Rise of the Terran Empire

by Poul Anderson

For a few breaths he sat quiet. The murmurs of the ship came to Sandra like a single thrum from a plucked string that was stretched close to breaking.

  Van Rijn said: "Bayard Story of Galactic Developments, leader of the delegates of the Seven In Space to our council in Lunograd, is Benoni Strang, High Commissioner of Babur on Hermes. There is the fact what makes all the rest tumble into place."

  "I suppose not, in spite of the pictures and other evidence Mother brought, I suppose not that could possibly be wrong," Eric ventured with a caution she recognized as new to him.

  Van Rijn shook his head. "No. Resemblance is too close. Besides, the identity does explain so much else."

  "Especially the help Babur's gotten," Falkayn put in. His tone was that of a judge handing down a sentence. "Armament, military and political intelligence, recruitment of mercenaries, direction of the entire campaign thus far—by the Seven."

  "Not as a whole, surely," Eric protested, as if the shock had just now reached him.

  "Oh, no," van Rijn said. "That secret could never have kept, it would have spoiled and stunk up the galaxy, did any except a few top managers know—and, of course, the human technicians they engaged and held strictly isolated. Surely, too, not many Baburites is been told."

  He laid a fist on the table, big, hairy, knobbly, with power in it to smash. "Makes no difference," he stated. "Policy, orders come from the top down. The Baburites treat the League with contempt because their supreme chiefs know the League is broken from within."

  "But what an enormous effort," Eric wondered. "Research, development, construction, decade after decade till a whole giant planet was ready to launch its hordes—how could that ever stay unknown? Why, the cost would show up on the accountants' tapes—"

  "You underestimate the size of operations on an interstellar scale," Falkayn told him. "No underling, even a highly placed underling, can keep track of everything a big company does. Spread over several companies, the expense could easily be disguised as statistical fluctuations. It was never overwhelmingly great. Babur undoubtedly supplied most labor. Raw materials came from there as well, and from uninhabited planets and asteroids. Once the basic machine tools were built, comparatively little of the Seven's original capital was tied up. Various persons must have been getting paid fortunes, to get them to live a goodly chunk of their lives cut off from their own civilization. But a fortune to an individual is small change to a major corporation."

  He added slowly: "We had an important clue to the whole thing quite some time ago. The Baburite warships seem to have electronic systems certain of whose parts can't be manufactured there, others of which deteriorate in a hydrogen atmosphere. They aren't obliged to; they could do better. We put it down to sloppy engineering, the result of haste, and quite likely the lords of Babur still believe that's the case, if anybody on that planet with scientific training has been given time to stop and think about the matter. But actually . . . the Seven would want to have a hold on their allies, something to keep them subordinate till the objectives of the Seven have been achieved. Why not leave them in chronic need of vital replacement parts which are supplied from outside?"

  "The revelation of Mirkheim precipitated action," Sandra said. "'Twas simply too mighty a prize to let slip. But what is the real goal, of Babur and the Seven alike? Why go to war at all? That's what I still can't grasp."

  "I am not sure anybody will ever grasp why mortals make war," van Rijn answered somberly. "Maybe someday we will find a sophont species what is not fallen from grace, and they can tell us."

  Falkayn addressed the woman: "Well, we can use logic. Successful imperialism does in fact pay off for its leaders, in wealth, power, the sense of glory . . . yes, and often the sense of duty carried out, destiny fulfilled."

  "Better we stay with honest greed," van Rijn remarked.

  "In the case of the Baburites," Falkayn continued, "we can't be certain till a lot of intensive xenological research has been done—unless we can get hold of Strang's files on them. But we do know they resented being shoved aside in the scramble for a place on the frontier. Influential ones among them may well have decided that nothing but force majeure would win their species its due. And don't forget, Babur was united rather recently, by the conquering Imperial Band. I suspect the wish to go on conquering acquired a momentum, as it's done in most human cases. Also, again like human history, I suspect the rulers saw foreign adventures as a way of giving their empire a common purpose, of securing their grip on the lately acquired lands.

