Poul Anderson - Shield

by Shield (Lit)

  Vivienne had already slipped money into Koskinen's pocket. "Give him a fat tip," she breathed tenderly in his ear. Still dazed, aware mostly of her, he nodded. "Oh, my," she laughed, "I must look like a perfect mutie."

  "You look beautiful," he faltered.

  She took the generator and went out. He paid off the cabman, who winked and muttered, "You're a lucky one today, aren't you?" his eyes on Vivienne's provocatively retreating back rather than Koskinen's undistinguished face. The taxi threaded its way among the several private cars parked on the flange, bounced aloft, and headed toward Manhattan.

  Koskinen followed the woman up the ramp to a terrace. There brooklets tinkled through beds of moss and banks of rosebushes, wet with dew. Vivienne had paused beneath the pale red fire of a flowering plum tree. She was looking across the gardens below, to the dazzling beach and breakers, water that glittered green and gulls that wheeled snow-colored in the wind.

  He ventured to lay an arm around her waist. She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'd almost forgotten how lovely Earth can be," she murmured.

  "I've just started to learn . . . from you," he surprised himself by answering.

  She chuckled. "You learn pretty quick, Pete, I must say."

  A footfall scrunched on gravel. They turned, instantly alert. There had been no attendants on the landing flange, but the man in the control tower had evidently noticed strangers getting off and suggested that the guards check on them. The man who neared wore no uniform—in this stratum of society there was no need for ostentation—and he walked leisurely, with a smile on his mouth. But Koskinen recognized trained muscles when he saw them in motion; and there was a minicom on the wrist.

  "Good morning, sir," he hailed. "Can I be of service?"

  "Yes," Koskinen said. "I'd like to see Mr. Abrams."

  "Sir?" The guard raised skeptical brows.

  "My name is Koskinen. I was a shipmate of David Abrams, and I've got some news that will interest his father.''

  Professional calm broke in an oath not quite suppressed. "Of course, Mr. Koskinen! Right away! He's still asleep, I think, but—— Follow me, please."

  Koskinen took the generator from Vivienne and slung it on his shoulder by one strap. She tugged at his hand, holding him back, as the guard started away. He saw the tension in her, and realized with a sudden hollowness that she had stopped thinking about the taxi ride.

  "What's going on, Pete?" she whispered unsteadily. "I've heard of Nathan Abrams. Isn't he a big man in General Atomics? What are you coming to him for?"

  "Don't you remember that MS has got his son incommunicado? I think he'll be more than glad to help us. We have a common cause."

  "You idiot!" she exploded under her breath. "Don't you think MS knows that too?"

  "Oh, yes. Doubtless they've had him under surveillance. It was a risk coming here. But not too big a risk. They can't watch everything, especially right now when their hands must be full cleaning out the Chinese organization that tipped its hand at the Crater. Because we did escape, you see, and so the Chinese couldn't have made a fast getaway of their own, they must have lost time searching that warren for us, and that would have given MS time to learn about the affair and intervene. Only MS would've had to pull in every local agent, I should think, on such short notice. I'm quite sure there's no stakeout here at the moment."

  "Unless MS has agents in the household."

  "I doubt that too. Dave often told me that his father had spent years building up a staff loyal to nun personally. All the big executives do. It's necessary, in this wolf kennel world we've got."

  "M-m ... well... the fact that we haven't yet been nabbed does seem to bear out your reasoning." She looked at him so searchingly that his own eyes must drop. "Good work. A professional couldn't have thought faster on his feet. You know, kid, you catch on to things so quickly that it scares me. But come on, the guard's waiting for us."

  They were conducted through a sliding vitryl door into the building. A fountain splashed twenty feet high in the middle of the solarium beyond. Koskinen saw that its starkly beautiful basin had been fashioned from a spaceship's meteorite baffle. The pouring water, the brilliant morning light, the smell of lilies growing in beds on the flagged floor, brought the whole great room alive. But his attention focused on the man who hurried to meet them.

