The Mercenaries

by Bill Baldwin

  Brim was suddenly aware of Margot, who seemed to be avoiding everyone's eyes—including his own. Her hair was disheveled and she fairly reeked of TimeWeed. No wonder she'd looked the way she did. Forcing back a rising gorge, he nodded to Barbousse. "Kill him," he said.

  "Aye, Cap'm," Barbousse replied, knuckling his forehead. Gently lifting the wounded Agnord in his arms, he headed for the stand of young trees nearby.

  Brim turned as Tissaurd began to speak. "What were you doing in that building, LaKarn?" she demanded. "You didn't lift a finger to help the Captain. Why?"

  "I—I did everything I could," Margot said in a dull voice, still avoiding Brim's eyes. "But I wasn't armed," she slurred, weaving back and forth on her feet. "I... er... ran for the inn to call for the police."

  "Interesting," Tissaurd said. "I wonder where those police are. You'd think even Fluvannians would have shown up by now."

  "I c-couldn't get anyone to answer the door," Margot answered. "I t-tried...."

  From the corner of his eye. Brim watched Barbousse emerge on the far side of the trees, striding briskly toward the bridge with a limp form slung over his shoulder.

  "Nobody answered the door?" Tissaurd exclaimed in open disbelief. "That's Gorksroar, pure and simple! Palmerston managers are at that desk all night, every night. I ought to know; I get laid there now and then myself!" She shook her head for a moment, then dismissed the Baroness with an angry wave of her hand, "Let her go," she said to the Chiefs. "That was all I needed to hear."

  The two immediately released their prisoner, who staggered a few steps, then lost her balance and collapsed in a heap on the grass.

  "WUN-der-ful," Tissaurd growled while Brim hurried to help Margot to her feet. "Skipper, how in Voot's name can you do that when this blond zukeed just set you up for a pack of Agnords?"

  "We can't just leave her here," Brim replied, nearly overcome with anguish.

  "The Cap'm's right, Lieutenant," Barbousse put in, cleaning his knife with a dark-colored handkerchief. "I think we probably had better get the Princess back to her ship; otherwise..." He raised his hands in supplication.

  "1 know," Tissaurd pouted, "another 'inter-domain incident.' Right?"

  "Aye, Lieutenant," Barbousse said quietly.

  While Brim helplessly supported the flaccid wreck of a woman he had once loved, he saw bright headlight beams swing into the park and race toward him. At the last moment, their source —an arrogant Majestat-Baron limousine skimmer—slewed sideways and came to a halt no more than twenty irals from where he stood, its powerful generators purring at idle. Four tall Controllers from the League catapulted out of the passenger compartment and strode imperiously toward Brim and Margot, completely ignoring the array of powerful blasters aimed at their heads.

  "Baroness," one of them said as if she were alone in the park, "where have you been, my dear? We were worried."

  Margot absently touched a lock of her hair and turned slowly to face the four sinister figures before her. "I h-have... been out to supper," she slurred, reaching toward him like a small child.

  "We shall return you to your ship immediately. Your Highness," the Controller said, taking an outstretched arm,

  "Get your xaxtdamned hands off her," Brim growled, but Barbousse appeared wraithlike at his side to gently place a restraining hand on his forearm.

  "It's better this way, Cap'm" the big rating said in a low voice. "She'll need her TimeWeed soon enough."

  Brim ground his teeth while bitter tears filled his eyes. Barbousse was right. It was the only way.

  Now completely supported by the big Controller, Margot turned toward him one last time, and he felt he could almost touch her mind. Almost.... With an unfathomable expression in her eyes, she stumbled into the limousine; a moment later she was gone once more from his life in a cool breeze of gravitons and receding tail lamps.

  Followed by Tissaurd in one of the IVG vans, Brim returned his rented skimmer, then climbed in beside his diminutive First Lieutenant while she drove back to the launch that had carried her and the Chiefs from Varnholm. The woman was clearly angry: too much for any relevant conversation. All she would say concerning the fracas that night—and for a long time to come—was, "That LaKarn woman is no longer your friend, Wilf Brim. Mark my words. She is out to have you killed."

