The Mercenaries

by Bill Baldwin

  Brim's instruments showed Starfury to be traveling at some five times the battleship's cruising velocity when he arrived off a point approximately three hundred irals astern of her aperture. Judging now by instinct alone, he gradually reduced power and allowed momentum, or "surge," to cover the remaining irals to the boarding aperture, while natural HyperLight retro-induction (toward Sheldon's Great Constant at LightSpeed) bled off velocity proportional to the cube root of Starfury's net mass. By the time she was abreast the battleship's aperture, the pipe had already started to deploy in a flashing welter of director beams.

  "Stand by to receive pipe alongside to port," he piped. "Stand by to receive pipe alongside to port!"

  Moments later he gradually reversed two of the ship's Drive units; until both starships were running about fifty irals apart, matched perfectly in course and speed, while the pipe connected noisily to Starfury's main accommodation port. He'd done it again....

  Taking stock of his control settings, he slaved his helm to the battleship's, relinquished the con to an exhausted (but grinning) Nadia Tissaurd, and set out at a run toward the main deck to welcome the Fluvannian dignitary.

  Chapter 4

  Showing the Flag

  Puffing after his sprint from the bridge, Brim arrived at the main boarding chamber only clicks before the Fluvannian Ambassador. Starfury's little marching band had already begun braying out the intolerable agglomeration of groans, squeaks, and wheezing noises that, in aggregate, composed the perfectly awe-inspiring Fluvannian national anthem, "Our Dulcet Star Rises Shrill O'er the Fo'zelii." Calhoun and Drummond both had sent the Carescrian introductory literature about Fluvanna and Fluvannians. But none of it was adequate preparation for the individual who appeared as the great boarding hatch popped inward, then slid aside on its massive guides.

  Beyazh the Ambassador was erect, fierce, and patriarchal in every feature. Were it not for his stately progress across Starfury's main boarding lobby, he might have been mistaken for some heroic statue come to life from Courtland Plaza in Avalon. Wearing very full and baggy black cotton bloomers, a high-necked white shirt under a short black silken jacket, and a crimson fez around which was tied a white turban, the man looked like every Fluvannian travel poster Brim had ever seen—even to soft, black leather boots turned up at the toes. He had great, dense eyebrows; glowering, deep-set eyes that spoke of ten thousand days peering into the blackness of Hyperspace; and a gigantic ebony mustache whose stilettolike ends were twisted nearly vertical. He was followed out of the airlock by a confused gaggle of bobbing travel cases in every color of the spectrum.

  After what seemed to be a lifetime, Starfury's hard-pressed volunteer musicians (most from Disrupter sections, with exception of two clearly tone-deaf cooks) ceased their dreadful labors, and the boarding chamber fell silent except for muted thunder from the Drive. The Fluvannian bowed deeply from the waist, then straightened and touched first his forehead and next his lips in a sweeping gesture that ended with his right hand turned palm upward toward Brim—an intergalactic gesture of goodwill. "Fluvannian diplomatic party requests permission to board I.F.S. Starfury," he announced solemnly, rising to a dignified position of attention and this time saluting in a more contemporary style.

  Impressed, Brim returned the salute briskly. "Permission granted. Your Excellency," he said, "with my personal welcome."

  "Stand by to cast off the pipe," Tissaurd's voice ordered over the blower, "Stand by to cast off the pipe." Moments later the massive hatch glided silently back in position and sealed itself with a quiet hiss.

  Brim dismissed the ship's band while Beyazh strode across the chamber offering his hand in a modern handshake—and abdicating the job of transferring his luggage to a crew of bemused ratings.

  "If I remember anything about my days as a starsailor," the big man said, "you are anxious to oversee our disengagement from the Queen, Captain Brim."

  Heavy repulsion motors whirred inside the aperture—above them on the bridge, Tissaurd was already retracting the huge lug bolts that held Queen Elidean's pipe in place. "You remember well. Your Excellency," Brim remarked. "Would you grant me the honor of your company on the bridge?"

  "As our Sodeskayan friends might say, Captain," the Fluvannian replied with a smile, " 'Coarse winds and bitter snow deter no crag wolves.' Is that not so?"

