by David Drake
"—are well over two thousand years old."
"That's right," said Gambardella with a quizzical expression. "The foundations of our offices are made from the stones from the headquarters as well."
He coughed. "You're a historian, Lady Mundy?" he said.
"An antiquarian," Adele said primly. "And Captain Leary as a naturalist might be interested to learn that the coin-like buttons that compose the limestone are the skeletons of plankton from fifty million standard years ago. But neither of those things is the reason we're meeting here. Senator?"
Forbes looked at her with a flash of anger; it subsided into a smile of respect, albeit grudging respect. Returning her attention to the Hydriotes she said, "Lady Mundy is of course correct. Gentlemen, we wish to arrange for the transport of approximately five thousand workers. They can travel in spartan conditions, though they should be better treated than the cargoes of slave ships. Not that Hydriotes would be engaged in slaving, of course."
"Over what distance?" Christianson said, staring into his open palm. It was empty.
Forbes glanced at Daniel. He nodded and said, "I would ordinarily say twelve days for a merchantman, but you're Hydriotes. Perhaps you can make the run in ten."
He raised an eyebrow in question. "Am I able to speak in confidence?" he said.
"Yes," said Gambardella. He didn't have to consult his fellows. "Anything said at this table is in confidence."
"Good," said Daniel, bobbing his head twice in understanding. "Captains," he said, "we wish to transport laborers from Fonthill to Bolton."
The waiter arrived with three flat bowls along each arm and a round of bread on his head; his right hand clutched six spoons. He bent over the table.
"A moment," Gambardella said. "And you visitors should note that the edge of the utensil is sharpened on the back side. If you're left-handed, it behooves you to be extremely careful."
The waiter shuffled the bowls off his right arm with his left hand, serving the Hydriotes, then dropped the spoons on the table and cleared his left arm with his right hand. Finally he straightened and laid the loaf in the center of the table without either a plate or a napkin beneath it.
"Enjoy!" he said. He sauntered toward the couple rising from a table across the plaza.
"You would provide us with the coordinates of Fonthill?" Weber said. His expression hadn't changed in any way Adele could identify, but she was suddenly struck by his resemblance to a fox. "For you see, we understood these coordinates were a closely held secret."
"We'll supply the coordinates, yes," Daniel said.
Adele's wands twitched. She said, "Captain Christianson, you've been recording this conversation on the data unit in your left breast pocket. I've just transmitted those coordinates to you, so that you can distribute them to the other ships of the argosy which will be required for transport."
It was probable that all the ships which the Hydriotes picked for the operation would have made the journey to Fonthill in the past, under contract to Master Beckford. These men wouldn't have admitted their knowledge, however, if the Cinnabar envoys hadn't proved they already had the information.
"This is very interesting," said Gambardella, speaking with what was probably unexpected honesty. "But I'm very sorry, Senator. We of Hydra cannot be parties to an act of war."
"Let alone an invasion!" said Weber, his moustaches twitching. "Do you think we're unaware of Bolton's defenses?"
Adele looked at the contents of her bowl: six caterpillars, corpse-white with brown splotches, in gravy. Each worm was the thickness of Daniel's thumb. They were, at least, dead.
"This is simply a transportation contact between ports controlled by the RCN," Daniel argued. "Of course we wouldn't ask you to land on Bolton if it were in Alliance hands."
Adele locked her display and put the control wands in their carrying slots, though she didn't shut down the data unit on her lap. Following Captain Christianson's lead, she cut the end off a worm with the back of her spoon, then scooped it to her mouth. The gravy was tangy, with a hint of peppers and sage.
"I find it hard to believe that your Republic's navy will capture Bolton, at least during the lifetimes of us at the table here," Gambardella said. "I thought that even last week. Yesterday, my cousin brought his ship from New Harmony, saying that the Alliance had captured the planet after destroying the Cinnabar fleet in the cluster."
"Nonetheless, it's true," said Senator Forbes. She was forceful and sounded more certain than she had in recent discussions with Adele and Daniel. "All you're being asked to do is to land five thousand unarmed laborers to Bolton. There's no question of being involved in an invasion."
"We're here, gentlemen," Daniel said, "because of our respect for the skill and integrity of Hydriote merchants. I would hope that you in turn hold our Republic and the RCN in what I believe should be deserved respect. Bolton will be ours before your vessels land."
Adele munched her way through the first worm and started on the second. Neither Daniel nor the senator were eating. In Daniel's case it may have been solely because he was focused on the negotiations. From Forbes's expression when she'd looked into her bowl, her lack of appetite was for other reasons.
Weber glowered; Christianson ate while watching Adele in puzzlement as she also ate. Gambardella said, "You're a very surprising man, Captain Leary. You're all very surprising."
Gambardella's gaze wavered between Forbes and Adele, then locked again on Daniel. He continued, "But I'm afraid that though technically such a charter as you propose could be considered neutral, the Alliance would have another opinion of it. By all accounts, Guarantor Porra takes a very robust view of the law."
