Next was the cis-lunar high orbit, where Traffic Control placed most incoming and outgoing commercial ships until space was found at the Rivington spaceport for them. There were always a few independent Space Viking ships, Gilgameshers, and merchantmen hovering around up there, on their way in or out of the system. Right now there were five, including the Fireball, Durendal. The Damnthing, with the good Roger-fan-Morvill Esthersan in command of the formidable Space Viking raider. The Gilgamesh freighter Prosperity. The independent Old Federation merchantman Aces High. And the first ship of Beowulf’s new merchant fleet, the Weregild, a pretty two-thousand footer that had come here the same time they’d brought the wreck of the Nemesis in from Shamash.
The Nemesis. She was in the next orbit down, the official Royal Navy orbit. She was only a few miles out from the likewise-damaged King Omfray, which was in the middle of repairs and re-commissioning. A few hundred miles from the little control station that the Gorram Yards used to do such work, the Lamia was on permanent station. Deprived of her Dillinghams she was no more a star-faring ship, but she was still highly maneuverable and had four times the armament she’d boasted when he and Lucas first brought the Nemesis into Tanith the first time. The Lamia was where the command for orbital defenses was usually vested. She was also the Royal Navy’s permanent training facility, and de facto Naval Academy.
Further back in orbit he could see the Star of Tanith, the Princess Valerie, the Golden Hand and the Moon Goddess, four all new fifteen-hundred footers recently returned from errands to the near-by worlds to search for Princess Elaine. They were fast and well-armed. Better, perhaps, than Valkanhayn’s Space Scourge, currently out on assignment. Beyond them was the Queen Flavia, the Gram-built two-thousand foot raider whose captain had foresworn his allegiance to Gram and offered his sword to Lucas after the late King Angus divorced the noble woman the ship was named for. Lucas had insisted on keeping the name out of respect for the lady, who was now living on one of the other Sword Worlds in comfortable exile.
The Beowulf ship Gunloggi was also in that privileged orbit, just arrived. The Beowulfers were feeling very contrite about losing Lucas so close to their homeworld, and they’d volunteered one of their ships for semi-permanent duty on Tanith in contrition. While Harkaman didn’t blame the Beowulfers one bit for not being able to bend the rules of physics to get to Lucas in time, he didn’t mind the extra help. He’d gone on a few raids with the Gunloggi last year, and he was impressed with how well the ship had fought. He was glad to have her.
In fact, that was a sizable fleet to bust through, if someone wanted to land on Tanith. Between the fire of the warships in low orbit and the constant hammering from the moon of Tanith, you’d have to be willing to pay a pretty big butcher’s bill to get down to the soil of the world.
And in doing so, you’d also have to prove pretty nimble. New anti-aircraft and strategic missiles were now planted all around Rivington. There were heavy artillery emplacements, huge anti-ship 200mm guns throwing collapsium-plated shells half-way to orbit, scattered all across the plains. And the city itself was reasonably well-armed, now, too.
Of course he had his own two-thousand foot Corisande, as doughty a ship as any in the fleet. And Otto Harkaman was no average commander. He was responsible for the deaths of millions over his long career. But right now, he’d rather take on a space-born onslaught of invaders than face his distraught sovereign.
Yes, Tanith could be taken. It could be destroyed. But it couldn’t be done easily. And that was about the best he could manage, now.
His reverie was broken by the arrival of Stan Dawes, the mysterious emissary from the shadowy figure known as “the Wizard”. A neatly, if plainly-dressed man, he seemed to have a very keen grasp of Tanith’s situation. He said that he came from somewhere in the Old Federation, but that was as much personal information as he’d reveal. Harkaman had threatened to put the man under a veridicator and intense interrogation, but Dawes had calmly mentioned that he had three different ways to suicide before they’d get the electrodes hooked up, and that had been the end of that. There was not a doubt in Harkaman’s mind that the man would prove as good as his word. One doesn’t discuss one’s own suicide that calmly unless one was committed, utterly, to one’s cause.
