by David Drake
Adele stepped briskly up the staircase. She didn't look around, but it wasn't until she'd banged the hatch closed behind her that she let out the breath she'd been holding.
* * *
"I suppose you're used to this sort of thing," Luff said bitterly as he started around the Council Hall with Daniel, toward the enclosed parking lot in back. There were clots of spectators at the rear of the plaza, watching but unwilling to be said to have joined the mob. Corius' voice through the PA system was audible though individual words weren't always clear. "Because your father's Speaker Leary, I mean."
I wonder who told him that? thought Daniel. He was pretty sure Luff hadn't known that Daniel was anything more than a young middle-ranking officer when the Princess Cecile landed on Bennaria.
"I've seen other mass gatherings, yes," Daniel said carefully. He had no reason to be abrupt with the question, but neither did he want to get in a discussion about Corder Leary. "This is quite a polite one, it seems to me. But that has nothing to do with who my father is. I grew up on our country estate, Bantry, not in Xenos. I saw bird migrations and file-fish runs, but not political demonstrations."
There'd been political meetings, though. Not this sort of thing, but the discussions which the public never learned about. One man, or three, or on a single occasion twelve, arrived at Bantry separately and separately slipped away again. On the night of the largest meeting began the Proscriptions that crushed the Three Circles Conspiracy.
They'd reached the steel-scrollwork gates of the parking compound. Luff's driver was inside talking with three attendants. Daniel pulled at the leaves, but they were locked.
Hogg'd been walking behind Daniel and Luff as they moved away from the crowd. He glanced back once more, then stepped to the gate and rattled it in irritation. "Hey!" he called. "You there! Look alive!"
The four men muttered uncertainly for a moment. Finally an attendant walked toward them while Luff's driver got into the black landau. It was the only vehicle still in the lot.
"They'd better get a move on," Hogg muttered, resuming his watch on the plaza. In a different voice he went on, "There were people waiting down some of the streets leading to the square, you know, master. They don't wear their colors, but they're somebody's bullies for sure."
"Master Luff?" Daniel said. "Do you think the other Councilors will attack Corius today?"
He wasn't sure how the Manco agent would respond. He'd remained in sullen silence while the three of them pushed back through the crowd, and the comment about Speaker Leary hadn't been made in a friendly tone.
Instead of growling some angry variant on, "How would I know?" though, Luff said, "No, no, they won't do that. The whole city would be burned down if they did that. Waddell may have observers, but attack? No."
He looked over his shoulder at the plaza. "The Councilors've all gone to their estates, I'm sure of that. Those who think they have enough retainers may leave a guard on their townhouses, but some won't even do that."
Luff shivered. "What if the city burns anyway?" he asked plaintively. "What will I do? This is a terrible thing, terrible."
The driver had turned the car and was moving toward them. The attendant unlocked the gate's crossbar and slid it sideways. Hogg shoved the leaves fiercely, deliberately making the attendant jump back. The fellow'd delayed them, but Hogg was capable of taking his anger out on anybody who happened to be close.
Any wog, that is; Daniel didn't catch his servant's anger unless he personally was the cause of it. Which was often enough, in all truth.
"Sir?" said the attendant unexpectedly as he pulled one leaf fully open; Hogg was pushing the other back. "I—"
The fellow looked back at his fellows, standing against the wall. Each had his hands locked together to keep them from twitching. "I mean we, we were wondering if, you know, we should leave the Council Hall?"
"Ah," said Daniel, the syllable replacing, "Why in the world are you asking me?" because as soon as he framed that question mentally, he knew the answer: the attendants were terrified. They feared not only what the mob might do but also equally irrational violence by the Councilors who were their masters.
"I think you should go home, now," Daniel said quietly. He was the closest thing to authority the poor fellow had; it was simple human kindness to give him the answer that might save his life. "You want to be with your families in case things get, well, confused later."
Luff had gotten into the car. "Come along, for God's sake," he said. "We can't be sure the streets are safe even now!"
Hogg moved deliberately to put his shapeless bulk between Daniel and the Manco agent. He was looking back at the crowd, whistling Waiting to Grow between his teeth. That'd been Elemere's signature tune. . . .
"Even though Councilor Waddell told us to lock the doors and watch the place tonight?" the attendant said. He sounded as desperate as a mother asking a doctor about her child.
"If the building's still here in the morning," Daniel said, "you can come back before Councilor Waddell's likely to. If it's not, well, you're still better off, right?"
He smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder. Hogg climbed into the open cab with the driver, and Daniel slid into the passenger compartment with Luff. The car was accelerating out of the lot before he got the door fully closed.
Daniel glanced through the opera window in the back panel. The attendant he'd spoken to was waving to his fellows to join him. Even before they did he'd trotted out into the street, leaving the gates open behind him.
"Well, you're off the hook now, at least," Luff said. He was tight-faced and glared straight ahead, though Daniel doubted that he was looking at anything beyond the sheet of one-way glass between them and the cab. "Are you going to go straight back to Cinnabar?"