"Unless . . . ," said Weber carefully. Had they orchestrated this? The timing was perfect. "This were a private charter, one which didn't involve the Republic of Cinnabar. Hydriote ships have taken private cargoes to and from Bolton during the present war, after all."
Gambardella pursed his lips, then looked at Forbes and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you would care to charter the necessary vessels, Mistress Forbes?" he said. "Or could you act as agent for Master Beckford? I don't think I'm disclosing any matters that will surprise you if I say that we've carried many cargoes for Beckford to worlds controlled by the Alliance."
Forbes laughed in what seemed to be good humor. "I don't think I'll trouble Prince Willie on this," she said. "And as for chartering ten or a dozen transports at war rates—it would be war rates, wouldn't it?"
The Hydriotes looked at one another. Christianson said, "Yes, I fear that for the region you're discussing, that would be necessary. Though these would be private cargoes."
"Of course," said Forbes. "Would you accept my personal note for that amount, Captain Gambardella?"
Gambardella looked embarrassed. Not all senators were fabulously wealthy. On learning of the embassy, Adele had investigated Forbes and found that she was deeply in debt from her failed run for the speakership. She hadn't held the position of Finance Minister very long, but even so a less scrupulous person would have made a better thing of it.
"We'd discuss the matter among ourselves and with the local agents you direct us to," said Christianson. "In the normal course of business, you understand."
He too sounded subdued. His eyes were on Adele as she mopped the rest of her gravy with a wedge of bread she'd torn from the loaf.
"So that isn't practical either," said Forbes in the same bright, bantering tone as before. "Fortunately, gentlemen, before the Milton lifted from Cinnabar, the managing partner of the Shippers' and Merchants' Treasury summoned me for a consultation. She authorized me to pledge the full credit of her bank on such commercial ventures as I might sumble across on a mission such as this."
"Well bless my soul!" Daniel said. "Why, that's my bank! And the manager is my sister Deirdre!"
"Yes," said Adele. She cleared her throat. "How very fortunate that you'd made this arrangement, Your Excellency."
In a very different sense the Shippers' and Merch
ants' Treasury was Corder Leary's bank. He owned the bulk of the shares and had installed his daughter as managing partner.
Knowing Deirdre's eye for a profit, the bank expected to make a good thing out of this when the Senate approved transfer of the contracts to the public exchequer. The element of risk justified the profit, however, as the supersession of the contract by the Republic would only occur if Captain Leary's plans were successful.
Deirdre wouldn't have been able to provide so sweeping a credit without the approval of the majority partner. On principle, Daniel would never have accepted the money if he'd known it came from his father; but Adele's principles didn't require that she inform her friend.
The Hydriote captains stared at one another. Adele didn't see any type of communication pass between them, nor did her personal data unit detect anything in the electro-optical band, but clearly something was going on.
Captain Gambardella turned to Forbes. "The Shippers' and Merchants' Treasury is well known to us," he said. "Not that we doubt your word, Senator, but do you have this authorization in a form that . . . ?"
"Yes," said Forbes, pulling open the placket on the bosom of her tunic. What Adele had assumed was either a stiffener or body armor turned out to be a fitted document case. "This in the electronic form—"
She laid a chip on the table, sliding the remainder of the bread to the side. Christianson immediately fitted it to the data unit which he'd taken out at the same time.
"—and in a more colorful medium," Forbes said, handing a sheet of parchment to Captain Gambardella. It was small enough to fit in the case without folding or rolling, but even in a quick glance Adele saw ribbons, seals, and text in a tiny copperplate hand as regular as printing.
She smiled coldly. Given that the document represented a credit greater than the net product of many worlds, it ought to be ornate.
"This is satisfactory," Captain Gambardella said, handing back the letter of credit. "Very satisfactory. Captain Leary, when will you have the details of the contract ready?"
Adele had unlocked her data unit when she finished lunch. Her wands twitched.
"I believe Lady Mundy has just transmitted them," Daniel said, smiling. He leaned back on his stool. "Your standard commercial rates, adjusted by a fifteen percent war risk premium. Calculated time to the rendezvous and destination are there as well. I'm assuming most if not all the vessels will come from Hydra herself, but I'm also assuming that you'll send the fastest available courier there with the information."
Weber grinned, more like a wolf now than a fox. "I'll carry the information myself, Captain," he said. "And for your future calculations, I estimate the run from Fonthill to Bolton at nine days maximum, and eight if conditions are favorable. For Hydriote vessels."
"I'll travel with you, Weber," Gambardella said. "There are some matters I should take care of at home."
"And I," said Christianson. The three Hydriotes chuckled.
"Then I believe we've finished our business here," Daniel said, rising to his feet. "Unless you have something to add, Senator?"
"I do not," said Forbes. "Though I suppose a prayer would be proper if I believed in the Gods."
"We'll see you on Fonthill, then, good sir and ladies," Captain Gambardella said, bowing. "No doubt you'll arrive long before we do, but we'll keep our schedule."
