The Far Side of The Stars

by David Drake

  "We're RCN!" Estaing said. "They won't humiliate us that way!"

  "We were RCN," Adrian Purvis said. "Now we're pirates. And if it comes to that, I don't want to be hung at a formal ceremony in Harbor Three, either."

  He turned to Adele. "Thank you for your candor, cousin," he said. "I . . . hope we'll have an opportunity to talk about old times later during your visit to Todos Santos; but not, I think, this afternoon."

  "No," Adele said. "Good day, Adrian."

  She nodded to include the other officers in her leave-taking, then opened the door and backed onto the stairway again. The bright sun struck her, but she was shivering as she started down toward the silent, watchful Tovera.

  The officers of the Aristoxenos lived like princes—now. But the ruler who'd welcomed them was dead, and the battleship whose power they'd wielded was rusting away. Even if the Alliance didn't support the Commonwealth, there'd soon come a time when the wealth granted in former days was worth more to the new Governor than the support of a band of fat, aging foreigners.

  "Mistress?" said Tovera, following in echelon as Adele strode for the gate.

  "I don't know how we'll get transportation back to the ship," Adele murmured quietly, "but I didn't want to ask them for help. The less association we have with them, the better."

  They walked through the archway. The guards rose, and the RCN spacer in charge doffed his cap to Adele.

  "It was like being in a tomb," Adele said. She wasn't sure even Tovera could hear her. "It was a tomb. They're just not quite dead, yet."

  * * *

  Daniel, standing on the east-facing balcony of the Governor's Palace, felt the roar of a ship lifting in the harbor behind him. The Sissie's Chief Engineer said over the commo helmet, "I think Converter Three's performing below spec, sir. It's brand new or anyway was when we lifted from Tanais Base, but it's only running at 88%. Over."

  The balcony overlooked a canal; beyond a tugboat pushing a line of barges toward the harbor, the city of San Juan rose in irregular terraces. None of the buildings were very high, but three lofty aqueducts fell from the hills and marched across the city to the water plant near the palace.

  "I think we'll leave it in place, Mr. Pasternak," Daniel said. "The unit doesn't seem to be failing, just low output. I wouldn't trust anything we found here to replace it. Keep an eye on things, and if necessary we'll take steps when we dock at Radiance or another major port. Out."

  The ship had risen high enough above the palace that its exhaust glittered on the black water of the canal. In Xenos window glass would've been flashing also, but most of the houses here made do with lattices and louvers.

  "Roger," Pasternak replied. "Out."

  Birds no bigger than Daniel's outstretched finger fluttered about the balcony, snapping up crumbs from the snacks other loungers were eating. They had six limbs: four wings, attached at either end of the torso, and a pair of legs in the middle. It'd taken Daniel a moment to realize that the odd fluting he heard wasn't the wind in the rooftiles but rather the birds themselves; he looked forward to checking . . . well, having Adele check . . . the natural history database in the Princess Cecile's computer.

  Daniel had expected that being rushed to the palace meant he'd be ushered in to Governor Sakama immediately, but when he'd climbed the broad marble staircase to the Governor's public apartments, the guard at the open door of the Hall of Audience stopped him. He had the choice of standing in the huge circular anteroom which dwarfed the hundred or more military and civilian officials who lounged or strolled in small groups within, or going out onto the balcony which ran the full width of the building.

  Daniel went outside and got on with the business of the Princess Cecile. He could oversee Mr. Pasternak as well by spread-band radio as he could looking over the engineer's shoulder, and he simply wasn't going to let this silliness bother him. If he'd been an RCN officer on active service, of course, he might have had to take steps. . . .

  He felt the presence of someone approaching and turned his head. He expected it was another of the beggars who seemed to be allowed on the balcony but not the anteroom; instead a soldier with a paunch and a spreading white beard said, "Spacer Leary? The Governor will receive you now."

  Daniel raised the visor of his commo helmet as he followed the soldier through the anteroom. If the Governor'd given him time to dress, he'd be wearing more formal headgear than this. Now he wondered whether he should doff it as he would the saucer hat of his Whites, or if it was better to pretend the helmet was just part of his head; which it was, pretty generally, while the Sissie was under weigh. He decided he'd keep the helmet on.

