Mamelukes

by Jerry Pournelle

  “We have long been friends and allies,” Torricelli said a bit stiffly, and Rick caught Warner’s broad wink from behind the Nikeisian’s back.

  “We have had visits from members of the previous Imperial family,” Torricelli continued. “Once a nephew to Flaminius the Scholar. But none so high as the heir, and only ambassadors since Flaminius Caesar was overthrown.”

  Rick noted the distaste in Torricelli’s tone. Rebellion was not revered in Nikeis.

  * * *

  Rick watched from the tower until the fleet had formed a single file with more than a hundred feet between ships. Two of the smaller triremes led, then the quinquireme flagship, then the navibus onerārius. The rest of the fleet came behind. Rick watched for a moment, but there was nothing to see, and certainly nothing he could do from here if anything went wrong. It would take time to bring the entire fleet into the inner harbor and make fast, so he checked the standby status of his radio receiver, then turned impatiently to Torricelli.

  “That’s underway, Councilor. Now if you please, I would like to meet your other guests. The star people.”

  “Of course.” Torricelli led the way down the narrow stairs to the Palace, then across the broad Palazzo. The crowd in the Palazzo cleared a path for Rick and the Councilors without being told. They watched attentively as their chiefs went past, and then spoke among themselves. No one bowed. Very polite, Rick thought. Not subservient, perhaps not obedient, but polite. They crossed the Palazzo to a five-story palace with ornate bronze doors. Liveried servants swung the doors open as they approached.

  “Welcome to my place, Skipper,” Clavell said, leading the way in. “We got Mr. Saxon holed up in here. And something you’ll want to see. Come in, come in.”

  “Palatial, Sergeant,” Rick said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Clavell led them from the reception hall to another and larger room.

  The palace’s great hall was large, ornate, and dominated by the big shipping container. A man stood next to the container. He was dressed in dark slacks and a fine-weave blue cotton shirt, all very much Earthlike, as were his spectacles and wristwatch. Early to midthirties, Rick decided. And he looks like a high school teacher.

  The other man examined Rick coolly.

  Doesn’t seem nervous, Rick thought. I would be. Make that I am, actually. Just what’s he doing here? But first, what does he think he’s doing here, which may not be quite the same thing.

  “I’m Bart Saxon,” the man said. “You’ll be Captain Galloway. Colonel Galloway, I guess it is now.”

  They shook hands.

  “I was sent here to find you,” Saxon continued.

  Well, that answers one question, Rick thought.

  “Sent?”

  “By Inspector Agzaral. My mission is to help you grow more crops. A lot more.”

  Rick nodded and drew Saxon aside so that they were alone.

  “The inspector assigned you that mission?”

  “Yes.”

  “And all this?” Rick indicated the cargo container.

  “Technology training aids,” Saxon said. “Books and information, mostly. There are three of these containers.”

  “That’s more equipment than everything else they’ve sent me since I’ve been here combined. All three containers have the same cargoes?”

  “Not identical.” Saxon shook his head. “But it’s all related to the mission. There are two bicycle-driven generators in this one. The other two have a diesel generator and a windmill, respectively. But all three have at least a hand generator and some laptop computers, and most of the basic CD-ROMs.”

  He acts as if I know what he’s talking about, Rick thought.

  “What are CD-ROMs? I gather laptop computers are desktop computers made portable, but I don’t recall CD-ROMs.”

  Saxon gave him a wry look.

  “Sorry. There’ve been developments in computers and computer science since your departure—”

  Rick nodded.

  “—and they’ve probably been more rapid than you think. Certainly faster than I expected. Computers are smaller and faster, and CD-ROMs are a means of storing data on a computer disk”—he held his hands to indicate a circle about five inches in diameter—“that can store many volumes of text. The entire Encyclopaedia Britannica is on disks in a box no larger than a shoebox. Colonel, I have the equivalent of a technical library for any major university on those disks.”

  “Which can only be read by the computers. How many of those do you have?”

