by Chris Bunch
Alarms shrilled across D-Cumbre, and the Force scrambled to full alert.
CHAPTER
7
The Musth ship was monstrous, dwarfing its escorts. It looked like an archaic artillery shell, with flying buttress-like “wings” tipped with smaller, manned “bullets” supporting, along with antigravity, the ship’s bulk. The Musth called it a striking-point-commander; humans might’ve typed it a command flagship. Since the Musth were never sentimental about machinery, it had only a number, not a name. It was Clanmaster Paumoto’s mobile headquarters.
It sat on one of the great landing fields of E-Cumbre, which the Musth called Silitric.
Silitric was E-normal, if a bit chilly for human comfort, with small oceans dotting the rolling tundra and low mountains. Virgin forest covered the heights. The Musth had only built three bases close to the mountains, half-underground, and only half-occupied at the busiest of times. Thus far, few Musth had found their interests leading them toward Cumbre.
In one of the ship’s conference places, Clanmaster Paumoto listened to Aesc and Wlencing. When they finished, he rose from his tail-brace and went to a view-screen, looking out at the subarctic landscape without seeing it, head darting back and forth as he thought.
Finally, he said, “I thank you for sharing this with me, even though I have no immediate interest in your actions.”
“Would you care to give us your opinions?” Aesc answered.
“Perhaps,” Paumoto said. “It might be of value if I make you aware of what is currently the thinking on our own worlds.
“Your actions in returning to Cumbre have been hailed by many. Keffa and his clique in particular are saying you are building the crossing to the inevitable future.
“Of course Senza and those of his ilk think you are bringing disaster on us, returning us to our barbaric past. You’ll probably be the cause of interstellar war between us and Man, and so on and so forth, and they want immediate withdrawal. None of which makes the slightest sense, but there are other Musth, motivated by their own concerns which follow different trails than yours, who agree with them.”
“Which side is growing stronger?” Aesc asked.
“I would hate to be held to an opinion,” Paumoto said. “But I would hazard a guess that there have been some of the 113 masters who favored your action who’ve retreated to the side of neutrality, and perhaps a few of the neutrals have decided to favor Senza’s course.”
“Then we are losing,” Wlencing said.
“Not necessarily,” Paumoto said. “But that is why I wished this conference to be on my ship, for I am assured it is completely sealed, and, while I’m confident you two share my views, I’m not so confident about other Musth, who might well be a link to Senza and his faction.”
“We are very interested in any help you might offer,” Aesc said.
“If something were to happen, some sort of incident,” Paumoto said carefully. “Something that shows the true depths of Man, something that would horrify our race to its base — ”
He broke off. Both Aesc and Wlencing had their mouths open, hissing from the backs of their throat, indicating amusement.
His ears cocked for an instant, then he understood.
“Ah. I am bringing salt to the ocean?”
“We have had exactly that idea,” Aesc said. “And since the men are being most uncooperative, we are trying to increase the possibilities of such an event.”
“We have moved down among them, establishing what they call consulates, as you suggested some time ago,” Wlencing explained. “We deliberately emplaced these in parts of their cities where we know, from our studies of Man’s patterns before the uprising, crime is most likely to occur, and the lower classes congregate.”
“Very clever,” Paumoto said. “Something happening to an underling, while unpleasant for them, could be most helpful to the rest of us.”
“Just so,” Wlencing said. “Unfortunately, we face a rather clever foe. Our idea seems to have been found out, and their soldiers are providing unobtrusive security to our people.”
It was Paumoto’s turn to be amused.
“So the leaper dances back and forth with his enemy,” he said, referring to a popular board game, “and larger pieces are stymied, and the game is in impasse.”
“I’m not sure it is that knotted,” Wlencing said. “Hardly beyond resolution.”
“We are moving very carefully,” Aesc said. “We want to make sure that, whatever incident occurs, there is no chance of it being, let us say, misinterpreted by Senza and his milk-drinkers.”
