King David's Spaceship (codominion)

by Jerry Pournelle

  Jefferson frowned. “I don’t know, sir-”

  “No, and we don’t expect you to,” Greenaugh said. “But we do want to find out. You get along with the locals. Come to that, you’ve got more purely social contacts in Haven than most of us.”

  “Yes, sir, but Elaine’s father is a roads commissioner. He wouldn’t know about the Corliss Grant station.”

  “Didn’t expect him to,” Ackoff said. “But you go to social gatherings. What’s the mood here? Officially they love us, but what do they really think?” He spread his hands helplessly. “Are they mad enough to be working on weapons to fight us?”

  “I’ve heard no hint of that,” Jefferson protested.

  “Nor would you,” Ackoff said gently.

  “Christ,” Greenaugh snorted. “Aliens in Trans-Coalsack. Half the fleet sucked off to that godforsaken corner of the Empire. Outies not twenty parsecs from here, and nowhere near enough ships to deal with them. All we’d bloody need is some kind of abortive revolt just when we’re ready to report this place pacified.” He shook his head grimly. “Christ, what would we do? We don’t have enough Marines to occupy the place—”

  “They’re hardly a threat to the Empire, sir,” Jefferson said.

  “They are if they’ve linked up with the outies,” Greenaugh said.

  “But — do you have some reason to believe—”

  “No,” Ackoff said. “We’ve no reason to believe anything at all. But the fact remains that they’re spending enormous sums for no reason we can determine, and their explanations don’t make sense.”

  “I wish we’d never found this damned place,” Greenaugh said. “But that’s neither here nor there. This whole conversation is about to be mooted. Apparently they’re going to tell us what they’re doing out at Corliss Grant.”

  Jefferson looked puzzled. “Sir?”

  “They’ve requested an official observer,” Ackoff said. “An Imperial officer as official witness to some important test they’re going to conduct.”

  “But why would they want a witness?” Jefferson asked.

  Ackoff shook his head. “We haven’t any idea. Of course colonials do strange things.”

  “I admit enough curiosity to consider going myself,” Greenaugh said. “But the governor won’t let me.”

  “Not without sufficient escort,” Ackoff said. “And since our best guess is that what they’re doing is harmless, it would be impolitic for the captain to arrive with a company of fleet Marines.”

  Whereas, Jeff thought, lieutenants are more expendable than captains. “Surely they know the Empire’s policy on negotiating with kidnappers,” he said.

  “They ought to. We told them often enough,” Greenaugh said.

  Imperial policy on the subject was simple. The hostages were counted as dead from the moment they were kidnapped. Imperial forces might storm the place the hostages were kept in, or they might bomb it. The one thing they wouldn’t do was negotiate for their safety. The policy was supposed to take away any incentive for kidnapping Imperial officials, and Jeff had always approved of it. Now he wasn’t so sure …

  “It’s possible they don’t believe us, of course,” Greenaugh continued. “But I don’t think so. It’s too raw. Invite an Imperial officer out to their most secret place just to kidnap him? Easier to grab one of you chuckleheads in a local bar after a long night. Also, there’s the matter of the weather.”

  “Weather?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes,” Greenaugh said. “They want an observer as soon as possible, but only on a day that we can guarantee will have clear weather, no storms or high winds, in the Corliss Grant area.” The captain shrugged. “No difficulty this time of year, of course.”

  “But no explanation given?” Jeff asked.

  “None ”

  “Whatever they intend,” Ackoff said, “this is an opportunity to find out what they’re doing out there. I will give you credentials — meaningless, of course — certifying you as an official witness, and you’ll be sent in answer to this request. The computer says the weather down there ought to be fine for at least another five or six days, so you can leave tomorrow.”

  “Take a couple of Marines, lad,” Greenaugh said. “And keep an open communication line to headquarters. I’ll have someone listening in, just in case. We’ll get you out if we possibly can.”