  "Be that as it may, Babur was ripe to be coaxed and helped into overrunning its stellar neighborhood. I wouldn't be surprised but what Benoni Strang was the man to whom the idea first occurred, and who persuaded the masters of the Seven to undertake it. He seems to've started his career as a scientist on the planet."

  Sandra nodded. Before her rose a vision of her enemy, the fire beneath his armor of courtliness, the often faraway look in his eyes, and words he had now and then let slip.

  "And the motives of the Seven?" she asked, though she and Falkayn had talked this over for hours while they fared Solward.

  "I already tried to list a few reasons why humans run amok," he reminded her.

  "There is this too," van Rijn added. "The Home Companies is become near as damn the government of the Commonwealth. At least, the government does nothings they don't want, and everythings they do want. I, an independent, see the threat in that; but I am not hungry for power myself, I simply want people should let me be to play my little games.

  "The owners of the Seven feel different. Else they would not be organized as they are. They must dread the day when the Home Companies do actively move out into space. Against that, what better than to be operating a strong government of their own? Except nothing exists ready-made out there. So they have to build an empire. Then they can afford to let the whole conspiracy be known."

  "In alliance with Babur . . . yes, it makes a creepy kind of sense," Eric said. "The two races would not likely fall out with each other; they don't want the same real estate, save the kind that Mirkheim represents, and they could agree to divvy that up. Meanwhile Hermes, under totalitarian rule, would be the human power base in those parts."

  He slammed the table. "No!" he shouted.

  "That is agreed," van Rijn said. "What we is here today for is to grind out what we can best do. Is everybody clear on what the situation computes to? Hokay, we roll up our sleeves and get down to the nutty-gutty."

  Sandra sipped her claret as if its taste of vanished sunshine could give strength. "You do not want to inform the Commonwealth," she foreknew.

  "Positive not," van Rijn replied. "They see the weakness, they strike, they win—and who gets Mirkheim? The Home Companies."

  "They'd move to utterly crush the Seven," Falkayn supplied. "I don't believe the empire in space that they'd win would be less vicious . . . or more likely to set Hermes free. Oh, they'd make Babur withdraw. But the temptation to impose a 'caretaker' government which'd build a corporate state in the Commonwealth's image and be properly subservient in its foreign relations—they could scarcely resist that."

  Van Rijn turned toward Eric. "That is why I got you to stall the co-option of this force into Sol's," he explained. "I only had a hunch then it was best you keep your freedom of action. Now we know it is."

  This too had been in Sandra's mind for endless days. Yet voicing it still felt like stepping onto a bridge which her tread must cause to break behind her. "You propose we leave, to carry out our private campaign."

  "Ja. Not direct attacks on Babur. We hit holdings of the Seven. They got little defense for those. We can give them choice, either they pull away support from their allies so both must make peace with us, or else we ruin them."

  "Let's not be overhasty," Falkayn urged. "For instance, it'd be worthwhile, it'd save lives in the long run, to alert as many independent League members as possible, and get them to join their fighting craft to ours."

  "Then they'll want a part in writing the
peace," Eric objected.

  "Yes," Falkayn said. "Don't you think it's best if they do? That way we might salvage a little stability, a little decency."

  In the meantime, Sandra thought, the agony of Hermes goes on. But I myself dare not speak against it. I've not the wisdom to know a better way.

  Does anybody?

  Again they stood in Delfinburg, David and Coya, and from a balcony of van Rijn's house looked across a nighted sea. In the room behind them, their children slept. Before them was a shadowy drop down to the yacht harbor where boats lay phantomlike at piers. Beyond, under a high wind, waves rushed to break in whiteness, rise, and march onward. Above arched a moonless sky where the stars fled among ragged clouds.