  “Dozens.”

  “And you have all the basic books and equipment for teaching science and technology up to university level?”

  “I hope so. Colonel, I was a high school science teacher. They gave me two weeks to get everything I was going to take with me to a place they said was primitive and a long way away. I got everything I could think of that was available in San Jose, and it’s easily enough to get a good start on college physics and chemistry. I have reference works for everything else. Some shop equipment. You give me some bright kids and a couple of years of peace and quiet, we’ll see what happens.”

  “Weapons? Ammunition?”

  “Not much. Personal arms and a few boxes of ammunition.”

  “Enough to win a fight but not a battle.”

  “Close to the way Inspector Agzaral put it. Wouldn’t be a very big fight, either. I’m not here to fight. Inspector Agzaral made that clear.”

  “Agzaral again. And you were recruited for this? Tricked into coming off-planet?”

  Saxon chuckled and blushed slightly.

  “I wasn’t hard to trick, Colonel. It wasn’t like I was doing anything important to be tricked out of. But, yes, they told me I’d be teaching bright but educationally backward kids. I guessed Africa, or possibly somewhere in South Asia. So did Cal. Neither of us had a clue about going off Earth—I wouldn’t have believed them if they’d told me that’s what they wanted! Until I saw the craft they wanted me to get into, anyway. And after I saw the ship, it was too late to turn back.”

  “You said you weren’t doing anything important. Were you in danger? Threatened by anyone?”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was living on the streets, Colonel. It’s a long story as to why. I was as down and out as anyone could be, but no, I wasn’t in any acute danger. More like chronic—I couldn’t have gone on that way a lot longer. I was finished, with nowhere to go, and no use to anyone. Then I was recruited to go to a faraway place to teach influential kids, and that’s what I signed up for. I jumped at the chance. It was pretty clear I’d be away a good while, but I thought I was coming back.”

  Rick nodded. What the hell is this? I thought I had Agzaral’s rules figured out; they couldn’t abduct people who weren’t already in mortal danger. That’s clearly not true. Wasn’t true for Gwen, either, or the Gurkhas, come to that. What else don’t I know? I need to talk this over with Gwen. Maybe she has a clue. No one else will. But we’ve got more immediate problems here.

  “And what’s your status with Nikeis?”

  “We’re debtors,” Saxon said.

  “How’s that?”

  “Meals, lodging, transportation from the mainland. We owe for all that. They advanced us the costs, and now we owe them a lot of money. I should have more than enough in gold coins to pay that off, but nobody’s given me a final bill, so I can’t be certain. And I don’t know exactly what my Krugerrands are worth. This is a very commercial society, Colonel.”

  “So I gathered. If it comes to more than you have, I can come up with it. But no one disputes your ownership of the containers?”

  “Not sure,” Saxon said. “No one has so far, anyway. Maybe none of the Signory do. Not so sure about Spirit. Spirit—that’s what we call Ms. Lorrain Sandori. SFPD officer. She’s supposed to be an assistant, like Cal, but since we got here, she hasn’t been acting like a subordinate. More like a partner.”

  “And she has control of one of the containers?” Rick asked.

  “Two, a
ctually. One’s in Senator Avanti’s palazzo. She lives there. The other’s in the Arsenale, guarded by Avanti’s troops, and I don’t even know how to find the Arsenale, much less get anything out of it.”

  “Does she think she owns them?” Rick asked in a lowered voice, and Saxon gestured helplessly.

  “She’s sure got possession. I don’t know what she thinks, Colonel. I don’t know what she wants, either. I doubt she does. I have the keys. Not that that will keep anyone out if they don’t mind showing they bashed their way in.”

  “I heard hints of a romantic involvement with Senator Avanti. True?”

  “It looks that way.” Saxon shrugged. “She’s staying at his palazzo, and I’m told her bedroom adjoins his. Colonel, I never knew her until after we were recruited, I never got close to her, and she hasn’t told me very much since we arrived here. I have no idea what she thinks she’s doing, but she’s well aware that Inspector Agzaral expects us to assist you in increasing your crop yields. I heard him tell her that.”

