by Chris Bunch
“Yessir,” Garvin said. “Thank you, sir.”
• • •
Haemer escorted the out-system visitors to C-Cumbre’s elaborate if seldom-used conference room, and aides offered refreshments. For a time, he tried light conversation, which Redruth seemed amiably willing to continue indefinitely.
Finally, the governor general couldn’t restrain himself: “Protector Redruth, what have you heard of late from the Confederation?”
Redruth smiled wryly. “Nothing. I was about to ask the same question, but you just answered it for me. Absolutely nothing. No corns, no visitors, no naval ships, no convoys, and the handful of independent merchants who’ve visited my planets also come from the fringes, and are as much in the dark as we are.
“I chanced sending a corvette with two escorts toward Centrum almost two E-months ago. They’ve vanished … or at least we’ve had no word, and they’ve not responded to any of my corns.”
Haemer and Williams looked carefully at the Protector, trying to see if he was lying, but his bland face showed nothing but mild worry and concern.
“And that, of course, is the reason for my visit.”
Haemer stiffened. “Oh?”
“I must plan my economy, my strategy, as if some sort of possibly long-lasting interregnum has occurred,” Redruth said. “I don’t know what’s happened with the Confederation … certainly there were reports of civil unrest and even systems withdrawing from its umbrella before this strange silence.
“But I’m a man of action, not thought, so my plans are simple — I stand alone, and must guarantee peace and security to my people. I’ve begun a significant shipbuilding program, and will need additional ores, which I propose to procure … purchase … from the Cumbre system.”
Haemer relaxed slightly. “Good,” he said. “Obviously, being cut off from the Confederation has done our metals trade no good whatsoever. I’m delighted you’ve decided to increase your quota, and our mining corporations should have no trouble meeting any requirements.”
“I didn’t think there would be a problem,” Redruth said. “However, I’m concerned about the Musth.”
“In what way?”
“I know well their ambitions,” Redruth said. “They aspire to control the universe, a step at a time, and I was afraid that, with their learning the Confederation no longer stands behind us, they might become, shall we say, ambitious.”
“I’ve been worried about the same thing,” Haemer said. “But as yet our relations continue cordial.”
“Perhaps,” Celidon said, “we might offer increased security to the Cumbre system, since you have no naval capabilities and we do. Perhaps we might think of stationing half a dozen of our ships on D-Cumbre. I’m sure the system’s resources would be sufficient to fund them, and the citizens would be grateful.”
Haemer’s mouth was dry. He considered his response carefully.
“Thank you for the offer,” Caud Williams said smoothly before Haemer spoke. “It’s magnificent seeing fellow humans jump to our aid. But your presence might well trigger the response we all fear.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm detectable in his speech.
“I don’t follow,” Celidon snapped, but Redruth was nodding thoughtfully.
“Just this,” Williams continued. “The Musth, as you point out, are a very ambitious species. They think their presence in the Cumbre system is justified, and would, I’m very sure, be delighted to increase it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they would like total domination of at least this planet and its resources.
“If Larix and Kura suddenly show an increased military presence in the Cumbre system, that might serve to tip the balance, and give some of their more aggressive warlords reason to exacerbate the situation.”
“What of it?” Celidon said scornfully. “Certainly you’re not suggesting these aliens are superior to Man, are you? We’ve never stepped back before any challenge, and sure as hell can’t start now. All beasts recognize fear, which gives them reason to attack.”
“The Musth are hardly beasts,” Williams said.
Celidon shrugged. “They aren’t human … I need no other description.”
Haemer stepped into the silence. “My military commander makes an excellent point,” he said. “Any incident, here on the frontiers of Man’s expansion, might well spark war, and without the possibility of reinforcement from the Confederation, that might prove disastrous. I include Larix and Kura in my assessment.”
Celidon snorted disbelief. Redruth nodded. “You have a point,” he said. “So let us consider the details of our new trading agreement. That should be more than enough.
“For the time being, at least.”
