Though Hell Should Bar the Way - eARC

by David Drake

  Lal came in from the hold, holding the glowing wrench with which he’d shorted the switch. He looked dazed. He flung the wrench against the deck; the heat of the steel must have finally gotten through the gauntlet.

  I went over to Monica. Her hands and feet were still tied to stanchions so that she couldn’t sit up.

  I was wobbly myself. There were burned patches on the soles of both of Rajiv’s bare feet but nothing like the extensive charring on the worm’s hide from a similar jolt. It had done the job, though.

  I tried to untie Monica’s legs, but I couldn’t manage it even after I’d taken my gauntlets off. The cable cutter was still hanging from my tool belt. It was awkward on ordinary rope, but a final jerk broke the last uncut fibers. I moved to her wrists.

  “Thank you, Lal,” Monica said. “I couldn’t have survived that again. I would have killed myself.”

  “Mistress,” Lal said. “You and the captain have treated me like a man, like your equal. The Singhs treated me like the dog they called me, as they would have done on Kashgar. Mistress, we were no longer on Kashgar.”

  I straightened as Monica shook off the tag ends of her bonds. “We’re still in the Matrix, Lal,” I said. “I think that’s a good place to leave the Singhs. They can have a bubble universe all to themselves.”

  I changed my suit before I grabbed Rajiv’s ankles and started dragging him to the airlock. After this, I could plot a course to a world with a repair yard.

  CHAPTER 29

  I won’t say we exactly needed the Annotated Charts after all, but it made my decision to set our course for Benedict easier than it would have been if I’d only had the notation benedict alongside the coordinates in the console—the data on the Alfraz when we boarded it. I figured the course for three working antennas and the starboard rig telescoped and folded.

  Lal and I could have worked the topsail, but it would have been dangerous as well as brutally hard. We were better running crippled to a port three days away where we could get parts and repairs.

  If the rig were in proper form, I wouldn’t have worried about not being able to refill the mass tank. I wasn’t willing to trust a dicey rig and a nonworking pump to the present very short crew of the Alfraz. Not if I had a choice, anyway.

  Monica smiled as I started to explain my reasoning to her. “Roy,” she said. “I want to know what we’re doing—that’s simple courtesy. But I don’t need to know your professional reasoning. I’m not qualified to understand it, let alone judge it.”

  That was true enough. As with Lal, though, I’d have felt less alone if there’d been somebody I could discuss things with.

  The trouble was, there was nobody within three days’ sail who could do that. If Monica refused to lift some of the responsibility that was mine alone, I should be thankful.

  Albeit really lonely.

  * * *

  Lal and I went out together to check the clamps on the starboard rig. I’d given up on the notion of tweaking the mainsail to emulate the missing topsail when I considered that we were down to a crew of two again. A jammed mainsail would be a real problem if it couldn’t be cleared immediately, and that job would take three spacers; or better, four.

  In the airlock, before I put on my helmet, I said, “I appreciate what you did, Lal. I was about to jump Rajiv. One or the other brother would have shot me.”

  “Captain,” Lal said, “you saved my life, and you have always treated me like a man. What the Singhs would have done was on my honor, because I brought them to you. Even such as I have honor.”

  The air in the lock was getting thin. We both quickly put on our helmets, which ended the conversation. I squeezed his gauntleted hand before opening the lock, though.

  * * *

  We made Benedict orbit in just within the three days I’d guessed. I was over a hundred thousand miles out when we got a microwave hail from a customs launch, “Benedict One to unidentified vessel, state your business. Over.”

  “Monica?” I said. She was on the striker’s seat, watching an image of the planet. “I’m trying to jump us closer in. Can you handle the commo?”

  I had a splitting headache, but she probably did also. We’d both feel better on the ground, so focusing on getting there was a win for everybody.

  “Freighter Alfraz out of ben Yusuf requests permission to land in Howardport for refitting,” Monica said. “Over.”

