maybe . . .” Then he smiled. “Well, at least the boy spoke to me.”

  “Yes.” But her thought was elsewhere. “Hawkman? Now we know more about Tregare’s reputation, do we not? He is called ‘pirate’ because he refuses to be made victim.”

  “Eh? Oh, yes — we’d suspected that much, knowing what some traders do to ships that can’t fight. The Hulzeins, by the way, don’t follow that practice — we charge what the market will bear, but once agreed, the price is firm.” After a succession of turns that mystified Rissa, Hawkman descended beside a large green building and landed. He turned to her. “You may have stirred up local politics a bit today. I expected it, as soon as I saw you’d have no chance for private speech with Bran Tregare — and you’ll notice I didn’t try to stop you from saying what you did.”

  “I do not know what you mean, Hawkman.”

  “It’s only that until now no one on this planet — outside the Lodge — knew that Tregare is a Hulzein.” He laughed. “But don’t worry about it — we’ve had storms before. We weather them.”

  Inside the building, an elevator took them to the top floor. The office they entered occupied a full quarter of that floor; its large windows faced the Big Hills on one side and the town on the other. The plain, tinted metal walls were hung with pictures of varied scenic views. Behind a desk, a tall, heavily built woman stood to meet them.

  “Hawkman Moray.” She shook his hand and turned to take Rissa’s. “I’m Arni Gustafson.”

  “Tari Obrigo.”

  The woman frowned. Rissa eyed her — squarish face, thick brown hair cut in a full bang to the eyebrows, then straight around below the ears. Finally; “Oh yes — that one. Hawkman? Are you here to claim Hulzein protection for her, against dal Nardo?”

  “Not by blood or marriage, but she is a connection. However, I merely brought her here to speak with you.”

  “I see. Her status means he can’t hire her death without Hulzein retaliation. I’ll tell him.”

  She spoke again to Rissa. “How in this world did you manage to begin your stay here by rousing Stagon’s bloodthirst? I’d have guessed you more apt to rouse him in other ways.”

  “He made stupid threats; instead of cowering, I returned his fire in kind. Nothing more — except that others were present and saw.”

  The woman sat again, gesturing toward a chair. Rissa seated herself; Hawkman moved to do so but Arni Gustafson said, “Your pardon, Hawkman — would you please wait in the lounge across the way? I’d like to speak with her alone,” Her hand moved at her desk console; at the upper end of hearing range Rissa heard a thin hum. Hawkman, at the door, turned with a worried look. Rissa smiled and nodded to him, and he left.

  She knew that hum; Erika had also used truth fields. The ultrasonic waves that scanned her would report her reactions on the console.

  She would, she thought, have to be very careful what she said.

  “Have you come,” said Gustafson, “because I’m in authority over dal Nardo? If so, it’s a waste of time. I have no say-so in his private life; I can’t stop him from killing you.”

  “I knew that. My question is this — when I kill him, will there be any retaliation from your agency?”

  “When?” The woman stared at the console, looked puzzled and shook her head. “You mean that, don’t you?” Rissa kept silent. “Yes, you do, all right. Well, then — the answer’s no. I don’t want Stagon killed — I don’t like him, but he’s capable, and about as honest as the next. If he dies, I’ll be briefly inconvenienced. But how he dies — as with how he lives — is none of my business.”

  “Good. Thank you, Ms. Gustafson. That is all I need to know.”

  “Wait — sit back down — I want to know a few things. First — what is zombie gas?”

  “I — I have never seen it used.” So far, so good. “From the name, I assume it would render the victim subject to the will of another, without the normal ego defenses.”

  “And you’re immunized against it?”

  “It cannot harm me.”

  “You intended to use it on dal Nardo?”

  “I intended to do whatever was needed to escape his threats.”

  “Young woman, I don’t like the idea of you running around in my jurisdiction with something like that. Where do you carry the stuff — in a pocket? A piece of jewelry?”

  “I cannot show you.” Sensing annoyance
, Rissa added, “I mean, I have none with me. On a world where no one is immunized, it seems to me that it would be irresponsible to use such a thing — except in extreme emergency.”

  The older woman scowled at her console and shook her head. “There’s something,” she muttered, “but it’s not clear.” She looked up. “You’ve breached no law — yet — so I can’t slip you a babble pill to get at whatever you’re talking your way around. So I’ll try it another way. What’s your attitude toward dal Nardo? And does it include anyone else?”

