Stone Blade

by James Cox

  When Ramsey returned, now years later, the legation had not changed much. The current Ambassador, Karl Perry, greeted him warmly as did the staff he'd emplaced. Orris now stood Third to the Circle, Unity. Though little pleased to see Ramsey again he was less unfriendly.

  Now this. Not too many weeks ago Perry issued an urgent call for help. For some unknown reason the Circle began pressing on every major and minor point covered in any treaty. Ramsey approved of Perry's actions without reservation. Though an adept negotiator, Perry had an absolute knack for knowing when a situation exceeded his skill. And he had no qualms about calling for help.

  After weeks of careful offers, cajoling, wheedling and assurances the Circle finally seemed ready for a more galactic mode of thought. Then, with no warning, they rebuffed him. His few sources of information dried up and the Unity seemed ready to renounce all treaties and shut out the League entirely. Ramsey reported dutifully. He sent Perry and all non-essential staff away. Then he tried, unwilling to admit defeat, to gain back at least a few trivial points.

  Then came the order. Seated behind his desk with the room secure, Ramsey called up the text of the message.

  “Ambassador Ramsey: In order to further the goodwill and mutually beneficial relations between the League and the Unity of Triumph it is strongly recommended that you, on behalf of the League, host a series of informal gatherings between the League merchants traveling to Unity and such of the citizens there who wish to attend. Please make every effort to attend. Signed...”

  Translation, thought Ramsey, throw a party and mix the League and the Unity together.

  After he cooled and when he considered the order Ramsey formulated a working hypothesis. Some Personage would be traveling to the Unity soon and said Personage wanted a good time and a way to a quick profit. Official pomp, League expense, etc, etc. Unfortunately the Unity populace didn't think along those lines. Perhaps an entrepreneurial merchant managed a bit of pull or someone with no experience outside the League thought profit truly was the universal language. Whatever the rationale the League party would have to make do with what scraps he could afford them. He would not sacrifice all his gains on some vacuum-brained scheme!

  ***

  Morr wanted to fidget. Per orders he reported his meeting with Ramsey to Fourth Velvert, complete with dataspool recording. To Morr's dismay Velvert did not dismiss him immediately. After reviewing the spool he questioned Morr closely. Morr answered honestly but not well, he thought. Velvert's expression was unreadable and his penances were legendary.

  “A conference.”

  “Yes, Fourth.” Morr very carefully did not meet Velvert's gaze. He concentrated instead on the intricate stack of blocks on Velvert's desk. Someone once said he used it as a lesson in Unity.

  “You refused.”

  “Yes, Fourth! It is frivolous and counter to...”

  Velvert motioned him to silence.

  “Indeed, Morr, your reasoning was sound.”

  Morr breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  “There is, however, an opportunity here.” Velvert smiled at Morr's puzzlement. “Ambassador Ramsey shall have his conference. Their sinful, greedy flock of bloodsuckers will be graced by the company of the righteous.”

  “They... Will?”

  Velvert's smile widened.

  “You and I shall attend, Morr, along with an honorable number of others. Do not trouble yourself, I shall attend that detail. You will inform Ambassador Ramsey after I have furnished you the list.”

  “I thank you, Fourth.”

  Velvert's eyes shifted to his stack of blocks. He placed a heavy book atop it. Neither book nor stack moved a millimeter.

  “You wonder, Morr, at my reasoning?”

  Morr cringed at this. He couldn't lie, nor did he wish to speak truly. Velvert chuckled.

  “Speak freely, Morr. Do you fight the enemies of the Unity?”

  “Yes, Fourth! With heart and soul and life!”

  “As do I, Morr. Yet is it not foolishness to oppose strength to strength?”

  “Yes, Fourth.”

  “The key to triumph, Morr, is to place strength against weakness. To strike where the foe cannot see and to attack where he cannot defend.”

  Velvert moved one block. Not far; almost too little for Morr to see. Stack and book crashed to the floor.

  “Do you understand now, Morr?”

