The Iron Maiden

by Piers Anthony

  “But with potentially astronomic rewards.”

  “True. But at the moment, it is a strain on Saturn’s resources. That is why we hope to enlist the participation of others.”

  “Such as Rising Sun,” the Shogun said, “that just happens to have a highly developed industrial base.” He did not bother to conceal his keen interest.

  “This is true.”

  “In fact, you seek investors.”

  “That might be another way of putting it.”

  “What might Saturn offer, in return for such investment?” The Shogun was of course nobody’s patsy.

  “Raw iron,” Hope said.

  The Shogun nodded. “I believe it could be possible to deal.” Spirit kept a straight face. Of course it was possible! There was hardly anything Titan needed more than iron, in quantity. This could solve its problem. “But I regret to say that a certain distrust that has existed historically may not be abated immediately.”

  He was understating the case. The antagonism between Saturn and Titan had been long and bitter. “If there is any way to facilitate understanding and acceptance—”

  “There is one whose continued presence would serve to abate skepticism here.” He glanced meaningfully at Hope.

  Hope was taken aback. “I had it in mind to meet with you, then return—”

  “To the hospitality of the nomenklatura?”

  He had a point. Titan was certainly safer for Hope, and there was indeed a job he could do here, facilitating the organization of the new base.

  Hope glanced at Spirit. She nodded. “I would be very pleased to accept your hospitality, if Saturn concurs,” he said. “In the interest of forwarding the Dream.”

  “This may be a dream we shall be pleased to share.”

  They raised their hands in the gesture of understanding.

  The limited treaty between the USR and Rising Sun was considered a diplomatic coup. Shipments of iron ore moved to Titan, and a base was constructed on that planet at a near-record pace, while technicians studied the details of the breakthrough process. Hope interviewed the Rising Sun personnel, weeding out the unfit in his fashion; Saturn retained veto power in this respect, and he was serving Saturn’s interest. It was a type of thing he was good at, but since he did not speak Japanese he required Forta’s assistance. She translated, using her special equipment, while he judged the technicians’ reactions, and it worked well enough. Thus he was making himself useful while also serving the broader purpose of reassuring the Rising Sun public by his presence.

  Then when Spirit and Forta were seeing to business on the base, Tasha produced her handcuffs and they went at it. This was foolish of him, but he thought he had taken sufficient precautions. He cuffed her arms and legs to the bed and enjoyed her—but when she changed personalities, the anchorages gave way and suddenly she clamped his body in a tight scissors grip, and hauled his head down. Fortunately Smilo broke out of his cage and chomped her shoulder, rescuing Hope. That was the end of Tasha; she survived, but defected to Titan. In the question of the lady or the tiger, the tiger had won. Spirit was relieved.

  Hope was left with Forta, and as time passed he gradually warmed to her. She was a good and competent woman, and available whenever he should choose.

  In about two and a half years, the first new ship fitted with the interstellar process was ready for a test flight. They had been working hard to coordinate it, and production had gone well. But would it work outside the laboratory?

  Thus it was that Spirit, Forta, Smilo and Hope were conveyed by shuttleship to the orbiting test ship, and given possession. It was small, intended for a crew of three and a passenger load of four, but Smilo’s mass qualified him to be all four passengers. This was a public event; the newsships of all the major planets and many minor ones were present. That was why they were testing it personally: to show their confidence in the system, and to make it as much of a media event as was possible.

  “Yes, it is a three-light-hour test flight,” Hope said, in answer to a query from a reporter on the screen. “From the orbit of Saturn, here, to the orbit of Uranus. We shall be transformed to light, and will then proceed at light speed in the direction the transmitter is aimed, until we are intercepted by the receiver tube at the other end. Three hours to Uranus!”

  They knew the System audience would be properly impressed; that trip would ordinarily take three months, by standard travel. In fact, they would arrive there at the same time as the news of their departure did.

  “But suppose the alignment is off, and you miss the receiver tube?” the reporter asked.

  “Then we go to another star,” Hope replied, smiling. It was a joke, but a grim one; that was exactly what would happen. But there would be no receiving tube deep in the galaxy, so they would travel forever, if the computers did not precisely align transmitter and receiver.

  Then it went wrong.

  An anonymous ship appeared, and fired a cluster of missiles at them. The Saturn battleship protecting them fired back, lasering the missiles. But they fragmented into larger clusters consisting of a few genuine missiles and thousands of decoys that looked just like the missiles. It was impossible to take them all out before they reached the test ship.

  Then a new alarm sounded. “Sub alert! Sub alert!”

  Spirit whistled. “The nomens are really after us this time!” she said. “They sneaked a sub in under cover of the missile action.”

