King David's Spaceship (codominion)

by Jerry Pournelle

  What’s wrong with the man? Volker wondered. He looks like he’s about to be executed. That’s not a happy thought, given where I am … “No, of course I don’t know. We have always assumed Imperial intentions to be a Haven state secret.”

  “I think there’s no choice but to tell him, Sire.” Dougal said.

  “We agreed on that some time ago,” King David said. “There’s no real choice in the matter.” “No. I suppose not,"Dougal said. “Very well…”

  Volker listened with growing amazement. There was a lot to think about here. Did he believe the part about the Empire’s intentions for Prince Samual’s World? But why shouldn’t I? he wondered. It’s almost reasonable. They have been damned secretive about the way their government works, and they’ve studied our science but given our people very little in return …

  “I gee,” he said when Dougal finished. “But what has this to do with me?”

  “Everything,” Dougal said. “I won’t say how, but we expect to have a lot of their science and technology soon. Books and books of it. Much of it so far advanced over what we have that most of us can’t even comprehend it. Yet we must comprehend it. If anyone can understand, it will be your people at the University — but we have to keep everything secret. We even have to conceal the fact that we have a secret to keep.”

  “How shall we do that?” Volker asked.

  “Some of your scholars can be trusted,” Dougal said. “You’ll help us choose them. But we’ll need others even though they can’t keep secrets. Those will have to transfer to one of His Majesty’s research stations. To our naval facilities, or elsewhere. They’ll have to go willingly — or seem so, at any rate. Some of your best students will be cloistered, kept away from the others, so they can study this new science. And—”

  “My God, man, that’s the end of the University!” Volker protested.

  “Do you see another way?” Sir Giles asked. “If our world is colonized, what do you think will become of the University?”

  A good question, Volker thought. I wonder if the Imperials would bargain? Would it be worth something to them to learn of this plot? But that, he decided, was not likely. What use independence for a University on an enslaved planet? With Imperial agents watching his faculty, suppressing discoveries—

  And there was the new knowledge itself, new discoveries that Haven was somehow to steal from the Empire. That alone was a deciding factor. But first—

  “There remains the matter of confirmation of the University’s ancient privileges,” Volker said.

  “You’ll get that. Most of it.” Dougal snapped.

  “All,” Volker insisted.

  “If we succeed,” King David said. “If we succeed, I will reconfirm your privileges.”

  “And if we fail?” Volker asked.

  “Then we all fail,” Dougal said. “You can deal with the Imperials, for all the good it will do you. But we won’t fail.”

  “I wish I were certain,” Volker said. “I have seen the Imperial landing boats. We’ve never built anything like them.” And that struck a nerve, he thought. In Sir Giles at least.

  “Nothing is certain,” King David said. “Yet we must try. Will you help us?”

  This might go well, Volker thought. The University might come out of this very well indeed. King’s promise or not, once Haven governs the entire world, the University will never keep all its ancient privileges, but we’ll have a good bargaining position when that’s accomplished. And we’ll have all their new science … “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PROMOTIONS

  There was a large map of Prince Samual’s World on Malcolm Dougal’s office wall. It had to be changed at frequent intervals.

  Too frequent, Dougal thought. The unification war — if you could call desultory mop-up actions a war — was going all too well. There was very little fighting now. There hadn’t been a lot since the fall of Orleans, although for the first year it had been necessary to march Haven’s armies to the border of a state before it was willing to commit political suicide. Now, though, many of Haven’s victims were ready to negotiate without a visible show of force at all.

  It was hardly surprising. For over a century Orleans had been the rock against which Haven’s expansionist ambitions had foundered; with that republic out of the way it was to be expected that a number of other states would surrender. Even so, the speed at which Haven’s Sunburst and Cross spread across the planet was astonishing.

  Not that Dougal could blame the others for capitulating. A major point of the treaties of unification put each absorbed state’s military forces at’ Haven’s disposal. Most had to be disbanded, but there were professionals in every army, and they could be recruited. And there was always the military equipment, the artillery and warships … It was an effective way to build power.

  The treaties were drafted by the Imperial High Commissioner’s staff. Of course they were only being helpful — but their help was impossible to refuse. Malcolm’s plan to buy time by delaying the final unification of Prince Samual’s World simply wasn’t going to work.

  Haven’s forces were now so large that no one could resist. If that weren’t enough, the Imperial Marines stood ready to break any major center of opposition. Lechfeld had its effect; in the years since then, the Imperials had seldom fired their space weapons. The example of Lechfeld was more than sufficient.

  Pacification of the barbaric South Continent would probably take a generation more, but within two or three years Prince Samual’s World would be effectively unified under King David.

  And thus under the Empire. Dougal looked again at the map and cursed. It was all happening too fast.

  There were advantages, he thought. There was plenty of money now. The secret research center in the Corliss Grant Hills, and the others, the shipyards and Magnate Vermuele’s foundries, got plenty of support. There was also money for the University, and that institution was invaluable.