  “Why do I get the impression that there’s more to this story than you’re telling me?” Rick asked, and Saxon frowned.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because, Mr. Saxon, Inspector Agzaral is the most devious man I ever met, but he’s certainly no fool. If the purpose of sending you here is to increase the crop harvest, this isn’t the way to do it, and he has to know that.”

  “Colonel Galloway—”

  “We don’t have time for this discussion now, Mr. Saxon, but you’re not likely to have much effect on fundamental technology here in less than a decade.”

  “Fertilizer, cultivation—”

  “Sure, although you might be surprised at how much they already know here. And I’ve had some success with iron plows. But really, all the immediate effect you’ll have could have been gotten by sending me a couple of good books on agricultural techniques. You certainly don’t have to teach college physics!”

  Rick’s voice had risen high enough to attract the attention of Warner and Rick’s other companions. They looked at him quizzically.

  “Stand easy,” Rick told them, and lowered his voice, trying to look normal. “Mr. Saxon, just what is your real mission here?”

  “Just what I said. To assist you. And to teach basic chemistry and physics.”

  “Of the two, which is more important?” Rick pressed, and Saxon frowned.

  “I never thought about that,” he said, and Rick nodded.

  No point in pushing it, he decided. The answer’s obvious, anyway. They brought the wrong equipment for the education mission to be secondary.

  “And Agzaral had no direct message for me?”

  “None he told me about. Colonel, he wasn’t sure you’d still be operational. The last report he got was that you weren’t doing so well, but he had hopes. He said something about your acquiring some additional resources through a mistake. He didn’t tell me how that would happen, but I got the impression it was something he lucked into.”

  “I see.” That would be the Gurkhas. Maybe. “And he wasn’t unhappy about that? About my getting additional resources?”

  “Just the opposite. He seemed pleased. So did his cohort. Cohort, assistant, colleague—they never told me his status. The human not born on Earth who recruited me.”

  “His name wasn’t Les, was it?”

  “Not that I know. I heard of a human named Les. A pilot. But I never met him.”

  “Tell me about this ‘cohort.’”

  “Nothing to tell. Educated, posed as a professor without any problem. Called himself Doctor Lee. Looked to be of Eurasian ancestry. Nothing special.”

  “And he recruited you to teach technology?”

  “That was while he was pretending to be CIA and that that was the only mission, but yes.”

  “And after you found out that was bunk?”

  “My exact orders were to find out how you were doing, and help you if you were at all successful,” Saxon said. “All three of us were given that instruction. We’re supposed to aid you in growing crops for the Shalnuksis. To help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yes, Sir. Help you increase your crop yields. He was very specific about that. The whole point of my coming here was to increase crop yields.”

  “And if you got here and found out I was dead, or a failure?”

  “Nothing specific. Colonel, it’s a little odd. He stressed that he didn’t know how you were doing, but I was never given much instruction on what to do if you were failing. Just help you and help increase crop yields.”

  Odd? Damn right it’s “odd”! There’s a message in there, if I could figure it out, Rick thought. Or I think there is.

  “But to institute the science classes, as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” My ass I see. There’s something you aren’t telling me, even though it’s damned obvious. “You weren’t cautioned against spreading technology to the locals? No restrictions?”

  “None they told me about.”

  “Renaissance,” Rick said. “Renaissance, Enlightenment, Reformation and Counter-Reformation, Industrial Revolution. All rolled into one package, and you’re that package. You do understand that?”

  He looked into Saxon’s eyes, and the other man nodded slowly.

  “Maybe I hadn’t thought it through quite that far, but, yes. Of course you’re right.”

  “So we’re going to boil the pot,” Rick said. “Any suggestions on how to keep the lid on?”

