by David Drake
Anston sipped the brandy with relish. He set the glass down and said, “Well, Leary, I’ll get to the point in good RCN fashion. The Republic is in a bad state, a bloody bad state, and the politicians are pouring us straight down the piss tube.”
Daniel stiffened and sat upright; he’d been leaning toward Anston without being aware of the fact. “Ah, I, ah…” he said. “I don’t pay much attention to politics, sir. I’m a serving officer and I’m, ah, forbidden to be involved in politics.”
Telling Anston that was like offering to teach a bird how to fly. The words were a measure of how disturbed Daniel was.
“Well, it’s time and past time for that to change,” Anston said forcefully. “The Senate will shortly be replaced by a Supreme Council drawn from the RCN and the Land Forces of the Republic. I’ll be President of the Council, but you can see that I’m a clapped out old crock. That’s where you come in, Leary.”
Daniel stood up, sliding his chair back. It fell over. His skin prickled as it had when he regained consciousness after pinching a nerve.
“We need you to run operations,” Anston said. “All the real power will be in your hands, and no one better to use it, we think.”
“I’m very sorry, Admiral,” Daniel said. His ears were buzzing. “I’ve suddenly been struck deaf. I haven’t heard a word since I sat down. I’m off to find a doctor immediately.”
He had to get off Cinnabar; he couldn’t possibly remain neutral if he stayed. Indeed, he probably needed to get out of the Cinnabar sphere of influence.
Do I tell Adele? I have to. But do I tell Deirdre, which means telling my father; which means…
“Leary, come back here,” Anston said, somewhere in the far distance.
Daniel jerked the door open. The doorman stood in his way.
“Now, the gentleman says—” the big man said.
Daniel head-butted him, breaking his nose, backed a step, and kicked the guard in the crotch. That would have been more effective with heavy boots, but the low quarters he wore with his Whites had rigid soles unlike the spacer’s boots worn with utilities and meant to fit within a riggers’ suit.
“Hogg!” Daniel shouted, hurling the doubled-over guard into the room. He wouldn’t have had a chance against the bigger man in a fair fight, but the guard hadn’t expected the mindless fury Daniel had unleashed on him. He couldn’t hit Anston—he would die before he hit Anston, even if the old man had gone mad—but hitting anybody else was a relief.
They can’t let us live now, Daniel realized. If he could get to Harbor Three, he might have a chance. There were spacers who would help Captain Leary regardless of what the high brass were saying, but the chance of getting there in torn Whites—he’d burst the seams of both his tunic and his trousers—wasn’t good.
There was a loud thump from the alley and the door swung open. The outer guard was down. Hogg held his folding knuckleduster knife open in his right hand. Daniel didn’t see blood on the blade, but that didn’t necessarily mean the guard was still alive.
“Leary, come back!” Anston called. “I apologize for being a bloody fool!”
The door to the left between Daniel and Hogg opened. Hogg shuffled forward, his knife held low to stab through a kidney toward the heart.
Mistress Forbes stepped into the hallway.
“Stop, Hogg!” Daniel shouted, but Hogg had frozen when he saw the Minister of Defense. He put his back against the wall and darted glances in both directions.
Daniel looked over his shoulder. Admiral Anston was out of his chair and standing in the doorway, gripping the jamb to stay upright. “It’s my bloody fault,” Anston said, but he was wheezing now.
“No, it is not,” said Minister Forbes. “I’m the one who insisted, because I didn’t trust the admiral’s certainty that no offer could shake your loyalty to the Republic.”
Daniel felt weak with reaction and relief. He braced the flat of his hand on the wall.
“Well, mistress,” he said. “I’m not the Leary to be tempted by offering to make me a politician.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Forbes said. “Now, can we join the admiral in the room with the brandy and discuss the real proposition I came to offer you?”
CHAPTER 3
Xenos on Cinnabar
The big guard who had tried to block Daniel’s way out of the interview room had managed to stand, though he was leaning forward and cupping his groin.
