They left the facility the following morning. Merlin took Tyrant this time, Teal joining him as they followed Renouncer back into space. Once the two craft were clear of Havergal’s atmosphere, Prince Baskin issued a request for docking authorisation. Merlin, who had considered his business with the prince concluded for now, viewed the request with a familiar, nagging trepidation.
‘He wants to come along for the ride,’ he murmured to Teal, while the airlock cycled. ‘Force and wisdom, that’s exactly what it’ll be. Needs to see Struxer’s poor brigands getting their noses bloodied up close and personal, rather than hearing about it from halfway across the system.’
Teal looked unimpressed. ‘If he wants to risk his neck, who are you to stop him?’
‘Oh, nobody at all. It’s just that I work best without an audience.’
‘You’ve already got one, Merlin. Start getting used to it.’
He shrugged aside her point. He was distracted to begin with, thinking of the glass he had smuggled out of the dining room, and whether Prince Baskin had been sharp enough to notice the swap. While they were leaving Havergal he had put the glass into Tyrant’s full-spectrum analyser, but the preliminary results were not quite what he had been expecting.
‘I wasn’t kidding about the risks, you know,’ Merlin said.
‘Nor was I about wanting to see you get the syrinx. And not because I care about you all that much, either.’
He winced. ‘Don’t feel you need to spare my feelings.’
‘I’m just stating my position. You’re the means to an end. You’re searching for the means to bring about the destruction of the Huskers. The syrinx is necessary for that search, and therefore I’ll help you find it. But if there was a way of not involving you...’
‘And I thought we broke some ice back there, with all that stuff about Tierce and your daughter.’
‘It didn’t matter then, it doesn’t matter now. Not in the slightest.’
Merlin eyed the lock indicator. ‘It isn’t as clear-cut as I thought, did you know? I swiped a gene sample from his lordship. Now, if your blood had been percolating its way down the family tree the way it ought to have been, then I should have seen a very strong correlation...’
‘Wait,’ she said, face hardening as she worked through the implications of that statement. ‘You took a sample from him. What about me, Merlin? How did you get a look at my genes, without...?’
‘I sampled you.’
Teal slapped him. There had been no warning, and she only hit him the once, and for a moment afterwards it might almost have been possible to pretend that nothing had happened, so exactly had they returned to their earlier stances. But Merlin’s cheek stung like a vacuum burn. He opened his mouth, tried to think of something that would explain away her anger.
The lock opened. Prince Baskin came aboard Tyrant, wearing his armoured spacesuit with the helmet tucked under one arm.
‘There’ll be no objections, Merlin. My own ship couldn’t keep pace with Tyrant even if I wished to shadow you, so the simplest option is to join you for the operation.’ He raised a gently silencing hand before Merlin – still stung – had a chance to interject. ‘I’ll be along purely as an observer, someone with local knowledge, if it comes to that. You don’t need to lecture me on the dangers. I’ve seen my share of frontline service, as you doubtless know, having made yourself such an expert on royal affairs.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, we tracked your search patterns, while you were supposedly verifying the authenticity of the syrinx.’
‘I wanted to know everything I could about your contact with the Cohort mission.’
‘That and more, I think.’ Baskin mouthed a command into his neck ring, and Renouncer detached from the lock. ‘None of it concerns me, though, Merlin. If it amused you to sift through our many assassinations and constitutional crises, so be it. All that matters to me is the safe return of the Tactician. And I will insist on being witness to that return. Don’t insult me by suggesting that the presence of one more human on this ship will have any bearing on Tyrant’s capabilities.’
‘It’s not a taxi.’
‘But it is spacious enough for our present needs, and that is all that matters.’ He nodded at Teal. ‘Besides, I was enjoying our evening conversations too much to forego the pleasure.’
‘All right,’ Merlin said, sighing. ‘You’re along for the ride, Prince. But I make the decisions. And if I feel like pulling out of this arrangement, for any reason, I’ll do just that.’
Prince Baskin set his helmet aside and offered his empty palms. ‘There’ll be no coercion, Merlin – I could hardly force you into doing anything you disliked, could I?’