  “I—”

  They were interrupted as someone knocked loudly at the door. Two men in the Torricelli livery rushed in spouting excited Italian. They spoke far too rapidly for Rick to understand, but then Torricelli turned to him and spoke in the mainland polyglot.

  “The pirate fleet has been sighted. Over one hundred ships, all apparently fully manned. They were gathering in a harbor two days to the northwest. They may already be underway.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  BATTLE PLANS

  “Ten-hut!” Master Sergeant Bisso said crisply. He wore new stripes, sewn by a local seamstress. Rick had decided some promotions were in order to make his command structure a little clearer.

  Rick strode into the meeting room, formerly the great hall of the shoreside palace overlooking the berthing area of his fleet. The Roman high command had been invited to the Doge’s Palace, to receive a welcome suitable for the Heir of Caesar.

  And we’re here on San Giorgio Island, Rick thought. Could take that as a snub, if I really wanted to, but what the hell. The opportunity’s too good to miss.

  He glanced out a window as he headed for the long table at one end of the big room. Unlike the main island, San Giorgio had little high ground. When the sea rose, the island’s highest point would be no more than a few feet above water level. All of the buildings on it were made of stone, though, and looked as if they might be stable even when their foundations and lower floors were underwater.

  If the ocean doesn’t rise higher than the indicated high-water marks, this will still be a city, with canals rather than streets.

  “As you were,” he said as he reached his waiting chair at the table and sat. He looked around the room as other people took their seats. Nobody here but us star lords. Wait, someone’s missing . . .

  “Where’s Ms. Spirit?” he demanded.

  “She was invited, Colonel,” Warner said.

  “How?”

  Warner nodded to Harrison, who stood.

  “Colonel, me and Cal Haskins went over to the palazzo she’s staying in. I took the paper myself, and I put it in her hands myself. She was very nice about it. She said Senator Avanti would see that she got here safely and offered us lunch.”

  Rick turned to Haskins.

  “She say anything to you?” he asked.

  “Not one blessed thing, Colonel,” the Black man said.

  Have to think about that later, Rick told himself, then turned to Major Mason.

  “Glad to see you
all made it in safely. Any problems?”

  “None, Colonel,” Art Mason said. “Other than that I smell some panic. Nikeisian types running around saying the pirates are coming, maybe in hours.”

  “Don’t doubt it,” Rick said. “And I’m sure some of our own people wonder why we’re sitting around in a meeting instead of running around ourselves. Well, we’re in a meeting because I want to be sure while the Romans are busy that we all understand the situation. We have a few hours to plan. If you want to know something or you have anything to offer, speak up! I don’t want the Romans to doubt that we know what we’re doing when the time comes to lay out our official plan. Even if we know better.”

  There was subdued laughter.

  “When does the balloon go up?” Mason asked.

  “The pirates are certainly coming, maybe outside the harbor entrance by dawn,” Rick said, “but they won’t be inside before morning. I’d guess noon tomorrow, assuming they’re smart enough to want to hit us at high water. We plan for that, anyway.

  “So.” He turned his attention to the entire group. “We don’t have long before we have to start meeting with the Romans and the Nikeisian fleet people, and I think we’ll be better off if we get our story straight before we bring in outsiders.”

  “Considering how little we know about naval warfare, that’s a splendid idea,” Baker said, and Rick nodded to him and Lieutenant Martins.

  “None of us are experts in a naval fight, so it’s fortunate we have a training aid, courtesy of our British friends. Major?”

  He looked at Baker, who nodded back.

  “Yes, Sir. Leftenant Martins, please come forward.”

  The young lieutenant stood and walked to the front. His first two steps were uncertain as all eyes turned to him, but uncertainty vanished into the camouflage of a stiff, upright boarding-school posture. He sat in a chair next to Rick, maintaining the same upright posture, and drew the same binder he’d handed Rick in Taranto from his pocket. He placed it on the table next to the map of Nikeis and the bay, flipped through a few of the pages, then drew a grease pencil and a rag from the same pocket and looked at Rick.