He claimed to be a kinsman of Sam Gatworth, the young soldier who had sacrificed himself to protect the Royal Family at his home that fateful day. While he couldn’t prove it, the affectionate way he had gazed at the belongings in Sam’s possession at the time of his death told Harkaman that there was at least an element of truth to the statement. He had been granted conditional parole after he had not only claimed to be sent from the Wizard, but said had valuable information for Tanith concerning her enemies.
That had been true. With his help and advice, they had discovered a regular clandestine courier operating out of a merchantman that made a regular trip between Tanith and Gimli, one of the Mardukan possessions. Only the courier was not one of Marduk’s intelligence agents. They had followed him enough to figure out that he worked for one of the other powers – likely Aton or Isis – but the spy on Tanith he was ferrying information for had yet to be identified.
Dawes also claimed to know an awful lot about the plans that a consortium of civilized worlds, led by Aton, had for Tanith in general, and for Prince Lucas in particular. That had been the final thing that had convinced the Tanith government of his sincerity, when the dreadful report from Beowulf had come. Prince Lucas had escaped the trap on Shamash, but had fallen into one set at Beowulf, and had been taken by a ship of unknown origins that had been skulking around the fringes of Beowulf’s solar system. It wasn’t clear exactly who had captured him, and Harkaman was betting on Gram’s new Navy (what was left of it) or maybe an enterprising Space Viking who looked to Viktor of Xochitl. But Dawes was certain it was one of the civilized powers, far from home, and he was leaning towards Aton.
If true, that would prove an oversight on Aton’s part. While his whereabouts were currently unknown, the moment that Princess Elaine’s fate had been settled, Harkaman was prepared to send every ship and man under his command to Aton and show them what a real Space Viking raid was like. He took the theft of his prince very seriously.
“Good morning, Admiral,” Dawes said, cheerfully. “Do you have a few moments?”
“Just waiting for another shoe to drop,” Harkaman admitted. Despite Dawes’ mysterious origin, the man was friendly and intelligent, and seemed genuinely well-disposed towards Tanith. And he made you want to confide in him. But Harkaman resisted – there was still so much they didn’t know about him or his master. “Until some of our ships get back, there’s not much else to do.”
“Then let’s discuss the big picture today, shall we?” Dawes asked, as he settled into a nearby empty chair. It was the sensitive guns-and-missiles station, but it was secured.
“The big picture?” Harkaman asked, intrigued. “How big a picture? Shall we start with the First Federation, or something more recent?” He enjoyed debating history and policy with the knowledgeable man. He was one of the few who could match Harkaman’s knowledge of the past.
“Let’s limit it to the players in the current game,” Dawes decided. “At least on the Old Federation side.”
Harkaman, eager for the distraction of abstract thought, as opposed to sobbing mothers and missing children, signaled for a serving robot to dispense beverages. He chose some of that excellent coffee, and lit his pipe, while Dawes ordered Heaven-tea and cigarettes at the “chatter chair” nearby his command console. “So which of the civilized devils shall we begin with?”
“Let’s start with the devil you know: Marduk,” Dawes began. “One of the oldest of the old civilizations, and one of the earliest colonies of Terra. Standard constitutional monarchy, descended from the British Royal Family after they relocated to New Zealand after WWIII on Terra—”
“Don’t forget the Falkland branch,” reminded Harkaman. He, himself, had some Falkland British nobility in
his ancestry, if his father had been truthful.
“Ah, yes, the Argentinean Brits. From global conquest to sheep farming in one generation. In any case, the present Mardukan government is directly descended from the pro forma monarchy that the Mardukan Colonization Company established, largely with Anzac British Royal Family money. First planetary monarchy established in the Old Federation. Small but important noble class. Currently that’s about a hundred and twenty aristocratic families, a smaller group of royal houses, and a big, ungainly Parliament that’s currently suspended. The military officer corps is heavily derived from the aristocracy, and is the only thing currently holding Prince Simon on the throne. Commoners make up enlisted personnel or soldiers. There continues to be a lot of anti-Space Viking agitation, and as popular as Simon is, that isn’t going away.”
