by S. N. Lewitt
"You will say that we lie, whatever our answers are. We all know that you are here at the behest of the Comes Riton and will do whatever he demands of you, for his pleasure and satisfaction, not for ours." It was the youngest one again, the one with the beautiful voice.
"We're here at the behest of the Twelve of the Magnicate Alliance, and the direct orders of the Fleet Commodore of the Harriers, Grands and Petits," said Haakogard for what he felt must certainly be the hundredth time. "The Comes Riton asked for our help, but we are not his men; we are Petit Harriers of the Magnicate Alliance." He looked over at the Mromrosi again, trying to learn something from the alien, but the shaggy curls remained pink, and for all the movement he made, he might as well have been asleep.
"You will serve the Comes Riton's honor. You will kill the alternate and that will be the end of the conflict. You will discharge your obligation." He was speaking more loudly, his voice ringing with emotion. "You will consent to it because it will end the dispute and your record will be favorable."
"That's not true," said Haakogard testily. "If it isn't fair to everyone, the Mromrosi won't allow it, and if it goes against the Alliance interests, the Twelve will forbid it." At least one of the Other Colonists was talking, he consoled himself as he took a long sip of his Bunter's concoction; the taste wasn't bad and it kept him awake.
"But by then we will be honorably dead," said the Other Colonist in gloomy satisfaction as his silent fellows gestured their agreement.
"No," said Haakogard, getting up and stretching. His shoulders were aching again, and in spite of the stimulants, he knew he needed sleep. His thoughts were turning woolly and thick. He went to the door and said softly to his Bunter, "Go get Navigator Zim, will you? Maybe they'll answer questions from her." Then he went back to his seat, and leaned over the back of it. "If you don't tell us what's going on, we will have to accept what the Comes Riton says. We don't want to do that, but we'll have to if there is no counterevidence to offer. Our hands are tied." It was a variation of the same case he had been pleading ever since the Other Colonists were brought aboard, and he did his best to make it convincing. "We do not want to make an expedient choice if that choice is wrong. Help us."
"You need nothing from us but our deaths," said the youngest one. He fixed Haakogard with his sand-colored eyes. "We are not afraid to die. Death will not dishonor us."
"Of course not," said Haakogard in exasperation. "You've made that obvious. But do you want to live, or is this a grand and tragic gesture you're making?" He could see that the Mromrosi was turning a darker pink; at least the alien observer was paying attention.
"We have more honor than that!" exclaimed the youngest Other Colonist, all but leaping to his feet.
The other two thumped the table with their hands as the youngest cried out, "You disdain us, you impugn—"
"I'm trying to make sense out of this," said Haakogard, cutting the other man's outburst short, "and you are not helping." He heard the door hiss preparatory to opening. "Zim? Sorry to get you up, but I need you."
Nola Zim had been asleep three minutes ago and had put on her simplest uniform, a single-piece coverall in matte gray with the horse-head insignia on the collar tabs. There were soft shadows under her eyes almost the same dark blue as her hair, and her voice was three notes lower than usual. "Why did you send for me, Line Commander?"
"Because I hoped you could help," said Haakogard, indicating a place at the table for her to sit. "Join us."
She went to the chair and was about to sink into it when the youngest of the Other Colonists nearly climbed onto the table, sand-colored eyes glowing. Zim stared at him, the last vestiges of sleep falling away from her like unwanted garments. "Tenre?" she whispered.
"It is you," he said, making a song of it.
She gazed at him, unmindful of the others in the conference room. "You were one of the men they caught?"
"To think I was so foolish that I cursed my luck," he said tenderly. "I should bow to these men for bringing me to you."
"Because they caught you?" She looked anxiously at Haakogard, but without the same tension she had shown when the Comes Riton had visited her. "How can you feel that way?"
"Because they caught me, I offer them my sublime thanks. Yes!" he exclaimed, one hand extended toward her. "I came here for you."
Haakogard nodded, satisfied at last. "The alternate, I presume?" he said, not expecting an answer.