  It was not the elder Abrams, but a stocky, grizzled person, dressed in a plain blue zipsuit, whom the guard addressed deferentially. After a moment's conference, the newcomer dismissed the other man and approached. His face was older than his athletic gait, with skin drawn tight over broad cheekbones and beaky nose but deeply lined around mouth and eyes. Koskinen had seldom met so intense a gaze. The handclasp was hard. He introduced himself and Vivienne.

  "I'm Jan Trembecki, Mr. Abrams's confidential secretary. He'll be along in a few minutes. Won't you sit down?" The English was fluent but accented.

  "Thanks." Koskinen began to realize how tired he was. He nearly fell into a lounger and let it mold itself to hips and ribs. Vivienne lowered herself more gracefully, but shivering with exhaustion. Trembecki considered them. "How about some breakfast?" he asked, punched an intercom button and spoke an order.

  Returning, he offered cigarettes. Vivienne accepted, drawing the smoke far into her lungs and letting it out as if reluctantly. Trembecki sat on the edge of a lounger and puffed his own cigarette in short ferocious drags.

  "I take it you escaped from MS," he said. When Koskinen nodded; "Well, we may be able to hide you—or we may not—but let's be blunt. Why should we? We've got troubles enough."

  "I may have help for you," Koskinen answered. He pointed to the generator. "That's the reason for this whole mess."

  "Ah, so." Trembecki grew altogether expressionless. "We've had some inklings of that, from our own efforts to investigate."

  "Do you think Dave is... all right?"

  "I don't expect anything permanently damaging has been done to him. Doubtless he's been Pl'd, but if he doesn't have any special knowledge—does he?" The question spat like a bullet. Koskinen started before he shook his head. "Good. In that case, Dave is mainly a sort of hostage. Therefore he has to be preserved intact. To be sure, that ties our own hands quite a bit."

  "What have you been trying to do? Couldn't you——Mr. Abrams should be able to, oh, even get the President's ear."

  "He will, in due course. That takes time, though, no matter how prominent one is. Especially since the President's staff can find ways to stall if they're put to it. And they no doubt have been. Every government employee is terrified of MS; a bad report can cost you your job, or worse, in Washington."

  "But the President himself——"

  "Yes, we're lucky there. He's a libertarian by conviction. However, he's responsible for the security of the United States, which nowadays means the stability of the Protectorate. MS is indispensable to that. So Marcus can get away with almost anything."

  "But the President can fire Marcus!"

  "Things aren't that simple, my friend. You have to respect the integrity of a government organization, or you'll soon have no government whatsoever. Furthermore, every leader has to make compromises; otherwise he'd set everybody against him and get nothing accomplished. Read some history. Consider how Lincoln had to put up with all the foolishness in his Cabinet, not to mention a fantastic series of leatherheaded commanding generals. Or the uneasy balance between Stalinists and anti-Stalinists in the old Soviet Union. Or—— never mind. It boils down to the fact that the President can't fire Marcus unless extreme wrongdoing can be proven, and can't countermand any orders given MS unless he and Congress are convinced the orders were utterly mistaken."

  "Maybe we can convince him," Koskinen said.

  "Maybe. Hard to do through legal, public channels, though. And if we commit illegalities ourselves—like sheltering a fugitive from, shall we say, justice—we compromise our case rather badly."

  Koskinen let his muscles slump. For a while only the founta
in spoke.

  "Ah, refreshments."

  Koskinen opened his eyes with a shocked realization that he had been asleep. A servitor halted and uncovered its table. Koskinen looked at coffee, orange juice, French rolls, butter, cheese, caviar, an iced bottle of Vodka. Trembecki handed nun and Vivienne a couple of stimpills. "Better take these first," he suggested. "You'll enjoy the food more."

  "Also," Vivienne said grimly, "we'll need our brains in good shape.''

  They had hardly begun when two figures appeared in the inner entrance. Trembecki rose. "Sorry to postpone your breakfast," he said, "but here's the boss."

  XI

  Nathan Abrams was not a tall man, and he was getting somewhat bald and plump. The bathrobe swirled almost ludicrously about his pajamaed legs as he turned in his pacing. But Koskinen had never before seen so great an anger on so tight a leash.

  A little hoarse with talking, he sat back and listened to his host. "Good Lord," Abrams said through his teeth, "I had some notion of how much rottenness there is around, but when the thing comes out in the open like this, it's past time to fight!"