  His guide stopped beside the guard at the door to the Hall of Audience. Daniel stopped also. "Go on!" the soldier said with an angry gesture. "The Governor's waiting!"

  Daniel stepped through, smiling faintly. These foreigners got themselves into such a state. . . .

  The hall's arched ceiling was a good thirty feet high in the center and covered to the clerestory windows with florid paintings. Mythology, Daniel supposed: agreeably fleshy women wearing not much, and men of a similar sort—albeit less agreeable. He could've studied the figures all day in close-up through his face-shield's magnification and they wouldn't have meant any more to him than what he'd gotten with a cursory glance.

  He'd bet Adele could tell who the figures were and who painted them besides, though. Quite a remarkable woman, that. He and the RCN—and probably the other people she worked for besides—were damned lucky to have Adele Mundy on their side.

  When Daniel looked into the Hall of Audience on his arrival, Governor Sakama had been sitting at the far end of the eighty-foot room, talking with half a dozen locals in uniforms or formal robes. Nothing had changed, save that Sakama and his entourage were all watching Daniel approach at a deliberate pace. Cushioned benches were built into all four sides of the room but save for that group—the Governor seated, his courtiers standing in front of him, and a scattering of servants at a discreet distance—no one else was present.

  Because Sakama Hideki had succeeded his father Sakama Iyoshi a few years previous, Daniel had a mental impression of Hideki being a young man; in fact he was in his late fifties: swarthy, thin-featured, and as alert as a hawk. The courtiers were a mixed bag. The civilians, two men and a woman in lace-embroidered robes, looked sharp. One of the men held a portable data unit that from where Daniel stood could've been a duplicate of Adele's.

  On the other hand, the three military officials, all male, weren't prepossessing. Daniel noticed that their pistol holsters were empty, but a sub-machine gun of Cinnabar manufacture rested on the bench beside the Governor.

  Daniel marched to within six feet of where the Sakama waited, halted, and from instinct—it wasn't anything he'd planned—struck an Academy brace and saluted. "Sir!" he said. "Lieutenant Daniel Leary of Cinnabar, at your service."

  When his brain took time to analyze it, Daniel decided it'd been the proper thing to do as well as the right one. The Governor almost certainly had a high military rank as well as the civil title he went by, so a reserve officer of the RCN should salute him on meeting. But when there isn't time for analysis, you have to go by instinct. Daniel's instinct had taken him safe through several battles, and the present situation might not be far short of another one. You couldn't tell with foreigners. . . .

  "The Cluster is pleased at your visit, Captain Leary," Sakama said. His voice rasped as though his vocal cords were scarred. "Perhaps you would care for some refreshment? I can summon a boy with wine or perhaps an assortment of nuts? Terran maranha nuts grown here in the soil of Todos Santos are a great delicacy on Cinnabar, I'm told."

  "Thank you, your excellency," Daniel said, then went on to the lie, "but I'd just finished eating when your invitation arrived. Your planet appears a marvelous place, and I'm looking forward to sampling its delights as soon as I've accomplished my duties to the vessel I command."

  "Yes, it's your duties that my advisors and I wanted to speak with
you about, Captain Leary," Sakama said. The female civilian and one of the military officers were staring at Daniel in a combination of rage and loathing, but the remainder of the courtiers kept their eyes averted.

  The Governor drew on the long, amber stem of his pipe while he continued to smile at Daniel. "You are the son of Speaker Leary, are you not? It is perhaps not a coincidence that you've come to the Cluster at this time?"

  Daniel pursed his lips. He dropped from his brace into Parade Rest, his hands crossed behind his back. The perfumed tobacco smoke tickled his nose, and he didn't want to sneeze.

  "My father is Corder Leary, yes, your excellency," he said, keeping his tone mild and completely emotionless. "But my family relationships have nothing to do with my presence on Todos Santos at the moment. I'm in the private employ of two nobles from Novy Sverdlovsk who want to visit unfrequented corners of the Galactic North. I recommended we put into Todos Santos to refit the yacht after her run from Cinnabar."

