“Afraid they’ll start the war without you?”
“I’m afraid they’ll get finished with the war without me,” corrected Lucas. “And not in a way I’d like. If I know my people . . . Otto Harkaman is probably chomping at the bit to run off and attack one of the most stoutly-defended civilized worlds in the galaxy with a handful of ships, while my cousin Nick -- he’s the Prime Minister -- is searching for allies back in the Sword Worlds and pushing for a diplomatic solution.
“Which means that they’re both at each other’s throats, and it’s never a good idea when your civil administration is at odds with your military. And poor Valerie’s right there in the middle of it, probably having to choose sides or forestall them both. And trying to raise the baby without me. I’d guess that Harkaman, that’s my admiral, is probably in charge, now, with a few of my other senior nobility, ruling in Valerie’s name.
“That’s assuming that they haven’t all been assassinated, or invaded from the Sword Worlds, or Victor didn’t jus nuke the –” he stopped, realizing that he was saying far more about his thoughts to Max than he’d intended. But there was one final fear he felt obligated to articulate, as a conclusion. “At this point, it’s even possible that some of my senior nobles will move to have me declared dead and persuade Valerie to abdicate in Nick’s favor. She’d be safe, back on Marduk. Safer,” he amended.
“Brother, there ain’t no such thing,” Max sighed. “You might think so, but there’s always something out there that will get you. If it’s not atomic death from the sky, civil insurrection or economic disaster then it’s meteor impact, or native uprising, or some nasty plague. Don’t fool yourself, Luke. She’s just as safe on Tanith as she would be on Marduk. I’m certain,” he said, convincingly.
“You’re probably right,” Lucas conceded. “But I just hope she can keep a handle on the hot-heads in the cabinet. That is, if the whole place hasn’t been made a radioactive slagpile yet. Aton wouldn’t hesitate, I think. Not after our jailbreak.”
“There are almost seven hundred and fifty light-years between Aton and Tanith, and plenty of other stuff for the Atonians to worry about. Luke, they got you already. You’re the one that made them mad. Why would they keep messing with Tanith when you are – or were – a hostage?”
“Because my people don’t deal well with hostage-takers,” explained Lucas. “And I’m concerned that they might do something provocative as a grand, dramatic gesture of their loyalty. Just the kind of thing to get a couple of big three-thousand foot Atonian battleships in orbit. I hope to Ghu that they have enough sense to lay low and not attract any more attention. At least until I get back.”
“Relax, Luke,” the engineer said, encouragingly, as he refilled Lucas’ glass. “You’re in hyperspace. You know what happens when you don’t have a hobby in hyperspace? You go crazy. Seen it happen a billion times. Me, I fix stuff, build Igor, drink too much, and catch up on my reading. The Sifians, they’re down in the gymnasium five hours a day, running through training rituals and doing another two hours of pure calisthenics -- calisthenics as a religious rite, Luke, have you ever heard anything so perverse?”
“It’s hard to argue with the result,” Lucas pointed out. “Did you see how they performed on Ludmilla?”
“I was busy keeping the ship in the sky, remember?”
“They were the best ground crew I’ve ever seen in a raid,” Lucas admitted. “Twenty of them got more done in better order than a company of Sword Worlders. When they went into the pearl depository, they had it completely secured and utterly stripped in two hours -- and there were a lot of pearls in there! When I ordered them to attack the civilian constabulary post that was defending the town, and they sent in two privates -- two! – with carbines and pistols. There were over twenty-five defenders in that redoubt, Max. And the Colonel sent two. They came back without a scratch, like they did that sort of thing every day.”
“Have you seen them in unarmed combat?” Max asked. “I had corporal Otega guarding me while those Ludmillians were loading up what little plutonium they had. One of them decides to take a swipe at me -- nothing I can’t handle,” he assured Lucas, as he tossed back his drink. “But this son-of-a-khoograh tries to whack me with a wrench -- and suddenly all five of them are on the ground, moaning quietly, and Otega is handing me back the wrench. Astonishing.”
“I think I’m going to start training with them,” Lucas resolved. “With as little crew as we have for such a lot of ship, we’re all going to have to wear several hats for the duration. Which means I’m probably going to end up going into combat -- and to be honest, Planet X didn’t really inspire me to exercise much.”
“Solid reasoning, Luke,” agreed Max. “You just go and sweat yourself stupid.”
“You know,” Lucas said, seriously, “you could stand to learn a thing or two about combat, yourself.”
“Me?” Max asked, scandalized. “I’m an idea man, Luke. I’ll leave the thuggery to brawny types like yourself. Besides, I can defend myself,” he reminded him, holding up a little silver cylinder. “Remember the first time we met? Just because I don’t look like I was carved out of basalt by God’s favorite sculptor doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. We little guys are sneaky,” he confided.
“Well, at least tell me you can shoot,” Lucas said, hesitantly.
“Luke, I don’t plan to leave this ship, if I can help it, until we’re someplace civilized again. But yes, I can shoot pretty decently. I’ve got a pistol around here somewhere.”