  "Using what for weapons?" Trembecki asked.

  Abrams's hand chopped in the direction of the shield unit. "There's that, to start with."

  "Take quite a while to produce enough and organize a group."

  "And meanwhile Dave——" Leah Abrams's voice wavered. As if to give herself something to do, she began putting food on the plates. "I'm sorry," she said to Koskinen and Vivienne. "You must be starved."

  In spite of everything, Koskinen's look and mind turned to her. He had naturally known about Dave's sister, but she was only fifteen when the Boas departed. He had not expected to find someone slim and supple, gray eyes, freckles dusted faintly across a piquant nose, reddish-brown hair falling softly to her shoulders, a dancer's way of walking. She must have considerable backbone too, he thought. Abrams had not yet told his wife about this meeting, he didn't know if she could stand it, but his daughter had come along as a matter of course.

  Besides, it was good of her to remember about breakfast. He was starved. Still he hesitated, while Abrams stood and fought himself. The girl seemed to read his thought. "Go ahead," she urged. "You needn't pretend that our troubles have spoiled your appetite. As a matter of fact, I think I'll have a bite myself."

  Vivienne smiled. "You're too tactful for your own good. But thanks, Miss Abrams."

  "Lean, if you don't mind. We're in the same army now."

  "I'm not so sure of that," Trembecki said.

  "What do you mean, Jan?" Abrams demanded.

  "Well——"

  "I wasn't proposing anything rash, you know. We want Dave back first of all, and everyone else from the ship. We've got to proceed cautiously. But sooner or later, maybe we'll have to——" Abrams broke off.

  Trembecki finished for him hi a brutal tone: ' Tight against our own government?''

  "Well . . . against Marcus, at least. This puts the capper on everything I'd known about the man previously. I tell you, he's a power maniac, and he's got to be stopped."

  "Let's drop the swear words, Nat," Trembecki said. "Neo-fascism doesn't come out of nowhere, any more than Caesarism does. That's what we've got now, Caesarism, modified only slightly by the fact that it arose in a republic more sophisticated than Rome was. But it arose as the answer to a very real need, survival in the thermonuclear age. You don't want to overthrow Caesar if the price is a civil war that weakens us for the barbarians.''

  "I wasn't thinking of any such nonsense!"

  "It was implicit, though, Nat. In a subtler form, perhaps: less an outright revolt than a disruption of a precarious balance of social forces. Which could mean economic chaos. When that happens—when a society fails to provide for its own internal needs—the way is open for total dictatorship. The popular will demands a strong man then. Freedom isn't worth seeing your children starve. Not to most people, anyhow.

  "Marcus has millions of admirers precisely because you and your kind have failed to solve problems like foreign enmity, overpopulation, maldistribution, educational lag, and social vacuums. If now the American upper classes fall out among themselves, with even the mildest analogue of the Marius-Sulla rivalry, the failure will grow worse yet. Maybe Marcus could be destroyed, but he'd have successors who'd destroy us in turn. No, quite apart from all the practical difficulties in the way of our doing something big and melodramatic, we've got responsibilities that won't let us."

  "You weren't so shy about consequences when you helped take Krakow from that warlord," Abrams said bitterly.

  "I was a good deal younger then," Trembecki sighed, "and in any case the issues were simpler."

  Leah leaned over and whispered to Koskinen and Vivienne: "He's from Central Europe, did you know? Dad found him running a city in Poland and persuaded him to come work in the States."

  Koskinen regarded Trembecki with increased respect. The war and postwar years had been bad enough in America. But at least no foreign troops had invaded, to run amok and add to the chaos after the missiles destroyed their homeland. If, besides surviving and restoring order, this man had found time to become educated——

  "Don't get me wrong," Trembecki said. "I don't propose tamely to turn over this thing for Marcus to slap a 'security' label on and find ways to misuse. Frankly, I don't know how far we ourselves can be trusted with it. You're a decent man, Nat, and I suppose I am, but General Atomics isn't our private empire. With the best intentions in the world, given this kind of power, it could become something it shouldn't be.

