The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers

by Alan Dean Foster

  Williams sat patiently as the doctor sprayed a coagulant and epidermal fixative on his shoulder, then slapped a square of fast-adhering artificial skin over the wound. Nearby, Millicent Stanhope was talking to her security people as the body of her former secretary was loaded onto a stretcher for removal. As Marquel left the office for the last time, she turned to the visitor occupying her chair.

  “How did you do it?” She gestured toward the open doors. “Handle him, I mean. They’re professionals. What are you?”

  “A teacher, like I told you. Never been anything but a teacher. But a good teacher never stops being a good student. You learn a lot out there.” He nodded toward the frozen landscape visible through the high windows.

  “Your collection, or maybe I should say Jobius Trell’s old collection, saved me. Marquel knew all about contemporary weapons but he didn’t know anything about Tran-ky-ky. I knew he wouldn’t let me get to anything obvious, like a sword or war axe. But that dart thrower is small and it looks more like a tool than a weapon. If he hadn’t been a professional killer, I don’t think I could have brought it off. A nonprofessional wouldn’t have been sufficiently relaxed or confident.”

  Stanhope nodded slowly. Her desk buzzed for attention. The temporary new receptionist sounded slightly shaken.

  “Someone here to see you, ma’am. She’s very insistent. She—hey, you can’t do that.”

  The doors had just closed in the wake of the coroner’s crew. Now they slid apart again to admit two young men. They wore side arms and their eyes immediately searched every centimeter of the office. One of them was half escorting, half dragging a smaller man. This individual’s right arm had been bandaged and his face was puffy with bruises.

  A large, extremely well-dressed woman sauntered in and stopped between her bodyguards. She indicated the battered Nilachek with a contemptuous flick of her wrist.

  “I understand this belongs to you.” She was staring straight at the Commissioner.

  Milliken Williams sat up straight in the high-back chair and gaped at the new arrival as the doors closed behind her. At the same time she noticed him. Her eyes shifted from the Commissioner’s face and a sardonic grin spread over her own features.

  “Hello, Milliken. Long time not seen. What are you teaching this year?”

  XIV

  THE EMPEROR OF ALL Tran-ky-ky gazed over the ramparts of his castle and was not pleased. He’d taken the advice of his human allies and waited for those on board the great ice ship to come crawling to him for food and shelter. Far too many weeks had passed without so much as a moan from the ship.

  Eventually he had made the decision to wait no longer but to attack. For the past several days his imperial forces had repeatedly assaulted the defiant ones trapped in his harbor. His soldiers had tried and failed to set it afire with catapults. They had assailed it with arrows only to watch while the defenders took shelter behind the ship’s solid wooden walls. They had even tried the small, magical light weapons of the skypeople only to discover that at least two of those on board had similar devices of their own, in whose employment they were far more skilled than his own troops.

  As if that were not galling enough, the unspeakable Tran crewing the icerigger possessed strange horizontal bows which fired short, heavy bolts with enough force to penetrate the thickest hide armor.

  Now he could only watch in frustration as still another assault was beaten off and his rapidly demoralized troops retreated back across the ice. He turned furiously on the two skypeople who had promised him so much and thus far had delivered so little. Corfu ren-Arhaveg stood silently nearby.

  Despite the fact that the taller of the two skypeople was the one who did most of the talking whenever they met, Massul knew who was really in command. He directed his fury at the smaller, darker-skinned human whose face was clearly visible behind the visor of his survival suit.

  “Where is the great victory you promised me? Whence comes my dominion over the world? I cannot even control the harbor of my capital city.”

  “What are you worried about?” said Bamaputra via his translator. “They’re trapped here. Of those who escaped all appear to have been forced to return. If any did not, we have arranged for them to be taken care of as soon as they return to the other skypeople place. It’s more likely they drowned.” The dumping of the lifeboat in open water had been reported by those on board the skimmer before its communicator had mysteriously gone silent. Bamaputra regretted the apparent loss of the skimmer as well as the large energy weapon it carried, but such losses had to be expected when dealing with combative primitives like the Tran. The important thing was that most, if not all of the would-be escapees had been forced to return to Yingyapin harbor.