CHAPTER
23
“Well, Mary dipped in creosote,” Njangu Yoshitaro exclaimed. “Just who do you know … or blow?”
“Rather attractive, ain’t it?” Garvin said, smugly admiring the two stripes of a finf on his sleeve. “Nice to see that Strike Force Lit Twit is finally recognizing its best.”
“Talk to me, little white brother,” Njangu growled. “Or I’ll smite the living hell outa thee.”
Nganju whistled when Garvin told him about Celidon, had him stop the story, found Petr, and had Garvin start all over.
“Oh boy,” Kipchak said. “So Redruth’s got big eyes for Cumbre, eh? It sure never shits, but it pours all right. Musth to the front of us, ’Raum to the left, Redruth’s bullies to the right, and frigging nobody to cover our young rears. Oh dear, oh dear, oh my spectacles and gloves.”
“I got a question, Garvin,” Nganju said. “Everybody’s bustin’ ass getting ready to go to the field to haunt the wild ’Raum, and you’ve got time to flaunt your newly striped young butt around. In a word, howcum?”
“Six hours off, reward from Alt Wu, my lovable and never sufficiently blessed platoon leader. With permission to honk into civilization for those six hours.”
“But you had to come all the way to I&R to rub it in on your ex-best friend, eh?”
Garvin’s smile vanished. He looked pointedly at Petr, who inclined his head in understanding. “Private business, eh? Thanks for coming by and telling me, Garvin. I always need something new to brood about.” Petr went back into the squad bay.
“ ’Kay,” Yoshitaro said. “What’s whupping?”
“Wanted to ask you about options.”
“What sort?”
“The sort that we don’t appear to have, Njangu. Look. I joined the army because … because things were getting a little interesting. I figured I’d give it an honest straight shot, get out after one term, and have those certain problems half a goddamned galaxy away.”
“And I joined because a judge was going to fry my brain otherwise. How come you’ve always been so close-mouthed about what happened?”
“That doesn’t matter right now … and stick to the subject, dammit. Anyway. I never figured I’d end up out back of God’s behind, and I sure as hell didn’t plan on the goddamned Confederation doing a vanishing act on me,” Garvin said.
“Nor me,” Njangu confessed. “I was sort of hoping to get a nice soft assignment somewhere close to Centrum where I could shuffle stage right at the proper moment and continue doing what I was doing before. Except this time without getting caught. Or, if I couldn’t manage that, like you, finishing one term and having a clean record to counterbalance future villainies.
“It looks, now that you brought it up,” he went on, “like both of us are a little light on controlling what comes next. If that’s what you meant by options.”
“It was,” Garvin said. “You got any brilliant ideas?”
“Mmmh,” Yoshitaro said. “We stick around here, somebody’s liable to blow our silly fool heads down around our butts.”
“Right.”
“Things don’t appear like they’re going to get any more peaceful, either,” he said.
“Right again, I’m pretty sure,” Garvin agreed.
“So that leaves three options,” Njangu
said. “We could buy our way out.”
“You know anybody with money?” Garvin asked.
“Nope, so that’s dead, unless you find a Real Friend with your new comrades up there in the Heights. Option two — desert.”
“To who?”
“Shit, I dunno. I’m thinking out loud. It’d be pretty hard to disappear into Leggett, even if I don’t think the Force’d look for us too hard. But there doesn’t appear, at least from the outside, to be any really good rogueries for somebody like me to disappear into. You could always do some fine gambling to pay the rent. Maybe I should be your bodyguard.”
“Gambling don’t cut it,” Garvin said. “Not on a long-range basis. Sooner or later some bastard figures out you’re better than he is, and always hold the aces, and so he breaks your thumbs out of general dissatisfaction. Hard to deal seconds with busted finger bones.”
“Sounds like you know for sure,” Njangu said casually.
“Stop digging,” Garvin warned. “Some day I’ll tell you. Anyway, not only can gambling get dangerous, but everybody I know who chased the speckled cubes sooner or later started betting on something else that he didn’t know squat about, and lost his shorts.”
