Korval's Game

by Sharon Lee

  Korval’s

  Game

  Sharon Lee

  & Steve Miller

  Baen Books

  by

  Sharon Lee &

  Steve Miller

  The Liaden Universe®

  Fledgling

  Saltation

  Mouse and Dragon

  Ghost Ship (forthcoming)

  The Dragon Variation (omnibus)

  The Agent Gambit (omnibus)

  Koval’s Game (omnibus)

  The Crystal Variation (omnibus forthcoming)

  The Fey Duology

  Duainfey

  Longeye

  by Sharon Lee

  Carousel Tides

  KORVAL’S GAME

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Plan B copyright © 1998 by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller.

  I Dare copyright © 2002 by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller.

  Introduction © 2011 by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller.

  Liaden Universe® is a registered trademark.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  A Baen Book

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4391-3439-9

  Cover art by Alan Pollack

  First Baen printing, May 2011

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Lee, Sharon, 1952-

  Korval's game / by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-4391-3439-9 (trade pbk.)

  I. Miller, Steve, 1950 July 31- II. Title.

  PS3562.E3629K67 2011

  813'.54--dc22

  2011002042

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  INTRODUCTION

  So what’s your game, now?

  We’ll hope that you’ve read most of this space opera series before you get to this book, Korval’s Game, because, honestly, a lot has gone before. Not only will some of the words sound odd if you’re just starting, but so will some of the ideas. The two novels here are the culmination of a seven book run, so be understanding if you’ve somehow stumbled here first. Baen has already published The Dragon Variation and The Agent Gambit encompassing the first books of the series—that’s the best way to get your “What has gone before” fix for this book.

  Right from the start of the Liaden Universe® series, we, the authors, knew that Clan Korval was up to something. And the reason we knew it was because Korval’s Liaden and galactic contemporaries all knew it, from the heads of clans and secret organizations down to the meanest corner stall market trader waiting for the final consolidated pod to be unloaded from a Korval tradeship’s once a decade visit.

  Now, if this happens to be your first visit to our universe, you’ve come in at an exciting time, because Korval—well, Plan B is in effect, and that’s the title of the first book you’ll read here. And right, since Plan B is in Effect means that the Clan had already been doing something now they’re doing something else, or maybe something more.

  Korval was a player wherever they showed up, and often where they didn’t, and if no one was quite sure what their game was, exactly, there was no doubt that they knew what they were about. So thought their enemies and their friends, and so of course did society at large.

  At the start of Plan B there’s much doubt about the future of Clan Korval, though, from within the Clan. Plan B was always a last ditch thing, and this implementation is far more free form than any of the people in charge like—including the fact that not everyone is sure who is in charge. The grace of allies is good, but when two different enemies send their best at the same time, things can get interesting, indeed.

  Sometimes, winning and survival are not the same thing, and winning is paramount. Miri and Val Con, stalwart friends and lovers though they be, have different talents and abilities—and the adventures in this book require them both to permit the other to walk into war alone.

  I Dare is a novel where both kinship and the Liaden culture’s understanding of itself are tested, with the internal conflicts of the seven original novels coming into strong focus. Readers find most of their favorite characters at work in this one, sometimes in roles that are unexpected. On top of that, the game is still afoot; with the Council of Clans, the Liaden Scouts, and Terran mercenaries all game pieces in the confrontation with the Korval’s most ardent and secret enemy. And then there’s the problem of what do you do with a Clan that is seen as a threat to a planet, anyway?

  In addition to pulling together all the threads form the earlier books I Dare also ends with the promise of more to come, with the introduction of Theo Waitley, a promise already fulfilled with the publication of Theo’s story in Fledgling, Saltation, and the forthcoming Ghost Ship. The Liaden novel Mouse and Dragon is also available from Baen, and it fits into a strategic spot, feeding into and drawing from the mini arc encompassing Local Custom, Scout’s Progress and Mouse and Dragon; some will suggest that Ghost Ship only be read after Mouse and Dragon.

  Baen will shortly be releasing one more Liaden Universe® reprint omnibus: The Crystal Variation (including Crystal Soldier, Crystal Dragon, and Balance of Trade). The novels run the gamut from Space Regencies to Space Opera. All are character-driven; all were fun to write and, we hope, fun to read.

  If this is your first encounter with a Liaden Universe® book—welcome. We hope you’ll find this a start to a lot of good reading. If you’re an old friend, stopping by for a revisit—we’re very glad to see you.

  Thank you.

  Sharon Lee and Steve Miller

  Waterville Maine

  September 2010

  PLAN B

  A Liaden Universe® Novel

  For the Friends of Liad: lisamia keshoc.

  We are in your debt.

  LIAD:

  Department of Interior

  Command Headquarters

  Here we stand: An old woman, a halfling boy, two babes; a contract, a ship, and a Tree. Clan Korval. How Jela would laugh.