  There were incremental jumps preset into the console, but they’d been calculated for a full rig. I doubt they’d have been much use to previous captains either, because very few tramps were operating with a full rig. Our present condition was extreme but not unheard of, even on Cinnabar,

  “Benedict to Alfraz,” the microwave said. “Say again your leaving port, over?”

  “Benedict, Captain Olfetrie recaptured this ship from pirates in the port of Salaam on ben Yusuf,” Monica said. I could see tension on her face, but her voice seemed as calm as ever. “Do we have permission to land and refit, over?”

  The response took almost a minute. The control vessel was obviously checking with superiors on the ground. As I finished my calculations, the microwave said, “Roger, Alfraz. You may land in the berth you will be assigned in Howardport. Benedict One, Over.”

  “Crew,” I said, “We’re making a positioning jump before we start braking to land. Preparing to insert—now.”

  * * *

  My second extraction brought us out within twenty thousand miles, which was almost too close. Howardport Control was marginally polite when it assigned us a landing place, and I wasn’t surprised to see a pair of armored cars waiting on the quay when the steam had cooled enough for me see anything through the ship’s sensors.

  I opened the ship as promptly as I could and stood at the end of the ramp with my arms crossed behind my back, trying to look clean-cut and harmless. A bit to my surprise, Monica came and joined me.

  “I’m planning to be polite and agree with anything they say,” I explained while port personnel readied an extension from the quay to our outrigger. The Alfraz didn’t carry an extension of her own. I’d bought an inflatable boat in Plaquemines, but in this case the authorities certainly didn’t want us traipsing into their city until they’d given us a thorough vetting.

  “Of course,” said Monica with a touch of irritation. I noticed that the barrette was back in her hair.

  I didn’t respond. I’d rather be accused of stating the obvious than I would of failing to give somebody necessary information that I’d thought was obvious.

  The port authorities were three civilians and four men wearing dull-blue uniforms. Their carbines were slung, which is better than guns pointing at us, but I wondered if maybe we shouldn’t have said we came from Karst.

  “My name’s Hobbins,” said the older male civilian. He was in his fifties and reasonably fit without being in the least athletic. “We’re here to inspect your vessel and its cargo.”

  I gave him a short bow, because from his tone I wasn’t sure he’d accept my hand if I offered it. “Of course, sir,” I said. “The ship is completely open; the console is live and there are no protected sectors in it. We have no cargo, and there’s only one spacer besides myself. His name’s Lal and he’s from Kashgar.”

  Hobbins nodded to his companions. The younger civilians went up the ramp, accompanied by two of the uniformed men. The other two stayed with Hobbins and us.

  “Would you like us to explain how we came to be here?” Monica volunteered. I’d been waiting for Hobbins to ask his next question.

  He smiled at her. “Ben Yusuf isn’t a normal trading partner for Benedict,” he said. “For us or for any civilized planet in this region. So yes, I would like to know.”

  “Roy, you’d better tell him,” Monica said. “I didn’t know anything about it until we escaped.”

  “Lal and I were spacers on the Martinique,” I said. That was a lie, but not one that could be proved. “We were captured by pirates and taken to Salaam on ben Yusuf. I was made a slave in
the Admiral’s palace. I met Mistress Smith there; she was a harem slave and wanted to escape home to Saguntum. With Lal’s help, we captured a ship in the harbor and are in the process of sailing to Saguntum.”

  I turned my hands up. “We had mechanical failures,” I said. “Which is scarcely surprising. We landed on Benedict for repairs, which we’re able to pay for.”

  “An admirably succinct account,” Hobbins said. “But quite a remarkable one. You must be very resourceful people, and very lucky.”

  “If we make it to Saguntum,” I said, “you can call us lucky.”

  “No,” said Monica sharply. “Roy, we’re very lucky. I couldn’t have lasted much longer in that palace. At least I can die in clean air now.”

  Hobbins looked at Monica oddly. “Mistress Smith?” he said. “If I may ask you, how old are you?”

  “I’m twenty,” Monica said, meeting his eyes. Her voice was neutral, but neither of us knew where this was going. “In standard years, that is.”