Daniel pursed his lips, wondering how to respond. Before he decided, Luff added, "I wish I could go back with you. I wish I'd never taken this bloody job, but I had no choice!"
A gang of children, the oldest of them no more than twelve, stood in a side street. They shouted something unintelligible when they saw the car and several threw stones; the driver accelerated. Hogg rose to his feet so that he could shoot over the driver's head if he had to, but in the event he kept the squat pistol down by his side.
"I'm not sure what you mean by me being off the hook, Luff," Daniel said quietly. "My assignment is to help oust the invaders from Dunbar's World. It would've been simpler to do that if the Bennarian government were more forthcoming, but that wasn't part of the orders I was given at Navy House."
Luff stared at him in a mixture of anger and resentment. "Look," the agent said, "your orders have changed. You're here to help Bennaria, and the best thing that could happen to Bennaria now would be for Yuli Corius to be killed on Dunbar's World. If you don't believe me, just ask any of the Councilors."
"With all due respect, Master Luff. . .," Daniel said, giving the adjective a slight emphasis to make the insult unmistakable. "I cannot imagine circumstances in which an RCN officer would ask tin-pot foreign politicians to interpret orders given him by his superiors."
"You know what I mean!" Luff said angrily. His clenched fists quivered on his knees in an access of frustration. "You're not here because of the Cinnabar navy or the Cinnabar Senate or the Cinnabar bloody anything! You're here because the Mancos had you sent here to make their trading partners on Bennaria happy. That's the Councilors, and I'm telling you—the Councilors don't want Corius to succeed!"
Daniel looked out the front window as he considered what Luff had said. They were nearing the harbor; the only people he saw out were those nailing sheets of plywood or structural plastic over the windows of the larger houses of entertainment.
"Well, Luff. . .," he said, keeping his eyes on the buildings rather than facing the man with him. He and Hogg'd come from the Princess Cecile in an ordinary water taxi, but those might no longer be running. Of course the crewmen of the Manco barge were locals also, as apt to be part of Corius' assembly as the independent watermen w
ere.
Daniel'd let his voice trail off. He grimaced and said, "Sorry. Yes, you may well be right about the motivation behind my orders, but—"
He turned and smiled directly at the Manco agent.
"—you see, the orders themselves don't say that."
The car slowed and turned left down Harbor Street. Hogg stood again, this time to see past the embankment to where boats might be riding on the ebb tide. The Princess Cecile was a low shape among the bulkier freighters in the mist across the strait.
"You don't have to be that literal!" Luff said. "You've got leeway, I know that. I've seen your record, Leary, so don't pretend you're some kind of by-the-book robot."
"No, I'm not," Daniel said. "I've used my judgment to interpret orders in the past, and I'm doing the same now."
He paused, considering how much more he really ought to say. Nothing more was probably the right answer, but he was Daniel Leary.
"You're wondering if this is happening because I dislike Councilor Waddell," Daniel said. "Again, no. I wouldn't compromise my duty, let alone risk the lives of the crewmen for whom I'm responsible, simply because I feel Councilor Waddell's best use would be as fish bait."
As he spoke, he thought of Waddell bouncing along on a cable behind the Bantry Belle, with Hogg at the controls and himself manning the harpoon gun. The trench eels off the east coast grew to over a hundred feet long.
The image made him grin broadly; Luff started back.
"As I say, my personal feelings don't matter here," Daniel continued, a lie but a small one. "The Pellegrinians have been developing increasingly close ties with the Alliance, however. I don't see any benefit to the Republic in letting an Alliance supporter expand its power into Ganpat's Reach, and I'm confident that my superiors will feel the same way."
The car stopped abruptly. Daniel leaned back, compensating with a spacer's reflex, but Luff rocked forward hard enough to thump the divider with his shoulder. Hogg jumped out and called to someone unseen beyond the seawall.
"They'll blame me, you know," Luff muttered, again to his clenched hands. "Not that you care."
"He'll take us, young master!" Hogg said, gesturing toward the presumed boat and boatman. The closed compartment muffled his voice. "And I won't mind having the Sissies and a couple plasma cannon around me, I'll tell you now."
Daniel got out of the car. Before he closed the door, though, he leaned back and said, "Master Luff? I've told you what I intend to do as an RCN officer, but I should add that if I were a civilian I'd do the same. I prefer to think that any Cinnabar gentleman would put his heritage ahead of the wishes of unpleasant foreigners."
As he swung the door to, he added, "It's something you might keep in mind yourself."
CHAPTER 12: Bennaria
The spacer from the Armed Squadron unlocked the riverside wicket in the fence surrounding the Pool; he gave it a tentative push. The vines growing through the wire meshes held it closed. "It's stuck," he said to Daniel in apparent surprise.
Woetjans stepped past Daniel and gripped the frame with both hands. Planting her left boot on the gatepost, she pulled hard. The gate opened; the thicker woody stems popped like burning brushwood.