‘So long as we agree on that.’ Merlin gestured to the suite of cabins aft of the lock. ‘Teal, show him the ropes, will you? I’ve got some navigation to be getting on with. We’ll push to one gee in thirty minutes.’
Merlin turned his back on Teal and the Prince and returned to Tyrant’s command deck. He watched the dwindling trace of the Renouncer, knowing he could outpace it with ease. There would be a certain attraction in cutting and running right now, hoping that the old syrinx held together long enough for a Waynet transition, and seeing Baskin’s face when he realised he would not be returning to Havergal for centuries, if at all.
But while Merlin was capable of many regrettable things, spite was not one of his failings.
His gaze slid to the results from the analyser. He thought of running the sequence again, using the same traces from the wine glass, but the arrival of the Prince rendered that earlier sample of doubtful value. Perhaps it had been contaminated to begin with, by other members of the royal staff. But now that Baskin was aboard, Tyrant could obtain a perfect genetic readout almost without trying.
The words of Baskin returned to mind, as if they held some significance Merlin could not yet see for himself: If it amused you to sift through our many assassinations and constitutional crises, so be it.
Assassinations.
When Merlin was satisfied that Prince Baskin’s bones were up to the strain, he pushed Tyrant to two gees. It was uncomfortable for all of them, but bearable provided they kept to the lounge and avoided moving around too much. ‘We could go faster,’ Merlin said, as if it was no great achievement. ‘But we’d be putting out a little more exotic radiation than I’d like, and I’d rather not broadcast our intentions too strongly. Besides, two gees will get us to Mundar in plenty of time, and if you find it uncomfortable we can easily dial down the thrust for a little while.’
‘You make light of this capability,’ Prince Baskin said, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted a drinking vessel to his lips. ‘Yet this ship is thousands of years beyond anything possessed by either side in our system.’
Merlin tried to look sympathetic. ‘Maybe if you weren’t busy throwing rocks at each other, you could spend a little time on the other niceties of life, such as cooperation and mutual advancement.’
‘We will,’ Baskin affirmed. ‘I’ll bend my life to it. I’m not a zealot for war. If I felt that there was a chance of a negotiated ceasefire, under terms amicable to both sides, I’d have seized it years ago. But our ideological differences are too great, our mutual grievances too ingrained. Sometimes I even think to myself that it wouldn’t matter who wins, just as long as one side prevails over the other. There are reasonable men and women in Gaffurius, it’s just...’ But he trailed off, as if even he viewed this line of argument as treasonable.
‘If you thought that way,’ Teal said, ‘the simplest thing would be to let the enemy win. Give them the Iron Tactician, if you think it will make that much difference.’
‘After all our advances...? No. It’s too late for that sort of idealism. Besides, we aren’t dealing with Gaffurius. It’s the brigands who are holding us to ransom.’
‘Face it,’ Merlin said. ‘For all this talk of peace, of victory – you’d miss the war.’
‘I wouldn’t.’
‘I’m not so sure. You used to play at battle,
didn’t you? Toy soldiers and tabletop military campaigns, you said. It’s been in your blood from the moment you took your first breath. You were the boy who dreamed of war.’
‘I changed,’ Baskin said. ‘Saw through those old distractions. I spoke of Lurga, didn’t I – the last and greatest of our surface cities? Before the abandonment my home was Lurga’s imperial palace, a building that was itself as grand as some cities. I often walk it in my dreams, Merlin. But that’s where it belongs now: back in my childhood, along with all those toy soldiers.’
‘Lurga must have been something to see,’ Merlin said.
‘Oh, it was. We built and rebuilt. They couldn’t bear it, of course, the enemy. That’s why Lurga was always the focus of their attacks, right until the end.’
‘There was a bad one once, wasn’t there?’ Merlin asked.
‘Too many to mention.’
