Mamelukes

by Jerry Pournelle

  “And Cargill?”

  “I’m not sure why Cargill was going home. I never served with him before. Nothing bad in his record that I know of.”

  “I see. Excuse me a moment.” Rick turned away from Baker and raised his left hand to wave, lowered it, then raised it again. “Just letting Major Mason know all’s well,” Rick said. “What do we do now?”

  “That’s rather up to you,” Baker said.

  “Up to me.”

  “Yes, I think so. After a lot of thought, I’ve decided that I would rather work with you than against you, Colonel Galloway.”

  “Under what conditions?” Rick asked.

  “Yes, that is rather the question, isn’t it? How far can we trust each other? I’ve been asking myself that since we got to this Godforsaken place.” He paused, frowned slightly in thought, and tried to smile. “You have rather a good reputation, you know. Formidable but fair. Honest, keep your word, loyal to your employer. Even the—” Baker broke off and changed to an even thicker northern Tran dialect. “Honorable Matthias agrees.”

  Baker waved expansively. “Of course our meeting like this is somewhat outside of that,” he said in English.

  “So we can work together,” Rick said. “Of course there’s the question of the product you’re supposed to take away from me. Your Galactic employers are unlikely to be satisfied with what you can grow, and if I give you much, my own will be unhappy.”

  Baker hesitated.

  “Colonel, can we work together? Will you accept me and my men into your service?”

  “What about the Honorable Matthias?”

  “He’ll have to be told. I have enough shards of honor left that I can’t be part of some treacherous plot. I won’t turn my coat in the middle of a battle.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

  “It probably wouldn’t work anyway,” Baker said. “The Honorable Matthias doesn’t much trust me to begin with. When he hears I’ve been meeting with you he’ll believe we’re plotting against him.”

  “There’s that. Do you have any other conditions?”

  “Only that all of us be treated the same as your other men, Colonel.”

  “I can agree to that, but with limits. I have fewer troops than you, but we’ve been here longer. All my men have a status. Not quite noble, but nearly so. All of us are ‘star lords,’ but some of us are actual lords in our own right. You and your officers and the senior NCO’s won’t be a problem, but I can’t guarantee noble status for every one of your troopers. I’ll do what I can, but no guarantees.”

  “That’s all right. Gurkhas are used to being treated a bit differently from white troops. Most of them are amused by it, so long as things are fundamentally fair.”

  “Fair I can promise. Reasonably fair. But there’s still the problem of what we give your Galactic employers. I don’t think we’ll have enough madweed harvested to satisfy my own Shalnuksis, let alone supply yours.”

  Baker regarded Rick carefully for a long moment.

  “All right. In for a penny—Colonel Galloway, my employers probably won’t be coming. Officially we’re here on our own.”

  “And why is this?”

  “Inspector Agzaral ruled against the—he called them the Gadnatwen Trader faction—who’d hired me. He was telling them they had no claims on this planet or its products, and they were liable to heavy fines and penalties for kidnapping us, and if they sent unauthorized expeditions to Tran they would be in gross violation of the trade regulations.” Baker shrugged. “At least that’s what he told me he was telling them. They were certainly livid about it.”

  “So how did you get here?”

  “He made a deal with them. They’d created this problem, Earth humans who could never go home, and they had to contribute to its solution. They’d pay a fine and he wouldn’t report them to the Trade Commission. Part of their fine was to transport us and the gear they’d already kitted us up with here, regardless of the convenience or the cost. That was when he told me to use my judgment, but probably my best bet was to trust you. He never explained it in so many words, but I understood all this to mean that neither my kidnapping nor my transport to Tran would ever appear on an official report.”

  Rick nodded understanding, but he felt bewildered. So now what is Agzaral up to? But I don’t dare ask, not yet anyway. How would he know that the—Gadnatwen faction—would deliver Baker and his troops safely? Did he care? But he must have cared enough to organize this. He must be planning another visit by someone he trusts. Les? That would be useful. Gwen can wheedle some information out of Les. Maybe. I think Agzaral trusts Les.