  “Yes Fourth! Blessed be the Unity and blessed be the learning!”

  Velvert nodded dismissal and Morr left, heart now lightened. A blow would be struck against the cursed League and he, might his selfish thoughts be forgiven, would have a hand in it!

  ***

  Ramsey, garbed in his formal finest, mingled with practiced ease among the crowds in the legation's ballroom. Despite his misgivings this initial reception between the League folk and the Unitites progressed well.

  The day before the ship arrived Morr and the Brethren of the Order of Righteous Belief handed Ramsey a stunning surprise: a list of citizens, merchants and officials who would '... embrace the opportunity to inform the unworthy by means of honest exchange...' A victory! Ramsey wasted no time issuing invitations and making arrangements. What little staff he had worked tirelessly and produced, by Ramsey, a small miracle!

  On examining the passenger list Ramsey noted mostly merchants with a few odd tourists and a group of college students. All of them expressed pleasure both at Ramsey's efforts and at the Unity presence.

  One of them, though, seemed determined to undo all of what Ramsey had done: Jonas Smit, who felt half pirate with a sense of business ethics geared more toward the thin line of legality than to the spirit of mutual benefit. Nor did his executive assistant, a vapid piece of fluff whose primary talent was preening, do anything to elevate the Unity view of League womanhood. Barely ten minutes into the reception Smit collared Morr, intent on licensing a franchise here. To worsen matters he had a stack of disposable data readers praising his own mercantile ventures. Ramsey decided a quiet word with Signor Smit would be in order.

  “... absolutely fascinating. Don't you agree?”

  Ramsey wrenched his attention away from his problems. Though reticent at first two of the college students, Mike Flint and Rick Creel, finally approached him. They looked a bit old for college but Lafe Treadley and Kara Morgan, two well-established merchants, looked entirely too young. After some nervous chatter Flint and Creel finally confessed their purpose here.

  “Quite so,” temporized Ramsey, “The economic structure here is... Unique. You say research here is critical. May I ask why?”

  Most of the others gathered around Ramsey suddenly found reasons to leave. Apparently, thought Ramsey, he said exactly the wrong thing.

  “It's our project, Mister Ambassador,” said Creel, “With the essentially isolated economic structure and rigid controls, well, no planet in the League will do. There is always a nonlinear trade-related factor we simply can't eliminate. Plus, when you combine the proximity of the League to balance the systems opposed to it the contributing factors are effectively optimal!”

  Ramsey found himself alone now with Flint and Creel. Little wonder why; Creel's fervor bordered on fanatical and their vacations had no room for it. That plus Flint; though he spoke little he exuded a silent menace.

  “I take it, then, that passing this project is important?” Ramsey smiled. He had a fair idea of what they wanted and he remembered his own graduate project warmly.

  “Very much so,” said Flint, “In the quest for knowledge failure is not an option.”

  Ramsey felt his eyes widen and he clutched his glass tightly. He would serve no good purpose by dropping it! He stopped himself from looking around; if these two were what they claimed to be they'd not have spoken to any person save himself.

  “I see.” Ramsey gathered his aplomb and managed a smile. “If you'll come with me we can make the arrangements.”

  As they walked toward Ramsey's office he caught his aide's eye. A shrug and a casual sign lat
er the man left the room. Ramsey didn't have many Marines here, but enough to handle the situation if it soured.

  Ramsey sat behind his desk and motioned Creel and Flint to chairs in front of it. He called up the message he'd received and slid the retscanner across the desk. Both of the others authenticated. The message on Ramsey's screen shifted and he relaxed.

  “Good enough,” asked Creel.

  “Absolutely. How can I help you?” Ramsey felt a sense of impending relief. If the legation here failed now it would fail because the League itself could find no way to succeed!

  “For us,” answered Creel, “Access to the government library and unclassified data archives. We really will be doing research there and we want them to know we're digging. You'll probably want it for the other college kids, too. Several of them might find something of interest here. Do you have a secure hard-channel into the local net?”

  “Yes and no. I have a hard channel but I can't vouch for security past the first splice.”

