Young Flandry

by Poul Anderson

  "What should I have done instead?" McCormac disputed. "Leave my wife and myself out of it. Think only what Snelund had already done to this sector. What he would do if and when he won back to Terra. Was there another solution but to strike at the root of our griefs and dangers?"

  "'Root'—radix—you radicals are all alike," Flandry said. "You think everything springs from one or two unique causes, and if only you can get at them, everything will automatically become paradisical. History doesn't go that way. Read some and see what the result of every resort to violence by reformists has been."

  "Your theory!" McCormac said, flushing. "I . . . we were faced with a fact."

  Flandry shrugged. "Many moves were possible," he said. "A number had been started: complaints to Terra, pressure to get Snelund removed from office or at least contained in his scope. Failing that, you might have considered assassinating him. I don't deny he was a threat to the Empire. Suppose, specifically, after your friends liberated you, you'd gotten together a small though efficient force and mounted a raid on the palace for the limited purposes of freeing Kathryn and killing Snelund. Wouldn't that have served?"

  "But what could we have done afterward?"

  "You'd have put yourselves outside the law." Flandry nodded. "Same as I've done, though I hope to hide the guilt I don't feel. Quite aside from my personal well-being, the fact would set a bad precedent if it became public. Among your ignorances, McCormac, is that you don't appreciate how essential a social lubricant hypocrisy is."

  "We couldn't have . . . skulked."

  "No, you'd have had to do immediately what you and many others now have to do regardless—get out of the Empire."

  "Are you crazy? Where to?"

  Flandry rose once more and looked down upon him. "You're the crazy man," he said. "I suppose we are decadent these days, in that we never seem to think of emigration. Better stay home, we feel, and cling to what we have, what we know, our comforts, our assurances, our associations . . . rather than vanish forever into that big strange universe . . . even when everything we cling to is breaking apart in our hands. But the pioneers worked otherwise. There's room yet, a whole galaxy beyond these few stars we think we control, out on the far end of one spiral arm.

  "You can escape if you start within the next several hours. With that much lead, and dispersal in addition, your ships ought to be able to pick up families, and leave off the men who don't want to go. Those'll have to take their chances with the government, though I imagine necessity will force it to be lenient. Set a rendezvous at some extremely distant star. None of your craft will likely be pursued much past the border if they happen to be detected.

  "Go a long way, McCormac, as far as you possibly can. Find a new planet. Found a new society. Never come back."

  The admiral raised himself too. "I can't abandon my responsibilities," he groaned.

  "You did that when you rebelled," Flandry said. "Your duty is to save what you can, and live the rest of your life knowing what you wrought here. Maybe the act of leading people to a fresh beginning, maybe that'll console you." I'm sure it will in time. You have a royal share of self-righteousness. "And Kathryn. She wants to go. She wants it very badly." He caught McCormac's gaze. "If ever a human being had a right to be taken from this civilization, she does."

  McCormac blinked hard.

  "Never come back," Flandry repeated. "Don't think of recruiting a barbarian host and returning. You'd be the enemy then, the real enemy. I want your word of honor on that. If you don't give it to me, and to Kathryn, she won't be allowed to rejoin you, whatever you may do to me." I lie like a wet rag. "If you do give it, and break it, she will not pardon you."

  "In spite of your behavior, you are an able leader. You're the one man who can hope to carry the emigration off, in as short a while as you have to inform, persuade, organize, act. Give me your word, and Kathryn will ride back in my gig to you."

  McCormac covered his face. "Too sudden. I can't—"

  "Well, let's thresh out a few practical questions first, if you like. I've pondered various details beforehand."

  "But—I couldn't—"

  "Kathryn is your woman, all right," Flandry said bitterly. "Prove to me that you're her man."

  She was waiting at the airlock. The hours had circled her like wolves. He wished that his last sight of her could be without that anguish and exhaustion.

  "Dominic?" she whispered.

  "He agreed," Flandry told her. "You can go to him."

