by David Drake
“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 minusculy 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 minusculy 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.”
Rennie breathed deeply. “Lady Mundy,” she said. “I’ve told my colleagues, and your colleagues after the Kiesche landed, that I was an Alliance colonel in my life before I joined the community here. This is true, but I think I should add to you—”
“Because she’ll learn it herself!” Tovera said.
“Of course Lady Mundy would learn it—and would learn even if you didn’t know already, mistress,” Rennie said, her voice suddenly hard. Her eyes locked with Tovera’s for a moment, then flicked back to Adele. “That I was not a colonel in the Army of the Alliance but rather in the Fifth Bureau.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Adele. “I was a librarian before I joined the RCN, and those habits of thought still color my perceptions.”
Rennie nodded. “Yes, they do,” she said. In a voice that might have been wistful she said, “I was sent to Pearl Valley fifteen years ago, investigating. I pretended to be a convert, of course. To my surprise I found real kinship, a wonderful thing. Nobody cared what I had been or why I had come here, even after I confessed. It’s an amazing feeling.”
She smiled, her eyes on the past. “It transformed me,” she said. She laughed to make a joke out of what she had said, if anyone chose to believe that it was a joke.
It wasn’t a joke, of course. Adele said, “I understand what it means to become a member of a family after a lifetime of being alone.”
The thrum of powerful fans sounded, approaching from the north. “That will be the Garrison’s two armored personnel carriers,” Rennie said. “If they’ve been able to get both of them airborne, that is. Let’s head for the Chapel.”
Tovera said, “Let’s not get too close till the Garrison has landed, though.”
“Umm?” said Adele, looking from Tovera to Rennie.
“There are meter-high steel spikes in the bushes near the Chapel,” Rennie said. “We’ve asked our visitors to stay at least fifty meters out, so it shouldn’t matter; but if someone did try to land an aircar too close to the building … well, you can’t tell how far a fan blade will fly.”
They walked toward the Chapel as two APCs came in low over the treetops, one of them laboring. Adele joined the laughter as the Garrison vehicles suddenly jerked away as they started to land beside the Chapel’s porch.
* * *
Daniel followed Hogg through the wedge-shaped doorway of the Chapel and stutter-stepped before he regained his stride. He really disliked the habit of some people to stop in doorways with others—with Daniel himself—behind them, but the sudden wash of peace that came over him had almost made him do the same thing himself.
The room was not a rotunda though the interior floor plan was round. Daniel looked at the ceiling as he walked down the aisle toward the table at the far end. The roof sloped upward to a central tower covered with a frosted skylight. The sides glowed blue, and the metal tracery which strengthened the translucent panels flowed in curves which were themselves soothing.
The tall windows between the wall buttresses were of colored glass. Most of them gave the interior a feeling of the blue depths of the sea, though there were swirls and blotches from the whole spectrum visible when Daniel looked directly at the panels. The wall opposite the entrance was red in emphasis, but the light through it was nonetheless peaceful.
“This is the most lovely building I’ve ever been in,” Daniel said to Brother Altgeld.
Altgeld smiled. “It was a very peaceful spot from the beginning,” the coordinator said. “Our records say that was the reason the Chapel was built here.”
The table at the base of the central aisle was rectangular. Mursiello was presumably the man in an Alliance dress uniform with the hollow stars of a colonel on his shoulder-boards. He had appropriated one end of the table, and Captain Hochner sat to his right on the long side nearer the entrance.
Samona and Tibbs, each with an aide—the Regimental aide wore a Pantellarian major’s service uniform—were both on the opposite long side. Adele was seated on the right end of the near side, and Sister Rennie was beside Hochner.
Daniel started toward the seat between Rennie and Adele. “Please take the end spot, Captain Leary,” Altgeld said in a clear voice. “We’re gathered to hear your proposals. That place will allow you to address all the principals without turning your head.”
“I’m not here to listen to somebody telling us to make nice-nice with the Pantellarian oppressors because they’re friends of Cinnabar,” Mursiello said. He glared in challenge at Daniel. The room’s acoustics were excellent.
Daniel chuckled as he took the place offered to him, but he put his hands on the back of the chair instead of sitting down. “As best I know,” he said cheerfully, “my government doesn’t have a position on whoever’s in charge on Pantellaria—or Corcyra, more to the point. Certainly I don’t. I’m here as an entrepreneur, I suppose you’d say.”
Nobody at the table spoke. Beyond them, the ranks of curving benches would seat about six hundred people; most of the spaces were filled. Apart from the normal creaks and shuffling of a large gathering, the spectators might have been miles away.
“Now, I’ve got a military background, as I’m sure you know,” Daniel said, “but it doesn’t take an expert to see that the present stalemate is ruining Corcyra. You’re shipping about half the copper that you were before the Pantellarians landed, and your prices are lower as well because of the perceived risk in case Pantellaria tries to enforce a real blockade.”