  “Dal Nardo intends me dead. Now it seems he must do it himself. My only alternative, I am told, is to kill him instead — so if I must, I must. As to others, I mean no harm to any who mean none to me.” After a moment, she smiled. “Is that good enough?”

  “Better than most. All right — I guess you pass. I must say, your attitudes don’t fit dal Nardo’s description.”

  “You did not try to treat me as he did.”

  “No — he’s one of a kind. Let me give you some advice. If you went and apologized to him, he might — just might — settle for first blood or first mutilation rather than death. If he doesn’t, you haven’t lost anything.”

  Rissa shook her head. “I would lose something very important to me. But I will give him the chance to apologize, if he wishes.”

  “Tari Obrigo, you’re a hopeless case! Well, I’m glad to have met you, and truly sorry it’s probably the last time.”

  “Thank you — but I expect you will see me again, after all.”

  Until they left the building, Hawkman said nothing. Then; “Any problems?”

  “Not really. Dal Nardo’s death is his own business. And I hear well at the high end of the range — I knew when she turned the truth field on. Then I needed to plan quite carefully each word I said.”

  “I had the hunch that you’re hiding something — but for the life of me I can’t guess it. Well, I won’t pry.”

  “I — it is only that — “ Then in a burst of frankness she told him of her impromptu invention and dal Nardo’s reaction. “But if his aides have spread the story, you see? It might be useful another time.”

  He laughed. “It might, at that. Well — do you want to see dal Nardo now, or have some lunch first?”

  “I could not eat. I confess — my stomach is tight within me. Let it be dal Nardo.”

  “I don’t blame you. All right, it’s a short hop — or would you rather walk? You can see the building from here.” He pointed; she recognized it.

  “Let us walk. The exercise will loosen my nerves and muscles.”

  They walked into the Provost’s office without knocking or announcement. Hawkman said, “You know me, dal Nardo. You also know Tari Obrigo. I’m here to inform you that she is a Hulzein connection, though not of blood or marriage — so you can’t set a hired duelist on her without answering for it. That’s my message; from now on I merely observe the formalities.”

  Dal Nardo’s heavy cheeks flushed; he drew breath, but as the cold lump at Rissa’s stomach dissolved into heat, she spoke. “Since Hawkman is not immunized, you may feel free today to threaten me all you like. But there is no need for threats. I have an offer for you — and if you refuse it, another.”

  “If you offer to lie down, be buried, and let me plant frost grain over you, I accept. But don’t think to placate me with an apology.”

  “I had no such thought. My first offer is to accept an apology from you — a courteous one, judged suitable by Hawkman Moray — and leave here and disturb you no further.”

  The man shook his head and smiled broadly. “I’m fascinated; I’ve never heard such long-winded fertilizer.”

  “Well. So much for that one. My second offer is this: I challenge you.”

  “You challenge me? Ah, I see — for first blood or some such trifle, to avoid my own challenge. A silly trick — I refuse it.”

  “You mistake me, dal Nardo. I challenge to the death, unless you make plea for lesser terms.”

  Again he shook his head. “There is some deception here.”

  Hawkman spoke. “There’s none. I’m here to see to that.”

  “This girl challenges me to the death? You say that, Moray?”

  “She says it. Talk to her, not to me.”

  “Then I accept — I accept! And if you think you have some advantage with a new weapon, let me tell you that only weapons familiar to this world are allowed.” He shrugged. “As for me, I prefer to use none at all.”

  “That is good,” said Rissa. “For that is my choice also.”

  “You want to die — I knew you must be crazy, to insult me in my own place.”

  “Stay with business; I am not yet done.”

  “Ah, I see it — you’ll specify protective suits. They won’t — ”

  “No, dal Nardo — we will fight nude. No weapons, no suits — only ourselves.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It won’t work, what you’re thinking.”

  She laughed. “If you knew what I am thinking, you would make the apology I asked.”

  “Oh, no — you don’t have — never mind. When do we meet?”

  “Our seconds decide that, I believe. Hawkman — will you represent me and help choose suitable officals?” He nodded. “Then name your own seconds, dal Nardo; have them call Hawkman and arrange terms.” She looked into the man’s eyes; his gaze was equally fixed upon her. “All right,” she said. “We are finished here; I will next see you when and where it is agreed.” She turned away. “Shall we go, Hawkman?”