“Good,” Paumoto said. “Again, I appreciate your subtlety, System-Leader Aesc.”
“We could remain here all the planetary day,” Wlencing said, “using nice words to each other, while nothing happens except the sun moves. I have a question, Clan Leader. You say you have no immediate interest in the Cumbre system, yet you have visited us, without notice.
“I am hardly a cub, to assume you have done this merely from your innate desire to assist us.”
Again, Paumoto showed amusement.
“Of course not,” he agreed. “There are several contributing factors to my decision to visit Cumbre. I had already planned a periodic visit to some of the worlds I am involved with, and the jumps to Cumbre were not all that difficult to make. Another reason is that I have found the extraction of minerals of interest from time to time, and the geological reports on the riches of Cumbre are interesting.
“But there is a more pressing reason. Like you, I despise the direction Senza wishes for the Musth to take. He is an utter fool, who doesn’t realize a race, like a being, is either growing or dying.
“Only in expansion, continued expansion, to the limits of the universe, can the Musth fulfill their destiny, not to mention achieving the greatest personal benefits and satisfactions.
“The Cumbre system is but a beginning. If we hold here, if we reduce Man to his proper role of a humble servitor, the way lies open for us to expand into the worlds Man formerly held. We can follow the Confederation’s steps, avoiding worlds or systems that were not beneficial to them, and be handed golden world after world as our reward.
“No, I am hardly a fool who believes helping others without self-interest is sane.”
“Then,” Aesc said, “I have a suggestion, Clan Leader, on how you might assist us.”
“Short of murdering one of our own minorlings with a man-gun, I would be delighted,” Paumoto said.
“This ship is impressive. Perhaps we should announce a receiving on Man’s world for you, a well-known member of our ‘government,’ ” Wlencing said, putting the last word in Standard.
“I do not speak the tongue of Man,” Paumoto said.
“A government consists of an agreement they make among themselves, or else something another one imposes by force of arms, for all to behave in a certain manner for a prolonged period of time, supposedly for each other’s mutual good. The ultimate example is what they call the Confederation.”
“An absurd conceit.”
“True. But this is the way they claim to think.”
“That is not thinking, but dreaming,” Paumoto said. “But I veer with the surprise of that thought. Of course we should do some sort of showing of our potential force. I do not see how that will accelerate the time of reckoning, but when it does come, as I agree it must, the memory of our strength will certainly make them quail, and a cautious foe is already half-defeated.”
• • •
“Mighty big ship up there,” Garvin drawled. “Intimidating and all.”
“You’re right, boss,” his first tweg said. “If somebody put, oh, eighty kilos of Blok, nicely shaped, right on the edge of that fin there, which’d most likely cut right through its structural integrity, and maybe dump a Shrike right in the middle of their antigravs, that ship’d make a mighty big splash when it went down.”
“If you two clowns can stop parading your testosterone,” Njangu said, “you’ve got to admi
t the bad guys have a pretty healthy mother over there.”
Everyone on Leggett — and across a good-sized piece of Dharma Island — had to agree. The Musth ship towered almost as high as the Heights the Rentiers lived on, and could be seen not only on Chance Island but across the bay to the far peninsula. Three of the mother ships flanked it, almost filling Leggett’s main port.
“The thing that gets me,” he continued, “is their escorts are bigger than anything we’ve got to play with.”
“If they’re trying to impress us,” Garvin reluctantly agreed, “they sure succeeded.”
“And you, boss, you lucky little felmet,” Njangu said, “will get to be really impressed, by the way. The Musth are having a reception aboard, and the old man decided I&R’ll be a nifty honor guard, white gloves, spit-shined heinies, and all.”
“Buddha’s illegitimate mother!” Lir swore. “We’re not a bunch of parade-ground fakers!”
“At least we can afford the white gloves,” Njangu snickered.
“What?” Monique puzzled. Garvin hadn’t told anyone in I&R besides Njangu about Jasith’s gift, and gave Yoshitaro a somewhat dirty look.
