The Man Without a Planet

TWELVE

SOME HOURS LATER, the Border Patrol squadron that Pertinax had summoned from Valadon’s garrison arrived, and aboard it was Brice Hallen himself. The squadron took up parking orbit around Ophmar, and Raid Linton and Wilm Bardry came up to it in the Arthon’s skimmer, which was still serviceable despite a punctured observation blister.

They met with Hallen on the bridge: Bardry, laconic and very matter-of-fact, now that the action was over; Linton, very uncomfortable in his gaudy suit of Rilké ceremonial finery.

Hallen shook hands with them both, and complimented them gravely on a good job very well done.

“Commander, let me also say that I’m damn glad you turned out to be as trustworthy as Wilm, here, assured me you were—and as I’d hoped and prayed you were.”

“Thank you, sir,” Raul said, stiffly.

Hallen turned to Wilm.

“How’d you talk him into your scheme, Wilm? Oh, sure, of course. You reassured him by telling him what happened to Carrinpson.”

Bardry blinked.

“You know,” he marveled, “I completely forgot about Carringson.”

Raul’s ears picked at the name, which had unpleasant connotations to him.

“What’s this about Caningson?” he asked. Wilm smiled, vaguely foolish.

“Well, hell, Raul, one of the prime arguments I was go­ing to use on you was to point out that all governments are not wicked. Often, they’re just slow, very slow to do the proper thing. And one of the points I was going to make to support this contention, was to tell you why I was on the Harel Palldon with you, under incognito, during the war.”

“Well—why were you, Wilm?”

“Gathering evidence against Vice-Admiral Camngson. We’d had reports he was abusing his authority, and running his command like a private little empire all his own. The ‘scorching’ of neutral Darogir, without even giving the poor bastards a chance to capitulate, was a prime bit of evidence against him. Well … anyway … it took a long time to get the court-martial underway, but it finally went through. They broke him and bounced him out of Naval service.”

Linton felt a small warmth deep down within him as the cold knot of an old wound dissolved.

Wilm Bardry lit a cigaret and slouched back, legs dang­ling, in one of the capacious deck chairs.

“Sometimes it takes a government a long time to dis­cover an error in policy, or of omission. But, by and large, these errors are discovered—and, usually, I think, corrected.”

Raul smiled a little.

“Perhaps you’re right ...”

Hallen said, earnestly: “No government is perfect, but we all try. Sometimes the wrong man gets in, as Pertinax got in, but we find out what kind of stuff he’s made of sooner or later, and he gets taken care of in time—as we’re going to take care of Pertinax. And Mather, by the way. And speaking of that, now that the job of Border Adminis­trator is vacant—or will be just as soon as I get back to Omphale—I think I have just the right man for the job.”

“Who?” Linton inquired.

“You,” Brice Hallen grinned. “Of course, you’ll probably err as much as Mather did—but in the other direction, for a change. You’ll be too much for the natives, instead of against them as Mather was, but—hell—it’ll be an interesting change, and maybe it’ll work. Mather’s ‘keep-them-diseased-ignorant-and-illiterate’ policy seems to have failed on all counts—and it almost resulted in a very dangerous and des­tructive little war that could have raised half the Border worlds against us. So maybe we’ll try the other tack for a while, and see how that method works out. One things sure, after this little fracas on Ophmar, you’ll have every native in the Cluster squarely on your side, solidly behind you, ready to go along with anything you suggest.”

Raul cleared his throat a little.

“Well, Administrator. It’s an interesting offer—and I may accept you on it, later. But right now, I still have a job— as commanding officer of the Kahani’s forces down there. And I’ve got to finish up that piece of uncompleted business, before I can think about anything else.”

“I’m reading you,” Hallen said. “Go ahead. I take it you wish to formally surrender?”

Linton nodded stiffly.

“Yes, sir. But my surrender depends on three conditions.” Hallen exchanged a long look with Wilm Bardry, who was grinning as he smoked.

“All right. Let’s hear ’em,” Hallen said curtly.

“Condition one,” Raul said. “The government to dismiss charges—all charges, of whatever nature—against the en­tirety of the Kahani’s troops and followers. And that goes for her and for myself, as well. I want a clear board for every man and woman down there. Full pardon for every­body, exile, outlaw, criminal, the works. After all, they didn’t do anything more than think about waging war against the Cluster government. And the only thing they are guilty of actually doing, is making a decisive and final end to the Arthon of Pelaire and his attempt to invade Hercules.”

“I’ll buy that. Granted—full amnesty for everybody,” Hallen nodded. “And remind me later, Wilm, we’re got to carry those Pelairi prisoners back to their planet and make sure what’s left of that fleet doesn’t trouble us again.”

“Right, Brice.”

“All right, Linton. Next condition?”

Raul ticked it off on his fingers.

“The Kahani to be reinstalled as monarch of Valadon, with full hereditary rights and powers for life, and for her heirs forever.”

