Liaden Universe Constellation Volume 3

by Sharon Lee

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Code of Honor

  Guaranteed Delivery

  Intelligent Design

  Out of True

  Roving Gambler

  King of the Cats

  Kin Ties

  Eleutherios

  The Rifle’s First Wife

  The Space at Tinsori Light

  Landed Alien

  Moon’s Honor

  Quick Working Glossary

  BOOK 3 in the multivolume Liaden Universe® short fiction collection. Tales of the Liaden Universe® brought together for the first time. Space opera and romance on a grand scale in a galaxy full of interstellar trading clans. The nationally best-selling Liaden Universe® novels are treasured by space opera aficionados for their wit, world-building, strong characterizations, tender romance, and edge-of-the-chair action. Since 1995, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller also created shorter tales, illuminating additional facets of the Liaden experience. Here is a vast tapestry of tales of the scouts, artists, traders, priestesses, sleight of hand magicians, and pilots who fill the Liaden Universe® with the excitement, action, and romance that readers of the hit series have come to adore. Contains all new entries published after 2011.

  BAEN BOOKS

  by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller

  The Liaden Universe®

  Fledgling

  Saltation

  Mouse & Dragon

  Ghost Ship

  Dragon Ship

  Necessity’s Child

  Trade Secret

  Dragon in Exile

  Alliance of Equals (forthcoming)

  The Dragon Variation (omnibus)

  The Agent Gambit (omnibus)

  Korval’s Game (omnibus)

  The Crystal Variation (omnibus)

  A Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume1

  A Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume 2

  A Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume 3

  The Fey Duology

  Duainfey

  Longeye

  by Sharon Lee

  Carousel Tides

  Carousel Sun

  Carousel Seas

  A LIADEN UNIVERSE ® CONSTELLATION: VOLUME 3

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  “Code of Honor” was first published on Spinter Universe, May 2014. “Eleutherious” was first published on www.Baen.com, January 2013. “Guaranteed Delivery” was first published on Splinter Universe, September 2011. “Intelligent Design” was first published on www.Baen.com, July 2011. “Kin Ties” was first published on Splinter Universe, July 2011. “King of the Cats” was first published in The Cat’s Job, SRM Publisher, Ltd., 2002. “Landed Alien” was first published on www.Baen.com, October 2012. “Moon’s Honor” was first published on Splinter Universe, February 2013. “Out of True” was first published on www.Baen.com, October 2013. “Roving Gambler” was first published on Splinter Universe, April 2014. “The Rifle’s First Wife” was first published on Splinter Universe, January 2014. “The Space at Tinsori Light” was first published on Splinter Universe, November 2011.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. Liaden Universe® is a registered trademark.

  A Baen Books Original

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4767-8068-9

  Cover art by Stephen Hickman

  First Baen printing, August 2015

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  2013011058

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Foreword

  Welcome to Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume 3!

  We’d like to talk a little about how we got to this book, the book you have in your hands right now, and about grand plans.

  When we started writing in the Liaden Universe® thirty years ago we had a plan. It was a plan for seven novels, to be written in a large and fast-paced space opera universe full of action, adventure, romance and fun, with several groups of people as the focus. Even as we started we knew that there were some complex stories to tell in this universe, because universes, families, and clans have history, and history is full of secrets, mistakes, alliances, plans, and necessity.

  As we’ve described elsewhere, our original grand plan was sketched out over a single night, and when we were done, we knew many of the high points of the story, and quite a few of the central characters. The first few Liaden books attracted an avid readership—and over time portions of that readership coalesced into a community with outposts in the physical world of SF clubs and conventions clubs while an overlapping electronic community formed as the modem-based BBS society gave way to the internet. With so much support we—that is Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, the authors of the Liaden Universe®—were, eventually, able to continue with our grand plan, and in fact we were encouraged to go beyond it, and write not seven novels, but, well, more than seven.

  But wait! You may have noticed that the book you’re reading right now is—not a novel. In fact, it is so much not a novel that it labels itself the third Liaden Universe® Constellation, the third collection of short stories, novellas, and novelettes set within the universe.

  Truth told, when we started with our grand plan we hadn’t thought about all the ramifications attending our style of world-building and character development. Since we’re working with an expanding universe, and not a linear series, that means the novels were not necessarily written in order, which means that the characters were also not written precisely in order. It also means that the characters often go where we don’t expect them to go; and that their pasts and futures are not clean slates, but experiences that make them who they are.

  The result of grand plans, and novel-packaging, and characters going off on their own is that we found—and we still constantly find—that we have ideas, incidents, and events that don’t fit easily into the flow of a novel or a novel-arc. On top of that, we discovered as we talked with readers and fans that some characters fascinated folks more than others—and some fascinated us more than others. The Liaden Universe® had become not only our place, but an interactive place, with highly interested observers.