  When equipping the installation it had been decided that there was hardly any need for more than one large energy weapon. That decision was beginning to look shortsighted, though not insurmountable.

  The endless ranting and raving of their emperor was becoming wearying.

  “If I am to command my own subjects, let alone those yet to come, I must at least be able to demonstrate hegemony over my own state.” He gestured violently toward where the Slanderscree squatted just inside the harbor barrier. “Why have we not been able to defeat those who mock me?”

  “Because they are well-organized, well-led, determined, because they have a couple of stolen hand beamers of their own now, and because their people are better fighters than yours.”

  Massul turned away angrily to stare out over the parapet. “You said that you would train my soldiers, that you would make them into an unbeatable fighting force.”

  “Such things take time, and more than just better weapons.” Antal nodded toward the icerigger. “Whoever’s guiding the defense of that ship knows what they’re doing. I suspect the giant has something to do with that. I didn’t like his looks from the moment we set on eyes on him. Should’ve had him shot right off. The scientists are no problem. Then there’s that other one, doesn’t look like much of anything. The one who said he was a salesman. Funny sort. Tricky. I don’t like him either. What was his name?”

  “Fortune,” Bamaputra murmured. “Ethan Fortune, I believe.”

  “Yeah, him. I can’t figure him at all. Just when you think you had him pegged he’d say something unexpected. Should’ve shot him, too.”

  “Why can you not fly over and shoot down at them from your sky boats?”

  “First because we’ve only got one skimmer left,” Antal told him. “Second because their hand beamers have the same range as all our others. I’m not risking the skimmer unless I’m sure it’s worth the risk.”

  “This is an affront to my royal person,” said the outraged Massul. “What more reason do you require?”

  Antal turned to the administrator and switched to Terranglo. “Ninety percent of what this stooge says is gibberish and the other ten percent is vanity.”

  “What concerns me,” Bamaputra said, “is that one or more of those who went out on the smaller boat may have made it back to Brass Monkey. I wish we had some way of knowing for certain.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Anyone gets through, Marquel and Nilachek will take care of things.”

  “I do not share your confidence in last-minute remedies.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I was wondering if we could increase output at the installation to the point where the warming of the atmosphere and the melting of the sea ice would increase ten or twelve fold. Even if the alarm has been raised, we could still hold out here for a while. If we could melt enough of the ice sheet, the process, would become self-sustaining, with the sun heating the open water sufficiently to continue melting the ice.”

  Antal licked his lips. “I wouldn’t want to try it. You run those reactors at that kind of rate and you’re liable to have a containment field collapse. We didn’t plan for that kind of output.”

  Bamaputra gestured toward the Slanderscree. “We didn’t plan for that, either. We must proceed as i
f the worst has occurred, until we hear otherwise.”

  “You’ll never get the technical people to agree to it.”

  “They have no choice. There is nowhere for them to go and they are involved as deeply as you or I. Even if someone from that lifeboat reached Brass Monkey, and even if they somehow avoided the attentions of our people there, it will take the authorities time to react. They will first seek confirmation of a civilian’s story, then meetings will have to be held, group decisions made. Votes will have to be taken. Authorizations will have to be approved.

  “While they dawdle we can strengthen our defenses here, dig ourselves in better, and acquire proper defensive armament.”

  The foreman didn’t quite laugh at him. “This isn’t a military installation, Shiva, and our personnel here aren’t soldiers. A peaceforcer could blow us right out of that mountain without our even seeing it.”

  “I am aware of that. But they will talk first, try to avoid bloodshed. By the time they finally arrive and we finally agree to surrender we may have progressed to the point where it will be simpler for the authorities to adapt to the altered climate than to try and reverse it. We must try, anyway.” He turned to Massul and explained what they were going to do.