“We have plenty more room for more political prisoners,” Harkaman pointed out. “At least they know how to fly a contragrav jeep. I don’t trust half my neobarbs to do that much.”
“Well, Marduk has been considered the Sick Man of the Old Federation for about three generations,” Dawes nodded. “Sixteen trade planets, an important recent alliance with Ishtar, and a Royal Navy frantically trying to rebuild itself before it gets in any more fights. The royal house has grown weaker and weaker, the military has gotten more political . . . to be honest, until this Marduk Affair, the Wizard expected to see the planet fall to one of the other players and become a dependant.”
Harkaman winced. Marduk was a grand old world, filled with history and civilization. And he’d gotten quite close to some of the expatriate Mardukans who had taken Tanith’s colors. Good people, intelligent, vibrant. But he couldn’t disagree with the assessment that Marduk was largely living on past glories.
“Then we have Odin, one of the true powerhouses of the Old Federation,” Dawes continued. “Odin has the most expansive and ambitious of the trading empires, encompassing twenty-two planets who are either directly dependent or closely allied. And twice that number of worlds that are friendly to Odin. Some are pretty impressive powers in their own right, like Zarathustra, and Ra, too. Some of them are pretty vital, too, like Uller and Nifflheim – yes, the hell planet, Admiral. It’s actually quite a lucrative property, but I wouldn’t encourage a raid there. For the most part Odin leaves the other powers alone, unless they sense a real weakness that can add to what they have without risking more. But when the do commit, it’s a powerful force.
“The King of Odin, Vilhelm, is part of a strongly-entrenched royal family that is further supported not just by the nobility, but by their premiere military as well. Odin has over sixty ships above five-hundred feet in its fleet. They have no real imperial ambitions, but neither do they have compunctions about acting in their perceived interest. Right now they see the Space Vikings as a potential menace, but since few of their worlds have had problems, they have largely stayed neutral in the debate. There is even a small minority who are vocal in support of the civilizing influence of your people, Admiral.”
“Quite gracious of them,” chuckled Harkaman.
“Isn’t it? Odin and Marduk have often allied together, and occasionally warred with each other, but they generally respect their places in the galaxy and don’t interfere. Friendly rivals.
“Baldur is another matter. Baldur is a fabulously rich world, beautiful, with a vibrant culture. Baldur has a low-key aristocracy that revolves around industrial and trading concerns – in fact, no sitting member of the aristocracy is allowed to serve in the military. The focus of the aristocracy is business, and the focus of the military is to keep the business community supporting the military, so there’s a surprisingly seamless overlap of interests holding Baldur’s civilization together.
“The Balduran fleet is concerned primarily with patrolling its eighteen trade planets and keeping shipping lanes open. They also are always scheming to pick up another one or two, if the opportunity arises. But that’s just the point: Baldur won’t hesitate to move on a valuable world if there is no one to stop them. They’re all about the business deal. Militarism is a means to an end, and that end is trade. They will ally with any of the other powers and have, but they will also break that alliance the moment it becomes disadvantageous for them. Right now Baldur is neutral on the question of Space Vikings. Few Balduran-allied worlds have been raided, and the ones who have are minor parts of their sphere of influence. Besides, a lot of Balduran merchants have profited from Space Vikings in various ways. Without a compelling reason to change, you can count on Baldur to keep the status quo.”
“Good to know,” Harkaman nodded.
“Then there is the Eternal Planetary Queendom of Isis. Are you familiar with that strange beast?”
“Not really,” Harkaman admitted. “Heard of it, yes, and even read a few short histories. But not much about recent history.”