  * * *

  During the three weeks following Brim's "incident" at Palmerston Park, relations between the League of Dark Stars and Fluvanna deteriorated at an even speedier rate than before, with accusations and counteraccusations spicing each new edition of the media. Strangely enough—at least to Brim—the Leaguers themselves continued to breathe life into the disappearance of R.F.S. Rurik. Insisting that the old armored cruiser was being hidden somewhere by Fluvanna's own Admiralty, they continued a succession of accusations that she was actually a spy ship. Further, they alleged that she had been used routinely for covert operations against the League and her allies, especially The Torond. The aspersions made no sense, but then, politics of any ilk made little sense to Brim.

  One morning just before dawn, he was on his way back to Starfury from a chilly, predawn jog along the strand when Ursis met him at gravity pool one, where S.S. Maksim Litvinov, one of the big AkroKahn cargo liners, had moored the night before. The Sodeskayan had a look of deep concern on his face as he waved Brim to a halt.

  "Morning, Nik," Brim panted, grabbing the Bear's huge biceps in friendship. "You look mighty concerned for such an early juncture."

  Ursis nodded and placed a six-fingered hand over Brim's. "Deeply sorry to interrupt exercise, Wilf Ansor," he called over the roar of nearby repulsion generators, "but Commodore Calhoun asked that you be notified immediately."

  Brim frowned, noting the uninterrupted succession of ghostly rings spreading from the ship's tall KA'PPA tower—something was definitely up. "Notified about what?" he asked. "Sounds bad."

  "Perhaps 'inevitable' is better word than 'bad,' " the Bear said, "but 'appalling' also applies—'disastrous,' as well. In short, my furless friend, war has restarted or"—he checked the huge, old-fashioned timepiece he kept in a special pocket—"will have started in about two metacycles." He shook his head. "Sodeskayan intelligence organizations are best in Universe, yet not infallible. Were they perfect, we should have information you are about to learn at least two Standard Days in past. As things stand, we know what is about to happen, but we have no time to prevent it without revealing our sources." Glancing up for a moment at the big ship's lofty bridge, he bowed and indicated the brow. "Commodore Calhoun requests your sweaty presence in the Communications Room," he said, "immediately."

  Brim nodded, suddenly aware of the cold, gray morning around him—it seemed appropriate—then he stepped into the brow. Moments later he and Ursis were striding along a passageway deep within the hull of the great vessel. "Kind of laid out like a warship with the COMM room down here between the Drive bays," Brim commented with a smile.

  "A warship?" Ursis gasped, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "But how could that be? We Sodeskayans are always peaceful."

  "Except when you're angry," Brim said.

  "Is true," Ursis admitted with a grin, then held up a tutorial finger. " 'Lightning and snug caves seldom bleach fur of young crag wolves,' as they say."

  "As they say..." Brim averred, his eyes raised to the heavens.

  "I knew you'd understand," the Bear said, fastidiously examining his claws.

  When they arrived at Litvinov's COMM room. Brim was ushered directly into the ultra-secret transmission chamber. Calhoun sat at one of the big KA'PPA consoles, busily operating the complex mechanism himself from an old-fashioned keyboard. Beside him in chairs hastily drawn up to form a temporary conference room, Moulding and McKenzie sipped steaming hot cvceese'. Motioning Brim to a third chair drawn up beside the console, the Commodore completed his KA'PPA conversation—if interactive transmission of ancient symbolic characters could be considered "conversation"—then he turned and scowled. "For your information, B
rim," he said angrily, " 'tis but a few metacycles afore Nergol Triannic begins war on Fluvanna." He shook his head. "And mere is nothin' any o' us can do aboot it."

  "I don't understand," Brim said.

  "You wull in a moment," Calhoun growled. "An' shortly after that, you'll need to hae your ships out in space. I've already ordered Tissaurd to ready your Red squadron for immediate liftoff."

  "I still don't know what..." Brim started, but Calhoun cut him off with a wave of the hand.

  "Neither do these two gentlemen with me," the Commodore said. "I've been waiting for you, laddie." He sat back in the console's recliner for a moment, studying a screen full of characters from the KA'PPA, then swiveled to face the three Captains. "When you've got mair time, gentlemen, you'll be able to read the whole thing, just as it unfolded on the KA'PPA," he said. "But for the nonce, you'll have to do with my personal synopsis. Otherwise, you might miss the first event. An' I don't think any of you wull want to do that." With that, he launched into such an account of double-dealing and treachery that Brim found himself absolutely staggered.

  Chapter 8

  Prelude to Chaos

  "Turns out," Calhoun began, "that auld R.F.S. Rurik ne'er was lost, at least so far as the bloody League was concerned. They captured her the day she was reported missing—and she's in their hands right noo."

