Generation Warriors

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Sassinak . . ." the man said slowly. "You had an ancestress Lunzie?" This was something new. How would he know? Sassinak nodded. The man went on, "I believe we are distantly related."

  "I doubt it," Sassinak said warily. What was this about?

  "Let me explain," he said, as if they had settled down in a club with all afternoon to chat. "Your grandfather Dougal was Fleet, as you are, and he married into a merchanter family . . . but Chinese. Quite against the custom of both his people and hers. He never told his family about the marriage, and she eventually left him to return to her family, with her daughters. His son they liked less, and when he married your mother and decided to join a new colony, it seemed the best solution for everyone. But your grandmother's family kept track of your father, of course, and when I was a child I learned your name, and that of your siblings, in family prayers."

  "They . . . knew about us?"

  "Yes, of course. When your colony was raided, your grandmother's ship was hung with white flags. When they heard you had survived . . ."

  "But how could they?"

  "You were honor graduate in the Academy. Surely you realized that an orphan rising to honor graduate would be featured in news programs."

  "I never thought." She might have, if Abe's death had not come on the heels of that triumph, and her grief filled every moment until her first posting.

  "The name is unusual. It had made your grandmother very angry for her son to choose a name like that. So they searched the databases, found your original ID. They assumed you had done the same, and would make contact if and when you chose." He shrugged, and smiled at her. "It has nothing to do with your purpose here, but I thought you might like to know, since circumstances brought us together."

  If she had a later. "I . . . see." She had no idea what etiquette applied; clearly he expected something more from her than he would of another stranded Fleet officer. "I'm sorry. I don't know what obligations I would have under your customs . . ."

  "You? It is our family that did not protect you. Our family that did not make sure you knew of us. What I am trying to say is that you have a claim on us, if you are not ashamed of the connection,"

  "I'm not ashamed." That much she could say honestly, with utter conviction. To have another segment of her family accept her brought her close to tears, but not with shame. "I'm . . . amazed, surprised, stunned. But not ashamed."

  "Then, if it pleases you, we should go this way for you to meet Fleur again. She, too, was insistent that you must know about our family bond before you talked to her."

  She tried to reorganize her thoughts as they went on. A family, at least her father's side. Now, why had she always thought her mother was the connection to Lunzie? Chinese didn't bother her. Why would it? And what kind of family had Dougal had, that he hadn't told them about his wife? Lunzie had said something about finding Fiona's children stuffy. She tried to remember, as she usually tried to forget, her parents. They had both been dark-haired, and she did remember that her father had once kidded her mother about her "Assyrian" nose, whatever that meant.

  Her relative, in whatever degree, led her to into a huge room in which great cylinders hissed softly at one another. Pipes as thick as her waist connected them, code-striped for hot and cold water, steam, gas. Something thrummed in the distance. A narrow door marked "Storage" opened into a surprisingly large chamber that had evidently been used by the group for some time. Battered but comfortable chairs, stacks of pillows, strips of faded carpet. Sassinak wished she could collapse into the pillows and sleep for a day. But Fleur was waiting, as elegant as she had been in her own shop, in soft blues and lavenders, her silvery hair haloed around her head.

  "Dear girl," she said, extending a hand with such elegance that Sassinak could not for a moment reply. "You look worn out. You know, you didn't have to get in this amount of trouble just to talk to me again."

  "I didn't intend to."

  Sassinak took the chair she was offered. Her newfound relative grinned at her and shut the door. She and Fleur were alone. She eyed the older woman, not quite sure what she was looking for.

  "I suppose you could say that things . . . took off." Sitting down, in a real chair, she could feel every tired muscle. She fought back a yawn.

  "I'll be as brief as I can." Fleur shifted a little in her seat and then stared at a space on the floor between them. "In the hopes that we will have time later to fill in what I leave out now." Sassinak nodded. "When Abe first met me, I had been captured, held hostage for my family's behavior and finally sold into prostitution." As a start, that got Sassinak's attention. She sat bolt upright.

  "You?"

  "My family were wealthy merchanters, rivals of the Paradens. Or so the Paradens thought. I'd been brought up to wealthy, luxury, society: probably spoiled rotten, though I didn't know it. The perfect hostage, if you look at it that way." Another pause. Sassinak began to feel a growing horror, and the certainty that she knew what was coming. "We were taken," Fleur said, biting off each word. "Me and my husband. Supposedly, it was independent pirates. That's what our families were told. But we knew, from the moment we were locked in the Paraden House security wing. I never knew the exact details, but I do know they asked for a ransom that neither my family nor his could have survived independently. His family . . . his family paid. And the Paradens sent him back, whole and healthy of body, but mind-wiped. They made me watch."

  Sassinak drew in a shaky breath to speak, but Fleur shook her head.

  "Let me finish, all at once. My family thought they had proof of the Paraden connection. They tried to bring them to justice in the courts. In the end, my family lost everything, in court costs and countersuit damages. My father died, of a stroke; my mother's heart failed; my brothers . . . well, one went to prison for a 'vicious unprincipled assault' on the judge the Paradens had bribed so well. The other they had killed, just for insurance. And they sold me to a planet where none of my family had ever traded."

