Back | Next
Contents

2

"It would be better if you would let me die," said Thunghalis; he steadfastly refused to answer to his civinymic or his rank. "That I should live and see the gauntlet fall!" He had lamented these two things for the last several hours. It was very late; on Neo Biscay the days were a little more than twenty-nine Standard Hours long, and the Harriers were feeling the difference. The Adjusted Hour clocks all seemed to mock them, claiming it was only two-twenty. In the staff room of the Yngmoto most of those questioning Thunghalis were finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake.

"No, it wouldn't be better for you to die," said Group Leader Perzda in her levelheaded way. "Unless you want to leave your Comes exposed to his enemies and I promise you he is exposed. Your system exposes him." She leaned back in her chair. "Tonight's entertainment was just a warning, you realize? Something to put you on notice. You were made to see how easily the enemy can reach you and how little you can do to stop them. Next time the danger will be greater for the Comes and for everyone around here. Without your help, he might as well surrender now and save his—"

"Surrender? He is the Most Excellent Comes. To whom would the Comes Riton surrender?" Thunghalis scoffed desperately.

"Why, to his alternate, of course. They are both Comes Riton, and their claims are of equal merit. They are both authenticable clones. From what you have said, the alternate exists to take the place of the Comes should any misfortune befall him in his youth." Perzda sounded more bored than tired.

"But that is unacceptable. It has never happened. All alternates have been devivified when the Comes Riton inherits. Thunghalis stared from one of the Harriers to another. "What you suggest is . . . absurd."

"And how would you know for certain? The clones are indistinguishable one from another. Though this clone was kidnapped when he was very young, he is still legitimately the Comes Riton as much as your leader is." Jarrick Riven looked once at the Mromrosi and shook his head. "How would you handle this mess?"

"It is for you to handle it, not I: I am an observer," said the Mromrosi.

Perzda took up the argument again. "No man sworn to follow the Comes Riton could touch his clone without dishonoring himself—that's what you've said, isn't it? It would be treason to defend the Comes Riton against any clone of the Comes Riton. So who is to stand between the Most Excellent Comes and his alternate? We Petit Harriers? Is that why we were sent for?"

"Of course," said Thunghalis, turning sullen. "We are sworn to protect the Comes Riton." He frowned. "The alternate must be devivified. That should have been arranged years ago.

"The Comes Riton . . ." He hesitated. "But it wasn't settled properly when the alternate was taken."

"And the alternate is still out there, with the same personality and leadership as your current Comes," said Riven. "You have two Comes Ritons, haven't you?"

"In point of fact," said Perzda thoughtfully, "they probably do not have the same personalities, not quite. The alternate was not raised and educated with the current phase, and what he has been taught and the life he has led is still unknown to us. We need to establish contact with these Other Colonists to find out what became of the alternate clone. That's first. Then we can figure out how to go from there." She glanced over at the Mromrosi.

"Anything you want to add?"

"What you are saying is fair," the Mromrosi replied, and was rewarded with a shocked stare from Thunghalis. "Permit me to observe that your methods of selecting your leader, Gate Breaker, by failing to anticipate a time when two clones might be rivals for the position of Comes, have created the current dangerous impasse. I advise against such arrangements."

"Why do you listen to . . . that?" Thunghalis demanded, pointing at the Mromrosi, his voice rising.

"Because he is here to observe, and the Magnicate Alliance often works in conjunction with the Emerging Planet Fairness Court," said Haakogard, not wanting to have to explain anything more.

"What could something like that observe?" Thunghalis attempted to hide his shock but was not wholly successful. "It—"

"He, or so he says," Haakogard interjected.

"He. How can something like that comprehend what humans do?" Thunghalis set his jaw.

"We comprehend many things, many interesting things, things done by those much odder than humans are," answered the Mromrosi with a faint show of what Haakogard now recognized as amusement. He changed from candy-pink to anticamouflage orange. "Surely you did not think that everyone in the galaxy came from Old Earth, did you? Or was human?"

"No," Thunghalis lied; he watched the Harriers for some hint on how to behave toward this peculiar being.

The Mromrosi went silent but continued bright orange; Haakogard suspected the Mromrosi was laughing.

"All right then; we'll have to make contact with these Other Colonists," Haakogard said to Thunghalis. "We have to know what the stakes are if we support you. We'll have to decide if we ought to support you. The Alliance has guidelines, and we have to hold to them." It was not entirely true: the Grand Harriers were bound by convention and protocol, politics, glory and diplomatic ritual. The Petits had less prestige, fewer restraints, and much more interesting assignments than their exalted upper regiment.

"I suppose I will have to accept that," said Thunghalis, not seeming very pleased with what Haakogard said.

"So where do we start?" Haakogard made a point of asking Communications Leader Alrou Malise. He wanted to encourage Thunghalis to speak without overtly questioning him; if Thunghalis would only correct him, he could learn a great deal. "I assume both sides are armed."

Thunghalis coughed. "The Other Colonists have sticks and stones and bows and arrows. There is little they can do to harm us."

"Well," said Haakogard carefully, "they managed quite well with animals. They must have other skills as well. We'll accept that both sides are prepared to fight. Do you think we can make contact without combat?" He did not wait for Thunghalis to claim this was ridiculous; his attention was directly on Malise.

"I think maybe the Mromrosi's right," Malise said. "This whole system is eating its tail. I don't think we can assume anything until we learn something about the Other Colonists directly. If we can speak to the alternate clone, so much the better. We shouldn't accept the Comes Riton's explanations without question." He pinched the bridge of his long nose. "Tomorrow I'll think more clearly."

"What a subtle hint!" Navigator Zim marveled. She had had little to say since they returned from the disastrous banquet. "Not that I don't agree. I'm exhausted."

Haakogard leaned back, trying hard not to yawn. They were right, it was very late and they were all tired. "All right; that's it for now," he said. "Thunghalis will have Guest Cabin number two; make sure he has a Bunter. No after-watch games tonight. I'll expect to see you at nine S. A. Any objections?''

"Everyone? All four ships?" asked Group Line Chief Dachnor.

"Yes, everyone," said Haakogard.

Group Line Chief Fennin made a disapproving noise.

Dachnor was about to join this protest, then he grinned. "We'll be here. We'll be asleep, but we'll be here." He rose, stretching without apology. "Fennin will, too. I'll have all the sentry stands operational by then."

"How many did you deploy?" asked Group Leader Perzda, who knew how many there were because she had ordered them.

"Fourteen," said Dachnor at once. "We'll have them running by eight S. H." He regarded Thunghalis carefully. "What happens if this alternate Comes Riton attacks Civuto poMoend?"

Thunghalis made a gesture of hopelessness. "If we know that it is the alternate, there is nothing we will be able to do in honor. We are sworn never to attack the Comes Riton in any of his phases, and that must include the alternate. To oppose him is unthinkable."

The Mromrosi went from orange to a pale, strawlike yellow.

"Nuh-huh," said Haakogard.

By ten S. A. it was agreed that Communications Leader Malise and Navigator Zim would be the ones to approach the Other Colonists. They were closeted at once with Thunghalis to be filled in on the immediate past of Neo Biscay, especially what little was known about the kidnapping of the alternate clone.

"You have to remember it was Syclicis," Thunghalis was saying, "who caused all the trouble, stealing the clone to be her child. If she had not taken the alternate, none of this would have happened. At the time she announced what she had done she was already safely into the hills. Forces were sent out to try to recover the alternate, but in those crags, the Other Colonists have the advantage over us, and they escaped with Syclicis at their head. She claimed that she was descended from the leaders of the Other Colonization and would be a ruler herself if the first phase of the Comes Riton had not destroyed the strongholds of her clan when the Second Colony arrived. But what else can you expect of one of the Other Colonists? To hear them speak, all of them are the children of rulers and high-ranking officials. You would think that there was never a peasant or a farmer among them. They claim we forced them to become what they are, but how could we?" He slapped his enormous hands down flat on the conference table. "She stole the alternate because she said she was entitled to him."

