by David Drake
“Ah, Brother?” Cleveland said. They’d reached the nearest of three single-story buildings near the Chapel. Altgeld was turning the door latch. “Would you like me to help with the unloading?
Everyone, Daniel included, turned to look back toward the Kiesche. The forklift was backing onto the PSP trackway with six cases of carbines on its prongs. Inside the hold, members of the ship’s crew were readying the next stack for transfer.
At the end of the track, among the trees where the ground was firmer, waited a sizable portion of the community grouped six or eight apiece around high-wheeled handtrucks. Daniel judged there were at least a hundred people and more than a dozen trucks.
“I think things are well taken care of, Brother Cleveland,” Altgeld said. “Come and join us. This bounty is entirely your doing.”
He looked at Daniel and added in embarrassment, “And your and your companions’ doing, Captain. Forgive me.”
“Cleveland’s parents provided the cargo,” Daniel said, following Altgeld into what turned out to be a single office filling the building’s interior. “I’d say you were right the first time.”
“How do you figure to store the guns?” Hogg said as he walked in after the others. He wasn’t carrying a shoulder weapon, but heaven only knew what was in his baggy pockets. A short-barrelled pistol and his folding knife were as much a part of his routine wear as his boots were, and not infrequently he had produced a grenade when the need arose.
“We’re dividing them among the dwellings,” Rennie said. “There is at least one person in each block who has firearms training and usually several. We’re not expecting a sudden raid by Pantellarian forces—and frankly, I don’t believe the Garrison has transport for such a thing, let alone the training. Nevertheless we’re prepared.”
“Now that we have sufficient arms,” Altgeld added, “everyone will be trained. Even me.”
He smiled. “I don’t know how much Brother Cleveland has told you about our company,” he said, “but while we truly believe in the fellowship of all people, we cut our philosophy to the times.”
“I’ve never seen the point in discussing religion,” Daniel said. He shrugged. “That aside, there’s nothing in what you say that I’d take exception to.”
“I rather thought that might be the case,” said Altgeld. His smile made him look even more tired than he had when Daniel had first seen him out the Kiesche’s hatchway. He settled himself onto a chair of wicker on a wooden frame and said, “Sit down, please. Or stand, of course—”
He grinned at Hogg, looking like a pile of wrinkled clothing beside the door.
“—and tell us—tell Rennie, primarily—what help you want.”
Daniel sat on the edge of a similar chair and leaned forward. “I’m glad that Lady Mundy has been in contact with you,” he said. “My second officer informed me that she and her companions were taking refuge with the Navy, but I’ve been fully occupied with bringing the ship here. I was able to broach a possibility with her, however, and in a moment I hope you’ll let me talk to her to confirm the plan from her end.”
He nodded toward the console at one end of the room, salvaged from a starship like many of those in service at a distance from major centers of civilization. When the starship’s thrusters and High Drives were burned out and her hull was good for nothing but scrap metal, its astrogation computer was still more powerful than necessary for any ground-based requirements.
That certainly included secure satellite communications, if the operator knew his business. The Transformationists might be mystics, but they included mystics with very impresive real-world skill sets—as Sister Rennie proved.
“Yes, of course,” Altgeld said, rising to his feet. “Olga and I will leave you alone with the console.”
“No, no, please sit down,” Daniel said, smiling. “I could contact Lady Mundy through the Kiesche’s equipment if I wanted privacy. I’d like you to be present, since this is going to require your agreement and support.”
Altgeld settled back; Rennie hadn’t moved. She had certainly realized that Daniel didn’t need their console to speak with Adele.
“As I understand it,” Daniel said, “the problems within the independence movement started when Colonel Bourbon was taken prisoner. Is that correct?”
Altgeld looked at Rennie, who shrugged. “Yes,” she said. “The serious problems.”
Daniel nodded crisply. “The present situation isn’t sustainable,” he said. “Before long the other three factions will begin open warfare within Brotherhood. The fighting may draw you in also, but whether or not that happens, the Pantellarians will seize the planet. Ordinary people will support Pantellaria because it will be the only body which can re-impose law and order. Which is what most people want more than they want ideology.”
