The Fleet of Stars

by Poul Anderson

  "Good thing I paid attention to this kind of spot,"

  Fenn panted. "Defensible, more or less. If we tried to run away across the slopes, they could pick us off. But we've got to stack as much stuff as we can across the entrance." He stooped and began collecting rocks.

  She stood for a moment above him, bewildered. He heard the shock, no, the pain in her. "Pick us off—shoot at us? No. Can't be. What do they want?"

  "Our plane and robot. The outlaws don't have a lot of equipment left, do they?" He flung stones down hard enough that he almost imagined he heard the clatter. "And maybe they want more than that."

  When she still remained motionless, which wasn't like her, he straightened. Horror rode her face, staring eyes, flared nostrils, rapidly gasping mouth. Yes, he realized, she knows what happened to the caravan guards in Tharsis. He clasped her shoulders. "Don't be afraid," he growled. "They won't get it. I don't propose they get a flapping thing."

  She shuddered once, took a long breath, gave him back his gaze, and said softly, "Thank you, trouvour." Thereafter she got busy raising their barricade.

  He didn't immediately. Instead, he directed the robot, "Transmit long-range for constabulary attention: 'Kinna Ronay and Fenn in distress. Urgently need help. We're trapped on Pavonis Mons by a gang of Inrai. They are armed and dangerous. Four of them. Come prepared to fight. We're making ready to defend ourselves about a klick northeast and upward of where our flitter sits. There's no room to set down another anywhere nearby. The location is—' " He rattled off the coordinates. He had stowed them in his memory before starting off afoot.

  "Well done," Kinna said. "Half an hour, maybe, for a team to get here. We have a good rescue service on Mars."

  He pitched back into the work. "Longer than that, I'm afraid. What use are a few unarmed paramedic mountaineers? They'd only get killed or taken hostage. I wouldn't bet on the regular police either. Not out of the Threedom. They've spent too many generations there sapping all public authority. The nearest garrison of the occupation force is some ways off, isn't it? And I've got the impression they aren't programmed to scramble very fast." They had never known war, nor had their fathers or grandfathers. "An hour or more, for us."

  "We can talk with those Inrai, surely." It was as if she pleaded. "We can bargain."

  "We can try," he grunted. She's got too much faith in human nature, he thought. In spite of every Martian hazard, she's led a sheltered life. Innocent—as she believes the cybercosm is.

  "What can they want?"

  "I told you. Our gear, at a minimum. When they saw it from above, it must have seemed well worth grabbing."

  A rock M from te hands, down to tier feet She. picked it up again and laid it on the pile. "No," she protested. "They can't be that..-. dement."

  "They aren't, quite," Fenn replied, thinking fast he talked. "It's a furious kind of logic. Your guess must've been right; the surviving Inrai have kept a watch on the mountain, maybe only by a few small robots tucked away here and there. An observer saw our plane and sent notice. These mozos, maybe on their own hook, decided to come scouting, grab off our valuable property if possible, and try to learn from us what's going on. We could be the first move in a cleanup campaign against them.

  "Seeing we were two alone, they took the closest landing site to ours and struck off overland to it. Their plane, well, if I were them, I wouldn't leave it sitting for any other overflight or satellite to see. I'd send it off, robotic, and figure on recalling it when wanted. However that is, they found ours is locked, so they prepared to receive us."

  "Scorian would never have ordered it!" she exclaimed.

  She paused in her labor. "Yes. The disaster at the station—it would have driven some .of them wild."

  She ought to know, he thought. She's been among them. She's friends with at least one.

  "If they fail," he said, "they can make off before our help arrives, hide under cover like this, and call their plane back after we're gone. It's a quantum-jumping gamble, yes, but when a man who's savage to start with sees things slip away from him and then a sudden hope—"

  Light blinked through a crevice between boulders. "Inside!" Fenn barked. "They're here!"

  He shoved Kinna ahead of him, over the barricade, into the cave. Briefly, its gloom blinded him. He felt the cold strike through his suit, in this place high on Mars where sunlight never entered. The thermostat poured more energy through the heating web and his sense of tomb-chill faded. He stared out at scoria, flinders, and day. There hadn't been time to fling up much of a wall across the mouth, less than a meter in height. He talked the robot up till its metal body rested above the top, an extra shield. Unslinging his rifle, he crouched on one knee and waited.