"You mentioned they have no cities, only scattered towns and moving camps," said Zim. "Is it because your Colony wiped out their cities as the Other Colonists have claimed in the past?"

"Of course not. Any cities they may have had were on the Low Continent and we had nothing to do with their destruction. Don't be obtuse. These people are not capable of building a city, let alone defending it and maintaining it." Thunghalis' patience was growing thin. "They live in small camps. They move around as their whim suits them. They are as wild as the beasts they tame. They've always been like this, and if you ask me, they were this way from the start."

"And that makes them hard to catch?" Zim suggested, expecting no answer.

"They are not being hunted; there is no reason for them to live as they do but that it is their wish to be vagabonds." He was growing uncomfortable. "We offered to assist them at first, but all our overtures were rejected."

Zim appeared not to notice as she pressed on, a speculative light in her dark eyes. "And yet last night I heard three different references to the great lost city of the Other Colony. Why is that, if they have no cities?"

"There are always myths," said Thunghalis, and attempted to change the subject. "Do you think it was Other Colonists who tried to attack you as you arrived yesterday afternoon? It was not—"

"I think," said Malise, giving Zim the opportunity to muster her questions again, "that legends and myths are often based on fact. I think that for the First Colony to survive at all they had to find ways to protect themselves, and that probably means a city or a town, or more than one city or town. Your group of colonists did that when they arrived, didn't they? The history we were zapped said that there were seven thousand colonists in the First Colonization, enough for one or two fortress towns. They had supplies enough for one." He cocked his head. "My home world is a lot like Neo Biscay, and we've got many hill fortresses. You're a soldier; you understand these things. And your Second Colonization started out with twelve thousand colonists and four walled cities. Isn't poMoend the smallest of them?"

Thunghalis was not willing to concede the point. "Only seven thousand people would vanish amid these crags. All they are is feuding clans, consumed with internal rivalries. All the clans practice free-breeding, and there's no record kept of consanguinity. They live in chaos."

"Chaos protects them, though, doesn't it, by making them hard to identify." Malise smiled with false sympathy.

"Speaking of identity," said Zim, "is there anything known about Syclicis, other than that she kidnapped the alternate? Is she alive or dead?"

"Who knows?" asked Thunghalis as if bored. "There are rumors that she had died; she would be very old if she has not. Occasionally there are rumors she is still alive, but no proof. Since the Other Colonists have no clones, we have thought she must be dead."

"Unfortunate," said Navigator Zim. She stood up. Her uniform was utilitarian and austere but that in no way diminished her beauty. "Is there someone who it would be helpful to seek out, if not Syclicis?"

"Well," said Thunghalis shortly, no longer cooperative, "you might speak to the alternate."

She gave him the full benefit of her smile. "Yes. That is what we intend to do."

As soon as the scooter was set down and secured, a dozen men surrounded it, each one armed with primitive weapons; they were somewhat taller than their Civuto poMoend equivalents and were certainly much poorer. Most of them had long hair clubbed at the backs of their necks, and all wore beards. Their clothes were made of homespun cloth and ground-cured leather.

"We're officers of the Magnicate Alliance Second Harriers, called the Petits," said Navigator Zim, adjusting her translator so that the announcement would carry. "We have been sent here by the Magnicate Alliance to answer a complaint. We want to talk to you. Are you willing to speak with us?"

The men surrounding her kept her under close guard, three of them moving near enough to make their pikes a threat. They listened intently to the mechanical voice, and made signs to one another as Navigator Zim continued to explain the purpose of their presence on Neo Biscay.

"We need your help to locate this missing clone. We guarantee your protection, and we will not judge anyone until all the facts are known. We cannot finish here until the clone has been located and the entire dispute resolved. That is what our leader has promised to do. If this clone is making a claim on the Comes, we will do what we can to settle the question. If he is not interested in the title, then we will make sure the Second Colonists understand; so that there will be no further conflicts between you, and neither group will have to suffer."

A steel-haired man with scarred hands stepped forward, raising his mace-and-chain. He swung the weapon suggestively, smiling at the crinkling sound it made. "Prove it," he said via the translator.

"Fight to prove our good and peaceful intent?" Zim asked, although she had already palmed her stunner. "Isn't that at cross-purposes?"

"You are soldiers in a regiment: you fight," said the man with happy anticipation.

"You should meet our Executive Officer Tallis; you're of a piece," whispered Malise.

Nola Zim sighed as she turned to face him. "The two of us, then, no matter which way it goes?"

"On my honor," said the man, and swung his mace-and-chain, enjoying the deadly sound it made as it cleaved the air. "I am an honorable man. I fight for my leader as he requires me to fight, to uphold his honor. You need not fear; I understand the conduct of honorable combat. I will not offend you by unfair fighting."

"You won't object if we take a few precautions?" Malise drew a more impressive and obvious weapon, a shoulder-cannon; he rested it in firing position but did not aim it at anyone.

"It isn't necessary; you will see it is not." He held out his weapon. "Let us engage." The man with the mace-and-chain was clearly an experienced fighter. He moved carefully, never letting himself get off-balance. He shuffled rather than strode, he crouched and kept his upper body weaving as he waited for an opportunity. He presented as small a target as he could and still fight, giving himself a better chance at her. He swiped out with the mace-and-chain again, this time coming close enough to Zim that she was forced to jump back.

She held her stunner carefully, aiming for the legs. All she needed to do was knock him off his feet and she would be all right. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was kill or maim him, though with a stunner that would be ridiculously easy. Her jaw ached with tension.

He changed his tactics suddenly, bringing the mace-and-chain down, then rising up, his weapon striking upward, nearly clipping her shoulder. He took care not to aim for her head.

"All right," she said, and before he could lower his arm, she aimed her stunner at the arm holding the mace-and-chain. As she thumbed the charge button, the man shrieked, his weapon falling from unresponsive fingers. "Enough?" she asked.

For an answer he rushed at her, his undamaged arm upraised and his face dark with rage.

She thumbed the charge again—the man bucked at the impact of stun, and this time he collapsed unconscious.

"Anyone else?" Zim asked, the stunner still in her hand. She was trying to bring her breathing back to normal but without much success.

One of the men stepped forward, a figure somewhat taller than the Comes Riton; with a full-sunbleached beard and skin roughened by living in the open, he did not appear much like the Comes Riton, but when he spoke, the voice was unmistakably beautiful. "You have great courage, and you have shown honor as well as restraint. What do you want to know of me?" he asked, his sand-colored eyes intent on her.

Navigator Zim motioned to Malise to let her deal with the man. "The Comes Riton?" she asked, realizing she was on very uncertain ground.

"Syclicis' son," he corrected her. "I suppose Riton doesn't see it that way, though?" He permitted those with him to laugh a little before he continued. "I have nothing against my clone. How could I? It would mean I have something against myself."

"You haven't discovered any reason to resent him?'' Communications Leader Malise asked dubiously.

"Not the way you mean. We're clones, each is the other. He is as much my clone as I am his, since we are buds of the same source. We were vivified at the same time. It was never decided that I had fulfilled my purpose; I was gone long before then. Until we were almost four, he and I, we lived in the palace of poMoend. He still lives there, but I have been more fortunate." He shouldered his pike and indicated that his men should do the same. "I have lived for myself and not for where the cloning began. I am not the Comes Riton, master of poMoend, I am a trainer of animals and I live where camp is made. But I am a man of honor. I uphold the honor of my line."

"How do you mean that?" Zim asked.

"I would not dishonor myself and my lines with unworthy conduct." He indicated his fallen fighter. "You saw yourself that he served me honorably."

"He lost," said Zim.

"Of course he lost. To win would have dishonored me, and he would never do that." The Comes Riton's clone stared at Zim as if she were ignoring the obvious.

"You had him fight in order to lose," she said, taking care to keep her tone of voice level. "It was your intention to have him lose."

