CHAPTER 3
Xenos on Cinnabar
The big guard who had tried to block Daniel’s way out of the interview room had managed to stand, though he was leaning forward and cupping his groin.
“Tester, get Riddle in the alley and help him to the car,” Forbes said. She was small and sharp-featured; her voice sounded like breaking glass. “Stay there until I join you.”
“Your man may need looking after,” Daniel said hoarsely. He had to pull the words individually from the jumble in his mind; adrenaline had shaken everything together.
“Naw, he’ll be okay,” Hogg said. His voice hadn’t settled either. He’d folded back the knife blade, but he hadn’t returned the knuckle-duster to his pocket yet. “He don’t deserve it, but he will be.”
“Well, wait in the hall,” Daniel said. His throat was dry. “Give Tester a hand and then come back.”
“S’okay,” Tester said, walking into the hallway and passing between Daniel and the minister on his way toward the outside door. He stood a little straighter with each step. “I’ll get Riddle.”
He didn’t look at Hogg on his way past.
“Let’s have that drink.” Anston said. He took Daniel’s arm and walked back to the wheelchair.
“Sit,” Forbes said, pointing to the chair Daniel had knocked over. She took one of those by the wall and dragged it to the table.
Under other circumstances Daniel would have gotten the chair for her himself, but he was still trembling from recent events and—the smile didn’t quite reach his lips—still quite irritated with the minister. This had been unpleasant, and it could have gone much worse. Though Forbes would probably have hushed up even a killing.
“Well…” she said as she put down her glass of brandy. “Let’s get down to business. Are you familiar with the Tarbell Stars?”
She sounded quite cheerful; either she didn’t realize what could have happened or she didn’t care. That seemed to be a necessary attitude for a politician. At any rate, Daniel had never heard his father express regret at what any of his successful schemes had cost other people.
“I’ve heard of them,” Daniel said cautiously. “I’m not familiar, no. I believe that though the cluster is independent, it’s well within what the Alliance considers its sphere of influence.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Forbes said, bobbing her head like a bird pecking seeds. “I’m sure your friend Mundy can give you all the information you need. Well, there’s a civil war going on there now.”
“I see,” said Daniel. There was nothing unusual about small governmental units fracturing, generally as the result of a leadership conflict. “I…Ah, Minister? I trust the Republic isn’t planning to get involved in a matter that has far more importance to the Alliance?”
Because that would certainly mean a return to full-scale war between the two superpowers. Neither had recovered from the decades of grinding war which had paused with the Treaty of Amiens. A complete victory by either the Republic or the Alliance was almost impossible. It was far more likely that renewed war would cause both to collapse, which would lead directly to chaos and barbarism across all of human space.
The previous time war had come to that point, it caused a hiatus in star travel which had lasted a thousand years.
“The Republic isn’t involved, no,” the minister said brightly. “But there are some intriguing aspects to the matter.”
Unexpectedly, Lord Anston clacked his glass down on the table. When the others looked at him, he said, “Leary, I have no business in this discussion. I was asked as a character reference, that’s all, and to be honest I’m sorry I went any farther than that.”
He thrust out his hand; his grip felt frail in Daniel’s.
“I’ll talk to Hogg about fishing,” Anston said. He looked at Forbes for the first time since setting the glass down, glared, and added, “Leary, whatever you decide, may Heaven be with you. And with Cinnabar!”
He rolled to the door and let himself out. Only when it had latched behind him did Minister Forbes say, “Leary, there’s a considerable risk to you in the proposition I’m about to broach; that goes without saying. But I swear to you that if I thought there were real danger to the Republic, I wouldn’t have entertained the overtures.”
“Go on,” Daniel said. “Please,” he added, remembering that he was talking to the Minister of Defense.
Forbes nodded. Daniel’s reserve and Anston’s obvious disapproval seemed to have dampened her enthusiasm slightly. She resumed, “You’re correct in saying that the Tarbell Stars are within the Alliance sphere of influence, but you perhaps realize that Guarantor Porra regularly creates competing chains of command to divide potential opposition within his own polity?”