  Hobbins nodded. “The same age as my daughter,” he said. “Well, let’s go aboard your ship and see what my colleagues have found.”

  “Nothing that will help do much for your customs receipts, I’m afraid,” I said as we walked up the ramp. The two guards—armed police?—followed us without comment. “All we have is food for the voyage.”

  “My colleagues are from Tax and Customs,” Robbins said calmly. “I, on the other hand, am in the Directorate of External Affairs.”

  I stubbed my toe on the ramp and stumbled. I looked at Robbins closely. “Pretty high up, I would guess,” I said.

  He smiled but continued to look ahead. “I’m not a politician,” he said. “A business involving the pirates of ben Yusuf was going to land on my desk eventually, so I decided I’d take a hand at once.”

  Aboard the Alfraz, Lal stood silently in a corner of the cabin while the civilians were at both positions of the console. The woman on the couch at the main display turned her head and said, “Sir, according to the log they lifted from ben Yusuf, touched on a world that’s just an alphanumeric, then Plaquemines, and finally here. No indication of piracy or, for that matter, anything else.”

  “Logs can be doctored,” said the young male civilian on the striker’s seat. “And there are two guns in the locker.”

  “Logs can’t be doctored by me!” I said. I was probably a little hotter than I should have been, but it was a nonsense claim. “And yeah, there are two pistols in the locker. Are there any tramps in this region that wouldn’t be true about?”

  Before the customs man could respond, Hobbins raised his hand. “I don’t believe we’re dealing with pirates, Rawlins,” he said. “A pair of very fortunate young people, it seems to me.” As an afterthought, he glanced at Lal and smiled. “And their crewman.”

  “Well, Darlene and I have been told that this is in your hands, sir,” said the male customs man. He stepped away from the console.

  “Yes,” said Hobbins. “It is.”

  He looked at me and said, “Captain Olfetrie, what are your plans now?”

  “Well, if we’re free to leave the ship,” I said, “I’ll see about getting a replacement tower gear and an electrician to rewire the switch that I damaged in electrocuting an animal that crawled aboard while we were taking on water. Can you recommend a ship chandler?”

  “I can’t,” Hobbins said, “but I believe—”

  He glanced toward the other civilians. The woman said, “Sir, my brother’s a partner in LaJoie and Company. They’ve got a good reputation.”

  “Yeah, they’re okay,” said her male colleague, possibly trying to make up for his earlier behavior.

  “Then Mistress Smith and I will check with LaJoie,” I said. “Ah—are Alliance thalers good on Benedict?”

  “They pass as current here,” Hobbins said. “And you are free to go, yes.”

  “I’d like to get some food,” Monica said. “Particularly fresh fruit. I can see stands on the waterfront. Roy, you don’t need me to take care of the repairs.”

  “Then I hope your business on Benedict will be successful,” Hobbins said, making a little bow. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.”

  I let out a deep breath. It had certainly been a pleasure to meet him.

  * * *

  I probably could have found my way to LaJoie and Company myself, but Darlene said she was off duty now and guided me there. Not only did they take thalers, I thought to ask about the Karst sequins I’d brought from ben Yusuf. I was able to get rid of those as well.

  I was feeling pretty pleased with life as I ambled back to the Alfraz, carrying the replacement tower gear. It was heavy enough to switch from one hand to the other, but not heavy enough that I regretted leaving Lal with the ship.

  I’d offered him liberty until the next morning, but he’d said he’d rather stay. He was still embarrassed about the Singhs, though there was no reason. I’d been the one to hire them, and Monica had agreed.

  There were two vehicles parked on the quay as I returned from the chandlery. One was a little port-authority jitney with a saddle in front on which the driver still sat and a bench over the back wheels that would hold two if they were friends. The other was a four-wheeled gray car with an ID legend stencilled in black and the name HKS Meduse. The car might be armored, but the pintle in the center was empty. It was obviously meant to support an automatic impeller or a missile launcher.