“Isis is fascinating,” agreed Dawes. “One of the first twenty-five colony worlds, actually, and one of the more successful. They stayed loyal to the Federation until the bitter end, and after a very interesting civil war, eventually prohibited men from taking their largely ceremonial throne. Ceremonial back then: since that time, the Royal House of Isis has become a real ruling power. You can blame the influence of Freya, which is a strong ally of Isis. You know Freya?”
“The only non-Terran human population,” Harkaman answered. “Perfectly human people, on a planet where perfectly human people don’t grow naturally.”
“Yes, one of the Five Great Mysteries of the Galaxy,” agreed Dawes. “Freya is light-years away from Terra, yet when our ancestors arrived, the people there were human enough to interbreed with. And, by all accounts, absolutely perfect physical specimens.”
They weren’t just perfect, they typified the Nordic features found among so many descendents of Scandinavian, Slavic, and Germanic peoples so closely that theories of pre-contact crossbreeding were rampant – despite any physical evidence to support the claim. The women were buxom, tall, blonde, and heart-breakingly beautiful. The men were tall, blonde, and achingly handsome. And they were just as intelligent as any other human being. Freya had enjoyed a culture locked into the medieval-renaissance level, before the humans from Terra had fallen out of the sky. Since their colonization, they had quickly civilized and become one of the great worlds of the Old Federation. Most of Isis’ ships, it was said, were built on Freya.
“Well, the Royal Family on Isis has four separate instances of intermarriage with Freyans, and they look and act like it. Haughty. Arrogant. Completely convinced of their own superiority, and utter certain of everyone else’s inferiority. They despise Odin, Baldur, and Marduk as traitors to the intellectual and moral inheritance of the Old Federation, and they see upstarts like Osiris and Aton as needing to defer to their superior wisdom and moral guidance. Unfortunately, they have thirteen trade planets in their network, plus another dozen who are loosely aligned with them, plus powerful allies like Freya and Eir, and a forty-ship fleet. And they don’t hesitate to act out of a sense of maternal noblesse oblige. Whether the locals wanted to be obliged or not.
“Then we have the venerable Ishtar. That’s a huge, bloated population of 8 billion, all packed onto a planet only a few hundred miles larger than Tanith. Ishtar has a trading ‘empire’ of sorts, with the four closest planets being economically dependent on them, but their navy, such as it is, is entirely defensive. The people there tend to be Buddhists or Hindus, and they also tend to be pacifists. Luckily, none of the other civilized worlds are willing to alienate her huge markets, so they all try to protect Ishtar.”
“What about Osiris?” Harkaman asked.
“Ah, the upstart world! It was actually decivilizing rapidly about two hundred years ago when a group of free-thinking colonists from Baldur and Ishtar swooped in and tried to save the natives. A few generations passed and they’d managed to start building their own ships. Then in the aftermath of the Three Powers war, they were able to land forces on Gefion, overwhelm the garrison Isis left there
, and they’ve been on a slow but steady course of expansion ever since. They’re still in the early stages – only eight trade worlds to their name – but they’re big enough so that none of the other powers is going to molest them lightly. They’ve traditionally backed whomever Ishtar favored, and right now they’re fairly neutral about Space Vikings. But they’ve been listening more and more to—”
“Aton,” Harkaman finished. “I’m starting to not like Aton.”
“You have good company,” agreed the mysterious man. “Aton was originally a Mardukan colony, about five centuries ago. Idealists and explorers first, of course, and then the usual mix of hardy pioneers and frontier entrepreneurs. But after about a century, Marduk started using Aton as a dumping ground for political dissidents – particularly the anti-Monarchist parties. A few generations of this, and Aton was generally anti-aristocratic, with a lot of extreme ideas about democracy and egalitarianism. It was like a collapsing laboratory of political theory, and during a particularly nasty war, Aton declared independence from Marduk, predictably. And then the planetary government just as predictably splintered into rival regional powers.
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