"What else could he do in honor? He could not refuse to fight, for that would dishonor you and me. He could not win, for that would be a greater disgrace." The Comes Riton's clone made an imperious gesture that was very like his other self. "How could you think I would be so lost to honor that I would countenance his winning against you? I am no savage or barbarian."

Malise nodded as if it all made sense to him. "Not fighting was dishonorable but winning was more dishonorable." He shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Malise," Zim warned, hearing the sarcasm in his voice.

"The same kind of sense as not having guards at the banquet because it would mean that the poMoend fighters assumed that the animal trainers were capable of fighting them. It's all the same screwy logic."

At the mention of that encounter the Comes Riton's clone's expression changed slightly. "Yes. The banquet. I saw you at the banquet. You were the most fascinating woman there, and the loveliest." He all but devoured Zim with his sand-colored eyes.

"'How could you see me at—" She cut herself short. "You were with the animal trainers."

"That is my trade, and I am one of the finest," said Syclicis' son without false modesty, sounding a great deal like the Comes Riton version of himself. "Ask anyone: I have an enviable reputation; I have more success than most."

"But not the other evening?" Zim suggested.

"It was a misfortune. Quite lamentable. Very nearly a disgrace. We did not intend it to happen." There was no indication that he was lying, but the sudden flatness of his tone was disturbing.

"A coincidence?" Malise said incredulously.

The man who had fought Zim stirred and moaned.

"Would you call your performance at the banquet successful?" Zim challenged the Comes Riton's clone.

He stared at a distant point over her left shoulder. "I am distressed that I did not keep control of my animals," he said, not quite able to conceal a glimmer of satisfaction. "As a trainer, I take pride in the behavior of my animals." He laughed once. "Perhaps you will be able to watch another time, when you will see how adept I can be with them."

"You're confident of that?" Malise asked, then indicated the men with Syclicis' son. "Were you looking for animals to replace the ones you have lost? Or were you hunting?"

"No," said the clone, unperturbed. "We were watching for the soldiers from poMoend."

"What soldiers?" asked Malise. "I thought soldiers were dishonorable. We have been informed that—"

"You don't think that they tell those over-bred curs who serve at court what the army is doing, do you?" The clone's smile bordered on a snarl. "They're as remote from us as the Comes Riton is." He turned toward Zim again, as if she were north and he a magnet. "Not my clone, and not his close associates; they are puppets. But there are many just below them, the second rank of the court, who hold the real power. They use it without honor. The rest is nothing more than posing and tradition. That was one of the first truths I discovered when Syclicis brought me into these mountains." He took a few steps back, then came up to Zim once more. "Among these people . . . they call me Tenre."

"Not Riton?" she asked, deliberately making the question light.

"No. Never Riton." He made a sign to the others but spoke directly to her. "Go about your work, then, but if any soldiers follow after you, dishonorably seeking to kill us, I will not die and I will hold you and all the Harriers responsible for any deaths."

"Oh, not all the Harriers," said Zim. "Just the Petits."

Haakogard read the latest zaps for the third time and then stared up at the ceiling of the small parlor. Why did they never tell him how complicated things were until he got there? He remembered the benign smile on Fleet Commodore Herd's wizened features as the crafty old man gave him his orders and assured him that this venture would be a simple task, done quickly and without undue risk. "Would you like something to relax you, Mister Haakogard?" his Bunter inquired.

He glanced over his shoulder at the cyborg, trying to stifle the annoyance he felt at the interruption, though he knew the Bunter was responding to his monitored requirements. "Did you know there was a time when Bunters were called Butlers? I recall reading that when I was a boy."

"Butler is a pejorative for Bunter," said his Bunter without inflection. "It comes from Old Earth."

"No offense intended," said Haakogard quickly, knowing that the delicate tuning on these machines often made them touchy. "Just something I came across once, and the clerk sending the zaps signed off as Butler. Jogged my brain." He tossed the pages into the low table. "Don't recycle those yet; I need to review them, and I don't want them put into the system—we don't want Thunghalis or anyone else here retrieving them by accident." He stretched his long legs and got to his feet.

The Bunter tried again. "Would you like something to—"

"Relax me? I don't think so," he said, then changed his mind. "On second thought, bring me a small glass of that Standby Hooch. Warmed."

"A small glass of warmed Standby Hooch," the Bunter confirmed. It left the room at once, looking almost human in size and proportion—except for the four telescoping arms. By the time it returned, Haakogard was in his study, a stack of tutorials by his terminal. He looked up at the Bunter's discreet low two-note signal and motioned it to approach.

"Your Standby Hooch, sir; and the Mromrosi wishes to see you," said the Bunter as he held out the glass on an antique silver tray that had come from the stuffiest of the First Fifty-Six Colonies Victoria Station.

"Thank you," said Haakogard, and the words appeared on the opposite wall. "Erase that," he told the wall.

"What shall I tell the Mromrosi?" the Bunter inquired politely. Bunters did everything politely.

Haakogard sighed and shut down the terminal. "Send him in. I need to talk to him anyway." He leaned back in his chair as the Bunter left and contemplated the ceiling with a supreme blankness of expression until the Mromrosi toddled through the door. "Have a seat if you want one," Haakogard offered.

The Mromrosi selected one of the chairs to lean against. He was a very pale beige and his single eye, enormous, green as sunlight coming through new leaves, appeared brighter by contrast. "What have you decided?" he asked without preamble.

"I haven't decided anything," said Haakogard. "Except that we haven't enough information about this place. The response from the Hub was premature, at least in my estimation. Commodore Herd gave his assurances to the Comes Riton, but I don't think he knew what was at stake here." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "For that matter, neither do we."

"A very exact thing," said the Mromrosi, a little blush suffusing his massive ringlets.

"How the devil did these people get it into their heads that cloning was the answer to leadership? And the elaborate codes they have regarding the clones, and all honor tied up in it." He slapped his hands down on the arms of his chair. "Maybe the first Comes Riton thought it was a good idea that his entire armed forces take an oath never to attack him in any form, but look at the mess it's causing now. And it's lucky that it's only happened once. What if rival factions at court got hold of one clone apiece and each side insisted that theirs was the true clone? They couldn't actually fight about it, could they? That would mean dishonor, wouldn't it. So they would have to resort to covert actions." He glanced toward the Mromrosi. "For all we know, that's going on right now, and there are people in this government who are working on the sly."

"I do not think so," said the Mromrosi. "Why would they bother to contact the Hub and ask the Petits to assist them if that were the case?" He gestured with three of his legs, making a complicated, invisible pattern that Haakogard did not understand. "They did not bother to contact the capital, but came directly to the Magnicate Alliance. Surely that is significant."

"It means they don't trust anyone in Bilau," said Haakogard. "Nothing new in that. The provinces often distrust the capitals."

"But for what cause?" asked the Mromrosi. "Why would that be a factor in what seems a fairly simple case of a family dispute? Surely the courts of Bilau are more prepared to appreciate the difficulties than the Petits are." He bounced several times. "Yes, there are factors here that are hidden."

Haakogard bit back a sharp retort. "What about the Emerging Planet Fairness Court? Is this a case where you would . . . advise them?"

"It is not the issue. This is a strictly planetary crisis, and we have no mandate in these cases. Our interests lie elsewhere." He made a low, rough sound, not quite a growl, not quite a hum. He did not change color.

"Well, whether it's in your jurisdiction or not, if you get any good ideas, I hope you'll pass them on to me," said Haakogard, feeling rather weary. "I haven't got a clue about it yet."

"There is time still. More information is needed," said the Mromrosi, shaking himself. "If the Wammgalloz were with you, instead of me, they might perceive the solution more quickly."

Haakogard shuddered at the thought. "No, thank you." He had never become used to the sight of the Wammgalloz, enormously tall aliens, known for their tremendous intellects and solid judgment. To Haakogard—and to most humans—the Wammgalloz looked too much like tremendous predatory insects; to the Wammgalloz, humans appeared undeveloped and deformed, and they smelled atrocious. Both humans and Wammgalloz avoided each other except when the congresses of the Emerging Planet Fairness Court required they meet.