“Yes,” Daniel said. The space officers of the ships and ground establishments of the Fleet were paralleled by political officers of equal or greater rank. In the civil sphere, governors were watched and could be overruled by the residents of the Fifth Bureau, which reported directly to Guarantor Porra.
“Extraterritorial jurisdiction of the Tarbell Stars,” Forbes said, regaining her animation, “is under the Fifth Bureau…but it has been divided between two separate dioceses. One of these is the diocese directed by General Storn, whom I believe you have met?”
Daniel’s face went very still. “I have, yes,” he said. “But only to have exchanged a few words with.”
A few words, and a salute.
“You would have to discuss the matter with someone else—”
With Adele.
“—if you want substantive information.”
“I don’t,” said Forbes. She was wearing a satisfied expression. “General Storn is backing, at least is interested in, the Tarbell government forces. The rebels call themselves the Upholders of Freedom. They’re supported and may have been created by a General Krychek. Krychek directs the other Fifth Bureau diocese involved. He is a professional rival of Storn, and they appear to be personal enemies as well.”
“All right,” said Daniel, because the minister was waiting for him to say something. He didn’t know where the conversation was going, and he was unwilling to say anything which might imply an opinion until he knew more and had discussed the matter with Adele.
From her expression, Forbes wasn’t best pleased with his noncommittal response. She nonetheless went on, “General Storn is unwilling to oppose the Upholders directly, since it’s at least possible that Krychek has the support of Guarantor Porra. There are numbers of mercenaries fighting on both sides of the conflict, however. General Storn has suggested through intermediaries that it would arouse no concern in Pleasaunce if the Tarbell government were to hire the Princess Cecile and her full complement.”
“I see,” said Daniel, since at last he did. Quite a number of questions remained, but only one had to be answered—if he were not going to walk out of the room right now, regardless of how the Minister of Defense might feel about it.
“Minister Forbes,” he said, “forgive me if this seems impertinent, but why is a high official of the Republic of Cinnabar bringing me this offer?”
“The Republic has no interest in the Tarbell Stars,” Forbes said. She didn’t sound offended or even surprised. “It has been suggested to me in my public capacity that if I could help General Storn in this matter, that it might aid the Republic in matters which are of interest to us.”
Daniel smiled wryly. If Minister Forbes were to secure concessions to the Republic from the Alliance, it would be a considerable benefit to her in the next leadership contest in the Senate. She had narrowly lost the speakership election a few years previously, which was why she had been sent as envoy to Karst.
There was nothing improper in that. A Minister of Defense who benefitted the Republic might reasonably expect her efforts to be noticed.
“It seems to me…” Daniel said aloud, mostly as a placeholder. “that a corvette like the Sissie, even ably crewed, is unlikely to be an overwhelming factor in a rebellion of any size. The Tarbell cluster involves nearly a hundred stars, does it not?”
“Seventy with any population or government worth mentioning,” Forbes said, nodding agreement. “My suspicion is that Storn believes that you and Lady Mundy will be of more value to the Tarbell government than your armed yacht will. I haven’t discussed the question, but that’s how I would think if I were in his position.”
The trouble with doing things that others said were impossible, Daniel thought, is that people keep coming up with other impossible things. Eventually they’re likely to be right.
Aloud he said, “I’ll think about the matter, Minister. I need to discuss it before I come to a decision.”
Forbes smiled and rose to her feet. “Very well, Captain,” she said. “I await your decision with a great deal of interest.”
The minister left the door open behind her as she walked out. Daniel heard her exchange a quiet greeting with Admiral Anston. Hogg looked in from the hall without saying anything.
Daniel joined Hogg. He’d expected Forbes to press him, perhaps even plead with him. Instead she had demonstrated that she had read his character during the Karst mission and that she was treating him with respect and intelligence.
He grinned. Forbes was manipulating him in the fashion she’d decided would be most effective. Forbes was doing her job.
Hogg backed away, waiting for Daniel to give him direction. Daniel said to Anston, “Sir? Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Did Forbes leave the brandy in there?” Anston said, nodding toward the room Daniel had left.
“Yes, she did,” Daniel said. “Would you like help drinking it?”