  "Come forth," sounded over the radio.

  "I think I know that voice," Kinna whispered at Perm's back. He heard the terror she fought to keep down. It was not fear of death.

  "No, you come out where I can see you," he called.

  "Come forth or be slain," said the enemy.

  "Try it. We're willing to talk, but first we want to see who we're talking to."

  "We—we won't—shoot," Kinna stammered.

  "So you can shoot, indeed?" murmured the other. "Or thus you claim. We shall see. Hold."

  He came bounding over a side of the hollow artfl down into it, where he stood boldly, firearm held loose in his right hand. Through the helmet Fenn saw that he was bone-white, bone-gaunt, his hair hanging lank and ashen to the shoulders. His outfit was gray with grime, repairs plain to see, a calligraphic emblem on the breast faded nearly to invisibility. Scabbarded at his hip was a Lunarian shortsword. His left hand rested on the hilt.

  Kinna spoke as if sickness were upon her. "Yes, it is. Tanir of Phyle Conaire in Daunan." Louder, with a forced firmness: "Do you remember me, Tanir? I remember you well, and everything I've since heard about you."

  I can guess what she's heard, Fenn thought. Not that she'd have had any direct evidence, or she'd have told the police, but somebody carried out the atrocities, and here's this one who's shown us he's on a hyperbolic orbit.

  "Waste no time," Tanir said. "It is worth more than water."

  Yes, Fenn thought, he's aware we've sent for help.

  "We will have your flyer and robot," Tanir added.

  "Fenn," Kinna breathed, "it isn't worth a fight."

  "Certainly not," Fenn agreed. Not when she could get hurt. To Tanir: "Muy bien. Go back. I'll put the key to the plane on the robot and send it after you,"

  The outlaw grinned. "Nay, you will come forth. We will also have knowledge of what you do on this mountain."

  "It—no harm to you—" Kinna faltered.

  The grin became a snarl. "Slain comrades say otherwise. Where can you have been but at the stronghold we sought to take? What can you tell of it?"

  Fear, thought Fenn. Paranoia. Revengefulness. Cruelty. Vainglory. Powerful drives. In an unstable mind, they can take over entirely.

  "Why don't you go back to shelter, so you'll feel safe?" he proposed. "Then we can negotiate."

  Tanir did withdraw, spidering up the rocks and out of sight. But thereupon his voice came: “Nay, no bargains. You'd keep us in place until too late."

  I'd like to. Fenn thought.

  "You haven't long," Kinna cried. "Go now! Get away while you can!"

  "We've time to fetch you along, little pousim." Fenn didn't know what the Lunarian word meant, but he heard the breath catch in Kinna's throat, and wished he had shot while he had the target before him. ' Talk will come later. Lay down that weapon, you man, and step forth—"

  "No—"

  "Absolutely not," Fenn declared. He glanced back at her. She had drawn close, just behind him. He could barely make out her countenance in the murk, agonized. "You heard me too," he said to her.

  "It is that or die," Tanir stated.

  Kinna gripped her hands together. "Fenn, maybe we should—"

  "I said no," Fenn interrupted. "We'll see who dies."

  "You have
three minutes," Tanir said.

  He means it, Fenn thought. Kinna's recognized him. She shouldn't have let that slip. Now he feels he's got no choice. If she escapes, he'll be marked. No more shelter for him in the Threedom. Especially after Scorian finds out, I'll bet.... But how could she have known? Innocent—It probably hasn't made much difference anyway.

  He turned around on his knee, toward her. "Three minutes. Long enough to say I love you, Kinna."

  "And I love you." Her voice trembled. "If only—"

  Ruefulness touched him. "Yes. If only." He reached down, unsnapped his pistol from the holster, and handed it to her. "Take this. Just in case."

  She seized it. Resolution rang. "I'll fight beside you. Of course."

  "No! Here I've got the experience; I'm captain. Get back against the rear wall and lie flat, prone. Jump!"