Rennie looked at the frowning Altgeld and said, “Independence is an ideology, Robert.” Turning to Daniel she said, “I agree with your assessment, Captain.”
“I suspect that the leaders of the Regiment and the Navy agree also,” Daniel said. He had served under officers much less quick on the uptake than Rennie was showing herself. “I’ve asked Adele—Lady Mundy, that is, to propose to the other factions a meeting of all parties here—”
He gestured with his right hand toward the wall behind him and the community beyond.
“—in Pearl Valley, because even the Garrison leaders will trust your community to keep your collective word. Which they wouldn’t the other parties in the coalition.”
“I wouldn’t trust the other parties,” said Altgeld. “And in former days, I wouldn’t have trusted myself.”
He shrugged. “Merchant service is a hard school,” he said. “But now, yes.”
“And we have enough strength here to enforce a truce,” Rennie said, nodding. “Whereas for us to assault Brotherhood successfully would be more problematic.”
Rennie grinned. Her expression reminded Daniel of Tovera’s on occasion.
“At this meeting,” Daniel said, “I’m going to propose that my crew and I travel to Ischia and there arrange the release of the imprisoned envoys at my own expense.”
“Is that possible?” said Altgeld.
“Will the factions in Brotherhood agree?” said Rennie simultaneously, leaning forward.
“I believe it’s possible, yes,” Daniel said, feeling himself relax. The questions were practical ones. They meant that the Transformationists were already in agreement. “And as for the other factions…”
He turned his hands palms-up before him.
“I won’t know for sure until I speak to Lady Mundy again, but she said that Captain Samona is on board and that Administrator Tibbs, though less enthusiastic, has given her tentative approval. Mundy won’t contact Colonel Mursiello until I tell her matters are arranged at this end, but neither she nor I think Mursiello will be able to object. His own troops, at least some of them, would turn on him if he blocked the rescue of Colonel Bourbon.”
Altgeld stood. “Make your call, Captain,” he said. “Matters are arranged at this end.”
“And I,” said Sister Rennie, also rising, “will make arrangements to receive our visitors in mutual safety and convenience.”
She looks like Tovera again, Daniel thought as he walked to the console.
CHAPTER 15
Pearl Valley on Corcyra
Adele could have ridden in the truck’s cab between Captain Samona and his Navy driver, but she had decided that the cross-bench in the box was probably a better choice. The canvas sides were rolled up to the roof so the visibility was just as good in every direction except forward, and it would be easier to get out if they were ambushed. Spray which the four lift fans kicked up from the Cephisis River clung like a heavy mist to those in back, but she was used to that sort of thing.
The air-cushion truck was large enough to hold a platoon, but there were only four Navy personnel in the back with Adele and the other three Cinnabar nationals. The Transformationists—which in this case meant Br
other Altgeld relaying Daniel’s decision—had directed the other three factions to come with only six people each.
Samona was holding rigidly to the limit. He probably felt that he couldn’t bring enough gunmen with him to make a real difference if everything went wrong, so he was gaining good will by obeying the rules. In front of Adele, he had ordered the Freccia’s sailing master—the destroyer’s highest ranking space officer with Samona gone and his lieutenant hostage on Ischia—to come in at low level in an emergency. After the Pantellarian ships’ attack at Hablinger, that was a credible threat.
Adele wasn’t expecting an ambush. Tovera, to her left on the bench, and Hale, on her right to the other side of Vesey, seemed to feel otherwise. Hale might not have been so nervous on her own, but Tovera’s alertness seemed to have infected her.
Adele’s lips quirked. Tovera was always alert and always expected an attack, but Tovera was a sociopath and not really human. An ordinary human being who acted the way she did would be insane. Hale would have to learn that.
Or go insane, of course. There were always options.
The truck slowed, then turned hard left with the S-bend skidding which was the inevitable province of air-cushion vehicles. Vesey half-rose and bent over Hale to look forward, clinging to one of the hoops which supported the roof and sides.
