The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING

by Zellmann, William

  Cale bowed slightly. "Thank you, sire, and we wish you all success. You face a great adventure, and a bright future."

  Cale and Dee sought out Ulrik, to say goodbye. Since moving to the colony, Ulrik could scarcely be recognized as the gawky young man they'd met at the castle. His hair was short, now, neatly coiffed, and he dressed in a shipsuit, which amply displayed his muscular figure. As a 'native' and a 'prince,' Ulrik was very popular among the colony's young women, and rumor had it that he was cutting quite a swath through them, now that he'd learned to bathe regularly. Surprisingly, he was also well accepted by the adult members of the colony.

  He frowned when told they were leaving. "But surely you will visit King's Town to say goodbye to King Karel and Donord?"

  Cale shook his head. "We couldn't land near the town without causing a big disturbance," he said. "Even the flitter still attracts crowds wherever we go. We'll have to depend upon you to relay our goodbyes."

  The frown deepened. "You will not return to Jumbo?"

  Cale smiled. "I'm afraid not, Ulrik. Our job here is done. Now it is up to you. Your great-uncle is a good king, but you will be the one who must live in both worlds. You must help Jumbo grow and learn from the star men, and also teach the star men to survive on Jumbo. Who knows? Someday, we may return and hear stories of the greatness of Good King Ulrik!"

  "Ha! That will be many years away." Ulrik's grin faded. "But you are right, and I am studying very hard. I read like a scribe, now, and figure like a merchant. But every time I visit the library, I despair. There is so much to learn!"

  Dee nodded. "No one can learn it all, Ulrik," she said. "The secret is to figure out what you need to know, and how to use the knowledge of others when necessary. As a king, you must learn to get people to willingly give you the benefits of their knowledge."

  The trip back to Santiago was bittersweet; in fact, Cale once found Dee in tears. "I didn't expect to become so involved with the Greeners," she explained. "And I certainly didn't expect to become emotionally attached to the people of a primitive world like Jumbo. Knowing that we'll never go back there actually hurts!"

  ********

  Cale's grin was wide as he and Dee entered the offices of Colonies, Inc. "That takes care of Jumbo, Zant," he said jauntily. "What's our next job?"

  Zant shook his head. His expression was somber. "A few nibbles. Nothing firm yet. But I'm not sure we are done with Jumbo. I think we have a problem."

  Cale's grin faded as they took seats. "What is it, Zant?"

  Zant shook his head. "I'd rather wait until Tor-Jen gets here. He's shuttling down, and should be here any time now."

  Tor-Jen arrived a few minutes' later. His expression was grave. He suspected he knew what was coming.

  "After you boosted out," Zant began, "I got curious about what the Greeners had loaded aboard that Din-class. The General pretty much took it over, and he was pretty quiet about what he was taking aboard. So I downloaded the cargo manifest from Santiago Customs." He punched keys on his tablet. "This is what he was buying to take to a farming world!"

  The list appeared on the others' tablets. Cale frowned. "Well, I expected the general to stock up on weapons, since he's responsible for colony security. I can understand the four armed flitters, for instance. They'll be useful for breaking up nomad attacks. But why would they need a company-level disruptor? Or two heavy artillery lasers? Those are crew-served weapons. And look at this other stuff! He's got enough weapons, equipment and power cells to outfit a company!"

  Zant nodded. "A company of 300, to be exact. Remember Belen mentioning that their new recruits were veterans discharged because of the reduction in Santiago's military force? Well, that was true, as far as it went. What he didn't mention, probably because he didn't know it, was that all three hundred were from the same unit. Ochoa-Mariden's unit.

  "I checked into our General," Zant continued. "Ochoa-Mariden commanded a special, fast reaction company on Ilocan. They were shipped by suborbital to any place the Ilocanos seemed to be getting the upper hand. They had a reputation not only for toughness, but for savagery. Rumor had it that the unit was made up of people who liked killing. Torture was just a normal interrogation technique for them. I found a report that said that Admiral Gonzales-Villareal personally called the General on the carpet and threatened to file war crimes charges himself, unless he controlled his people."