At the far end of the table Thunghalis rose from his place, his features set in amazement. "Comes Riton. It is, it is the Comes Riton," he declared, abasing himself. "I am now doubly unworthy."
"Oh, no," Haakogard murmured, looking toward the ceiling as if he might find inspiration there.
The Other Colonist was shaken from his contemplation of Navigator Zim; his hand went to his belt though he no longer carried his throwing star there. "Do not speak of the Comes Riton, not to me. I want no part of him," said his alternate in the same mellifluous tones as the Comes Riton used.
"But—" Thunghalis began.
"I am Tenre, son of Syclicis," he stated in tones so firm no one could dispute them. "The Comes Riton is my clone, but I am not his alternate." He pounded the table and the two Other Colonists thumped along with him.
Thunghalis remained bent over. "I am stripped of all honor. Give me permission, O Most Excellent Comes, to expiate my wrongs before I compound them further. Allow me the comfort of an honorable death." He looked up at Tenre, his eyes eager for the chance to kill himself.
"Stop it," Haakogard interrupted. "There's no reason for any of this. Thunghalis, get up. You, Tenre, you sit down. We have a great deal left to discuss now that you're talking."
"While this woman stands, I cannot sit," said Tenre with feeling. "I would not offer her such an insult."
"Then sit down, Zim, so the rest of us can." Haakogard thought that under other circumstances he might find this amusing, like a festival game, but not at this hour of the night after his ships had been attacked. He studied Zim as he dropped into his seat, wondering if she were merely tired or something about the clone Tenre had actually captivated her. He hoped it was the former and not the latter.
Thunghalis was the last to obey Haakogard's suggestion, and he was obviously ill-at-ease complying. He sat hunkered down so that his head was lower than Tenre's, and he never took his eyes off the Comes Riton's clone.
"Why did you attack us?" Haakogard asked Tenre. He discovered that his warm and stimulating drink had gone cold, and he signaled to his Bunter to refill it as he waited for the answer. His head was starting to feel as if it were wrapped in pillows. Maybe, he thought, I should ask for a stronger stimulant, though he knew it was a bad idea.
Tenre did not answer at once, but directed his adoring gaze toward Zim. He spoke to her as if offering her an apology. "We weren't attacking you, not directly. You must believe this. We wanted it to be plain that we would not accept anything done by the Comes Riton, no matter what it was. He brought his men here, and his musicians, and that could only mean one thing. We realized that a truce was going to be signed and we were determined to show that we would resist you, no matter what the Comes Riton promised you, or what assurances he gave you." He folded his arms and regarded Thunghalis steadily for more than a minute before turning back to Zim again.
Haakogard felt like someone or something left over from a celebration, but he told himself not to regard his emotions. He cleared his throat, more for attention than because he was worn out. "Why would the men and musicians make you think we were signing a truce?"
For once Tenre looked directly at him as he answered. "How else is a truce declared, but with trumpets and gongs? That is the way it has been since the First Colony arrived and so it is now."
"But there is no question of a truce," said Zim, using this as an excuse to reach out and take his hand. "We have no power to enforce one even if we had been asked to negotiate one. That was not the purpose." To Haakogard's astonishment, she blushed.
"
How do you mean, not the purpose?" Tenre demanded impulsively. "For what other reason would the Comes Riton bring musicians as well as soldiers if not to—"
Thunghalis answered, very unhappy to provide the answer. "The Comes Riton has experienced a departure from himself, away from his nature and his understanding," he said heavily. "He is now like one made or failed in his thoughts. Never has a phase of the Comes Riton been so lax or . . . He came here to . . . seek that woman." He pointed to Zim. "He has declared he will claim her, and use her as men use free-breeding women."
"No! Never!" shouted Tenre, coming half out of his chair. "No."
"Exactly," said Haakogard, who had to suppress a sudden irrational impulse to laugh. "That was more or less the response he was given."
"It is shameful that the Comes Riton should sully himself in this way," said Thunghalis, who was not amused by any part of the situation. "He is a dupe of this alien woman. He has forgot everything that is right and moral and traditional to Neo Biscay and his rank. He is insane. It will surely ruin him."