“Tester, get Riddle in the alley and help him to the car,” Forbes said. She was small and sharp-featured; her voice sounded like breaking glass. “Stay there until I join you.”
“Your man may need looking after,” Daniel said hoarsely. He had to pull the words individually from the jumble in his mind; adrenalin had shaken everything together.
“Naw, he’ll be okay,” Hogg said. His voice hadn’t settled either. He’d folded back the knife blade, but he hadn’t returned the knuckle-duster to his pocket yet. “He don’t deserve it, but he will be.”
“Well, wait in the hall,” Daniel said. His throat was dry. “Give Tester a hand and then come back.”
“S’okay,” Tester said, walking into the hallway and passing between Daniel and the minister on his way toward the outside door. He stood a little straighter with each step. “I’ll get Riddle.”
He didn’t look at Hogg on his way past.
“Let’s have that drink.” Anston said. He took Daniel’s arm and walked back to the wheelchair.
“Sit,” Forbes said, pointing to the chair Daniel had knocked over. She took one of those by the wall and dragged it to the table.
Under other circumstances Daniel would have gotten the chair for her himself, but he was still trembling from recent events and—the smile didn’t quite reach his lips—still quite irritated with the minister. This had been unpleasant, and it could have gone much worse. Though Forbes would probably have hushed up even a killing.
“Well…” she said as she put down her glass of brandy. “Let’s get down to business. Are you familiar with the Tarbell Stars?”
She sounded quite cheerful; either she didn’t realize what could have happened or she didn’t care. That seemed to be a necessary attitude for a politician. At any rate, Daniel had never heard his father express regret at what any of his successful schemes had cost other people.
“I’ve heard of them,” Daniel said cautiously. “I’m not familiar, no. I believe that though the cluster is independent, it’s well within what the Alliance considers its sphere of influence.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Forbes said, bobbing her head like a bird pecking seeds. “I’m sure your friend Mundy can give you all the information you need. Well, there’s a civil war going on there now.”
“I see,” said Daniel. There was nothing unusual about small governmental units fracturing, generally as the result of a leadership conflict. “I…Ah, minister? I trust the Republic isn’t planning to get involved in a matter that has far more importance to the Alliance?”
Because that would certainly mean a return to full-scale war between the two superpowers. Neither had recovered from the decades of grinding war which had paused with the Treaty of Amiens. A complete victory by either the Republic or the Alliance was almost impossible. It was far more likely that renewed war would cause both to collapse, which would lead directly to chaos and barbarism across all of human space.
The previous time war had come to that point, it caused a Hiatus in star travel which had lasted a thousand years.
“The Republic isn’t involved, no,” the minister said brightly. “But there are some intriguing aspects to the matter.”
Unexpectedly, Lord Anston clacked his glass down on the table. When the others looked at him, he said, “Leary, I have no business in this discussion. I was asked as a character reference, that’s all, and to be honest I’m sorry I went any farther than that.”
He thrust out his hand; his grip felt frail in Daniel’s.
“I’ll talk to Hogg about fishing,” Anston s
aid. He looked at Forbes for the first time since setting the glass down, glared, and added, “Leary, whatever you decide, may Heaven be with you. And with Cinnabar!”
He rolled to the door and let himself out. Only when it had latched behind him did Minister Forbes say, “Leary, there’s a considerable risk to you in the proposition I’m about to broach; that goes without saying. But I swear to you that if I thought there were real danger to the Republic, I wouldn’t have entertained the overtures.”
“Go on,” Daniel said. “Please,” he added, remembering that he was talking to the Minister of Defense.
Forbes nodded. Daniel’s reserve and Anston’s obvious disapproval seemed to have dampened her enthusiasm slightly. She resumed, “You’re correct in saying that the Tarbell Stars are within the Alliance sphere of influence, but you perhaps realize that Guarantor Porra regularly creates competing chains of command to divide potential opposition within his own polity?”