  "Why?" Brim asked in astonishment. "What in the name of Voot would they want with that antique?"

  "And how did they manage to snatch her before she at least got off a couple of messages?" Moulding interjected.

  Calhoun laughed. "Young Brim, we'll get to the question aboot why they did it in a moment. Your friend's how is a lot easier." He turned to Moulding. "They blew away the auld ship's KA'PPA mast with their first salvo, then before she could slow enough for a normal transmission, they blanketed her with a bubble of free electrons. Rurik never had a chance."

  "They got her KA'PPA with the first salvo?" Brim gasped. "But they must have fired at fantastic range; otherwise, the Fluvannian crew would have done a lot of broadcasting when they saw the Leaguer cruiser bearing down on them,"

  Calhoun nodded his head. "All too true, laddie," he said. " 'Twas definitely a lang-range shot. Nergol Triannic hae fine gunners in his fleet; we've known that since the last war. But there's still anither part o' the story," he added. "Through Mustafa, we've learned that Leaguers weren't prevaricatin' aboot one thing, at least. Rurik actually was on a spy mission. That's another reason her captain waited too long afore she called for help." For a moment, his gray eyes focused on another time and another place. "A fine woman, she was," he growled quietly. "The zukeeds will pay in blood for the likes o' her, A lot o' blood."

  "I suppose she was spying on that new Leaguer space fort on the Zonga'ar asteroid shoal," McKenzie said.

  "That's what Nik Ursis tells me, but there's a lot more to it than that. So I'll let him tell you about the rest in person—it's his Intelligence service that's supplied most of the information."

  Everyone turned toward the huge Sodeskayan who was sharing a workstation with a smaller female Bear whom Brim guessed was very attractive. She was small, reddish in color, and had a most compelling sparkle in her eyes. She also had large, furry ears, a mark of exceptional beauty among Sodeskayans he had met so far.

  "Rurik was indeed spying," Ursis declared while he slowly rose to his feet, "on that new space fort at Zonga'ar the Leaguers have constructed just outside the fifty light-year demarcation between Fluvanna's occupied planets and intragalactic space. It seems clear now that they're building it as a base for their campaign against Fluvanna—and that will make it one of our principal targets. The squadron that took Rurik embarked from that base, so it is already serving limited use. Eventually, we shall have to take it out." He pursed his lips. "Indications are that they've initially housed three squadrons of Dampier cruisers from The Torond there. You'll be fighting those ships first."

  "Somehow, I'm not surprised," Moulding said. "Leaguers have a history of letting other people fight their wars for them. At least in the beginning."

  "I guess it all leads back to my first question, then," Brim persisted. "Why did they bother to capture the old spy ship anyway? If they had good enough fire control to blow off a KA'PPA mast at long range, why didn't they simply put a salvo right through the hull? I can't imagine an ancient armored cruiser being much use to a squadron of new Dampiers."

  The Bear nodded. "That is where the real treachery comes in," he growled, glancing up at a time display mounted over the KA'PPA console. "In little more than two metacycles, a Leaguer crew of Agnords flying old Rurik will attack and destroy the S.S. Lombog, a small passenger liner run by the League's own Central Bureau of Transport. The little vessel is traveling with every stateroom booked. She lifted three days ago from Tarrott, bound for Voso Gola, the Fluvannian vacation planet. Triannic's Pan-Dominion Tour Service offered special low prices to government employees on furlough."

  "Sweet thraggling Universe," Moulding whispered in horror. "Now it makes sense. Triannic will use the attack on S.S. Lombog to..." He couldn't finish his sentence.

  "Nergol Triannic will use the attack as an excuse to declare war on Fluvanna," Ursis said, taking control of the conversation again, "for as everyone knows, starships are considered sovereign territory just as if they were part of a planet somewhere. So when it seems that S.S. Lombog is destroyed on direct orders of Mustafa himself, it will be just as if he had ordered an attack on one of the Leaguer planets."

  "And Rurik will be crewed by Agnords,'' McKenzie groaned, still wide-eyed with horror.

  "Only at first, my friend," Ursis replied. "Those bloody Leaguers are a lot more unscrupulous than that. At their orders, the Agnords murdered everyone aboard Rurik soon after she was boarded, then towed her back to their new space fort and preserved the bodies. As soon as they patched up Rurik enough to fly—evidently, that was late yesterday—they lifted off and are now ready for their 'attack' on Lombog. When that's done, they'll put those same corpses back in Rurik at the exact stations where they were killed. Then they'll exit the old cruiser in a launch while a couple of The Torond's new Dampiers burn it, in turn—leaving just enough debris for positive identification."