"Bloody hell," the Bennarian said when he got a good look at the bosun. Unlike the Sissies he didn't have light-enhancing goggles and Bennaria's moon, though full, was too small to be more than a gleam in the haze. "You're a big one, ain't you!"
"Yes, she is," said Daniel. "Now—seeing how short we are on time, let's get to the missile warehouse at once, shall we?"
"You're not the only one on duty tonight, are you?" Woetjans said harshly. "Where's the rest of you?
The bosun had spent much of her working life on the hull of starships in the Matrix, an environment utterly hostile to any kind of life. Clearly she wasn't a coward, but she didn't like darkness. Daniel knew the long ride upriver in the water taxi must've been slow torture for her.
Hogg was a skilled boatman, but the river wasn't marked; they'd twice run onto mudflats that were indistinguishable from rafts of floating weed. Besides, the taxi was overloaded with five. Daniel'd brought two Power Room techs, Kaltenbrenner and Morgan, for their expertise in handling missiles. Woetjans was in a bad mood.
"Look, they're in the admin building," the Bennarian said. "We cut cards and I lost, so I'm the one letting you in. I'll show you the missiles and the lighter, then I leave too. What you do then's your business. We don't know a thing!"
"Let's go," Daniel said quietly. He'd made the deal with Commandant Brast over a channel that Adele swore couldn't be tapped by anybody on the planet except herself. The missiles were costing a fortune because every member of the detachment on duty at the Pool had to be paid off; but Daniel had money, now, and he couldn't think of a better use for it than to arm the Princess Cecile before she lifted tomorrow for Dunbar's World.
If it worked, of course. The trip upriver had already taken two hours longer than planned, and Daniel didn't kid himself that returning to the harbor in a heavily-laden barge was going to be any easier. They'd still be transferring the missiles to the Sissie when dawn broke.
Well, one problem at a time. If Daniel had to use his cannon to keep the Bennarian authorities away while he finished loading the missiles, that's what he'd do.
Their guide didn't have a vehicle. The path from the gate was covered with pierced steel planking, slick and likely to trip the unwary where the sections fitted together.
The local man had more trouble with the surface than Daniel and his crewmen did, only in part because they had night vision goggles. They also had much more experience moving in difficult conditions. As rarely as any Bennarian warship lifted, the Squadron's spacers must spend most of their time playing cards in the administration building.
Hogg didn't wear goggles: he'd been a poacher too long to allow machines to come between his senses and the night around him. He walked beside the track in soft, shapeless boots that wouldn't leave identifiable tracks. In his arms was cradled a stocked impeller. Just in case, he'd said, and Daniel hadn't been disposed to argue the point.
The Bennarian skidded; he'd have fallen over backwards if Daniel hadn't caught him by the shoulder and held him upright. He fumbled a light out of his belt pouch, muttering, "I never have no luck!" he muttered angrily. "Bloody never!"
He switched on a small light, but its razor-thin beam did more to conceal than illuminate the path. He resumed slipping and sloshing toward the row of barrel-vaulted warehouses backed against the Pool itself. Kaltenbrenner said something to Morgan; both men chuckled.
There were five warehouses, though Daniel wouldn't have been able to tell that in the darkness. The front lights of the U-shaped Administration Building were on, throwing a faint glow skyward, but the floods on the sides and rear had been switched off.
The warehouse aprons were concrete, a pleasant change after the PSP. The path to the water was for maintaining the downstream locks, but it must not get much use. Well, no part of the Armed Squadron seemed to get much use under the present Council.
The guide took them around to the back where loading docks jutted into the water. He stopped at the second warehouse and fumbled with a switch. The full-width door began to rumble upward; it didn't appear to have been locked.
"There!" the Bennarian said. "The missiles're against the north wall and the boat's tied to the dock. Now you're on your own, all right?"
He started off in the direction of the Admin Building. Daniel caught his arm again. "Where are the lights, please?" he said.
"Look, they'll show up for miles with the door open," the Bennarian said peevishly. "Can't you use your handlights, all right?"
"I'm afraid we can't, no," Daniel said. "The sooner we finish this job, the sooner—"
As he spoke, a red bead appeared in the field of his night vision goggles and pulsed to the right. Adele was obviously listening to what was going on and—as now—always offered help when she thought it was useful.
Daniel turned
to center the bead, then put out his hand to a switchbox with a row of toggles. He threw them in pairs; fluorescent lights with a distinctly greenish cast flickered on in the ceiling.
"Do as you please, then," the spacer muttered. "Since you're going to anyway."
Woetjans and the two technicians strode into the warehouse and stopped. The bosun muttered, "Well, what'd I bloody expect?"
"There's an overhead crane," said Morgan. He started for the back, where a ladder led to the tracked crane above. "I'll get it going. If it will go, I mean."
The southern half of the building had racks, but crates and a jumble of loose gear were piled in the aisles. Daniel saw the noses of several missiles facing out from the other half of the building, but there were boxes in front of them and more on top. From what he could tell at a quick glance, much of what was stored here was junk.