“Yes,” Daniel said. The space officers of the ships and ground establishments of the Fleet were paralleled by political officers of equal or greater rank. In the civil sphere, governors were watched and could be overruled by the Residents of the 5th Bureau, which reported directly to Guarantor Porra.
“Extraterritorial jurisdiction of the Tarbell Stars,” Forbes said, regaining her animation, “is under the 5th Bureau…but it has been divided between two separate dioceses. One of these is the diocese directed by General Storn, whom I believe you have met?”
Daniel’s face went very still. “I have, yes,” he said. “But only to have exchanged a few words with.”
A few words, and a salute.
“You would have to discuss the matter with someone else—”
With Adele.
“—if you want substantive information.”
“I don’t,” said Forbes. She was wearing a satisfied expression. “General Storn is backing, at least is interested in, the Tarbell government forces. The rebels call themselves the Upholders of Freedom. They’re supported and may have been created by a General Krychek. Krychek directs the other 5th Bureau diocese involved. He is a professional rival of Storn, and they appear to be personal enemies as well.”
“All right,” said Daniel, because the minister was waiting for him to say something. He didn’t know where the conversation was going, and he was unwilling to say anything which might imply an opinion until he knew more and had discussed the matter with Adele.
From her expression, Forbes wasn’t best pleased with his non-committal response. She nonetheless went on, “General Storn is unwilling to oppose the Upholders directly, since it’s at least possible that Krychek has the support of Guarantor Porra. There are numbers of mercenaries fighting on both sides of the conflict, however. General Storn has suggested through intermediaries that it would arouse no concern in Pleasaunce if the Tarbell government were to hire the Princess Cecile and her full complement.”
“I see,” said Daniel, since at last he did. Quite a number of questions remained, but only one had to be answered—if he were not going to walk out of the room right now, regardless of how the Minister of Defense might feel about it.
“Minister Forbes,” he said, “forgive me if this seems impertinent, but why is a high official of the Republic of Cinnabar bringing me this offer?”
“The Republic has no interest in the Tarbell Stars,” Forbes said. She didn’t sound offended or even surprised. “It has been suggested to me in my public capacity that if I could help General Storn in this matter, that it might aid the Republic in matters which are of interest to us.”
Daniel smiled wryly. If Minister Forbes were to secure concessions to the Republic from the Alliance, it would be a considerable benefit to her in the next leadership contest in the Senate. She had narrowly lost the Speakership election a few years previously, which was why she had been sent as envoy to Karst.
There was nothing improper in that. A Minister of Defense who benefitted the Republic might reasonably expect her efforts to be noticed.
“It seems to me…” Daniel said aloud, mostly as a placeholder. “That a corvette like the Sissie, even ably crewed, is unlikely to be an overwhelming factor in a rebellion of any size. The Tarbell cluster involves nearly a hundred stars, does it not?”
“Seventy with any population or government worth mentioning,” Forbes said, nodding agreement. “My suspicion is that Storn believes that you and Lady Mundy will be of more value to the Tarbell government than your armed yacht will. I haven’t discussed the question, but that’s how I would think if I were in his position.”
The trouble with doing things that others said were impossible… Daniel thought. Is that people keep coming up with other impossible things. Eventually they’re likely to be right.
Aloud he said, “I’ll think about the matter, Minister. I need to discuss it before I come to a decision.”
Forbes smiled and rose to her feet. “Very well, Captain,” she said. “I await your decision with a great deal of interest.”
The minister left the door open behind her as she walked out. Daniel heard her exchange a quiet greeting with Admiral Anston. Hogg looked in from the hall without saying anything.
Daniel joined Hogg. He’d expected Forbes to press him, perhaps even plead with him. Instead she had demonstrated that she had read his character during the Karst mission and that she was treating him with respect and intelligence.
He grinned. Forbes was manipulating him in the fashion she’d decided would be most effective. Forbes was doing her job.