“We’re on the creek now,” she called over the fan howl. “The settlement should be less than a mile—”
Vesey jerked back and shouted, “Whoa!”
She’s been shot! Adele brought the pistol out of her pocket without thinking of what she was doing. The small weapon wouldn’t be effective at any distance, but it was what she had.
Branches banged against the cab and then along the hoops as the truck lurched onward. They would have slapped Vesey in the face, possibly blinding her, if she hadn’t dodged quickly.
The truck was pushing through foliage on both sides now, and repeatedly the skirts bumped over rocks above the surface of the stream. There was less spray, but leaves and occasionally living creatures were scraped into the truck box.
A bronze-colored creature no longer than an index finger flopped from a branch and immediately struck at the nearest object: Tovera’s left boot. Hale raised her carbine to use the butt as a pestle. “I’ll get it!” she said.
“No!” said Tovera, bending over.
Hale hesitated. Vesey put her hand over Hale’s, though her eyes were fixed on the creature. Adele thought it had tiny legs around the margin of its body, but she might have been seeing a flap of translucent skin. It was almost certainly poisonous.
“It’ll bite you,” Hale said, amazed that her companions didn’t appear to see the obvious.
Tovera’s hand moved; her fingers pinched the creature just behind the head. With the same motion, she flipped it over the side of the vehicle. It was still writhing and apparently unharmed.
There was a tiny splotch of yellow where the creature had been attached to the gray boot. Tovera looked at Hale and said, “Thank you. But I felt that professional courtesy was called for.”
Vesey chortled; Adele smiled. Hale, nonplussed, lowered her carbine.
“Six kept the ship on the surface all the way up the river,” Vesey said, looking sideways but seated firmly in the center of the bench with Adele. “It’s a pity he lifted here instead of clearing it for us.”
“There might have been people here in the creek that he couldn’t have seen until he was on them,” Adele said, following Vesey’s eyes.
And the foliage was alive and full of lesser life. Daniel was certainly ruthless enough to let his thrusters sear a lethal path across a forest, but it was the sort of thing he preferred to avoid. This far up the river, the Kiesche was beyond the slant range of anti-ship missiles from Brotherhood.
There wasn’t a great deal that Adele cared about; certainly not other living things, with the exception of a few human beings who had taken her into their friendship and protection. She appreciated people who did care, though. People should choose to behave well to their surroundings, human or otherwise.
“Surely Captain Leary didn’t come this far in surface effect?” Hale said. “Really, I don’t think that would be possible. Flying fifty miles in the atmosphere would be an amazing job in a tramp freighter, even at five hundred feet or so.”
Tovera leaned forward. “It’s possible,” she said. “From what I’ve seen, Lieutenant Vesey could do it. Not so, Lieutenant?”
Vesey looked embarrassed. “Not so well as Six, certainly,” she said. “But if I were forced to try, I believe I would have managed the business, yes.”
She gestured toward the open back of the truck to change the subject from herself. “As for what Six did, though, there’s no question, Hale,” she said. “The mud bar at the mouth of this creek had been baked to shale. You could see it broken into plates after we’d driven over it.”
Tovera grinned, still looking at Hale. “Stay with Vesey,” she said. “There’s no end of things you can learn. If you survive.”
Tovera returned to surveying the forest they were bucking through. Adele thought about the interaction she had just witnessed. Vesey was quiet and easily overlooked. Hale, a much more forceful officer, had probably been taking her as a cipher to be ignored or even elbowed aside despite her rank. Thanks to Tovera, that wouldn’t happen now.
An ordinary human being, Cory for example, wouldn’t have thought of correcting Hale’s mistake until it had flashed up as an open problem. I wonder if a smart sociopath who works at it isn’t better at being human than most human beings are?
Another aspect of the business occurred to Adele, though she kept the frown of doubt from reaching her face. Tovera worked at displaying herself as an intelligent, caring member of Adele’s circle—the intelligence was real—because she had attached herself to Adele. Tovera’s natural behavior was more similar to that of a weasel than to that of the caring pedagogue she had just mimicked.
