Shining Steel

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Kwam? stared at him. “They lost it under your command."

  “I'm well aware of that!” John snapped.

  “Are you suggesting, Captain,” Blessing said, casually flicking at a wire that protruded, at the moment, from one of his fingertips, “That we arm the Chosen and prod them into conquering your own native land?"

  “Not conquering; recapturing!"

  “It looks very much like conquest to me,” Blessing replied. He folded the wire down; it vanished into his finger. “Weren't you leading an army against the Chosen a year ago?"

  “Yes, I was."

  “It seems you've changed sides."

  “No, I haven't-everyone else has! My people surrendered to the Heaveners, and the Chosen surrendered to us."

  “There would be a bloodbath, you know; we've armed the Chosen with light machine guns and armor-piercing bullets, and I'm sure Bechtel-Rand has equipped the True Worders with equally formidable weapons. Casualties would be enormous. Even if the True Worder army was destroyed, surely they have some sort of militia, and you yourself told us that they joined the protectorate in order to acquire the means to defend themselves. And furthermore, Captain, as its name implies, wouldn't the protectorate be obligated to come to their aid? True, the Chosen could cut them off on the ground, but Bechtel-Rand has enough aircraft to keep True Worder resistance well-supplied for months, even if they don't decide to use their starships, as they well might."

  John stared at the map. Blessing was right, he knew. He had still been thinking in the terms of old Godsworld, where wars could be fought without interference, and where trained men, horses, and steel blades decided battles. He had not considered either the heightened firepower or the presence of aircraft.

  “Besides,” Kwam? said, “what's the point in killing potential customers?"

  Reluctantly, John pulled his eyes away from the map and nodded.

  “However,” Blessing said, “I think you may be right in choosing our next target. The agreement that your former people signed upon joining the protectorate-was it an exclusive contract?"

  “I don't know,” John admitted, “I never thought about it."

  “Well, Captain, if you're to go on working for ITD you need to think of such things. Just because Bechtel-Rand has trading rights in New Nazareth and holds the contract to defend the tribe, doesn't mean that we can't trade with them as well."

  John stared at him.

  “In fact, Captain, I think that tomorrow morning you'll be leaving for New Nazareth, to see if you can't open trade there."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him; but I will maintain my own ways before him."-Job 13:15

  ****

  The airship dropped him and his party at the border; he and Blessing had decided that it would be unwise to fly directly into New Nazareth until they had a better idea how matters stood there. John had a small metal device that was supposed to signal the airship to come and get him, wherever he might be at the time, when he was ready to leave and return to Savior's Grace.

  He had wanted Kwam? along on this expedition, but the Australian had refused; in fact, John noticed that he no longer left the ITD headquarters except to go aboard the ship for one reason or another. He had obviously lost interest in Godsworld.

  Besides, as Blessing pointed out, it was reckless and wasteful to send both of his local experts-only Kwam? used the official term, “on-site consultants"-on a single expedition.

  Premosila Kim, however, was available; once the opening rounds of negotiation were out of the way Blessing had replaced her in Spiritus Sancti with a man, someone that the Chosen could deal with more comfortably.

  John found himself thinking the worse of the Chosen for their prejudice against women, even while he realized that he, himself, had not been much better for most of his life. He was still not ready to concede women full equality with men, as the Earthers did, but he certainly respected some of the Earther women far more than he ever had any Godsworlder women.

  For one, he respected Kim, despite her occasional awkwardness with the details of everyday life on Godsworld; he accepted her inclusion gladly.

  He also took along a deacon from Savior's Grace, to lend the group some official status by Godsworlder tribal standards, and a young male Earther in case the True Worders refused to deal with Kim.

  The four of them walked from the border as far as the outskirts of New Nazareth, a journey lasting about a day and a half, before anyone stopped them or asked their business. Finally, only a hundred yards from the city's open gates, a patrol marched out to meet them, apparently alerted by a lookout somewhere.

  John introduced himself by name only, since his titles had been revoked, and explained that he had come to speak to the Elders on behalf of himself and his companions. He did not offer any explanation of who his companions were.

  Two of the six men in the patrol obviously recognized him immediately; he was unsure of the others, and did not himself recognize any of them well enough to call by name.

  “Captain John,” the patrol leader said, “we thought you were dead."

  He felt an unreasonable warmth at simply being addressed by his old familiar title, rather than just “Captain", as the Earthers called him, or by a civilian name, as the Chosen did now that he no longer had an army.

  “No,” he said, “I came close once or twice, but God's not ready for me yet."

  “Either that, or the Devil thinks you're more use here than there!” The patrol leader smiled, but John did not laugh at the jibe; he was too uncertain of his reception among his own people.

  “I need to talk to the Elders,” he said. “Can that be arranged?"

  “I reckon we might get a couple of them to see you,” the soldier answered. “Old Captain Habakkuk's an Elder now, and I'm sure he'll be eager to see you again, sir!"

  John smiled. “I hope so."

