Space Viking

by H. Beam Piper

  XXI

  Prince Bentrik's ten-year-old son, Count Steven of Ravary, wore theuniform of an ensign of the Royal Navy; he was accompanied by histutor, an elderly Navy captain. They both stopped in the doorwayof Trask's suite, and the boy saluted smartly.

  "Permission to come aboard, sir?" he asked.

  "Welcome aboard, count; captain. Belay the ceremony and find seats;you're just in time for second breakfast."

  As they sat down, he aimed his ultraviolet light-pencil at a servingrobot. Unlike Mardukan robots, which looked like surrealistconceptions of Pre-Atomic armored knights, it was a smooth ovoidfloating a few inches from the floor on its own contragravity; as itapproached, its top opened like a bursting beetle shell and hingedtrays of food swung out. The boy looked at it in fascination.

  "Is that a Sword-World robot, sir, or did you capture it somewhere?"

  "It's one of our own." He was pardonably proud; it had been built onTanith a year before. "Has an ultrasonic dishwasher underneath, andit does some cooking on top, at the back."

  The elderly captain was, if anything, even more impressed than hisyoung charge. He knew what went into it, and he had some conceptionof the society that would develop things like that.

  "I take it you don't use many human servants, with robots likethat," he said.

  "Not many. We're all low-population planets, and nobody wants tobe a servant."

  "We have too many people on Marduk, and all of them want soft jobsas nobles' servants," the captain said. "Those that want any kindof jobs."

  "You need all your people for fighting men, don't you?" the boycount asked.

  "Well, we need a good many. The smallest of our ships will carryfive hundred men; most of them around eight hundred."

  The captain lifted an eyebrow. The complement of the _Victrix_ hadbeen three hundred, and she'd been a big ship. Then he nodded.

  "Of course. Most of them are ground-fighters."

  That started Count Steven off. Questions, about battles and raidsand booty and the planets Trask had seen.

  "I wish I were a Space Viking!"

  "Well, you can't be, Count Ravary. You're an officer of the RoyalNavy. You're supposed to fight Space Vikings."

  "I won't fight you."

  "You'd have to, if the King commanded," the old captain told him.

  "No. Prince Trask is my friend. He saved my father's life."

  "And I won't fight you, either, count. We'll make a lot offireworks, and then we'll each go home and claim victory. How wouldthat be?"

  "I've heard of things like that," the captain said. "We had a warwith Odin, seventy years ago, that was mostly that sort of battles."

  "Besides, the King is Prince Trask's friend, too," the boy insisted."Father and Mummy heard him say so, right on the Throne. Kings don'tlie when they're on the Throne, do they?"

  "Good Kings don't," Trask told him.

  "Ours is a good King," the young Count of Ravary declared proudly."I would do anything my King commanded. Except fight Prince Trask.My house owes Prince Trask a debt."

  Trask nodded approvingly. "That's the way a Sword-World noble wouldtalk, Count Steven," he said.

  * * * * *

  The Board of Inquiry, that afternoon, was more like a small and verysedate cocktail party. An Admiral Shefter, who seemed to be veryhigh high-brass, presided while carefully avoiding the appearanceof doing so. Alvyn Karffard and Vann Larch and Paytrik Morland werethere from the _Nemesis_, and Bentrik and several of the officersfrom the _Victrix_, and there were a couple of Naval Intelligenceofficers, and somebody from Operational Planning, and from ShipConstruction and Research & Development. They chatted pleasantlyand in a deceptively random manner for a while. Then Shefter said:

  "Well, there's no blame or censure of any sort for the way CommodorePrince Bentrik was surprised. That couldn't have been avoided, atthe time." He looked at the Research & Development officer. "Itshouldn't be allowed to happen many more times, though."

  "Not many more, sir. I'd say it'll take my people a month, and thenthe time it'll take to get all the ships equipped as they come in."

  Ship Construction didn't think that would take too long.

  "We'll see to it that you get full information on the new submarinedetection system, Prince Trask," the admiral said.

  "You gentlemen understand you'll have to keep it under your helmets,though," one of the Intelligence men added. "If it got out that wewere informing Space Vikings about our technical secrets...." Hefelt the back of his neck in a way that made Trask suspect thatbeheadment was the customary form of execution on Marduk.

  "We'll have to find out where the fellow has his base," OperationalPlanning said. "I take it, Prince Trask, that you're not going toassume that he was on his flagship when you blew it, and just putpaid to him and forget him?"

  "Oh, no. I'm assuming that he wasn't. I don't believe he and Ormmwent anywhere on the same ship, after he came out here andestablished a base. I think one of them would stay home all thetime."

  "Well, we'll give you everything we have on them," Shefter promised."Most of that is classified and you'll have to keep quiet about it,too. I just skimmed over the summary of what you gave us; I daresaywe'll both get a lot of new information. Have you any idea at allwhere he might be based, Prince Trask?"

  "Only that we think it's a non-Terra-type planet." He told themabout Dunnan's heavy purchases of air-and-water recycling equipmentand carniculture and hydroponic material. "That, of course, helps agreat deal."