“Good. We’ve got to keep you safe -- you’re my ticket back home. I don’t think anyone else in Federation space could have gotten the ship resurrected the way you did.”
“Well, consider that even if I could have gotten in on my own -- which I still say I would have done, eventually -- and gotten her running, there’s no way I could have flown her away on my own. You came with a well-trained crew, at least most of one, and you’ve got the rest of the prisoners as well-organized as you could ask.
“But I’m not the only essential man here, Luke. If it wasn’t for you, none of these idiots could have kept this ship running. Oh, they’re good folk, but prone to argue more than is good for them. You keep them in line and actually get them working like a crew -- that’s an undeniable miracle, right there. But then to inspire the loyalty of the Sifians? And the monks? And the spies? And I even think the Travelers are starting to like you. That’s telling. They don’t usually like anyone who isn’t a blood relative. You take Lucas Trask out of the equation, and the whole thing falls apart and no one goes home.”
“I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but we still face a lot of hurdles before we’re free. There’s still the matter of finding enough plutonium to get to the next destination. And food. What we took on at Ludmilla won’t last long, and it will be a thousand hours before the pitiful little hydroponics garden is producing.”
“Details, details,” Max dismissed. “Say, I’m about done here -- I can barely see straight, I’m so tired -- but I’m too tired to sleep. Let’s go find a better bottle of booze and get obliterated.”
“I’ll have one more,” Lucas decided. “Then I’m done for the night. Delio has watch until six hundred. And if I recall correctly, the Sifians will start their pre-dawn training right about then.”
As they were making their way up to the lounge, they encountered a small knot of the Atonian prisoners, a half-dozen of them, including the Nuitian High Lama and one of the political dissidents. He thought they were just passing by, until they stopped him.
“Prince Lucas,” the smooth-talking opposition leader said, lightly. “We were wondering if we might trouble you for a moment.”
Lucas stifled a sigh. “I’m unoccupied. What do you need?”
“I’m Professor Erskyll, if you didn’t catch it before. I was a lawyer on Aton until I got involved in politics and landed in prison. Well, some of us were talking,” he said -- which immediately made Lucas wary -- “and while we certa
inly appreciate your timely rescue from Planet X, we heard that you were planning to attack Kumarbi, as well, when we get there.”
Lucas blinked. “Well, yes, that was my plan.”
“Well, we were talking,” Erskyll continued, “and while shooting up the prison was one thing, it occurs to us that Kumarbi is not, in fact, an Atonian dependency or colony world.”
“I’m unaware of their local politics,” Lucas admitted, stiffly.
“Exactly. And that being the case, a lot of us don’t feel right about you making war on a peaceful planet.”
“You don’t,” Lucas said, unsure if he had heard properly.
“No, we don’t,” the man assured. “We took a vote, and the consensus is that we should trade for what we need at Kumarbi, not simply take it. It’s uncivilized.”
“Actually,” countered Max, before Lucas could respond, “it’s quite civilized. If you folks had been taking a look at what your so-called ‘civilized’ worlds have done on worlds like that, well, it makes a Space Viking raid look positively benign.”
“We don’t see it that way,” the man said, stiffly. “There’s no objective beyond pure material gain. We don’t have any beef with the Kumarbi. And I’m sure they’d be willing to trade with us -- I’m sure they’re reasonable people.”
“I see,” Lucas said, nodding, indulgently. “And if they are not?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the man scoffed. “Why wouldn’t they be? We’ve done nothing to them. There’s no reason at all why we should just . . . attack them! And no reason why they wouldn’t trade fairly with us. Subjecting them to threats or loss of life or -- heaven’s forbid! -- nuclear attack, that’s uncalled for under the circumstances. That’s the consensus of opinion, after a fair vote, and we feel you should respect that.” He crossed his arms as he said it, clearly challenging Lucas to argue with him.
“And just what do you propose we trade them for the amount of plutonium we need?” Lucas asked, amused, as he stopped Max from trying to intervene. “From what I understand, they don’t mine it themselves. Which means that their entire store is imported, at dear cost, to supply the very occasional merchant ship that might stop in. They aren’t going to give it up cheaply.”
“Well, surely if we made them a fair offer, they’d take our humanitarian needs into account,” the man dismissed.
Lucas and Max both could not stop themselves from laughing at the man’s naiveté. “Mr. Erskyll, just how many planets have you been on?”
“Why, just Aton, and Planet X,” he said, looking offended. “But I’ve read widely about native cultures--”
“Then you don’t know squat!” Max howled. “Sure, they’ll sell us plutonium -- and the more they know we need it, the higher the price goes. Now, we’ve got a couple of hundred quality pearls we can throw at them, but honestly, even at fair market value that wouldn’t buy what we need. And if they know that, it isn’t going to go well with us.”
“Humanitarianism, Mr. Erskyll,” Lucas said after regaining his composure, “is a privilege for the rich and civilized. It is not the usual philosophy employed on neobarbarian worlds. Quite the contrary. The fact is, there is nothing on this ship that could pay for that plutonium. Except, perhaps, the bounty that Aton would pay them for our heads. Now, if you’re offering to donate your head for the cause, I’d consider it,” he added, wryly. “But since I doubt that you’re quite that dedicated to public service . . .”