  She swayed. He caught her and held her. "Now, now," he said clumsily, nigh to tears. He stroked the bright tousled hair. "Now, now, it's ended, we've won, you and I—" She slumped. He barely kept her from falling.

  With the dear weight in his arms, he went to sickbay, laid her down and administered a stimulol injection. Color appeared in seconds, her lashes fluttered, the green eyes found him. She sat erect. "Dominic!" she cried. Weeping had harshened her voice. "'Tis true?"

  "See for yourself," he smiled. "Uh, take care, though. I gave you a minimum shot. You'll have a stiff metabolic price to pay as is."

  She came to him, still weary and shaken. Their arms closed. They kissed for a long time.

  "I wish," she said brokenly, "I almost wish—"

  "Don't." He drew her head into the curve of his shoulder.

  She stepped back. "Well, I wish you everything good there'll ever be, startin' with the girl who's really right for you."

  "Thanks," he said. "Have no worries on my score. It's been worth any trouble I may have had," and ever will have. "Don't delay, Kathryn. Go to him."

  She did. He sought the conn, where he could see the boat carry her off and await McCormac's technicians.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Strange suns enclouded Persei. A darkness aft hid the last glimpse of Imperial stars.

  McCormac closed the suite door behind him. Kathryn rose. Rest, first under sedation, later under tranquilization, and medicine and nourishment had made her beautiful. She wore a gray shimmerlyn robe somebody had given her, open at throat and calf, sashed at the waist, smooth over the strong deep curves.

  He stopped short. "I didn't expect you here yet!" he blurted.

  "The medics released me," she answered, "seein' as how I'd come to happy news." Her smile was tremulous.

  "Well . . . yes," he said woodenly. "We've verified that we shook those scouts dogging us, by our maneuvers inside that nebula. They'll never find us in uncharted interstellar space. Not that they'd want to, I'm sure. It'd be too risky, sending the power needed to deal with us as far as we're going. No, we're done with them, unless we return."

  Shocked, she exclaimed: "You won't! You promised!"

  "I know. Not that I mightn't—if—no, don't fear. I won't. Flandry was right, damn him, I'd have to raise allies, and those allies would have to be offered what it would split the Empire to give. Let's hope the threat that I may try again will force them to govern better . . . back there."

  Her strickenness told him how much remained for her before the old calm strength was regained: "Dyuba, you'd think 'bout politics and fightin' in this hour?"

  "I apologize," he said. "Nobody warned me you were coming. And I have been preoccupied."

  She reached him, but they did not embrace. "That preoccupied?" she asked.

  "Why, why, what do you mean? See here, you shouldn't be standing more than necessary. Let's get you seated. And, er, we'll have to arrange for the sleeping quarters to be remodeled—"

  She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she had command of herself. "Poor Hugh," she said. "You're scarred right badly too. I should've thought how you must've hurt."

  "Nonsense." He urged her toward the couch.

  She resisted in such a manner that his arms went around her. Laying hers about his neck and her cheek against his breast, she said, "Wait. You were tryin' to 'scape thinkin' 'bout us. 'Bout what I can be to you, after everything that was done. 'Bout whether the things I'm leavin' untold concernin' what passed 'tween Dominic and m
e, if they didn't include—But I've sworn they didn't."

  "I cannot doubt you," rumbled through her.

  "No, you're too honorable not to try hard to believe me, not to try hard to rebuild what we had. Poor Hugh, you're scared you might not be able."

  "Well—associations, of course—" His clasp stiffened.

  "I'll help you if you'll help me. I need it bad's you do."

  "I understand," he said, gentler.

  "No, you don't, Hugh," she replied gravely. "I realized the truth while I was alone, recuperatin', nothin' to do but think in a weird clear way till I'd fall asleep and the dreams came. I'm 'bout as well over what happened to me in the palace as I'll ever be. I'm the one to cure you of that. But you'll have to cure me of Dominic, Hugh."

  "Oh, Kathryn!" he said into her hair.

  "We'll try," she murmured. "We'll succeed, anyhow in part, anyhow enough to live. We must."