"We need to make a side trip to US1528," Daniel said, "so I suspect the timing will be similar for both of us."
Weber frowned. "US1528?" he said. "If you need to take on reaction mass, Captain, why not do so here?"
He didn't, Adele noticed, mention that US1528 was an Alliance refueling station.
Daniel laughed. "As you have matters to deal with on Hydra, so the needs of the RCN are varied, fellow spacers. I look forward to our next meeting."
He turned. As Adele poised to follow him, Captain Christianson said, "Ah, Lady Mundy? If I may ask, you appeared to like the macaca worms?"
Adele shrugged as she put away her data unit. "The gravy was good," she said. "I found the worms themselves tasteless, which—"
She smiled. Christianson didn't react, but Weber straightened and his face went blank.
"—is better than some of the things I ate during the years I lived on very little money. I prefer their texture to that of hog tripes, at any rate."
As they walked back to Tovera and their vehicle, Adele leaned to speak past Daniel. "I share your doubt about the Gods, Senator," she said. "But regardless, there's a closer power at present. I've found putting my faith in the RCN to be quite efficacious."
CHAPTER 13
En route to US1528
"Your Master Cazelet tells me that the Matrix from a masthead is the most spectacular thing I'll ever see," Forbes said. "But Lady Mundy doesn't seem as convinced. Which of them is right, Leary?"
"I'm in agreement with Cazelet," Daniel said. "I suspect that if it were possible to display imagery of the Matrix on Officer Mundy's data unit, she'd be more impressed with it."
While he pulled on the stiff sections of his rigging suit, Tovera was dressing the senator in an air suit. Daniel would have been happier if the senator were wearing a hard suit also, but the gear really was impossibly clumsy until you got used to it.
Mind, he'd have been happier still if Forbes hadn't decided to take a jaunt on the hull. Rene Cazelet was right in his enthusiasm, but it wouldn't be his responsibility if the senator managed to kill herself by ripping her air suit wider than Daniel could fix with one of the emergency patches he was carrying on his equipment belt.
He grinned faintly. Adele had never managed to get used to a hard suit either. The chance that she'd awkwardly tear her suit on a sharp corner was less of a concern than that a rigging suit would make her stumble and she'd drift off into the Matrix as a miniature universe. Besides that, she'd gotten scrapes and bruises from the inside every time she'd worn a hard suit. Adele's comfort wasn't as high a priority to the RCN as her safety—neither was important to Officer Mundy herself—but when there wasn't an obvious improvement in safety, comfort had to count for something.
The same was true of Senator Forbes, Daniel supposed, though despite her being a former minister he doubted that anybody would be terribly upset if she had a fatal accident now that the embassy to Headman Hieronymos had failed. Forbes had a sharp mind, however, and when pushed didn't hesitate to do what she'd decided was necessary. Daniel had served under RCN officers who lacked both those virtues.
"Will I be able to see this Alliance base from out there?" Forbes said. "I've heard that distances aren't the same when we're in space as they are on the ground."
"Not yet," said Tovera as she stepped behind Forbes to lift the torso of the air suit. "Now, Your Excellency. Put your right hand into the hole first."
"Distances—constants of space and time—in the universes through which we travel in the Matrix do differ from ours, Your Excellency," Daniel said. He'd had to blank his face to avoid staring in disbelief at such a, well, ignorant question. "But not so that we'll be able to see US1528. We won't do that until we extract into sidereal space after another two days sailing."
Twenty feet down the corridor, Hogg was chatting with the senator's bedmate DeNardo. The fellow had a equable temper and had proven willing to lend spacers a hand when his considerable muscles would be helpful. Obviously Forbes trusted him, though she probably wasn't one to indulge in pillow talk.
Daniel wanted DeNardo at a distance because he wasn't very bright. While he wouldn't consciously betray the senator, it wouldn't take a skilled interrogator to lead DeNardo to repeat any discussion he remembered. Hogg could keep him occupied; Tovera could help the senator on with her suit—what was true for DeNardo was true in spades for spacers given a chance to impress their messmates; and Daniel could chat with Forbes without concern that anyone else would hear about their discussions.
"Captain Leary?" said Tovera obsequiously. "Are you ready for me to close down Her Excellency's helmet?"
"Yes," said Daniel. He l
ocked down his own face-plate, then patted his belt to make sure the brass communication wand was in the tooled leather scabbard which the craftsmen of Bantry had sewn for it unasked. Wearing a hard suit he could only look down by bending at the waist, which wasn't a useful way to determine what you were wearing on a waist belt.
He smiled, gestured the senator ahead of him into the cruiser's forward dorsal airlock, and set the inner valve to close behind them as he followed her.
The Milton had eight locks instead of the Sissie's four, and each chamber was big enough to hold sixteen riggers—or twenty, if they were good friends. It felt oddly wrong to Daniel that he shared such a volume with only one other person.
He grinned at the thought. He grinned at most things. On average, Adele and I smile the usual number of times in a day. That thought made him grin more broadly.
