by I K Dirac
“Junipa?”
She looked up and saw two smartly-dressed middle-aged females gazing down at her with smiles of anticipation.
“Yes.”
“We're so glad to meet you,” said the one who spoke first. “My name is Horatia and this is Perogia. We weren't sure it was you at first,” she hesitated. “I hope you don't mind me saying this, in those clothes, but Perogia recognized you from your picture.”
Junipa smiled wanly and looked around to see who was listening, but they had spoken in normal voices and appeared to have no fear of being overheard. Horatia chuckled.
“Don't worry. They're all women like us here. You can say what you want.”
Junipa realized that she had been so intent on keeping her head down that she had not noticed that all of the dozen or so others in the cafe were female. That was fifteen minutes of seed perusal in her life that she would never get back. She motioned them to join her.
“I'm very glad to meet you too. How are you both?”
“I'm not so bad,” said Horatia, “but poor Perogia has done her hip again, haven't you?”
Perogia nodded.
“It's calving time. Having to pull them out when they get stuck. Always does my hip in.”
“I hope you get better soon,” said Junipa, concerned.
Perogia reassured her.
“Once calving's over, I'll put my feet up and let my lazy dog of a husband do something for a change. I'll be right as rain in a few days.”
“You should get rid of him,” said Horatia. “Treat yourself to a new model.”
“No,” said Perogia, a little wistfully. “I can't do that. He might be a lazy good-for-nothing slob, too fond of his drink and useless in bed, like most of them round here, but he's not actually bad. A new one would probably be worse.”
“I'm getting rid of mine,” said Horatia firmly. “He has to go. I'm giving him his marching orders at the end of the week.”
“Ooh,” said Perogia, intrigued. “What are you going to do for money then?”
Horatia laughed.
“Silly tit put the farm in my name because he wanted to pull the wool over the taxman's eyes. So I'm having it and he can go whistle.”
Perogia clapped her hands in delight.
“Won't you be the merry one then!”
Horatia grinned.
“I certainly will be. It's all systems go once he's out of the way. What about you, Junipa? Are you married?”
Junipa winced inwardly. The very word “husband” made her feel queasy. Any mention of exchanging bodily fluids with a male brought on spasms of nausea.
“No, certainly not.”
Horatia realized her mistake.
“Sorry. Silly of me. You don't believe in it, do you? We don't really. If it was up to us we'd kick them all out, but what else can you do on Desiderata? Everyone expects it. Are you here to help us start the revolution? I can tell you that a lot of women here would be up for it.”
At another time Junipa would have done all she could to rescue these women from their predicament, but just then she had other business.
“Thank you both for coming to meet me. It's always nice to meet members of our movement, but talk of revolution is a little premature. We think the time’s not quite right. More needs to be done on the ground; failure would be disastrous, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you. However I am here on a very important mission for our movement. Grand Dominix Orestia herself has asked me to thank you personally for agreeing to help.”
Horatia and Perogia nodded reverently as they listened.
“I will come to the point. Do you know anything about consignments of Chelodoney that the Orsonians have ordered to be delivered to a secret destination, not Planet Orson itself?”
Horatia and Perogia both nodded, smiling.
“Oh yes,” said Horatia, “Everyone knows that. You can't keep a secret on Desiderata from us.”
Junipa just managed to contain her astonishment.
“That is very interesting. Could you tell me more?”
“Well,” said Horatia, “as you probably know, this is the best place on Desiderata for producing Chelodoney. We have the best climate, the best territory... ”
“Terroir,” interjected Perogia.
“Terroir,” continued Horatia, “and the best breeds, the best everything. That's what they want, the Orsonians, for their 'secret' destination. Nothing but the best for them – and to give them their due, they are willing to pay for it. Once the beasts are ready, we take them to the slaughterhouse and then to the Spaceport. Then we hand them over to the Orsonian contingent there. They put the meat into special containers that have seals that only the Orsonians know about, so no one else can open them. Then off they go.”
“In an Orsonian ship?”
Perogia tutted.
“Certainly not. Too trigger-happy they are. We don't allow them. It's a normal commercial freighter.”
Junipa was intrigued.
“How do you know these details?”
“My sister's girl, Ostense, works at the Spaceport,” said Horatia. “She goes out with one of the Orsonians. They think they're god’s gift to women, don't they? They have all the money and they flash it about. Turns these young girls' heads. She likes to chat, so we hear all about what goes on.”
Security did not seem to be taken too seriously by the Desideratans, thought Junipa.
“How strictly do the Orsonians check everything? Speaking hypothetically, of course, would it be possible to get anything else into the containers?”
Perogia and Horatia laughed.
“I doubt it. They watch everything like a hawk,” said Perogia.
Junipa desided to press further.
“How about bribery, or,” she added, stealing herself to ask the question, “other means of enticement?”
Perogia and Horatia laughed louder.
“You might be on to something there,” said Perogia, still laughing. “Like all males they like to think they are big strong boys, but really they're led by their you-know-what.”
Junipa decided it was time to wrap things up.