  Brim swallowed. "Absolutely, Your Excellency," he replied with hardly a pause. "This way please." Fluvanna promised to be an unusual place indeed.

  * * *

  Brim and Beyazh found jump seats on the bridge just in time to watch Queen Elidean's golden pipe disappear into its aperture. Moments later the battleship's director beams winked out. "Deep-space mooring operations are completed," Tissaurd piped throughout the ship. "AH hands carry out normal and routine work in accordance with previous instructions."

  Beyazh contemplated Tissaurd with ill-concealed interest. "Your First Lieutenant?" he asked.

  "She is, Your Excellency," Brim replied.

  The Ambassador's eyebrows rose momentarily. "Truly alluring," he remarked, raising an eyebrow, "tiny, yet so perfect—and no youngster, either. Captain," he said. "I must meet this gorgeous woman at the first opportunity."

  Momentarily taken aback, Brim opened his mouth, but the Ambassador continued with a sigh.

  "Ah, Captain," he said, "calm yourself. I shall not force myself on your most seductive First Lieutenant. I have more breeding than that. But if she is conducive to—shall we say— the inconsequential attentions of a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard, well...." He shrugged casually, but his eyes warned that he meant business.

  Brim forced aside a grin. He didn't blame the Ambassador one iota; he almost told the man so, but at the last moment decided that he ought to be as professional as possible with this high-level diplomat, at least until he got to know him. "Lieutenant Tissaurd's personal life is of no concern aboard ship, Mr. Ambassador," he said stiffly, "except in that it affects her performance as an officer." Suddenly he felt as stuffy as his words.

  "Excellent," Beyazh commented absently as he peered at Tissaurd through narrowed eyes. "I should enjoy a tour of the ship, Captain. Do you suppose you could arrange to free this magnificent woman from her duties?"

  "Er... now?" Brim asked.

  "But of course," Beyazh answered with a look bordering on disdain. "Only a fool would dawdle when presented with such an opportunity. Come, Captain. I applaud your professional disregard of this seductive woman's obvious charm. But I have no such impediment, and only a limited time to act." He raised his bushy eyebrows. "Shall we be about it, then?"

  "I shall relieve her myself," Brim said, leading Beyazh forward to the two Helmsmans' stations. Now here was a man of action, clearly attracted to beautiful women. And Tissaurd was a beautiful woman.

  "I am eternally in your debt," the bearded man said in a tone that strongly augured otherwise. Clearly, he was also used to getting his own way most of the time.

  When they reached the forward end of the bridge, it was almost as if Tissaurd had been expecting them, for she turned in her seat the instant Brim touched her shoulder. Her smile was enough to light the whole bridge. "Why, Captain Brim," she said, "who is this utterly handsome man you've brought onto the bridge with you?"

  Beyazh didn't wait for an introduction. Sweeping past Brim, he grasped Tissaurd's perfectly manicured fingers and kissed them gravely. "Lieutenant Tissaurd," he murmured, looking into her eyes from a deep bow, "I am known as Beyazh, a humble Fluvannian politician—and I am deeply honored to be in thy presence."

  Brim swore he could hear Tissaurd purr like a Halacian Rothcat.

  "I am honored by thy presence," she said quietly—almost privately. Her eyes were completely alert, yet her face had a languid aspect that could only be described—at the moment— as carnal. "How may I make this passage more meaningful to thee?" she asked, a little too assertively for Brim's likes.

  "Ah, Lieutenant," Beyazh sighed, "I have so little time to discover the
delights of this ship. Perhaps I can persuade you to be my tutor. By all that is holy, and perhaps a little that is unholy, as well," he added with a wink, "I vow to inwardly digest thy every word as if it were an on of the purest gold.''

  "I should be honored to be thy guide in all the passages and chambers of this ship," Tissaurd said, gleefully settling into her role. "Just so soon as my watch at the helm is finished."

  "My passion for this ship is such that I may not be able to tarry that long," Beyazh moaned. He looked beseechingly at Brim. "Captain," he said. "You did promise to relieve Lieutenant Tissaurd of her present duties, did you not?"

  Brim took a deep breath. "I did," he admitted, now struggling to smother the smile that threatened to inundate his face.

  "In that case, I beseech you to do your duty," the Fluvannian said, his eyes again fastened on Brim's as if the request were actually an order.

