In the Stormy Red Sky-ARC

by David Drake

  "Rise, Chieftains Harry Holland and Dennis Little," said the official standing on the platform of the gilded—or even golden? Adele would know—throne. "Hear the wisdom of his holy majesty Headman Hieronymos."

  The Enunciator's voice was piped through a public address system with a good deal of distortion. The hall's acoustics weren't impressive, since the pillars and the ceiling coffers muddied the words. Mind, in the present company it would've been a surprise if the setting were any better.

  "Chieftain Holland, Chieftain Little!" said Hieronymos. He looked like a child being engulfed by a golden robe and turban, but his voice was clear and as strong as that of his Enunciator. "You may rise to hear my judgment."

  The throne was on a three-step platform, gold like most of the hall's other trappings. The Enunciator was immediately below the Headman, while on the wings of the broad bottom stage sat a man and a woman on less ornate, silver-covered, chairs.

  The silver-clad woman had a regal, utterly bored, expression. She was young but not, if Daniel was judging correctly, as young as Hieronymos. The plump, middle-aged man wore garments slashed with black and silver stripes. His lips smiled, and his eyes were as cruel as a cat's.

  "That arrogant little worm," hissed Senator Forbes, who stood between Daniel and Lieutenant Commander Robinson at the back of the hall. "If he goes on like this, he may find himself the first man in three hundred years that the Republic has flayed and stuffed with straw!"

  The two petitioners—Daniel didn't know what the term "Chieftain" implied, and it wouldn't be practical to ask Adele at present—had been kneeling beneath the throne, both hands on top of their lowered heads. Now they rose to their feet.

  They were wearing what looked like military uniforms, but so was almost everyone else in the audience hall. Given the variety of styles and bright colors, always complemented by metallic braid, this must be civilian fashion on Karst: the Hegemony couldn't possibly have that many different military organizations.

  Daniel hoped the locals standing nearby hadn't heard the ambassador's whispered reference to the execution of the Burghers of Rainham, or anyway hadn't heard it clearly. Not that there wasn't justification for her anger: when the Cinnabar delegation entered the hall, an usher had barred their way forward with his gilded staff.

  Daniel's smile spread a little wider. For a moment, he'd thought Forbes was going to feed the usher his staff by the back way. After that, well, Dress Whites weren't ideal for a fight and Hogg wasn't present to watch the young master's back, but Tovera out in the anteroom would no doubt prove useful if the need arose.

  The need wouldn't arise. Forbes might be harshly insulting, but she wouldn't have risen to prominence in the Senate if she'd been in the habit of brawling with servants.

  "Chieftain Holland, you entrusted three thousand tonnes of dried fish to Chieftain Little," the Headman said, his tone as portentous as that of a man speaking of the world's coming doom. "Chieftain Little, you shipped the fish to Cameron on a vessel owned by your brother-in-law in accordance with your undertaking to dispose of the fish at your sole cost and expense, with half the profit to accrue to you. The ship never reached Cameron."

  The chieftains were bobbing their heads in agreement. Little wore a bright green outfit with gold braid on the seams and a fourragere; Holland's jacket was black, but his kepi and trousers were puce and he had just as much gold ornamentation as his rival. The hall more reminded Daniel of an ill-arranged garden than it did a real courtroom.

  "He's holding us up to discuss fish," Forbes hissed. But of course he wasn't: Hieronymos—or the grinning shark below him—kept the Cinnabar delegates waiting to demonstrate his contempt. He probably thought he was demonstrating power as well, but an RCN officer knew that real power wasn't a matter of words and precedence.

  "After consultation with my learned advisors . . ." the Headman said. The plump scoundrel below the throne smirked to the audience. "I have decided that because Chieftain Little didn't sell the fish, he has failed in his contract. Chieftain Little must pay the full Karst value of the fish to Chieftain Holland."

  "This is unjust!" Little cried, raising his fists skyward in a theatrical gesture. He didn't sound really upset, however. It seemed likely enough that he and his brother-in-law knew more about where the cargo had gone than appeared in the official report. "May the Gods justify me!"

  "In addition," Hieronymos said, "Chieftain Little forfeits the profit expected had the shipment been sold on Cameron as a fine to the Hegemony, as represented by my august person. The audience is hereby at an end."