“Thank you both very much. You have been very helpful. I shall commend you to Grand Dominix Orestia. I'm sure she will take a great interest from now on in the progress of our movement on Desiderata. Keep up the struggle and you will prevail in the end.”
Horatia and Perogia beamed with pleasure.
“You're very welcome,” said Perogia. “Have a good trip back and don't worry about us. The men have no idea what what's going to hit them from now on.”
***
“Well, Your Feminence, I do think you have done quite well and I am prepared to put in a good word for you with Commander Splenditheran, but he is a rather hard man to please. He may not agree that you have done quite enough to earn your full fee.”
Junipa felt her indignation boil up as she gazed at the communicator and the figure of de la Beche, clad in an ivory damask jacket with gold filigree lacing and sporting a large peaked cap. Orestia, too, did not bother to conceal her irritation.
“Captain, this is intolerable. Pay up at once or I will contact every one of your 'blue chip' clients and inform them of what a disreputable, unreliable, cheating, reneger of contracts you are.”
De la Beche appeared unruffled.
“No need to take it like that, Your Feminence. I sure we can sort things out. In fact, as you were talking an idea occurred to me that might be even more profitable for your good selves.”
Orestia grew even more exasperated.
“I really don't want to hear any more of your ideas, Captain. Just pay up.”
De la Beche persisted.
“Do let me explain. You remember our contract mentioned finding ways of getting into Arkadia?”
“It was 'best endeavours' Captain. We were under no obligation to actually find a way in.”
“Yes, yes. I'm not quibbling about that. It occurred to me that we might be able to use the old Trojan Horse stratagem.”
Junipa had no idea what he was talking about and, from the expression on her face, neither had Orestia.
“I don't follow you,” said Orestia.
“From what you have told me the containers go straight into Arkadia. What if instead of dead meat they contained armed soldiers? We know there are no weapons on board, so they would be able to take it over and rescue the Kwokkah.”
Orestia shook her head several times in disbelief.
“I have heard some madcap schemes in my time, Captain, but this must be the maddest. How do you propose getting these soldiers into the containers? They are loaded and sealed on Desiderata by the Orsonians. I think even the dumbest Orsonian would notice the difference between an animal carcase and an armed soldier.”
“That's true, but I was thinking more along the lines of intercepting the freighter and putting the troops in then.”
That merely heightened Orestia's disbelief.
“Do you imagine that the Orsonians wouldn't notice you blithely entering their territory and taking over the freighter transporting their favourite food? And how do you propose to break the seals without them noticing? Only they have the codes.”
“Fair point, Your Feminence. Another idea has just popped into my head. What if the Bountiful were doing the transporting? Then we could do the switch once we were on our way.”
Derision ensued.
“You're indulging in sheer fantasy now, Captain. How do you imagine you could convince the Orsonians to allow you to transport their precious cargo?”
“Another fair point. I'm going to have do more thinking. I shall contact Commander Splenditheran. Perhaps we can put our heads together and come up with something. Let's just suppose, for the moment, that we can come up with a plan. What I would like to propose is that your renowned Feminarch warriors would be those soldiers.”
Junipa gazed at the screen open-mouthed. Orestia was clearly equally astonished.
“Whatever makes you think we would agree to do that?,” said Orestia.
De la Beche gave a little smile.
“If you did agree, you would be very well compensated for your trouble. We would not be talking thousands any more. We would be talking a million.”
Orestia was running out of patience.
“Is there no end to your fantasies, Captain? You refuse to pay us the twenty-five thousand you owe us and you expect us to believe that you can come up with a million. Please, stop all this nonsense and pay up.”
De la Beche adopted his most conciliatory tone.
“I do understand, Your Feminence. I shall contact Splenditheran immediately and you will get your money. You have my word. But can I just press you on the point? If we can come up with a watertight plan and there is a million in it for your organization, would you be willing to join?”
Orestia pondered.
“It would have to be an absolute cast-iron guarantee, not one of your airy-fairy promises. Splenditheran would have to be a signatory and we would want to be involved in all the planning.”
“Splendid,” beamed de la Beche. “Delighted to have you on board. There's just one more thing.”
“What's that?”
“We need those seal codes.”
As de la Beche's face disappeared from the communicator, a flabbergasted Junipa turned to Orestia.
“Are you serious about going in with him?”
Orestia laughed.
“Of course not, and neither is he. We both know that Splenditheran would never allow it. He's trying to bribe us so we give him those codes.”
“And will you?”
“I think we will.”
Junipa was even more surprised.
“Why?”
“Think about it. I hardly need remind you that our planet is in a very precarious position politically. The neutral zone only exists because neither the Southern Cross Federation nor the Orsonians is strong enough to annex it in the face of opposition from the other. If one of them does become strong enough then we would be doomed.”
Junipa reacted indignantly.
“What do you mean doomed? Our members on every one of their planets would rise up if they dared lay a hand on us.”
“I would hope so, although we couldn't be sure. But even so, the forces that either sent against us would be overwhelming.”
“Then we would go underground, as our forebears once did.”
Orestia nodded.