“Yes, I guess she’s earned that,” Hallen grumbled, “but what in space am I supposed to do with the present in­cumbent—what’s his name, Lord Hastril—line him up against the wall and coagulate him?”

Wilm interjected an idea lazily.

“Brice, whyn’t you pop him into this fancy palace-type prison you’ve got fixed up on Omphale to hold bothersome and unwanted royalty and pretenders and such-like—you know, the ones you want to keep out of trouble and under your eye?”

Hallen chewed his thumb thoughtfully.

“Kerrisam Palace? Not a bad idea, Wilm. Poetic jus­tice, too—that’s where I was going to put the Kahani when­ever I caught her. All right, Linton: agreed.”

“Then the third and last condition: Valadon to be re­moved from the jurisdiction of your government and created an independent planetary kingdom. That way, nobody can say a word if we—if she—wants to make improvements. Understand? A clear board for the works: roads, bridges, hospitals, schools, industries, whatever. She has plans to make Valadon one of the most advanced kingdoms on the Border, and wants no interference from the Provincial Gov­ernment.”

Hallen speared him with an eagle glance.

“We’—eh? Hmm. She’s a good-looking girl, isn’t she?” he asked. And noted Raul’s crimsoning face.

He heaved a small sigh.

“Ah, to be young again! Well, Linton, I grant you the whole program. All three conditions will be scrupulously observed. And what’s more, I’ll even give the bride away!” Raul flushed, if possible, even more crimson.

“The—‘bride’—sir?”

“Certainly, you damn fool!” Hallen chuckled. “Any idiot could see at a glance you’re hopelessly in love. What’s the matter—haven’t you even asked her, yet?”

“I—don’t quite—you misunderstand, sir—I—”

They let him fumble and stumble on for a bit, and then Wilm said: “Bet I know what’s wrong, Brice. That old ideal­istic conscience cropping up again. Here he is, a homeless, landless, penniless space-bum. And there she is, the fabu­lously wealthy absolute monarch of an entire planetary king­dom. How could he hope to get up nerve enough to pro­pose to the girl, having nothing to bring to the marriage but what he stands up in?”

Wilm started laughing good-naturedly, and Brice Hallen joined in. Raul endured it for a while, and then started to get angry.

“I don’t see anything so comical about that! As a matter of fact, that’s precisely what has kept me from offering her marriage! Do you think I want her to class me with the for­tune hunting, title-hunting bunch of suitors she has hang­ing around her right now? I want her to respect me!”

“She’ll respect you a damn lot more if you’d speak up like a man and demand her hand because you happen to love her—instead of being so kaking stiff and noble and courageous about suffering. I tell you what, better yet, don’t speak at all! Just walk in and grab her and give her a kiss that curls her hair for her! Action’s better than talk, any­time!” Hallen advised.

Raul made no reply, because he could think of nothing adequate to say. He made ready to leave, but Hallen stopped him with a lifted hand.

“All right now, hang on, boy. I’d been wondering when I’d find the right stop to give you my news, and this looks like it. I’ve been on the beam all morning with this business of the Arthon and the Kahani and you—talking to the First Lord on Meridian. The Emperor’s very interested in the whole mess, and very relieved it’s settled. Yes, I spoke to His Magnificence personally. He’s quite grateful for your services—I told him the whole story, just as Wilm radioed it to me as we arrived. And, here”—he fumbled in his belt-pouch— “this is for you.”

He removed a long loop of rich scarlet ribbon from the pouch and hung it gently around Linton’s throat.

Raul fingered it blankly, healing the blood roar in his ears. Dimly, as if from a great distance, he heard the Pro­vincial Administrator say:

“The real thing, complete with the bronze medallion in­scribed with your planetary sigil, will be arriving by special courier boat in a day or two—brought by a herald, in fact, by hand. But I scrounged up this, which will do for the moment. And I’d sincerely like the honor of being the very first to congratulate you—Lord Barnassa!”

Raul shook hands with Hallen, and then with a joyful and enthusiastic Wilm Bardry.

“And don’t forget what I said, my lord I Don’t do any talking—just grab her and give her a kiss to remember. Then tell her you love her. Remember, now!”

And when he released her, and she had recovered her breath, Innald said, faintly:

“But why did my lord never tell me before how he felt about me? Surely you knew I loved you from the first, when I saw you standing there all flustered, and angry, and flaming abound the ears with embarrassment!”

Raul kissed her again and then held her close. She was very, very small, and her cheek fitted into the curve of his shoulder as if it had been cunningly designed to fit. And perhaps it had ….

“But I have never before met the man whom I could love, no, truly! Not my late husband (may the Seven bring him bliss!), not the Lord Zarkandu (who desired me, al­though I desired him not at all)—no one, until you!” Then, in a very small, low-voice: “Will my lord tell me once again of gentility, how much he loves me?”

“Hush, ylarna,” he said softly, “hush, my sweet one! I love thee more than honor, more than life itself!”

“Then I am very, very happy!”

As is only fitting, with all the experience and know-how of a veteran government official, Brice Hallen’s advice worked like a charm.