by Timothy Zahn
And seated there waiting for us was King Peter.
He was a bit older than I'd expected—somewhere in his eighties, I guessed—clean shaven instead of with the bushy beard I'd sort of expected every self-respecting monarch automatically came equipped with. His clothing was also something of a disappointment: no crown and royal robes, but merely a subdued white suit with gold buttons and trim. Kulasawa's outfit, I thought uneasily, was going to make him look a little shabby, too.
"Welcome to the Freedom's Peace," he said, rising to his feet as we turned to face him. "I'm King Peter, titular ruler of this world. I trust you've been properly looked after?"
"Yes, sir, we have," I said, suddenly realizing to my chagrin that Suzenne hadn't given us any pointers in protocol. "I mean, Your Highness—"
" 'Sir' will suffice, Captain Smith," he assured me, stepping up and offering me his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you." "Thank you, sir," I managed, shaking his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, too."
He smiled. "Actually, a simple 'Peter' will do, if you're so inclined," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "The citizens here like the idea of having a monarch, but we all have too much common sense to take the idea too seriously."
He took a step to the side and offered his hand to Rhonda. "Engineer Blankenship," he nodded, shaking her hand. "Welcome."
"Thank you sir," she said. "You have a beautiful world."
"We like it," he said, moving to Kulasawa. "And Scholar Kulasawa. What do you think of the Freedom's Peace, Scholar?"
"It's more than merely beautiful," she said. "I'm looking forward to examining it in much more detail."
"You'll be given that chance," Peter promised gravely, waving toward the wraparound couch. "But please; let's be comfortable."
We crossed to the couch and sat down, Peter and Suzenne taking one end as the rest of us spread out around the curve, Kulasawa taking the far end. "I'm sure you have many questions about our world," Peter said as Suzenne began pouring drinks from the carafe. "If there's anything you'd like to know right now, I'll do my best to answer."
I took a deep breath. So he wanted questions. So OK, here it came. "I have one,"
I said. "Are we the first visitors you've had in the past fifty years?"
Peter and Suzenne exchanged glances. "An interesting question," Peter murmured.
"A very interesting question, indeed."
"I thought so," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. Whatever was going on here, that single glance had been all I needed to know I'd hit the target dead center. Whatever the hell the target was. "I'd like an answer, if I may."
A muscle in Peter's jaw tightened briefly. "As it happens, you're the fourth Expansion transport to find us," he said.
I felt Rhonda stir beside me. "And what happened to the other three?" I asked carefully.
"The crews are still here," Peter said, his gaze steady on me. "Most of them.
There were two... fatalities."
"What kind of fatalities?" Kulasawa asked.
"They were killed trying to escape," Suzenne said. "I'm sorry."
"What do you mean, escape?" I asked.
"What she means is that you can't leave, my friends," Peter said quietly.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to stay with us for the rest of your lives." A lot of different thoughts go shooting through your mind when you hear something like that. My first thought was that this was some kind of strange joke Peter and Suzenne liked to play on visitors, that any second now they would smile and say, no, they were just kidding. My second thought was that the TransShipMint Corporation was going to be seriously unhappy if I disappeared without paying back their two hundred thousand. My third was that I wasn't going to be very happy either if I wasn't allowed to make that debt right.
And the fourth, which overrode them all, was that I was damned if I would walk meekly into this cage they were casually telling me to step into.
I kept my eyes on Peter, trying hard to think. Were the guards outside monitoring us? Probably not. Could Rhonda and I take out Peter and Suzenne?
Probably. But that wouldn't get us across the colony and back to the Sergei Rock.
And even if we got there, would it do any good? There were still those InReds hanging around out there. We knew they scared away normal flapblacks—were they waiting like ghostly sharks to grab us and haul us to oblivion?
Rhonda was the first to break the silence. "I don't understand," she said.
"You can't just order us to stay here."
"I'm afraid we have to," Peter said. "You see, if you leave you'll bring others back here. That's something we can't allow to happen. I'm sorry."
"Why not?" Kulasawa asked.
Frowning, I turned to look at her. My ears hadn't deceived me: her face was as calm and controlled as her voice.
Peter must have noticed it, too. "If you're expecting to be rescued, Scholar, I
can assure you that the chances of that are vanishingly small. None of the other transports who came here ever had anyone come looking for them."
"And you think that means no one will come looking for us?" Kulasawa asked.
"Did you tell anyone else where you were going?" Suzenne countered. "Or where you would be looking for us?"
Kulasawa shrugged fractionally. "That's irrelevant."
"Not really," Suzenne said. "You see, we've learned from the other fortune-hunters that a prize like the Freedom's Peace tends to inspire great secrecy on the part of the searchers. All any of you want is to make sure you get all the profit or glory—"
"That's enough, Suzenne," Peter murmured. "Let me hasten to assure you that you'll all be treated well, with homes and jobs found for you—"
"Suppose we don't choose to roll over and show our throats," Kulasawa interrupted. "Suppose we decide we're not going to feed your megalomania."
Peter's eyebrows lifted, just a bit. "This has nothing to do with megalomania," he said. "Or with me."