  Dougal nodded in satisfaction. In the months since they’d recruited him Angus Volker had kept his bargain. Haven’s research centers were well staffed. They didn’t dare launch big rockets, but they’d fired several models. Static tests of larger motors continued satisfactorily. The shipyard facilities had developed air-tight compartments and now worked to make them lighter. They could almost build a ship which would keep men alive in space.

  Almost.

  Almost meant anything from three to thirty years, depending on who you talked to. Three might just be enough — but Malcolm had had too much experience with eager engineers to believe that estimate. And more than five years would certainly be too late. He would not have that long. When the Imperials first arrived, they seemed in no hurry; lately, though, they were anxious to finish unifying the planet. At the same time, there were fewer Imperial civil servants at Government House. Sir Alexei Ackoff was as affable as ever, but he seemed distracted, as if Prince Samual’s World had lessened in importance — but he was also in a greater hurry than ever.

  We need either time or help, Dougal thought. And we can’t get time, so it’s got to be help, and that’s MacKinnie.

  It had been a year since they heard that MacKinnie and all his people had set out to cross Makassar in a small ship. They’d gone against the Navy’s advice and despite plentiful warnings. The Imperial High Commissioner had been emphatic about that. It wasn’t the Empire’s fault that the expedition had been lost …

  Malcolm didn’t believe the expedition was lost, but it was difficult to wait.

  Difficult or not, there was nothing else to do. Weeks passed.

  * * *

  The large, square, metal box in Malcolm Dougal’s office squawked unintelligibly. Irritated, Dougal got up to adjust the small dial set on its front. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but they’d shown him how to operate the thing, and as he turned the dial slightly the words became clearer.

  “Calling Citizen Dougal, calling Citizen Dougal. Answer please.”

&nb
sp; He leaned close to the wire grill on the front of the thing and shouted, “Dougal here.”

  Nothing happened. He cursed and pushed the button on top. “Dougal here.”

  “Navy reports Makassar expedition returning. Will land in twenty days,” the box said.

  This time Malcolm remembered to push the button. “Thank you. Send details by messenger. Anything more?”

  “That’s all, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He returned to his desk. Probably the communications man knew more details, but Malcolm didn’t want them discussed on the wireless. The Imperials might not be listening, but certainly they could if they wanted to. Dougal laughed mockingly at himself. The only way anyone could learn that the expedition was returning would be from the Imperials; they’d know anything Malcolm could learn from a messenger. It was wise to be cautious, but it could be carried too far.

  Not that it mattered. He’d learn nothing really important until MacKinnie’s people were down and safely hidden.

  Details. MacKinnie’s crew would be a sensation. Everyone would want to see them. Parliament, the newspapers, the University; hundreds of opportunities for one of them to let something slip, the merest hint that would warn the Imperials and end their chances.

  Something would have to be done about that. But first there were other preparations. He took a speaking tube from the wall behind his desk and whistled into it.

  “Sir.”

  “Send Captain Gregory to me.”

  “Sir.”

  Dougal waited impatiently for the knock on the door. It was only a few minutes, but it seemed hours, and Dougal cursed himself for his impatience.

  Hans Gregory was a middle-aged officer, nondescript and harmless in appearance; a man much like Malcolm Dougal. He stood in front of Malcolm’s desk. “Yes, sir?”

  “You look well,” Dougal said. “I had meant to see you anyway, but now it may be more urgent. Please be seated.”

  “Thank you, sir—”

  “I take it that all is well and there if no difficulty in your friendship with Citizen Liddell?”

  “None, sir. I see him at least weekly now that I had him elected to my club. He very much appreciated my sponsorship.”

  “Excellent. It is now time for him to repay the favor.

  Things have reached a critical stage, and we will need a great deal more information about the Imperials. How well do you know Elaine Liddell?”

  “Fairly well, sir. She’s friendly enough. I used to see her when I called on Liddell — we play Go fairly often. Unfortunately, as I’ve reported, lately she’s out as often as not.”

  “So you don’t know if she would work with us?”

  “No, sir.” Gregory shrugged. “She certainly fancies herself in love with that young Imperial. If it came to a choice of loyalties, I wouldn’t bet either way.”

  “Even if the king himself asked for her help?”

  “I just don’t know, sir. They’re pretty thick, those two.” He gave Dougal a knowing look. “You’ve seen the reports.”

  Dougal nodded. “If she’s not in love with Lieutenant Jefferson, she ought to be. I do not understand how her father tolerates the situation.”

  “He has very little choice, sir.” Captain Gregory said. “He could hardly challenge an Imperial officer. And of course Freelady Elaine does speak — privately — of Lieutenant Jefferson as her ‘fiancee.’ ”

  “But not publicly. Does Jefferson acknowledge the relationship?”

  “That’s more complicated than you would suppose,” Gregory said. “He has made no objection to being called that by Elaine in the presence of Citizen Liddell. However, he cannot officially become engaged to a local without permission of his commanding officer — or says he cannot.”

  “Sounds as if Jefferson has found a good thing,” Dougal said. “Privileges without obligations.”

  Gregory nodded agreement.

  “I can’t think the girl would much care for the situation.”

  “No, sir. I know her father doesn’t, “Gregory said.