  He didn't mention their intention to put in at Radiance also, though it must be obvious to the Governor. Most of the Galactic North could be described as unfrequented, with few docks other than those of Todos Santos and Radiance capable of performing major repairs to a starship.

  Sakama leaned forward. "You know that the Council of the Commonwealth is in league with the Alliance now, don't you?" he said. "That's a threat to the Cluster, certainly; but a threat to you in Cinnabar as well. Not so?"

  "Your excellency . . . ," Daniel said, speaking with the careful sincerity of truth. "I don't know anything about such a league. If such a thing is true—"

  "It is true!" said the official holding the data unit. "They have a base on Gehenna and will send a huge fleet there shortly. Battleships and many other ships!"

  "Do you think we don't know what goes on in Radiance?" the female official said harshly. "But how are we to stop it? This is your fault, your war with the Alliance, but we're the ones who'll pay for your failure to act!"

  "Madam," said Daniel, deliberately turning his head and lifting it slightly to look down his nose at her. "If there's information which the Republic needs to know, then I'm sure that the proper parties know it. You'll have to direct your questions elsewhere, however, because I'm not one of those people myself."

  But Adele is, unless I'm very badly mistaken.

  He fixed Governor Sakama with his gaze. Daniel knew perfectly well that the fellow could have him taken out and shot, or perhaps shoot him personally with that sub-machine gun; it was a working weapon, not a gilded and engraved toy.

  Daniel said in a firm voice, "So, your excellency—I'm honored that you requested my presence to clear up that little misconception. If you have questions that I can answer, I'd be more than happy to. Otherwise, I won't impose on your time. Eh?"

  It didn't do to show weakness, except with the girls who thought weakness was the same as sensitivity. In Daniel's experience weakness was usually the same as self-absorption, but he was willing to wear any suitable camouflage on a hunt. Which he'd be doing as soon as he got back to the Princess Cecile and made sure she was settled to a degree that allowed her captain to take some liberty himself . . . if he got back alive.

  "We didn't request Mr. Leary's presence in order to hector him, Ayesha," the Governor said with a frown. The catch in his throat made the words sound harsher than perhaps they were meant, but Sakama's look wasn't one that Daniel would want an autocrat directing at him.

  The woman, Ayesha, must have felt the same way. She fell to her knees and prostrated herself, catching Daniel's ankles before he could jump back. "Your pardon, gracious lord!" she said, speaking into the rug-covered floor. "My life is yours to command."

  "Get up, please!" Daniel said, shocked and disgusted. The woman was twice his age, powerful, and—judging from the words if not the tone of her complaint—obviously intelligent. She shouldn't be abasing herself!

  To the Governor he added, "Really, your excellency, we in the Republic of Cinnabar pride ourselves on a frank exchange of views. I took no offense."

  Neither part of that disclaimer was wholly true. Had the woman as ambassador to Cinnabar used that tone on Speaker Leary, he'd have had her flogged on the Senate floor while his fellow Senators applauded. But Ayesha's fear seemed to be of worse than a flogging, and that was uncalled for.

  You could never tell what wogs would do. They might even decided to murder the son of a powerful Cinnabar politician. . . .

  Sakama leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Daniel. "Captain Leary?" he said in a whisper that made Daniel think of a cat playing with something alive. "You say you're sure that proper persons are dealing with the matter of the Alliance building a naval base on Gehenna. How are you sure?"

  "Your excellency," Daniel said, "I know as little as you do about the workings of the Republic's high political levels. Less, perhaps, because it was never a matter of interest to me even when I was on polite terms with my father. Which I have not been for these past seven years."

  He paused for effect. He'd let his voice rise slightly as he fell into the rhythms of a speech to the Sissie's crew, convincing his listeners of the importance of what he was saying and his utter sincerity in saying it.

  "But I do know that the Republic of Cinnabar has for a thousand years supported her friends and defeated her enemies," Daniel continued. Sometimes those enemies were the friends of the past who'd found the burdens of friendship with the Republic too onerous; but this was a stump speech, not a lecture. "If there's something that the rulers of the Republic should know, they know it. I have no idea how that's accomplished, but I trust the system that has risen from strength to strength for a millennium!"