  Tor-Jen frowned. "Well, why didn't they file charges? Why didn't the Ilocanos?"

  Zant shrugged. "I wondered about that too. So I checked. The Ilocan Reconciliation Commission filed war crimes charges against Ochoa-Mariden and all his officers just about a week after you left. I thought about chartering a ship and following you, but I couldn't figure out what I could accomplish once I got to Jumbo. So I waited for you to come back. If we decide to do anything, it will require planning and preparation, and this is the place to do that, not Jumbo."

  Dee jumped to her feet. "If! If we decide to do anything? Of course we're going to do something! That . . . that man is planning to take over a whole planet! We can't let him get away with it!"

  "We won't." Tor-Jen's voice carried a flat finality. "Even if I thought a military dictatorship was a good idea, and I don't, Spec ops types shouldn't be the ones running it."

  Cale nodded. "Dee's right. We have to do something about this."

  Zant's smile finally resurfaced. "I agree. We have all the company stockholders present. I move that we shut down operations here, liquidate any company properties, and agree to devote any company resources necessary to return to Jumbo and help defeat the General and his thugs."

  "Second!" Dee snapped. Her body was stiff with barely-controlled anger as she lowered herself back into her chair.

  Zant nodded. "All in favor?" There was a chorus of "Aye"s. Another "Aye" echoed in Cale and Dee's heads. Even their "secret" partner agreed.

  "Okay," Cale said. "That's all well and good. But exactly what are we talking about doing?"

  "I've been thinking about that," Zant replied. "My first thought was to recruit a bunch of bully boys of our own. But whatever else they are, Ochoa-Mariden's people are good. Probably better than any mercenaries we could afford. Besides, we don't want to add in another set of world-conquerors." He paused. "Tell me about these kings. Will they really resist the General, or will they cave after a few laser blasts?"

  Cale frowned. "I don't know. I think the major kings, Karel and Rajo, will fight, though I don't know how effective they'll be against modern weapons. As for the others?" he shrugged. "A quick raid by an armed flitter full of killers, and the General will own a minor kingdom."

  "So, we'll have a little time, but not a whole lot," Tor-Jen said. "The General won't be in a real hurry. He'll probably take his time, since he won't expect to be interrupted. He'll have to take over the colony first, and they're not unarmed peasants. But once that's done, and he's expanded their security, he'll be ready to start taking on the kingdoms."

  "And he'll start with Nirvana!" Dee cried in a stricken tone. "He'll go after King Karel!"

  Zant stood. "The wild card is the nomads. If they start attacking the colony, the General will postpone his plans. He's a hardass, but I get the feeling he's got a hardass sense of duty."

  "I agree," Tor-Jen put in. "I think I remember someone saying something about him and his people taking an oath of allegiance to the colony. If they did, I think that will be their highest priority."

  Cale nodded. "But as you say, that's a wild card. The nomads are bound to start attacking as soon as they learn about the colony. But that could take a while. They think the Cursed Lands are cursed, remember? It might take them awhile to decide the curse is lifted, and start mounting attacks."

  The discussions went on for hours. But actually, of course, their choices were limited. Tor-Jen wanted to load Colonizer with war-surplus weapons and munitions to give to the kings. But Cale pointed out that while the Jumbos would be unfamiliar with the modern weapons, the General's troops were very skilled
with them. And besides, there would be the issue of recharging the power cells.

  "That's true," Zant said thoughtfully. "But I'll bet we could get weapons that the Jumbos do understand made here, and take them to Jumbo. A few thousand arrowheads, maybe, and maybe a bunch of swords and knives."

  "Pah!" Said Tor-Jen. "Waste of time. They've probably already got the kinds of weapons they can make, and there's no way they'll be able to stand up to Ochoa-Mariden,"

  Finally Dee threw up her hands in disgust. "Stop it!" in the sudden surprised silence, she continued, "You people are arguing in circles now. No one has had a new idea in over an hour. Besides, you're all guessing. None of you knows anything about Jumbo's weapons. Zant, you, and the Captain, here, have a laymen's knowledge of current military weapons. But for this, you need to talk to a real expert; someone who's studied weapons and war for years."