"That is what the Wammgalloz think, too," said the Mromrosi with a trace of amusement.

"Most of the EPFC are pretty hard to take, for us," Haakogard added. "You're different."

"Fortunately," said the Mromrosi, and skibbled toward the door. "By the way, I have received word that a small unit of Grands are scheduled to stop in Bilau very soon."

This caught all Haakogard's attention. "What?" he asked, sitting upright.

"That is what I have been informed, through the Court." He faded to a soft peach shade. "I thought it strange that you have not been notified. Unless you have been?"

"No," said Haakogard, his eyes darkening. He cursed inwardly. Had the Commodore decided to intervene after all?

"Perhaps it has nothing to do with your mission," the Mromrosi suggested.

"And perhaps Spica's going nova tomorrow," said Haakogard. Reluctantly he added, "Thanks for letting me know."

"It is part of my task here," said the Mromrosi, and slipped out the door.

A small unit of Grands were coming to Bilau: Haakogard turned this over in his thoughts but could discern no reason for it, which made him more apprehensive than ever. The Grands never did anything by chance. Commodore Herd had hinted it might be necessary to send the Grands, but he had not said why. Haakogard wanted to know more about it, but knew he could not zap the Hub for information, since he had not officially been told of the event. "And who's to say they'd tell me the truth?" he asked the air. Better to concentrate on his immediate problems here, he told himself. Maybe the Mromrosi would be able to keep him informed about the Grands.

He took the tutorial cassette out of the feeder and slipped in another one: the history of the settlement of Neo Biscay. The most nagging piece of information which had been repeated in three of the four tutorials he had examined was that the First colonization would have numbered among the First Fifty-Six if they had been able to establish and maintain contact with any of the other Colonies. As it was, they were occasionally able to reach Old Earth, but by that time the planet was little more than a museum and a tourist attraction, and Neo Biscay was officially forgotten. The arrival of the N'djowul had ended the isolation, but not for the better. And by the time the N'djowul were gone, the Second Colonization arrived. Was the First Colonization truly part of the First Fifty-Six, as the records of Old Earth suggested? "Support for this theory?" Haakogard asked when he had reviewed all the tutorials.

"The names of the two ships were recorded when the Ninety went out," the screen answered, words appearing on its surface as it spoke. "Of the five artifacts brought here for identification in case the colony did not survive, four are still in the hands of the Other Colonists."

"So, strictly speaking, we ought to be the representatives of the First colony and not the Second," Haakogard mused. "I wonder if Fleet Commodore Herd knows this? Would the arrival of the Grands support the First or Second Colonization?"

"This tutorial is not equipped to advise you," said the wall screen as Haakogard took a long, slow swig of his Standby Hooch.

Trumpets and gongs announced the arrival of the Comes Riton at the four Katana-class Skimmers, and three men demanded that the Most Excellent Comes be admitted to the company of Mere Line Commander Haakogard.

"They'll keep up the noise until you see them," Group Leader Perzda warned him. "And the longer you take, the louder they'll get, at least that's what my tutorials say." She hesitated. "You could deputize one of us—perhaps Zim?"

There were hoots of approval at that suggestion.

Haakogard looked at her across the conference table, his hand lifted in admonition. "No-no-no, Viridis. She's got them riled up already." He signaled to his Bunter, which waited on the far side of the conference room. "I need one of my parade uniforms, but not a full dress one. Ask the Senior Bunter to make the selection. He'll know which one is right."

"You're going outside, then?" Group Leader Perzda inquired critically. "Don't you think that might be a bit dangerous?"

"It's more dangerous staying inside. These Neo Biscayans, or whatever you call them, have hot fuses." He reached for the all-deck announcer. "This is Line Commander Haakogard. I want Dachnor, Fennin, and Chanliz to meet me in proper parade dress in half one Standard Hour in the center of the formation. Other members of the crew stand by, parade dress optional. Pangbar Thunghalis, please remain in your quarters unless the Senior Bunter advises you otherwise. Observer Mromrosi is welcome to come with us."

A voice came from the outlet beside him. "I will venture this," the Mromrosi informed him.

"Good," said Haakogard, knowing that the alien would serve to distract the Comes Riton and his men.

"Clever. They're still trying to figure out what the Mromrosi is," said Perzda.

"Aren't we all?" Haakogard interjected.

She ignored this. "But once they get used to him, I will wager that the Comes Riton will be looking for Zim again. He's captivated by her. It's the blue hair." She chuckled; her chuckle was one of the few things about her that did not seem ordinary—she sounded like a very large and lazy cat purring.

"Was it a mistake to use her? I didn't anticipate this infatuation," Haakogard mused aloud.

"Who knows?" said Perzda. She saw the Bunter returning. "I'll let you get dressed. We'll review later." Without waiting for his dismissal, she left the conference room.

By the time Haakogard emerged from his quarters, parade-perfect, the jangle and blare of the Comes Riton's military band had become loud enough that he knew he would have to use his ship's hailer to be heard over the noise. He stood at his command couch in the bridge and watched the surveill screens.

The Comes Riton was accompanied by thirty musicians and eighty-eight soldiers. If they were going to have to fight, thought Haakogard, the odds were bad. "Tallis," he said to his Executive Officer, "I want you to keep an eye on the surveill screens at all times. Pay special attention to those monitoring the perimeters. We'll need warning if anything is happening out there."

Mawson Tallis offered a halfhearted salute. "I'd rather be out there with you, just in case."

Haakogard was familiar with the complaint. "Be glad you're not. And while you're in here, keep your fingers off the triggers. We're supposed to be helping these people. We've been sent to assist them." As he said it, he could not conceal the uncertainty that had been with him since his arrival on Neo Biscay.

"But if they're armed . . ." Tallis protested, his eyes growing brighter with anticipation. "I've got to protect you first of all."

"No," Haakogard corrected him patiently, "you have to protect the mission first of all." He watched while Tallis considered this, then went on. "We are here because the Twelve sent us here." In the Magnicate Alliance there was no higher authority, and Tallis flushed at the name.

"What do the Twelve care about Neo Biscay?" he challenged, glowering.

"I can't imagine," said Haakogard. "But I was given my orders by Fleet Commodore Herd himself, and he answers only to the Twelve. So. . ." He pressed the inter-ship hailer. "Are you ready?"

The three Group Line Chiefs responded in unison.

"Then let's get it done." Haakogard drew on his pale gray gloves. "And Tallis, remember: nothing hasty."

The Comes Riton was clearly offended by the long delay, and as he approached Haakogard, he said, "I am not used to such a reception. I have never needed to wait as you have required me to wait." His beautiful voice carried over the racket his band was making.

Haakogard and his three Group Line Chiefs stood the proper distance away from the Most Excellent Comes. "Sadly," shouted Haakogard so that he could be heard over the din, "since we were not informed you were coming, we had no opportunity to prepare ourselves for your visit, and as a result could not welcome you as you arrived."

"Ridiculous!" jeered the Comes Riton, but not as confidently as before. He paused, then signaled his musicians to stop. The silence was so abrupt that it was nearly as intrusive as the music had been. "But I will excuse your execrable behavior because you are strangers and you have upheld my honor."

"We have done as Petit Harriers do, Comes Riton," said Haakogard, deliberately leaving off Most Excellent; he was rewarded with a hard stare. "We are sworn to the Magnicate Alliance, not to you. If there is ever any dispute between you and the Alliance, we are Alliance troops, not poMoend's and—"

"That is enough!" The Comes Riton was very angry and his sand-colored eyes had an implacable yellow shine to them. "I will hear nothing more of this!" He gestured to some of his officers and weapons appeared in their hands.

Haakogard fell silent, still.

The men with the Comes Riton were restive now, and a few of the musicians were so nervous that they could not keep quiet.

The Comes Riton paced back and forth in front of Haakogard, his expression more and more forbidding. At last he stopped and pointed directly at the Line Commander. "Where is Zim?" he demanded.