  "The third time you're going," she said. "Must you really?"

  He nodded. "I couldn't leave Adzel and Chee fighting alone on my planet, could I?"

  "But you can leave us—" She caught herself. "No. I'm sorry. Forget that ever crossed my mind."

  "This time will be the last," he vowed, and drew her toward him. Neither of them spoke: The last indeed, if one never comes home.

  Instead, she told him, "Right. Because afterward, when and wherever you travel, you're taking me along. Me and the kids."

  "If I go anyplace, sweetheart. After all the hooraw, I should be quite content to settle down on Earth and let the tropics toast my bones."

  She shook her head so the dark hair swirled. "You won't. Nor will I. If nothing else, it's no world for Juanita and Nicky. You don't imagine the war will cleanse it, do you? No, the rot can only grow worse. We're getting the hell out while we still can."

  "Hermes—" He was mute for a while. "Maybe. We'll see. It's a big universe."

  The wind whistled cold. Chill also, and bitter, was spindrift cast off the booming waters.

  XX

  Abdallah Enterprises, of the Seven In Space, guarded its centrum on Hopewell against possible banditry from without and sabotage from within. But the former seemed so unlikely that a single corvette orbited the planet, whose successive crews had never encountered a worse problem than filling the time until they were relieved.

  The destroyer North Atlantis sped inward to engage. Despite the risk, Eric found he must beam a warning: "Get out of our way before we attack you." Astounded profanity replied, then a brace of missiles and an energy beam.

  The Hermetian vessel glided sidewise on thrust. The torpedoes maneuvered still more agilely, but now she had a good sight on them. A lightning storm of rays struck outward. The missiles disintegrated in fire-fountains, momentarily dazzling athwart the stars and the serene disc of the world. She did not reply in kind, for Eric wanted to conserve munitions not readily replaceable. Instead, he ordered her conned near the foe, until he was in range for energy weapons. "Kill," he said, and nuclear-powered flame leaped forth.

  The corvette accelerated to escape. With less mass, she could change velocity faster. North Atlantis followed doggedly, smashing or warding off missiles, absorbing blast-cannon shots in armor plate, unleashing fresh bursts of her own whenever the shifting configurations of battle brought her close enough. After hours, the survivors aboard a ruin knew they could not break free, and signaled surrender.

  "My compliments on your gallantry," Eric responded, "though you might ask yourselves if your cause was worth it. You may take lifeboats to Hopewell. I advise you do not bring them down at Abdallah City."

  He already knew, from communication, what had happened there. Accompanying him on his voyage, Muddlin' Through had left him to his warfare and herself entered atmosphere.

  Falkayn uttered the broadcast words that he knew would bring him into peril of his life. "Attention, attention . . . . Your owners have conspired with the rulers of Babur to bring war . . . . The Free Hermetian navy is about to demolish your company installations. Evacuate immediately . . . ."

  Aerial vehicles swarmed aloft. But Muddlin' Through was not the specialized speedster through the void, well-nigh helpless above a planet, which Streak had been. Trade pioneers must be prepared for trouble in any environment. The spacecraft descended in great spirals, from which again and again she swooped to dodge a missile or blaze at an opponent.

  Before Falkayn, as he sat in the pilot's chair, land and sea revolved crazily, clouds streamed past through day-bright azure, fighting machines flashed across vision like wind-flung raindrops. This was no space combat, which computers alone could direct. Movements were too fast, actions too unforeseeable. He meshed his intuition with Muddlehead's logic, sank his personality into his ship, and steered. Engines growled, air outside shrilled. His nostrils caught a thundery tang of ozone.

  "Hoo and ha!" van Rijn's voice bawled from the weapons control turret. Gleefully he tracked, sighted, fired, manning the entire system, sending vessel after vessel to its meteoric grave. "Oh, ho, ho! Casting bull's eyes at me, is you? Smack right back at you with a wet loincloth! Ha-ah, that was a near miss at us, good shooting, boy, only not quite good as this, by damn! Whoo-hoo! Brocken and brimstone, here goes another!"

