by David Drake
“That won’t be necessary, Hogg,” Daniel said. “They’re the crew of the Savoy, I believe, and I need them healthy.”
He coughed into his cupped palm and added, “You gentlemen are willing to serve me ably and willingly, aren’t you? I’ll be Mistress Lindstrom’s acting captain, you see.”
The answers were muffled by muck and fear, but Daniel was sure that they were all some variation of “Yes, sir!”
“Very good,” he said. “Now you may stand up.”
The spacers took their time about it. It appeared that they were afraid that the first head to rise was going to be clouted back down as a reminder.
Daniel grinned. He wasn’t that sort of person, but Hogg had been known to deliver lessons of that type. Not now, though.
“Very good,” Daniel repeated. The men wouldn’t meet his eyes, but that would come. “Now, which of you knows where Mistress Lindstrom will be at this time of day?”
The tallest of the four wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I guess she’d be in the bar of the Criterion,” he mumbled. “I mean, that’s where she is most nights we’re in port here.”
“Then,” said Daniel, “you go and ask her to come back to the Savoy ASAP, where the rest of us will be waiting. Understood?”
“Yessir!” the man said. He looked behind him, then hesitated.
“Hop it, buddy!” Hogg said. “Or I’ll show you how a length of wire can cut your throat right down to the spine!”
The spacer bolted down the alley in the other direction. No doubt he would be able to find Lindstrom’s hotel in good time.
“Now — ” said Daniel.
“One moment, young master,” Hogg said. He wasn’t asking permission. “We have one more thing to do. Now, “hobby,” what Petey-boy called me. That’s short for “hobnailed booby.” That’s right, ain’t it?”
“I believe so, yes,” Daniel said. He was being deliberately nonchalant. “A term for a countryman. An insulting term.”
“Right,” said Hogg. “Well, I’m a countryman, sure enough, but I’m not wearing hobnails because they don’t go with steel floors on a ship.”
He drew back his right leg as he turned to the sprawled Petrov. His boots were of the heavy-soled country style — but without the usual cleats, as he had said.
“Which is a bloody shame,” Hogg said. “But we’ll make do.”
He kicked Petrov in the face. It sounded like a maul striking a watermelon.
* * * *
The jitney that carried Adele was intended for four passengers but carried a dozen during most of its leisurely course through the city. The seats had been removed, but nonetheless the little vehicle was badly overfilled.
Initially Adele had wrapped her right arm around a window pillar and stood with one leg on the outside footrail and the other in the air. When a place to stand inside opened, she had taken it despite the determined opposition of a large woman with a day’s shopping in a string bag.
When the local had grasped Adele’s shoulder with the apparent intention of pulling her out, Adele had rapped the woman’s front teeth with the muzzle of her pistol. The woman had toppled backward with a shriek, spilling potatoes and unfamiliar fruit on the street around her.
The jitney started off, accelerating more slowly than a child on a tricycle. Adele put the pistol back into her pocket. The other passengers didn’t give her more room — they couldn’t — but they were obviously straining not to crowd her any more than they had to.
The local woman had been lucky. If Tovera had been present, she would have informed the woman that her behavior was discourteous. In all likelihood, the method Tovera used would have been less delicate than what Adele chose.
The jitney was approaching the western edge of the city. Instead of tenements, houses stood on their own lots with tall trees growing between them; deeper forest hung as a curtain beyond the dwellings. Flying creatures with translucent pastel wings fluttered out of the treetops, floated for a few moments in the sunlight, and disappeared into the foliage again.
The jitney stopped. The driver turned in his saddle and said to the four remaining passengers, “This is as far out as I’m going. Get off or go back with me.”
“You said you would take me to West Slough,” Adele said.
“Well, I was wrong,” the driver said. “Get off or go back, you hear?”
The man who had been standing beside Adele when she moved inside the vehicle now leaned forward and whispered something to the driver. The driver said, “What?”