  Zant's eyebrows rose. 'You want us to find another general?"

  Dee waved a hand in exasperation. "No! We may need someone with tactical skills later, but for now, we need an expert on primitive weapons."

  The men exchanged glances. "Is there such a thing as an expert on primitive weapons?" Cale asked doubtfully.

  "Santiago is a civilized planet," Dee replied smugly. "Civilized planets have experts on everything!"

  Santiago University's Department of Military Science did, indeed, have an expert on primitive weapons. In fact, there were a number of them planetwide. However, Distinguished Professor of Military Science Antonio Pedraca, PhD, was widely acknowledged the planet's foremost expert.

  Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Zant and Cale had no trouble arranging an appointment with Dr. Padraca. Apparently, his was not a busy schedule. They were ushered into a cluttered office piled with examples and holos of primitive weapons and weapons parts.

  Dr. Padraca was a small, thin man, with quick, birdlike movements and a hurried manner. He greeted them politely, and cleared chairs for them before returning around the huge desk to his own chair, nearly disappearing in a maze of metal, wood, and paper.

  Cale and Zant explained their mission. They told of the colony on Jumbo, and the threat to it represented by the General and his troops.

  Dr Padraca listened, mesmerized, as they explained their mission: to obtain designs for weapons that would permit primitive peasant levies to effectively oppose modern special operations troops. He jumped up and started pacing as Cale explained that they hoped to have a shipload of weapons that could be maintained and used by a blacksmithing culture.

  When he'd finished, Dr. Padraca paused in his pacing. "Do you know the worst thing about being a primitive weapons expert on a civilized world, gentlemen? It's the fact that the knowledge one has accumulated over decades of study is used by only a few scientists and novelists. Oh," he continued dismissively, "Primitive Weapons is a course at the university, and is required by the Army for advanced training, but that is the only reason I have a job. I have only twice managed sabbaticals to primitive worlds, and they were the happiest periods of my life.

  "Now, you gentlemen come to me with the most challenging project I have encountered. Not only do you wish to know about primitive weapons, you wish me to design improved versions that could be effective against modern weapons and equipment, and still be maintained or reproduced by a preindustrial culture."

  He came around the desk to stand before them. "I will accept your challenge, gentlemen, on one condition. When you return to this 'Jumbo' I must accompany you. My knowledge and skills will be vital if your fight is to be successful,"

  "Uh, Professor," Zant began uncomfortably, "Primitive planets can be pretty, well, primitive. And working with us could be dangerous. If we don't win . . ." He shrugged.

  Dr. Padraca smiled. "This won't be my first visit to a preindustrial culture," he replied. "Besides, I have been eligible for retirement from the University for several years; but what good is a retired primitive weapons expert?

  "Had I known of your colonization project, I'd have joined it in a microsecond. My life mate died three years ago, and we had no progeny. So, that's my price, gentlemen. I will undertake your project if you will permit me to use my University retirement to buy into your colony."

  Zant was regaining his equilibrium. "I'm afraid, Professor, that we cannot speak for the colony. And, to be honest, since the colony is now on Jumbo, I'm afraid they would have little use for Santiagan pesos, no matter how large the quantity."

  Dr. Padraca nodded soberly, but his face lost none of its excitement. "Your honesty does you credit, sire Jenfu. However, I am confident we will be able to work something out.

  "Now," he continued in a brisk tone, "I will need all the information you can gather on the native weapons and their manufacturing capabilities. I will also need as much cultural information as you can gather. I understood, sire Rankin, that you are the one who actually scouted the planet?"

  Cale nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll provide you with a copy of my complete report. But you must understand that we did not focus on the weaponry or militaries of the various groups. And we do have a few samples."

  Dr. Padraca's eyes lit. "Samples? You have samples? Of course, you do," he answered himself. "Who would not gather samples on a scouting expedition? Do you have many weapons samples, sire Rankin?"

  Cale smiled. "Not many, Professor. We have a spear head from the savage nomad culture, and quite a few knives of various types. And then, I have a weapon called a 'crossbow', which is a short bow mounted on a shoulder stock. Oh, and I have one firearm, though I have none of the gunpowder it requires."