"Then what does it have to do with?" Rhonda asked quietly.
"The fact that if the Expansion learns where we are, they'll want to bring us back," Peter said. "We don't want that."
Kulasawa frowned. "You must be joking," she said. "You'd kidnap us for that?
Do you seriously think anyone in the Expansion cares a pfennig's worth for any of you?"
"If you think that, why are you here?" Peter asked, regarding her thoughtfully.
"And please don't try to tell me it was in the pure pursuit of knowledge," he added as she began to speak. "The more I study you, the more I'm convinced you're not actually a scholar at all."
Kulasawa favored him with a thin smile. "One for two, Your Highness," she said.
"You're right, I'm not a scholar."
I looked at Rhonda, saw my own surprise mirrored in her face. "Then who are you?" I demanded.
"But on the other point, you're dead wrong," Kulasawa continued, ignoring my question. "Pure knowledge is exactly the reason I'm here."
"I see," Peter said. "Any bit of knowledge in particular you're interested in?"
"Of course," Kulasawa said. "You don't really think I care about your little world and your quaint little backwater duck-pond monarchy, do you?"
"Yet you were willing to pay three hundred thousand neumarks to come here,"
Rhonda pointed out.
"Don't worry, I intend to get full value for my money," Kulasawa assured her coldly. "By the time I'm finished here, I'll have completely changed the shape of Expansion space travel."
There was a sort of strangled-off gasp from the other end of the couch. I turned that direction just in time to see Peter put a restraining hand on Suzenne's arm. "What do you mean by that?" the king asked, his voice steady.
"It should be obvious, even to you," Kulasawa said, regarding both of them with narrowed eyes. Clearly, she'd caught the reaction, too. "I want those ion-capture engines of yours."
"Of course," I murmured under my breath. It was obvious, at least in retrospect.
&nbs
p; The current limit on spaceship size was due solely to the limits in the power and size of their drives; and those limits were there solely because the Jovians' unique engineering genius had died with their bid for independence from Earth. Examination of the Freedom's Peace's drive would indeed revolutionize Expansion space travel.
As I said, obvious. And yet, at the same time I felt obscurely disappointed.
After all of Kulasawa's lies and manipulation, it seemed like such a petty thing to have invaded an entire world for.
But if Peter was feeling similarly, he wasn't showing it. In fact, I could swear that some of the tension had actually left his face. "I presume you weren't planning to disassemble them for shipment aboard your transport," he said.
"Or did you think we would have the plans lying conveniently around for you to steal?"
"Actually, I was hoping to persuade you to come back with me," Kulasawa said.
"Though the engines are my primary interest, I'm sure there are other bits of technological magic the Jovian engineers incorporated into the design of this place that would be worth digging out."
"I'm sure there are," Peter agreed. "But you already have our answer to that."
"But why don't you want to come back with us?" Rhonda asked. "We have true interstellar travel now—there's no need or reason for you to stay out here this way."
"She's right," I put in. "If you want your own world, I'm sure the Expansion could provide you with something."
"We already have our own world," Suzenne pointed out.
"I meant a real world," I said.
"So did I," Suzenne said. "You think of a world as a physical planet orbiting a
physical sun; no more, no less. I think of a world as a group of people living together. I think of the society and culture and quality of life."
"Our ancestors left Sol for reasons involving all of those," Peter added.
"Don't forget, we've had three other visitors from the Expansion, from which we've learned a great deal about your current society. Frankly, there are things happening there we'd just as soon not involve ourselves with."
"Typical provincial thinking," Kulasawa said contemptuously. "Fear of the unknown, and a ruthless suppression of anything that might rock the boat of the people in power. And I presume that if I wanted to put my proposal to the whole colony you'd refuse to let me?"
"There would be no need for that," Peter said. "The decision has already been made."
"Of course," Kulasawa sniffed. "The glories of absolute monarchy. Dieu et mon droit, ex cathedra, and all that. The king speaks, and the people submit."
"The Citizens' Council agreed with the decision," Suzenne told her. "All the citizens understand our reasoning."
Kulasawa shrugged. "Fine," she said. "As I said, I'd hoped to persuade you.
But if you won't come willingly, you'll just have to do so unwillingly."
Peter's forehead furrowed slightly. "An interesting threat. May I ask how you intend to carry it out?"
"As I said, I could start by addressing the people," Kulasawa said. "Give them a
taste of real democracy for a change."
Peter shook his head. "I already said you wouldn't persuade them."
"Then why are you afraid to let me try?" Kulasawa countered. "Still, there's no reason to upset your well-trained sheep out there. All I really need to do is explain to you why you can't make me disappear as conveniently as you have all the others. Why there will be people who'll come looking for me."
I frowned at her, a sudden hope stirring within me. Up until that moment, it hadn't really sunk in on an emotional level that what we were discussing here was a permanent—and I mean permanent—exile to this place. If Kulasawa had some kind of trick up her sleeve that could get us home...
"By all means," Suzenne invited. "Tell us what sort of clues or hints you left behind."
"No clues or hints," Kulasawa said loftily. "Merely a simple matter of who I am."