  "After that," Brim interjected, "Hanna Notrom's Ministry for Public Consensus will shriek that a 'hideous crime' has been perpetrated by Fluvanna, and shortly thereafter, Nergol Triannic will declare war in the name of defense."

  "You've got it, laddie," Calhoun broke in. "That is precisely how they wull prevent Prince Onrad from quickly invoking our Mutual Assistance Treaty wi' Fluvanna. The crime wull be so heinous—literally hundreds of innocent civilians burned to death aboard the harmless Lombog—that the CIGAs wull have little trouble tying the Admiralty in political knots, at least long enough for the Leaguers and their allies to make a guid start on things here in Fluvanna."

  "Eventually the CIGAs have to lose that fight," Brim interjected. "They won't be able to hold back the treaty forever."

  "Aye," Calhoun agreed grimly, "but such a day wull come only after lang parliamentary debates. That, o' course, is why we are here." He glanced up at the time display again. "Well," he said grimly, "if the Leaguers are punctual as they are normally, the attack on Lombog wull begin precisely two cycles from now, give or take a few clicks for gravity corrections out there." He nodded toward the door, "It's high time the three o' you get your Starfuries out in space; no telling what kind of timetable they're on. The first Dampier attacks could come quickly." He nodded. "You'll be able to follow this travesty as it unfolds thro' the news media. Today, I'll ride with Brim; Nik wull keep us posted by KA'PPA as the Sodeskayans come up with new information. Oh and, McKenzie, you and Brim will trade one starship each mission we fly. That way, nobody will be left behind without a bit of combat experience. Any questions?"

  "Only one, Commodore," Moulding said. "How will we find out when Fluvanna has declared war back? I assume we oughtn't to go around blowing up Toronder warships until all
the paperwork's done."

  Calhoun made a cold smile. "Your assumption's dead wrong, my friend," he said dourly. "After the first media announcements, feel free to blast any Toronders you see, as well as any ship that belongs to their bosses, the Leaguers. Certain enemy vessels wull be off limits during the next week or so, like the anes that carry their diplomatic staff back home. But I'll specifically identify those for you. From noo through the end o' the war, consider them all fair game—and shoot before you find yourself bein' shot at. Got mat?"

  "Got it," Brim said, getting up from his chair. He turned to Moulding. "Toby, I'll see you out on the bay at... let's make it Dawn:2:50."

  "Dawn:2:50," Moulding confirmed. He grinned. "Don't be surprised if I'm there a little early. I think I started getting myself ready for this a long time ago...."

  * * *

  Less than two metacycles later, at precisely Morning:1:17, Brim lifted R.F.S. Starfury from Penard Bay under a heavy overcast with Stefan MacAlda's R.F.S. Starspite tucked close to starboard and half a length astern. Moments later they thundered over Varnholm Hall. Below, Brim glimpsed a small crowd waving from the keep, then abruptly the outside Universe was swallowed by a gray blanket of cloud. On the other side of the Hyperscreens, only a radiance in the whiteness marked the planet's star, Ephail, but a good Helmsman could judge the angle of climb by that alone.

  At about twelve thousand irals they came out into clear air, and Brim, almost blinded by the brilliant whiteness on all sides, glimpsed deep blue sky above him. Soon, they were climbing steadily through a crystalline-clear atmosphere. Below, the receding planet speedily became a plain of white cotton where nothing stirred. As far as the eye could see—for hundreds, soon thousands of square c'lenyts—stretched soft cloud-continents with occasional crevasses between them like wide rivers. Brim never tired of the spectacle; it was part and parcel of the milieu called space flight.

  As Starfury climbed out toward space, Ephail kept the whole bridge wrapped in brilliant gold light. Brim held it in the same position on his right, flying with the exhilaration that landsmen could only imagine, occasionally turning his head to insure that MacAlda was still keeping R.F.S. Starspite in position to starboard. Off to port, the second pair of Starfuries, R.F.S. Starvengeance and R.F.S. Starconstant, were climbing at the same speed as MacAlda and himself, all four ships at different relative altitudes. Looking back along their shimmering flight path, he watched Moulding in R.F.S. Starsovereign lead the second four-ship quad out of the clouds. Then the brightness outside began to fail with the atmosphere, and they started into the utter darkness of space.