“No, just leave me with the decanter,” Anston said. He barked a laugh. “I owe Forbes thanks for one thing. I’ve got a battalion of nurses that ordinarily worry me like I was a kitten in a dog pen. Forbes got them off my back for the afternoon.”
Anston wheeled himself into the doorway, then rotated his chair and looked up at Daniel. “I was a bloody fool to have gone along with this game, Leary,” he said.
Daniel shrugged. “Sir,” he said, “when RCN officers stop taking orders from our elected masters, the Republic is in sad shape. Anyway, no harm done.”
He saluted. The ripped back of his tunic flapped when his arm rose.
Anston returned the salute and disappeared into the drawing room. He closed the door behind him.
Daniel took a deep breath and said, “Hogg, it isn’t Admiral Anston who’s the bloody fool; or about to become one, anyhow.”
Hogg shrugged. “I guess you’ll make it work out well enough, Master,” he said. “Anyway, that’s not my business to say.”
Clearing his throat, Hogg added, “I guess you need to chat with the mistress now?”
“Shortly,” Daniel said. He grinned widely. “But before I discuss matters with Adele, I need to talk to Miranda. I need to talk to my wife.”
* * *
Adele stood in the street outside Chatsworth Minor, talking to—mostly listening to—three women whom to the best of her knowledge she had never seen before. She held a twenty-ounce mug of Bantry ale, wishing that she had gotten four ounces of spirits instead; her wrist was getting tired.
“Now she married Cousin Sandor,” said the tallest of the three, a woman with blonde hair, a brightly youthful face, and eyes that might have been a century old. Her voice had the brittleness of old age as well. “That’s my cousin, not yours, your ladyship.”
All three women laughed in affected tones.
One of the reasons Adele held the mug in her right hand was that it prevented her from instinctively taking the data unit out of her pocket and losing herself in it. That would be discourteous. So would reaching into her left tunic pocket and shooting the women dead with the pistol there, but that notion looked increasingly attractive.
“Now, Priscilla—and how amusing that her name sounds so much like the name of your ship, Lady Mundy! Now Priscilla married—”
Daniel and Miranda were approaching, followed by a troupe of well-wishers, which reminded Adele of her father’s clientele at the height of his political power. That wasn’t an altogether positive memory—Adele’s smile was too slight to be noticed by anyone looking at her—but she wasn’t superstitious.
“Ladies, you must excuse me!” Adele said. “I must speak with Captain Leary!”
That is the cold truth, because if I stay here any longer I will behave ungraciously.
“Adele, might I speak with you for a moment?” Daniel said before Adele was able to get out her very similar words. “Ah, perhaps with a little privacy?”
Miranda squeezed his shoulder and turned to their entourage. “I’ll try to deputize for both of us with our guests,” she said. She looked as happy as Adele had ever seen her.
Miranda’s face was framed by a halo of white gauze, and her dress was a cloud of similar material. The individual layers of fabric were so fine that Adele wondered if there was a membrane of some other material to prevent the ensemble from being transparent in bright sunlight.
“Yes, we’ll go up to your suite,” Adele said. “You arrived at a good time for me.”
She wouldn’t really have shot the women. She might have overturned the beer onto their feet, however. She would have regretted that afterwards: her mother’s ghost would be horrified.
Hogg cleared a path through the people on the steps, all of whom wanted to say something to Daniel. He was more diplomatic than Adele would have expected.
If she hadn’t seen Hogg a moment before, she wouldn’t have doubted that he really was as drunk as his slurred, “Clear ta way fer mashter!” sounded. He swung his mug back and forth, but the drops he sloshed out never quite stained the finery of importunate well-wishers.
Tovera was bringing up the rear. Adele could only hope that she too was on good behavior.
“There are so many people,” Adele said as Daniel led her into the house. “And they seem happy.”
“Yes, they do,” Daniel agreed. “You and Deirdre have done a wonderful job, Adele. I won’t forget it.”
He had missed the point of the comment, which was Adele’s wonder that anyone could be happy when there were so many people around. It was evidence of how distracted she was that the fact surprised her.