“So deserting for a life of crime doesn’t appear too good,” Njangu said. “We could sleaze our way to another island, and actually work for a living.” He shuddered slightly. “I know a village where we could go fishing.”
“That really thrums a string deep within,” Garvin said sarcastically.
“With the exception of a certain girl-child, it doesn’t,” Njangu said. “What about you? You’ve been swinging around with the rich. Anything there?”
“Not yet,” Garvin said. “But I’m going into Leggett in a few minutes. Maybe something’ll develop. That’s a very thin maybe. But so far, nothing.” He thought. “We could always see if the bandits need a training cadre.”
“Not bright,” Njangu said. “Maybe we’re a bunch of clonk-heads at the moment, but sooner or later we’ll get moves. When we do I’d rather be looking down the sights than be looked at.”
“True.” Garvin sighed. “So what do we do? Just soldier on?”
“That’s the best I can think of, right now,” Njangu said, a bit disconsolately. “You know, since I’ve always thought of myself as a dude with an eye for the main chance, you’ve just managed to depress me.”
“I managed to depress myself,” Garvin said. “Guess we’ll just have to keep thinking.”
“Guess so,” Njangu said. “There’s got to be something. And thanks for dropping by, Finf Jaansma.”
“My pleasure, Striker Yoshitaro.”
• • •
Garvin was pacing back and forth outside Leggett Station, looking for Jasith’s little red lifter. He paid little attention to the long black antigrav lim that slid up beside the curb, other than a mildly envious stare until the side door lifted, and Jasith leaned out.
“Garvin,” she called. “Over here.” She didn’t sound happy.
Garvin, with thoughts of lim backseats dancing in his head, hurried over. He started to bend over for a kiss, got a swift, tiny headshake no.
“Garvin, I’d like you to meet my father,” she said. The tall, bluff man sitting beside her in the back leaned over, holding out a hand.
“Godrevy Mellusin,” he said. “Jasith said you had a short pass into town, and neither of you had specific plans, so I thought it might be appropriate for me to buy you dinner.”
Garvin was very pleased with himself for not spreading his arms to the heavens, and bellowing, “Why frigging me alla goddamned time, God! All I wanted was some frigging flower petals!” Instead, he shook Mellusin’s hand with a firm, manly gesture.
“It’s the least I could do for anyone who saved our lives two weeks ago,” Mellusin said. “Besides, I wanted to meet my daughter’s young man. I remembered when I was young, with strong appetites but nothing to satisfy them with, and thought I might help.”
Garvin couldn’t tell if there was a twinkle of slightly malicious amusement in Mellusin’s eye. “Get in, lad,” he said. “I’ve already made arrangements at the club.”
“Sorry,” Jasith whispered as he got in. “I got mouse-trapped.”
• • •
Garvin, in his travels, had eaten at a couple of exclusive clubs, and shuddered at the thought of a third. Not only wasn’t he going to have a romantic evening, but he was going to be fed a dinner slightly worse than the mess-hall meal he’d passed on back at Camp Mahan.
But he ate liver-and-nut pâté with consommé; a roast with a tart berry stuffing and mustard sauce; a red, astringent vegetable; a warm salad with hot bacon and a sweetish brandy dressing; and a chocolate soufflé with vanilla sauce for dessert. Before that, Mellusin had summoned a waiter, and asked if there was any of the Earth Taittinger left. The man grudged there were a few cases.
After the man had left, Mellusin shook his head. “Most sommeliers think they own the cellar or at any rate are paid on its size, not for their service. Sad.”
“Earth champagne?” Garvin said. “I’m not sure a one-stripe promotion’s worth it.”
“Anything’s worth champagne, Garvin,” Godrevy said. “At my age, just having survived another night’s enough. Still, I suppose we’re going to have to think about that, what with the present situation. The local fizzy grape’s only fit for shoe polish.” He turned serious. “What do you think about losing contact with the Confederation?”