  “You’re certain of that.”

  Gregory smiled. “Oh, yes. Laurence Liddell and I are very good friends — in fact, I am the only one of his friends who knows the situation.”

  “But why does he tolerate it?”

  “He has little choice, sir. When Elaine began seeing Jefferson privately, Liddell was horrified, of course, but when he tried to do something about it, she threatened to get a job working for the Imperials and move into an apartment on their compound. He’d have had no control over her at all if she did that—”

  “Is that still possible?” Dougal asked.

  “I suppose so.”

  “We might get a lot of information — no, of course that can’t work. Liddell would have to disown her. We’d never see her.” Dougal looked thoughtful. “But we do need her cooperation. Have you suggestions for how to approach her?”

  Captain Gregory held his fingertips together under his chin and looked up thoughtfully. “Have you considered how she must feel?” he asked. “She has thoroughly compromised herself, but she has no commitment whatever from Jefferson. If under those circumstances she found he was unfaithful to her—”

  “Umm. And Jefferson has certainly been known to be interested in tavern girls. A good suggestion, Captain. Keep it in mind. Better — perhaps before we speak to her directly, we should have, uh, evidence—”

  “I can arrange that,”

  “Excellent. And Jefferson himself might be vulnerable,” Dougal mused.

  “I can’t think his superiors don’t know of his adventures. One more wouldn’t make a difference.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of his rather libertine ways with tavern girls,” Dougal said. “Tell me, Captain, have you any reason to believe that Freelady Elaine is sterile?”

  “No, sir-”

  “Yet if she has obtained a birth control device, she has been exceedingly discreet. Might Jefferson have given her what the Imperials use? Something called ‘The Pill’ is mentioned prominently in the novel we found. If he has given her Imperial technology, he may be in violation of one of their regulations.”

  “Isn’t that a lot to deduce on little evidence?” Gregory asked.

  “Some of it isn’t deduction, Captain,” Dougal said. “I have a number of agents watching those two. One is the concierge at the apartment Jefferson keeps in the suburbs.”

  “Even if you’re correct, he would probably report any approach from us to his superiors,” Gregory said. “From what I’ve seen of him he is rather admirably loyal to the Empire.”

  “Yes. Unfortunately. I suppose you’re right, it was only a thought. Now, to return to the matter of Citizen Liddell. Will he cooperate?”

  “Yes. He’s very loyal. Favors the unification wars and all that. And this business with Jefferson hasn’t made him love the Empire.”

  Dougal looked thoughtfully at the dossier on his desk. “Roads and public works,” he mused. “Good recommendations from his superiors. Fairly senior civil servant — tell me, do you think he’s competent to be one of the roads commissioners?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. He’ll have that.” Dougal made a note on the memo pad in front of him. “Sir Giles Og’s political managers aren’t going to be too happy about losing that appointment, but that can’t be helped. Time to show Liddell he has friends who appreciate his talents — make sure he knows it was your influence that got him promoted. What else does he want?”

  “A knighthood on retirement, but he has no reason to expect it—”

  “Offer him that, too. If his daughter will cooperate with us. If not—” Dougal shrugged. “If not, a Haven knighthood won’t be worth a lot anyway, but we can’t tell him that. Captain, Elaine Liddell is potentially one of our best sources of information about Imperial policies, and I need that information badly. Especially now.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. That’s all.”

  “Sir.
” Gregory stood.

  “Your very best, Commandant,” Dougal said.

  Gregory was halfway to the door. He stopped and turned in surprise. “Commandant?”

  “Yes. I’ve just promoted you. See that you deserve it.” Dougal made another note on his memo pad.

  This is dangerous, Dougal thought. The expedition is returning and we will need information on Imperial activities. Elaine Liddell is potentially invaluable, our only real source, but she could also arouse Imperial suspicions.

  But, he thought, there is nothing else to do. It is worth the risk, but that risk will have to be minimized. He took a report from his desk and scanned through it. Freelady Liddell and Lieutenant Jefferson liked sailing. They often went out alone in small craft, but only in the daytime. They did have some sense of discretion …

  He continued to scan the report. Citizen Liddell owned a pair of Mannheim pacers, and Jefferson took Elaine riding at least weekly. Mannheims, he thought. Very spirited horses. Took controlling. You could break your neck falling off a horse. The Imperial High Commissioner would be saddened by the loss, but what suspicion could be attached to a riding accident? He nodded to himself. Best see Inspector Solon. Just in case the interview with the girl went badly.

  And there were endless other details to be attended to before the expedition returned. Dougal’s fingers drummed on the polished wooden desk, and a thin smile came to his lips. The waiting was over. Now they could get to work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DECISION FACTORS

  The small boat skipped across the water, running directly downwind and going like a corkborer chased by an eagle. She had a nasty tendency to roll, and it took all of Jefferson’s skill to keep her heading straight. He stood in the cockpit, his legs spread wide, the tiller behind him, feeling the following seas as they lifted the stern, throwing his weight against the tiller to correct any deviation from center, careful not to overcorrect and let her fall off the other way. It would be easy to broach, and in these seas the boat might swamp.