  The emperor did not react as expected. “No, you are wrong about one thing. We do have a choice. You may not, but we Tran do. I will do battle with my kin, but I cannot fight sky boats and light swords. You ask too much.”

  “Do you want to be emperor or not?” Bamaputra asked irritably.

  “Better a live Landgrave than a dead emperor. I will fight Tran, but I will not fight skypeople with energy weapons. We will surrender.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Bamaputra said politely. “Surrender?”

  “Do you take me for a fool? If those skypeople”—and he nodded toward the icerigger—“are more powerful than you, why should I not ally myself with them? Do you not think they will accept me? I think they will. Yingyapin is small today, but great cities often arise from villages. We can still serve as a haven for the disenchanted and disenfranchised.” He waved a paw. “I disown you. Do what you will inside your mountain, but henceforth you may do it without my aid.”

  Antal confronted him. “Listen, you furry cretin, you don’t have the skills or the knowledge or the ability to command anything without our help! Have you forgotten, ‘your majesty,’ who put you on your crummy throne here?”

  “You are not the only skypeople who are willing to help the Tran. I see that now. Perhaps you are not even the best. I no longer believe your stories.” Again he indicated the icerigger. “Those who fight alongside the other skypeople do not act like the exploited and deceived. I begin to wonder on what they tried to tell me of your intentions. Yes, I begin to wonder. I have decided. We will surrender to them. I am still emperor here.”

  “That’s right, you are.” Antal stepped back and gestured sharply. Corfu nodded, whispered to two of the soldiers who had been serving as honor guard. The three of them grabbed Massul fel-Stuovic and carried him to the edge of the parapet.

  “Put me down! Put me down this instant!” The wind caught his dan and they billowed tautly around him. “I am emperor here. I am emperor of all Tran-ky-ky, Landgrave of Yingyapin! I command you to …”

  A moment later Antal stepped to the edge of the stone rampart and looked over the side. A couple of curious passers-by had gathered around the stain on the ice below. After a while they tilted back their heads to look upward. Then they turned and chivaned off in opposite directions.

  The foreman stepped back from the parapet. “So much for one problem.”

  “Would that all our problems were so easily solved.” Bamaputra turned to the merchant. “Corfu ren-Arhaveg, I hereby appoint you Landgrave of Yingyapin and Emperor of all Tran-ky-ky. Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “At your service, sirs.” Corfu executed that strange sideways Tran bow. “There may be some resistance among members of Massul’s court.”

  “We’ll take care of that,” Bamaputra assured him. “You understand what we’re going to do here? We’re going to try and speed up the warming trend.”

  “I understand, sir. I think it for the better. Why wait until one is old and stooped to enjoy success?”

  “Why wait indeed?” Bamaputra muttered.

  Antal put a hand on Corfu’s shoulder. “Keep trying to take the ship. Don’t risk too many of your troops. We want to keep them busy out there so they don’t have a chance to sneak out. Eventually they’ll get hungry and give up. Meanwhile we’ve got to get back to our work. We’ll leave you a communicator, one of our ‘wind-talkers,’ so you can get in touch with us if anything unexpected turns up.”

  Corfu straightened. “Friend Antal, worry not. You can rely on me.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why we’ve made you emperor. Should’ve done it months ago instead of sticking with that poor crazy bastard.” He turned to leave.

  “A moment.” Bamaputra spoke softly.

  Antal frowned, turned back to face his boss. “Something wrong?”

  “Very wrong. Listen.”

  They did so, until Corfu was moved to ask, “The wind?”

  “No. No, not the wind.” Bamaputra’s lips were taut, his expression frozen. “Not the thrice-damned wind.”

  “How much longer can we hold out?” Cheela Hwang was leaning over the railing, staring at the distant windswept city. Ethan stood nearby.

  “A week,” he told her “Hunnar thinks maybe two or three.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we try to strike some kind of deal with our ‘friends.’ ” He nodded in the direction of the harborfront.