He stared at Adele for a moment, then faced around and continued westward down the street. The jitney accelerated much more quickly with a reduced load.
About the distance of three blocks later — there was only one connecting street, a mud lane that made a T intersection with the main road — the jitney reached what Adele supposed was West Slough. The driver pulled around in a half circle and stopped; he studiously avoided turning to look at Adele as she and her fellow passengers got off.
Well, she hadn’t wanted to have a discussion with him. She walked to the pilings on the waterside and looked at her surroundings.
From orbital imagery Adele knew that the “slough” was actually a resaca, a loop of the river cut off when the channel shifted west. The Phoenix of Assumption, the colony ship which made the initial settlement on Madison, had landed here rather than in the ocean a few miles south, and Port Madison had grown up nearby.
The river had changed course during the thousand-year Hiatus following the war between Earth and her principal colonies. When star travel resumed on Madison, the port had been relocated to an artificial harbor on the ocean, and Ashetown had shifted south as well. What remained was called West Ashetown, but most of the original warehouses and tenements had sunk into the muck.
The colony ship remained, however, as a museum and a library of pre-Hiatus documents on a man-made island created by a coffer dam. A causeway connected the island to this shore, and a few water taxis were tied to bollards along the waterfront for those who needed to cross the resaca; occasionally the mist cleared and Adele glimpsed buildings on the other side.
To Adele’s surprise, the development along the waterside wasn’t merely a slum, though there were a number of wooden hovels which would have looked abandoned were it not for ragged people sprawling in doorways or against the walls. There were several apartment blocks of plasticized earth, their ground floors given over to shops and restaurants, and a certain amount of light industry as well. A metal-roofed shed to the right was a repair garage which sheltered several partly disassembled vehicles; glimpsed in a blurred fashion through the mist to the left was a barge drawn up to a large building.
Adele had found reference to some regional offices being moved to compartments on the Phoenix. They were apparently funding a renaissance of sorts for the neighborhood.
She started across the causeway. It had recently been repaired by pouring a sheet of some synthetic onto the gravel surface. Adele reached for her data unit, then decided to leave it in its pocket. She continued on. She would check when she was within the ship and had a dry place to sit.
She was wearing a nondescript business suit. Her only concession to her supposed Kostroman nobility was that the fabric was russet with thin black piping on the seams of the jacket, the colors of the House of Hrynko.
She had considered going with an escort as she had to the sector headquarters, but she didn’t want to attract attention and she did want to think. The chatter of a dozen Sissies wouldn’t have disturbed her, but the feeling of responsibility for them would have been a serious problem.
Adele had too much experience now to doubt the kind of trouble which bored spacers were likely to get into. Escorting spacers were certainly going to be bored as they waited on a mudbank while the mistress indulged her love of old books.
Animals squeaked, shrilled, and boomed from the vegetation at the water’s edge and covering the shallows to a distance out from the shore. The creatures
ranged down in size from the length of Adele’s palm and extended fingers to smaller than her thumb joint, but they were all on the same pattern: lizard-like bodies with powerful hind legs and pipe-stem arms which they folded against their torsos except when snatching food.
I’ll have to tell Daniel, Adele thought. Her interest in natural history had initially been academic, but she had so often listened to Daniel’s enthusiasm or looked things up for him that she was gaining an appreciation of the subject.
Some of the creatures were fully visible on mats of the weed; others clung to the causeway’s pilings. One even scampered ahead of her along the railing, swaying its head and tail side to side to balance the thrust of its legs.
A pair of office workers approached from the other direction, chatting to one another. The little animal rose on tiptoe, then hurled itself off the rail with its legs windmilling furiously. Its feet had bright scarlet webs. Perhaps they slowed the creature’s descent, because Adele heard only a gentle plop! as it hit the water.
The Phoenix towered overhead as Adele approached. The ship was a sphere, a volume-efficient design with a score of serious disadvantages which Adele knew from discussions with RCN officers. A ship even of this enormous size would today be cylindrical, but such globes had been common before the Hiatus.