“I don’t know anything, sir,” Garvin said. “But I don’t like it.”
“Who does?” Jasith said. “No new fashions, gossip, celebrities, music, holos … we might as well be living in a vacuum.”
“We are, my dear,” her father said.
“You know what I mean,” Jasith said.
“Sometimes I think my daughter wants me to believe she’s an airbrain,” Mellusin said. “It’d make me more vulnerable.”
Jasith laughed. “Now you’re onto me.”
The champagne came, was uncorked, tasted, pronounced acceptable, and poured around; then the dinner began arriving.
“Since you avoided my question, Garvin,” Mellusin said, “let me ask another. What’s your opinion of Protector Redruth’s visit? Don’t look startled. I know about most things that happen in this system a few seconds after they occur. The Mellusins are among the Rentiers, after all.”
“I’m not sure I should say anything, sir,” Garvin said. “Most everything that happened recently is classified, I’m pretty sure.”
“Careful, aren’t you? I notice you didn’t even admit to Redruth’s being here.”
“Yes sir.”
“Most people your age can’t wait to make sure everyone knows they’ve got a secret, if they have one.”
“I learned better some time ago.”
Mellusin waited, but Garvin didn’t explain. “Well,” the man said, “I’m not at all pleased. He shows up on C-Cumbre, meets with Haemer and his staff for half a planetary day, then returns to Larix/Kura. No banquets, no ceremonial visits to D-Cumbre, no corns with any of the people he met when he was here last.
“Such as myself,” Mellusin added. “I do not like that at all. Since he went to C-Cumbre, his visit must have had something to do with the system’s minerals. Yet he made no contact with me, and I own one of the larger mining establishments … even after the sabotage a few months ago. That I find worrisome. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so, sir,” Garvin said. “This roast is really excellent, isn’t it?”
“Very well. I give up, Finf Clam,” Mellusin said. “Your young man has a great deal of discretion.”
Jasith giggled, remembering Loy Kouro’s swimming lesson.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, Father.”
“Very well … I’ll now look for a completely neutral topic of conversation. As an offworlder, what do you think of D-Cumbre, Garvin?”
“Interesting.”
“What planet are you from?�
��
“Various, sir. My people traveled a great deal.”
“What line were they in?”
“Promotion, sir. Family entertainment.”
“Very interesting. And you chose not to follow them in the same field?”
“I did for a time, sir,” Garvin said. “But circumstances changed, and I decided to enlist in the army.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mellusin said. “I’ve often wondered what would’ve happened if I’d chosen the colors instead of what I did. And so you were sent here, to the edge of nothing.”
“So far,” Garvin said, “I like Cumbre.” He gave Jasith a meaningful look, and was rewarded when she slipped her foot out of her shoe and rubbed it up and down his inner thigh, hidden by the table’s long cloth.
“Good,” Mellusin approved. “There’s a place on the frontiers for an ambitious young woman or man.”
“As a matter of fact,” Garvin said, “a friend of mine and I were talking about that very idea this evening. Assuming I take my discharge here on D-Cumbre after one term, what might my options be?”
Jasith slid her bare foot into Garvin’s lap, began moving her toes.
“I noticed you know which fork to use … and I’ve already complimented you on your discretion,” Mellusin said. “That would make you distinctly employable with one of the Rentier firms. For instance, Mellusin Mining could always use a good man in security.”
Garvin nodded. “Actually, I think, by the time I finish with the Strike Force, my fascination with being shot at will be a thing of the past.”
Mellusin smiled. “Ambition is well rewarded here,” he said. “As I assume you’ve noted, D-Cumbre has its own class system.”
“So I’ve seen,” Garvin said, his voice flat.
“Some say it’s the natural order of things,” Mellusin said.
“I’ve noted that as well.”
“Garvin was the one who had the, uh, encounter with Loy Kouro,” Jasith said, then looked at the two men questioningly, unsure whether she should’ve said anything.