  Sassinak's eyes burned with tears for the young woman Fleur had been. Before she realized it, she'd moved over to grip her hands.

  "Abe saved me," Fleur went on. "He came, like any other young man, but he saw . . . something. I don't know. He used to kid me that whatever training my governess had given me couldn't be hidden. So he asked questions, and I was wild enough to answer, for I'd just heard of my sister-in-law's death. The Paradens took care to keep me informed. And he swore he would get me out, somehow. In less than a year, he had saved out my purchase price. How, on his salary, I'll never know. He wanted to marry me but I knew Fleet was strict about identity checks. I was terrified that the Paradens would find me again. So he helped me set up my first dress shop, and from there . . ."

  She waved her arm, and Sassinak thought of the years of grinding work it must have taken, to go from that first tiny shop to the fashionable designer.

  "Eventually I designed for the best families, including of course the Paradens. None of my friends recognized me. I had gray hair, I looked older, and of course I took care to look like a dressmaker, not a customer.

  "Abe and I stayed in contact, when we could. He was sure there had to be a way to bring the crime home to the Paradens, and started digging. That was really the beginning of Samizdat. I knew a few people. I helped those I could. Passed him information, when it came to me, and he passed some back. We built up a network, on one planet after another. Then he was taken, and I thought . . . I thought I'd never survive his loss. So I swore that if he came back alive, I'd marry him, if he still wanted me."

  She patted Sassinak's hands gently.

  "And that's where you came in. When he came back, he had you: an orphan, in shock from all that had happened. I heard through our nets that he was back. I came to Regg to talk to him. And he explained that until you were on your way, he dared not risk your future with any more disruption."

  "But I wouldn't have minded," Sassinak said. "How could he think I would?"

  "I'm not sure, but we decided to wait, on marriag
e, that is, until after your graduation. And that, dear Sassinak, is what he wanted to tell you that night. I don't know whether you noticed anything . . ."

  "I did! So—so you were his big secret."

  "You sound almost disappointed."

  "I'm not . . . but it hadn't occurred to me. I thought perhaps he'd found out more about the planet pirates."

  "He might have. But he'd decided to tell you about me on graduation night. If all had gone well, he'd have brought you to the hotel where I was staying. We'd have met, and you'd have been the witness at our wedding before you went off on your first cruise."

  Lake light pouring into a darkened house as shutter after shutter came off the windows, she had wondered so long, so darkly, about the secret of that night.

  "Did you come to his funeral? I don't remember any civilians at all."

  Fleur's head drooped; Sassinak could not see her face.

  "I was frightened again. I thought it was the Paradens, that they'd found me, and killed Abe because of me. You didn't need that and you didn't know about me, you wouldn't even have known why I was there. So I left. You can call it cowardice, if you like. I kept track of your career, but I never could find the right time to try telling you . . ."

  Sassinak threw her arms around the older woman and hugged her as she cried.

  "It's all right," she vowed. "I'll get the job done this time."

  She could hear the steely edge in her voice herself. Fleur pulled away.

  "Sass! You must not let it fill you with bitterness."

  "But he deserved to get you!" Now she had tears in her eyes, too. "Abe deserved some pleasure. He worked so hard to save me . . . and you, and others, and then they killed him just when . . ."

  She had not cried for Abe since her few tears the night of his death. She had been the contained, controlled officer he would have wanted her to be. Now that old loss stabbed her again. Through her sobs she heard Fleur talking.

  "If you turn bitter, you've let them win. Whether you kill them or not, that's not the main thing. The main thing is to live as yourself; the self you can respect. Abe would not let me despair, the other kind of defeat, but he told me he worried that you might stay bitter."

  "But they killed him. And my parents, and your family, and all the others . . ."

  Fleur sighed. "Sassinak, I'm nearly forty years older than you, and I know that sort of comment makes prickles go up your spine." Sassinak had to chuckle. Fleur was so right. "And I know you don't want to hear that another forty years of experience means additional understanding. But!" Her beautifully manicured finger leveled at Sassinak's eyes. "Did Abe know more than you in the slave depot?"

  "Of course. I was just a child."

  "And if he were alive now, would you still respect his greater age and experience?"

  "Well . . ." She could see it coming, but she didn't have to like it. Her expression must have shown that, because Fleur laughed aloud, a silvery bell-like peal that brought an answering laugh from Sassinak.

  "So please trust me now," Fleur said, once more serious. "You have become what Abe dreamed of. I have kept an eye on you in the media; I know. But the higher you go in Fleet, the more you will need unclouded judgment. If you allow the bitterness, the unfairness, of your childhood and Abe's death, to overwhelm your natural warmth, you will become unfair in your own way. You must be more than a pirate chaser, more than vengeance personified. Fleet tends to shape its members toward narrow interests, rigid reactions, even in the best. Haven't you found that some of your difficulties down here arise from that?"

  Put that way, some of them certainly had. She had developed the typical spacefarer's distaste for planets. She had not bothered to cultivate the skills needed to enjoy them. The various gangs in the tunnels seemed alien, even as she tried to mold them into a working unit.