“Never mind,” Njangu said. “Rao wants us to wave the sabers around because he thinks he might need a bunch of thugs looking innocent within easy reach, like happened with Redruth. Just in case this grand party turns into a big nasty.”
“Oh,” Monique said, relaxing. “Not bad. Boss, shall I fall the troops out and start helping them remember their ceremonials?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Garvin said. “They’re really gonna love this one.”
• • •
“We’ve flipping got it,” Hedley said. Beside him, Ho, Froude, and Heiser beamed exhaustedly at Rao and Angara. “Every point checks between our charts and the Musth. We can … I already had one of the patrol ships try it … use their coordinates to jump around the system.”
“Congratulations,” Rao said. “Now, what do we do with it?”
“Why,” Froude said, a touch indignantly, “we’ll use that information to decipher other Musth charts, which will give us kilotons of data about their planets.”
“And where do we get said other charts?” Angara asked.
“Why, steal them,” Heiser said. “Just like Ho got the first one.”
“Which’ll be simple,” Rao said, “once we bell the tiger … or rather, find the tiger to bell.”
“That’s the simplest thing,” Froude said. “Just get inside that great bloat of a ship of theirs and grab half a dozen.”
“All you’ll need is a good thief,” Heiser said.
Rao looked at them, started laughing. Ho, a bit more familiar with life as it was lived, looked a bit embarrassed.
But Hedley was thoughtful.
“Not that bad an idea,” he mused. “And I think I know just the flippin’ thief we might want.”
• • •
“Yeep,” Njangu said. “You never ask me to volunteer for the easy ones.”
“Those aren’t any fun,” Hedley said.
“Neither is getting dead,” Njangu said. He considered the holograph of the Musth command ship on the desk between them. “This is a real stinker,” he went on. “I was a pretty good heist artist, back before the Confederation civilized me. But breaking into an alien ship, when I don’t know zip from zap … I think my insurance rates went up.”
“Let’s assume you could get inside that dinosaur of theirs, just for the sake of argument,” Hedley said. “Make your way to the control room — ”
“Which would be where?”
“I’d assume at the pointy end, to use technonaval jargon.”
“Probably,” Njangu said.
“So all you’d have to do is slide in,” Hedley said enthusiastically, “grab the flipping charts, and then slide back out.”
“And if I get caught?”
“Can’t allow that to happen,” Hedley said. “That’d be a real embarrassment for RaoForce and Cumbre.”
“Not to mention me, as those goddamned pussycats slice me raw for breakfast.”
“What’s life without a few risks? Besides, Njangu, can you think of anybody else in the system who might … just might … be able to pull it off?
“No,” Hedley continued, changing his mind midstream. “I was wrong. Cancel the whole idea. It’s just too flippin’ risky, and there’s zero chance of getting away with it.”
“I’m on to your ploy, boss,” Yoshitaro said. “Now I’m supposed to bristle and say hang on a goddamned second, I haven’t said I wouldn’t do it, and you’d reluctantly allow yourself to be talked into letting me suicide.”
“Very good,” Hedley said. “I think it’s about time to promote you to alt. You’re getting smarter the longer you hang around me.”
“Bastard,” Njangu said, turning away from the projection and looking out the window, across the bay, at the Musth ship and its escorts. “Sweet-talking me isn’t going to make it any more possible to get in that pig.
“But,” he said, after a few moments, “I do have an idea. It’s just not your idea.”
• • •
“I’m quite looking forward to tonight,” Loy Kouro said. “Dear, is my cummerbund straight? It feels twisted in the back.”
“You’re fine,” Jasith said, glancing at her husband’s reflection in the great mirror. “But I don’t see why you think this is going to be such a thrill. I’m expecting this Paumoto to announce the Musth are finally through fooling around, and are simply taking over. Otherwise, why that monstrosity of a ship?”
“Come on, Jasith. You’re being paranoid. You ought to know important people travel in important ways. This is just a way of showing us how significant Cumbre can be to the Musth.”