  "What?" said Little. "This is criminal! Scully, you took my money, you slimy bastard!"

  Little lunged toward the greasy courtier. Four attendants converged on him; they wore cloth-of-gold tabards, but their electromotive carbines were quite functional. They tripped the disgruntled chieftain, then beat him silent with their gun butts before dragging him out. The woman in silver turned her expressionless face to follow the bleeding victim.

  It's always a mistake to underbribe an official, Daniel thought. He continued to smile, but what he'd just seen reminded him of maggots fighting in offal.

  Hieronymos murmured in the ear of his Enunciator, who straightened and boomed, "His holy majesty Headman Hieronymos will now hear the worshipful envoys of the Republic of Cinnabar!"

  Senator Forbes strode forward, her arms crossed before her. The usher hopped out of her way a little more quickly than perhaps he'd intended to; that saved his shins a knock from the thick sole of the buskin which, worn beneath Forbes formal robes, added three inches to her modest height.

  Daniel and Lieutenant Robinson stepped off to the Senator's right and left, keeping a pace behind her out of courtesy. Besides, to catch up they'd have to run, which would still further increase the affair's resemblance to farce.

  Daniel had never been good at formal drill, but fortunately Robinson was. By matching his step to his First Lieutenant's thirty-inch strides, they were able to look professional, though the Senator drew noticeably ahead along the fifty yards of aisle to the base of the throne. There she waited, her arms still crossed, while the RCN officers completed the necessary three further paces to flank her again.

  "Headman Hieronymos!" Forbes said. "Your grandfather came down from his seat to meet the representatives of Cinnabar, as befits all who wish to retain the Republic's good will."

  Her voice wasn't being amplified. The officials in front of her would have no difficulty understanding, but the audience in general was going to find her address a muddy hash. Knowing that probably made Forbes tone even more raspingly angry than usual.

  "A great deal has changed since Headman Terl's day," said the official in black and silver. "Terl was an old man, perhaps too old to properly hold such a responsible position long before he passed."

  Forbes turned slightly toward the official, then back to Hieronymos with the precision of a lathe making a cut. "I am here on behalf of my government," she said, "to speak of the Headman of the Hegemony. Not with some fat flunky!"

  Hieronymos continued to look straight ahead. The Enunciator, obviously briefed for this ahead of time, said, "His holy majesty Headman Hieronymos chooses to speak through the person of his trusted councillor, Chieftain of Chieftains Scully."

  "His holy majesty Headman Hieronymos conveys his deepest sympathy to you, Mistress Forbes," Scully said. If his voice were any smoother, there'd have been oil dripping from the corners of his mouth. "He knows that the complete destruction of your republic's forces in the Montserrat Stars is a tragedy rarely if ever equalled since time immemorial. How your hearts must ache! How your cities will grieve, while your enemies rejoice!"

  Daniel felt a sudden hot buzzing under his skin as though he were about to faint. They wouldn't say that if there weren't something behind it.

  Forbes had no such concerns. "Where did you hear this arrant twaddle?" she demanded. Her eyes were riveted on the Headman. "Has your dog here taken leave of his senses, boy?"

 
"I take no offense, Mistress . . ." said Scully. Despite the easy words, his smirk looked somewhat the worse for wear. "Since I realize you're ignorant rather than merely boorish. Captain Greathouse, will you and your colleagues come forward and inform these poor folk from Cinnabar?"

  Three men in bright green and gold stepped from a doorway concealed behind the throne. Any one of them would've fit in with the crowd of courtiers in the body of the hall, but three together meant they were in uniform; specifically, the dress uniform of officers in the Alliance Fleet.

  "Captain Stewart Greathouse," said Scully, still grinning at Forbes but gesturing toward the Alliance officers with his right hand. "And his aides, the Lieutenants Chieftain Brian and Melvin Cohen."

  Greathouse was well over six feet tall and built in proportion to his height. Though bulky, he moved as smoothly as a fighting bull. There was a long purple scar on his right cheek. It continued to the point of his chin, whitening a wedge of his otherwise-black beard. His eyes glanced across Robinson and Forbes, but they lingered for a time on Daniel Leary.