  * * *

  The Corliss Grant Hills were located on a long peninsula jutting southward nearly a thousand kilometers from Haven City, the most southerly portion of the Kingdom of Haven. Jeff sat in the first-class compartment of the surprisingly fast train and watched the countryside roll past. There was little else to do. The palace equerry assigned to escort him was not talkative. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see, either. This part of Haven was mostly farmland dotted with patches of swamp. Once something large and dangerous-appearing reared out of the swamp, but it didn’t challenge the train itself, and they were moving too fast for Jeff to see what the beast really was.

  After a while the rail line cut inward through rolling brown hills cluttered with low brush. Jeff shook his head in perplexity. The compartment grew hotter with each kilometer they traveled southward; now it was downright uncomfortable. As a location for a secret research station, the Corliss Grant Hills had nothing to recommend them except isolation. Why, he wondered, why would the government of Haven choose to send a large part of their budget and increasing numbers of their all-too-scarce trained personnel to this godforsaken area?

  The train slowed with screeching of brakes and hiss of steam. Jefferson collected the two Marines Greenaugh had sent with him and allowed himself to be led off the train. There was a small group led by an officer of the Haven Royal Army waiting on the platform. The officer — a colonel by his insignia — seemed vaguely familiar. Jefferson frowned, trying to recall him.

  “MacKinnie,” Jefferson said. “Trader MacKinnie. I hadn’t known you were in the Haven army.” Although, he thought, I might have guessed. “Does this mysterious event you want us to observe have something to do with the expedition to Makassar?”

  MacKinnie’s smile was noncommittal. “Less than we’d like,” he said. “But I suppose you could say so. Welcome to Corliss Grant, Lieutenant. Our transport is just over here-”

  The steam car was luxurious. Jefferson declined a drink from the built-in bar and tried to question MacKinnie, but the Haven officer wasn’t answering questions.

  “All in due time,” Jeff was told. “All in due time. Fortunately the weather is perfect—”

  “As you knew it would be,” Jefferson said.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Four times they passed through guarded gates. The soldiers on duty seemed quite alert, and were highly deferential to MacKinnie. Curiouser and curiouser, Jeff thought. “I take it you’re not in charge of this show?”

  MacKinnie shook his head. “No, you’ll be meeting some of His Majesty’s ministers shortly. I’m just supposed to get you on post and feed you lunch.”

  “Skip the lunch,"Jeff said. “Let’s get to why I’m here.”

  “Can’t skip the lunch.” MacKinnie said. “Timings rather critical, I’m afraid.”

  MacKinnie’s half smile was irritating. There was something else, too, an air of tension. Colonel MacKinnie’s worried about something, Jeff thought. Worried and trying not to show it. I wonder—

  There was a series of loud explosions. Jeff sat bolt upright. His hand flew to his sidearm before he noticed that MacKinnie hadn’t moved. “Put it away, Donivtsky,” Jeff told his Marine escort. “I will say I’m pleased to see how fast you can draw that weapon.”

  “Sir.”

  “Colonel, what the devil was that?”

  “Experimental cannon. Fires several hundred rounds a minute,” MacKinnie said. “They’re testing it. You’ll see it soon enough.”

  “Did you drag me down here in this heat to look at a cannon?”

  “Not exactly. Ah. Here we are.”

  The car pulled up in front of
a large wooden building. There were armed sentries on duty outside it, and more soldiers waiting to open the car doors for them. Again Jeff had the impression of tension, of something about to happen, but there was nothing definite, and certainly nothing threatening.

  He was led inside to an ornate dining room where white-uniformed mess stewards served an excellent meal. Jeff declined wine, but was persuaded to have a small glass of grua after he ate. Conversation was minimal, and once again MacKinnie avoided answering his questions.

  When they finished, MacKinnie stood. “And now it is time to meet my lord Dougal, His Majesty’s cabinet officer in charge of this establishment. If you’ll come with me-”

  They didn’t have to go far. Jeff was privately amused. It wasn’t unknown for colonials to show their importance by insisting on elaborate rules of precedence. Obviously a mere lieutenant wasn’t important enough for a cabinet officer to have lunch with.

