Read The Sea Without a Shore Online
Authors: David Drake
The Sea Without a Shore (20 page)
Adele smiled visibly at her audience. She had learned from observation over the past few years to interpret people’s reactions even when she could not in a lifetime imagine why they thought the things they did. There are many kinds of information.
“The Corcyran council did not agree to the terms,” Adele said. “They have allowed us, allowed Captain Leary, to use his own efforts to free the prisoners, however. Remember that though we’re dealing with a single clan rather than all Ischia, it seems probable that the Monfiores’ attitude is shared generally across the planet. Certainly the depression is planetwide.”
Adele cleared her throat and forced herself to look around her audience again. She had become a good—an exceptional—pistol shot through constant practice at the range in the basement of Chatsworth Minor. She doubted that she would ever become a good public speaker, but she had a better appreciation for the value of practice than most people did.
“Are there questions before I move aside for Six?” she said, not really expecting a response.
“Ma’am?” said Cory. “Why haven’t these Monfiores sold their prisoners to Pantellaria, because by now it must be pretty obvious that Corcyra isn’t going to pay the ransom they’re asking.”
“I apologize,” Adele said. “I should have covered that without being reminded. I’m speculating because my information isn’t recent enough to have an answer directly from Pantellarian files, but the background suggests a familiar pattern. Commissioner Arnaud is a member of the Council and probably the most important single member of it.”
She paused to order her presentation.
If my father had come to me, I could have predicted that his coup would fail,
Adele realized. Though at age fifteen, the skills she had since developed working with Daniel Leary might not have been sufficient to the task.
And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because Lucius Mundy would not have believed her, believed
anyone
, saying something which he didn’t want to be true. That common human trait was something else that Adele had learned in the years since the failure of the Three Circles Conspiracy.
“Arnaud has nineteen colleagues, however,” she continued. “While none of them have openly declared themselves Arnaud’s enemy, many”—and perhaps all—“have privately indicated disquiet about Arnaud’s intentions if he should return to Pantellaria after a great military victory. One may reasonably speculate that they would rather that Arnaud fail, though they could not be seen to actively work against him and become traitors in the eyes of the general populace.”
“Ah, Mundy?” Daniel said. They hadn’t discussed the background in detail, because until recently the Pantellarian invasion itself hadn’t been part of their own mission. “Why did Arnaud take the risk of commanding the expedition? Because he must have known that it would be risky simply to be off-planet when his colleagues were unfriendly. Or frightened of him, which is even worse.”
Adele nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. “Again, this is something I hope to learn more about when we’re back on Corcyra,” she said. Her voice was being amplified; Daniel’s had not been, but she and the audience heard him easily over the breeze. “Arnaud owned three copper mines on Corcyra, which the Independence Council nationalized; that probably affected his planning. The factor I cannot determine without access to Commissioner Arnaud’s mind, however …”
The smile she gave her audience was thin and as hard as chipped flint, but it was a smile.
“Which is still beyond my capabilities. The factor is whether Arnaud really is aiming at autocracy—tyranny, dictatorship, whichever term you prefer—as his fellow Board members believe. My information makes me doubt that he could have succeeded in seizing power before he took command of the expedition. If he should manage to recover Corcyra, however, his chances of a successful coup would be much better.”
“But ma’am?” Cory said. The eyes of the audience swivelled toward him like those of spectators at a tennis match.
Cory has developed a very respectable voice of command during the time he served under Captain Leary
. “Arnaud
can’t
succeed, can he? Not now. Even without the Corcyrans getting missiles from Karst, the best the Pantellarians can hope for is a stalemate.”
“Information suggests …” Adele said. The information was from Deirdre Leary, not Mistress Sand, but her only concern with data was its accuracy. “That Commissioner Arnaud hopes that Cinnabar will support his attempt to recover the planet. I do not believe that his hopes have much chance of being fulfilled.”
In the larger scheme of things, it didn’t matter if human civilization collapsed into a renewed death struggle between Cinnabar and the Alliance. In terms of human beings, though, it would be a very bad thing.
I don’t really feel that I’m human; but my friends certainly are
. The spacers watching Adele didn’t understand her smile, but it was a real smile.
Adele took a deep breath. She was wrung out, much as she would have felt after a gunfight.