  In the end, Muddlin' Through hung alone; and there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.

  Underneath her stretched a land that had been rich. Miners, builders, industrialists had ripped and befouled it till its river coursed poisoned among dumps and slag heaps, pavements and waste outlets, bearing death to the sea. Few human colonists of Hopewell had protested. This was not Earth, they still had plenty of room, nobody need make his home in the place that ground forth prosperity. Besides, the local government belonged to Abdallah Enterprises. In the middle of the desert it had created, the centrum raised splendid towers above many-colored sleeknesses. Looking down, Falkayn thought, This was a grand era in its way. I too will miss it.

  Cars fled in flocks. At his height they were like midges. He must make an effort to remember that each one bore fear, bewilderment, crushed hopes, longing for loves who were elsewhere and terror on their behalf. War scrubbed such peculiarities out of consciousness. He had not heart to speak further to this world, but let a recording repeat itself. "Free Hermes is striking at the Seven, Babur's allies. Our campaign will end when the war against the Commonwealth and the occupations of Hermes and Mirkheim do. Convey our message." He reflected that someday his wife and children might be likewise fleeing; for when would civilization in the future know safety?

  His time allowance was generous. Nothing had stirred for fifteen minutes when he ordered a torpedo released.

  Fifty kilotons sufficed. A fireball blossomed and rifted, smoke and dust roiled after to rise in a monstrous pillar that spread out in an ice-fringed toadstool cap, reverberations toned through the spaceship, and when sight came back, a crater lay in the land, from which a few twisted frameworks lifted like dead men's fingers.

  "Take orbit at ten radii," Falkayn directed, "and we'll wait for North Atlantis to finish her business."

  After Hopewell was once more a blue-and-white loveliness among the stars, he met with his shipmates, van Rijn and engineer Tetsuo Yoshida. The merchant was still gleeful. "Halloo, harroo," he chortled, "how I feel youthed! We had what Aristotle called a cathartic, ja, and gives me an abysmal appetite. Suppose I quickroast a nice Virginia ham with sweet potatoes and Caesar salad—and what would you two like for lunch?"

  "Later," Falkayn said. "I'm not hungry."

  Van Rijn considered him. "Your conscience is panging, ha? But that is silly, boy. We is vented a lot of beast in us by bashing what well deserved bashing. Is it a sin if we enjoy? Me, I wish we could make more raids."

  Yoshida lifted his brows. "I would not object personally," he said, "but unless I am mistaken, Freeman van Rijn, you gave your fellow planners a promise to confine yourself to this single action, if they would agree to your doing that much."

  He's too valuable to risk, Falkayn remembered: first as a leader of our overall strategy, afterward as our chief negotiator. My job from here on is to convey him safely to the headquarters he will set up, and then act as his special advisor and de
puty.

  Damn him, though, he's right. Being in battle ourselves was something we inwardly needed. Even I, even I.

  "Ja, is true," van Rijn grumbled. "So we got weeks, maybe months where we do hardly nothing but sit snuggled in our own fat. You got ideas how we can put our minds to some good use in between happenings?"

  "Poker," said Muddlehead.

  Experts agreed that it would take considerable time and money, and no few lives, to start Mirkheim producing afresh. However, immensely precious stocks of metals and supermetals lay already cast in ingots, awaiting shipment out. The Baburite occupation force received instructions to let the Stellar Metals Corporation have this on a profit-sharing basis. Stellar, in turn, contracted with Interstar Transport to carry it to the numerous markets.

  In the deeps of space, ships which had been lurking and watching drew alongside the freighters, matched hyperdrive phase, and signaled a wish to send people aboard. Suspecting no evil, the captains did. But those who entered, grinning, were armored and armed. In each case, they took swift possession.