  But see, we never planned for short stories, in our original grand plan.

  “Whatever happened to the taxi-driver?” was a question that haunted us across several years and indeed, into a second story arc. When we answered it, it helped develop a novel in a different arc, and created another story as well. Young Jethri, given a short story, grew into a novel, and then another, with more short-pieces flowing off of his story line and necessities.

  Grand plans change.

  The stories you’ll read here are all set in the Liaden Universe®. They occur unserially—in different times, in different story arcs, to characters in the main line of the novels, and not. All of these stories take place inside the Liaden Universe®, and all illuminate some aspect of it that we needed to explore or an aspect that readers asked about and which was simultaneously attractive to us.

  Despite the fact that we’ve far surpassed those original planned-for seven novels, the Liaden grand plan continues. We’re currently under contract with Baen to write six more novels in the Liaden Universe® . . . and, as time permits, or the fascination str
ikes, we’ll write more short stories.

  We guess this means that someday, there will be a Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume 4!

  Thanks for reading, enjoying, and sharing!

  Sharon Lee and Steve Miller

  Waterville, Maine

  June 2014

  Code of Honor

  This story exists because we were plotting a completely different story, and needed a character to . . . do something . . . for the main character. That secondary character came with an utterly fascinating back-story. So fascinating, in fact, that he got his own story, set in the aftermath of I Dare. And yes, we are still planning to write the story that spawned this one, so . . . watch the skies!

  “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

  Tech Sergeant Tommy Lee saluted, and waited for the captain to acknowledge him.

  She looked up from her screen, eyes shadowed, and Tommy felt a pang. Cardimin had been hard on her; had been hard on all of them. He’d gotten a scratch out of it; Captain Blake had gotten . . . more than a scratch. She ought not even be out of sick bay—that was Tommy’s opinion, and let the record show that he was not a medic.

  “Sergeant.” She nodded in return to his salute, and used her chin to point at the chair by her desk. “Sit down, please.”

  “Ma’am.”

  He sat, frowning up at her face. Drawn and looking older than she was. Dammit, she ought to be resting!

  “Correspondence just come in regarding you,” she said, looking down at her screen. “You know a Jow Lit pen’Chapen?”

  For a moment, he thought to deny it; after all, who could say they knew the Delm of Clan Severt? Certainly not the least-valued of his grandchildren. But, no; it wouldn’t do. She would have his record on her screen. Fifteen Standards he had served in her command, and Tommy Lee before he’d risen from the signing table; she’d need a reminder of his birth name.

  So.

  “Jow Lit pen’Chapen is Delm Severt,” he said calmly. “My grandfather.”

  Captain Blake nodded.

  “He sent a pinbeam to Commander Wyatt, stating that you’re needed by your clan.”

  Ice ran his veins. The words hadn’t quite made . . .

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She looked up then; looked right at him, and smiled, tiredly.

  “Your grandda invoked the escape clause, Tommy. You’re free to go home. Wyatt’s already signed off on it.”

  But I don’t want to go home! he thought, which might have been undutiful, had things been otherwise, between him and his clan. He did not say this to Susan Blake; it would do nothing but distress her.

  She shifted, slightly, fretfully, behind her desk.

  “Says here there’s a transport voucher in your mailbox. You’re to leave immediately, and travel with all haste. Apparently, there’s specific instructions in your box along with that voucher.” She sighed, and shook her head at the screen.

  “Couple administrative things . . .” she murmured. “First is, you wanna close your account in the Merc Bank?”

  Close his account? And what? Carry his entire savings in his pockets?

  He shook his head.

  “If it’s possible to leave the account as it is, I would prefer to do that,” he said. She nodded and touched a key.

  “OK. What do you want us to do about mail? You can keep your box open. Be a fee—four-bit per Standard.”

  Hardly a fee at all, and certainly cheaper than renting a civilian box and paying for transfers and forwarding.

  “I’ll leave it open for now; the fee’s acceptable. When I know what . . . my clan . . . requires of me, I’ll be able to make a decision . . .”

  Gods, it had been half a lifetime since he had thought like this . . . what my clan requires of me? He was accustomed to command; the merc culture suited him well. But merc culture—merc discipline—was a shallow and meaningless thing when measured against the absolute power that a delm held over the members of his clan. A delm could order a kinsman shot for no reason other than he had been found an irritant. No one would remonstrate with him, or demand that he explain himself, or call him to stand trial for violations against the reg book . . .

  “Tommy? You OK?”

  He took a deep breath and looked up to meet her eyes.

  “Truthfully, I’m . . . shaken. Does he—Delm Severt— say what the clan requires of me?”

  Even as he asked, a new fear iced his heart.