  “So they brought you here.”

  “Yes. Just before we landed, one of the aliens attempted to persuade me to serve them,” Major Baker continued. “To keep the mission they’d given us, to defeat you and take over your crops, take your place here. He promised rewards and more equipment—Agzaral caught them before they’d finished fitting us up—and hinted that if I killed you and took over he’d be able to take us all back home.” Baker cleared his throat. “Load of codswallop, of course. Agzaral was very clear on the matter. Even if Agzaral dropped dead, there was no way home, because that was a policy of the High Council. No groups of wild Earthlings go back, because if we ever got back to Earth there’d be no way to keep it all quiet, and with this many someone would believe us. I pretended to go along with the aliens because I didn’t see any choice in the matter.”

  “How will you communicate with them?”

  Baker took a familiar-looking device from his belt pack.

  “This apparently works forever. They told me not to worry about power.”

  Rick nodded.

  “We’ve got one of those ourselves.” Best to keep knowledge of Gwen’s personal communicator to myself for now, besides the sets can’t seem to communicate with each other, only to starships. “It’s always worked and it never needed recharging. So you expect your Shalnuksi hosts to return?”

  “No, Sir, I don’t,” Baker said. “Inspector Agzaral told me there might be strange offers, but that the Confederation had ways of knowing what ships visit this planet. Of course he could tell me anything he wanted, just as they could, but I rather believed he has that power.”

  “How did you hook up with the Five Kingdoms?”

  “That’s where they dropped us. They claimed they were teaching us the only language they had available, so they were sending us where that language was spoken.” Baker frowned. His tone changed. “You can understand this, can’t you?”

  “Not very well. They taught you a fairly thick northern dialect,” Rick answered in the speech common within the Five Kingdoms, then snorted. “Must have amused them no end to hand you over to the locals out for my scalp already! It’ll just have to do for now. You’ll pick up the southern dialects quick enough. So you made a deal with the Five Kingdoms.”

  “Sort of. They didn’t know what to do with us, until this chap in wolfskins showed up. It was Matthias. He didn’t appear to be overly surprised to see us. He was enthusiastic about hiring us to go after you. Since I didn’t have any other way to find you, we took the job. If you were anywhere near as competent as your reputation makes you, I expected it wouldn’t be long before you came up with a way to communicate with me. Wasn’t easy avoiding direct confrontation with you and still being useful enough that we had employment if I couldn’t negotiate something with you. Last thing I wanted was a blood feud.”

  “You did a good job there. All right, what’s next? You have to go back to your camp to get your gear—”

  “No, Sir. Everything we brought from Earth is with us. The only things we left in camp are replaceable local items. We’re ready to come over anytime you say. Now, preferably.”

  Rick frowned.

  “Major, I very much want to believe you, but are you asking me to allow your unit, fully armed, to close with mine?”

  Baker laughed.

  “Colonel, you have a nasty, suspicious mind.”r />
  “The situation calls for a bit of healthy paranoia,” Rick said.

  “On my part, too,” Baker said. “Surely you don’t expect me to disarm my men? I have more reason to trust you than you have to trust me, but even so—”

  “An interesting impasse,” Rick said. “Have you any suggestions?”

  “None immediately. Given your locals, you do outnumber us.”

  Not by as much as you think.

  “All right. For today we’ll march in separate columns and make camp independently.” Rick took out a map. “We’re here. How soon can you reach this crossroad? It’s about ten kilometers.”

  “Three hours. Another hour to set up camp.” Baker studied the sky. “Still an hour of daylight when we’ve done all that.”

  “Good. Do that. When you get there, I’ll have guides to show you where to camp. What about messing the troops? Any special requirements?”

  “We don’t eat beef or pork, and not all that much meat of any kind.”

