Orion Shall Rise

by Poul Anderson

  Seated in a chair that threatened to buckle under his weight, Mattas Olvera was like a boot kicked through a museum case. He grunted, snorted, belched, scratched his armpits and bulging belly. Fleas hopped in his whiskers and greasy robe. His cigar filled the room with stench. Behind the desk, Jovain must keep insisting to himself that this new arrival was his ucheny, come to advise him on matters of doctrine, and that perhaps the Captaincy had indeed shriveled to a museum exhibit and the time was overpast to give it fresh life.

  ‘I’m no politician,’ Mattas gobbled. ‘The fine details of wheedling and diddling aren’t for me, except where it comes to getting at a juicy young wench, haw-aw-aw! But I do understand you can’t press forward too fast, oh, yes.’ He wagged a finger. The nail was blackrimmed. ‘However, boy, there’s such a thing as moving too slowly, also. Right now most people will go along with you, because they don’t know any clear reason not to. They’ve families to worry about, positions, possessions, their own sweet necks; they hope if they obey, they’ll be let continue living as usual. That includes the opposition. Don’t give it a chance to harden.’

  ‘I know.’Jovain suppressed his irritation.

  ‘What are you doing, then?’

  ‘The hunt is out for Iern Ferlay, and Faylis is helping break down his reputation among the populace, reveal him for the puffball he is.’ Her condition was that I guarantee his safety and freedom. Well, yes, but I can’t control events like a puppeteer, can I?‘I’m in daily conference with Seniors and other leaders who incline toward me for their different reasons – Gaeanity pacifism, social progress’ – Jovain sketched a smile – ‘or, for that matter, restoration of social virtue.’

  ‘Nor incompatible, those. I never claimed to be a good example.’ Mattas spread his arms wide. ‘Gaea is in every aspect of what we are. Go ahead, denounce the latter-day decadence, call for the purity of old. If it turns ’em toward Gaea, it’s right.’

  ‘You know about my Terran Guard,’ Jovain continued. ‘It’s just a nucleus, of course. But as it grows, it will give us every reason to proceed with the disarming of the Aerogens and the various states. More efficient, more controllable, therefore less provocative to foreign countries.’ And obedient not to any homeland lord, but directly to the Captain.‘The Espaynians are ready to cooperate.’

  The day before, Yago Dyas Garsaya had sat in that very chair opposite the desk and discussed that very subject.

  ‘Yes, Your Dignity, my government is prepared for a certain amount of humiliation,’ he said. ‘Was that not the plan? You justify your actions by a threat from my country. We apologize for not having had better curbs on our extremists. We can swallow that much pride for the sake of the larger purpose.’ His palms made a gesture that looked negligent but, Jovain knew, was studied. ‘After all, every informed person is aware that our regime is not yet totally settled into every part of its territory; and as for the Domain public, the admission makes us more human, less sinister. Both governments pledge to work together for a lasting peace. Reduction of armaments is an early step.’

  ‘Can the Zheneral actually afford that?’ asked Jovain. He had been over this ground before, but there was so much to keep in mind, and everything so damnably fluid –

  ‘Oh, yes, if it is genuinely mutual,’ said the Zheneral’s envoy. ‘What real menace do you and we face except each other?’

  ‘Well, eastern Uropa is in ferment,’ Jovain must say.

  ‘Allied, we can keep those tribes polite, with minimal force. The Maurai have shown us how.’ The Espaynian paused to choose words. ‘They are a long way off, Your Dignity, like the Northwest Union, to name our two most important rivals. We need not worry seriously about either in the near future.’

  ‘I am not so sure,’ Jovain answered, remembering a fragmentary report he had gotten this morning. Two aircraft headed west, one of them launched in sly defiance of the sovereignty now inherent in him, and one blatantly – He should summon Mikli Karst, by the code that the outland agent had given him, and require a statement. But a thousand pieces of business were clamoring at him, and he didn’t even have a proper staff organized.