Adele let herself smile broadly enough that a stranger would have recognized the expression. I’ve found a reason for living: to encourage Tovera to be a kinder, gentler person when kind, gentle behavior is appropriate. The universe being what it was, the natural Tovera had many opportunities to display herself—or itself—nonetheless.
Captain Samona slid open the window between the cab and the truck box. “I see it ahead!” he called.
A woman in coveralls stood by the riverbank. She waggled one of her orange paddles in the air, then pointed both paddles in parallel past herself.
“That’s the Kiesche!” Hale said, leaning out to look forward. Adele could see a starship through the windshield, but she couldn’t have sworn that it was the Kiesche. In any case, that was Daniel waving from the base of the ship’s ramp.
The truck slowed, hopped, and then stopped thirty feet from the Kiesche. The Navy personnel—at least two of the four were simply gunmen, not spacers—used the skirt for a step as they exited by the back of the truck. They jogged around on both sides to flank Captain Samona as he got out of the cab.
Vesey hopped to the ground and reached upward to take Adele’s hand and brace her as she followed. Hale watched with a slight frown. She hadn’t been a member of the crew for long enough to automatically offer the mistress help with any physical test.
Vesey smiled at Adele and said, “It’s good to be back.”
“Yes,” said Adele, walking toward Daniel. He had now been joined by a pair of middle-aged strangers.
She heard Hale saying, “I didn’t realize you’d been here before, Lieutenant.”
Adele smiled. It must be difficult for an outsider like Hale to work into an existing family, but she was trying.
Hogg stood by the ramp with his hands in his pockets, looking toward the ground car which was pulling into the clearing. Following it was a six-wheeled truck with a pintle-mounted automatic weapon. Hogg’s stocked impeller leaned against the outrigger beside him. It threatened no one and was easy to overlook—unless something unpleasant
started to happen.
The ground car settled as the driver released the pressure in the hydraulic suspension which had given it an extra 30 centimeters of clearance. Administrator Tibbs got out.
Brother Graves had said that the road from Brotherhood to the Transformationist settlement was circuitous and occasionally rough. The Regiment didn’t have a full-sized air-cushion vehicle, so their envoys to the conference had decided to travel this way instead of coming upriver in a pair of air-cushion jeeps.
“Lady Mundy,” said Daniel. “Allow me to present you to Coordinator Altgeld and the community’s military adviser, Sister Rennie.”
“Lady Mundy,” said Rennie, offering her hand after Adele had shaken with the coordinator, “I’d appreciate a moment to chat with you and your servant before the general conference gets under way. If that’s agreeable to you, Captain Leary?”
“Lady Mundy doesn’t need my approval to speak with anyone she pleases,” said Daniel, his tone minusculely guarded.
Adele understood Daniel’s concern. The unexpected is rarely a spacer’s friend. Or a spy’s, come to that.
Tovera stepped between Adele and Rennie. “Where were you planning to take us?” she said harshly to the Transformationist.
“I thought we’d step to the edge of the field there,” Rennie said in a mild tone. She nodded to the belt of waist-high grass between the mowed field and the natural forest. “That way we remain in sight of everyone, but we’re out of the line of fire of the impeller in the hummock we’ll be standing next to.”
Tovera barked a laugh. Adele had heard her servant laugh before, but the timbre of this sound was like nothing in the past.
“Sure,” Tovera said. “Let’s get out of the way.”
Adele followed Rennie and Tovera. When she got close enough she saw that what she’d taken for a natural swell in the ground was actually covered with chameleon fabric which mimicked the surrounding grass. She didn’t doubt that there was an automatic impeller concealed within.
Rennie nodded minusculely toward the hillock. “The man there is a former Land Forces sergeant,” she said, “and the best gunner I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine why the Pantellarians would want to attack us, but I’m not privy to their internal counsels. Colonel Mursiello and his cronies don’t need a reason to attack someone—just an opportunity. I want them to regret it if they decide they have an opportunity here.”