“If we can find the spot where we brought the Slanderscree across the equatorial ice ridge, and if we can pull, push, or otherwise cajole this windboat back the same way,” September reminded him.
Ethan’s expression fell. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Do not worry,” said Williams, trying to bolster his spirits. “We’ll find the place again and we’ll get across if we have to carry the boat on her backs. In any event the exertion will help to keep us warm.”
“I’d prefer an induction heater,” Ethan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
They managed the crossings—though Ethan was convinced his back would break and his legs give out—just as they made it all the way back to the wide, welcoming harbor of Poyolavomaar. Despite their exhaustion the Landgrave insisted on seeing them immediately, whereupon all adjourned to a private meeting chamber in order to avoid the stares and speculative gossip of the court. As T’hosjer T’hos listened quietly to their tale, interrupting only occasionally with a terse, pointed question, Ethan realized that fond as he was of Hunnar Redbeard, the Landgrave of Poyolavomaar was the Tran best suited to represent his world in the councils of the Commonwealth:
He was being premature, he told himself. There might yet not be anything left to represent.
When they’d finished, T’hosjer had a tray of hot drinks brought in. He watched in silence as his guests drained their goblets, the grateful humans not even bothering to inquire as to the nature of the contents. He spoke again as a servitor refilled the containers.
“I do not understand your kind, friend Ethan. What these people attempt beggars reason.”
“Don’t let it bother you.” September leaned back in his chair, held his hot goblet against his forehead and put his feet up on an exquisitely carved table. “We humans have been puttering around with intelligence for about ten millennia now and we don’t understand ourselves either.”
“But why do such a thing? Why condemn tens of thousands of innocent cubs and elders to death? We would be pleased to share our world with any of your kind who would like to live among us.”
September wagged a sardonic finger at the young Landgrave. “Ah, but in that case you’d have to be paid. Commonwealth law requires it.”
“Whenever sentient beings are regarded as nothing more than statistics affecting a profit and loss column, morality is the first casualty of the final reckoning,” Williams solemnly declared.
“Clearly these people have to be stopped and an end put to their evil enterprise.” T’hosjer spoke quietly, thoughtfully. “But how can this be done if they possess the magical light weapons you have spoken of?”
“We’re hoping they had only one of the most powerful kind of light weapon, and we saw that vanish in the belly of something you wouldn’t describe in detail at a polite supper.” September handed his own hand beamer to the fascinated Landgrave. “If all they have left are more of these then we have a chance. Not to defeat them, but to keep them occupied until serious help can arrive from Brass Monkey.”
Ethan nodded. “Milliken will return and confront the Resident Commissioner, explain what’s going on, and see if we can’t have a peaceforcer ship sent from the nearest base to shut these people and their operation down permanently.” He glanced at the teacher. “He’s better at explanations, and Skua and I are better at fighting.”
“The fastest ship in Poyolavomaar will whisk your scholar back to your outpost to give the alarm,” T’hosjer assured them as he rose. “Nor will you brave friends be returning alone. I will mobilize the fleet. But it will take time.”
“It will cheer those we left behind just to know you are coming,” Hunnar assured him.
“Begging your pardon,” said Williams, “and I don’t mean to denigrate your generous offer, sir, but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Everyone stared at him.
“If we return alone, we might be able to sneak back into the harbor and aboard the Slanderscree without alerting anyone. If we arrive with the whole Poyolavomaar navy in tow, Bamaputra will know we got at least this far. He’ll be forced to attack if only to find out what’s going on. I suggest we allow them to believe we perished along with their missing skimmer. That way they won’t be tempted to throw everything they’ve got at us in an attempt to take the ship. Let them continue believing they’ve achieved no worse than a stalemate. It will save a lot of lives.”
September looked excited. “It’ll do more than that, by damn. If they see us limp back to the Slanderscree, the first thing they’ll think is that we didn’t make it anywhere. Otherwise why return? We’re not going to be giving any interviews and they won’t have had the chance—unless they’ve managed to take the ship, which I doubt—to count heads except through monoculars from a distance. Six leave, five come back. I think, we can fool ’em.” He turned back to T’hosjer.
“How long for your best ship to make it to Brass Monkey and back?”
The Landgrave discussed figures with Williams, who transposed to metrics. The results left Ethan nodding with satisfaction.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be. Meanwhile, sir, if it pleases you to alert your forces, then do so. We don’t know how Bamaputra will react to our return and you ought to be ready to defend yourselves if nothing else.”
“Then all is settled.” They rose to leave.
September stepped in front of the teacher. He towered over most men; Williams he dwarfed completely.
“You’re going to be all alone for a bit, my friend. Just you and the Tran.”
The smaller man smiled up at him. “I do not feel uncomfortable among the Tran. We’ve lived with them for nearly two years now. As for human companionship, I’ve spent much of my life living within myself. I’ll be okay.”
“Well, don’t waste time, and don’t stop to ogle the scenery.”
“I intend to stop for nothing.”