  “You can’t deal with people like that.”

  “You can’t starve to death, either. Besides which we’re running low on crossbow bolts and beamer charges.”

  She sighed, turned to study him closely. “Then Milliken didn’t get through.”

  “We don’t know that. Not yet. Milliken’s very resourceful. Deceptively so. There’s still a chance.”

  “Yes, he’s quietly competent.”

  Now it was Ethan’s turn to stare at her thoughtfully. “You sort of like our friend Milliken, don’t you?”

  She looked past him, toward the mechanical boom that barred the Slanderscree’s exit. “Sort of.”

  He turned away so she wouldn’t see him smile. As he did so he frowned. “You hear something, Cheela?”

  She stared over the bow. “Hear something? Only the wind.”

  “No, something besides the wind. Higher pitched.”

  Others heard it as well. Those soldiers and sailors not manning defensive positions made a concerted rush for the bow. Ethan and Hwang followed, along with the icerigger’s entire human complement.

  “Skimmer!” he finally yelled when he was certain. “It has to be a skimmer!”

  “Your excitement’s premature, feller-me-lad.” September had come up behind them. Panting hard, he strained to peer past the gate. “A skimmer it is for sure, but whose?” He held the huge Tran battle axe that had been a gift from the Landgrave of Wannome. With its edge resting on the deck, his left ankle crossed over his right as he leaned on the axe’s handle for support, he looked for all the world like some silver-suited ghost resting casually on an ancient umbrella in some posh trendy neighborhood on Earth or New Paris. The barbarian boulevarder, Ethan mused.

  “Could the evil skypeople have called another sky boat from somewhere to come and help them recapture us?” Hunnar wondered worriedly.

  “It’s possible.” Already Ethan was losing some of the initial enthusiasm the approaching skimmer had engendered. “If that’s the case, there isn’t much we can do about it. They might be supplied by skimmer at regular intervals. The critical thing is, how is it armed? I don’t see them having another cannon. No need for two heavy weapons here. Maybe they had another skimmer out doing survey work and they called it back when the one tracking us didn’t return. What do you think, Skua?”

  “
I don’t know what to think, feller-me-lad. If our friend Antal had access to more heavy artillery, I think we’d have been treated to a demonstration long before now. So I can’t explain what this one’s doing showing up all of a suddenlike.” He glanced back toward the city. “If this was going to be an attack, they’d be hitting us from both sides.”

  “By the same token it can’t be from Brass Monkey,” Cheela Hwang told them. “There are no skimmers at Brass Monkey. Only ice cycles. The presence of skimmers would violate …”

  “We know, we know,” Ethan said impatiently. “It’s against regulations to utilize advanced transportation systems in backward regions of backward worlds. Too much of a shock to the natives. I’m getting sick of that regulation.”

  The humming grew steadily louder. “I don’t think it’s the one we first ran into out on the ice, the one whose crew we shot up that came back later with the cannon in tow,” September declared hesitantly. “Sounds much bigger, like a cargo shifter.” His wavy white hair fluttered in the wind like a glowing nimbus around his great head as he stared into the distance. Then he pointed with an arm the size of a foremast spar.

  “There she is!”

  “Can you see who’s aboard?”

  September could not, but the Tran could. “Many of your kind,” Hunnar informed them. “It is truly a bigger sky boat than the one that tried to sink our lifeboat.”

  “Cannons, guns,” September growled anxiously. “What can you see?”

  “I see no such large weapons, no lightning-thrower.” Hunnar leaned over the railing. “I see—by the beard of my grandfather!”

  “What, what is it?” Ethan pressed him.

  “It is the scholar!”

  “The scholar?”

  “Williams, he sees Williams,” September said gleefully. “Our scholar.”

  “It is so. The respected one has returned with help.”

  “But that’s impossible.” Hwang had to stand on tiptoes to see past them. They could make out individual shapes moving on the deck of the huge air-repulsion craft, but not faces. “There are no skimmers based at Brass Monkey.”