Hogg backed away, waiting for Daniel to give him direction. Daniel said to Anston, “Sir? Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Did Forbes leave the brandy in there?” Anston said, nodding toward the room Daniel had left.
“Yes she did,” Daniel said. “Would you like help drinking it?”
“No, just leave me with the decanter,” Anston said. He barked a laugh. “I owe Forbes thanks for one thing. I’ve got a battalion of nurses that ordinarily worry me like I was a kitten in a dog pen. Forbes got them off my back for the afternoon.”
Anston wheeled himself into the doorway, then rotated his chair and looked up at Daniel. “I was a bloody fool to have gone along with this game, Leary,” he said.
Daniel shrugged. “Sir,” he said, “when RCN officers stop taking orders from our elected masters, the Republic is in sad shape. Anyway, no harm done.”
He saluted. The ripped back of his tunic flapped when his arm rose.
Anston returned the salute and disappeared into the drawing room. He closed the door behind him.
Daniel took a deep breath and said, “Hogg, it isn’t Admiral Anston who’s the bloody fool; or about to become one, anyhow.”
Hogg shrugged. “I guess you’ll make it work out well enough, master,” he said. “Anyway, that’s not my business to say.”
Clearing his throat, Hogg added, “I guess you need to chat with the mistress now?”
“Shortly,” Daniel said. He grinned widely. “But before I discuss matters with Adele, I need to talk to Miranda. I need to talk to my wife.”
* * *
Adele stood in the street outside Chatsworth Minor, talking to—mostly listening to—three women whom to the best of her knowledge she had never seen before. She held a 20-ounce mug of Bantry ale, wishing that she had gotten 4 ounces of spirits instead; her wrist was getting tired.
“Now she married Cousin Sandor,” said the tallest of the three, a woman with blonde hair, a brightly youthful face, and eyes that might have been a century old. Her voice had the brittleness of old age as well. “That’s my cousin, not yours, your ladyship.”
All three women laughed in affected tones.
One of the reasons Adele held the mug in her right hand was that it prevented her from instinctively taking the data unit out of her pocket and losing herself in it. That would be discourteous. So would reaching into her left tunic pocket and shooting the women dead with the pistol there, but that notion l
ooked increasingly attractive.
“Now, Priscilla—and how amusing that her name sounds so much like the name of your ship, Lady Mundy! Now Priscilla married—”
Daniel and Miranda were approaching, followed by a troupe of well-wishers which reminded Adele of her father’s clientele at the height of his political power. That wasn’t an altogether positive memory—Adele’s smile was too slight to be noticed by anyone looking at her—but she wasn’t superstitious.
“Ladies, you must excuse me!” Adele said. “I must speak with Captain Leary!”
That is the cold truth, because if I stay here any longer I will behave ungraciously.
“Adele, might I speak with you for a moment?” Daniel said before Adele was able to get out her very similar words. “Ah, perhaps with a little privacy?”
Miranda squeezed his shoulder and turned to their entourage. “I’ll try to deputize for both of us with our guests,” she said. She looked as happy as Adele had ever seen her.
Miranda’s face was framed by a halo of white gauze, and her dress was a cloud of similar material. The individual layers of fabric were so fine that Adele wondered if there was a membrane of some other material to prevent the ensemble from being transparent in bright sunlight.
“Yes, we’ll go up to your suite,” Adele said. “You arrived at a good time for me.”
She wouldn’t really have shot the women. She might have overturned the beer onto their feet, however. She would have regretted that afterwards: her mother’s ghost would be horrified.
Hogg cleared a path through the people on the steps, all of whom wanted to say something to Daniel. He was more diplomatic than Adele would have expected.
If she hadn’t seen Hogg a moment before, she wouldn’t have doubted that he really was as drunk as his slurred, “Clear ta way fer mashter!” sounded. He swung his mug back and forth, but the drops he sloshed out never quite stained the finery of importunate well-wishers.
Tovera was bringing up the rear. Adele could only hope that she too was on good behavior.