The three of them had been together for so long it felt unnatural to be standing on the end of a dock waving farewell to Williams. That was what Ethan and September found themselves doing the following morning as the sleek, narrow-hulled ice ship crewed by the best sailors in Poyolavomaar pulled out of the harbor heading north. Not that either man held any illusions regarding something as archaic as Three Musketeership. They’d been thrown together on this world by accident and kept together by circumstance instead of by choice. But the teacher had been a boon companion; soft-spoken, sensible, and silent unless he had something worthwhile to add to a conversation. They would miss his good counsel.
Skua September was anxious to head back to Yingyapin. His eagerness was matched by Hunnar’s, who though he would not admit it aloud was obviously frantic to be with his Elfa once more. Ethan assured the knight that even if their adversaries had somehow managed to regain control of the Slanderscree, they weren’t likely to engage in a massacre of the escapees.
By mutual consent no one discussed what they would do if for some reason Williams didn’t make it back to the outpost. Tran-ky-ky posed plenty of problems for long distance travelers without opposition from the likes of renegade humans. Stavanzers, wandering barbarians, drooms, storms of varying suddenness and awesome power—any one of these could obliterate a ship and its crew. T’hosjer tried to get them to relax. Williams was traveling on the best ice ship this part of the planet had to offer, assisted and watched over by the finest crew an ice-going city-state could put together. He would make it back to Brass Monkey healthy and ahead of time.
“I sure hope so,” September commented, “or there’s going to be a lot of corpses lying in Yingyapin harbor, and they won’t be of ice.”
Ethan eyed him in surprise. “I thought you liked fighting, Skua.”
“When it serves a purpose. A little war between our people and the citizens of Yingyapin won’t do anyone any good. The Tran would be the ones to shed the real blood, and for what? You know, we’re supposed to be the advanced race on this world. It would be to our credit to settle this trouble without spilling a
ny more local blood than absolutely necessary.”
XIII
JUDGING BY THE LOOKS he drew from passing humans as he trudged toward the administrative complex, Williams knew he must have looked rather like a Tran himself. Weeks out on the ice ocean could do that to a man. His survival suit was battered and discolored, the face visible behind the ice-scoured visor haggard and unshaven.
His companions from Poyolavomaar drew equally curious stares from the local Tran, garbed as they were in their strange attire. For their part, the Poyo sailors valiantly if unsuccessfully strove to gawk at the peculiar alien constructs as inconspicuously as possible. They were fascinated by the distant shuttle port and the smooth, seamless buildings.
The first thing he’d noted upon their arrival was the presence of a shuttle on the ice landing strip. It was in the process of being lowered to the underground hangar dock. He badly wanted to spill his story to its pilot, who could then relay the details to the interstellar vessel lying in orbit overhead, but decided to follow protocol and talk with the Commissioner first. They would be in touch with the proper authorities soon enough.
If anyone had a right to know what was going on, it was the members of the outpost scientific establishment. But what was right and what was necessary didn’t match up at the moment. He had to meet with the Commissioner so she could disburse the crucial information via the deep-space beam. Friends could wait for news of their comrades until the forces of law had been goaded into motion.
Contrary to Ethan’s belief Williams didn’t think they would need a peaceforcer to drive Bamaputra and his team off the planet. The mere fact that their presence and intentions were now known to the rest of the Commonwealth should be enough to send the would-be deluge makers packing. He could see Bamaputra and Antal scrambling to destroy incriminating records as they called frantically for a ship to evacuate the installation. It was an image he relished. Even so, he was willing to forgo the pleasure of seeing their faces again. It was good to be back in what passed here for civilization, good to be able to relax knowing that whatever else happened from this point on, Tran-ky-ky and its people were safe.
The single security guard seated outside the elevators hardly knew what to make of Williams as the teacher stumbled into the building and threw back the hood of his survival suit. Though the temperature inside was maintained at human optimum he found it almost unbearably hot. Maybe he’d acquired more than just the Tran look. He walked over to the small desk with its garland of advanced electronics, put both fists on the synthetic wood, and leaned forward.
“I insist on seeing the Commissioner immediately. It’s a matter of life and death.”
The guard eyed him as though he were some peculiar life form which had wandered in off the ice—which wasn’t far off the mark, Williams reflected.
“I’ll see if Ms. Stanhope is available.”
“You do that.” Williams stepped away from the desk, a bit taken aback by his uncharacteristic forcefulness. The result of spending more than a year in the company of one Skua September, he told himself. When this was over and done with, he would have to learn how to act civilized all over again.
The guard spoke into a pickup, listened quietly for a moment, then put the earpiece aside. “Marquel says for you to go right up.”
“Marquel? Who’s Marquel?”
“The Commissioner’s secretary. She’s over in Hospitality right now. He’s calling her and says for you to go ahead and come up.”
“Thanks.” He turned and headed for the lift, feeling the guard’s eyes on his back.
