Wildeblood's Empire

by Brian Stableford

  “What you’re trying to get at,” I said, “is that from Zarnecki’s viewpoint, the duel has to go by the book. He isn’t just starting a fight; he’s going through a ritual, making a point formally.”

  “That’s right,” said Nathan. “And what the book says is that he’ll wound me. Just enough to draw blood. It’s illegal here to kill anyone in a duel or even to incapacitate them permanently. Colonies can’t be wasteful of manpower. Duels to the death only take place in cases of extreme grievance.”

  “Where’d you get all this fascinating information about local customs?” asked Karen.

  “Where’d you think?” he shot back. There was no mistaking the tone of the answer. He’d got it from Miranda—where else? Zarnecki had challenged him, Miranda had made certain he knew exactly where he stood. All part of the game.

  “Do you know anything about fencing?” I asked.

  “Fencing, no,” he said. “But handling a sword, just a little.”

  “Is there a difference?” asked Pete.

  “Believe it or not,” said Nathan, “I once contemplated a career in acting. I trained as an actor, for a while. Classical. I had lessons in stage fighting. Not fencing—just pretend fencing. I know the moves and I can look good. But I don’t know anything about genuine attack—just mock attack and how to counter mock attacks.”

  I couldn’t quite suppress the laugh that rose in response to a sudden silly thought.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “Cyrano de Bergerac,” I murmured. Then I shook my head and said: “Nothing. Just a thought.”

  “At least you’ll be able to lose gracefully,” put in Karen.

  I remembered why I had asked about fencing in the first place. “Let’s not rush things,” I said. “He hasn’t lost yet.”

  “Don’t mind him,” said Karen, to Nathan. “He’s high on the local pep pills. Thinks he can lick anyone.”

  I ignored her. To Nathan, I said: “You reckon that this duel really means something to Zarnecki?”

  He nodded.

  “Suppose you were to win it?” I asked.

  He was willing to take it seriously, at least as a hypothesis. He considered it for a few moments. “It would make things complicated,” he said. “They’d find it very disconcerting. It might put them in something of a quandary—and give us more room for negotiation, as well as more time. What makes you think I might win?”

  “Because of what Karen says,” I told him. “This afternoon I’ve been high on a drug the colonists use. It does make you feel as if you could lick anyone. It stimulates the nervous tissue in the brain involved with pleasurable sensation. Even actions controlled by the autonomic nervous system become hooked up into the pleasure syndrome—but in order to hook them up there has to be a slowing down of the reflexes. And....”

  “And Zarnecki is probably on the drug?” Nathan finished for me.

  “An addict,” I confirmed.

  “So I’ll have the edge as regards speed...but even so....”

  “You can have twice the edge if you want it,” I said. “He’s doped to go slow...I can dope you with something that has the opposite effect...speed you up. Zarnecki may be good, by local standards—but it’s likely he’s never before faced an opponent not on the local drug, let alone one who’s really juiced up. It’s no racing certainty, but it gives you a chance....”

  “It might at that,” said Nathan. “It might at that.”

  I felt slight misgivings. There was no telling what winning a duel might do to his already colossal ego. He fancied himself quite enough as it was.

  He stood up, looking a great deal happier than he had when he’d sat, down.

  “I’m going back to the house,” he said.

  “The house!” said Karen, in a tone so replete with astonishment that it was almost comic. “Are you crazy?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “It’s the only thing to do. Treat the duel as duels are meant to be treated—private affairs quite outside the normal course of social affairs. I shall go back to the house as if nothing had happened. Philip and Zarnecki will conduct themselves in the same manner. It might open up certain new possibilities for ironic undertones in the conversation, but that’s all. Coming, Alex?”

  I shook my head.

  “You can have the ironic undertones to yourself,” I said. “I don’t have your talent for innuendo. I’ve got to clear up the lab after all the messing about with the drug, and finish up recording the results of the experiment. It’ll take a while. I’ll walk back later, although you can ask Elkanah to drive out with a carriage to pick me up if it starts to rain. No point in getting wet, is there?”

  He smiled, and nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said. He really was in a better mood. Now I’d offered him a chance I think he was actually looking forward to the prospect of an affair of honor. Maybe it wouldn’t take him long to begin congratulating himself for cunningly trapping Zarnecki into challenging him.

  “Nathan,” I called, as he went out.

  He looked back, questioningly.

  “You could thank me,” I suggested.

  “Sure,” he said, raising a hand in a kind of salute. “Thanks.”

  Always the diplomat, I thought, you sycophantic bastard.

  And having mentally scored one to myself, I got up and went to the lab, to tidy up after the long investigation.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It did start to rain, and they did send Elkanah out with a carriage. Not being able to tell a landau from a surrey with a fringe on top I have no idea how to identify it in one word, but it had only one horse, two wheels and a big leather canopy to keep the rain off.

  He’d been waiting quite some time for me—it was dark now—but he made no complaint as I hauled myself up to sit beside him. “Sorry to keep you,” I said, with a cheerfulness that was desperately overdone. “Hope you didn’t get cold. You could have sheltered in the cottage over there, of course...always people popping in and out of it.”