“Captain Leary,” she said. She didn’t make it a question, because she very badly wanted to get out from under the gaze of her shipmates. “Please take charge.”
Adele’s first thought had been to go back to the
Kiesche
and sit at the console. She caught herself and instead took Daniel’s seat on the bench, between Cory and Woetjans.
“Fellow spacers,” Daniel said, grinning. “I want you to know that I plan to ransom the captives, not stage an armed prison break. I think we’d be a little outclassed taking on a whole planet, even if we were back in the
Sissie
.”
The spacers cheered. Adele suddenly realized that without thinking she had slid her data unit away in its pocket, but Daniel didn’t need amplification.
“But I’ll tell you this also,” he said, roughening his tone a little. “I plan to get the people we came for, and I’ll do whatever it takes to do that. Are you with me?”
The bellowed response sounded as though it came from caged animals rather than human beings. Adele listened in amazement and delight.
They’d react the same if Daniel announced that they were going to climb up the throats of plasma thrusters at full output. And I’d be with them
.
“Then get squared away, spacers,” Daniel said. “We’ll lift in four hours.”
They cheered again.
All of us are cheering
.
CHAPTER 17
Above Ischia
Daniel opened his eyes as the
Kiesche
finished shuddering back into the sidereal universe. He’d found extraction from the Matrix this time to be startlingly nasty: he felt as if all the nerves on his left side were being ripped out of the skin.
But extraction was never pleasant, and the process was over for now. He rubbed his left forearm with his palm and scanned the plot-position indicator to which his display was set.
“Freighter
Kiesche
to Ischian patrol vessels
B113
and
B117
,”
Cazelet said
. “We request landing clearance for Jezreel.”
The central town of the Monfiore clan.
“Over.”
Cazelet must have had an unusually easy extraction. He certainly sounded brighter than Daniel could have managed.
“Ship, prepare for High Drive,” Daniel said. He gimballed the three High Drive motors as closely as possible to the freighter’s axis of motion and switched them on. They vibrated badly; Motor Two cut out several times in the first twenty seconds.
Daniel waited until the motors had steadied, then brought the total impulse up to one g. This took the
Kiesche
out of free fall and began to brake the momentum she had brought with her from the Matrix.
A ship could only change her speed in normal space, but the constants of velocity and distance varied from one bubble of the cosmos to the next. Ships moved between universes, each time multiplying their rate of motion relative to the sidereal universe. When they finally extracted from the Matrix, they were many light-years from where they had inserted.
Astrogation computers could provide solutions for anyone who knew enough to program a destination. A moderately skilled astrogator with current data could cut transit times by as much as half over those of a console’s solution. Skilled astrogators viewed the cosmos from outside the hull and refined their courses according to the momentary energy levels which they read in the apparent colors of the bubble universes they observed.
Commander Stacy Bergen, the brother of Daniel’s mother, was renowned as the best astrogator ever to wear the uniform of the RCN. If he had a rival, it was Daniel Leary, the nephew whom Bergen had trained from infancy.
“Patrol vessels
B113
and
B117
,”
Cazelet repeated. He had been using tight-beam microwave with separate sending units aimed at the widely separated Ischian ships. This time he added a short-wave hailing frequency, 15.5 mH in the 20-meter band.
“This is freighter
Kiesche
out of Corcyra, seeking permission to land at Jezreel, over.”
The
Kiesche
had extracted 29,000 miles above Ischia, performance that most captains—and most crews—would have considered miraculous. Even Daniel had to admit that there had been a good deal of luck in the result, though an experienced RCN officer was expected to come within 50,000 miles more often than not.
The patrol ships were in powered orbits at 100,000 miles, where tramp freighters were most likely to extract. Images captured by the
Kiesche
’s newly fitted optics showed that
B113
and
B117
were small freighters coupled to huge tanks which allowed them to hold station at 1g acceleration for months instead of weeks.
Tugs could replace the water buffalos when necessary and probably rotate the crews. The duty was as boring as that of a lighthouse keeper on the ground, but Daniel knew there were people whose personalities were a perfect fit.
If Daniel simply concentrated on his display, he could pretend that he was back in the
Princess Cecile
: the consoles were effectively identical. The freighter’s limited sail plan had prevented Daniel from taking advantage of subtleties with which the corvette would have saved a few minutes here, a few hours there, on the way to Ischia. All in all, however, the
Kiesche
was a sound little vessel which had amply justified Sun’s praise of her.