  "Number One," Brim said, feeling ridiculously as if he were about to relate something that the good-looking officer already knew, "I promised Ambassador Beyazh that I would stand the last metacycles of your watch myself."

  "Oh, Captain," Tissaurd said in an excited voice, "how thoughtful! And of course, Starfury is already running under autohelm."

  Brim smiled in spite of himself as Tissaurd led Beyazh into the aft companionway. She could be so awfully appealing. And whatever else he might turn out to be, it seemed clear that the Fluvannian Ambassador was a man of action who also recognized a well-turned ankle when he saw one. All in all, Starfury's first trip to Fluvanna promised to be a lively one—at the very least.

  FLUVANNA

  Kingdom of Fluvanna

  Nabob: Mustafa IX Eyren, The Magnificent

  Planets: 916; Inhabited: 8: Andronicus, Calleri'l, Dragases, Ordu, Voso Gannit, Voso Gola, Voso Tuvalu, and Wogoria

  Population: (est. 52009) 47,250,000 (average annual growth: 2.2%)

  Capital: Magor, Ordu

  Monetary Unit: Fluvannian Credit

  Language: Fluvannian

  Economic Summary: Gross Dominion Product: C166 billion; Per-capita Income: C1,460; Habitable Land used for agriculture: 43%; Principal Products: cotton, mu'occo tobacco, cereals, sugar beets, nuts; Labor Force in Industry: 16%; Major Products: celecoid quartz kernels, textiles, processed foods, hullmetal; Natural Resources: celecoid quartz kernels, chromate, copper; Exports: celecoid quartz kernels, cotton, mu'occo tobacco, fruits, nuts, processed livestock; Major Trading Partners: The Empire and associated states, esp. Sodeskaya.

  GENERAL: Most modern travelers visit Fluvanna to observe its rich heritage of archaeological sites and historical monuments. Numerous cultures have flourished there over a span of millennia, at least ten abandoning unique artifacts before the dawn of recorded history. Magor, the capital city, is located on Ordu, largest of eight planets supporting permanent population centers. With an enormous variety of topography and scenery ranging from semitropical vacation planets with white sand beaches and rivieras of colorful flora (Ordu, Andron-icus, and Dragases), dense rain forests and vcee' plantations (Wogoria and Calleri'l), to rugged landscapes of the Voso Triad, gateways of the domain's celecoid quartz kernel growing areas, linchpins of Fluvannian economic life.

  As many writers on Fluvanna have remarked, this is a domain that stands astride two mutually repelling elements: an overwhelming historical heritage and the inexorable march of progress. With one foot in the past and the other in the present, the population is gripped in a cultural schizophrenia that often seems confusing to outsiders, but which is always a source of considerable interest.

  Contemporary Fluvanna may at first strike the visitors as a somber and troubled domain, having suffered in recent years from severe economic and political problems. But this has not in the least diminished the genuine warmth and friendliness of the Fluvannians themselves, whose hospitality to visitors is proverbial. One should be prepared to encounter the Fluvannian greeting wherever he goes on these friendly planets; "Zin ilegs'oh!" (Welcome!), responding with "Kud lubs'oh!" (We are pleased to be here!).

  New Consort Guidebook For Fluvanna

  Brim piloted Starfury to lightward over downtown Magor while Beyazh provided a running travelogue from his observer's seat directly behind Tissaurd in the CoHelmsman's position.

  "Magnificent!" the diplomat enthused, waxing poetic as he peered out over the starship's nose. "A golden island surrounded by a garland of waters, if you will." He pointed through the Hyperscreens. "That garland is the Hiemial, an incomparably beautiful waterway that flows from Lake Gonfall—which we overflew only moments ago—into the Gulf of Varn, that large body of water you can see ahead of us. Its two branches separate the ancient, insular part of the city from its more modern boroughs and suburbs on either side. I myself live just beyond the left branch, near the great domed structure atop that first range of hills."

  "The harbor section is on the far bank of that branch, I take it," Brim commented.

  "Correct, Captain," Beyazh said. "The 'Levantine Quarter,' as it is known. A military base forms its boundary upriver, farthest from the Gulf. You can see a number of our capital ships are in port today."