  He didn’t say anything, but maintained what I took to be his version of a respectful silence. He flipped the rump of the horse with the tip of a long, thin whip, and then steered it round to head downhill toward the road. There was a lantern secured to the edge of the canopy on his side, and it swung lazily from side to side with the motion of the horse, squeaking slightly.

  The road was a rutted track which had quickly become something of a morass thanks to the rain. The wheels made a peculiar liquid noise as they whirled through the wood, rather like someone drinking noisily. Any pedestrians we might have passed would have been well and truly spattered. But there seemed to be no one on the road. I sometimes wondered whether it was simply a little-used road or whether the word had gone out that it was to be avoided if humanly possible for the duration of our visit.

  We went over and around a couple of low hills, and then came to a moderately-extensive patch of woodland which masked, on the one side, the land marked out for the cemetery, while on the other it stretched away to become rather desolate scrubland as it slowly invaded the dunes.

  He had to slow down because with the sky full of rain clouds it was pitch dark except for our lantern, which was by no means in the best place to illuminate our way. The road ran fairly straight and the horse might be assumed to know its way pretty well, but it was definitely no place for reckless driving.

  I was content to sit back in my seat, restfully enjoying the ride, and I was almost closing my eyes when there was a sudden flurry of movement. I couldn’t see a thing but there was a terrible lurch as the horse stopped and someone or something hurled itself at the carriage from the far side, mounting the running-board forward of the wheel.

  Elkanah barely got out a gasp, that might have been a yell if it hadn’t been strangled. He was jerked forward from his position and by the light of the lantern I caught a glimpse of a rain-swept face and an arm which closed on the servant’s clothing just below the neck.

  As the face swung backwards and the lantern’s o
wn swing sent the shadow of the canopy forward Elkanah was dragged into the gloom. I heard him hit the ground and then, within an instant, there was the sound of another heavy blow.

  The thought that flashed into my mind was that they’d killed him. And the thought which followed lightning-fast on its heels was the remembrance of something Nathan had said only a couple of hours before.

  Accidents, I believe, is the correct euphemism, then again, maybe we could be attacked by dissidents or rebels, so that a very surprised and injured Philip can make profuse apologies....

  It seemed that they weren’t waiting until after the duel before providing me with a little lesson....

  I didn’t wait. With a colossal bound I leapt from the floor of the carriage, clearing the tangle of apparatus that bound it to the horse. I landed on my feet, quite blind to what was ahead of me, and set off at a fast sprint in a direction diagonally away from the road. I didn’t know where 1 was going—I just wanted to get away as far and as fast as possible before I was murdered or beaten up.

  I heard a muffled curse behind me, and the sound of someone coming after me.

  I didn’t hear anything else because I was met with a tremendous blow across the forehead. It wasn’t a fist or a club—I’d run straight into a low bough. It gave under the impact and bent back, but it was no twig and I’d been moving at quite some speed. I was knocked sick, but not quite senseless. I rocked back on my heels and fell over.

  I tried to stand up again, but my head was reeling. I managed to get to one knee, but couldn’t lift myself.

  A hand fell on my shoulder, gripping hard.

  “Keep still you damned fool!” hissed a hoarse voice, which seemed strangely familiar.

  I struggled somewhat—more for show than in any realistic endeavor to escape the grip.

  “Wait!” he hissed again. Then, to someone else: “Bring that light!”

  I looked back, and saw nothing but a colossal looming shadow. But then someone ran up with the lantern. The man who carried it was big and broad—and also completely unknown to me. But the other man—the one who held me—was immediately recognizable by courtesy of a large and pointed nose.

  My head was still unsteady. I put my hands up to my temples. There was no blood but there was a large soft bump. It would probably grow into a magnificent bruise.

  I looked up at the big man.

  “We can’t go on meeting like this,” I said.

  “Can you stand up?” he asked, concerned for my health.

  I tried, and found that I could.

  “Do I take it that when you said you’d contact me again this is what you meant?” I asked. “Or are you acting in your professional capacity as highwayman?”

  “You’ve had two days,” he said. “I thought it was time for a progress report.”

  “You’re in a hell of a hurry,” I said. “Is Elkanah dead?”

  “No. But his headache is likely to be worse than yours.”

  I touched the bump again. “I suppose it’s just as well I did this,” I murmured. “Help to make the whole scene look convincing, won’t it.”

  “I’ll have that as well,” he said, pointing to my wrist.

  I contemplated refusing. Every gram counted when they made up inventories for the Daedalus, and I didn’t have a spare. It was probably the only watch on Wildeblood apart from the ones my comrades were wearing. Finally, I said: “You can borrow it. But I want it back. It’s no use to you—it’s too easily recognizable. You’d better take this as well.”

  This was a flashlight I was carrying in my pocket.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “A bit of paper with numbers written on it,” I told him. “But you wouldn’t want to rob me of that, would you?”