  ‘Maybe,’ the delegate conceded. ‘Doesn’t that make solidarity of our two countries the more urgent?’ He smiled. ‘A paradox, that in order to strengthen ourselves against the misguided, we begin by cutting back our armed forces, no? But so the situation is.’

  True: because the military of both lands have hitherto been regionally based, their first loyalty to a Clan or a neighborhood or some such archaism. Hope stirred in Jovain. How could a world that included Faylis not be full of it? ‘Right,’ he said fervently. ‘Lowered barriers between us, increased trade, an open road for the missionaries.’

  ‘This will take time, you realize,’ he reminded Mattas. ‘We have to overcome inherited distrust, vested interests – well, you know.’

  ‘I know about gnats and their concerns,’ the ucheny snapped. ‘The which are not mine. I’m here to ask how soon you’ll start letting in the Truth.’

  ‘The Domain has never restricted freedom of religion,’ Jovain said, roweled afresh. ‘Or philosophy.’

  ‘You know what I mean, son.’

  Jovain stroked his beard. The silkiness was soothing. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘Haven’t we talked about it through the past two or three years? Financial help for the teachers and seers, out of the Captain’s treasury; eventually, a requirement that all children be exposed to the teaching, as part of their education –’ In haste: ‘Oh, I’m not betraying you. Those are still my goals. But I begin to see how long-drawn and complicated it’ll be –’

  Mattas could be strict when he wished. ‘And I’ve told you, mold while the clay is soft,’ he retorted. ‘The reactionaries are off balance. They don’t know what to expect, and they’ll rejoice if you give them, forthwith, things like strengthened peace and a call for moral renewal. Let the package include a little aid for us– not much at first, nor especially marked for what it is – Do you follow me?’

  Jovain returned home late. He always did. When would the day come for him and Faylis to be their own people? As was, every moment they had alone must be stolen from something else. Well, he kept assuring her, well, he was barely in office, he must consolidate his position and set the work of their common dream in train.

  Hitherto she had taken it calmly. He was getting an impression that she was more interested in the idea of love than she was in making love. Unlike Irmali – but between him and Irmali there had mostly been a courteous coolness, for longer years than he cared to number.

  He found Faylis in their apartment. It was as meager as any; equality aloft was another tradition. She had servants, though, and could occupy herself with the book research that she enjoyed and that was, in fact, valuable to him.

  He found her weeping.

  He knelt before her chair, embraced the slight form, begged her to tell him what was wrong and thereafter crooned at her. Finally she could lay a hand across the paper on her lap. ‘M-m-my father,’ she wrung out. ‘A letter from my father. He disowns me. Because of what I’ve done… with you – O-o-o-oh!’ she screamed, and hugged herself to him. ‘O-o-oh, oh, oh.’

  He let her cry, wishing she would finish, while his mind raced: That means worse than the family Mayn; it could mean the whole Clan Ashcroft against me, except Lorens, after the old man gets through corresponding back and forth. As if I didn’t already have Irmali’s Lundgards on my neck – This will jerk every traditionalist knee in the Domain. Never mind whether Castle-keeper So-and-So keeps half a dozen concubines; his Captain is supposed to be perfect, never sullying the anim of Charles, right?

  Iern would have been better schooled in hypocrisy than I am.

  The rowdy power of Mattas stood forth in Jovain. He lifted his head above his shoulder, where the head of his woman lay, and told himself: Okay. As Mikli Karst is fond of putting it, okay. This had to be met sooner or later. I shall overcome. I will overcome.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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nbsp; Flying west lengthened a clay, but the sun had swung low when the Maurai overtook their quarry.

  Refreshed by sleep, Iern was telling Ronica about himself. He had intended to concentrate on the glamorous aspects, but despite her wide-eyed fascination she kept asking questions that struck deep. Nevertheless he was having a marvelous time.

  A part of that came from the wonder unrolling beneath him. He had not imagined such an immensity of forest, like a dark-green ocean, broken only by a frequent gleam of lakes or a silver thread of river – and now he flew parallel to the greatest lake of all, an inland sea. It shone on the left as if it too were silver which the long yellow sun-rays had turned molten.