“Now see here, sir!” the man said, angrily. “I don’t know where you came from, but in decent societies it behooves those in power to use their--”
“Yes, it was your so-called ‘decent’ society that kidnapped me off the bridge of my own ship, in my own territory, after running me to ground,” Lucas said, suddenly taking an aggressive step towards the man. “Your ‘decent’ society put a price on my head.”
“You cannot blame the actions of the current regime on the people they rule!” Mr. Erskyll responded, angrily. “The Atonian people are decent, hard-working people who have, unfortunately, been misled by a corrupt regime! That doesn’t mean that we abandon the basic principals of humanity the moment they no longer suit us!”
“Mr. Erskyll,” Lucas continued, evenly, “This is a ship of war -- in particular, this is a Space Viking ship. Now I know you don’t have a problem with petty larceny, because I saw how gleefully you looted the shops on Ludmilla.”
“That was mere reparations for our unjust captivity!” he said, testily, his nostrils flaring.
“Regardless, you stole things that didn’t belong to you from people. You all did,” he said, including the others in his statement. Only the monk continued to look serene. The others looked guilty.
“That was a matter of survival!” he insisted. “This--’
“This is also a matter of survival, you idiot,” Max said, derisively. “The people of Kumarbi aren’t going to hand us the plutonium -- or anything else -- and we can’t buy it. Unless you can convince them to fork it over in exchange for a jaunty tune, we’re going to have to take it from them. In a ship fresh out of nukes, with a handful of missiles, and a couple of rounds for the big guns. We are barely in hyperspace and when we get to Kumarbi a single shot could, theoretically, knock us out of the air. You know what happens to a three-thousand foot ship when your Abbots go out while you’re in atmosphere? Let me give you a hint: that happened twenty years ago on Baldur, and you can still see the crater from orbit. Collapsium weighs a lot, Mr. Erskyll.”
“There’s no reason for violence, Lucas,” he insisted, firmly. “Except in self-defense.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Lucas said, trying to restrain his more visceral urges, “but the fact is, Mr. Erskyll, we aren’t in a position to maintain such high ideals. We are escaping prisoners in an antique ship that’s being held together with tape and spit and good intentions. Our only hope of survival is obtaining that plutonium -- and whatever else of value which might prove useful in the days to come.
“Now as a rule, I deplore indiscriminate violence. I’d much rather use the threat of violence to get what I need, but ten years at this bloody trade has taught me that if you aren’t prepared to back up those threats and pull the trigger, then you aren’t going to live to die in bed of old age. Only a fool tries to rob a man with an unloaded gun.”
“I’m sorry, but the consensus is that we do not use force, except as a last resort!” he said, firmly.
“And you voted on this?” Lucas asked, mildly.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“And were my men -- or the Sifians -- included in this vote?”
“They were on duty at the time, but we’d be happy to poll them and get their opinions,” agreed Mr. Erskyll. “It’s only fair.”
“Let me tell you right now that no such polling will occur,” Lucas said. “Let me further tell you that your measure fails, for the lack of one vote – mine. “
“This is not an autocracy, Sir!” Erskyll said, heatedly, as if he was in a formal academic debate. “I know what a sense of entitlement you aristocrats have. Just because you’re some kind of leader on your colony—”
“I beg to differ,” Lucas said, just as firmly. “I am the captain of this vessel, regardless of what other titles I might hold. As such, I am the supreme sovereign of this ship. That law is as old as time. And as such, I will make the command decisions necessary to accomplish the mission -- namely, to get us all back to civilization safely.
“Now I have powerful reasons for doing this, and I don’t care how many votes and caucuses you take, I will enforce my command over this vessel however I have to. On a Sword World ship that sort of talk would get you summarily tossed out an airlock -- but I’m feeling merciful in celebration of our escape. And I’m trying to take your background and circumstances into account, and give you an opportunity to learn from this mistake.
“But let me be absolutely clear, gentlemen: I will run this ship the way I see fit, without the benefit of your consensus. From time to time
I may solicit your advice or counsel, at which time you may offer me your unfettered opinion without fear of retribution. But I, and I alone, command this vessel. And if I need to put you down on Kumarbi after we’re done with it to ensure the safety and security of the ship and the mission -- or simply because you annoy me overmuch -- then you can bet safe money I will not hesitate to do so.”
He surveyed their shocked faces -- only the monk looked undisturbed. The rest had expressions ranging from disgust to shock to open terror.
“I am a Space Viking, gentlemen. This is what I do. I kill people and steal their things. While I am in command, this is a Space Viking ship. If what I do, or ask you to do, conflicts with your high moral code, then take some solace in the fact that I am giving you no other choice. If that means that you have to do some penance for it, fine. If that means you fall asleep every night hating my guts -- well, you join distinguished company then, I have a lot of enemies.
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