  Dr Padraca nodded. "Excellent. I'll need to examine all of them, of course. I must have a thorough understanding of their manufacturing capabilities. I'll study your report carefully, naturally," he continued, "but for now, can you give me a quick summary of your understanding of their military arrangements?"

  Cale frowned and nodded. "I guess so, Professor. You understand I have no real knowledge of the nomad culture; only that of the victim of one of their attacks.

  "First, both they and the settler culture use riding animals called 'Dinos.' These closely resemble something called a 'dinosaur'. They walk on two legs, and have two front legs that are much smaller, and are apparently only useful for manipulating food. The rear legs, though, are huge and very muscular, with large clawed feet. Their posture is unusual. They lean far forward, almost horizontal, and they have a very large, heavy tail to balance them. They stand about eight feet high at the front shoulder, though those used by the settlers are a bit larger and heavier than those used by the nomads. They were genetically engineered by the terraformers as fast riding animals, and apparently the last 500 years has only made them faster. You'll see the footage of the nomad attack on our lifeboat, but the only weapons I remember seeing were these spears and some kind of rope thing they whirled around their heads. They looked like they had weights on them and were for throwing. Aside from those, the only other weapons I saw were belt knives. When they wanted to pound on our hull, they had to gather stones to do it. The General asked, so I'll mention that I saw no sign of tactics; just a headlong attack.

  "As far as the settlers are concerned, I'm told that their organization is 'feudal', with six rather small kingdoms, each with its own king. They can't afford standing armies, so each king keeps a core of 'guardsmen' who seem to be a combination of police and military. Mostly, they just keep order and catch criminals. During the occasional nomad attack, the king usually doesn't have time to try to call up a peasant levy, so the Guardsmen are the ones who respond. They seem to be armed with mostly swords and back-and-breastplate armor. If they can catch the nomads in a confined area like a village, they can usually defeat them easily. But if they're lured into the open, the nomads' smaller, faster dinos can often let them kill the Guardsmen." He waved a hand as Dr. Padraca started to reply. "I said 'kill' and not 'defeat' on purpose, Professor. The nomads do not leave survivors. Ever.

  "In the case of a war between the kings, the situation is differ
ent. The kings call up levies from the farmers, townsmen, and peasants. They give most of them absurdly long, heavy spears. I never saw them used, but they look too long and heavy to handle, and I can't imagine how they use them.

  "The backbone of a king's army, I'm told, are his archers and his cavalry. The cavalry are made up of the kingdom's nobility. They seem to mostly use short bows and arrows, spears, and swords. Every king tries to protect his archers, if possible. I understand they're very effective, but they take years to train. A few of the levies, usually veterans, are given those 'crossbow' things. But the rest, the ones who aren't given those huge spears, carry what they have, which is usually axes, pitchforks, and other farming tools."

  Dr. Padraca nodded and smiled. "I think I can fill in the rest. See if I'm right. Battle is very stylized. The archers fire, the cavalry charge, and the armies just march toward each other until they clash. Right?"

  Cale grinned. "Why did you ask if you already knew?"

  Dr. Padraca shrugged. "I've studied a number of feudal societies. Those big, unwieldy spears are called 'pikes', and they're used by infantry to pull mounted cavalry off their mounts, so they can be killed with the peasants' weapons you mentioned. From your description, I would say those rope things you saw the nomads whirling around their heads are called 'bolas', and they're used to entangle enemies or prey." He frowned. "I must think about this, gentlemen. I would like you to send me your report and any footage you have, military or not. I must know as much as possible before I can even begin planning." He smiled. "You are very observant, young man, for someone with no interest in weapons and the military."

  Cale's smile remained, but he shrugged. "We befriended a former Guardsman, and the evenings were long."

  Dr. Padraca bobbed a quick nod. "I'm sure. Well, my friends, if you can route all your reports and footage to me today, I may be able to tell you something in a day or two."

  Zant and Cale stood. Both were grinning. It appeared that Professor Padraca would be a vital and enthusiastic help in their efforts. "We'll get you the information immediately, Professor," Zant said.