Guess I am something of a sight, he told himself as the cab ascended. By the time it reached the apex of the pyramidal structure he found himself wishing Skua and Ethan were there to back him up; Skua with his imposing physical presence and Ethan with his glib talk. He didn’t feel comfortable with people like Stanhope, bureaucrats and exercisers of power. He was much more at home with Cheela and Blanchard and the other scientists. They’d treated him as an equal despite the fact that the degrees he held were considerably less impressive than theirs. Good folks. They were depending on him and here he was wasting time as he had so often in the past on useless second thoughts. Just talk, he told himself. The story would take care of itself. He was a teacher, wasn’t he? It was time for a personal tutorial. Time to educate a Commissioner. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
Tough. Standing a little taller, he pushed through into the reception area.
It was empty except for a man not much bigger than himself. Instead of waiting at his desk Marquel had apparently been pacing the floor waiting for Williams to arrive. Now he rushed eagerly forward, the questions coming thick and fast.
“Ms. Stanhope will be here shortly. What happened out there? Where are your companions? What’s going on?”
Anxious as he was to see the Commissioner, Williams saw no harm in giving her secretary a quick rundown on his experiences, concluding by explaining that Ethan and Skua had returned with Hunnar and Ta-hoding to help the Slanderscree’s defenders hold off any further attacks by the renegade humans and their Tran allies.
“You understand how imperative it is that this information be transmitted immediately to the nearest military base so that armed assistance will be forthcoming.”
“Of course, of course.” The secretary was thinking hard. “A terrible situation. No one here had the slightest idea anything of this nature was going on. You know, when you all sailed off in that native ice ship there were a lot of us here who never thought you’d be seen again, and those who thought you would return didn’t expect you to find anything.”
Williams nodded at the door that led into the Commissioner’s office. “Would you mind if we waited in there? I remember there being some soft chairs and I wouldn’t mind sitting down while we wait.”
“No, of course not. Please forgive me.” He opened the double doors and led Williams inside. “It’s just that I was so enthralled by your story.” The doors shut behind them.
“After I tell the Commissioner everything I just told you I’ll need to meet with the heads of the various science departments to inform them of what’s going on. Then I think I’ll sleep for about two days.”
Marquel was nodding sympathetically. “You look like you could do with a long rest.” He pushed open a smaller door leading to a side room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Williams settled down in one of the chairs that faced the Commissioner’s desk. Thick insulated windows looked out over the outpost. Beyond lay the harbor of Brass Monkey with its Tran community and ice ships tied up at the three docks.
Marquel was not long absent. When he stepped back into the office Williams saw that the secretary had changed his clothes. His eyes widened. He didn’t need to ask about the reason for the change. The new attire was self-explanatory.
He spun and bolted for the doors. They were locked. He started pounding on them and yelling.
“That won’t do you any good, you know,” said Marquel.
Williams turned and slid away from the doors, keeping his back against the wall and his eyes on the room’s other occupant. “How did you lock them?”
“Remote inside the desk.” the figure smiled thinly. “I won’t show you where.”
He knew it was Marquel behind the black and crimson hood. He recognized the voice even though most of the face was now concealed. The rest of the tight-fitting black clothing covered the man from toe to neck. It was mildly theatrical, but Williams didn’t laugh at its wearer. There was nothing funny about what it implied. Besides, the slick black material had a practical use. It was highly water-repellent. It would also shed blood.
“You know,” he said conversationally while Williams tried to find another way out of the office, “when you and your friends got rid of Jobius Trell it was a wonderful opportunity for my employers to put someone like myself in a position to oversee their interests here. Until now, though, I haven’t had to do anything except perform as a s
ecretary. I was hoping life would go on that way, but”—he shrugged—“sometimes things don’t always work out the way we plan them. However, our training teaches us to be patient. I hadn’t expected to have to practice my true vocation for the duration of my stay on this world.”
Williams had never seen a Qwarm before, a member of the assassins’ guild, but like most people he’d heard of them. They appeared so often in mass entertainment that myth became mixed with reality. As was often the case with professional criminals, their exploits were highly romanticized, something the Qwarm encouraged. The less seriously people took them, the easier it was for them to practice their art. Their services were very expensive, there weren’t many of them, they were scattered throughout the vastness of the Commonwealth, and in two hundred years the government and the Church had been unable to stamp them out. It was difficult to arouse public opinion against malefactors who materialized but rarely and then vanished.
One had materialized now, across the room from Williams.
“I came aboard, you might say, with the new Commissioner. She’s been very pleased with my work. So have my real employers. I could have killed you and your companions before you left, but if you didn’t find Yingyapin, there was no reason to complicate matters and if you did, I expected Antal and his people to take care of you. Your return is a minor complication easily resolved. It was very thoughtful of you to come straight here, without telling anyone else your story.”
“The security guard downstairs saw me come in.”
“That’s all it’s his business to do.”
“The Tran who brought me here will demand to see me again.”
“You think the Commissioner is going to call for a peaceforcer on the advice of a few excitable natives?” He grinned humorlessly again. “Why do you think Antal didn’t send his remaining skimmer and every ice ship he could muster out after you when the first skimmer didn’t come back? It was because he knew I was here to look after things.”
The Icerigger Trilogy Page 89