  "Yes; there are only about five million planets in the formerFederation space-volume that are inhabitable in artificialenvironment. Including a few completely covered by seas, where youcould put in underwater dome cities if you had the time andmaterial."

  One of the Intelligence officers had been nursing a glass with atiny remnant of cocktail in it. He downed it suddenly, filled theglass again, and glowered at it in silence for a while. Then hedrank it briskly and refilled it.

  "What I should like to know," he said, "is how this double obscenityof a Dunnan knew we'd have a ship on Audhumla just when we did," hesaid. "Your talking about underwater dome-cities reminded me of it.I don't think he just pulled that planet out of a hat and then wentthere prepared to sit on the bottom of the ocean for a year and ahalf waiting for something to turn up. I think he knew the_Victrix_ was coming to Audhumla, and just about when."

  "I don't like that, commodore," Shefter said.

  "You think I do, sir?" the Intelligence officer countered. "There itis, though. We all have to face it."

  "We do," Shefter agreed. "Get on it, commodore, and I don't need tocaution you to screen everybody you put onto it very carefully." Helooked at his own glass; it had a bare thimbleful in the bottom. Hereplenished it slowly and carefully. "It's been a long time sincethe Navy's had anything like this to worry about." He turned toTrask. "I suppose I can get in touch with you at the Palace wheneverI must?"

  "Well, Prince Trask and I have been invited as house-guests atPrince Edvard's, I mean Baron Cragdale's, hunting lodge," Bentriksaid. "We'll be going there directly from here."

  "Ah." Admiral Shefter smiled slightly. Beside not having three hornsand a spiked tail, this Space Viking was definitely _persona grata_with the Royal Family. "Well, we'll keep in contact, Prince Trask."

  * * * * *

  The hunting lodge where Crown Prince Edvard was simple BaronCragdale lay at the head of a sharply-sloping mountain valley downwhich a river tumbled. Mountains rose on either side in high scarps,some topped with perpetual snow, glaciers curling down from them.The lower ranges were forested, as was the valley between, and therewas a red-mauve alpenglow on the great peak that rose from the headof the valley. For the first time in over a year, Elaine was withhim, silently clinging to him to see the beauty of it through hiseyes. He had thought that she had gone from him forever.

  The hunting lodge itself was not quite what a Sword-Worlder wouldexpect a hunting lodge to be. At fi
rst sight, from the air, itlooked like a sundial, a slender tower rising like a gnomen above acircle of low buildings and formal gardens. The boat landed at thefoot of it, and he and Prince and Princess Bentrik and the youngCount of Ravary and his tutor descended. Immediately, they werebeset by a flurry of servants; the second boat, with the Bentrikservants and their luggage was circling in to land. Elaine, hediscovered, wasn't with him any more, and then he was separated fromthe Bentriks and was being floated up an inside shaft in alifter-car. More servants installed him in his rooms, unpacked hiscases, drew his bath and even tried to help him take it, and fussedover him while he dressed.

  There were over a score for dinner. Bentrik had warned him that he'dfind some odd types; maybe he meant that they wouldn't all benobles. Among the commoners there were some professors, mostlysocial sciences, a labor leader, a couple of Representatives and amember of the Chamber of Delegates, and a couple of social workers,whatever that meant.

  His own table companion was a Lady Valerie Alvarath. She wasbeautiful--black hair, and almost startlingly blue eyes, acombination unusual in the Sword-Worlds--and she was intelligent,or at least cleverly articulate. She was introduced as thelady-companion of the Crown Prince's daughter. When he askedwhere the daughter was, she laughed.

  "She won't be helping entertain visiting Space Vikings for a longtime, Prince Trask. She is precisely eight years old; I saw hergetting ready for bed before I came down here. I'll look in on herafter dinner."

  Then the Crown Princess Melanie, on his other hand, asked him somequestion about Sword-World court etiquette. He stuck togeneralities, and what he could remember from a presentation at thecourt of Excalibur during his student days. These people had amonarchy since before Gram had been colonized; he wasn't going toadmit that Gram's had been established since he went off-planet.The table was small enough for everybody to hear what he was sayingand to feed questions to him. It lasted all through the meal, andcontinued when they adjourned for coffee in the library.

  "But what about your form of government, your social structure,that sort of thing?" somebody, impatient with the artificialitiesof the court, wanted to know.

  "Well, we don't use the word government very much," he replied. "Wetalk a lot about authority and sovereignty, and I'm afraid we burnentirely too much powder over it, but government always seems to uslike sovereignty interfering in matters that don't concern it. Aslong as sovereignty maintains a reasonable semblance of good publicorder and makes the more serious forms of crime fairly hazardous forthe criminals, we're satisfied."

  "But that's just negative. Doesn't the government do anythingpositive for the people?"

  He tried to explain the Sword-World feudal system to them. It washard, he found, to explain something you have taken for granted allyour life to somebody who is quite unfamiliar with it.