  People stood in the hold of the Alfraz, though nobody was shouting and I didn’t see weapons. I stopped beside the driver dozing on the jitney and tapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got commo on this,” I said. “Use it to raise the Directorate of External Affairs and tell Master Hobbins that there’s trouble at the Alfraz. I think the Karst destroyer in harbor is trying to pull something.”

  “What?” the driver said. “Who’re you? I don’t have anything to do with External Affairs!”

  “I’m Captain Olfetrie of Cinnabar,” I said truthfully. “And you won’t have anything to do with any bloody government job if you don’t pass the warning on to Master Hobbins before it blows up into a real crisis!”

  I walked up the ramp, whistling Don’t you remember sweet Alice? and holding the paper-wrapped gear in the crook of my left arm. I’d spoken to the driver with certainty. The only thing I was really certain about was that I was out of my depth. That was getting to be the usual thing. That realization made me smile.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I said as I approached the hatch.

  A woman in a blue uniform stepped out of the cabin to look at me. “And madame,” I said, entering the hold. “I’m Captain Olfetrie. May I ask the purpose of your visit?”

  Lal stood in the hold also, along with a man in a khaki uniform like that of the driver of the jitney. I handed the gear to Lal and said, “I want this installed soonest. I’ll be along to help as soon as I get free, but on the ground it shouldn’t be much of a job even for you alone.”

  “Captain?” Lal said. “They say we have stolen the ship.”

  I clapped Lal on the shoulder. “That’s above your pay grade,” I said, smiling. “Get to work on the rig and I’ll discuss the situation with our visitors.”

  Two blue-uniformed men came out of the cabin, followed by Monica. Her face was still.

  “You’re in command?” one of the men said. The silver script of his nametag was too worn for me to read it. He turned to the port-authority man in the hold and called, “Superintendent, I want this man arrested as a pirate!”

  “Sir?” I said to the superintendent. “I’ve just asked your driver to inform Master Hobbins of External Affairs about the situation and asked him to intervene. You might check on your man and make sure he’s done that. I fear he didn’t understand how much trouble he’ll get your department in if you try to handle this on your own.”

  The other male Karst officer was older than his colleague, forty or so, but he had hollow circles in place of pips on his collar and was obviously subordinate. He looked f
rom me to the first man and said, “I know the Alfraz, I was her captain until I sold her to the government and joined the navy. She’s a Karst ship.”

  “She may well have been,” I said, stepping past the Karst officers to get into the cabin. “The ben Yusuf pirates steal from anybody, as I understand it. Mistress Smith and I captured it from the pirates at Salaam and escaped with it. I’m perfectly willing to have the matter of ownership determined in court, but”—I smiled at the Karst officers as I put my hand on the airlock controls— “on Saguntum, please. Mistress Smith is a citizen, and I’m an officer of the Republic of Cinnabar Navy, who was shanghaied off my ship there.”

  I didn’t open the locker to get tools out—Lal had been wearing his belt when I ordered him to get to work on the antenna, which should be enough. My real concern was to get away from the Meduse’s officers until Hobbins or some other high-ranking local arrived. That might be hours.

  Before I could move into the lock—on the surface, the only way onto the hull was up a ladder welded onto the hull—an aircar passed over the Alfraz moving low and slow. I heard it circle and moments later land on the quay. Thank goodness.

  “Gentlemen and milady,” I said, passing the Karst personnel in the other direction, “I believe that will be the Benedict officials we’ve been waiting for.”

  I certainly hoped so, anyway. I led Monica and our visitors to the boarding ramp. Master Hobbins was already on the extension walkway, walking briskly toward us.

  “Sir!” I said, bracing myself to attention. Hobbins didn’t have military rank, but I wanted to impress on the Karst officers that he was important. “Midshipman Olfetrie, acting captain of the Alfraz, welcomes you aboard!”

  “Sir,” said the Meduse’s captain. “The Alfraz is a Karst ship and this fellow, whoever he is, isn’t captain of her!”

  “You’d be Lieutenant Sisk of the Meduse, I believe?” Hobbins said. His voice was calm but not warm.

  “Ah, yes, sir, I am,” the Karst officer said. “My sailing master here recognizes her.”