  “Good enough,” said Creel. He handed Ramsey a datacube. “Here's an encryption tunnel. I'd appreciate having it by tomorrow, if you can.”

  Ramsey nodded.

  “We'd also like a report,” said Flint, “Not just facts. Opinions, hunches, feelings, or details you didn't put in your official messages. Anything that can give us a feel for the people here.”

  Ramsey smiled. Not many operatives would ask for that.

  “For your information, all the Unitites here are plants.”

  Ramsey looked at Flint with some surprise. “I knew some were, of course.”

  “All of them are. With the exception of Morr and I'm not sure about him. Again I'd appreciate any information on him. Or the other one...”

  “Velvert,” contributed Creel.

  “Of course,” nodded Ramsey, “I'm sorry I didn't think to scan them. If I'd known I might have been able to arrange it.”

  Creel activated his wrist terminal and sent Ramsey a squirt.

  “Chip it and hide it,” said Creel, “Those readers are one-shot biometric scanners. Jonas can tell you which reader goes with whom.”

  Smit! “Is he with you?”

  “Yes,” smiled Creel, “he and Meshella both. They are the loud noise we'll be hiding behind. I take it they're sufficiently offensive?”

  “Yes. I thought on having a word with him. With both of them, in fact.”

  Flint chuckled at this and Ramsey almost winced. Mirth simply did not fit the man.

  “Please don't,” said Creel, “Or do! That might work. We need a lot of attention concentrated on them.”

  “Or not,” said Flint, “Just picture how good the others will look by comparison.”

  Ramsey nodded. “Slib. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate.”

  The two operatives rose and offered their hands.

  “Thank you, Mister Ambassador.”

  ***

  Micah and Ferrel settled into their room. Ferrel unpacked his terminal carefully, checked the readout and nodded to Micah.

  “I'm hollow,” said Ferrel, “and bored. How about we check out the bar?”

  “Refectory,” corrected Micah.

  “What-EVER. We won't get any studying done tonight and an evening on the town will do me a galaxy of good!”

  “Polar.”

  The Unity officials booked all the League tourists at the same hotel. Hostel, thought Micah. All of the rooms and certainly the public areas were monitored but they could certainly do something in a crowd. Micah claimed a table away from the walls while Ferrel fetched some of the weak ale Unity considered hospitable.

  Before long Kidwell sauntered to Micah's table and sat. Over meaningless pleasantries Micah dug out an ornate box, offered her a drugstick and took one for himself. Micah didn't particularly care for the things but the box held several very useful instruments.

  None of the gems sparkled which meant no active transmitters at the table. The mini-garble didn't work much past half a meter but the two of them could eyeball that easily.

  “Well?” How Kidwell managed to speak so clearly yet smile so vacantly Micah did not know!

  “We made contact. Ramsey's with us four-by. He'll have access and tunnel by tomorrow. What about you and Ted?”

  “Cryo-double-plus. Morr's an idiot with a fancy chair but some of the others weren't. Your room wired?”

  “Yeah. Rather crude of them, don't you think? How could one possibly pass an intimate evening with friends?”

  “Bottomfeeder!” Kidwell's smile didn't change but her eyes stuck out her tongue at him.

  “We should have something solid soon,” said Micah, “I hope.”

  “I'll have their net burned by lunch,” said Ferrel, sitting beside Kidwell.

  “I'll tell Ted, then.”

  Kidwell took Ferrel's hand and Micah killed the garble.

  “I do so much agree with you, Rick,” said Kidwell, instantly transforming into Meshella, “I say we find out what passes for dancing on this rock.”

  “I would enjoy that, my dear,” said Ferrel, “By the bye, Mike, your girlfriend's making eyes at you.”

  Micah sensed their laughter. As they walked away one of the other tourists sat beside him. Some years younger than Micah, Missy Haffenstatler was attending college '... because my parents think I should...' and traveling '... because my parents think it will be a positive learning experience.' She helped herself to one of Micah's 'sticks and snuggled up to him.