The Phoenix had brought ten thousand settlers to Madison, having kept them alive during a voyage of fourteen months. Adele smiled faintly. Alive, but probably not very happy.
Well, Adele had endured conditions no better than those of the colonists during the years she lived in the slums of Blythe City on Bryce. Her teacher and mentor, Mistress Boileau, had done what she could, but not even the director of the Academic Collections could arrange more than a minimal stipend for a Cinnabar citizen in the midst of all-out war between Cinnabar and the Alliance.
The would-be colonists had hope before them; the orphan Adele Mundy had seen nothing better ahead of her except death. But things had become better after all, better for the person the real Adele was, than they would have been had her life gone in the track she had expected while she was growing up as the studious daughter of a powerful Cinnabar political leader.
Adele had the whole RCN as a family, and she had Daniel Leary for a friend. Her father had had power, but he had neither friends nor family in the sense that Adele had come to understand the words.
The artificial island around the Phoenix had been turned into a garden with walkways through its plantings. Adele thought, Daniel would know whether the trees are native species.
She reached for her data unit, thinking, Well, all I have to do is find the catalogue of the garden’s holdings and compare it to the database of species native to Madison.
She caught herself again. This time she came as close to laughing as she had done in weeks or longer. I’m not in competition with Daniel. If I decide that I have to compete with him, I should focus on a skill like clambering about the rigging. That would have some practical application.
An aircar approached from the mainland side. Adele wasn’t particularly interested in vehicles, but she looked at this one, an enclosed gray six-place car, because it drove low and near the causeway. The only passenger sat behind the driver. He eyed Adele as he passed.
If Tovera were here, Adele thought, she would step between me and the car — and she would have her hand on the submachine gun in her attaché case.
Adele didn’t reach into her left tunic pocket, but she consciously didn’t reach into it. She wasn’t as paranoid as Tovera, but she knew that she could get into that state very easily if she didn’t constantly fight the tendency.
The aircar slowed and turned inward when it crossed the wall protecting the island. The causeway ended in a circular plaza from which narrow paths led into the garden while a broad one continued to the starship’s entrance. The pavement was probably synthetic, but it was patterned to mimic brick.
The driver angled the car between two of the stone benches set around the perimeter of the plaza. It settled, and a guard at the entry port a hundred feet away shouted angrily.
The driver idled his fans; the passenger, a short, tubby man, got out of the back and walked toward Adele. His hair was intensely black even over a swarthy complexion.
The guard shouted again and started toward them; he wasn’t armed, so that wasn’t an immediate problem. Adele lifted her pistol; she didn’t bring it out of her pocket quite yet.
“Lady Hrynko?” the little man called. He was twenty feet away and coming closer with short, quick steps. “I am Liber Osorio, the Cremonan trade attaché here on Madison. Can we go somewhere to discuss a business proposition?”
“No,” said Adele. She thought for a moment. “If you’d care to sit on one of these benches, though — ”
She gestured with her right hand. Pedestrians were walking around them, and the guard was coming closer. He had taken a communicator out of its belt pocket.
“ — I’ll give you a few minutes.”
Osorio turned and shouted to his driver, “Go to the other side of the water and wait for us.”
The car lifted. It hovered for a moment, then obediently drove over the water toward the mainland side at a moderate pace.
The benches were backless, slightly curved, and about six feet wide. She sat on the left end of the closest and gestured Osorio toward the midpoint when he tried to sit closer to her.
Adele said, “Before you tell me your proposition, Master Osorio, explain how you happened to meet me here.”
Her hand was still in her pocket.
CHAPTER 10
West Ashetown
“I didn’t mean to surprise you, Lady Hrynko,” Osorio said, smiling at Adele; he spread his hands to his sides to echo his mouth’s curve. “I had you watched so that I could speak with you without arousing the comment which would ensue were I to visit your yacht, that is all. I must say — ”
He gestured toward her, probably meaning to indicate her simple costume.