Zim's eyes glittered. "I do not wish to accept the offer of the Comes Riton. I have informed him of my decision, and he has heard me out. I do not have to listen to you speak of me this way." She pulled her hand away from Tenre and moved a little closer to Haakogard. "Do I have to remain here?"
"I'd prefer you do, but I don't absolutely require it," said Haakogard quietly. "I know it isn't pleasant for you; I'm sorry about that. But I need your help, you can see why. This is the first real talking we've got out of these Other Colonists. If you remain, perhaps we can keep them going?"
He folded his hands and made himself more comfortable. "She has a point," he remarked to the company around the table. "If you want to express your outrage, Thunghalis, go ahead, but don't blame Zim. She did not seek out the Comes Riton, he came here, and she has told him she is not willing."
Thunghalis shook his head, his eyes still on Navigator Zim. "She has done something to him. No phase of the Comes Riton has ever behaved so senselessly as this phase has since he met her. The Comes Riton is a clone and cannot—must not—deviate from what he was before. But now he is no longer himself, so it must be that she has influenced him. There is no other reason he should conduct himself as he has, in a manner that borders on dishonor." He gathered his large hands into fists and ground his knuckles together. "It is that woman. She has power."
"You must not say these dreadful things of her," protested Tenre, glaring at Thunghalis, his arms in the posture for direct attack. He was ready to forget his own honor to battle the disgraced Pangbar, and only a warning cry from his own men stopped him. In compromise, he moved so that he was between Thunghalis and Zim, saying, "Speak one more word against her now and I will make you account for it in blood."
"You are in her thrall as well," said Thunghalis, awed.
"No. Those who are in thrall are thus against their desires, and I can want nothing more than the honor of her presence and the grace of her affection. It is a privilege to be in her presence, not an imposition. And you do her and yourself no honor by making such a statement." Tenre lowered his arms, no longer pugnacious. "Zim would captivate any man who saw her, and she would be his ultimate treasure, as dear as his honor. The only thing I have heard of the Comes Riton which I can endorse is his devotion to her."
He hesitated, looking first at Haakogard, then Thunghalis, then he spoke to Zim. "If I were the Comes Riton and not his alternate, I would not permit honest officers to kill themselves to regain honor. My honor would be in their loyalty and service. I would not ask my men to seek ruin in order to prove themselves. I would praise them for all they have done and ask that they continue to serve me in honor, as I serve you."
The two Other Colonists who had been captured with Tenre echoed Thunghalis' laughter, and one of them growled an oath that made the Pangbar sit more rigidly.
"I'll check the monitors," said Zim, glad of a reason to leave the room.
"Come back," said Haakogard to her. "Soon."
She looked away from him. "All right. All right. Soon."
3
"Anything?" Haakogard asked Perzda as she came from the bunker. Afternoon had faded into evening, the monitors posted around the perimeter of their zone had been doubled, and so far they had no trouble. The Other Colonists had withdrawn into the mountains, though their scouts appeared near the Katanas frequently. For the time being, things were quiet.
"More of the same," she said with an eloquent lift to her shoulders. "Until the Twelve are satisfied that the Grands are cleaned up, we'd better keep our heads down. We don't want to give them any excuses to drag us into their mess. Just remember what we're supposed to be doing here and leave the rest for later." She faltered, and continued awkwardly, "There's something I probably shouldn't tell you. It came in double code. Without the brain implants it can't be read."
"What did it say?" Haakogard asked, feeling the beginnings of real apprehension; information sent in codes only brain-implanted spies could read always worried him. "Why do you think I ought to know?"
"Well, it's completely secret, but I can talk about it, so there wasn't a brain block in the code." She looked down at her feet. "Apparently a company of Grands are being sent to the capital here."
"Here?" Haakogard felt his innards go cold. "Already? Neo Biscay?"
"Neo Biscay; Bilau," she said, in case there was any doubt.
