The Game Of Empire

by Poul Anderson

  He touched keys. "Microcopy everything."

  The machine had rearranged molecules by the millions and deposited three discus-shaped containers on the drop shelf before Targovi finished the rest of his job. Yet what he did went swiftly. He stripped the tunic from the Merseian, who now resisted him with mere weight, and slashed it in places until he could tie it together as a package. The weapons would go in, as well as the data slabs and—He set things out of the way while his knife made the next cuts, and afterward fetched a towel from the bathroom. It wouldn't do to have his bundle drip blood.

  Ready for travel, he opened the door a crack, peered, opened it wide, stepped through, closed it again. Quite possibly no one would be astir for another hour or two. Merseians tended to be early risers, but had no good reason to reset their circadian rhythms according to the short Daedalan period. In fact, they had good reason to refrain. The effort was lengthy and demanding; meanwhile they'd be at less than peak efficiency.

  It was likewise possible that, whenever the rest of his mission got up, the sentry would not be immediately due for relief, and no other occasion would arise for them to pass this door.

  Targovi couldn't count on any of that. Thus far his luck had been neither especially fair nor especially foul. Most of it he had made for himself. Had he come upon a different situation, he would have acted according to it as best he was able. Throughout, he had exploited surprise.

  How much longer could he continue to do so? Not very!

  He stole down corridor and hall. At the exit, he dropped to a belly-scraping all fours and crept, dragging his burden in his teeth. Up a tree—a flying leap to the outer wall and a bounce to the ground beyond—snake's way through brush till a dip of terrain concealed him—He rose and ran.

  Zacharians stared at the carnivore form that sped unhumanly fast down their streets, a bundle under an arm. With his spare hand, he waved at them. They had gotten used to seeing the poor itinerant huckster around, his hopes of business gone, aimlessly adrift. If today he bounded along, why, he must be stretching his legs. He looked cheerful enough.

  The sun-ring had contracted to a broad, incandescent arc in the east. The sky above was nearly white; a few clouds hung gilded. Westward the blue deepened. Dew sparkled on grass. Songbirds twittered. A red squirrel flamed along a bough. Here and there, savants passed from hall to ivy-covered hall. It would have been hard to imagine a scene more innocent.

  When Targovi let himself into the hospice, he missed the scent of Diana. He went to her room and peeked in. The bed stood unused. For a second he stood irresolute. Should he try to find her? The loss of time could prove fatal. On the other hand, a third member of his party might tip the scales, and the gods knew that most weight now lay in the wrong pan … And what of his sisterling herself? Ought he make her share his danger? Would she be safest staying behind? Maybe. The Zacharians might be satisfied with a straightforward interrogation and do her no harm. If she had been romping with the man Kukulkan, he should have the decency to use his influence on her behalf … But maybe the Zacharians would work ghastliness upon her, in fear or in spite. Maybe none of them felt in any way honor-bound to an outsider lover.

  Decision. Targovi couldn't hunt over Janua for her. But if she was where he thought was likely, it might not be too distant. He sought the infotrieve and keyed the area directory. Kukulkan's home address appeared on the screen. Houses lacked numbers, but streets" had names, and coordinates on a grid indicated each location. Acacia Lane—yes—Targovi's disconsolate wanderings while Axor conferred and Diana flirted had had the purpose of learning the geography. Acacia Lane was south of here, not really out of the way when you were trying to escape.

  He entered the Wodenite's room. Axor filled it, curled on a seat of mattresses. His breathing was like surf below the sea cliffs. Targovi slipped past the scaly body, bent over the muzzle, took hold of its nostrils. Those, he had discovered, were the most sensitive point, He tweaked them. Horny lids flipped back under craggy brow ridges. A row of teeth, ; meant for both ripping and crushing, gleamed into view. "Ochla, hoo-oo, ksyan ngunggung," rolled between them. "What's this, eh, what, what?"

  "Quick!" Targovi said. "Follow me. I've come on something unique. It won't last. You'll want to see it."

  "Really. I was awake late, reading."

  "Please. I beg you. You'll not regret it."

  "Ah, well, if you insist." Hoofs banged, the floor creaked, Axor's tail scraped a wall. He followed Targovi out and across the greensward. Such people as were in sight gave them looks but continued on their own paths. The xenosophonts were no longer a novelty.

  Where a pair of majestic trees shaded a bench, Targovi stopped. "This will be an unpleasant surprise," he warned. "Hold fast to your emotions. Reveal naught."

  "What?" The Wodenite blinked. "But you said—"

  "I lied. Here is the truth. Curl around. I want you to screen off what you're about to see."

  Squatting, Targovi pulled his bundle from under the bench where he had left it and undid its knots. Three data slabs, two firearms on non-Technic make, and something wrapped in a wet red towel appeared. He unfolded the cloth. Axor failed to suppress a geyserish gasp. Beneath his gaze lay the severed head of a Merseian.

  Chapter 20

  A few times in the past, Diana had felt she was being well and thoroughly kissed. Now she found her estimates had been off by an order of magnitude. Kukulkan's body pressed hard and supple. When she opened her eyes she saw his blurrily, but gold-brown, oblique, brilliant. The man-scent of him dizzied her. She felt his heartbeat against hers. She clung tight with her left arm and let her right fingers go ruffling through his hair.

  His hand slid from her hip, upward, inside her half-opened blouse. It went under her brassiere. Sweetness exploded.

  Wait! rang through. Dragoika's voice purred across the years: "Give yourself to the wind, but first be sure 'tis the wind of your wish." The loneliness of Maria Crowfeather—

  Diana pulled back. She must exert force. "Hold on," she said with an unsteady laugh. "I need to come up for air."

  "Oh, my beautiful!" His weight thrust her downward on the sofa where they sat.

  She resisted. A gentle judo break, decisive since unawaited, freed her. She sprang from him and stood breathing hard, flushed and atremble but back in charge of herself.

  "Easy, there," she said, smiling, because warmth still pulsed. She found occupation in pushing back her tousled locks. "Let's not get carried away."

  He rose, too, himself apparently unoffended, though ardency throbbed in his tone: "Why not? What harm? What except love and joy?"

  He refrained from advancing, so she stayed where she was, and wondered if she could really resist the handsomeness that confronted her. "Well, I—Oh, Kukulkan, it's been wonderful." And it had been, culminating in this night's flight above the Hellenes to a lake where they swam while the reflection of the sun-ring flashed everywhere around them, as if they swam in pure light; and ate pheasant and drank champagne ashore; and danced on a boat dock to music from the car's player, music and a dance she had never known before, a waltz by somebody named Strauss; and finally came back to his place, where one thing led to another. "I thank you, I do, I do. But soon I'll be gone."

  "No, you won't. I'll see to that. You'll stay as long as you want. And I'll take you all over this planet, and eventually beyond, to the stars."

  Did he mean it? Suppose he did!

  She had no intention of remaining a virgin for life, or until any particular age. Pride, if nothing else, forbade becoming somebody's plaything or, for that matter, making a toy of a man. But she liked Kukulkan Zachary—more than liked him—and she must be a little special to him, or why would he have squired her around as he did? What an ingrate she was, not to trust him.

  If only she'd had a reversible shot. She wanted neither a baby in the near future nor an abortion ever; but living hand-to-mouth on Imhotep, as often as not among the Tigeries, she just hadn't gotten around to the precaution. She though
t this week was safe for her—

  "I'd better go," she forced herself to say. "Let me think things over. Please don't rush me."

  "At least let me kiss you goodbye until later," he replied in that melodious voice of his. "A few hours later, no more, I beg you."

  She couldn't refuse him so small a favor, could she, in common courtesy?

  He gathered her in. She responded. Resolution wobbled.

  Whether or not it would have stood fast, she never knew. The front door, unlocked on the crimeless island, opened. Targovi came in. Behind him reared the dragon head of Axor.

  Diana and Kukulkan recoiled apart. "What the flickerin' hell!" ripped from her. He snarled and tensed.

  Targovi leveled the blaster he carried. "Don't," he said.

  "Have you two jumped your orbits?" Diana yelled, and knew freezingly that they had not.

  Kukulkan straightened. His features stiffened. "Drop that thing," he said as if giving a routine order to a servant. "Do you want the girl killed in a firefight?"

  "Who is to start one?" Targovi retorted. He gestured at a window. Leafage turned young daylight to gold-spattered green. Like most local homes, this was tucked into its garden, well back from the street, screened by trees and hedges. It was obvious that the intruders had entered unseen.

  Axor crowded in. He went to Diana, laid his enormous arms about her, drew her to his plated breast, as tenderly as her mother. "My dear, my dear, I am sorry," he boomed low. "Horror is upon us. Would that you could be spared."

  For a minute she clung tight. It was as though strength and calm flowed out of him, into her. She stepped back. Her gaze winged around the scene and came to rest on Targovi. "Explain," she said.

  His scarlet eyes smoldered back at her. "The spoor I followed proved true," he answered. "I followed it into the lair of the beast. Axor, show her what I brought back."

  The Wodenite visibly shuddered. "Must I?"

  "Yes. Didn't diddle about. Every tailshake we wait, the odds mount against us."

  While Axor took a package from a carrier bag and untied it, Targovi's words trotted remorseless: "The Zacharians are in collusion with the Merseians. This means they must be with Magnusson. The Merseians must be! You understand what this betokens."

  "No," she protested, "please, no. Impossible. How could they keep the secret? Why would they do such a thing?"

  Axor completed his task, and It stared sightlessly up at her.

  "They are not like your folk," Targovi reminded.

  Struggling out of shock, she heard him dimly. "We must bring this evidence back."

  "How?" challenged Kukulkan. Diana regarded him, which hurt like vitriol to do. He stood shaken but undaunted. "Would you steal a car and fly off? You might succeed in that, even committing another murder or two in the process. But missiles will come after you, rays, warcraft if necessary, to shoot you down. Meanwhile, whatever transmissions you attempt will be jammed—not that they'd be believed. A waterboat is merely ludicrous. Surrender, and I'll suggest clemency."

  "You'll not be here." Targovi aimed the blaster. He had set it to narrow beam. Kukulkan never flinched.

  "No!" shouted Diana and bellowed Axor together. She pursued with a spate of words: "D'you mean to silence him? What for? The alarm'll go out anyhow, when they find that poor headless body. Tie him up instead."

  "You do it, then," the Tigery growled. "Be quick, but be thorough. Meanwhile, think whether you want to join us. Axor, stow the goods again."

  "Into the bedroom," Diana directed. The irony smote her. "Oh, Kukulkan, this is awful! You didn't know anything about it, did you?"

  Under the threat of Targovi's gun, he preceded her, turned, and said in steeliness: "I did. It would be idiotic of me to deny that. But I intended you no harm, lovely lass. On the contrary. You could have become a mother of kings."

  She wiped away tears, drew her knife, slashed a sheet into bonds. "What do you want, you people? Why've you turned traitor?"

  "We owe the Terran Empire nothing. It dragooned our forebears into itself. It has spurned our leadership, the vision that animated the Founders. It will only allow us to remain ourselves on this single patch of land, afar in its marches. Here we dwell like Plato's man in chains, seeing only shadows on the wall of our cave, shadows cast by the living universe. The Merseians have no cause to fear or shun us. Rather, they will welcome us as their intermediaries with the human commonality. They will grant us the same boundless freedom they desire for themselves."

  "Are you s-s-certain about that? Lie down on the b-b-bed, on your stomach."

  He obeyed. She began fastening his hands behind his back. Would he twist about, try to seize her for shield or hostage? She'd hate slashing him; but she stayed prepared. He lay passive, apart from speech: "What do you owe the Empire, Diana, this shellful of rotting flesh? Why should you die for it? You will, if you persist. You have nowhere to flee."

  Instantly, almost involuntarily, she defied him. "We've got a whole big island where we can live off the farms and wildlife, plenty of hills and woods for cover. We'll survive."

  "For hours; days, at most. In fear and wretchedness. Think. I offer you protection, amnesty. My kin will not be vindictive. They are above that. I offer you glory."

  "He may intend it, or he may just want the use of you," Targovi said from the doorway. "In either case, sisterling, belike it's your safest trail. If we bind you, too, somebody will come erelong to see what's happened, and none should blame you."

  "Naw." Diana secured Kukulkan's ankles. "I stay by my friends."

  "A forlorn hope, we."

  She hitched the strips to the bedframe, lest the prisoner roll himself off and out into the street. Straightening, she happened to spy and open closet. Hanging there were clothes for both man and woman.

