“You look like you’re having fun.” Elaine leaned against the forward cockpit coaming with her knees drawn up to her chin.
“I must be. I’m grinning a lot,” Jeff said. He glanced thoughtfully at the boomed-out spinnaker, then down at the wake. “We must be making twelve kilometers! I’ve never gone this fast before …”
She laughed. “You travel in starships, and you’re impressed by a small boat?”
“It’s not the same,” he said defensively. Now why did she have to remind him of starships? And how was he going to tell her? Maybe now was as good a time as any. Just say it. “And I may not have many more opportunities.”
Her look was enough to wrench out his heart. “Why?” she asked, But she knew.
“Something’s happened out in Trans-Coalsack Sector,” Jefferson said. “Something big. They discovered an alien civilization.”
She frowned. “But you told me yourself there aren’t any intelligent creatures other than humans—”
The boat took a rogue wave and he struggled with the tiller for a moment before he could answer. “It’s a big universe. We were mistaken. Actually, they were discovered some time ago, and the news is only just getting here.”
“But how does that affect us?” she asked.
“They sent an expedition to the alien planets,” Jefferson said. “I don’t know what they found, but they’re ordering a main battle fleet to Trans-Coalsack.”
“War?” She shuddered. “We have stories about the last wars. And those were with humans.”
“I just don’t know,” Jeff said. “It might be. Why else would they want a fleet?” A big fleet. To be commanded by Kutuzov! Kutuzov the butcher, Kutuzov the hero … it depended on your point of view. “They’re sending a lot of ships out there, so the rest of us have to cover more territory. I don’t know where Tombaugh will be sent. Maybe even Trans-Coalsack.”
“Is that far?” she asked.
“Yes. Very far. And behind the Coalsack — that’s a mass of interstellar dust so thick it hides the stars behind it. You can’t see the sector capital from here.”
“I knew it would happen,” she said. “My father told me not to — not to fall in love with a Navy man. So now you’re leaving me.”
“Hey, I haven’t left yet,” he said.
“Can you stay?”
“I don’t know.” Possibly, he thought. I’d have to resign from the Navy and go into civil government. Do I want that? Oh, damn. He thought of Tombaugh ordered away, his shipmates leaving without him. Would that be harder than leaving Elaine?
He’d been planet-bound for two years except for brief tours aboard the orbiting Tombaugh. It was a pleasant relief from ship duty. But if he resigned to stay here, he’d never go to space again except as a passenger. He’d known he’d have to face this decision one day, but not so soon, not so soon. He tried to imagine his life as a civil administrator building an industrial civilization. He’d have honors enough. Possibly a barony. Almost certainly a barony on retirement. Another title in the family. His father would be proud of him. And he’d have Elaine.
Would that be enough?
Certainly he’d thought so when he first met her. But now he wasn’t sure. That frantic need to be with her was gone, and while he didn’t go looking for other women, he no longer felt repelled by them. Like that tavern girl he’d met the other night, the really friendly one — he pushed that thought away. Jeff didn’t believe in telepathy, but Elaine had surprised him before.
She was at her loveliest today. The wind brought a bloom to her cheeks, and her hair, tied with bright ribbons, blew wantonly in the gusts. His eyes met hers and he smiled, and her answering smile was warm and trusting.
Trusting. Certainly she was that. Far too much so by the standards of this world.
You owe her, Jefferson thought to himself.
Not really. Happens all the time. Why make such a big thing out of it?
Because she does, and her father does, and all her friends do, and you knew it all along, and—
Another rogue wave threatened to swamp them, and he tried to force his worries and doubts from his mind to give all his attention to the tiller.
He almost succeeded.
* * *
Jefferson looked at his crowded “work-to-do” screen and frowned. It was all trivial stuff, but it took time to process, and it was hard to keep his mind on his work. Remembering last night’s stormy scene with Elaine after they got ashore didn’t help. She’d sensed his uncertainties, and although she hadn’t accused him of not caring for her, she’d thought it. Worse, it was true. Or almost true. Or partly true. He cared for her, but enough to abandon his shipmates, his whole career? It came to that. She’d never fit into Capital social life.