  Vice Admiral Sir Ilya Kheraskov riffled the papers on his desk. The noise went from end to end of his office. Behind him, the projection screen today held an image of Saturn.

  "Well," he said, "I've perused your account, and other relevant data, quite intensely since you arrived home. You were a busy young man, Lieutenant Commander."

  "Yes, sir," said Flandry. He had taken a chair, but thought best to give the impression of sitting at attention.

  "I regret leave was denied you and you've been made to spend the whole two weeks in Luna Prime. Must have been frustrating, the fleshpots of Terra glowing right overhead. But any number of irregularities had to be checked out."

  "Yes, sir."

  Kheraskov chuckled. "Stop worrying. We'll put you through assorted rituals, but I can tell you in confidence, you're off the hook and your brevet rank of commander will be made permanent. Till your next escapade gets you either broken or promoted, that is. I'd call the odds fifty-fifty."

  Flandry leaned back. "Thank you, sir."

  "You seem a touch disappointed," Kheraskov remarked. "Did you anticipate more?"

  "Well, sir—"

  Kheraskov cocked his head and grinned wider. "You ought to be effusive at me. I'm responsible for your getting this much. And I had to work for it!"

  He drew breath. "True," he said, "your obtaining the code was an exploit which justifies overlooking a great deal else. But the else is such a very great deal. Besides losing Asieneuve on a trip most kindly described as reckless, you staged other performances which were high-handed at best, in gross excess of your authority at worst. Like removing the sector governor's prisoner on your own warrant; and conveying her with you; and concealing her presence on your return; and heading back out with her; and losing her to the enemy . . . . I'm afraid, Flandry, regardless of what rank you may gain, you'll never have another command."

  That's no punishment. "Sir," Flandry said, "my report justifies whatever I did as according to regulations. So will the testimony of the men who served under me."

  "Taking the most liberal interpretation of your discretionary rights that man, xeno, or computer can conceive of . . . yes, perhaps. But mainly, you rascal, I argued and politicked on your behalf because the Intelligence Corps needs you."

  "Again I thank the admiral."

  Kheraskov shoved the cigar box forward. "Take one," he said, "and show your gratitude by telling me what really happened."

  Flandry accepted. "It's in my report, sir."

  "Yes, and I know a weasel when one slinks by me. For instance—I read from the abstract of this wonderful document you wrote—ahem. 'Soon after leaving with Lady McCormac for Terra, with minimal crew for the sake of speed and secrecy as per orders, I was unfortunately noted and overhauled by an enemy cruiser which captured me. Brought to the flagship at Satan, I was surprised to find the rebels so discouraged that, upon learning Admiral Pickens had their code, they decided to flee the Empire. Lady McCormac prevailed upon them to spare me and my Didonian hand, leaving us behind with a disabled vessel. After the loyalists arrived, I discharged and returned home the said Didonian with the promised reward, then set course for Terra—' Well, no matter that." Kheraskov peered over the page. "Now what's the mathematical probability of a prowling cruiser just happening to come in detection range of you?"

  "Well, sir," Flandry said, "the improbable has to happen sometimes. It's too bad the rebels wiped the computer's log in the course of removing my ship's hyperdrive. I'd have proof. But my account by itself ought to carry conviction."

  "Yes, you build a very solid, interlocking pile of reasons, most of them unverifiable, why you had to do what you did and nothing else. You could spend your whole voyage back from Sector Alpha Crucis developing them. Be honest. You deliberately sought out Hugh McCormac and warned him about the code, didn't you?"

  "Sir, that would have been high treason."

  "Like doing away with a governor you didn't approve of? It's curious that he was last seen a short while before you cleared for departure."

  "Much was going on, sir," Flandry said. "The city was in turmoil. His Excellency had personal enemies. Any one of them could have seen a chance to pay off scores. If the admiral suspects me of wrongdoing, he can institute proceedings to have me hypnoprobed."