  "Leaving that aside, though, you're disqualified from doing much precisely because you are so influential. Your actions are all too public for you to get involved in any elaborate conspiracy. You're simply going to have to stick to the aboveboard approach. Whatever you do clandestinely has to be a very, very minor part of your total activity, and amount to little more than keeping in touch with whoever is being active."

  "Ah-ha," Abrams pounced. "You admit there has to be a conspiracy.''

  "No. Maybe there does. Maybe not. This has happened so fast. I haven't had time to think."

  "You won't get much time, either," Vivienne reminded him bleakly.

  "With Marcus on the trail. . . true," the Pole nodded. "I don't see how we can hide you for any great length of time. However big a household this is, it's still not an organization. And that's what you need, an organization with intelligence agents, hideouts, an Underground Railway—yet one that can be trusted."

  Abrams snapped his fingers. "The Egalitarians!"

  "Hm?" Trembecki gave him a startled look. "You mean Gannoway?"

  "I don't know. But we can check on him, maybe."

  "I'm not sure what you mean," Leah said, "but if it has anything to do with the Egalitarians, why, it sounds very hopeful. I've been to plenty of their meetings, and talked to a lot of them, you know. Dad, those are good people."

  "Perhaps," Trembecki grunted. "Are they effective people, though?"

  "Gannoway himself is a tough bird," Abrams mused, "still ... we may have something here. It's taking a devil of a risk at best, but——" ruefully——"what isn't?"

  Trembecki nodded with a renewed briskness. "I'll start.some wheels turning, at least. We'll collect what information we can, evaluate, and decide what to do. It should be safe to keep our young friends here for a little while. The sooner we get them to a really secure place, though, the happier I'll be."

  "All right. Let's get started." Abrams turned to Koskinen and Vivienne. "I'm sorry to rush off like this, but you can understand why. We'll talk in more detail later. Meanwhile, Lean will take care of you."

  Trembecki went over to the shield generator, which Koskinen had demonstrated in the course of relating his story. The secretary picked it up with needless care, held it for a space before his eyes, clicked his tongue, and walked from the room. Abrams followed.

  "Do finish eating," Leah urged. "I'll see about your rooms and stuff. Be right back."

  Kos
kinen fell heartily to eating. In combination, the stimulant, food, shelter, sense of power and competence in those he met, had restored him considerable cheer. "I think," he said around a mouthful, "we're on the homestretch."

  "Really?" Vivienne only picked at her meal. He saw the exhaustion still in her and wanted to soothe it away. But his tongue knotted.

  "Sorry," she said after a while. "I guess I've been kicked around too much to start believing in Santa Claus all over again."

  "If Papa Abrams put on a white beard and went, 'Ho, ho, ho!' would that help?" he ventured.

  She grinned wearily, leaned over and patted his hand. "You mean you've even got patience with self-pity? You're a phenomenon, Pete.''

  Leah's footsteps sounded lightly on the flags. Koskinen rose and looked at the girl as she neared. He wondered confusedly if it was right to be so conscious of her grace, so soon after——

  "Finished here?" she asked. "Good, come along with me. You'll want to wash and then sleep, I suppose."

  "Not sleep," Koskinen said, "with fifty milligrams of stim inside me."

  "I'd forgotten that. Well, if you like, I'll be glad to give you the grand tour of the place, or any other entertainment I can.''

  "You're being too kind.''

  Leah grew grave. "You were Dave's shipmate, Pete. He talked a lot about you, in the short time he was here. And you've done some magnificent things, for him and for all of us."

  "No, really."

  "Not just that filthy Crater, but perhaps even the Chinese underground, wiped out . . . because of you." The long hair swirled past her cheeks as she shook her head in wonder. "I still can't quite believe it."

  "That was an accident. I mean, I was only running away, and——"

  "Come on." She took him firmly by the arm. Vivienne followed a little behind, silent.

  A glideway and escalator took them upstairs. Koskinen had thought his hotel room and Vivienne's Crater place were sumptuous, but his suite here revised his standards. He pottered about for half an hour making himself presentable. In the course of undressing he noticed the chain still around his neck. Have to get that taken off, he thought, but forgot about it again.