And the choice would have to be made within the year. Just now High Commissioner Ackoff was trying to recruit naval officers for his civil service, and Navy policy was to let him; but if Tombaugh got war orders it would be too late. Captain Greenaugh would never let one of his officers resign under those circumstances.
He was keying in data on platinum production — surprisingly high on a world so poor in copper — when his door opened and Lieutenant Adnan Clements came in. “Got a minute?”
“Just that,"Jeff said. “What’s up?”
“Blivit, of course. Old man’s got a new job for you.”
Jeff gestured toward the screen. “I’ve got plenty of jobs-”
“So now you have another one. That Makassar expedition’s coming in. Somebody’s got to give Navy clearance for passengers and cargo. You’re elected.”
“Oh, hell. Why me?”
“Because the skipper’s not about to do it, and I’m being sent down to South Continent to bust up a pirate fleet, that’s why.”
“Hey, that sounds like fun—”
“Sure, if your idea of fun is shooting up wooden boats that can’t shoot back.” Clement’s face showed his distaste.
Jeff nodded agreement. “Guess I’d rather look for contraband at that.” He turned to the keyboard and punched in the assignment. The schedule screen looked more cluttered than ever. “Get me a coffee?” he asked.
“Sure,” Clements said. “Back in a minute.”
Might as well see what the job involves, Jeff thought. He went back to the keyboard. “Let’s see,” he mused. “Keywords ‘MAKASSAR’ and ‘EXPORT CONTRABAND.’ Now the library search function …”
“MAKASSAR EXPORT CONTRABAND: NO ITEMS LISTED” appeared on the main working screen.
“Aha, “Jefferson said.
“Coffee time.” Clements came in carrying two plastic cups and set one on Jeff’s desk. “I just remembered, you’ve been to Makassar. Job’s natural for you.” He glanced at the screen. “Looks like you drew an easy one.”
“Maybe. It’s for sure there’s not much there.” He typed in “CONTINUE DETAIL TRADE/TRAVEL POLICY” and waited.
“MAKASSAR IS CLASSIFIED ‘CLASS 5 PRIMITIVE’ WITH NO SIGNIFICANT TECHNOLOGY NO EXPORT RESTRICTIONS. SUFFICIENT SAMPLINGS INDICATE NO EPIDEMIC DISEASES. FULL SPECTRUM IMMUNIZATIONS REQUIRED FOR LANDING OR EXIT FROM PLANET.
“THREE ADDICTING DRUGS ARE KNOWN TO BE PREPARED ON MAKASSAR BUT THEY ARE UNATTRACTIVE AND THERE IS NO MARKET FOR THEM. FOR FURTHER DETAILS SEE ‘MAKASSAR — GENERAL.’
“IMPORT RESTRICTIONS: SEVERE IM—” The flow of words was cut off as Jeff touched more keys.
“See?” Clements said. “An easy job.”
“Still takes time I don’t have.”
“Poor you. How’s your romance going?”
Jefferson shrugged. “I told her about Moties,” he said. “And the possible alert.”
“I gather she wasn’t pleased.”
Jeff snorted. “You could say it that way.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Hell, Adnan, I don’t know. I like the Navy.”
“Five hundred hours ago you couldn’t talk about anything but resigning. Get married and become a colonist. Found a new dyna
sty, to hear you talk.”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah, but now we really have to decide-”
Clements laughed. “What’s the problem, laddie? Afraid to admit you’re just another sailor feeding bushwa to his girl? Hell, I knew you were never going to resign.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jeff said. “But damn it, this girl’s different-”
“Sure. They all are,” Clements said. He drained his coffee. “My screen’s not like yours, but it’s full enough. Best get at it.”
“Yeah.” Jefferson turned back to his work. More reports. Mining and refining capabilities. Steam generation facilities. All important, he knew, but-
If I give up the Navy, this’ll be my career, he thought. God Almighty, how could anyone spend his entire life at this? Better a naval battle. Better a long, dull patrol. Better almost anything!
The days passed, and Jeff was no further ahead. As soon as he finished one task they’d give him another. He had five locals gathering data, and they brought it in faster than he could code it into the machines.