  If the Governor and his advisors decided Daniel Leary was a rabid Cinnabar patriot with nothing in his head but the formless assurance that his country would triumph, they would send him back to his proper business . . . as Daniel intended they should. If Sakama recognized that Daniel had been speaking cold, rational truth as well—that wasn't a bad thing either.

  Sakama leaned back on his cushions with a sigh and a grimace. "You may leave, Captain," he said. He waved a hand in dismissal. "Perhaps another will come from Xenos, who knows more and can say more."

  As Daniel turned to return to the door with the same measured stride that brought him to the Governor, he heard the counselor with the data unit say morosely, "Perhaps. But even if it's very soon, it may be too late!"

  CHAPTER 13

  The alley was too narrow for even the three-wheeled cyclo which'd brought Hogg and Daniel to the produce market where they'd lounged by the well curb, taking in the sights and waiting. Latticed wooden balconies built out from the upper stories almost met overhead. The passage kinked to the left some thirty feet from where they stood at its junction with the road to the harbor.

  "Can't say I like it," Hogg muttered. In his loose garments and broad-brimmed hat he could've passed for a local man, at least after the shadows got a little longer. "Could be six guys waiting right round that corner to teach you not to fool with the local women."

  "That's why you're with me, Hogg," Daniel said equably, shrugging in the gray cape he'd donned over his 1st Class uniform when they left the market. His Whites and glittering medals were the lure with which he'd trolled the market. He'd smiled faintly but he hadn't spoken except to murmur apologies when bumped, and he'd avoided eye contact, particularly with women.

  After one pass through the market, he and Hogg settled to wait. They hadn't needed to wait very long.

  Daniel glanced around. There was traffic on the main road, but nobody paid special attention to the two of them. Whistling a snatch from "Abel Brown the Spacer," he stepped into the alley. "I'll drink your wine and eat your pies, I'll screw you blue and black your eyes. . . ."

  "And her husband may be home waiting for her and her not knowing it," Hogg said.

  "Quite true, Hogg," Daniel agreed, pausing to listen before stepping under the first of the louvered balconies. He heard muted voices from wi
thin the house, but there was nothing of concern to him.

  Shopping was women's work on Todos Santos, but there were many men in the produce market: stall-keepers, servants, and the bodyguards accompanying women of high station. There were also a few young men who, like Daniel, avoided contact with both the crowd of shoppers and with one another. Those fellows were all well got up, but none of them had a costume as vivid as RCN Dress Whites. A billet with written instructions had dropped from a puffed sleeve into Daniel's lap before he'd been half an hour in the market.

  "You know, master," Hogg continued, "there's professionals here in San Juan too. They're a whole lot cheaper than having your dick sewed back on might be."

  Daniel passed an inset doorway on the left. He heard the balcony above him creak as someone's weight shifted, but nobody spoke. He and Hogg were past the bend in the alley now.

  "Tell me, Hogg," Daniel said in a low voice as they proceeded. The third doorway, the note said. That would be the one to the right, beneath a second-story balcony. "When you were growing up on Bantry, did your family buy meat at the Servants' Store?"

  Hogg snorted. "Not unless Pap was too hung over to walk his snares," he said. "And after I turned six or so, not even then. Who'd want to eat chicken when the tree hoppers were fat on nuts?"

  He chuckled and added, "And aye, I understand. Who knows? The maid what passed you the note didn't look half bad herself."

  Daniel stopped at the third doorway. It ought to be the right one, but . . . The note didn't say, Knock, or Whistle or whatever, and there wasn't an eyeslit in the heavy panel. Which was odd unless—

  He looked up. There was a giggle from the balcony; a trap door in the balcony floor opened inward. Daniel caught a glimpse of lace, then a bundle of sticks dropped down unraveling as it fell. It was a ladder of battens hung on cords.

  "Keep an eye on things if you please, Hogg," Daniel said in a low voice. He gave the ladder a practice tug. Then, with a quick glance around, he started up. He'd have swung wildly if Hogg hadn't belayed the bottom of the ladder, but the silk-and-bamboo construction was certainly strong enough.