  Brim nodded musingly. Even from this altitude he could see that the warships were clearly from bygone epochs. Calhoun's advisement of their years, however, had done little to prepare him for how really ancient they were. The fleet yard looked more like a colossal museum man a military base. Two were clearly of the ancient Charles Martel design with ventral armament in the "lozenge" arrangement favored by starship designers of more man five hundred Standard Years past: twin-mount center-pivot turrets mounted fore and aft and two more on either beam sponsoned out over the tumblehome. Others shipped two squat KA'PPA masts with flying decks running between them. Altogether, an odd collection of antiquated warships from all over the galaxy.

  "Opposite the Levantine," Beyazh continued after a deep breath, "across that large bridge midway along the island—is the most impressive basilica ever constructed by the Gradgroat-Norchelites."

  "With exception of the great monastery of Atalanta, perhaps," Brim interrupted dryly, trimming the ship's head a little beyond the published landing vector to adjust for a strong cross-wind.

  "Ah yes," Beyazh said, interrupting his discourse, "I have admired the Atalantan campaign ribbon you wear. You were there at the Battle of Atalanta to see the monastery go, weren't you?"

  "No," Brim answered. "I was out in space aboard Regula Collingswood's Defiant," Brim replied. "But I followed the action by KA'PPA after Nik Ursis deciphered the Norchelite maxim."

  " 'In destruction is resurrection; the path of power leads through truth,' " Beyazh quoted while his hand unconsciously began to massage the back of Tissaurd's neck. "What a surprise that turned out to be!"

  Brim nodded, glancing across at the man just in time to see Tissaurd smile a little, then slap the caressing hand without taking her eyes off the readouts before her.

  "Imperial K5054," a Fluvannian controller warned from the COMM panel. "Traffic lightward bound: League cruiser L1037, twelve irals at red-orange."

  Brim glanced out the starboard Hyperscreens as a big Gorn-Hoff GH-210 cruiser materialized out of the distance in a tight bank, curving around onto a parallel path into the landing zone. "Thank you, ma'am," he acknowledged, "I have him."

  The Leaguer ship was as angular as Starfury was contoured, and had clearly just come directly from outer space because her complex conformation of deck houses and great frowning bridge were still glowing from the heat of entry. She also appeared larger, by perhaps ten percent, although her heterogeneous nature made this nearly impossible to estimate by sight. The bristling armament she carried, however, was anything but equivocal: fifteen 321-mmi disrupters were a powerful battery by anyone's reckoning, even though any one of them was smaller than Starfury's twelve battleship-size 406s. Brim watched cautiously as the big ship bore down on him at what seemed like reckless speed—sailing in peacetime rig and war paint, as the saying went.

  "Com
ing this way awfully fast, isn't he?" Beyazh commented in a needling tone of voice. "Do you suppose you ought to give way to him?"

  Brim continued steadily on course. "He's probably coming a bit faster than necessary," he said calmly, "but I doubt if he's outside the control envelope for that type of Gorn-Hoff. I'm keeping an eye on him."

  Silence descended on the bridge as the crew watched thirty-some thousand milstons of hullmetal bearing down on them like a meteor. Only at the last possible moment did the Leaguers swing onto a new heading, impinging on Starfury's airspace by nearly half a c'lenyt before settling down on a parallel track.

  "Sloppy helmsmanship," Tissaurd commented after a few moments, but even her voice had a slight edge to it.

  "Do you think perhaps they wanted us to move over?" Brim asked with a grin.

  "I was about to suggest something like that," Beyazh said, but there was clear approval in his eyes.

  "Imperial K5054: you are four c'lenyts from the marker," announced the controller. "Secure the localizer above two thousand five hundred irals. You are cleared for instrument landing, two seven left approach."

  "Cleared for instrument landing two seven left approach Imperial K5054," Brim acknowledged. Checking his altitude, he gently heeled the cruiser into a shallow bank—away from the Leaguer ship at the same time it banked in the other direction, obviously getting its own simultaneous landing clearance. "I think we'll keep an eye out for that one," Brim said, starting down toward a ruby beacon that had just begun to flash from the distant surface of the Gulf. On the nav panel before him, two units of different hues quickly merged into a third,