A servant with a Leary flash on his collar—not one of the normal house staff—passed them through the plush cord at the staircase. Hogg stepped aside to wait at the base of the stairs, where Tovera joined him. Adele wondered what the two of them discussed. It was good that they got along; it would have been—briefly—disastrous if they had not.
Adele had her personal data unit out even before she was through the door of Daniel’s suite on the first landing. Inside she sat on the nearest chair. Her control wands quivered, manipulating the holographic screen by their attitude and position. Daniel watched, patient if perhaps bemused in the glance she spared him.
“The woman who was speaking to me,” she said, “the tall one. She’s the widow of my father’s brother’s brother-in-law. Her name is Henriet Krause.”
Instead of speaking, Daniel raised an eyebrow. With a shock of embarrassment, Adele realized that he didn’t have—she hadn’t provided—any background to explain why that was worth mentioning.
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said. “Mistress Krause is probably my closest living relative, and all I could think of while talking to her was how much I wished I were somewhere else.”
She pursed her lips and added, “Mistress Krause isn’t very close, of course.”
Because if she were, the Proscriptions which Speaker Leary had ordered would have led to her execution as well.
“I’m sure you can renew your acquaintance at a less busy time,” Daniel said mildly. For the first time Adele noticed that his first class uniform had been torn along the seams and—the decorative wall mirror gave her a glimpse of his back—between his shoulders as well. “But since we are someplace else at the moment…?”
“I’m sorry,” Adele repeated. “Please tell me what it was you wanted to discuss.”
“There’s a revolution in the Tarbell Stars,” Daniel said. “Rivals in the Fifth Bureau are backing—secretly backing, I gather—the opposing parties. Your friend Storn is backing the Tarbell Government.”
I wish everyone knew how to provide information as clearly and succinctly, Adele thought as her wands sent information streaming onto her display. Daniel waited patiently. As a courtesy she muttered, “Ah,” but Daniel knew her too well to imagine that she was ignoring what he had just said.
“General Storn believes that if the government were to hire the Sissie and her crew as mercenaries,” Daniel said, “you and I would be able to advise them usefully.” After a pause, he added, “It seems rather nebulous to me.”
“We would be reporting to President Menandros?” Adele said. She was sorting through material recently added to the suspense folder of her base unit here in Chatsworth Minor. The file came without a provenance, but the format was that of Mistress Sand’s organization.
“I don’t know any details,” Daniel said. “I’m not sure there are any. If Storn is keeping his involvement secret, he may not be able to influence how we’ll be used. It looks like a real mare’s nest.”
“Um,” said Adele, again being polite. Operations beyond the borders of the great powers—the civilized states, Cinnabar and the Alliance—were always mare’s nests. The fact that she and Daniel would be operating under the titular command of a local potentate wouldn’t change that either way, because they would simply ignore any orders with which they disagreed.
She and Daniel had been known to ignore orders from their superiors in the Republic a time or two also. That wasn’t going to change either.
Adele looked up at Daniel, holding the wands still for a moment. “Does Admiral Anston support this involvement?” she asked. She had seen the admiral’s wife arrive at the reception with an escort of RCN officers, but Anston himself had not been present.
“The admiral thinks it’s a foolish and dangerous operation,” Daniel said. “Minister Forbes, on the other hand, thinks that the potential value to the Republic and the great potential value to her political ambitions more than outweigh any dangers to you and me.”
He smiled broadly, suddenly relaxing. “What I think,” Daniel said, “is that if Anston were my age, he’d knock me down to get at the chance. Well, he’d try.”
“Are there any restrictions on how you’re to act after you reach the Tarbell Stars?” Adele said as she returned to her screen.
“Not that anyone has mentioned,” Daniel said. He shrugged. “Anyway, if I’m to be operating as a private citizen with no support from my government, I’m bloody well not going to be taking orders from politicians.”
“I presume you would be given a full briefing if you were willing to undertake the task?” Adele said.
“I’ll certainly get a briefing before I hare off to the Tarbell Stars,” Daniel said. “Off-planet somewhere. If I’m not, we’re not, satisfied with the terms, then the matter is closed and nobody needs know that it was even raised.”
He cleared his throat again and said, “Adele, we’ve talked about what other people think. What do you think?”