  His mother.

  Had his mother died? But surely he would not be called home merely to mourn her. A leave of absence, perhaps, but this . . .

  “He’s a man of few words, your grandda. Just the bare phrase, to do the necessary.”

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t accept his invocation of the Liaden Personnel Release Clause,” he said, dragging the proper name of the provision from gods knew what pocket in his well-pocketed memory. “I’ll make inquiries. If necessary, I’ll arrange for a leave of absence. This is . . .”

  The captain was shaking her head, and she was frowning the particularly fierce frown that meant she was unhappy, not angry.

  “You don’t get a say,” she said. “Tommy, I checked. You bet I checked! Some old guy sitting on Liad’s gonna take away the best palaver and protocol sarge this unit’s ever had?” Another headshake. “It’s got a whole chapter to itself in the regs: Liadens belong to their clan; if-and-when their clan says, come home, the Merc’s gotta cut ’em loose. No delay. No return.”

  No return.

  He was speechless.

  There was a small pause before Captain Blake sighed, and spoke again, her voice sounding infinitely weary.

  “So, there’s some things for you to sign here, Tommy . . .”

  He arrived at Chonselta Port in the early hours of the morning, which suited him, and his plans. He found a tea shop and ordered breakfast, talking with the bored clerk while he ate. He’d taken the precaution of brushing up on modes and forms during the long days of travel, which was prudent, but left his ears tuned to the Solcintran accent. The Chonselta burr was at first disconcerting, then oddly comforting. He’d spent the last half of his life so far getting around in the various dialects of Terran and in Merc pidgen, with sometimes intense forays into other languages, as required by his duties. Of course, he’d spoken Liaden occasionally during the past fifteen Standards, but he had by no means spoken it every day. Doubtless, his grandfather would find him inexcusably rough, but that would be no new thing, and he was no longer an unskilled and despised halfling, but a man grown and secure in his accomplishments.

  He reached for his tea cup; paused to look at the ring on the smallest finger of his right hand. It was a utilitarian thing, as ornaments went, the stone set flush to the band so as not to foul in wires, or catch on combat gloves. A Liaden would scarcely call it a ring at all, but for the honor it denoted; and perhaps not even then. He had another ring in his kit—a broad-banded, heavily gemmed affair that he wore when attending official parties and meetings with planetary officials, and others who were impressed by such things. Perhaps he should have it on, when he presented himself at the house.

  That reminded him of his agenda, and he put the question to the clerk, who smiled and nodded significantly toward the left wall of the shop.

  “Faces Spa will put you in the current style,” she said. “Just three shops up, at the corner.”

  “Will they be open, so early?”

  “Be shifting over to the day crew right about now,” she answered, so he finished his tea, paid his tab, and walked up the street to have himself put into the current style.

  After the spa, his braid shorn and the remainder of his pale hair arranged in soft curls over his ears, it was the tailor, who was pleased to serve Tom Lei pen’Chapen Clan Severt, and in very quick order produced a jacket, shirt, and trousers befitting the returning son of a mid-level House known to have ambitious tendencies. His good duty boots were changed out for a thinner, shinier pair, with a heel that would make m
arching painful. The tailor also produced evening clothes—“In the event that the House dresses for Prime”—and a second set of day clothes. In addition, he quick-cleaned Mr. pen’Chapen’s travel leathers, sweater, and boots while the gentleman was in the dressing room, and had them waiting neatly on the counter when he emerged.

  “I thank you,” Tom Lei said, remembering to incline slightly from the waist—not quite a bow, but a modest genuflection to one who has performed an unexpected small service. He produced his purse, meaning to settle his account immediately, and was stopped by the tailor himself.

  “By no means, sir! Clan Severt of course keeps an account here, and settles very promptly at the end of every relumma! I have no hesitation in appending today’s modest purchases to this relumma’s accountings.”

  “I thank you,” Tom Lei said again, while, mentally, he sighed. Of course, Severt kept accounts with the local tailors. It was how things were done, on Liad. He, long-accustomed to drawing his uniforms from stores, and purchasing joy-clothes and civvies from his own funds, had simply assumed—but there! This was his uniform, now.

  “I am happy to serve,” the tailor was assuring him. “If you should need to expand your wardrobe—reception wear, or intimate items—please do not hesitate to call upon me.”

  “I will remember,” he promised, and reached for his kit, to stow cleaned leathers and boots.

  “May I call a cab for you, sir?” the tailor asked.

  He had intended to walk from the tailor to Severt’s Clanhouse, a matter of some several dozen blocks. Walking would have served two purposes: it would have consumed time, should that have been necessary, until an hour when the House could be expected to be awake; and it would have given him one last opportunity to prepare himself for the upcoming meeting with his grandfather.