“ — I wasn’t expecting to find you alone.”
“I am incognito,” Adele snapped. “I am here to bathe my soul in the artifacts of Ancient Man!”
She couldn’t imagine a real Kostroman Principal saying that, but she had been on Kostroma long enough to have seen equally — if differently — eccentric behavior among the clan leaders. She thought it would sound bizarre but believable to Osorio; which appeared to be the case.
“You are clearly a person of great refinement, Lady Hrynko,” the little man said, dipping in a seated bow. “As I said, I am my planet’s trade representative here, a position which requires a relatively coarse outlook. I ask your pardon for that. But — ”
He gestured to the sides again. His smile made Adele want to slap him.
“ — I too have a spiritual side. I dream of a free Sunbright. I am one of a group of like-minded souls on Cremona who are working to help the citizens of Sunbright throw off the yoke of Alliance domination. We hope that you will be willing to aid us — for a fair price, I emphasize. You are a stranger in this region and cannot be expected to care about the hopes of us and our neighbors.”
Adele didn’t speak for a moment. I shouldn’t be offended by this — he believes I’m who I claim to be, after all. But does he think I’m brain damaged or a child?
Aloud she said, “You’re talking nonsense. If you have a proposal consistent with my honor, make it. Otherwise . . .”
She sniffed and let her voice trail off.
Osorio bowed at the waist again. “Yes, of course, Your Ladyship,” he said equably. “We Friends of Sunbright are Cremonese citizens who have banded together to provide supplies to the Sunbright freedom fighters. The Alliance Funnel Squadron attempts to capture our ships — our ships and those of like-minded shippers — over Sunbright, but this is a difficult task and the blockaders are rarely successful. You understand this, Your Ladyship?”
He must think that I’m a moron, Adele marveled silently. Or else he has a lower opinion of foreigners than
even Hogg does.
She sniffed again. Kostroma was a far more sophisticated place than anything she had heard about Cremona.
“Yes, I understand,” Adele said. “Explain what that has to do with me?”
“Now, most of the ships and supplies running the Sunbright blockade,” Osorio said, “come through Madison here even though they make the final approach from Cremona. Madison is a major trading world; we on Cremona do not have either the industry or the volume of shipping to supply the materials needed by the freedom fighters.”
Or to broker the pink rice, Adele thought. Cremona didn’t have a planetary government so much as it did a club in which members of a criminal gang got together to brag and to discuss further banditry.
“Why doesn’t the Funnel administration discuss the matter with their colleagues here on Madison?” Adele said, helping to keep things moving along. “Surely if the Forty Stars Squadron cooperates with the Funnel Squadron, they can end their problem easily. They can end your blockade running, that is.”
Osorio tried to laugh lightly, but Adele was pleased to hear an underlying note of strain. Granted that the fellow wasn’t patronizing Lady Mundy, she still found his attitude irritating.
Was there any adult too stupid to realize that the Friends of Sunbright were profiteers who were getting rich by supplying the rebels? If the Alliance forces had needed arms, the Friends would willingly have supplied them. The bloodshed was of no concern to them.
Adele shrugged. The bloodshed didn’t particularly concern her either. She had shed a fair amount of it herself over the years.
“Mistress?” Osorio said in confusion.
“I was thinking of something else,” Adele said, regretting that she had allowed her expression to change, a visible warning. “I was thinking that fighting, whether for freedom or not, is likely to lead to death.”
Her lips — barely — smiled. “But since everything leads to death,” she said, “that doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Ah,” Osorio said. He cleared his throat and said, “Well. You were asking about the Forty Stars Squadron cooperating with the Funnel blockade. This will not happen. The authorities hate each other! Sector Administrator Braun here is pleased to see the trouble Kolpach of the Funnel is having. But there is a better reason!”