“They won’t,” said Captain Samona.
“Perceived risk, Captain,” Daniel said. “The reduced prices are a matter of record, as you can check as easily as I—”
As Adele.
“—did.”
Mursiello muttered something under his breath, but no one interrupted again.
“The quickest way to break the stalemate in a good way—good for independent Corcyra, that is—is to get antiship missiles from Karst,” Daniel said. “And the best way to do that is to get your envoys back from the jackleg pirates holding them and execute the deal which those envoys have already negotiated.”<
br />
He grinned at his listeners. “You won’t do better the next time,” he said, “and the folks ruling Karst may well be having second thoughts already. I’ve dealt with them, remember.”
“We can’t get the envoys back,” Mursiello said. “Those idiots on Ischia want us to gut the country, give away the next twenty years—”
“It’s not that bad!” said Tibbs, glaring at Mursiello like a bright-eyed bird. “They want the carrying trade, but their prices—”
“They want the trade, Karst wants the trade, everybody wants a piece of us!” Mursiello said. He slammed his fist on the table. “Well, they’re not going to get it!”
“Colleagues,” Daniel said. “I think—”
“Mursiello, you were a police sergeant on Pantellaria before you decided to take Alliance money to beat up miners here,” said Captain Samona. “Prospering as a thug doesn’t make you a statesman!”
“You can shut your gob now, you stuck-up prick!” Mursiello said, lurching to his feet.
Hochner was standing also. He’d found a replacement for the pistol Hogg had taken away. Now he unbuckled his holster flap with his left hand and put his right on the butt.
A Transformationist from the nearest benches gripped the back of Hochner’s neck with one hand. He twisted his wrist up with the other.
The pistol clanked to the floor. Hochner tried to turn but couldn’t. His face was turning purple, a combination of strain and fury. The man holding him was easily in his fifties and didn’t look particularly strong, but Hochner wasn’t going anywhere.
The Transformationist’s face was calm and expressionless. I wonder what he did before he found god? Daniel thought.
Altgeld touched the point of Hochner’s hip. “Please sit down, Captain,” he said. “We take seriously our promise to keep all our guests safe.”
You certainly saved Hochner’s life, Daniel thought. If Hogg—or Tovera!—had stopped the Garrison officer, it would have been messier and quite permanent.
“Siddown, Hochner,” Mursiello said, dropping back into his chair. He was angry, but he kept his eyes on the table in front of him. He must have realized that there were hundreds of people in the room with him, and scarcely a soul would mind if he were strapped to the conference table and flayed alive.
Hochner sat down beside Brother Altgeld. The man holding him moved back to the bench; he was so nondescript that Daniel wasn’t sure he could tell the fellow from those seated to either side of him.
Tovera is pretty colorless also, come to think.
“I understand your qualms about paying extortion to Ischia,” Daniel said. “Apart from anything else, you can’t give both Ischia and Karst the same thing, and getting your envoys back won’t help unless you have the missiles also.”
Everyone was looking at him. They looked like fish coming to the surface of a pond when they expect to be fed.
“Therefore,” Daniel said, “I propose to gain the release of the envoys by my own efforts. I don’t require any financial contribution from Corcyra, before or after the fact, but I want your agreement to ratify my actions if that becomes necessary. I want it clear that I’m not a pirate.”
He wasn’t lying, but he was allowing his listeners to believe things that he hadn’t said. For most of the parties it didn’t matter—though as a matter of course, Daniel didn’t like to discuss his plans with people who had no reason to know except their curiosity.
Mursiello and Hochner were another matter. It was important that they believe Daniel was going to attempt the impossible.
“Just how do you plan to do this?” Mursiello said. “I don’t think you can!”
“You may be correct, of course, Colonel,” Daniel said, “but in that case you haven’t lost anything. I mean you personally and the independence movement also. As for my plans—”
He looked around the table again, still smiling.
“—I’ll say just that I hope to release the hostages without violence, but I will use any means which the usage of the civilized galaxy deems to be proper for dealing with pirates. As the Ischians have shown themselves to be.”
There was silence. Mursiello still glowered, but there was a cunning look beneath his hostility.
“It appears to me that an attempt to free the prisoners by violence,” said Altgeld, “may cause the Ischians to execute them. Or indeed, that the prisoners may be killed in the attempt?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he said, “those are certainly possibilities. War has risks, life has risks. But I point out—”
He deliberately shaped his expression and tone on the stern models his father had used when urging the Senate to take a difficult course because the alternatives were worse.
“—that if you don’t achieve the return of the prisoners, the Ischians will offer them to Pantellaria. In fact, I’m surprised that this hasn’t happened already. And the Pantellarians will certainly execute them as traitors.”