"At her work," said Haakogard mildly. "She has readings to enter in the permanent log of the mission. They must be made at specific times every day. Each member of the crew has such obligations." It was a convenient fiction used on missions, and the officers with him supported the lie now.

"That's the truth," said Section Leader Jarrick Riven mendaciously. "If these readings are not entered regularly, the Alliance ships will come to find out why they have not been made." He grinned mirthlessly. "They will assume there has been trouble and they will be prepared to fight."

"I wish to see Nola Zim," the Comes Riton said, making it a command. "She interests me."

Standing behind the Petit Harriers, Thunghalis paled and stared at the Comes Riton as if the man were suddenly a complete stranger to him.

"Oh, really," said Group Leader Perzda with feigned amazement. "You arrive with an army and then you say she interests you." She shook her head as if watching an ambitious child attempting a task beyond his skill. "She is doing her sworn duty, Most Excellent Comes Riton. It would not be honorable for her to fail in this." She nodded in the direction of Group Chief Leilah Chanliz, an angular, graceful, tall woman from Lontano, with pale, flawless skin and bright hair. "Would someone else be able to assist you?"

"No," said the Comes Riton gracelessly. "I must speak with Navigator Zim, and no other." The men around him were standing nearer to him, weapons still drawn, and their expressions were no longer bored or polite; a few reflected the astonishment on Thunghalis' features. One or two lowered their weapons. "I will speak with her or you will answer for it."

"Oh, Bleeding-root Rot!" Haakogard said under his breath, using the same mild oath his father had all those years ago on Grunhavn. This was turning into a standoff, and he hated standoffs.

"What's the matter, Line Commander?" asked Group Chief Eben Dachnor.

"Nothing," said Haakogard, speaking a little louder. "This whole impasse is ridiculous. We're supposed to be aiding them. That's what Commodore Herd ordered. We're not here to fight with them."

"Better let them know," Dachnor suggested, smiling tightly.

A poMoend officer with the shoulder points of a Tydbar came directly up to Haakogard. "The Most Excellent Comes Riton is here to speak with Navigator Nola Zim. Any attempt to prevent this will be known as a hostile act and we will respond as honor demands. We are sworn to uphold the honor of the Comes Riton."

"This isn't about honor," said Viridis Perzda, just above a whisper so that the poMoend men could not hear her, "it's about manners."

Haakogard concealed a sigh and bargained for time. "All right. I'll speak with Navigator Zim and find out what she wishes to do. If she is willing to interrupt her work to speak with you, then I'll allow it. If she isn't willing, I will have to stand by her decision." He looked directly at the Comes Riton. "And our firepower is superior to yours. I ask you to keep that in mind if you're tempted to force the issue."

"You have been sent to protect me," protested the Comes Riton. "How can you refuse what I demand of you when you are here to protect me? You are failing in your purpose, and that is not honorable."

"We are here to prevent a war. That was what you required, and that is what I am going to do. I will do nothing that will cost me one member of my crew, and if that means firing on your troops, so be it," said Haakogard. "If you will wait here? Dachnor, will you be good enough to present my compliments to Navigator Zim and ask her if she would join me and the Comes Riton at her earliest convenience, if she is agreeable?" He said it in the best form, as neatly as a Grand Harrier would have, he told himself.

"You do not order her? Why do you not order her?" the Comes Riton demanded, his sand-colored eyes looking pale with emotion. "It dishonors you to make your order a request."

"She has this time at liberty unless we are in actual combat alert. It would not uphold my honor to countermand our traditions. My authority is curtailed during liberty hours," said Haakogard, then added, "and she does not like being ordered about. I know this about her, Most Excellent Comes. She's served on the Yngmoto for six years. I've learned that much about her."

"So." The Comes Riton folded his arms and glared at his officers. "We will remain here until she comes. Eventually her liberty will end."

Haakogard bowed a little. "It's your planet; do as you wish. Perzda, make sure we have all the monitors operating, will you?"

"Done," she said, "already."

"I might have known," Haakogard said softly and heard Riven and Dachnor chuckle. "The Group Chiefs remain here, except Dachnor. The rest of you can return to your ships and get back to your duties." He signaled to Thunghalis. "I need a word with you, Pangbar, if you will? I must make a log entry."

"I am no longer a Pangbar. I forfeited my right to the rank," Thunghalis corrected him as he followed Haakogard to the entry hatch of the Yngmoto.

"You're the closest thing I've got to one," Haakogard pointed out as they stepped inside. He drew him into the suiting alcove. "What is going on out there? Will you tell me that? I've been going over the tutorials and I didn't find anything in them about the Comes Riton's women."

"He doesn't have any," said Thunghalis miserably, looking more worried than ever. "Why should he, being a clone, have need for a woman? And if he were to have a woman, it would not be a free-breeding one. Women are for those who free-breed, or who are not entitled to the honor of clones." He folded his long hands, cracking the knuckles loudly. "I have never heard of the Comes Riton so . . . forgetting himself in this manner. It goes against all traditions. No phase has ever done—"

"But you say that any phase is still the same Comes Riton as the first," Haakogard reminded him. "How can you account for this? Is he a late developer, perhaps?" His feeble joke was not understood at all.

"He develops as all others do," said Thunghalis seriously. "He repeats himself." His frown deepened as he spoke.

"Seems that cloning doesn't cover everything, after all," Haakogard said, and in another, crisper tone, he went on. "All right, go to your quarters but keep ready. Watch the surveills in the wall; I'll have the monitors routed there. You'll know if something happens that requires we respond. If that happens, use the hailer to warn me."

"I should remain at your side," said Thunghalis with determination.

Haakogard shook his head. "I don't want to remind the Comes Riton that you're around; he's touchy enough without that. Who knows, he might decide to pass the time by having you kill yourself for his amusement if you stay with me."

"I wish he would," said Thunghalis, his eyes alight with fervor.

"Well, I don't," said Haakogard bluntly. "Let me know if you see anything—anything!—that does not seem right to you. Don't hesitate. We can't afford delay."

"Very well," said Thunghalis unhappily.

At that Haakogard relented. "We'll get this figured out, Pangbar, don't worry about it." He started to turn away but saw Navigator Zim coming down the hall, her short forest-green Petit Harriers' cape swinging around her. He motioned Thunghalis to remain where he was and stepped out of the alcove. "Nola."

"Line Commander Haakogard." She was looking annoyed, but her expression changed. "Dachnor's at my station. I just reviewed the surveills. What does the Comes Riton think he's up to?"

"He's courting you," said Haakogard, somewhere between disgust and amusement.

"Is that what he thinks it is? Really?" she asked of the air. "Courtship? I know part of my job is to be a distraction, but this time it backfired, didn't it?" Before Haakogard could answer, she flung up her hands. "What am I supposed to do now? This is impossible."

"Use your good sense," said Haakogard. "And try not to escalate the situation if you can. He wants to fight someone right now, and that would not be . . . convenient."

"What is this, a schoolyard? Fighting over girls is for children," she protested, "not some sixth or seventh or eighth generation clone." She fastened the four decorative frogs that closed her cape so that she was now enveloped to her knees in the garment.

"He might as well be a child," said Haakogard. "Thunghalis says that the Comes Riton has never been involved with a woman before: being a clone, he has no need for women, you see." He kept his voice completely neutral.

"Lord of the Poisons!" Zim swore. "What kind of lunacy is this? How can this happen?" She tapped her foot in exasperation. "All right, I'll talk to him, but you'll have to come with me. I don't want to be by myself with him. What were they thinking of when the colonists started this cloning nonsense?" She did not wait for an answer but opened the main hatch. "You'd better be coming. Sir."

"Right behind you," said Haakogard, planning to speak with Thunghalis later about what the Pangbar had surely overheard.

As soon as Zim stepped out of the ship, the brasses and gongs set to work again, and the racket was overwhelming. She stood still, trying not to clap her hands over her ears, and watched while the Comes Riton approached her with an escort of five Tydbars.

"It is ultimate delight to see you," he said, silencing the music with a decisive gesture. His splendid voice rang more than all the brazen voices of the gongs and trumpets.