  “He's up at the garrison, sir; would it be all right if I brought you and these others there?"

  John nodded. “It'd be fine with me-you know what your orders are better than I do, now. Don't break them just because it's me."

  “Oh, they don't get very specific about it, sir; we're to use our own judgement, so I'll take you to Captain-Elder Habakkuk."

  “Good,” John answered. “We'd like that."

  In practice, however, they were not taken directly to Habakkuk, but rather to one of his aides, in a small, cluttered office at one end of the garrison barracks. There they were kept waiting at swordpoint-John noticed that all six soldiers carried revolvers on their belts, but two swords were the only weapons drawn to guard the foursome-while the aide went to consult with his commander.

  They sat on the floor for almost an hour before the aide finally returned.

  “Mr. Mercy,” he said, “the Captain-Elder will see you now."

  The civilian address struck John as a bad sign as he got to his feet. He said nothing, but followed the aide up a flight of stairs to Habakkuk's office-an office which had once been his own.

  It had changed very little, he saw when the door swung open. Habakkuk, too, had changed very little-except he did not stand up when John entered the room. That was a mark of respect to a superior officer; whatever form of address the patrol leader might have used, Habakkuk obviously no longer saw John as his commander. He sat behind his desk, his heavy body squeezed into the familiar chair, his square face expressionless, and said nothing. The initial warmth John felt at the sight of his old comrade quickly faded before that lack of response.

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “J'sevyu, Captain-Elder,” John said at last.

  “J'sevyu, John,” Habakkuk replied. “I never expected to see you again."

  John nodded and was about to say something when Habakkuk added, “I never wanted to see you again."

  John's mouth, opening in preparation for speech, continued to open, but no sound came out for the first few seconds. “What?” he managed at
last.

  “You heard me."

  “Yes, I heard you, but I don't understand you. I thought we were friends."

  “Maybe we were once, but we aren't now. You betrayed your own people; how can I be friend to a traitor?"

  “I'm no traitor!"

  “No? You prevented our people from conquering the Chosen when we had the chance; you led our army into a trap and saw it destroyed instead. When we had found an ally in the People of Heaven to protect us from the Chosen, you waged a guerrilla war against them. Now you've come here openly as an agent of the Chosen. What did they pay you for all this, John? Was it worth it?” John could hear the bitterness in Habakkuk's voice.

  “Nobody paid me!” he replied. “And I'm not here as an agent of the Chosen!"

  “You aren't under the Anointed's protection?"

  “No!"

  “I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come back here any other way. If you're not here as a foreign agent, then you're still a True Worder, and a traitor. Will you insist on a trial, or can we just get right on with the hanging?"

  “Darn it, I'm not a traitor!"

  “Oh, come on, John!"

  “I'm not! I made mistakes-bad mistakes-but I'm not a traitor!"

  The two men stared at one another for a long moment; then Habakkuk demanded, “Well, if you aren't here as an envoy for the Chosen, why are you here? Were you just coming home?"

  “No,” John admitted. “I am an envoy, but not for the Chosen."

  “Who, then?"

  “The Free Trade Federation."

  Habakkuk looked utterly blank. “Who?"

  “The Free Trade Federation,” John insisted. “It's… well, an alliance. Intended to counter the Heavener protectorate. Our base is in Savior's Grace, up in Isachar."

  “I never heard of it."

  “We're still pretty new-but we've signed up the Chosen…"

  “I knew it!"

  “Wait…"

  “I knew you were working for the Chosen!"

  “Darn it, I am not!” John was infuriated. Habakkuk had always had a tendency to hang onto ideas that had outlived their usefulness; John had tolerated it before, but never before had one of those ideas been directed against him. “I'm working for ITD!"

  Habakkuk stared at him for a moment. “Get your story straight, John,” he said at last. “Who's Ahtedeh? And you said you worked for this federation."

  “I said I was here on their behalf, not that I worked for them."

  “Not much of a difference from where I sit."

  “There is, though. I work for the Interstellar Trade and Development Corporation; it's an organization that competes with the People of Heaven back on Earth. I brought some of them to Godsworld to give the Heaveners a little of their own medicine. The corporation is called ITD for short, and ITD runs the Free Trade Federation, which is based in Savior's Grace, and which has signed up the Chosen as a client state, just the way the Heaveners signed up you folks."

  “You work for Earthers?"

  “Yes-Earthers, but not the Heaveners."

  “Earthers are Earthers, John; I thought you hated them all for the pagans they are."

  “I hate the Heaveners for coming in here and destroying what we had on Godsworld, corrupting the people and usurping power and destroying my homeland. If I have to work with Earthers to fight them, I will."

  “How long have you been working for the Earthers? Were they the ones who paid you to attack the Heaveners instead of the Chosen?"

  “Nobody paid me to do that, Hab! It was a mistake!"

  Habakkuk stared at him.

  “Look, I've been working for ITD for about a month now-that's all."

  Habakkuk stared for a moment longer, leaning back in his chair. Then, abruptly, he leaned forward across the desk.