  “That just the men, or officers too?”

  “I enjoy roast beef and ham, but I won’t eat them when the troops are present. Neither will the other officers, but that’s just courtesy. Gurkhas know British troops will eat anything. They joke about it.”

  “Local cereals all right?”

  “Indeed. Colonel, I’m not worried about your men, but what of Wanax Ganton’s troops? Won’t they attack us on sight?”

  “Or run away,” Rick said. “Wanax Ganton finds a different temporary camp every day. It will be within a few kilometers of my camp, and he’ll probably have scouts mingling with my forces, but I don’t anticipate any problems. Just to be sure, I’ll have Captain Lord Arwel join you en route. He’ll be carrying my banner.” Rick indicated the devices on his tabard. “He’ll have a dozen scouts with him. They’ll ride ahead, he’ll ride with you. You shouldn’t encounter any royal forces to begin with, but if you do, I expect that banner carried by a Drantos baron ought to be enough.

  “I’ll also send ahead to have the evening meal ready for you. Major, you and your officers are invited to dine with me at dusk this evening in the star officers’ mess. The fare will probably include stew, and God only knows what kind of meat went into it, but it will be hot. I’ll have an officer come to escort you. Meanwhile, I’ll send Arwel and some mounted archers as guides. And I have your radio if you need to call me.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Sir.”

  “And what will you do when Matthias sends messengers asking where the hell you think you are going?”

  “Sir, I will reply that it is no longer his business and send them back to him,” Baker said. “And warn him not to follow us, at his peril. I rather think that will be notice enough.”

  “Right. Major, you mentioned some more resources Agzaral is sending to this planet.”

  “I did, Colonel.” He looked up at the True Sun. “But it’s a somewhat . . . lengthy story, and I have more guesses than fact. If I’m to be at your dinner by dusk, I want a bit of time in hand to be sure I’m not late. By your leave, Sir?”

  Rick nodded.

  “You can tell me tonight at dinner. Godspeed, Major.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALLIANCES

  “Ten-hut!”

  Everyone stood as Rick came into the room. It had been the main hall of a reasonably successful farmer, and was too small for the formal harvest-style dining table; but then the table was large for the number of people standing in their places. Rick went to the head of the table, stood a moment, and sat.

  “Please be seated,” he said.

  There were murmurs of thanks, but no one spoke as Rick looked down the polished length of the table. Opposite him on the far end was Major Baker. On the side to Baker’s right, Lieutenant Richard Martins sat next to Baker, with Lieutenant Henry Cargill to Martins’ right. Senior Warrant Officer Larry Warner sat to Rick’s immediate right, then an empty seat reserved for Murphy, then Major Art Mason. Sergeant Bisso stood at the door to supervise the dinner crew, all members of Rick’s household guards.

  Everyone at the table was armed. Outside, an escort of Gurkha troops was being served freshly baked bread and lentils by young ladies of the Silver Wolf tribe. Rick’s guards and a few elders of the tribe watched from close nearby. The main Gurkha encampment was in the far corner of the compound housing Rick’s star forces and some of the Tamaerthan and Chelm troops. And so far, so good, Rick thought. But there was an air of tension in Rick’s dining room that no amount of smiles and military courtesy could dispel.

  Rick looked up to catch Sergeant Bisso’s eye and nodded satisfaction. The old farmhouse would never look like a military headquarters, but Bisso had found a few touches. The wattle and daub walls had been cleaned and Bisso had managed to find a few tapestries to cover some of the larger areas. They didn’t all match, but there was a glass for each person at the table, and the often-mended tablecloth had been freshly washed. No splendor, but no squalor either.

  Rick stood.

  “As all of you know by now, Major Baker and I met in parley this afternoon. His detachment of Gurkhas was kidnapped along with his officers in circumstances a bit different in detail from ours, but the effect was the same. They were taken to Earth’s Moon where they were offered a choice of service with the Shalnuksis or detention as paupers. Major Baker chose to come here. What choices were you given, Major?”