  He put away the wristwatch and the torch. His dark eyes were gleaming in the lantern-light.

  “You know what the key to the code is?”

  I shook my head.

  “The drug, then?”

  “I’ve analyzed it. I can let you have the chemical formula—not that it’d mean much. I can give you a comprehensive list of its effects. I could even make up something for you that would make breaking the habit a bit easier.”

  “Do you know where it comes from?” he demanded, his voice harsh and unnaturally high-pitched.

  “No,” I said.

  He looked angry. He looked ready to disbelieve me. He was thinking that he hadn’t got much return on his investment. I got the impression I might not get my wristwatch back.

  “Look,” I said. “It belongs to a class of biochemical compounds that are fairly common in organisms of all kinds here. There’s no reference to it in the survey reports. Given time, and a bit of luck, I might find the plant or animal which manufactures it, or—given more time and a little ingenuity—I might be able to find a product similar enough to make it from by some kind of synthetic process that’s not too difficult. But I can’t do it overnight.”

  “How much time?” he asked.

  I hesitated. I was stalling him. If I found the answer I very likely wouldn’t give it to him. I tried to weigh up what kind of an answer he might accept. I had to keep him on a string if possible. He might not be destined to get anything out of me, but there was something more I wanted out of him.

  “Three weeks,” I said. It was a preposterous answer. Even if I worked flat out trying to identify the source only serendipity could deliver it to me within six months.

  But he wasn’t over-enamored of the answer as I gave it.

  “You think you’ll still be around in three weeks?” he asked.

  “Oh,” I said. “I see the motive for your sense of urgency now. You heard about the duel, and you figured Philip and Zarnecki were beginning to lean on us. That’s why you arranged this little charade at short notice.”

  “I need to know,” he said. “You know why. You can see how things are.”

  I nodded. “I see your problem,” I assured him. “But you can see ours. I don’t think they suspect that you’ve contacted us—although they may suspect after tonight’s incident. But they still aren’t making it easy for us. That’s up to you. We need more help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “Anything you can give us. We need to know everything you know. And if you expect us to break the code then you’ll have to tell us what you know about that, why you think it bears upon the rest of the problem, and...you’ll have to give us the whole message.”

  That was a big heap of demands. Effectively, I was asking him to tell us everything and trust us to play straight with him. And we weren’t going to. We’d double cross him all the way. I couldn’t help feeling guilty. And a little bit ashamed. In his position, what would I be doing? From his point of view he was fighting the good fight. Only we weren’t in the market for fights. Civil wars are bad publicity.

  I watched his face while he thought about it. I noticed that he didn’t look at the man who held the lantern, although the man who held the lantern was watching him. I noticed for the first time that there were more of them. There was a man holding the horse, and a shadow beyond the carriage that might have been a fourth. A jolly little band of outlaws. There were no prizes for guessing which one was Robin Hood—big nose regardless.

  “If I’m going to trust you,” said the big man, “I want you to remember that it was me that gave you the drug. And the code. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have a chance of finding out what goes on here. And I also want you to remember what happened here tonight. It could happen again. But not for show. I need your help. Right now, you’re asking for mine. If I don’t get what I need from you, you won’t get away. Philip can’t protect you.”

  I was feeling distinctly uneasy, and it wasn’t the bump on the head. This man meant what he said. And Philip couldn’t protect us, even if he wanted to. I was trying to play both ends against the middle, and all I’d got so far was the prospect of being leaned on by both sides.

  Discretion is the better part of valor, I thoug
ht. What price recalling the expeditionary force and skipping out? It might be a good idea. We could put together some kind of report on the colony....

  But I knew we weren’t going to run out. We still had to find out what made this colony tick. Even Nathan wasn’t the kind of man to back away from someone’s dread secret without making every effort to find out what it was.

  “The coded message was left by James Wildeblood,” said the man with the large nose. “There must be a dozen copies still floating loose in the colony. We don’t know what’s in it, but we know he didn’t leave it floating about for fun. The word is that nobody can read it—not even Philip. If anyone but Wildeblood ever knew, the others must have died with the secret. So rumor has it—and it isn’t one of my rumors. I believe it. As to what it is...we think it’s instructions on how to find and isolate the drug. We think it’s a kind of legacy—for all the people, and not just the family.”

  I’d heard of wishful thinking, but that, as he said it, was just too much to swallow. I didn’t say anything, but I was sure that he had to be wrong. To me, that didn’t sound like James Wildeblood at all. What was he supposed to be—some kind of historical practical joker? Or a man with a deep-seated heart of gold which made him want to die knowing that his carefully-established dynastic autocracy wasn’t going to last forever, but that true democracy would one day prevail? No—that wasn’t James Wildeblood.

  But...given that...why had he left a coded message?

  Or was the rumor, too, just a load of moonshine?

  “What about the rest of it?” I said, calmly. “We can’t crack a code from that tiny fragment. We need the whole thing. Otherwise our computer is useless. We can’t do any kind of frequency analysis without much more data. If you want the answer, you have to let us have the problem.”