Twice he’d sent memos to the High Commissioner’s office explaining the desirability of hiring and training locals for elementary clerical work of this type. It wouldn’t harm this planet for some of its people to learn how to produce machine-readable data. He’d had no answer.
Which, he thought philosophically, is better than a definite “No.”
And Elaine was — strange. They’d patched up their quarrel. He didn’t tell her how soon he’d have to make a decision, and she didn’t bring up the subject. She did encourage him in his work, and seemed interested in what he was doing. She hadn’t cared before, but now of a sudden she encouraged him to talk about his work, as if—
“Landing boat’s on final approach now, Lieutenant.”
“Ah. Thanks, Hawley.” He went out onto the pier to wait. In moments he heard a growing thunder and the sharp clap of a sonic boom. He shaded his eyes to stare out over the water and made out a small speck just at the horizon. It was coming directly toward him, angling in a long glide path toward the water.
“There it is!” Someone shouted from behind him. Jeff grimaced. There were a thousand civilians out there, all eager to see the locals who’d been off-planet. They weren’t allowed on the pier itself, but they were close enough. A lot of them were shouting now.
The landing boat settled onto the water. Jeff nodded approval. It was a smooth landing. Two small local steam tugs went out to tow it to the pier. They’d be a while doing that. Jeff wondered whose idea it was. The landing boats were hard to maneuver, but they weren’t so difficult to handle as to need local assistance. Some boondoggle to employ locals? Maybe the local harbormaster was worried about the big landing craft losing control and smashing up the docks. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited.
Finally the craft was alongside and the gangway lowered. Three naval officers got off first. Junior lieutenants, very young. Just up from middie, Jefferson thought. Proud as peacocks. He remembered when he’d sewn that stripe on his sleeve. It had been a good feeling.
They looked around uncertainly and Jeff went over to them. Although they were nominally the same rank as Jeff, two of the newcomers saluted him. Jeff grinned. “Assigned here?” he asked.
“Yes, si— Yes, thank you. Were you sent to meet us?”
Jeff laughed. “Hardly. But wait around and I’ll see you get to headquarters. Know anything of what you’re supposed to do?”
“Not really,” the spokesman said. “What’s this place like?”
“Takes a bit of getting used to, but not bad,” Jeff said. “Oops, excuse me, that’s my crew.” He left them and went to the gangway.
The group getting off had to be native to Prince Samual’s World. Jeff wasn’t sure how he knew that, but they had the look about them. They were led by a tall, broad-shouldered man with straw-colored hair going away to steel gray. Distinguished, Jefferson thought. The files said Trader, but that man had obviously been a soldier.
He examined the others. The girl was all right, but no raving beauty; there were plenty of prettier ones in Haven. She looked self-possessed, though, more poised than Elaine, and that made her attractive. There wasn’t much to notice about the others.
“Trader MacKinnie?” he said to the leader.
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. A word that man doesn’t mean. Not to me. “I’m Lieutenant Jefferson, sir. I’ve been assigned to conduct your landing interviews and inspection.”
“Will this take long?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Jefferson said. “Just formalities. Shall we go inside?” He led the way into the building to the interview room and ushered MacKinnie inside. “Have a seat, please.” He turned on his recorder and put his pocket computer on the desk. “Here, I’ve got your records on here somewhere — ah. ‘Jameson MacKinnie, Trader, citizen of Haven. Expedition leader.’ Successful trip?”
MacKinnie shrugged. “Moderately. I expect the cargo we brought will cover the expedition costs, but there won’t be a lot of profit.”
Jefferson nodded. “I don’t recall seeing much there I’d want to buy, “he said. “Where did you go on Makassar?”
“Well, we landed at the Navy base at Jikar and went from there,” MacKinnie said.
Man’s nervous, Jefferson thought. Is there a special reason? Or does he just dislike Imperial officers? “The report from the Makassar garrison says you went to Batav.”
MacKinnie nodded.
“I was there once. Did you see the temple?”
“Certainly. Most prominent building on the whole planet.”
“It is, isn’t it? Get inside?”