  Kheraskov sighed. "Never mind. You know I won't. For that matter, nobody's going to search after possible witnesses, rebels who may have elected to stay behind. Too big a job for too small a gain. As long as they keep their noses clean, we'll let them fade back into the general population. You're home free, Flandry. I'd simply hoped—But maybe it's best that I myself don't inquire too deeply. Do light your cigar. And we might send for a real potation. Do you like Scotch?"

  "Love it, sir!" Flandry got the tobacco going and inhaled its perfume.

  Kheraskov spoke an order on his intercom, leaned forward with elbows on desk, and blew clouds of his own. "Tell me one thing, though, prodigal son," he begged, "in exchange for my wholesale slaughter of fatted calves wearing stars and nebulas. Plain avuncular curiosity on my part. You have extended leave coming as soon as we can tie up the red tape. Where and how does your twisted ingenuity suggest you spend it?"

  "Among those fleshpots the admiral mentioned," Flandry replied promptly. "Wine, women, and song. Especially women. It's been a long time."

  Aside from such fun and forgetting, he thought while he grinned, it will be the rest of my life.

  But she's happy. That's enough.

  ———————

  I/we remember.

  The Feet is old now, slow to travel, aching in flesh when the mists creep around a longhouse that stands at the bottom of a winter night. The Wings that was of Many Thoughts is blind, and sits alone in his head save when a young one comes to learn. The Wings that was of Cave Discoverer and Woe is today in another of Thunderstone. The Hands of Many Thoughts and Cave Discoverer has long left his bones in the western mountains, whereto the Hands that was of Woe has long returned. Yet the memory lives. Learn, young Hands, of those who made oneness before i/we came to being.

  It is more than the stuff of song, dance, and rite. No longer may We of this communion feel that Our narrow lands are the whole of the world. Beyond jungle and mountains is the sea; beyond heaven are those stars that Cave Discoverer dreamed of and Woe beheld. And there are the strangers with single bodies, they who visit Us rarely for trade and talk, but of whom We hear ever oftener as We in Our new search for enlightenment explore further among foreign communions. Their goods and their doings will touch Us more and more as the years pass, and will also make changes elsewhere than in Thunderstone, which changes will cause time to stream back across Us in different currents from that steadiness which i/we hitherto found easiest to imagine.

  Beyond this and greater: How shall We achieve oneness with the whole world unless We understand it?

  Therefore lie down at ease, young Hands, old Feet and Wings. Let wind, river, light, and time flow through. Be at rest, whole, in my/yourself, so gaining the strength that comes from peace, the strength to remember and to seek wisdom.

/>   Be not afraid of the strangers with single bodies. Terrible are their powers, but those We can someday learn to wield like them if we choose. Rather pity that race, who are not beasts but can think, and thus know that they will never know oneness.

  CHRONOLOGY OF TECHNIC CIVILIZATION

  COMPILED BY SANDRA MIESEL

  The Technic Civilization series sweeps across five millennia and hundreds of light-years of space to chronicle three cycles of history shaping both human and non-human life in our corner of the universe. It begins in the twenty-first century, with recovery from a violent period of global unrest known as the Chaos. New space technologies ease Earth's demand for resources and energy permitting exploration of the Solar system.

  ca. 2055

  "The Saturn Game" (Analog Science Fiction, hereafter ASF, February, 1981)

  22nd C

  The discovery of hyperdrive makes interstellar travel feasible early in the twenty-second century. The Breakup sends humans off to colonize the stars, often to preserve cultural identity or to try a social experiment. A loose government called the Solar Commonwealth is established. Hermes is colonized.

  "Wings of Victory" (ASF, April, 1972)

  The Grand Survey from Earth discovers alien races on Yithri, Merseia, and many other planets.

  23rd C

  The Polesetechnic League is founded as a mutual protection association of space-faring merchants.

  Colonization of Aeneas and Altai.

  24th C

  "The Problem of Pain" (Fantasy and Science Fiction, February, 1973)

  Nicholas van Rijn born poor on Earth

  Colonization of Vixen.

  Council of Hiawatha, a futile attempt to reform the League.

  Colonization of Dennitza.