  The slender, blond, Cohen brothers had girlishly pretty features. They were in their mid-twenties, but if the lighting were helpful they could pass for teenagers. They gave the Cinnabar contingent practiced sneers as they followed Captain Greathouse to the front of the throne. All three fell forward, abasing themselves as abjectly as the Hegemony citizens had done earlier.

  "Rise, my brothers from the Alliance!" said the Headman, speaking for himself. "Inform these visitors of how you crushed your enemies in the Montserrat Stars."

  Greathouse rose with the ponderous grace of a starship lifting. He bowed low to Hieronymos, then turned to face the Cinnabar envoys. His eyes were on Daniel, not on Senator Forbes.

  "Gladly, your holy majesty," Greathouse said. Directional microphones picked up and amplified his voice, but that thunderous bass could've filled the hall without support. "The enemy was in force on the world of New Harmony. My friend and superior Admiral Petersen isn't the sort to dally. He gathered his forces and struck for the enemy's heart."

  "We ground them to dust!" cried one of the Cohens. The operator of the parabolic mike picked him up in mid-phrase. "When a battleship explodes, it looks like a star, and there were four of the Cinnabar rascals exploding together. It was like the Feast of the Guarantor's Birthday on Pleasaunce!"

  "Yes," said Greathouse, still watching Daniel. He wasn't gloating, but made his delivery all the more believable. "We caught the Locke and Aquinas in orbit and crushed them. The Heidegger and Hobbes tried to join the action, but they were still climbing out of the gravity well when we destroyed them. They fell into the harbor."

  Greathouse shrugged. "A few of the smaller RCN ships got away," he went on, "but that's temporary; we're chasing them down now. And of course those few worlds of the cluster who hadn't already joined the Alliance did so since the victory."

  That could be a complete fabrication, Daniel thought, but the Veil is too close to the Montserrat Stars for deception to last more than a few days. Unless Petersen has a very short-term objective, the story is basically true.

  "Well, Captain Leary?" jeered the boy on the throne. "What do you have to say to that?"

  "I have nothing to say to that, your majesty," Daniel said. His words weren't being miked. Well, he hadn't thought they would be.

  He turned very deliberately to face the belly of the hall. Hieronymos and his flunkies would still be able to hear him; and if they thought they were being insulted, so much the better.

  "I am an officer of the Republic of Cinnabar Navy!" he boomed. He'd learned to project his voice while calling to shore from a small boat off the coast of Bantry. He might not sound as honey-smooth as a practiced orator, but by thunder! they'd hear him at the back of the hall. "We're not in the habit of getting our facts from officers of the Alliance, whom we've defeated so many times in the past!"

  "Come along, men!" Senator Forbes said. She turned on her heel, crisply but with more vehemence than an Academy drill instructor would've approved. "This is no place for Cinnabar nobles who value their reputations."

  This certainly didn't work out well, Daniel thought as they strode along. That was nothing new to a spacer, of course. When he was outside the audience chamber, he'd be able to start serious planning; which left the problem of getting outside, of course.

  The central aisle had seemed long when he and Robinson followed the Senator down to the throne. It seemed a great deal longer in the other direction with Daniel's shoulders prickling against the possibility of a shot.

  Or perhaps rotten fruit. That would be even more embarrassing, though more survivable as well. He didn't suppose the Headman's petitioners attended his levees with rotten fruit, though, or that they were permitted to attend with guns. There was still a risk that Hieronymos would order his guards to shoot the Cinnabar envoys, but that was unlikely even for an arrogant, rather stupid, boy.

  Daniel grinned. The usher who'd barred their way to the throne watched them from the doorway. When he saw Daniel's cheerful expression, he backed aside in growing horror.

  Daniel threw the double doors open for his companions. Still smiling, he tossed the usher a salute as they went out. Generally his salutes looked as though he were trying to learn fly-fishing, but this time it was uncommonly sharp.

  The soldiers, some of them probably guards, in the antechamber were just as bored and relaxed as they'd been when the Cinnabar contingent arrived. They and the civilians—aides, courtiers, and loungers who could afford good enough clothes to enter the palace—watched the envoys leave with the same mild interest that they'd have given dogs walking across the room, and a good deal less than if the dogs had been mating instead. Tovera was almost invisible among the gaily colored rabble.