  There could have been a scene at the office door. Jeff’s Marines didn’t want to be separated from him. “My apologies, Colonel,” Jeff said. “The sergeant has been ordered to protect me—”

  “Surely not from us,” MacKinnie said. “On this post that’s my job.”

  And he looks plenty insulted, too, Jeff thought. Oh, hell. “I’ll be right out, Sergeant,” Jeff told Donivtsky. “Please wait for me here.”

  The Marine wasn’t pleased. His “Sir!” made that clear. Jeff went into the paneled office musing on just how much expression a senior NCO could put into a monosyllable.

  The man seated at the large desk certainly didn’t look dangerous. Jeff remembered meeting him briefly at some palace function or another.

  “My lord Dougal, minister without portfolio,” MacKinnie said. As Jeff shook hands with Dougal, MacKinnie closed the door.

  “Very kind of you to come,” Dougal said. “Please have a seat. Thank you. Grua?”

  “I’ve been entertained well, my lord,” Jeff said. “If you’ll pardon me, I’m overcome with curiosity about why I’m here.”

  “Yes, of course you are,” Dougal said. “If you could please give me your credentials as an official observer for the Empire?”

  Jeff handed over the documents. They were studded with seals. “Dazzlers,” Ackoff had called them. Since there wasn’t any such office as “official witness” the text had been cobbled up by Ackoff’s secretary. It was possible that the locals could read some of the Imperial language — their own wasn’t all that different from Angelic — so the documents states, in flowery terms, that Lieutenant Jefferson was empowered to observe and make an official report.

  Dougal examined the papers, then put them in his desk. “If you’ll excuse me one more moment?” He lifted a small tube from the desk and put it to his ear, listened, then spoke into it. “Excellent. Please ask H.M. to be ready to come in.” He put the tube back on the desk and turned to Jefferson. “Indeed, it is time we had a long discussion, Lieutenant. I would rather your government had sent a more senior officer, but you’ll have to do. First, though, I must make a strange request. Would you allow me to lock your sidearm in my desk?”

  MacKinnie spoke from behind him. “No sudden moves. Please.”

  “I regret that the colonel is armed,” Dougal said. “As am I. And of course this office is under observation by several of my agents. Believe me, Lieutenant, you are not being kidnapped. No demands will be made on you, and your weapon will be returned to you shortly. But I must insist that you surrender it. You see, we have a silly law that only the king’s officers may be armed in his presence, and His Majesty is waiting to come in.”

  And Colonel MacKinnie is behind me, Jeff thought. These blithering idiots are going to get themselves in trouble. Already have. He could imagine what was happening at headquarters. The duty officer listening would have sent for Greenaugh — if Greenaugh weren’t already there. Jeff hoped he was. He didn’t really need to be rescued.

  “No problem,” Jeff said. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic. A simple request—”

  “Which is all we have done,” Dougal said.

  Jeff carefully drew his pistol and held it out. MacKinnie stepped forward and took it.

  Dougal lifted the speaking tube again. “All clear,” he said pleasantly.

  The door opened and King David came in.

  Dougal stood when the king entered, so Jeff did also. And what’s the protocol for a disarmed Imperial officer meeting a colonial king? Jeff wondered. Can’t hurt to be polite. “Your Majesty,"Jeff acknowledged, and bowed.

  “This is not an official audience,” David said. “Please be seated.”

  Jeff waited until both the king and Dougal were seated before he resumed his chair. As King David took his seat, Jeff studied him. Not a bad looking fellow, he thought. And not an idiot, from everything Greenaugh says. This is a pretty stupid move, but they’ll never know just how stupid. By now Greenaugh himself is certainly listening—

  As if he were reading Jeff’s thoughts, King David said, “My lord, you are convinced we are not being overheard?”

  “Nearly certain,” Dougal said. “All through lunch the technicians detected some kind of radio wave. After the lieutenant came in here and the door was closed they couldn’t detect it any longer. I suppose it’s possible they have some other kind of secret communication we can’t stop, but I doubt it.”

  “How long have we?” King David asked.