"What can I be but flattered?" Zim replied, glancing over her shoulder to be certain that Haakogard was there.

"What else is possible?" the Comes Riton concurred, wholly unaware of her sarcasm. "You have done that which has never been done before, in any phase of the Comes, from the True First until now. It is not surprising that you are from a distant planet and unlike anyone on Neo Biscay, for only a woman as remarkable as you could cause me to depart so totally from the nature of myself and the traditions of all my phases." He beamed at her.

"How kind of you to say so," said Zim expressionlessly.

"We will begin proper arrangements." He laughed, the sound deep and theatrical. "For once there are no traditions to guide us, and I have nothing to draw upon for myself, except my ingenuity and my honor. For both of us it is an experience entirely unique. I will have to hope that you will contribute your wishes to the planning and negotiations."

"What planning and negotiations?" Zim asked, for the first time showing real alarm.

"Why, to arrange for us to marry." He was startled by her question.

This announcement brought stares from the Petit Harriers, but the soldiers and officers who accompanied the Comes Riton were openly distressed at what he said. One Tydbar turned on his heel and walked away, and several men fingered their weapons.

The oldest Tydbar, who stood very near the Comes Riton, cleared his throat. "That would lead to free-breeding, and it is prohibited for all of us. You are a clone, Most Excellent Comes, and the strictures are intended to preserve you without contamination."

"This isn't free-breeding," said the Comes Riton, making a gesture to show how little the issue concerned him. "I will have no part of any female from this planet, just as has been the case before. But Navigator Zim is not from Neo Biscay. Therefore she is not part of those who are free-breeders, and therefore it is fitting and honorable that she marry me. It is because she is alien to Neo Biscay that it is permissible."

Most of his men did not seem positively impressed by the Comes Riton's reasoning, one of the Pangbars going so far as to make a short, scoffing sound.

"Navigator Nola Zim," she said of herself in the third person, as she would have done at home on Xiaoqing, "is not able to marry the Comes Riton or anyone else. As the Comes Riton is governed by the laws of his homeland, so is she governed by the laws of hers. Regretfully she must decline the generous and flattering proposal of the Comes Riton because she is not free to accept it." She bowed to him, then shot a look at Haakogard that clearly said get me out of here.

"Impossible!" the Comes Riton burst out.

Haakogard stepped forward. "No. What Navigator Zim tells you is the truth. In the tradition of her homeland, she is married already. She would not be allowed into the Petit Harriers if she were not."

"All the women in the Petit Harriers are married?" the oldest Tydbar asked incredulously.

"No, just all the women from Xiaoqing, which is Navigator Zim's home, which is their tradition." He rested his hand on his stunner, making sure that the Comes Riton saw him do it. "We would be failing in our duty if we permitted you to take her away from us, not only as Harriers of the Alliance, but as those answerable to her husband and family." He indicated the monitors at the perimeters of their site. "These machines are set to guard us—all of us. It isn't wise to press your case, Comes Riton."

The Comes Riton glowered at Haakogard. "We would do no harm to those who serve with Navigator Zim." He made a single, chopping gesture and his men formed into ranks of six. "We will return when I have come upon a way to deal with this. If there is any attempt at departure, we will send our ships after you and we will bring you down."

"With Navigator Zim?" Haakogard asked, pushing his luck.

"She will take no harm," said the Comes Riton a little wildly.

Haakogard knew his Katana-class Skimmers could easily outrun the old-fashioned flyers of Neo Biscay, but he did not mention it. "We are here at your request to help you settle the matter of your alternate clone. Or has that slipped your mind?"

Now the Comes Riton was truly furious. "It is more essential than ever that my alternate be devivified. If I am to have a wife, the alternate cannot continue to exist, for that would endanger everything. There would be too much confusion about the succession, for we will have sons to succeed me, and the clones will be for an alternate if the sons are not sufficient. This time there were shouts of anger and disapproval from his men but he ignored them.

"She cannot marry you, Comes Riton," Haakogard said carefully and patiently, thinking that everyone had gone insane except him.

"I am married, Comes Riton," said Nola Zim in much the same tone as Haakogard had used.

"A way will be found," said Comes Riton. Then he bellowed three terse words, turned and departed with his men, the band striving to make music and keep up with the fast march.

As they watched the Comes Riton's party leave, Haakogard said, "I've got to zap the Hub about this. We're up to our necks. Something's wrong." He started toward the main hatch when he paused and looked back at Zim. "We'd better arrange a story about this mythical husband of yours, so it'll stick."

"And we'd better include it on the zap to the Hub. If the Comes Riton checks up on us, I don't want him being told a different story." She seemed oddly tired, and she walked as if her feet hurt.

"What is it?" Haakogard asked as they went into the Yngmoto together.

She stopped, her head cocked to the side as if she sensed something following her. "It just struck me: Riton and Tenre are really the same person. What if I have another proposal to handle?"

"One crisis at a time, if you please. We'll deal with that when and if it happens." He noticed the Senior Bunter hovering nearby and resigned himself to dealing with the cyborg for an hour.

"Oh, it'll happen. It's bound to," said Zim quietly, with certainty. "This is one of those places."

Haakogard was in the conference room attempting to get an assessment from the Mromrosi when a band of Other Colonists attacked the Katanas. It was quite-late, and two of the Neo Biscay's three moons were down making the night as dark as it ever got. For the last hour the Mromrosi's conversation had wandered, going into subjects and concepts that the others could not entirely grasp. Twenty members of the crew were asleep, their Bunters serving as sentinels.

"We'll have zaps on this by morning and we'll know how they want us to handle this mess," Haakogard was saying just as a large rock thudded against the hull of the Yngmoto. He looked around as two klaxons began to whoop. "What was that?"

"Primitive artillery," said the Mromrosi. "There is another."

The Katana echoed with the impact, and yet another klaxon sounded. Lights came on throughout the ship, and the Bunters whirled into activity.

"Surveills on, conference room," said Haakogard, thinking he would have liked this better if the attackers had waited until morning. He was tired and grouchy, not the best frame of mind for battle, even as minor as this one might be. "Nightscreens full."

The gray panels on the walls filled with images.

"Those are . . . catapults, ballistas," he said as he recognized the weapons. Even as he watched, another large rock was lobbed at his ship. When it hit, he swore.

"The Other Colonists," said the Mromrosi, his color fading from pink to a tawny beige. Haakogard recognized this as a sign of condemnation.

"Interior hailers, all four ships," said Haakogard, and addressed the disk near his shoulder. "This is Line Commander Haakogard. We have been attacked by the Other Colonists, who are throwing big rocks at us. Do not return fire. I repeat: do not return fire. Set personal stunners on maximum, and if any approach you, stun your attacker. Otherwise, raise the deflection shield of your ships and wait it out. Report any serious damage at once. Good morning, everyone. Haakogard out." He stood up, hearing the soft, high shriek made by the deflection shield. "I'm off to the control room. Would you like to join me?"

"Directly," said the Mromrosi. "I wish to finish reviewing the zaps first."

"Whatever you like." Haakogard left the alien alone in the conference room and hurried the short distance to the control room directly beneath the bridge, where he found Navigator Zim already waiting.

"I couldn't sleep anyway," she explained, accounting for her presence in the control room. "The others are coming. Everyone's buzzed in."

"Good. Have one of the Bunters whip up something to wake us up, would you?" he asked her as he sat down at the tactical console and began to go over the damage assessments.

"Done," she replied, and signaled for a Bunter. "I wonder how they fit this attack into their honor? Or do they plan to lose this fight, too?"

Another boulder slammed toward the Yngmoto but crumbled as it encountered the deflection shield.

There was a series of emphatic and creative oaths as Section Leader Jarrick Riven stumbled into the control room. "What in the name of everything round is going on out there?"

"Zim has another suitor, I think. I recognize the style," said Haakogard, then immediately softened his remarks. "Or maybe the same suitor. That's the trouble with clones—they're the same thing in the same package." He was rewarded by Zim's wan smile.