Jasith put down the tiny spray of blush, swiveled to face Loy.
“So what are you expecting to happen?”
“Not much,” Kouro said. “At least, not much tonight. I’ll bet Paumoto just wants to meet the high-level people of Cumbre and figure out those he might be able to make whatever business arrangements he wants to with.
“You and I do the same thing. Something like this’ll winnow out the chaff, as the cliché goes. I predict the Musth and ourselves, now that the Confederation appears to be out of the picture for a time, can form significant, profitable alliances.
“That’s what I believe, and that’s the position my leader writers are holding to.”
“Which’ll make sure it comes true,” Jasith murmured. “I hope you’re right, my love.”
Loy grinned, came over and kissed the top of her head, rubbed her shoulders.
“I don’t see any reason I won’t be.”
Jasith moved against his hands like a cat. “That feels good,” she said, her voice lowering a bit. “Take a look at the night. Two moons out, how clear it is.”
“It certainly is.”
“Maybe, after the rubber giptel’s gone, we can make our excuses … maybe jaunt out toward the mouth of the bay, see if we can see Kailas rising? Or anything else that comes up?”
“That’s a nice thought,” Kouro said. “But I’ve got to stop at Matin and brief the night staff on what happened. Maybe after I finish, if there’s time.”
“If there’s time,” Jasith agreed, voice flat, and went back to her makeup.
• • •
Multicolored lights flickered up and down the hull of the command ship, kaleidoscoping light over Leggett and out across the dancing waters of the bay.
Around the ship was a swarm of lims and sporters as the elite of D-Cumbre arrived, to decide if they were meeting new masters, allies, or partners.
The command ship’s port was open, and Musth lined either side of the ramp to the ground. Their weapons belts were burnished, and they wore multicolored scarves that matched the lights from the ship.
At the ramp’s base, extending out onto the tarmac, a hundred I&R men and women were drawn up at rigid attention. They wore dress uniform — midnight blue trousers blouse
d into black mid-thigh boots, waist-length belted tunic, service kepi. There was yellow piping on the legs, cap, and epaulettes, and each trooper wore a Sam Browne belt, with dagger sheathed on one side, pistol holstered on the other.
They carried other weapons not generally used at ceremonial occasions — blast grenades, hideout guns, throwing knives — hidden around their uniforms.
Garvin stood at the beginning of one rank, First Tweg Monique Lir on the other.
Caud Prakash Rao approached, accompanied by his Second Regiment Commanding Officer, Mil Ceil Fitzgerald, and was saluted. He returned the salute and went up the ramp into the ship, seemingly a little ill at ease, repeatedly adjusting his uniform’s lapels.
Civilian and governmental dignitaries in turn flocked toward the honor guard, passing between the lines to the ramp.
Garvin saw Loy Kouro, in old-fashioned evening black, and Jasith Mellusin, wearing what looked to be black at first, but somehow the fabric caught the lights from the ship, mirrored and then flung them back.
Kouro looked Garvin up and down, half smiled superciliously, went on.
Jasith, lagging a bit behind her husband, seemed to stumble. She steadied herself on Garvin’s arm for an instant and adjusted her shoe.
“Thanks for the goodies,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll call you,” she whispered back. “We should meet somewhere.”
“With or without him?” he said, a little bitterly.
Jasith Mellusin straightened, looked at him, didn’t answer, but went on. Garvin’s eyes followed her, then came back to the front.
Monique Lir was looking at him speculatively, but then her face smoothed, blanked like the perfect soldier she was.
• • •
Njangu Yoshitaro was a shadow in shadows. He wore close-fitting black from head to toe, soft running boots, and had a small cutting laser, two gas grenades, a multibladed knife, and a heatsniffer in a pouch at his waist. He ignored the great ship in the center of the field, concentrated on one of the mother ships beside it.
Like the other Musth starships, its lock yawned open, occasional Musth coming and going, and inviting light beamed into the darkness.