  “Did you get yourself unpacked, Mikey?”

  “Yes. I'm ready for the library tomorrow.”

  “My dear Mikey, you are far too studious. Do you remember that precious cafe we passed just down the street?”

  “Yes.” Micah remembered the entire route but Haffenstatler had no need to know that!

  “We simply must eat there. That reception was adorable but the food was far too light to last. And that little place looked so wonderful. Besides,” she said, taking his hand, “how better to start your studies than a romantic dinner for two?”

  “How better?”

  Despite the months and years he'd studied tactics and strategy Micah saw no way out of this! Conceding defeat he gathered his things, rose and offered Missy his arm.

  ***

  Micah disconnected his terminal from the Library's, powered it down and rubbed his eyes. Several of the Unitites around him scowled but in the week he'd worked in the place he and Ferrel had grown accustomed to it. The two of them started toward the exit. Two of the people tracking them today left ahead with the other two behind. Micah and Ferrel exchanged wry glances.

  The Unity would not profit from trailing Micah and Ferrel. They'd learned a great deal, all of it blatantly covered by their research. Ramsey had Ferrel's tunnel in place so he received the information as well. He and Micah also sent Ramsey the other tidbits they unearthed.

  Back at the hostel two of their shadows left and the other two settled inconspicuously across the street. Micah and Ferrel did nothing whatsoever to rouse their suspicions. After a light meal they headed almost toward the spaceport.

  “Ready,” whispered Ferrel.

  “Six-sigma.”

  The two of them were followed, of course, but no longer. Brethren of the Walkers in Light, Unity's constables, took biometrics. They scanned the readouts and motioned Micah and Ferrel through. One didn't even try to hide his snarl.

  At first glance Anathema was the cleanest downzone Micah had ever seen. All planets with starports had downzones. With presumed extraterritoriality only a few meters away and ships arriving and departing, downzones sprouted like a zrock and plastic fungus wherever authority thinned. Despite the wishes of its more upright citizens Unity was no exception.

  After a little wandering Micah saw what he wanted. He and Ferrel now wandered one of Anathema's less clean streets.

  “Bangers,” said Micah.

  “You sure? That could be random.”

  Micah shrugged. “Possible but I doubt it.”

&nb
sp; Ferrel nodded.

  “Doublejack,” said Ferrel after another block, “Look at 'em gathering.”

  Micah very carefully didn't smile. Though not dressed extravagantly he and Ferrel were still several cuts above the youth and not-so-youth now watching them. Outwardly ignorant of their peril the two walked into a shabby cafe.

  The waitress evaluated them instantly. She saw the bangers following them and decided to display her charms nonetheless. These fine tourists would, no doubt, be robbed of their valuables but nothing stopped her from profiting beforehand.

  “Thank you, Miss,” said Micah, tipping the lady quite well. She smiled in return and made the crisp bills disappear.

  Micah sipped his tea carefully. It was strong, bitter and uncomfortably hot but not bad. Ferrel set his aside after one taste.

  “Flames, Mike. Do you even have any taste buds?”

  “One or two,” replied Micah, “I was thinking about some nibblers. If we have time.”

  “We don't,” said Ferrel quickly, “We're vastly outnumbered now and I think the leader just arrived.”

  “Pity,” said Micah, “I doubt it's worse than greased rats.”

  Ferrel scowled at that. Unlike Micah he didn't care for League military rations.

  Micah motioned to their waitress. She smiled and swayed over to them.

  “Yeah, doll?”

  Micah lowered his voice. “Is there a back way out of here? I think...” He glanced toward the gathering bangers.

  “Of course, doll, but I don't think it'll help any.” She started to say more but Micah motioned her to silence.

  “Just show us, please.”

  That plus another generous tip overcame her reluctance.

  The rear entrance opened onto a narrow alleyway well-decorated with refuse and other debris. Dim light filtered back; enough, at least, for Micah and Ferrel. Not far ahead the narrow passage opened, likely where several other alleys met. They increased their pace.