‘I mean, a particularly bad one – a direct strike against the palace itself. It’s in your public history – I noticed it while I was going through your open records, on Havergal. You’d have been six or seven at the time, so you’d easily remember it. An assassination attempt, plainly. The Gaffurians were trying to bite the head off the Havergal ruling elite.’
‘It was bad, yes. I was injured, quite seriously, by the collapse of part of the palace. Trapped alone and in the dark for days, until rescue squads broke through. I... recovered, obviously. But it’s a painful episode and not one I care to dwell on. Good people died around me, Merlin. No child should have to see that.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘Perhaps it was the breaking of me, in the end,’ Baskin said. ‘Until then I’d only known war as a series of distant triumphs. Glorious victories and downplayed defeats. After the attack, I knew what blood looked like up close. I healed well enough, but only after months of recuperation. And when I returned to my studies, and some engagement with public life, I found that I’d begun to lose my taste for war. I look back on that little boy that I once was, so single-mindedly consumed by war and strategy, and almost wonder if I’m the same person.’ He set aside his drinking vessel, rubbing at the sore muscles in his arm. ‘You’ll forgive me, both of you. I feel in need of rest. Our ships can only sustain this sort of acceleration for a few tens of minutes, not hour after hour.’
‘It’s hard on us all,’ Merlin said, feeling a glimmer of empathy for his unwanted guest. ‘And you’re right about one thing, Prince. I want an end to the war with the Huskers. But not at any cost.’
When they were alone Teal said: ‘You’ve got some explaining to do. If it wasn’t for Baskin I’d have forced it out of you with torture by now.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t. All that screaming would have made our guest distinctly uncomfortable. And have you ever tried getting blood out of upholstery?’ Merlin flashed a smile. But Teal’s hard mask of an expression told him she was in no mood for banter.
‘Why were you so interested in his genetic profile?’
There were sealed doors between the lounge and the quarters assigned to the Prince, but the ship was silent under normal operation and Merlin found himself glancing around and lowering his voice before answering.
‘I just wanted peace of mind, Teal. I just thought that if I could find a genetic match between you and Prince Baskin, it would settle things for good, allow you to put your mind to rest about Cupis...’
‘Put my mind to rest.’
‘I know I shouldn’t have sampled you without your permission. It was just some hair left on your pillow, with a skin flakes...’ Merlin silenced himself. ‘Now that we’re aboard, the ship can run a profile just by sequencing the cells it picks up through the normal air circulation filters.’
Teal still had her arm out, her look defiant. But slowly she pulled back the arm and slid her sleeve back down. ‘Run your damned tests. You’ve started this, you may as well finish it.’
‘Are you sure, Teal? It may not get us any nearer an answer of what happened to your bloodline.’
‘I said finish it,’ Teal answered.
Tyrant slipped across the system, into the contested space between the two stars. Battle continued to rage across a dozen worlds and countless more moons, minor planets and asteroids. Fleets were engaging on a dozen simultaneous fronts, their energy bursts spangling the night sky across light hours of distance. Every radio channel crackled with military traffic, encrypted signals, blatant propaganda, screams of help or mercy from stricken crews.
Tyrant steered clear of the worst of it. But even as they approached Mundar, Merlin picked out more activity than he had hoped for. Gaffurian patrol groups were swinging suspiciously close to the brigands’ asteroid, as if something had begun to attract their interest. So far they were keeping clear of the predicted defence perimeter, but their presence put Merlin on edge. It didn’t help that the Gaffurian incursions were drawing a counter-response from Havergal squadrons. The nearest battlefronts were still light-minutes away, but the last thing Merlin needed was a new combat zone opening up right where he had business of his own.
‘I was hoping for a clear theatre of action,’ he told Baskin. ‘Something nice and quiet, where I could do my business without a lot of messy distractions.’
‘Gaffurian security may have picked up rumours about the Tactician by this point,’ Baskin said.
‘And that wasn’t worth sharing with me before now?’
‘I said rumours, Merlin – not hard intelligence. Or they may just be taking a renewed interest in the brigands. They’re as much a thorn in the enemy’s side as they are in ours.’
‘I like them more and more.’