  He saw her obey and knew she was no longer frightened, merely sensible. "Good," he said, and positioned himself on the barricade, looking out between the top layer of rocks and the bottom of the robot's body.

  Through his suit he felt the roughness under his abdomen. "All I have to do is stand them off for a while. Then they're bound to scamper, to keep ahead of the troopers." He brought his rifle to the Slit. "This is the tool for the job."

  The Inrai had no doubt been listening, but that might be for the best. Let them know the opposition would be tough. Maybe they'd quit at once. If not, he'd try to keep their heads down. That wouldn't be easy, four of them, but he was a better marksman than average.

  He was too busy to be afraid, except, underneath, for

  Kinna.

  "Fenn," she called, "I didn't think of it before, but broadcast the news. Tell what we've done. So it won't go for nothing, whatever happens."

  He cursed his own forgetfulness and ordered the robot: "Transmit this for entry in the general communications system: 'The secret data from the Star Net Station on Pavonis Mons have been downloaded into the public database. This information may be annulled at any moment. Interested parties should record it for themselves without delay."

  His mind raced with the radio waves. They went the same road as his earlier message, upward and outward to whatever comsat was in the sky, thence back to the planet. But now the automaton did not route the signal to an appropriate center. Instead, his words joined the sea of undirected discourse that washed to and fro over the globe, through virtually every home and office and worksite, vehicles in transit, phones on people's wrists, robots and sophotects.... If nobody chanced to be tuned in to the channel assigned, if no recorder chanced to be absorbing everything that came along on it, the cybercosm might be the first to pick up this communication, and would then swiftly obliterate it and the entry it referred to. The odds were against that. Humans had too much idle curiosity, too much appetite for gossip, heritage of the ape.

  A slug smashed against the cave wall near the mouth and ricocheted off. More hit the barrier. Dust puffed, fragments flew. Struck, the robot rocked. The firefight had begun.

  Fenn peered back and forth. Poor though his preparations were, the Inrai had none. Unless the volcano, anciently casting boulders onto boulders, had provided a loophole or two—which would restrict a weapon—they would either have to shoot from the sides, out of his field of view, or expose themselves a bit as they took proper aim.

  Ha, there! Half a helmet above yon cinder. Fenn threw a meteor shower of metal. The helmet disappeared, unhit. "Death and rot," he muttered. He wanted to kill. But he really only needed to discourage. And he ought to conserve ammunition. Hold off. Wait for a decent chance. Tempt the enemy into recklessness? "We're doing well," he told Kinna.

  "You are, trouvour," she said.

  More shots from offside. A couple of them whanged nastily around in the cave before they came to rest. "Stay down," Fenn reminded.

  He studied the rock wall opposite him, across the shard-strewn hollow. A notch at the top, where two big rocks tilted away from one another.... Yes, that would seem like a coign of vantage.... He'd keep it in his sights till another target presented itself....

  A helmet, a rifle. Fenn squeezed the trigger. The helmet exploded. Moisture from within whirled out and froze, a white cloud that dissipated into the empty indigo, like a fleeing spirit. The helmet slid back out of sight. Scraps of it lay glinting.

  "I got him!" Fenn roared. "I got your son of a virus, hear me? Now clear off our mountain!"

  Kinna screamed. He could not but look around. "What is it?" he exclaimed.

  "A man killed—"

  "I had to. For you."

  "I'm not worth it," she shrilled.

  "You flaming well are." She stirred. "No! Keep back, keep down!"

  She crawled toward him. As she came into the light diffused from outside, he saw the tears gleam, he heard the cough and rattle of her weeping, she shook with it, but she came to huddle beside him and the pistol was in her hand.

  "I beg you, get back," he croaked.

  The tousled head shook. She raised her eyes out of shadow to meet his and said, with a growing steadiness, "No. I can't let... you ... take all the danger, all the · · · g-g-guilt. We'll do ... what we must... together."

  She's too civilized, he thought, and too brave.

  From right and left, the bullets hailed.