  "A communicator!" Daniel said, holding out his right palm. Tovera tossed him the standard RCN unit she held ready, then put her hand back inside the attaché case as she fell in behind the envoys.

  They crossed the antechamber. "Signals, this is Six," Daniel said. He was taking some risk in speaking before they were at least out of the building, but he very much doubted that anybody on Karst would be able to crash whatever encryption Adele and her servant were using. "I need any information you've gotten on recent events in the Montserrat Stars, over."

  "Captain, this is intolerable!" Senator Forbes said in her buzz-saw voice. "We'll return to Xenos immediately and—"

  To Daniel's utter amazement, Mister Robinson touched the tips of his left index and middle fingers to the Senator's mouth. "Aunt Bessie," he said, "Captain Leary needs to concentrate on the safety of the mission right now."

  As they exited to the courtyard where the aircar waited, Adele began recounting the disaster at New Harmony with her usual frigid calm.

  CHAPTER 12

  Hegemony Harbor on Karst

  Daniel hadn't changed out of his Whites when he reached the Milton. There'd have been time and his Grays were technically sufficient as well as being more comfortable and practical, but it was just possible that the greater formality would help when he met the Hydriotes shortly.

  "Captain Leary!" said Senator Forbes, storming past the Marines at the bridge hatchway. They didn't so much admit her as ignore her presence the way they did air flowing through the ship's environmental system. "Instead of dealing with this insult to the Republic, you've given the crew liberty! I want you to take me back to Cinnabar at once. At once, do you hear?"

  "Your Excellency," Daniel said, rising politely from the command console. Forbes had changed in her compartment; Senatorial robes and the buskins she wore with them were impossible in the tight confines of a warship.

  Robinson—still in his first-class uniform—had followed the Senator with tight lips and a worried grimace. The poor fellow was between a rock and a hard place: sure he would either offend either his great-aunt or his captain. He'd demonstrated in the Angouleme Palace that he was an RCN officer first, but he wouldn't have any better idea of Daniel's plans than the
Senator did. And certainly if you didn't know where those plans were going, the first stage—calling Vesey from the aircar and telling her to give the starboard watch three hours liberty—must look so perverse as to be insane if it weren't instead treasonous.

  Daniel glanced around him. Rather than key the intercom, he raised his voice and said, "Clear the bridge! Only Senator Forbes and Officer Mundy are to remain. Move it, spacers!"

  The RCN personnel, Robinson included, reacted immediately. Borries looked as though he might have said something, but Vesey gripped him firmly by the shoulder as she went past and turned him toward the hatch.

  "What's this?" said Forbes, startled but no longer evidently furious.

  Rather than answer her, Daniel said in a much harsher tone, "Hogg, that means you and Tovera too. Out, and close the hatch behind you."

  Hogg shrugged and obeyed. Tovera gave Daniel a sardonic grin as she followed, or anyway he thought she did. It's generally a mistake to anthropomorphize the behavior of reptiles, though. Regardless, Hogg closed the hatch as directed.

  "Your Excellency," Daniel said, "this is between the three of us as Cinnabar citizens. I apologize in advance for any seeming discourtesy. If I didn't respect you, you wouldn't be here."

  Adele had rotated the seat of her console so that she faced him and Forbes in the center of the compartment. Her eyes were on the display of the little data unit in her lap, however.

  "Leary," said the Senator, "I know your reputation. If you try to manipulate me, I'll make it my life's work to have you executed by Bill of Attainder. Even if I have to wait for your father's death to do it!"

  "Yes, ma'am," said Daniel. He smiled faintly. "With that understood, I'll proceed with the briefing."

  Forbes' threat was a warning. Corder Leary wasn't the sort to wait for an enemy to do something overt. Nor was Hogg, which was the main reason Daniel had sent his servant off the bridge.

  "We're still taking on supplies," Daniel explained. He thought of suggesting that they both sit down like Adele, but this wasn't quite the time. "We could lift without them, but that would look like panic—and we'd be short of fresh fruits and vegetables for the voyage home."