“Not beyond the courtyard,” MacKinnie answered. “It’s a holy place, and the unconsecrated don’t get into the inner buildings.”
Jefferson grinned to himself. “Right.” It had been that way when Jefferson visited. Of course other Navy people had been inside, all the way to the crypt where they kept the remains of the old library. What might this chap have done if he’d known what was in there? Or did he? “Why is the place holy?” Jefferson asked. “I didn’t stay long enough to find out.”
“Relics, they say,” MacKinnie answered. “The building’s very old. We ran into a party of Imperial missionaries in Batav, and they said something about stuff left over from the First Empire.”
Jefferson glanced down at his computer. There it was. A note from the commander at Jikar. ‘Archbishop Casteliano found this group helpful and sent a note of commendation.’ So. They had friends in the Church. Might as well get this over with. “Any injuries or diseases?” he asked. “And I’ll need your cargo manifests. …”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HOMECOMING
When MacKinnie saw Lieutenant Jefferson waiting for him at the gangway his first reaction was panic. Somehow they must have found out…
But the only armed Marines in evidence were a pair of sentries looking very bored, and there was no evidence of suspicion at all. Jefferson acted as if he’d never seen MacKinnie before. Given his condition the only time they’d been in the same room together that was hardly a surprise. And his greeting was polite. Everything seemed routine.
For all that, it was unnerving. Nathan followed the Imperial officer into the stone warehouse the Imperials had converted into their customs office, and tried to act relaxed about the interview. It seemed to go well enough, and Jefferson’s interest in the Temple was natural. The real test would come when they inspected the cargo. The carefully copied library records were concealed inside handcrafted statuary. It wouldn’t take a lot of ingenuity to find them, but Nathan could think of no other place to conceal them. He’d almost left them behind, but Kleinst had said he couldn’t rely on his memory, and that left few choices.
MacKinnie found he needn’t have worried. The cargo inspection was cursory. Jefferson had a couple of the crates opened, but mostly seemed curious to see what they’d brought.
“Copper statues,” Jefferson commented. “I didn�
��t see anything like this on Makassar.”
MacKinnie laughed. “Nor did we. But copper is cheap enough there, so we had artists copy their work in it.”
“Clever of you,” Jefferson said. “Should fetch a good price here.” He continued to look through boxes. “Ah. I should have picked up one of these myself,” he said. He held up a tusked sea creature carved in one of Makassar’s ultra-hard woods. “What’s your price for it?”
MacKinnie shrugged. “We’ll have to hold auctions. How else can you establish prices on rare artworks? But that’s yours if you’d like.’’
“I should pay for it—”
MacKinnie shrugged. “Set a price, then.”
“I don’t suppose I could afford what you can get for it here-”
“Probably not. It’s still yours if you want it.”
“I’d better not. Thank you for the offer.” He made notes on his pocket computer. “You’re cleared,” he said.
MacKinnie was surprised and looked it. “Thanks.”
“That’s Navy clearance,” Jefferson said. “You’ll get a customs bill later.” He glanced at the small screen on his pocket computer. “Since this expedition was owned by a sovereign ally, that won’t be very high. May even be waived. Have you arranged for a crew to transport?”
“No, but I expect His Majesty’s government has.”
“Good.”
“What’s next?” MacKinnie asked.
“Immigration,” Jefferson said. “Nothing to that. Just identification. To be sure you’re the same people who left. Are you all here?”
“Not quite. Barstonic and Danvers and Stark were killed on Makassar.” He was surprised at how easy it was to say that. Of course Hal wasn’t dead. Or wasn’t when they left Batav.
“Sorry to hear that.” Jefferson glanced at his pocket computer. “Stark was your guard leader?”
“Yes. Your people there took a full report—”
Lieutenant Jefferson sighed. “They don’t seem to have sent it along,” he said. He did things to his pocket computer and looked at it again. “No, I’m afraid not. You’ll have to tell that story again. Unless — Just a minute.” He used a small stylus to write something else on the machine’s face. “Aha. They did send it after all. Illustrated with satellite photos.” He read for a moment, then looked up at MacKinnie. “You seem to have fought a proper little war at Batav.”
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