  “You swear you weren't paid to betray us?"

  “I swear it, by God and Jesus."

  “All right, then, I believe you-I think. What did you come here for?"

  “To trade-the Free Trade Federation wants to trade with you."

  “We're part of the Heavener protectorate, you know."

  “Yes, of course I know that, but you can still trade with us, can't you? Anything the Heaveners can sell you, we can sell you-and probably at a better price."

  “I'm no trader."

  “I know that-but you're an Elder."

  “True enough. All right, keep talking."

  “Let me get my assistant up here; she's the expert."

  “She? You mean that woman isn't just baggage?"

  “That's Premosila Kim, our top salesperson,” John said proudly.

  Habakkuk sat back and stared in astonishment.

  It took four days of haggling to arrange for a caravan's reception; John stayed quietly in the background while his companions handled the details.

  After the initial explanations were made, Habakkuk, too, stayed in the background, letting the other Elders handle things; his specialty was the military, and he left other matters to other people. Once, on the second day, he came and sat beside John throughout a long debate, but did not speak; the coldness between the two men had not been completely dispelled.

  On the third day he did speak, remarking casually, “That woman's quite a talker; when you brought her here I thought you'd gone mad, putting so much faith in a woman."

  John nodded. “She's smart, all right."

  “She says you're second in command of ITD's entire force on Godsworld,” Habakkuk continued.

  “I thought I was third,” John replied truthfully, “but I reckon I might be wrong.” He had never inquired as to how he stood relative to Kwam?.

  Habakkuk nodded silently, accepting the information. After a long pause he said, “Then I don't guess you plan to come back here again."

  John thought long and hard before finally replying, “No, I guess I don't."

  He had never thought about that, never planned that far ahead. He had only been concerned with opposing the Heaveners, never worrying about what he, personally, would do when he no longer had a part to play in that opposition. Now that he did think about it, though, he knew he would never be happy returning to the People of the True Word and Flesh. They would never again wage war upon their neighbors, he was certain; the spirit had been destroyed, the steel stripped from their souls, by their crushing defeat at the hands of the People of Heaven. Their empire had been swallowed up by the protectorate, and John could not believe that it would ever again be the proud and independent power it had once been.

  That was no place for a man like himself.

  “Reckon it's just as well,” Habakkuk said. “You aren't real popular around here, traitor or not."

  John nodded. That, too, was true.

  When the negotiations were finished he signaled the airship, eager to return home-home to the ITD headquarters in Savior's Grace.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “My lips shall not speak wickedness, nor my tongue utter deceit."-Job 27:4

  ****

  After the Chosen and the True Worders, John spent several weeks visiting various old allies, accompanied by ITD salespeople, stopping back at Savior's Grace every so often for more supplies and to report back to Blessing. Several tribes had agreed to open trade with ITD, which was, for once, all John was asking for-no military commitments or exclusive contracts.

  He had made a good trip through eastern Reuben and was just off the airship, bound for Blessing's office, when someone called to him from across the landing field.

  He stopped and looked; a woman was waving at him from beyond the fence.

  “John! Over here!” she called.

  Puzzled, John turned aside, motioning to the two sales representatives who had left the airship with him to go on without him. He strode quickly to the fence.

  The voice and figure had been familiar; the woman was Miriam Humble-Before-God.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I came to see you,” she answered. “And mayb
e Kwam?."

  “Why?” John could guess why; she was probably renewing her drive for vengeance against him, and hoping to revive her friendship-if that was what it had been-with Kwam?.

  “Ms. Dawes sent me."

  He had not expected that. “Oh?” he said.

  “Yes. Can we go somewhere else, somewhere more comfortable?"

  “I have an office in the headquarters here."

  “No, somewhere we can't be watched."

  He glanced at her curiously. He had never asked Blessing whether his office was monitored, but in all probability it was; that was standard for all rooms in Earther buildings, even the lavatories. He had become accustomed to the idea-just as he had become accustomed to Earther lavatories and the incredible amounts of water they used. Kwam? had assured him that all the water was purified and re-used, not simply wasted, but it had still taken him weeks to adjust to the idea of intentionally polluting water with his own wastes.

  He had adjusted, though, and now he was bothered by the smell whenever he had to use Godsworlder facilities, and annoyed by the inconvenience of carrying a communicator with him when outside headquarters, rather than being able to talk to anyone he chose simply by addressing the ceiling.

  Miriam said she was working for Dawes, and wanted complete privacy; it was easy to guess that whatever was to be said to him was something Bechtel-Rand did not want ITD to hear. That might be interesting; it might well be something he could use against Bechtel-Rand.

  “All right,” he said, “I know a hollow over in the rocks.” He pointed with one hand and slipped the other into his pocket, checking the settings on his communicator and trying to decide whether or not to use it to record the conversation.

  Miriam nodded, and he led the way up to where a rocky shelf jutted out from the hillside. A piece had broken off and slid down the slope a few yards, leaving a gap where they would be sheltered on three sides.