  The aircraft droned and shivered. He fancied that it strained forward, in the manner of a horse when it scents the stable near the end of a ride. Mikli had consulted a map a short while ago and estimated that an hour’s travel remained. Iern would welcome release from this cramped, noisy, vibrating room; and yet while Ronica gave him her full heed, he felt no hurry about it.

  ‘– flitted down to Pireff,’ he said. ‘That’s the chief port in Ellas. Its master is friendly to the Domain, which sends a fair bit of trade his way. Our plan was to hire a boat and spend a couple of months knocking about the islands –-’

  The airplane rocked. An angry whine sawed through fuselage and windows. Smoke trailed. The intruder craft swept about in an arc of kilometers, ahead of this one, tilting back and forth, well-nigh speaking the taunt: ‘Take a good look.’

  Iern did. It was a sizable twin-engined jet, gray-painted, so that light off metal did not dazzle him and he could make out gun turrets and rocket launcher. It bore no insignia, but he had read everything he could find about the world’s flying machines and knew those rakish lines.

  ‘Charles!’ he yelled. ‘That’s a Maurai fighter!’

  Sweat sprang forth on his skin, icy and gamy. His pulse almost drowned out Ronica’s blast of profanity. Behind him, Mikli’s voice came faint: ‘They’ve tracked us. How and why? Tune in the radio, girl, for hell’s sake! Standard band.’

  Ronica nodded and obeyed. Her lip was curled back from her teeth.

  Basso out of the receiver: ‘– calling you. Come in and be quick about it.’ Iern identified a N’Zealann accent in the Francey. The speaker shifted to a different language, of which he caught just a few words – Unglish, he supposed. A thrumming calm took him over. He had small idea of what this encounter meant, and none of what course it would take, but he was a Stormrider.

  Mikli leaned past him and ripped out a reply. The jet climbed from sight. Its spokesman answered in his turn. Unable to follow the dialogue, Iern glanced back at the Norrman and saw apprehen-siveness flicker across his furrowed countenance.

  Silence fell, save for the engines. Ronica switched off the transmitter and explained starkly to the Clansman: ‘They demand we surrender. There’s a broad stretch of beach not far ahead, for landing. If we don’t, they’ll force us down.’

  ‘What… is this … about?’ he asked.

  ‘Wrong place to discuss that.’ She continued in Angley as she inquired, ‘Any thoughts, Mikli?’

  ‘Well, we could honor their request,’ her associate replied.

  She missed his derision. ‘No!’ she flared. ‘I’d pull the sky down first. If they took us prisoner, they’d find out about Orion – from us.’

  A secret, and enormous, Iern guessed. Aloud: ‘I’ve never heard that the Maurai torture people.’

  ‘They would if necessary, after they’d seen our cargo,’ Mikli answered. ‘But I doubt they would need to. They have consummate doctors and psychologists. Drugs or … whatever means they used to get the information that put them on our trail. … Oh, yes, they’d wring our knowledge from us, to the last drop.’

  Ronica turned steely. She peered before her, laid fingers around chin, and murmured, ‘We could land as they say, then make a break for the woods.’

  ‘And starve to death?’ Iern protested, before he remembered this wasn’t his battle, maybe.

  ‘Oh, I’d get us to civilization, and in fine shape,’ she said mechanically. ‘I’m a professional at that sort of thing.’ Her look sought him. ‘You sit tight. They’ve no cause to hurt you, I think.’

  ‘You forget what Lohannaso told us,’ Mikli reminded. ‘We are not to get out until commanded. He can make a vertical landing the same as us, his guns covering us every centimeter of the way. If we run, he’ll open fire. I know him; we’ve sparred before. He hates inflicting death or injury, but when he reckons he must, he doesn’t waste time agonizing over the decision.’

  Ronica nodded. ‘And anyhow,’ she said slowly, ‘they’d clap hands on the plutonium.’

  The what? It was like a thundercrack in Iern’s head. No, I misheard, surely I misheard.