They were a day out when Merlin risked a quick snoop with Tyrant’s long-range sensors. Baskin and Teal were on the command deck as the scans refreshed and updated, overlaid with the intelligence schematics Merlin had already examined on the Renouncer. Mundar was a fuzzy rock traced through with the equally ghostly fault-lines of shafts, corridors, internal pressure vaults and weapons emplacements.
‘That was a risky thing to do’ Baskin said, while Teal nodded her agreement.
‘If they picked up anything,’ Merlin said, ‘it would have been momentary and on a spread of frequencies and particle bands they wouldn’t normally expect. They’ll put it down to sensor malfunctions and move on.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
Merlin stretched out his hands and cracked his knuckles, as if he were preparing to climb a wall. ‘Let’s think like Struxer. He’s got his claws on something precious, a one-off machine, so chances are he won’t put the Tactician anywhere vulnerable, especially with these patrol groups sniffing around.’
‘How does that help us?’
‘Because it narrows down his options. That deep vault there – do you think it would suit?’
‘Perhaps. The main thing is to declare our intentions; to give Struxer an unambiguous idea of your capabilities.’ Baskin danced his own finger across the display. ‘You’ll open with a decisive but pin-point attack. Enough to shake them up, and let them know we absolutely mean business. At what distance can you launch a strike?’
‘We’ll be in optimum charm-torp range in about six hours. I can lock in the targeting solutions now, if you like. But we’ll have a sharper view of Mundar the nearer we get.’
‘Would they be able to see us that soon?’ Teal asked.
Merlin was irritated by the question, but only because it had been the next thing on his mind.
‘From what we understand of your ship’s sensor footprint, they’ll be able to pick you out inside a volume of radius one and a half light seconds. That’s an estimate, though. Their weapons will be kinetic launchers, pulse beams, drone missiles. Can you deal with that sort of thing?’
‘Provided I’m not having a bad day.’
Baskin extended his own finger at the scans, wavering under the effort. ‘These cratered emplacements are most likely the sites of their kinetic batteries. I suggest a surgical strike against all of them, in
cluding the ones around the other side of Mundar. Can you do it?’
‘Twelve charm-torps should take care of them. Which is handy, because that’s all I’ve got left. We’ll still have the gamma-cannons and the nova-mine launchers, if things get sticky.’
‘If I know Struxer, they will.’ Something twitched in Baskin’s cheek, some nervous, betraying tic. ‘But the deaths will be all on his side, not ours. If that’s the cost of enforcing peace, so be it.’
Merlin eyed him carefully. ‘I’ve never been very good with that sort of calculus.’
‘None of us like it,’ Baskin said.
Teal went off to catch some sleep until they approached the attack threshold. Merlin grabbed a few hours as well, but his rest was fitful and he soon found himself returning to the command deck, watching as the scans slowly sharpened and their view of Mundar grew more precise. Tyrant was using passive sensors now, but these were already improving on the earlier active snapshot. Merlin was understandably on edge, though. They were backing toward the asteroid, and if there was ever a chance of their exhaust emissions being picked up, now was the time. Merlin had done what he could, trading deceleration efficiency for a constantly altering thrust angle that ought to provide maximum cover, but nothing was guaranteed.
‘I thought I’d find you here,’ Baskin said, pinching at the corners of his eyes as he entered the room. ‘You’ve barely slept since we left Havergal, have you?’
‘You don’t look much more refreshed, Prince.’
‘I know – I saw myself in the mirror just now. Sometimes when I look at my own portrait, I barely recognise myself. I think I can be excused a little anxiety, though. So much depends on the next few hours, Merlin. I think these may be the most critical hours of my entire career. My entire life, even.’
Merlin waited until the Prince had taken his seat, folding his bones with care. ‘You mentioned Struxer back there.’
‘Did I?’
‘The intelligence briefings told me very little, Prince – even the confidential files I lifted from your sealed archives on Havergal. But you spoke as if you knew the man.’
The Iron Tactician (NewCon Press Novellas (Set 1), #1) Page 6