“
Kiesche
, this is One-three,”
a male voice responded from
B113
. The vessel was slightly more distant than its sister, but she and the
Kiesche
were in approaching orbits.
“What is your cargo, over?”
“Sir?”
said Cory, using a jumpseat and a flat-plate display. He was using a two-way link rather than the general push, though any communications aboard a ship where Adele had set up the net included her.
“The Monfiores have issued a general alert, and some of their neighbors are doing the same thing. They’re not planning an ambush, but everybody’s supposed to grab his gun and be ready, over.”
During the rebuild, four flat-plate displays had been added to the freighter’s bridge. Daniel realized that he didn’t know whether Mon had done the work on his own hook, or if was a gift from Adele’s other employer. They didn’t add computing power, but they used only an insignificant fraction of the command console’s capacity unless they were attempting astrogation.
“Understood, Cory,” Daniel said. That was what he had expected. The people who had planned and executed the envoys’ kidnapping would certainly be ready to respond to a smash-and-grab rescue attempt.
“B113,” Cazelet said. According to Daniel’s display, he was on microwave only, but he was continuing to copy the other patrol vessel.
“We’re not carrying any cargo. We’ve come to discuss the release of Corcyran envoys with the Monfiore clan.
Kiesche
over.”
Sun had a gunnery array up on the third flat-plate display. Daniel didn’t imagine that the
Kiesche
would need her 50-mm popgun, but neither was there any better present use for the unit. Knowing that the gunner was ready to respond probably calmed some of the spacers; and Daniel rather liked knowing it also.
“
Kiesche
,”
the patrol vessel said,
“this is your first landing here. Be aware that customs officials will be on the ground by the time you’re ready to open your hatches. There is a one-percent tariff on everything imported to Ischia, and we’re bloody serious about it. Your ship will be confiscated if you try to evade the tariff, over.”
“Understood,
B113
,”
Cazelet said calmly.
“We have no cargo on this voyage, over.”
“Sir,”
volunteered Cory,
“they run their whole planetary government off the tariff. There
isn’t
much government, but they’re still being pinched by the way trade’s shut down to the planet, over.”
“Thank you, Cory,” Daniel said. “That could be important, over.”
Daniel hadn’t bothered to learn about the planetary government since his dealings would be with the Monfiores alone. It was comforting to know that there was no chance of an Ischian destroyer appearing if things went wrong, though.
“They don’t search ships in orbit,”
Cory said,
“but they ask where you’re landing and send an aircar from the nearest customs station on the ground. If anybody gets gay with the inspectors, the clan’s neighbors come in and take care of things. That hasn’t happened in thirty years though, over.”
There had been a period at the beginning of the Hiatus when Cinnabar had a similar government—or lack of government. The Xenos region expanded, either by conquest or the voluntary association of families in other regions. The Learys of Bantry had joined Xenos—and had used that alliance to bludgeon other families on the southwest coast into submission to them as well as to the central government.
Corder Leary was a proper descendent of those ancestors, and perhaps his son was, too. The ability to see the way a situation was developing and to get on the right side of those developments was as useful to an RCN officer as it was to a politician.
The fragmented nature of Ischia’s settled terrain had allowed the clans to remain largely independent. Ischia wasn’t a place where you would look for great art or—Daniel smiled—great libraries; but as with isolated patrol vessels, there would be people that the life suited.
“All right
, Kiesche
,”
the orbiting controller said.
“You’re cleared to Jezreel. One-one-three out.”
Daniel paused a moment, then said, “Ship, this is Six. We’re going to start hard braking in … one minute. When we disembark in Jezreel, we will not be carrying side-arms, repeat
not
. This is going to go fine unless somebody screws up, and I am not going to make it easy for these boneheads on the ground to screw up. Six out.”
He pressed EXECUTE with both thumbs together, the way he had learned to do as a cadet on a training ship which was older than his grandfather. That seemed a lifetime ago, but it was only ten years.
The High Drive motors switched to maximum impulse, and the plasma thrusters added their roar to the high-frequency buzz of matter recombining with antimatter. Daniel leaned back into his couch, since there was no need to fight the braking thrust. When they dropped a little deeper into the atmosphere, he would have to shut off the High Drive to prevent the exhaust from eroding the throats, but that wouldn’t happen for some minutes.