  "Abe used to say to me," Fleur said, now patting at her hair, "that growth and development can't stop for stars, rank or travel. You keep growing and keep Abe's memory green. Don't let the Paradens shape the rest of your life, as they shaped the first of it."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Now tell me, what do you plan to do with all this scruffy crowd?"

  Sassinak grinned at her, half-rueful and half-determined.

  "Chase pirates, ma'am, and then worry about whether I've gotten too rigid."

  But when it came down to it, none of them actually knew where the Parchandri was located in a physical sense. Sassinak frowned.

  "We ought to be able to get that from the data systems, with the right codes," she said. "You said you had people good at that."

  "But we don't have any of the current codes. The only times we've tried to tap into the secure datalines, anything but the public ones, they've sent police after us. They can tell where our tap is, an' everything."

  "Sassinak?" Aygar tapped her shoulder, She started to brush him aside, but remembered his previous good surprises. "Yes?"

  "My friend, that student . . ."

  "The one who boasted to you he could skip through the datalinks without getting caught? Yes. But he's not here and how would we find him?"

  "I have his callcode. From any public comsite, he said."

  "But there aren't any—are there? Down here?"

  She glanced at the ragged group. Some of them nodded, and Coris answered her.

  "Yes, up in the public tunnels. There's a few we might get to, without being spotted. Not all of us, of course."

  "There's that illegal one in the 248 vertical," someone else said. "This maintenance worker put it in, patched it to the regular public lines so he could call in bets during his shift. We used to listen to him."

  "Where's the 248 vertical?" Sassinak asked.

  Not that far away, although it took several hours of careful zigging about to get to it. Twice they saw hunting patrols, one in the blue-gray of the city police, and one in the Pollys' orange. Their careless-sweep of the tunnels did not impress Sassinak. They seemed to be content to walk through, without investigating all hatches and side tunnels. When she mentioned this to Coris, he hunched his shoulders.

  "Bet they're planning to gas the system. Now they're looking for easy prey, girls down on their luck, kids . . . something to have fun with."

  "Gas! You mean poison gas? Or knockout gas?"

  "They've used both, before. 'Bout three years ago, they must've killed a thousand or more, over toward the shuttle station area. I was clear out here, and all it did to us was make us heave everything for a day or so. But I heard there'd been street crime, subways hijacked, that kind of thing."

  Sassinak fingered the small kit in her pocket. She had brought along the detox membrane and primer that Fleet used against riot control gas, but would it work against everything? She didn't want to find out by using it, and she had only the one. She put that thought away and briefed Aygar on what to tell, and what not to tell, his student friend. If only she'd had a chance to evaluate that friend for herself. No telling whose agent he was, unless he was just a student playing pretend spy games. If so, he'd soon find out how exciting the real ones could be.

  Two of the group went through the hatch into 248 vertical ahead of Aygar, and then called him through. This shaft, they'd explained, had enough regular traffic to keep the group out of it, except on special occasions.

  Sassinak waited, wishing she could make the call. Aygar was only a boy, really, from a backwoods world: he knew nothing about intrigue. It would be like him to call up this "friend" and blurt out everything on an unsecured line. She kept herself from fidgeting with difficulty. She must not increase their nervousness. How many hours had slipped by? Would Arly be worried yet? Would anyone?

  Aygar bounded back through the hatch, his youthful strength and health a vivid contrast to the underworlders" air of desperation.

  "He wants to meet me," Aygar said. "He says the students would like to help."

  "Help? Help what?"

  Sassinak knew nothing of civilian students, except what the media reported. It was c
lear they weren't anything like cadets.

  "Help with the coup," Aygar said as if that should explain it. "End the tyranny of greed and power, he says."

  "We aren't starting a coup," Sassinak said, then thought about it.

  While in one sense she didn't think she was overthrowing a government, the government had certainly sent riot squads after her, as if she were. Did they think she was working with a bunch of renegade students? Did someone else have a coup planned . . . and had they stumbled into it, and was that . . . ?

  Her brain seemed to explode, as intuition and logic both flared. Aygar was giving her a puzzled look, as she went on, more quietly.

  "At least, not the one he's thinking about. Exactly. Now, what kind of help can he give us? Can he find the Parchandri?"

  "He just said to meet him. And where." Aygar was looking stubborn again; he could not foil to realize that he was being used, and no one liked that.

  "In public territory. Great. And you're about as easy to disguise as a torn uniform at inspection."

  "Fleur's the one who taught us all about disguises," Coris said. "Although, it won't be easy with that one."

  Sassinak felt almost too tired to think, but she had to. She pulled herself together and said, "We'll go ask her. We certainly can't stroll out looking like this. And we'll get some rest before we go anywhere, because I notice that Aygar looks almost as exhausted as I feel. In the meantime, Coris, if you have any maps of the underground areas, I'd like to see them."

  She hoped that would give them all the idea that she had a specific plan in mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  FSP heavy cruiser Zaid-Dayan

  "I do not like this." Arly tapped her fingers on the edge of the command console. One of its screens displayed the local news channel. "How could, anyone think Sassinak would murder an admiral?"