“Leary’s right,” said Administrator Tibbs. “We have nothing to lose.”
Captain Samona nodded and said, “Yes, Leary’s offering the best chance we’ve had to get our people back and maybe to win this war. Go ahead, I say.”
Altgeld looked at the Garrison commander. “Colonel Mursiello?” he said. “Are you willing for Captain Leary to make the attempt under the auspices of the Independence Council?”
Mursiello’s face worked with suppressed anger. “All right, waste your time, Leary,” he said. “But it is a waste of time, you know!”
“Then I believe we’re done here,” Altgeld said. He and Rennie got to their feet. “All of you are welcome to stay with us as long as you like. No one will try to convert you, though I’ll warn you that our community here is a very pleasant place to remain.”
Adele was putting away her data unit. “Thank you,” said Daniel. “I need to prepare the ship for liftoff. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be able to return.”
Assuming we’re not all dead. But Daniel always assumed that he would succeed, and that had generally turned out to be true.
CHAPTER 16
Platt’s Compound on Dace
The six submachine guns fired more or less together, though the first burst came before Hogg shouted “Fire!” and the two last followed him shouting “Cease fire!” There might have been yet another burst at the end if Hale hadn’t grabbed Furstein by the right wrist and twisted his hand and weapon skyward.
Daniel was philosophical about the shooting. He hadn’t been under any illusions about how his spacers measured up as marksmen. That was one of the reasons he’d set the crew to weapons practice here on the shore of the island.
“I’ve got them aiming at holographic projections right now, Master Platt,” Daniel said to the soft-looking bald man facing him beside the wall of Barracks #1. The shooters were a hundred yards away, so the gunfire was only an unpleasant crackling against the strong breeze. “Not a one of ’em would have a problem if I told them to blast you to cats’ meat instead. So tell me about the Corcyran envoys again, only this time make it the truth.”
Platt closed his eyes, but he couldn’t keep tears from leaking out under them. “Don’t,” he blubbered. “Don’t don’t don’t …”
“Bloody hell, Evans!” Hale said. “You’ve got to take out the empty magazine before you can put in a fresh tube!”
Hogg and Hale were doing the training, but Daniel suspected that Hale was learning as much as the spacers under her charge. Her experience on a marksmanship team at the Academy would have given her a very false impression of what “shooting” meant to the average spacer. She had to understand the reality before she found herself commanding spacers in a firefight.
“Just tell me how the envoys were captured,” Daniel said soothingly. “Or arrested, if you want put it that way. You’re not in any trouble if you just tell me the truth.”
He’d figured the gunfire would make Platt uneasy, but he hadn’t expected the fellow to be such an abject coward that the implied threat mad
e him incoherent. Daniel tried to hide his disgust when he realized that Platt had soiled himself in fear. Well, they wouldn’t be staying on Dace for long.
Platt’s Compound was one of eight settlements on the planet, all more or less the same. Dace was a low-lying world. Shallow seas covered ninety percent of the surface, and when a storm really got going, it could circle the planet several times before subsiding.
Large-scale colonization and normal agriculture were impossible, but it was a good place to take on reaction mass, and it provided seafood protein in simple factories which sucked in water and compressed the creatures which they filtered out. There was nothing in the seas more complex than a rotifer.
Platt’s had two barracks, a processing plant, and a residence which was only half the size of normal barracks. All the buildings were formed from slabs of edge-welded structural plastic. In good condition they were watertight. They would have floated off in storms if they hadn’t been anchored deep into the rock.
The permanent staff was four women and eight men, all members of one family. The women doubled as prostitutes; probably the men did also. Daniel hadn’t always been fastidious, but he found it hard to imagine that even the randiest spacer, no matter how much he had drunk, would have found the Platts enticing. No doubt he was wrong.
“It was nothing to do with us,” Platt said. He didn’t open his eyes. “We just made the call, you see. This ship from Ischia landed at Riddle’s Place—”
Near the south pole.
“—and said there was five hundred thalers for anybody who told them that a ship bound for Corcyra had landed at their compound. Just told them, you see? And five hundred thalers, that’s real money!”
Gunfire ripped along the shoreline. Platt whimpered and hunched forward, screwing his eyes closed again. Hale shouted at Evans; she was getting hoarse.
“You’re fine, Platt,” Daniel said, patting the fellow’s shoulder. “Just tell us the whole truth and we’ll be gone like we were never here.”
Butler, the engineer of the Cordelia, the ship which had been returning the envoys from Karst, was still on Corcyra when Daniel was looking for information on the capture. Butler said that they’d landed at Platt’s on Dace, the usual layover between Karst and Corcyra. They normally spent three days on the ground, mostly to rest the crew: the Cordelia’s fore-rigging was in bad condition, and the splices required clearing constantly.