"And who are you?" Suzenne asked.
And at that moment, the double doors behind Peter swung open again. I looked that direction to see Jimmy come into the room, his hair looking even more unkempt than usual. He must have missed seeing Peter and Suzenne, with their backs mostly to him; but he spotted me instantly. "Captain!" he said, bounding toward us as the doors closed again behind him.
I hissed under my breath, trying to gesture his attention to Peter without being obvious about it. Talk about your oblivious bull in a china shop—
But he was bubbling too hard to even notice. "Guess what?" he called, a huge grin plastered across his face as he came around the end of the couch. "These people can talk to the flapblacks!"
I froze, my gesturing hand still in midair. "What?"
"Yeah, they can talk to—" He broke step, suddenly flustered as he abruptly seemed to focus on the rest of the people seated in front of him on the couch.
"Oh. Uh... I'm sorry..."
"No, that's all right," I said, throwing a hard glance at Peter. But his face was unreadable. "Tell us more."
Jimmy's eyes darted around, his throat working uncertainly. "Uh... well, I was talking to one of their musicians," he said hesitantly. "And he said..."
His voice trailed away. "He said we can communicate mentally with the beings you call flapblacks," Peter said. His voice was calm again, and with a flash of insight I realized that this was the secret he'd thought Kulasawa had stumbled on earlier when she'd spoken of revolutionizing space travel. "We would have told you about it eventually."
"Of course," I said. "How about telling us about it now?"
He held his hands out, palm upward. "There's not much to tell," he said. "Our first hint was a few years out, when we began to realize that the supposedly imaginary friends our first-born children were telling their parents about were not, in fact, imaginary at all. It took awhile longer to realize who and what the beings were they were in contact with."
"And Jimmy said you talked to them?"
"A figure of speech," Peter said. "It's actually a direct mental contact, a wordless communication."
"Why didn't you tell the Habitats?" Kulasawa put it. "You must have still been in contact with Jupiter at that point."
"We were already beginning to fade," Suzenne said. "By the time we'd figured it all out, it would have been problematic whether we could have gotten enough of the message through."
"And besides, you thought it might be a useful secret to keep to yourselves?"
Kulasawa suggested, smiling thinly.
Peter shook his head. "You don't understand," he said. "In the first place, it's hardly a marketable secret—any child who's conceived and brought to term away from large planetary masses will have the ability. Everyone aboard has it now, except of course for the handful of recent visitors like yourselves."
"That doesn't change the fact that it's an enormously useful talent,"
Kulasawa said. "You people don't need a musicmaster to get where you're going, do you?
You just order the flapblack to take you where you want to go, and that's it."
"It's not like that at all," Suzenne protested. "They're not servants or slaves we can order to do anything. It's more like..." She floundered.
"I sometimes think of it as similar to those dolphin and whale shows they have on Earth," Peter said. "You train them by giving them a reward when they do something you want, but you aren't really communicating with them. In this case, you provide the reward—the music—concurrently with the action, but you have no real understanding as to who and what you're dealing with—"
"Let's put the philosophy aside for a minute," Kulasawa cut in brusquely.
"Bottom line: you can tell them were to go and they take you there. Yes or no?"
Peter pursed his lips. "For the most part, yes."
He looked back at me. "You see now why we can't let even a hint of this get back to the rest of the Expansion. If they knew we could move their transports between the stars without the uncertainties an
d complications of the music technique, they would carry every one of us away into slavery."
Kulasawa snorted. "Give the melodramatics a rest, Your Highness. What you mean is that you've got a platinum opportunity here and you're just afraid to grab it."
"Believe whatever you wish," Peter said. "For you, perhaps, it would be an opportunity. For us, it would be slavery." "You really think they would just take you away like that?" Rhonda asked. "I can't believe our leaders would allow that."
"Of course they would," Peter said, gesturing toward Jimmy. "Just look at your own musicmaster. The musicmaster on the first transport to find us was a forty-six-year-old former professor of composition. How old is Mr. Chamala?"
"Nineteen," I said, looking at Jimmy. "He has the right kind of mind, and they hustled him straight through school."
"Did he have a choice?"
I grimaced. "As I understand it, there's a great deal of subtle pressure brought to bear on potential musicmasters."
"Do you think it would be any different with us?" Peter asked quietly.
"There's a virtual explosion in the volume of interstellar travel and colonization—just comparing the Sergei Rock's planetary charts with those of our earlier visitors makes that abundantly clear. If they knew we could feed that appetite, do you really think they would hesitate to press us into service?"
"And do you have any idea what prices you could command for such service?"
Kulasawa demanded. "That's what Smith's 'subtle pressure' mostly consists of: huge piles of neumarks. Play your cards right and your world could be one of the richest in the Expansion."
"And who would be left to live there?" Suzenne countered. "Children under five and elders over ninety? They'd take everyone else."
"Now you're being ridiculous," Kulasawa growled.
"I don't think so," Suzenne said. "But whether I am or not is irrelevant. The decision has been made, and we're not going to change it."
"Fine," Kulasawa said. "If you won't bring freedom to your people, Jimmy and I