  —Excerpted from Cantra yos’Phelium’s Log Book

  There was time, but neither night nor day.

  Time. Current time on twenty planets was counted along the digital displays in the long left wall. The light was impartial, unchanging. Shadowless.

  In addition to the silent, steady chronometers, the room contained a desk upon which sat two screens—one large, one small—a keypad, some few files of hard copy, a stylus. Behind the desk was a chair; in the chair was a man.

  Those who owed allegiance to the Department, to the Plan, addressed him as “Commander” or, formally, “Commander of Agents.” That was enough.

  Commander of Agents touched his keypad, advancing the file displayed upon the larger screen.

  Blindfolded and questioned—if any would dare it—he could easily have recited the entire contents of the file. He perused it without reading it, as another might shuffle and deal hand after hand of Patience, mind wrestling a problem light years beyond his busy fingers.

  The immediate problem was threefold, the sections named thus: Clan Korval, Val Con yos’Phelium, Tyl Von sig’Alda.

  Clan Korval. The Department of Interior had long been aware of the danger presented by Clan Korval, that maverick and most oddly successful of clans. The Department of Interior had taken measures—bold measures—in the past, with an eye toward nullify
ing Korval’s menace. The culmination of these measures was the recruitment of Korval’s young nadelm into the Department and the subsequent redesign of that same Val Con yos’Phelium into an Agent of Change.

  That stroke, brilliant and necessary, had produced uncalculated results. Korval became aware of the Department. And, being Korval, measures—bold measures—had been taken. The Department found its name spoken in public places; long-stable funding sources came under scrutiny, several dummy accounts were unmasked and summarily closed by the Masters of the Accountants Guild, the funds returned to the Council of Clans.

  Not satisfied with such unseemly commotion, Korval moved again—and more boldly yet. The clan vanished—ships, children, servants, and pets—all, all gone from Liad.

  Not quite all.

  Commander of Agents touched his keypad. One of the line direct remained upon Liad: Anthora, youngest of the adult yos’Galans, who had prudently moved to the ancient and formidable Jelaza Kazone, Korval’s first base of planetary operation, and was living there retired. For now.

  Commander of Agents advanced the file, eyes looking beyond screen and data. Korval was out there somewhere. Who knew what they might do? Or when?

  The Commander considered the probability that they had gone entirely, leaving behind one too odd to understand her peril. Were Korval to abandon Liad and accept sanctuary from Terra, the balance long in favor of Liaden trade missions and Liaden expansion would be at risk. The children of yos’Galan were half-Terran. Mongrels. They might well go to kin.

  The Commander was not one to feel qualms. The various actions against Korval, including fomenting revolution on the world of Korval’s oldest trade partner, were necessary to reduce Korval’s influence and bring about the true ascendancy of Liad.

  The recent revolt had not been an entire success, for Korval’s old ally and sometime bedmate had prevailed. Still, it would be a generation before the economy of the planet healed, and the political conflicts would take a dozen dozen relumma to settle.

  More, there was rumor that one string not yet strung to the bow of the alliance was now gone. The Commander allowed himself a faint smile: fight them over and over, covertly, and even Korval must fall. They had almost been eliminated twice now.

  The Commander blinked. This time, perhaps. On his watch.

  This nearly open flight was unfortunate, and unexpected. That Korval searched for their missing delm-to-be was certain. To allow them to locate and reclaim Val Con yos’Phelium would be an error. A very serious error.

  A most successful Agent, Val Con yos’Phelium. There was that in the madcap Korval genes that inspired its members to excellence, whatever course they might chart. Before the adjustment of his loyalties, Val Con yos’Phelium had ridden the mandate of his genes to a certain pinnacle of achievement: Scout Commander, First-In. A man of infinite resource, a pilot from a clan that bred for pilots; intelligent, flexible and—after suitable training—exquisitely deadly, he had among his armament the greatest of all an Agent’s weapons, the Probability Loop.

  The Loop allowed an Agent to calculate odds of mission success and personal survival. To some extent, it served as a predictor of coming action, and as a strategy program. There were, of course, certain other mandates implanted, as well as a self-destruct subroutine. These mandates and subroutines were provided to ensure that an Agent remained loyal to his mission, to the Department, and to the Plan. It should not be possible for an Agent of Change to break training.

  And, yet, there was evidence—disturbingly strong evidence—that Val Con yos’Phelium, delm genetic of a clan that seemingly valued random action just slightly less than piloting skill, had broken training.

  So. Agent of Change Tyl Von sig’Alda had been dispatched on the trail of a rumor, to seek Val Con yos’Phelium along the ways of an interdicted world, to offer transport to the home world, to debriefing and recalibration. Had the Agent merely come against mischance, these things would be accepted. Had he suffered severe mischance, Agent sig’Alda was to bring his Commander a body, a skull, sections of vertebrae—proof. An Agent was no such thing to be carelessly left lying about the galaxy, after all. Especially no such Agent as Val Con yos’Phelium.