  “And we know its target,” Hope agreed. “Hang on; I’m taking evasive action.”

  He spoke figuratively, for they were already strapped in. But it was rough on Smilo, who didn’t understand about erratic space maneuvers; his body was thrown back and forth. That couldn’t be helped.

  The battleship took out the first torpedo, but the sub would simply fire another. They were in real trouble.

  “Go for the transmitter!” Spirit said. This was hardly the first time she had faced the prospect of violent death, but Fortuna seemed frightened. She had reason.

  Hope caught on instantly; he had always been good under fire. He went for the transmitter, which they had been approaching anyway. Its personnel, cognizant of the situation, would be ready; they would activate it the moment the ship entered it.

  The ship plunged into the tube—and out the other side.

  “Oh, no!” Spirit breathed. “They didn’t transmit us!”

  “Look at the environment!” Hope exclaimed. “The light ambiance is only a quarter what it was. This is Uranus orbit!”

  “But we didn’t take any three hours!” Forta protested.

  “We took it,” he explained. “We simply weren’t aware of it. There is no time at light speed, as far as we’re concerned; it’s like being in suspended animation.”

  It had worked! Man could now travel to the stars, with no more apparent time lapse than they had experienced. Mankind could colonize the galaxy!

  Now they saw the escort ships of the Uranus nations arriving. They were definitely there.

  Uranus was more politically fragmented than was Jupiter or Saturn. It equated to the ancient Europe, and had many languages and cultures, and a turbulent history. A ship bearing the markings of Helvetia, or New Switzerland, came to provide hospitality. But Forta demurred. “I smell a rat.”

  Hope glanced at her. “You don’t like Helvetia?”

  “I like it well; I have been here before. But Helvetia has no ships of that class in its Navy.’

  “Why not?” he asked. “Historically, on Earth, the region was landbound, but there is no such thing in the System. Helvetia can have any navy it can finance—and it is a rich little nation.”

  “Isn’t that a cruiser?” she persisted. “A ship of war?”

  “She’s got a point, Hope,” Spirit said. “Why should a peaceful nation support a war vessel?”

  “They don’t support any warships,” Forta said. “It’s policy, not finance. That ship can’t be theirs.”

  “We can verify its credentials in a moment,” Hope said,
reaching for the communications panel.

  Spirit’s hand intercepted his. “If that ship is a ringer, it will blast us out of space the moment we try to verify it. Our assassins are fanatics.” Forta nodded; she had seen some of those attempts.

  “But if we don’t go with it, it will realize that we know,” Hope said.

  “The tube,” Forta said tightly. “Will it—?”

  “Titan personnel operate that tube,” Hope said. “Let’s see how smart they are.” He spoke casually, but they all knew that they were in trouble.

  He touched the communications panel. “Glad to see you, Helvetia,” he said, addressing the cruiser. “Bear with me a moment; I want to fetch something at the tube.” He cut the drive, going into free-fall, turned the ship about, and accelerated back toward the tube.

  The cruiser did not reply. It simply matched their velocity again, performing a similar maneuver and accelerating to compensate for their change. It was not about to let them get away.

  The ship headed straight toward the tube. “Minor matter,” Hope transmitted to the tube personnel. “You know what I want.”

  There was a pause. Then the Rising Sun technician came on the screen. “As you wish, Tyrant,” he said politely.

  “You’re going back?” Forta asked. “Suppose it follows?”

  “We are gambling on the savvy of the Titans,” Spirit said tightly.

  “But they can’t stop the cruiser from following us!”

  “We’ll see,” Spirit said. But her mouth was going dry. Did the Titans understand?

  By the time they entered the tube, the cruiser was almost on their tail. They shot through, and out the other side. The cruiser entered right behind, barely squeezing in, and disappeared.

  They experienced an abrupt jolt, as though a star had just gone nova behind them. The ship’s tail section heated and melted, and the drive cut out. They were boosted forward, but were dead in space. Smilo took another bad fall.

  But ships were constructed for exactly this type of acceleration. Their drive was gone, but the hull was intact and cabin power remained on. They had survived.

  “What was that?” Forta asked. Her bun of hair had come apart, and she looked disheveled.

  “We may have been struck by a laser,” Hope said, “or the equivalent.”

  “Oh—they fired at us!”

  “Perhaps,” Spirit agreed.

  “Where are we?” Forta asked nervously.

  “Right where we were,” Hope said, checking out the equipment to ascertain whether they retained communication.

  “The tube did not activate, for us.”

  “Then where is the other ship?”

  He smiled grimly. “That may be difficult to determine. You see, the tube did activate for it.”

  “You mean it’s a light beam, on its way to Saturn?”

  “It’s a light beam,” he agreed. Spirit caught his eye, and he said no more.