“Of course, but starting over again is always harder. Anyway, to continue my point, what do we know about the Nullarboreans?”
Junipa shrugged.
“Just a bunch of god-botherers, worse than most, so I hear. Never stop going on about how great their particular deity is and how he has told them to keep their females wrapped from head to toe in sacking and treat them as child-spawning domestic slaves.”
“Exactly so,” said Orestia. “Worse, they are hell bent on proselytizing and have managed to spread their abysmal creed to some surrounding planets, which is why they have become of such strategic importance. If the Orsonians managed to persuade them to change sides that might tip the balance of power and they might move into the neutral zone. The Kwokkah thing is the enticement.”
Junipa looked puzzled.
“That may be true, but what could we do about it?”
“It's not so much what we can do about it as what we can do with it. If de la Beche is bandying sums like a million about you can be sure that the Southern Cross would be willing to stump up even more for the recovery of the Kwokkah. I need hardly remind you that we are desperately short of convertible currency. With a few million we could double our outreach efforts and re-equip our forces and have something over.”
Junipa looked even more puzzled.
“Chance would be a fine thing. How do you propose to manage it?”
For once, Orestia's stern features softened into an almost smile.
“We'll let de la Beche do the dirty work. We'll assume that Splenditheran goes along with his scheme and it actually works, thanks to the codes that we have given him. They get away with the Kwokkah. A very big assumption, I grant you, but let's go with it. Now he is making his escape on the good ship HMS Bountiful. What do we know about it? It's old and has outdated control systems with unpatchable vulnerabilities that only we know about because nobody else bothers to look for them. I've had a word with our systems people and they say it would be child's play to intercept it, shut down all its defences and redirect it here without them realizing what is happening. We then take it over. I think our troops will be more than a match for the few dissolutes and geriatrics he has.”
Junipa grinned delightedly.
“Brilliant. Now all we need are those codes.”
“That shouldn't be too difficult. From what I hear the Orsonians on Desiderata are led by the usual part of their anatomy. I think our stalwarts know what to do.”
18
Commander Splenditheran was at his desk in his stateroom, in front of the picture of an idyllic pastoral scene, complete with rustic peasants and scantily-clad maidens. De la Beche, Mister Betelgeuse and Jim sat facing him.
“You have some news for me, Captain?”
“Indeed we have, Commander. I think we may have come up with a plan to recover your Kwokkah, but we will need a little help from you.”
Splenditheran's expression was a mixture of puzzlement and pleasure, as if he could not quite believe what he was hearing.
“That sounds most interesting, Captain. Do elaborate.”
De la Beche nodded in acknowledgement and made an expansive gesture with his hand.
“I know you had your doubts about the Feminarchs, darling – quite understandable – but I can assure you that they have turned up trumps. Money well spent. We now believe from their intelligence sources that the Kwokkah is somewhere on a space station codenamed Arkadia, which is currently in orbit round the Orsonians’ home planet. The Orsonians prefer to keep it there, rather than on the planet, for security reasons and
needless to say security round it is extremely tight. Nothing gets within an astronomical unit of it without being stopped and thoroughly inspected. Arkadia is the favoured spot for relaxation and much else of the Orsonian elite. It has a crew of Orsonians, handpicked for loyalty. Almost all supplies come from Orson and are inspected both before being sent and on arrival. The one exception is deliveries of Chelodony.”
Splenditheran's face puckered.
“I assume you are talking about meat from an animal which is found only on the planet Desiderata. I understand the Orsonians value it highly, although being a vegetarian I have not myself tasted it.”
“Indeed, darling; it is considered by the Orsonians to be the greatest delicacy in the Galaxy. They spend huge sums on it. Only the very best Chelodony is sent to Arkadia.”
Splenditheran shook his head.
“I have never understood, Captain, why, if the Orsonians are spending a fortune on meat, they don’t just get hold of a few of these animals and breed them themselves?”
“Chelodony is a Galactically-registered appellation, Commander. Only meat from animals grown on Desiderata can be called Chelodony. The Orsonians are very brand-conscious. They would not accept inferior substitutes, wherever they might have come from. They are food snobs on top of everything else, which doesn’t really surprise me.
“To continue, the animals are killed and butchered on Desiderata, according to appellation rules, and then put into containers. Those containers are then sealed by a detachment of Orsonian inspectors. They are put onto commercial freighters and sent to Orson. Once in orbit around Orson, the containers are inspected, but if the seals are not broken they are sent on to Arkadia without being opened. Opening them might spoil the flavour.”
Splenditheran did not seem impressed.
“A most interesting exposition of the interstellar comestibles business, Captain, but what has it to do with any plan?”
“Patience, Commander, patience. Desiderata is a long way from Orson in every sense of the word. The Orsonian inspectors there are left very much to their own devices and, thanks to the sterling efforts of the Desideratan Feminarchs – I don't think I need to go into details – the Orsonian seal technology and codes have come into our possession. Not only that but the Orsonians consider the Desideratans to be country bumpkins and have been rather careless with security there. The Feminarchs have managed to acquire detailed plans of Arkadia.”