  Commander of Agents came to the end of the file and closed it with a flick at the keypad. He leaned back in the chair which conformed to his body’s shape, and briefly closed his eyes.

  Agent sig’Alda had been gone some time. It was understood that ransacking a low-tech world for one man—or one corpse—might consume time. The Commander was prepared to wait some small time longer, before loosing another Agent to the search.

  Commander of Agents opened his eyes, seeking the smaller second screen.

  This screen showed a sector map. Marked plainly on the map was Interdicted World I-2796-893-44, where Tyl Von sig’Alda sought Val Con yos’Phelium. An amber light near the world marked the location of sig’Alda’s ship, as reported by the concealed pin-beam locator beacon. Some time ago, the beacon had reported that it was on world and Commander of Agents had allowed himself hope.

  Alas, the ship lifted very soon, thence to dawdle in orbit now several more days, so the scent that had enticed Agent sig’Alda to the planet’s surface must have proved false.

  Commander of Agents moved his eyes to the chronometered wall. He was due in conference very shortly, where another portion of the Department’s Plan would be reviewed.

  Korval’s links with outside interests were being attended to, carefully. It was the Commander’s thought that Korval had dwindled to the point of being too few to attend to their own security. Thus a test case. It would do Korval no good, should Dutiful Passage fall.

  Hands on the armrests, the Commander pushed his chair back, glancing to the beacon screen—and freezing.

  For the beacon’s light was no longer the placid amber indicative of a stable position. It blazed green on the star map, its glow eclipsing the world called “Vandar” by its natives, the pre-Jump coil-charge smearing the telltale into a blur. Coordinates appeared at the bottom of the screen, the beacon phased from green to turquoise, then flared into nothing as it and the ship around it entered Jump.

  Commander of Agents reached forth a hand and tapped a command into his keypad. The home system of the interdicted world melted from the screen, replaced by another map, this with a ship route limned in red.

  Commander of Agents leaned back in his chair, and allowed himself to believe that all was well.

  Tyl Von sig’Alda was Jumping for Waymart.

  And from Waymart it was but two Jumps to Headquarters.

  STANDARD YEAR 1396:

  Vandar Orbit and Jump

  She was quick, canny, and careful, a former mercenary master sergeant with the battle wisdom of a hundred combat encounters behind her.

  He was not without resources, trained first as a scout and then as an Agent, but the knife nearly penetrated his guard, so smoothly did she manage the thing. He snatched her wrist as it snaked past, shifted balance for the throw—and ended the move in an ignominious twisting breakaway as she broke his grip and rode the attack forward.

  She danced back to the metal wall, gray eyes intent, muscles coherent; poised, not stressed; the sweat bathing her face the residue of physical exertion, rather than strain.

  She let him regain stance, she allowed him time for orientation, time to conceive and launch an attack; uncommon courtesy from so deadly a battle-mate. He feinted with a move out of L’apeleka, saw the grin flit across her face even as she shifted balance in proper response to the phrase.

  He danced another half-phrase of the Clutch discipline, choosing a subtle variant beyond her current level of attainment. He was not really surprised when she moved smoothly in response, timing perfect as a heartbeat. His mental Loop, residue of his days as a full Agent of Change, indicated her chance of besting him in this encounter was nearly seventeen percent—four times higher than it had been half a year ago.

  She charged.

  Training took over and
his hands flashed out, faster than thought. The knife spun away as he caught both her wrists this time and took her with him into the somersault, both aware of the constraining walls.

  She twisted and broke half free. He countered, snaking around and pinning her flat against the metal floor, one hand tight under her chin.

  “Yield!” he demanded, trying not to see how easily his fingers encircled the fragile column of her throat.

  She sighed slightly, considering him out of calm gray eyes. “Sure,” she said. “What the hell.”

  He laughed, taking his hand from her throat and rolling away to prop hip and elbow against the cold deck. “Not quite the attitude I might expect from a seasoned mercenary.”

  “No sense gettin’ killed,” Miri said reasonably, grabbing his free hand and laying it over her breast. She squirmed a little, as if to settle more comfortably against the deck plates. “That’s better.”

  “Fraternizing with the enemy?” inquired Val Con.

  “Taking a little rest with my partner,” she corrected him sternly. “Liadens and Terrans ain’t enemies—they just don’t get along too good.”

  He opened his green eyes very wide. “Don’t we get along, Miri?”

  “Yeah, but see,” she said earnestly, reaching to touch his right cheek and the scar that marred the smooth golden skin, “we’re crazy. And that’s besides you being a scout and having this funny idea about how Liadens and Terrans and for-space-sake Yxtrang are all from the same stock.”