  Dougal shrugged. “As best we know, we’re duplicating that signal exactly. At this moment, three actors who sound very much like myself, MacKinnie, and the lieutenant are exchanging meaningless pleasantries.”

  “What the devil does this mean?” Jeff demanded.

  “Please,” King David said. “Lieutenant, you have my word that no harm will come to you and that you will shortly be given your weapon and taken to a place where you can communicate with your superiors. Indeed, we will insist that you communicate. All we want is to be certain you will not interfere with our test.”

  “Then may I suggest that Your Majesty conduct his test and not interfere with an Imperial officer on duty?” Jeff said.

  “Please,” Dougal said. “If you’ll listen for a moment all will be clear. We have one question we need answered.” He looked sourly at MacKinnie. “The colonel insisted we find this out before we allow the flight. Lieutenant, we know your spaceship is in orbit around this planet. We’ve been tracking her.”

  Jeff stood abruptly. “If you damned fools fire some kind of rocket at Tombaugh you really are stupid—”

  “Sit down.” Colonel MacKinnie stood close to Jeff. “Now you’ve been blunt, let me. We’re not trying to hurt your goddam warship. What we want to know is, if we launch someone into orbit can your ship rescue her?”

  “Rescue? What — Your Majesty, just what do you contemplate doing here today?”

  “Surely that is obvious from the question,” King David said. “We are launching a spaceship. Our only problem is that it cannot return to Prince Samual’s World. Thus we need to know how long it will take your ship to rescue our helmsman.”

  “Helmswoman,” MacKinnie said.

  “The colonel’s fiancee,” King David said. “He is understandably worried about her.”

  “I see. “Jeff sat down. “May I take out my computer?”

  “Please do,” Dougal said.

  Jeff scrawled numbers across the screen. “You’re launching due east?”

  Dougal nodded. “They tell me that’s best, although I confess I don’t know why.”

  “I do.” Due east from this latitude … what orbit was Tombaugh in just now? Not true polar, but highly inclined. No problem to intercept a ship coming up from Prince Samual’s World, but to match orbits … “Your Majesty, you must not do this. Tombaugh’s defenses will be on automatic, and they might shoot down your ship—”

  “We’ve timed our launch pretty carefully,” Dougal said. “Your ship will be on the other side of Prince Samual’s World precisely because we supposed something like that. Once our
ship is up you can warn your people.”

  “I see.” Jeff scrawled more numbers. “Assuming your craft actually makes orbit — which I doubt, that’s tougher than you can possibly know — then Tombaugh should be able to match orbits in a bit more than three hours.”

  “You see,” Dougal said. Jeff noted the cabinet officer was speaking to MacKinnie. “Plenty of margin.”

  “I suppose,” MacKinnie said.

  “If Your Majesty will forgive a blunt question,” Jeff said, “I really would like to know why you’re doing this.”

  “But surely that, too, is obvious,” King David said. “As of last week I am in effective control of this planet. Presumably we will now be admitted to the Empire. Since we are about to demonstrate that we can construct a spaceship, we wish to apply for a status somewhat higher than that of a colony.”

  “Jesus Christ on a crutch.” Jeff said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  LONG PAST THUNDER

  There were a dozen officials waiting on a platform behind the office building. It had been too hot inside the office, but at least there had been air motion provided by fans. Outside there was not a breath of wind, and Prince Samual’s bright sun stood high overhead. Instantly, Jeff felt sweat running down his chest inside his tunic.

  He fingered his sidearm to be sure it was still there. As soon as he was outside the building he spoke. “Whoever’s on duty, get Captain Greenaugh at once.”

  The acknowledge symbol appeared on the screen of his pocket computer. Moments later the computer spoke to him. “Greenaugh here.”

  “Captain, there’s a lot happening. First thing is that they’re about to launch a one-way spaceship.”

  “Lieutenant, what have you been drinking?”

  Jeff patiently explained. “And they’re about to launch it now,” he finished. “I haven’t seen the ship yet, but any moment now—”

  “I don’t suppose you could delay this launch?” Greenaugh asked.