  Fenn saw them strike stone, over and over as they bounced around, strewing dust and chips and tiny lightnings. He felt impacts through the rocks beneath his belly. The robot jerked, its turret shattered. It collapsed and tumbled down the outer slope of the barricade. And he knew: I forgot Tanir's gang was listening. He heard we were off guard. They're in the open, to right and left of us, pouring their fire at the cave mouth.

  I'm too civilized, flashed through him. I should have been a soldier by trade. But we have no more soldiers, only constables and outlaws.

  He got to his knees, reached, and seized Kinna, while the firing stormed around them. Drag her down, at least get her to where she'd be halfway safe.

  She recoiled from his grip. Her arms flopped. She landed on her back, sprawled over her biostat. A cloud geysered upward, white mingled with brilliant red.

  "Kinna!" Fenn pounced to her side. Enough light seeped this far for him to see. A bullet had gone in at her right breast. Its exit hole beside the air tank was too big for skinsuit self-sealing. Her eyes were open, looking into his as he hunched above. He did not know if they saw. Her lips moved. Only blood bubbled out, shiny red-black in the gloom. It poured from below her shoulder, across the floor, steaming.

  The puddle began to seethe. In the helmet, her face vanished behind a ruddy fog. Exposed to this near-zero atmospheric pressure, her blood was boiling off. All her body fluids were.

  A darkness filled the cave entrance. Without noticing that he did, Fenn had snatched the pistol where it lay by Kinna's hand. He whipped about and fired. The shot the guerrilla snapped had missed in the dark. He fell behind the piled stones. Fenn heard him wailing in his mother's language.

  Not to let any more in. Fenn scuttled back to his wall. He grabbed his rifle again. Another Lunarian was in the hollow, springing this way. Fenn shot. The man veered from the field of view. Fenn sent a spray of rounds through a half circle. That should give them pause.

  The one he had wounded lay on the flinders by the wrecked robot. He squirmed and screamed. The small-caliber bullet had done no damage his suit could not self-repair. But he appeared to be gut-shot, half paralyzed, and going into shock. His noise grew feebler second by second.

  Fenn took aim. Put him out of his misery. But no, Kinna wouldn't like that. Wouldn't have liked it. "Ahoy!" he called. "Want a cease-fire while you fetch this man?"

  A bullet answered, making pebbles and dust bounce, futile except for the scorn behind it. Of course, Fenn thought. They won't waste any of the time they've got left. If they can kill me, they needn't suffer for their escapade. And if they can't, and have to take off on foot, they don't want to be burdened with this muchacho.

  Let him die in whatever peace he
can. I've other things to do.

  Fenn went back to Kinna. She was certainly dead. But in spite of the boiloff—which was already coming to a halt as spilled liquids froze and the ice of them quietly sublimed—her head must still be at something like body temperature. Skull, flesh, helmet insulated it from ground conduction, and convection in the tenuous air was almost negligible. Five minutes till irreversible brain decay set in. Cold would stave it off for periods that were sometimes remarkable, but cold down to just a certain point. Water expands when it freezes. Ice crystals rupture cells beyond repair. Considerable water must remain in hers. He took her helmet off. Maybe, just maybe, the cooling that followed would be enough and not too much. He wished he could clean the mask of clotted proteins off her face, close the staring eyes and bind up the fallen jaw. No time now. Later, later, if there was a later.

  Strange, thought a distant part of him, strange how quickly and methodically his mind worked. Well, he had a task on hand. If he could carry it out. Probably he couldn't. He had to try, though.

  Before anybody else might attack, he returned to the barricade. The man below it had gone silent. Fenn stuck his head well out. Nobody in sight. If he moved fast, he could maybe cross the hollow and get up among the boulders alive. After that, he'd need to kill the last two Inrai quickly. Then he could bring Kinna to the plane, take wing for the nearest rescue station, and hope she wasn't too far gone for them to revive her there. He launched himself out.

  Pockmarks spouted around him. He felt a blow, lurched, saw a cloudlet waft from his left arm. It stopped. By then he was back in the cave. Luck, surprise, and speed had saved him. He'd taken a flesh wound across the biceps—as yet, he hardly felt it—and the sealant had closed the minor rents in his suit fabric.