  “So it was transmitted while we were not,” Forta said. “But how—”

  “The Rising Sun personnel understood our wish,” Spirit told her. “Our wish was to be free of pursuit.”

  “How clever!” Forta said doubtfully.

  The face of the Rising Sun technician came on the screen. “Are you satisfied, Tyrant?” he inquired.

  “Quite,” Hope agreed. “Shall we agree that this matter is finished?”

  “Agreed, sir,” the tech said.

  “We appear to have suffered some damage,” Hope continued. “Possibly from a laser attack. Please request assistance for us.”

  “A laser,” the tech agreed. “We shall see to it, sir.” He clicked out.

  “Damn good personnel,” Spirit murmured.

  Rising Sun was forbidden by treaty to produce weapons of war. The light-projection project was considered to be technology of peace, but it had certain difficult philosophical aspects. If a ship was transmitted to another tube, this was a peaceful operation. But suppose a ship was transmitted—and there was no receiving tube? Or the beam of light was deflected on the way? Then there would be no reconversion, and that ship would probably never manifest in solid state again. When that happened, was the tube a weapon instead of a tool?

  The Rising Sun personnel had understood. They had let the first ship pass through untransmitted. They had activated the system for the following ship, so that it became light and beamed forward at light speed. The first vessel had blocked its forward path. When it became light, it had struck the physical ship ahead.

  That ship was dead. Spirit and Hope knew it, and the personnel of the transmission tube knew it. Forta didn’t know it, and perhaps it would be some time before the rest of the System caught on. The tube had just been used as a weapon. Did that put Rising Sun in violation of its treaty? It was a temporary conspiracy of silence.

  This had been more of a demonstration than they had planned on—but a most effective one. Soon they visited Helvetia, after verifying that the cruiser had indeed not been from that nation. They were given excellent lodging, and Hope proceeded with a months-long process of visiting Uranian heads of state, to enlist their support for Saturn’s Dream. He was largely successful; it was his genius to persuade people, and the Dream was well worth supporting. But between-times he became restive. He needed a woman.

  “It is time for you to take over,” Spirit told Forta.

  “I am sure he will come to me, when he chooses.”

  “No. I know my brother. He lives for women, but he does not pursue them. They must pursue him.”

  “This is not my way.”

  “Therefore the purpose for which you came has been unfulfilled for two years. Take the initiative, woman.”

  “But–”

  “I will depart on an errand. You will become Juana and approach him.”

  “But Juana is a grandmother.”

  “Juana at age seventeen. You can do that?”

  “Certainly. But–”

  “Do it. I will return in two hours.”

  “If you are sure–”

  “Do it,” Spirit repeated firmly, and departed. She wished she could watch what happened during her absence, but this was not feasible. So she busied herself with inconsequentials, and returned in exactly two hours.

  Forta, as young buxom Juana, was sitting on Hope’s lap. His head was against her bosom, and her arms were around him. He appeared to be asleep, his face serene.

  Spirit nodded and went to her room. The ice had been broken, and Hope had taken Forta as his woman. Not sexually yet, for both were fully clothed, but the acceptance was manifest. That was what counted.

  Forta was soon to have another use. The president of Gaul was an old-line warrior whose mind was firmly set. He was not about to be moved by Saturn’s new-fangled project, and Gaul would not join without the General’s approval. They had to find a way to persuade him.

  “I seem to remember that there was one he listened to,” Spirit said.

  “His daughter,” Forta said, having done her research. “But she died five years ago, and after that he stopped caring about any opinion but his own. There is no ameliorating personality around him now.”

  “His daughter,” Spirit said musingly. She glanced at Hope. “They to tend to wrap their fathers around their fingers.” Exactly as Hopie did with Hope—and how could Spirit object? The two had an amazing amount in common.

  “I could study her,” Forta said, speaking of the General’s daughter.

  Spirit nodded. “If you are willing.”

  “Megan knew of the Dream,” Forta said. “She felt I could help in its realization. I see no ethical problem here, especially considering the alternative.”

  Hope finally got an interview with the General, and because of the man’s attitude about newfangled technology, it was an actual physical meeting, not a holo replication. It was a formality; the General had already made up his mind not to participate in the Dream.

  But they had prepared for this. Hope gave Spirit to understand his negative reading,
by the slightest nod: thumbs down. She in turn made an unobtrusive signal to Forta, the secretary, who stood at the edge of the room.

  Forta turned around a moment, as if suffering an attack of vertigo. She was doing something to herself. Then she turned again, her aspect changed.

  The General paused, glancing at her, startled. He got to his feet. Spirit knew that he was seeing a vision of his daughter. Hope read the signals consciously; others did so unconsciously, but they were as persuasive.