She continued to go through the file which Mistress Sand had supplied. There were points which would require clarification, but for the most part it was remarkably complete—given the physical and political distance between Cinnabar and the Tarbell Stars.
“I was told to use my judgment,” Adele said. “I see no disadvantage to me in attempting the task.”
“Well, you might be killed,” said Daniel, frowning.
Adele shrugged and continued to work. “I see no disadvantage to me,” she repeated.
“In that case…” Daniel said. “I’d like to make an announcement from your balcony. With Miranda. She said that she’d support any decision that I made.”
“Yes, she would,” Adele said. She looked up, then put the data unit away in its pocket. “And of course you may use the balcony. The acoustics of the close are very good, as I remember from hearing my father addressing his supporters here.”
She wondered what Lucas Mundy would think about Corder Leary’s son speaking from the balcony from which Lucas had so often roused Popular Party supporters.
It didn’t matter: Lucas Mundy was dead. His surviving daughter was pleased at the current use.
* * *
The main stairs of Chatsworth Minor were wide enough that Daniel and Miranda could walk up side-by-side. She pulled him closer and said, “Don’t worry about the dress. It won’t crush. Mother and I know fabric.”
“You’re lovely,” Daniel said, a safe thing to say but not exactly true. Miranda was striking and extremely fit, but she wasn’t a classic beauty. Her hair was usually brown, though bright sun brought out auburn highlights; her features weren’t quite regular; and her torso would be described as sturdy rather than curvy.
Daniel Leary had known a good number of women. He’d never known one who was more alive than Miranda, and he’d never known one who made him feel more alive.
Adele was already waiting on the fourth floor, in what was now her library. It had been the master suite during her father’s lifetime. While Daniel was fetching his bride, Adele and Tovera had moved piles of information in various forms off two chairs.
That hadn’t been necessary: all Daniel cared was that there be a path to the wrought-iron balcony facing the close and the crowd there. Still, it showed that Adele was trying to be hospitable.
Daniel turned to Miranda and said, “Now, you’re sure—”
That was as far as he got. Miranda touched his lips with her right index finger and said,”Yes, I’m sure. I told you I was sure. Now let’s do what we planned.”
Adele’s face was as still as glass, but Tovera grinned. Daniel thought about it and grinned back.
He opened the balcony door and stepped out, holding Miranda’s hand. The crowd noise built to a roar as people looked up at the couple above them.
Daniel raised both arms to their full length. After a calculated moment, he brought them down abruptly. The result wasn’t complete silence, but it was close enough that he could expect to be heard when he called, “Shipmates!”
The response was shriller and even more enthusiastic, though the volume may have been reduced from its earlier peak. Daniel heard someone Yee-hah! quite clearly.
He gestured for silence again, grinning. There was an enormous number of people below. More were pouring out of the houses—or at least they were trying to get out—when they realized that Daniel was speaking. The small porches were already clogged by people talking in the doorways.
“And friends!” Daniel said. He was used to making himself heard on a starship under circumstances in which lives depended on people doing what he said. The tuned acoustics of the close helped, but he was doing his part now.
“In two weeks my bride and I are making a honeymoon cruise to Jardin,” Daniel said. “We’ll be travelling on the Princess Cecile, and for that we’ll need a crew.”
Miranda had mentioned several times during their relationship that her father had loved Jardin. Her delight when Daniel suggested that they honeymoon there proved that he’d been right to hear wistfulness in that recollection of her father.
Jardin was independent and a popular destination for people—for wealthy people—from all across human space. It was a perfect location in which to meet the envoys of General Storn for a detailed briefing.
“All former Sissies are welcome to sign on for the voyage,” Daniel said. “I can’t promise prize money this time—”
More cries of enthusiasm, but they died back before he had to quell them.
“—but I’ll pay honest wages. I’ve been told that Jardin’s a good landfall for a spacer with a little pocket money.”
When the noise settled again, Daniel said, “I hope that sober Sissies will in the morning pass my offer on to their shipmates who’ve already got a load on. If there are any sober Sissies here!”
He turned to Miranda. They embraced as the crowd roared and continued to roar for a very long time.