"Are all the ships getting bombarded?" asked Riven as he took his seat and gave a quick, cursory glance at all the displays.

"Looks like it," said Haakogard. He reviewed the damage reports again and was relieved to see that the worst any of the four Katanas had got out of this encounter was a dent or two. He peered at the communication frame and shook his head.

"What is it? Goren? Why that look?" asked Mawson Tallis, who had just arrived with his Bunter following him, comb upraised to put some order into the Executive Officer's fair hair. "Why the commotion?"

"The Other Colonists?" Haakogard said.

"No, I mean, what's bothering you?" He relented and stood still for his Bunter, saying to the cyborg, "We are under attack, you know."

"Class five attack," said the Bunter. "Class five attack is very low priority and does not relax uniform codes." It took one more swipe at his hair, then moved, three of its four arms neatly telescoped into its body.

"Never argue with a Bunter," said Riven. He yawned. "I'm not awake yet. Someone nudge me if we get into any real trouble."

"I think we might have some real trouble," said Haakogard as he finally brought his attention to focus on what was bothering him. "I received a zap a couple hours ago that has me worried."

"What now?" asked Zim, her voice rising.

"It was from Fleet Commodore Herd. He leaves it up to our judgment but says that the Twelve have agreements with the Comes Riton and the government in the capital. That means we can't just walk out; they want something guarded here, but I don't know what it is. I don't know why the Twelve want it guarded. I don't know what it has to do with this clone business. Has anyone here ever been to Bilau?"

"It's on the other side of the continent, almost," said Tallis. "We might as well ignore it. It's too far away to—"

"I was there a couple years ago," said Riven. "It was a layover during a transfer. Bilau's like a lot of capitals on marginal planets—it has a few sights, a few thrills, a red-light district with some kinks, and the rest is utilitarian. PoMoend is more interesting for architecture, and the Hub has better entertainment."

"Yes," said Haakogard slowly. "But there was something in code for Perzda from Knapp at the end of the zap. If Alliance Intelligence Operations is mixed up in this—"

Everyone in the control room made sounds of disgust, and Nola Zim actually shrieked.

"That is what I think. So I want to talk to Perzda, and she's probably in the bunker. She ought to be there." Haakogard looked toward the surveills again. "No one fire back. They can't do much but keep us awake, but we would wipe them all out."

"Maybe that's what they're all after," suggested Tallis.

"Why do you say that?" Haakogard asked.

"Maybe they want to go out in a blaze of glory instead of having these long battles with the Comes Riton. Look what they did with the wild animals. They could all have got killed. This is the same thing, maybe." He looked rather smug; he was pleased with his assessment.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," said Haakogard. He rose, making up his mind. "I've had enough of this. I want Dachnor and Fennin to go out and catch me one of those Other Colonists. It's time we heard their side of it. Then we can decide what we want to do, if anything."

"I've already—" Zim began.

"That's not enough," Haakogard interrupted, kindly enough. "We'll get an Other Colonist together with Thunghalis and then we'll see if the Mromrosi can make sense of it." He stared out of the control room, bound for the security bunker where he trusted Perzda was waiting.

He was right. She held half a dozen fresh zap sheets in her hands and was thumbing through them as Haakogard came into the bunker. "I expected you before now."

"Sorry; things are a little confused," he said, and found himself a place to sit on the edge of her worktable. "What's the news?" He offered her the zap he had. "The last bit's yours."

"I've already read it," she said. "Fleet Commodore Herd has had the Marshal-in-Chief of the Grands arrested for taking bribes." She shook her head. "Stupid thing to do."

"Arresting him or the bribes?" Haakogard asked as he watched her go over the zaps.

"Both, probably," she said, a little distantly. When she put the zaps aside she looked at him directly. "We'd better do what we can to keep this farce here from exploding. Knapp's given me orders to report any divergence from specific instructions. We don't want to upset any of those delicate balances at the Hub, do we? So if you change sides now, or do anything that might make it appear you're countermanding what Herd wants you to do, you could end up in trouble. We all could." She sighed, her flinty eyes softening. "I don't want anything to go wrong. Not after all the years I've put in. I want to retire to Kousrau and study those ruins. They fascinate me. Imagine an entire civilization, a whole intelligent species, vanished and gone!—and only those ruins left.

"But I don't want to do it quite yet, and not in disgrace," she amended; then she touched one of the zaps. "Speaking of retirement, that's what the old Marshal-in-Chief of the Grands is going to be made to do, according to this. It's unofficial, of course, and there will be no public announcement for months. They're arranging for him to take over a tree plantation on Hathaway. He can't get into trouble there, and everyone can pretend the scandal was minor, including the Marshal-in-Chief. All very neat, all the nasty bits covered up." Her eyes were cynical and bright. "Less embarrassing this way." She flung three of the zaps into the air.

"Viridis," said Haakogard, not certain whether he was arguing or agreeing with her. When she looked at him directly again, he said, "Thanks for the warning. Now if only we could it explain it to everyone here." He hitched his thumb in the direction of the attacking Other Colonists. "Can we activate your surveills?"

"Sure," she said after a light hesitation. "If you want to. What do you expect to see?"

"I expect to see Dachnor and Fennin get one or more of the Other Colonists. I want someone to answer questions." He would have started the surveills himself, but in this bunker only Group Leader Perzda's geneprint would start the equipment.

"Is Alrou Malise on the bridge?" she asked as she stuck her hand to the identplate.

"Yes," said Haakogard, watching the screens come alive. "Look. They're on the other side of the Sigjima. They're wearing nightsuits." He indicated where Dachnor and Fennin were making their way through a low outcropping of rocks, taking great care with their footing as they went.

"Fennin's a good outside man," said Perzda as she studied his progress. "Dachnor's too quick, he gets noticed that way."

Haakogard did not say anything, being caught up in what his officers were doing. He leaned forward and watched the screens, as if he could protect them with the intensity of his gaze. At last he said, "Look just the other side of that boulder."

"Three of them," Perzda said. "I wish I'd put out a few more monitors. We might have got more of them, with less risk."

"It's all right," said Haakogard while his two Group Chiefs converged on the three Other Colonists, stunners ready.

In the next instant, one of the Other Colonists started to turn, made a muffled shout, then collapsed as the stun charge felled him. The other two were a fraction of a second too late, and both of them collapsed as well.

"Now what?" asked Perzda. "Two Harriers, three Other Colonists. You can't leave one or two behind, because they'll tell the others, and that could make them heat up the attack on us, which we don't want. So what do you think they should do, Line Commander?" She was teasing him but her question was sensible.

"They'll bring them all back here, of course," said Haakogard. "In fact, we'd better get the loading hatch open and arrange for the Freyama to provide some kind of diversion. Get me Chanliz and tell her it's urgent." This last was to the communications nodule set in Perzda's worktable.

The nodule beeped and three seconds later, Leilah Chanliz said, "What is it? And it better be good."

There were times when Haakogard would not allow such a response to go uncorrected, but this time he did his best to chuckle. "That'll be up to you," he told her, and explained what he wanted. "Be careful, but not too careful."

"Give me four minutes and we'll do it," she said, the irate tone gone and now replaced with faint amusement. "We'll give you—what? ten minutes?—outside. But tell Dachnor and Fennin to work fast. We can't distract them forever, no matter what we do." With that she signed off, and Haakogard sat back to watch with Viridis Perzda.

True to her word, four minutes later the side hatch of the Freyama opened and Chanliz, splendidly out of uniform in a gauze gown from her home planet of Lontano, stepped into the night, followed by her Communications Leader, Yenne Ciomat, who was wrapped in a lounging robe. The two of them wandered from one of the monitors to the next, taking time to stop and embrace each other at every monitor. Their attention seemed to be entirely on each other, and only the thud of a boulder landing a short distance away from where they stood attracted their notice, though not for long.

