For Love and Glory

LIII

Orbiting fifty kilometers ahead through the shadow of the planet, Authority was to the naked eye hardly a glint in the shining throng. Viewscreen magnification and amplification brought forth the steely form, the guns and launchers, aimed straight at Hulda. The human ship lay not quite facing, her hull at a slight angle. “Like an underdog baring his throat to the alpha, not to get bitten,” Hebo had jested without much mirth.

Ironbright’s image appeared. “Are you ready to send the data?” she demanded.

“When we’ve settled the terms,” Hebo replied curtly.

The head reared on the long neck. “What further is to discuss? You shall transmit at once, before a new emergency arises. Do not abuse our patience.”

“We have a few questions first. How can you be sure we’ll convey fully and accurately?”

“Afterward we will inspect your vessel and verify.”

Hebo made a chopping gesture. “Uh-uh. We’re not about to admit a boarding party, to do whatever it wants.”

“Be realistic. You have personal weapons. You can barricade yourselves if you choose, and wait. One inspector, no more, will actually be hostage to you. After he has reported back, you may depart.”

This’s no surprise, Lissa thought, and on the surface it’s by no means unreasonable. “Nevertheless,” she said, and the marvel was how steadily she could speak, “we want to talk with Romon Seafell. We’re acquainted, you know; he’s been a shipmate of mine and an associate of Captain Hebo’s for years. He and we can better make certain that everything is clearly understood and agreed to, than members of two different species can.”

Ironbright hesitated. “Romon Seafell is in an agitated condition,” she stated after half a minute. “Evidently from concern for you.”

You can sense that, Lissa thought, and a fear for himself if he feels it, which he well may, but you can’t read his mind. Orichalc might have had some slight intuition, but Orichalc’s been with humans a long time, and has a sympathetic heart such as you’ll never know, you or your crusader crew. “All the more reason to talk with him,” she said. “He must need a friendly human touch.” Esker doesn’t qualify.

“Are you afraid he’ll let out your real intentions?” Hebo challenged. “That wouldn’t help either him or us, would it?”

“No,” Ironbright admitted. “It would be harmful in that it forced us to fire on you. Do not infer any such thing from his words or his manner.”

“We shan’t,” Lissa replied. “We simply want his reassurance.”

“You may have it.” The screen blanked.

“A decisive type,” Hebo said. “But, yes, like we figured, she doesn’t care to stall around one second longer than necessary to get what we can give.”

He had made the observation earlier, and was now merely staving off silence. Then, she had wondered if they would be permitted to go home and complain. He had opined that that was no serious consideration. Quite soon after Ironbright returned to Susaia, Dominator warcraft would be here. Asborg could not muster strength that quickly. Neither side wanted war. Whoever arrived first would be in possession—till the Forerunners or Earth acted—and the diplomats could quibble about an “incident” as much as they cared to.

When the matter of a Susaian inspector arose between them, he had in his turn wondered whether that would be a real requirement, or merely a ploy. It would presumably guarantee the correctness of their transmission, and lull their wariness for a critical span.

“We’ll have no choice but to go along with it,” he had concluded bleakly. “I repeat, no gamble with your life that we don’t absolutely have to take.” She shuddered and held him close.

In this instant, the visiscreen flicked back to life. Romon stared out at them. He had gone haggard, he trembled, sweat studded his forehead and danced off in tiny star-gleams. “Lissa,” he croaked.

Hebo drew back. The other man had no attention for him anyway. “Romon,” the woman cried low. “What’s the matter?”

“You nearly died.”

She smiled above the hammering of her pulse. “That was then,” she answered. “It’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. I’m worried about you, though.”

“I—never foresaw—this. If I’d had any idea you were coming, I’d never have gone—and, and on Susaia I didn’t expect so fast an action. I expected they and my House elders would, would discuss things, and make an open agreement. I did!”

Yes, she thought, he can safely say this, because of course Ironbright knows it, and knows we’d know it. What happened here did in fact take all of us by tremendous surprise. She has also been improvising. But, as Torben said, she is ruthlessly decisive.

“I understand, Romon,” she responded, still gentler. “Nevertheless it’s worked out well, hasn’t it? For everybody.”

“Lissa—” He couldn’t go on.

She whetted her tone. “What ails you? Your ship will let ours go in peace. Won’t she?” After a moment: “Won’t she? I daresay you’ve heard the plan. You could scarcely not have, with a trans and the crew being alerted. Or did they lock you away while that went on? Are they behaving suspiciously? Tell me!”

Tears joined the sweat.

“I’m sorry, Romon,” she said, softly again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I realize you’ve been shocked. In spite of the differences we’ve had, I’ve always believed you’re a man of honor.” Never mind that episode of the flowers. He had doubtless been serving what he saw as the interests of his House. “I’ll take your word, Romon, and look forward to meeting you as a friend.”

She couldn’t offer him love, not credibly. But she could use it.

He swallowed. His shoulders squared. “Yes,” he said with a sudden clarity and firmness that she hadn’t awaited. “My word of honor, Lissa. Did you imagine I’d stand by and let you be murdered? They admire your courage and resourcefulness here. You know Susaians have their own traditions of the worthy opponent. To the best of my knowledge and belief, once you’ve done what Ironbright wants, she’ll let you go as freely, with praise, as freely as Macbeth sent Duncan home.”

She barely heard the breath hiss between Hebo’s teeth. “Goodbye, Lissa,” Romon said.

“Goodbye for this while,” she answered.

“Yes.” The screen blanked.

She turned toward Hebo. His face had gone stony. “Well,” he said, “that’s a relief, isn’t it?”

She knew he was speaking for the transmitter. Cold stabbed her.

Ironbright reappeared. “Are you satisfied?” she asked.

Hebo nodded. “Stand by for data download.”

Beneath view of the scanner, he touched a receptor spot on the panel. It gave the ship an arbitrary brief signal which had been designated a command. Prepare to execute Plan Beta.

Betrayal had been betrayed.

“Ready,” said Ironbright.

A radio beam sprang forth. At its baud rate, it bore the work and discoveries of half a planetary day across in less than a minute.

Hebo and Lissa looked into one another’s eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Would they have a little more time while the inspector came aboard? Just a little. Please.

A titan smote them. It rammed them back into their chairs with the force of twenty gravities or more. Blackness thundered across brains. Blood burst from nostrils.

The force stopped. Lissa caught three breaths while the stars whirled around her. Then the next blow hammered her into night.

Afterward she had a feeling that she had somehow sensed the crash; but it was dreamlike, it might have been fleeting delirium.

No flesh could detect and react with the spacecraft’s speed. As the missile left its launcher, Hulda accelerated. The death flew several meters past her. Before it could turn in pursuit, Hulda swung about. In a second burst of power, she hurtled against Authority.

Her hull and fields had withstood impact with an asteroid. The enemy vessel was meant entirely for combat. Shards of her exploded in every direction. Some burned down through the planetary sky as meteors.

Outracing the hound, Hulda reached hyperjump distance. Acceleration ended. She sprang across spacetime.