  Ronica nodded again ‘Okay, we’ve got a single choice,’ she went on. Her tone was quite level. ‘I’ll crash us in the lake. They won’t recover a thing.’

  ‘Wait a minute!’ exclaimed Iern and Mikli together.

  Her gaze went back to the passenger. ‘I’m sorry, Ferlay,’ she said low. ‘You could’ve parachuted first if I’d watched my tongue. But you’ve heard what only dead men are supposed to know, outside of Orion.’

  He tensed himself to seize her. Her knife leaped from the sheath and pointed at his throat. He knew expert handling when he saw it, and pulled back. Her left hand operated the stick and brought the airplane banking around.

  ‘They’ll blast us if we act suspiciously,’ Mikli warned.

  Ronica grinned like a skull. ‘Let them. We’ll crash and burn among the trees. If they have any sense, they won’t come near the wreck. The crates and those brittle old warheads will be broken, the plutonium scattered everywhere around. Not nice.’

  Mikli spoke in Unglish. Ronica shook her head and told Iern: ‘He’s not anxious to die, but there isn’t a thing he can do about it. No weapon on him, our firearms stashed out of reach, and if you behave the least bit funny, Mikli, dear, I’ll put us into a dive on the spot. Notice how low I’ve brought us; it’d be impossible to pull out. … Iern, I really am sorry. I couldn’t do this to you if I weren’t here myself. I think you’d have loved to see Orion rise. I would have.’

  ‘She’s crazy, a fanatic,’ Mikli babbled.

  ‘No,’ Ronica said. ‘I gave my oath, that’s all.’

  The lake filled more and more of the world-circle. The Maurai jet screamed past. Ronica uttered a brief laugh. They’re wondering what the devil they can do,’ she observed. Her wariness toward the men never slackened.

  Low above conifers, the sun filled the cabin with a haze of luminance. Sun! It exploded in Iern. The duel that he and Jovain had fought, over a dreamland a million years ago and a million light-years remote – He didn’t pause to think further.

  ‘Hold, hold,’ he said, while the knife poised under his jugular. ‘We may have a chance yet. To keep your secret and save our lives. Barely possible. I am a Stormrider.’

  Something akin to dawn shone in the woman’s face. A whisper in Iern declared that she was in truth no fanatic, she savored life more than most. But her blade remained unwavering. ‘Say on,’ she ordered. ‘Fast.’

  ‘We’ll need parachutes,’ tumbled from him. ‘While we put them on – Mikli, talk to the Maurai. Deceive them. I gather that’s your specialty. Afterward, Ronica, let me have the controls.’ They were dual. He had already taken them, and found the airplane a nimble little beast. ‘I’m more skilled than you. I’ll climb well aloft, and collide with their jet. Both will go down, but we’ll be warned, we can bailout.’

  She stared. ‘They won’t let you steer close.’

  Energy crackled in Mikli’s voice: ‘I believe they might, once I’ve blarneyed them. Okay, Ronica, I’m about to scramble after the parachutes, and I’d like to get a pistol while I’m at it, but I don’t want to put a bullet through your brain. Do you trust me that far? I too look forward to Orion rising, and the glorious chaos that will follow.’ Iern heard
him unbuckle and crawl back across the freight.

  Plutonium, the Clansman thought. What sort of monsters are these I’m with? But dead I can do nothing, learn nothing, and I won’t stay alive unless I save them.

  Mikli handed him a parachute pack. He went through the irksome exercise of securing it to himself in the space available. Meanwhile Ronica returned the plane to an obedient course. ‘Put on your own gear,’ Mikli said to her; and to Iern: ‘Don’t get playful, my friend. I did retrieve a pistol, but it’s cocked for you, not the lady.’

  Having seen a possibility of making his goal, he’s willing to walk a tightrope, Iern decided. It probably gives him pleasure. For his part, he felt altogether alive. This was like daring a hurricane again.

  Mikli stretched forward and switched on the transmitter. Unglish barked to and fro. Wilderness passed beneath. Finally he sighed off and reported: