"Medina Traders and certain allied families. My sister Eudoxus returned to the Mote with your ships."
Glenda Ruth grinned. "Eudoxus. Medina Traders. For Mr. Bury's benefit, of course."
"Of course. The terms would be familiar to him."
"But that name would imply that you do not speak for the Motie species. Who are Medina Traders? Who must we negotiate with?"
"We are the family with the foresight and the power to be here in the moment after Crazy Eddie's Sister opened a path. You are surely aware that none can speak for the Motie species. It's a problem, isn't it? The Empire doesn't like that." Henry Hudson studied her for a moment. His own posture still showed nothing. "You have learned Motie customs, some of them, but from a group I have never met." It paused again. "I wish to consult the Ambassador. Forgive me." The screen blanked.
"What's happening?" Freddy asked.
"I'm not sure. Captain Balasingham, have you spoken with these Moties?"
"Only formalities, my Lady," Agamemnon's skipper said from the viewscreen. "We instructed them to take station here. They have requested to be taken to our seat of government, and we told them that would happen in due time. Not much else. There's something odd happening, isn't there?"
"Yes."
"Why did he have to go running to his superior?"
"He doesn't represent King Peter. Or anybody who knew King Peter's family."
"King Peter?" Balasingham prompted.
"King Peter headed the Motie alliance that dealt with MacArthur and Lenin. They sent us our first group of Motie ambassadors, the ones I grew up with. But these Moties don't represent King Peter or any large Motie group. He doesn't even know the . . . well, the signals, the body language that Charlie and Jock taught me." Glenda Ruth's arms, torso, shoulders, moved in twitchy intricacy as she recited, " 'Irony, nerves, anger held in check, you ask too much, trust my words, trust me fully.' Universal, simple stuff even a human can learn."
Jennifer Banda wasn't breathing. Behind her unfocused eyes she was trying to memorize what she had seen.
"I'm afraid that still doesn't mean anything to me, my Lady," Balasingham said.
"This Motie represents a group that has been out of contact with King Peter's group for a very long time," Glenda Ruth said. "Cycles. Several cycles."
When Balasingham frowned in puzzlement, Jennifer added, "But King Peter's organization was very powerful. Widespread. Very likely planetwide."
"Planetwide, indeed. They had to be," Glenda Ruth said.
"So any group out of touch so long . . ." Jennifer fell silent.
"I still don't get it, but I guess I don't have to. So what are they consulting about?" Baiasingham demanded.
"I hope," Glenda Ruth said, "I hope he's getting permission to tell us the truth."
"I am instructed to invite you to the Mote system," Henry Hudson said. "To offer you any assistance we can to aid in that journey and thereafter terminate this conversation. I regret that this is necessary."
"I had hoped you would tell us much more."
"We will . . . explain everything, to those who have the power to make decisions," the Motie said. "My Lady, you understand, when we talk to you, we tell you more than we learn, yet if we convince you to aid us, we must also convince others."
"So you are still concealing Motie history," Glenda Ruth said.
"Details that might aid your bargaining position? Yes. Not the basics. It is clear that you now know we are capable of war. You infer our capabilities from the probes we have sent," Henry Hudson said. "But you conceal your recent history, your military abilities, your strategies, as is proper. Doubtless you will reveal these in due time. As we will reveal ours. My Lady, it has been delightful speaking with you, and I hope we will meet again after we have been permitted to speak with those whom you obey. I will receive any recorded message you care to send. Goodbye."
* * *
Commander Balasingham pulled his lips into a tight line. "Andy, I don't like this much."
Anton Rudakov, Agamemnon's Sailing Master, nodded in sympathy.
Balasingham activated the mike again. "Mr. Townsend, it's not yet established that I should permit you to go, much less store your surplus gear and personnel!"
"Oh, well, that's all right, the Moties offered to take care of my gear if you didn't have room," Freddy said.
"Yeah, I heard that."
"I mean, George will have to stay with you, but he's a retired Navy cox'n, he won't be in the way. Good cook," the Honorable Freddy Townsend said wistfully.
Balasingham sighed. "Mr. Townsend, you want to go off to the Mote system. Your ship is unarmed. We've been shooting at Motie ships since before you were born!"
"We've been invited," Freddy said. "By the Moties, Eudoxus and Henry Hudson. We have recognition signals, and both say there won't be any shooting."
"They say it. And you're headed into totally uncharted areas. If you don't come back, the Blaines will have my head even if your parents don't. And to what end?"
Glenda Ruth's voice spoke from off camera, and Freddy was seen to wince a little. "Commodore Renner thought it was important. Mr. Bury thought it was important enough to send one of his ships to rendezvous with us and fill our tanks. It's important, Commander."
"Okay, I'll give you that, they think it's a good idea, but ma'am, that's a dangerous area."
"Hecate's faster than most people think," Freddy said. "Now that we've taken out the luxury stuff."
"And you'll get lost—" Balasingham cut off the mike when he saw his Sailing Master waving. "Yeah, Andy?"
Anton Rudakov said, "Skipper, whatever happens to them, they're not likely to get lost. I know you don't follow yacht racing much, but even you have to have heard of Freddy Townsend."
"Freddy Town— Oh. Invented something, didn't he?"
"Reinvented. In the Hellgate race he did a gravity assist around the star and then unfurled a lightsail. Everybody calls them spinnakers now, but he was the first."
"You sure that's him? He looks like a kid."
"He started racing as crew on his cousin's ship when he was twelve," Rudakov said. "Skippered his own at age seventeen. In the past eight years he's won a bunch, Skipper. He lost at Hellgate, though. The sun flared and the sail shredded."
Balasingham opened the mike again. "My crew tells me I ought to know who you are, Mr. Townsend. And that I should ask you about the Hellgate race."
"Well, I didn't win that one," Freddy said.
"Suppose I send one of my officers with you?"
"Thank you, no."
"Suppose there's a fight?"
The image on the screen changed. A surprisingly adult
young lady, very serious. "Commander," Glenda Ruth said, "we do thank you for worrying about us. But we don't need help! Freddy's ship will be faster without any extra people. We have a good engineer, and if there's a fight, we'll lose, and it won't matter if we have one or fifty of your crew with us."
"Miss Blaine—"
"Warriors," she said. "They're a Motie subspecies bred specifically for war. Nobody's ever seen them in the flesh and lived. We have statuettes of them on record. Our Motie ambassadors tried to tell us they were mythical demons, and that's what they look like . . ."
Glenda Ruth's prose turned rich and purple as she went into detail. Freddy found himself sweating. Given what she knew, why was she willing to face such creatures? But Glenda Ruth had never backed away from a dare.
“Exactly," Balasingham said patiently. "It's too dangerous."
“If we're attacked, we'll surrender," she told him. "And talk."
“Why would they listen?"
“We have something they want. We need to put it in Commodore Renner's hands so that he'll have something to negotiate with."
“What is it, Miss Blaine?"
“I'm afraid that's not my secret, Commander. My father gave it to me. I expect you'll find out in a few weeks. The trouble is, in a few weeks almost anything could happen. Commander, you're risking your ship, your
crew, the whole Empire, on your ability to block the Moties from getting past you."
"It's not what I'd choose—"
"And we admire you for it. But we all know it may not work. Commodore Renner and His Excellency are trying their own approach, and they've asked for our help. Commander, some of the aristocracy may be riding on its privileges, but the Blaines don't!"
Then, more reasonably, but in a tone that did not even hint that it could be disobeyed: "We have a fast ship. Freddy's a racing pilot, his computer is better than yours, our engineer is first rate, and I can talk to Moties better than anyone including my brother. We thank you for your concern. Freddy, let's go. Thank you, Commander."
The screen darkened for a moment.
"She wouldn't dare," Balasingham muttered.
The screen showed the Honorable Frederick Townsend. "Hecate requesting permission to come alongside for fueling," he said formally.
Balasingham heard Rudakov chuckling. No sympathy there! He turned back to the screen. "Permission granted. You can turn your excess baggage over to Chief Halperin."
"Very good. Also, if you have chocolate or oranges aboard Agamemnon, we'll need it all."
Balasingham was beyond surprise. "I'll find out. Godspeed, Hecate."
"Thank you."
* * *
"I-point dead ahead," Freddy said. "Jump in ten minutes. Terry, secure for Alderson Jump. Ladies, strap in good."
Hecate was an empty shell. The main cabin area was crisscrossed by nemourlon webbing. The elaborate shower was gone. Of the cooking gear, only a heater remained. With the walls gone, the oversize water tank made a conspicuous bulge.
Glenda Ruth and Jennifer used the harness attachments at the center of the web. Freddy typed instructions to the ship as Terry Kakumi went from system to system, manually shutting each down to prevent accidental activation following the Jump.
"We shouldn't find any trouble," Glenda Ruth said. "Henry Hudson said that Medina controls the space around the Jump point . . . Crazy Eddie's Sister. I have recognition signals."
"Why do I feel you lack confidence?" Jennifer asked.
"No messages," Glenda Ruth said. "Renner, my brother, Bury—they'd try to get a message through, and even if they didn't manage it, the skipper of Atropos— Rawlins—would have been ordered to get a message out. Freddy, doesn't Atropos carry a boat that could do that?"
"Yep. Longboats on light cruisers have both Field and Drive."
"Fuel?" Jennifer wondered.
"There'd be enough to pop through and squirt a message," Freddy said. "Clear enough they couldn't do that. We might guess that somebody won't let 'em."
"Which means—we're about to Jump into what?" Jennifer asked. "Maybe they'll shoot first! Like we do at the blockade!"
"Not likely." Freddy turned back to his console.
"He's right," Glenda Ruth said. "Look at it. They sent the unarmed embassy fleet. What could they gain by luring ships into the Mote system and destroying them? That wouldn't make sense."
"And we know Moties always make sense," Jennifer said banteringly. "Don't we?"
"Want to go home?" Glenda Ruth asked.
"Humpf."
"Here we go," Freddy said. "We'll go through at nine kilometers a second relative to the Mote. That's close enough to orbital velocity at the other end. Should keep us from running into anything. Other hand, it'll make it easy for anyone to catch us. That okay, Glenda Ruth?"
"Yes."
If the tiny note of uncertainty in her voice upset him, Freddy Townsend didn't show it. "Stand by, then. Here we go."
* * *
Crazy Eddie's Sister was a hundred hours and more than a hundred million kilometers behind Sinbad. Almost everyone was asleep. Buckman was on watch, and Joyce Trujillo had wakened long before she wanted to. She saw it first.
Indicators blinking in the display in front of Buckman. Faerie lights glowing in the magnified display aft, colored balloons, a flash. "Jacob? Isn't that—"
"Activity at the I-point," Buckman said. His voice was thick with fatigue. "We're getting a relay. It's six light-minutes to the I-point, don't know how far the relay ship is from it. Kevin! Captain!"
Everyone crowded into the lounge. Kevin Renner blinked at the displays while Buckman spoke rapidly. "It's a battle, of course. Looks like a third fleet just arriving."
"See if you can get me Eudoxus," Renner said.
"There's a ship!" Joyce said.
"No Field. Not a Navy ship," Blaine said.
The ship's entry triggered events in ever-widening circles. Motie ships changed course. Some fired on others. Those near the intruder—
"Bombs," Buckman said.
The newcomer rotated, tumbled, rotated—
"That's Hecate," Blaine said.
"How do you know?" Joyce demanded.
"Well, it's an Empire-style racing yacht, Joyce."
Joyce was silent. Renner said, "I can't do anything about this myself. Chris, shall we tell them what the treasure is? It might motivate them."
Blaine thought about it. His lips moved rapidly, talking silently to himself; then he said, "No sir. Let me talk to Eudoxus; you're asleep. But we're in a better bargaining position if they don't know about the Worm. We'll let Glenda Ruth work her end."
"If she lives."
* * *
The Master of Base Six, Mustapha Pasha as he would be called when the humans arrived, was lactating. With a babe cradled in his right arms and the urge to mate rising in him, he was not in a proper mood for crisis. Emergencies never happen at a convenient time.
He'd been given this much luck: East India Trading's Masters had no wish to be in Mustapha's company at such a time. Most of them were keeping to their own dome and domains when East India's signal arrived. They must have heard in the same instant that Mustapha did: the Crazy Eddie point had moved.
If it was a false alarm, Medina Trading would lose much bargaining power. Mustapha Pasha would likely die, executed for murder.
Such was luck and such was life. Mustapha began issuing orders. Only details were needed; these plans were years and decades old.
First: bumblebee-sized missiles sprayed the East India dome. Four got through. Most of East India's Masters had been in the ruptured dome, and a third of their Warriors, too, kept as a guard.
East India's remaining Warriors reacted at once; but Mustapha's Warriors were already attacking. Bombs and energy beams tore the Base Six iceball and its fragile housing. Clouds of ice crystals exploded from the surface; colored flashes lit them from within. A kamikaze attack destroyed one of the farming domes. Without orders to guide them, East India's Warriors were going berserk. It didn't matter. They would have had to die, each and all of them, regardless.
Of other classes, many died, too. Mustapha Pasha had enough of Engineers and Doctors and the space-specialized Farmers, who tended the agricultural domes. The remaining Masters of East India Company were held safe, and enough others to give them an entourage. They would serve as hostages until new terms could be made.
After all. East India and Medina were not in fundamental disagreement. They must redivide certain resources and assign access to the powerful aliens on the far side of the Sister; but this was best thought of as a gambling game waged with lasers and gamma beams and projectiles, technology and false maps and treachery.
7
Labyrinth of Lies
As for those with whom you have made a treaty
and who abrogate it every time, and do not fear God,
If you meet them in battle, inflict on them
such a defeat as would be a lesson
for those who come after them,
and that they may be warned.
For God does not like those who are treacherous.
—al-Qur'an
Freddy always recovered first.
And Freddy was swearing in a lurid mumble as his fingers wobbled over the controls. Hecate's oversize attitude jets kicked the racing yacht about like a windball. Glenda Rut
h surged in the elastic web, her vision wobbling about the cabin, uncontrolled. Jennifer was whimpering, trying to curl up. Terry offered no resistance to the turbulence, waiting until his body would obey him.
"Feddy lub," Glenda Ruth said, her tongue like a foreign invader in her mouth, "Freddy! Calm down and talk to me about it!"
"Talk." Another surge, milder this time. "We're surrounded. Embedded in an armada of teeny warships fighting another armada of teeny warships, Coal Sack direction. Nukes going flash. Radiation count is scary. I'm trying . . . I've got the water tank between us and that, if I can stop the lizard-raping rotation!" He was wailing like a child.
"That will do it?"
"Yeah. The water—the water tank. That's what it's for, partly, stop us from getting fried. Partly, when I dive near a sun—that's got it! And there goes another bomb, flash, wouldn't you know, but I think it's blocked, too." He bashed at keys again. "Damn!" Held one key down. "There. Now I think it's safe to wake up the computer, but I'll send it a test problem before I give it control . . .
"Not yet. Another minute. Anyway, when we dive near a sun to get a gravity assist, I don't want solar radiation sleeting through Hecate, so I mounted this mucking great water tank alongside the cabin for a shield. And I freeze it. Then the hull's superconducting, of course, so I can cool the hull by running a wire into the water tank. I can do serious aerobraking or get awfully close to a sun because it can't fry us without first boiling all that thermal mass of water, and even then I can vent the steam—" Freddy sagged back. "And I guess the battle isn't going to fry us, but those ships might unless you talk to them. Computer's safe now. How are you doing?"
"How do I sound?"
"Lucid."
"I'll try talking to them. I don't think I want to move, though. Can you connect me?"
"Sure—one moment. Terry? . . . No answer. He stays out longer than me. All right, you're on the frequency Henry Hudson gave us."
She spoke the syllables she'd been told would show her to be an honored guest of Medina Traders. Nothing. She spoke again.
The Gripping Hand Page 24