"But . . . Why?" He stared at her as if she might show him the answer in a single, encompassing gesture. "We can't do what we're supposed to be doing here as it is," said Haakogard. "And now they're bringing the Grands in on the other side of the continent. I'd heard they might come here, but I didn't think they'd arrive yet. Why? What do they need the Grands for? We're confused enough as it is. If they put their men in . . . It doesn't make any sense, not at this time." He was rested now and he no longer felt as if he were moving about a step behind himself.
"It's pressure," said Perzda. "The Grands putting it on the Petits. They probably want a way to throw attention off what happened with their Marshal-in-Chief. What better way than to show up here a little early, before everything's settled? If we bungle the mission, the Grands can point at us while their Marshal slips off to Hathaway without fuss." She looked directly at Haakogard. "They're making us a target."
Little as he wanted to, he realized she was right. "There's got to be a way," he said, speaking as much to himself as to her. "There's got to be a way to change it around so that it doesn't blow up with us in the middle of it." He locked his hands together, then gave her a quick, quirky smile. "I'm open to suggestions."
"I wish I had some to give," he said. "If I think of anything . . ."
"No matter how zany," he said.
"Yeah. Just like the rest of the mission," said Perzda fatalistically. "Is there anything you want to do, Line Commander? Right now?"
He considered, then shook his head. "What can I do? I'm not supposed to know about the Grands. We were told to support the Comes Riton, but it's anyone's guess which of the clones is entitled to the position. If we could figure that out, maybe we'd have the answer to it all." He took a deep breath; somehow, he thought, there had to be a way. There had to be a solution that did not end in war and did not make his mission scapegoats for the Grands. He was damned if he would sacrifice his mission and poMoend to a Grand diversionary tactic. "Any other observations you want to make?"
"Not yet," she said. "It's too . . . confused."
"Meaning crazy," he suggested.
"That, too."
By midnight the soldiers and officers of the Comes Riton were back and camped around the four Katanas. Their signal fires blazed at the top of every hillock and outcropping while the army drilled long into the night, gongs and trumpets sounding at unfamiliar intervals, and drums rolling incessantly.
"How many?" Haakogard asked as he came into the control room. He had spent the last hour with the Mromrosi and was eager to catch up on any changes in the poMoend camp.
&nb
sp; "Two thousand four hundred seventy-six," said Communications Leader Alrou Malise. "According to the monitors."
"Close enough estimate," said Haakogard, his humor forced. He was at his seat but remained standing, restless. "The Mromrosi says that our position here is crucial. He doesn't elaborate." Another complicated fanfare blared.
"I don't know that I don't prefer the ballistas—they're quieter and less continuous. At least the First Colonists didn't have the bagpipe. How many hours of this do we have to put up with? Are they trying to wear us down?"
"What do you reckon? Are they going to attack?" asked Executive Officer Tallis, his youthful features bright with the promise of conflict.
"I don't know," said Haakogard as he watched the surveills. "We're ready to repel them, but the Comes Riton won't like it. We have no business standing against them, that's the trouble. We ought to be prepared to fight beside them, not . . . this." He turned away from his seat and paced the length of the conference room. He never liked waiting, and waiting for someone to fight was worst of all.
"We could take off, go make a dozen passes over Civuto poMoend, nice and low. We could drop something harmless so they'd figure out we could hurt them if we wanted to. They can't keep the Katanas grounded with their flyers, so why not?" suggested Section Leader Jarrick Riven. "That would give them something to think about. Make them aware of how exposed they are."
"We're not supposed to strike first, and we're not supposed to provoke attack, especially not from the Comes Riton. Taunting them won't work. We're here to defend him. He asked for our help, remember?" said Alrou Malise with an annoyed chuckle for emphasis. "Those are our allies out there."
"The Comes Riton," said Haakogard, and he could have knocked his head into the wall for having taken so long to think of it. "That's it. That's it! That's what— It's been there the whole time. The Comes Riton." He sat down. "How could I miss it?"
"That's what?" asked Mawson Tallis suspiciously.