  * * * * *

  "But the government--the sovereignty, since you don't like the otherword--doesn't do anything for the people!" one of the professorsobjected. "It leaves all the social services to the whim of theindividual lord or baron."

  "And the people have no voice at all; why, that's tyranny,"a professor Assemblyman added.

  He tried to explain that the people had a very distinct andcommanding voice, and that barons and lords who wanted to stayalive listened attentively to it. The Assemblyman changed his mind;that wasn't tyranny, it was anarchy. And the professor was stillinsistent about who performed the social services.

  "If you mean schools and hospitals and keeping the city clean, thepeople do that for themselves. The government, if you want to thinkof it as that, just sees to it that nobody's shooting at them whilethey're doing it."

  "That isn't what Professor Pullwell means, Lucas. He means old-agepensions," Prince Bentrik said. "Like this thing Zaspar Makann'swhooping for."

  He'd heard about that, on the voyage from Audhumla. Every person onMarduk would be retired on an adequate pension after thirty yearsregular employment or at the age of sixty. When he had wanted toknow where the money would come from, he had been told that therewould be a sales tax, and that the pensions must all be spent withinthirty days, which would stimulate business, and the increasedbusiness would provide tax money to pay the pensions.

  "We have a joke about three Gilgameshers space-wrecked on anuninhabited planet," he said. "Ten years later, when they wererescued, all three were immensely wealthy, from trading hats witheach other. That's about the way this thing will work."

  One of the lady social workers bristled; it wasn't right to makederogatory jokes about racial groups. One of the professorsharrumphed; wasn't a parallel at all, the Self-Sustaining RotaryPension Plan was perfectly feasible. With a shock, Trask recalledthat he was a professor of economics.

  Alvyn Karffard wouldn't need any twenty ships to loot Marduk. Justinfiltrate it with about a hundred smart confidence men and insidea year they'd own everything on it.

  That started them all off on Zaspar Makann, though. Some of themthought he had a few good ideas, but was damaging his own case byextremism. One of the wealthier nobles said that he was a reproachto the ruling class; it was their fault that people like Makanncould gain a following. One old gentleman said that maybe theGilgameshers were to blame, themselves, for some of the animositytoward them. He was immediately set upon by all the others andverbally torn to pieces on the spot.

  Trask didn't feel it proper to quote Goodman Mikhyl to this crowd.He took the responsibility upon himself for saying:

  "From what I've heard of him, I think he's the most serious threatto civilized society on Marduk."

  They didn't call him crazy, after all he was a guest, but theydidn't ask him what he meant, either. They merely told him thatMakann was a crackpot with a contemptible following of half-wits,and just wait till the election and see what happened.

  "I'm inclined to agree with Prince Trask," Bentrik said soberly."And I'm afraid the election results will be a shock to us, not toMakann."

  He hadn't talked that way on the ship. Maybe he'd been lookingaround and doing some thinking, since he got back. He might havebeen talking to Goodman Mikhyl, too. There was a screen in the room.He nodded toward it.

  "He's speaking at a rally of the People's Welfare Party at Drepplin,now," he said. "May I put it on, to show you what I mean?"

  When the Crown Prince assented, he snapped on the screen andtwiddled at the selector.

  * * * * *

  A face looked out of it. The features weren't Andray Dunnan's--themouth was wider, the cheekbones broader, the chin more rounded. Buthis eyes were Dunnan's, as Trask had seen them on the terrace ofKarvall House. Mad eyes. His high-pitched voice screamed:

  "Our beloved sovereign is a prisoner! He is surrounded by traitors!The Ministries are full of them! They are all traitors! Thebloodthirsty reactionaries of the falsely so-called Crown LoyalistParty! The grasping conspiracy of the interstellar bankers! Thedirty Gilgameshers! They are all leagued together in an unholyconspiracy! And now this Space Viking, this bloody-handed monsterfrom the Sword-Worlds...."

  "Shut the horrible man off," somebody was yelling, in competitionwith the hypnotic scream of the speaker.

  The trouble was, they couldn't. They could turn off the screen, butZaspar Makann would go on screaming, and millions all over theplanet would still hear him. Bentrik twiddled the selector. Thevoice stuttered briefly, and then came echoing out of the speaker,but this time the pickup was somewhere several hundred feet abovea great open park. It was densely packed with people, most of themwearing clothes a farm tramp on Gram wouldn't be found dead in,but here and there among them were blocks of men in what wasalmost but not quite military uniform, each with a short and thickswagger-stick with a knobbed head. Across the park, in the distance,the head and shoulders of Zaspar Makann loomed a hundred feet highin a huge screen. Whenever he stopped for breath, a shout would goup, beginning with the blocks of uniformed men:

  "_Makann! Makann! Makann the Leader! Makann to Power!
_"

  "You even let him have a private army?" he asked the Crown Prince.

  "Oh, those silly buffoons and their musical-comedy uniforms,"the Crown Prince shrugged. "They aren't armed."

  "Not visibly," he granted. "Not yet."

  "I don't know where they'd get arms."

  "No, Your Highness," Prince Bentrik said. "Neither do I.That's what I'm worried about."