The harbor at Jezreel filled one quadrant of Daniel’s display. It was a pool of modest size formed by damming the river which had carved the valley. There were six ships floating idle there, probably a sign of the collapse of planetary trade. They didn’t fill the harbor, but Daniel wouldn’t have wanted to land a vessel larger than the
Kiesche
on the surface area remaining.
Daniel had inset a realtime image of Adele, facing him on the other side of the console. Her expression was her usual one of unemotional focus. Daniel had no idea of what she was working on; he rarely did.
But he was sure that when the time came, she would provide something that he suddenly realized that he needed.
Whatever
he suddenly realized that he needed.
He grinned.
Jezreel on Ischia
The main hatch began to grind downward. It hadn’t jammed again, but it still vibrated badly every time it opened. Steam and ozone swirled through the rear compartment and onto the bridge, but they had no effect save for occasional sneezes.
Adele got up stiffly. Vesey quickly took her place on the couch. She would command the
Kiesche
while Daniel was heading the negotiations with the Monfiores.
Daniel arched his shoulders backward to stretch his torso. “Time to meet our hosts, I think,” he said.
Hogg grunted, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. Tovera said nothing, but her eyes flicked to Adele and away.
The last member of the negotiating team was Cazelet, who stood stiffly by the hatch to the stern compartment. He wore new utilities which, for a spacer on a tramp, were dress clothes. He had the business expertise which the task required, though he had admitted that he was uncomfortable bargaining for lives.
Adele wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting at the console. That was the beauty of losing herself in work, of course: it took her from a world of human realities to one of information, which was much more to her liking. Aches and stiffness were far down the list of aspects of the real world which she found uncomfortable.
“Six!” said Cory. He could now move to the command console, but he apparently didn’t want to leave whatever he was doing at the flat-plate display. “There’s a four-inch plasma cannon aimed at the harbor from the hillside to port. It isn’t new—it must’ve been there for decades. And it isn’t netted into the defense computer, so I can’t switch it off.”
“Officer Mundy?” said Daniel. He grinned.
Does he know or is he just guessing?
“There is an icon on our displays beside the gunnery lockout,” Adele said. “If it is activated—and I don’t expect that to happen unless I do it—the power goes out in the Jezreel community. The cannon has a backup generator, but that will not switch on.”
“Thank you, Officer Mundy,” Daniel said. “Hmm … Lady Mundy, I think, for this purpose. Please walk beside me down the ramp.”
Adele nodded and followed him through the hatch. The rest of team fell in behind.
The spacers in the rear compartment held submachine guns and stocked impellers. Apparently the order that the crew shouldn’t carry guns outside had convinced them to be armed while still on the freighter.
Heaven help us if Evans starts shooting!
Daniel stepped close to Woetjans and whispered something, then strode toward the entry hatch without the pause Adele had expected. She hopped after him to catch up so that they stepped onto the ramp together. Behind them she heard the bosun bellow, “All right, Sissies! Hand your guns to Hale right bloody now and she’ll unload them. Then slide them back into the arms locker, got it? Now!”
“Some risks,” Daniel said, “are unavoidable. Being shot in the back by your own people shouldn’t be one of them.”
The sunlight was pleasant. Adele didn’t usually have an opinion about landscapes, but Jezreel seemed, well,
nice
. Most harbors were cesspools, literally; ships emptied waste into the water, and often the city’s sewers drained into it. The plasma exhaust from ships landing and lifting incinerated the floating organic materials and mixed the smoke with steam to form a thick miasma.
“The flow from upstream must flush the pool constantly,” said Daniel with approval. He must have been thinking the same thing that Adele was. “And of course, there hasn’t been much movement through Jezreel because of the slowdown in trade.”
A delegation of four locals waited at the head of the floating pier which they had extended to the
Kiesche
’s starboard pontoon. They looked grim-faced, but they weren’t obviously armed.
The fifty or more men whom Adele could see among the houses up the slope from the harbor, and about half the similar number of women,
did
carry guns openly. The buildings themselves had walls of cast concrete and roofs of structural plastic, but gardens and window boxes softened their appearance.
“Rather a pleasant little community,” Daniel remarked cheerfully as they walked down the ramp. “I’m sure that you and I can work matters out with them.”