  “Good-bye, fertilizer,” said Stagon dal Nardo.

  She looked around and said, “It is well for the planet’s soil that you are so much larger than I.”

  The door closing behind them muffled dal Nardo’s retort. Rissa took Hawkman’s arm and said, “You mentioned lunch? I have truly worked up an appetite!”

  The restaurant was high-ceilinged and drafty. “The food’s plain here,” said Hawkman, “but good. Or it had better be — we own the place.”

  Rissa smiled. “After eleven years of Welfare food, I am hardly a gourmet. Even Erika could not train my tastes so quickly. If food is fresh and flavorful, I like it.”

  Hawkman ordered for them; she did not recognize his choices by name, but when the food arrived, its tastes lived up to its aromas. She fed until sated and still could not clean her platter.

  “It was good, Hawkman.”

  He grinned. “The way you picked at your food, I’d never have guessed.” Then, sobering; “About dal Nardo — are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “I am building a plan into my mind so that I will perform it mechanically. It is flexible, with alternatives for moves that fail. More than that I cannot do. But I think my plan will suffice.”

  “But he’s so damned powerful! And faster than you’d think.”

  “Let my adrenaline subside, Hawkman — it serves no purpose now and might hamper digestion of this excellent meal. But I will say this — on Earth, combat techniques have improved from what dal Nardo could have been taught here. How many years’ advantage I have of him in that way, I cannot know — but there will be some. Also, for physical combat, he would do well to carry less belly.”

  “Don’t count on — no, you’re right — let’s change the subject.” He poured wine and told her of the city. “Population’s well into six figures — nearly a fifth of the planet’s total. Do you know why it’s called One Point One? I guess you’d have to have been here.”

  She thought. “No — I see it — the planet, Number One. The town, One Point One. Named, after all, by officers of Escaped Ships — with mathematical orientation and, it seems, a sense of humor.”

  “I wish more of that humor survived among the colonists.”

  She moved the glass in her hands, swirling the wine gently and watching the light it refracted. “Yes — your world is as much cutthroat as Earth, in some aspects. Are we humans good for no other way?”

  “I don’t know; competition seems to be our middle n
ame. That’s not all bad — but we don’t seem to know where to stop. Well, what more would you like to know about our city?”

  From the air, she had noticed that One Point One was loosely patterned, with areas of open ground scattered throughout. Now she learned that here was the planet’s only major star base, the one port capable of fully servicing interstellar ships. “So that’s why Hulzein Lodge is where it is,” said Hawkman. “Quite a distance from our major landholdings. And — ”

  She waved a hand. “Thank you, Hawkman — but I am as filled with facts as with food — and need time to digest both.”

  “All right. Let’s go — we’ll take your gear to where you’ll be staying.”

  The sign on the squat beige building read “Maison Renalle.” Hawkman said, “It’s not tops for luxury, but it’s secure. The guard system’s unobtrusive but effective. And the only bugged rooms — except for security monitor — are the ones Liesel’s arranged specially, to plant suspicious characters in.”

  “Thank you for the warning. I will be most discreet.”

  “You? But — “ Then he saw she was laughing, silently. “Your character is not merely suspicious, Rissa — sometimes, as now, it’s downright disreputable.

  “No — “ He waved a hand. “I challenge you — to lunch again, next time I’m in town.”

  Now she laughed aloud. “Hawkman, you are good for me.” She turned to him. “You are like — well, younger than my father whom I lost, and older than my brother who was destroyed — but somehow both of them. I am very glad to have come to know you.”

  He would have spoken but she shook her head. “Let us go in now.”

  Her room, not large, had an air of comfort — and even more, of safety. Her window, facing the Big Hills, looked thick enough to stop bullets. And she knew that the slanted metal flecks within it, that slightly hazed her view, would briefly diffuse a laser beam. The door, though it moved easily, was massive; the room’s facilities were self-contained. Knowing Hulzein thoroughness, she trusted the thickness and composition of the walls.

  “Notice the viewscreen terminal?” Hawkman said. “The red-inblue button gives direct communication to the Lodge. On scramble; it can’t be tapped.”