  Rick sat. Baker stood for a moment, then said, “We’re all tired. Shall we do this seated?”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Rick said.

  “Thank you, Colonel.” Baker sat with an expression of relief. “In answer to your question, Inspector Agzaral said that we were to join with you and assist in completing your mission if I deemed that possible. Otherwise we were to act at discretion. His manner was ambiguous, but I thought it clear that he preferred that we join up and assist you. When that proved impossible upon our arrival, I acted in a manner that would not exclude that possibility and awaited developments.” He flashed a half grin to everyone at the table. “Needless to say, I was greatly relieved when I discovered you are still alive and willing to talk with us.”

  Rick nodded.

  “And you’re here as our guests and potential allies.”

  “Indeed, Colonel.”

  “Major Baker, I present my officers,” Rick said. “All of you, we tend to informality in the mess. Speak freely if you have questions. Major Mason is my second-in-command. No need to get up, Art. And this is Chief Warrant Officer Warner, who serves as intelligence officer among other duties.”

  “How do you do, Sir?” Warner said.

  “Mr. Warner is also Provost of the University,” Rick said. “In fact that’s his primary mission, but that got interrupted by the latest wars. I expect he’ll be glad to get back there.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Warner said with enthusiasm.

  “You’ve established a university? You’re teaching modern, uh, technology to the locals?” Lieutenant Cargill asked. “Sir?”

  Rick nodded.

  “We are. We rotate officers and specialists to temporary duty as teachers. The Rector is Gwen Tremaine. From Santa Barbara, California. Lady Gwen has some rather special connections with the human Galactic agents. For example, one is father of her oldest child.”

  There was a moment of silence as the newcomers digested this.

  “That must be quite a story,” Major Baker said.

  “It is. I’ll ask her to tell it to you when you meet. Major Baker, I presume you had no difficulties en route?”

  “None, Colonel. Your Captain Lord Arwel met me shortly after we began our march. I confess we had a bit of a language problem, but I think I’m getting the hang of your dialect.” Baker looked amused. “As you surmised, Colonel, riders from the Honorable Matthias caught up with us an hour after we began marching southwards. As we’d agreed, I told them my units were no longer in his service, and I would regard any attempt to follow us as a hostile act.”

  “So did anyone follow?”
Warner asked. “Sir.”

  “Well, yes, Mr. Warner, several of them tried,” Baker said. “But we shot their horses out from under them, and that rather discouraged them. Following my lads is never a very good idea. It took a bit to convince my former employers, but they gave up after a while. Fortunately, we didn’t have to kill anyone to persuade them.”

  “So the Fivers know you’ve changed sides?” Art Mason said.

  “I rather expect so, Major.”

  “That should discourage them from attacking Wanax Ganton’s force,” Warner said. “Maybe they’ll even turn and run.”

  “Wouldn’t count on it,” Mason said. “But I reckon it’s definitely taken some of the wind out of their sails.”

  Rick nodded agreement.

  “I’ve got scouts out just to be sure, but we should be safe enough while they digest the new situation.”

  Sergeant Bisso came in from the kitchen.

  “Colonel, shall we begin serving?”

  “Yes, thank you, Sergeant.” Rick turned to his guests. “I have very limited fare, but there’s a good bottle of Hunter’s Sherry I brought along in case there was a special occasion. I’d say this qualifies. Sergeant?”

  “Sir.” Bisso brought in a bottle with a bright yellow label and stood back as the stewards poured, then left the room. When the glasses were filled, Rick looked to Larry Warner.

  “Mr. Vice?”

  Warner stood. “To new friends.”

  There were mutters of approval.

  “My, that is very good sherry,” Lieutenant Martins said. His voice sounded strained. “Very good indeed.”

  “Something troubling you, Leftenant?” Major Baker asked.