  Well, sure, she thought, Zacharians didn't marry. No point in it, for them. He had admitted as much, and mentioned children raised in interchangeable households, and she had wondered how lonesome he was in his heart and whether that was what drew him to her, and then they had gone on with their excursion. But, sure, Zacharians would have sex for other reasons than procreation. Interchangeable people? The idea was like a winter wind.

  She stooped above the bonny face. He gave her a crooked smile. "Goodbye," she said to the alien.

  Seeking Targovi: "All right, let's scramble out o' here."

  "—state secrets. Almost as dangerous are their persons, for they are armed and desperate. While capture alive is desirable for purposes of interrogation, killing them on sight is preferable to any risk of allowing them to continue their rampage—"

  Targovi heard the announcement out before he switched off the audio transceiver he had brought from the hospice. It was a natural thing to put in Axor's carrier, along with food, after they had voiced their decision to go on a long tramp through the hills, for the benefit of any electronic eavesdroppers. While the Wodenite recorded a message apologizing for thus cancelling his next appointment with Isis, explaining that he wished to savor the landscape and this was his last chance, his comrade had surreptitiously added a hiking outfit for Diana to the baggage.

  Being a Tigery, Targovi skipped banalities like, "Well, now they know." He did murmur, "Interesting is how they phrase it, the scat about 'state secrets'. I should think most Zacharians will realize at once what this means. The rest should cooperate without questions."

  "I s'pose the words're for the benefit of whatever outsiders may catch the broadcast," said Diana around a mouthful of sandwich. "F'r instance, on watercraft passin' within range. Not that they'd investigate for themselves."

  The three rested in a hollow in the heights above Janua, well away from settlement. Its peacefulness was an ache in them. Birch stood around, leaves dancing to a breeze in the radiance of westbound Patricius. Prostrate juniper grew among the white trunks, itself dark blue-green and fragrant. A spring bubbled from a mossy bank. Somewhere a mockingbird trilled.

  "The Zacharians will be out like a swarm of khrukai—sword
wings," Targovi said. "They'll use aircraft and high-gain sensors. We'll need all the woodcraft that is ours. And … we are not used to forest such as this."

  Diana smote fist on ground. "Be damned if we'll die for naught, or skulk around useless till Magnusson's slaughtered his way to the throne!" Her head and voice drooped. "Only what can we do?"

  Axor cleared his throat. "I can do this much, beloved ones," he said, almost matter-of-factly. "My size and lack of skill at concealment will betray us even before my bodily need has exhausted the rations. Let me angle off and divert pursuit while you two seek the mountains." He lifted a hand against Diana's anguished cry. "No, no, it is the sole sensible plan. I came along because, much though I abhor violence, as a Christian should, yet there seemed to be a chance to end the war before it devours lives by the millions. Also, while I cannot believe the Merseians are creatures of Satan, they would deprive many billions of whatever self-determination is left. It is a worthy cause. Afterward, if you live, pray that we be forgiven for the harm we have done our opponents, and for the repose of their souls, as I will pray." His neck swayed upward from where he lay till light caught the crest of his head and made a crown of it. "Let me serve in the single way I am able. Lord, watch over my spirit, and the spirits of these my friends."

  This time the girl could not stem tears. "Oh, Axor—!"

  "Quiet, you two blitherers," Targovi grated. "What we want is less nobility and more thinking."

  He jumped and paced, not man-style but as a Tigery does, weaving in and out among the trees and around the bushes. His right hand stroked the blade of his great knife over the palm of the left, again and again. Teeth gleamed when he muttered on the track of his thought.

  "I led us hither because I dared not suppose my deed at the command post would go undetected enough longer for us to rustle transportation and reach the mainland. In that I was right. My hope was that the Zacharians would show such confusion at the news, being inexperienced in affairs like this, that we could double back and find means of escape—mayhap forcing the owner of a vehicle to cover for us. After all, they had not been well organized at the post. The hope was thin just the same, and now is not a wisp. I think their … oneness … makes them able to react to the unforeseen as coolly as an individual, not with the babble and cross purposes of an ordinary human herd taken by surprise. You heard the broadcast. Every car and boat will stay in a group of three or more, under guard. Every movement from the island will be stopped for inspection. This will prevail until we are captured or slain.