"Is this what you had in mind?" Perzda asked as she watched, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"No, but it works better than my plan," answered Haakogard. Chanliz had slid halfway out of the clinging layers of gauze and was reaching inside Ciomat's lounging robe. "I only hope they don't divert our attention as much as the Other Colonists'." Then he saw Dachnor and Fennin crouching low, bringing the first of their three captives up to the loading hatch of the Yngmoto. "Better get ready for the first one," he said, addressing the nodule. "Everyone stand by."

There was the sound of the loading hatch opening and the scuffle of feet, then a few hurried whispers of instructions, and then silence returned.

"Watch them," said Perzda, pointing to Dachnor and Fennin on the surveills. "They're after number two."

"Good for them," said Haakogard, preparing to leave. "I've got to go find out what we've brought on board. You want to come with me?"

"I think I'd rather watch Chanliz and Ciomat," said Perzda with a wicked grin. "They're outrageous. They give me some good ideas."

"They certainly are outrageous," said Haakogard, hurrying toward the loading hatch. Now that he had a chance to speak with one of the Other Colonists, he was excited. Finally he could start to make a correct assessment of the situation here on Neo Biscay.

Two Bunters and Jarrick Riven had brought the first captive aboard. The Bunters were in the process of waking the captive out of the stun, and Riven leaned back on the wall, watching closely. As Haakogard hurried through the door, he offered a slight wave of his hand before he pointed. "Bagged one. Two more coming."

"I saw on the surveills," said Haakogard, squatting down next to the Other Colonist. "Big man, outdoor skin." He took the fellow's jaw in his hand and tipped his head back. "Looks pretty healthy."

"In a place like this you're healthy or you're dead," Riven pointed out. "There's no room for sickly types. Notice his hands. Someone mashed his knuckles more than once."

"Fighting?" Haakogard asked, and answered for himself. "No; there's no scars on his face that say he fights, and his ears are all right. His nose hasn't been broken. He might have got his hands hurt working with animals." He rose to his feet, a tad more slowly than he had five years ago, but still quickly enough. He let the Bunters continue their work. "I want the Medical Leader from the Ubehoff to come over and check these Other Colonists out. And I want Thunghalis to go to the conference room. We'll do our questions and answers there."

"You want to wait for Dachnor and Fennin?" Riven asked, noticing that the Other Colonist was starting to move on his own a little.

"Yes. But I don't want these men piling up here in the loading bay." He brushed off his hands and hurried away, wondering if Chanliz and Ciomat were still astonishing the men guarding the ballistas. A faint shudder of near impact answered the question for him.

Dawn was still almost a Standard Hour away; only the tasty and stimulating drinks supplied by the Bunters kept the crew of the Yngmoto at their work as the long night wound down.

In the conference room, the three Other Colonists had sat in weary silence while Haakogard and the Mromrosi attempted to coax them into speaking. It was not a promising beginning, and there was nothing to suggest new avenues to explore. Thunghalis kept to his end of the table, but he stared at the Other Colonists with such outrage that Haakogard wanted to order him to look away.

"We're not asking anything impossible," Haakogard pointed out, trying another tack with the three captives. "If we had decided to punish you for trying to damage our ships, I assure you we would have done it by now. We only want to talk to you, to find out the nature of your grievances with the people of poMoend."

The one who appeared the youngest of the three gave a single bark of contempt, then resumed his silence.

"We can do nothing to aid you if you will not inform us of what wrong needs redress." Haakogard looked over at the Mromrosi, knowing that the Other Colonists had been frightened by him. "He is here to be sure that you are treated fairly, and he cannot do that if you will not tell him what is happening here, and why poMoend is on the brink of war."

The silence continued, more ominous than ever.

"You are not helping yourselves or your people or your cause by refusing to talk with us," said Haakogard, feeling idiotic.

"You will say that we lie, whatever our answers are. We all know that you are here at the behest of the Comes Riton and will do whatever he demands of you, for his pleasure and satisfaction, not for ours." It was the youngest one again, the one with the beautiful voice.

"We're here at the behest of the Twelve of the Magnicate Alliance, and the direct orders of the Fleet Commodore of the Harriers, Grands and Petits," said Haakogard for what he felt must certainly be the hundredth time. "The Comes Riton asked for our help, but we are not his men; we are Petit Harriers of the Magnicate Alliance." He looked over at the Mromrosi again, trying to learn something from the alien, but the shaggy curls remained pink, and for all the movement he made, he might as well have been asleep.

"You will serve the Comes Riton's honor. You will kill the alternate and that will be the end of the conflict. You will discharge your obligation." He was speaking more loudly, his voice ringing with emotion. "You will consent to it because it will end the dispute and your record will be favorable."

"That's not true," said Haakogard testily. "If it isn't fair to everyone, the Mromrosi won't allow it, and if it goes against the Alliance interests, the Twelve will forbid it." At least one of the Other Colonists was talking, he consoled himself as he took a long sip of his Bunter's concoction; the taste wasn't bad and it kept him awake.

"But by then we will be honorably dead," said the Other Colonist in gloomy satisfaction as his silent fellows gestured their agreement.

"No," said Haakogard, getting up and stretching. His shoulders were aching again, and in spite of the stimulants, he knew he needed sleep. His thoughts were turning woolly and thick. He went to the door and said softly to his Bunter, "Go get Navigator Zim, will you? Maybe they'll answer questions from her." Then he went back to his seat, and leaned over the back of it. "If you don't tell us what's going on, we will have to accept what the Comes Riton says. We don't want to do that, but we'll have to if there is no counterevidence to offer. Our hands are tied." It was a variation of the same case he had been pleading ever since the Other Colonists were brought aboard, and he did his best to make it convincing. "We do not want to make an expedient choice if that choice is wrong. Help us."

"You need nothing from us but our deaths," said the youngest one. He fixed Haakogard with his sand-colored eyes. "We are not afraid to die. Death will not dishonor us."

"Of course not," said Haakogard in exasperation. "You've made that obvious. But do you want to live, or is this a grand and tragic gesture you're making?" He could see that the Mromrosi was turning a darker pink; at least the alien observer was paying attention.

"We have more honor than that!" exclaimed the youngest Other Colonist, all but leaping to his feet.

The other two thumped the table with their hands as the youngest cried out, "You disdain us, you impugn—"

"I'm trying to make sense out of this," said Haakogard, cutting the other man's outburst short, "and you are not helping." He heard the door hiss preparatory to opening. "Zim? Sorry to get you up, but I need you."

Nola Zim had been asleep three minutes ago and had put on her simplest uniform, a single-piece coverall in matte gray with the horse-head insignia on the collar tabs. There were soft shadows under her eyes almost the same dark blue as her hair, and her voice was three notes lower than usual. "Why did you send for me, Line Commander?"

"Because I hoped you could help," said Haakogard, indicating a place at the table for her to sit. "Join us."

She went to the chair and was about to sink into it when the youngest of the Other Colonists nearly climbed onto the table, sand-colored eyes glowing. Zim stared at him, the last vestiges of sleep falling away from her like unwanted garments. "Tenre?" she whispered.

"It is you," he said, making a song of it.

She gazed at him, unmindful of the others in the conference room. "You were one of the men they caught?"

"To think I was so foolish that I cursed my luck," he said tenderly. "I should bow to these men for bringing me to you."

"Because they caught you?" She looked anxiously at Haakogard, but without the same tension she had shown when the Comes Riton had visited her. "How can you feel that way?"

"Because they caught me, I offer them my sublime thanks. Yes!" he exclaimed, one hand extended toward her. "I came here for you."

Haakogard nodded, satisfied at last. "The alternate, I presume?" he said, not expecting an answer.

At the far end of the table Thunghalis rose from his place, his features set in amazement. "Comes Riton. It is, it is the Comes Riton," he declared, abasing himself. "I am now doubly unworthy."

"Oh, no," Haakogard murmured, looking toward the ceiling as if he might find inspiration there.

The Other Colonist was shaken from his contemplation of Navigator Zim; his hand went to his belt though he no longer carried his throwing star there. "Do not speak of the Comes Riton, not to me. I want no part of him," said his alternate in the same mellifluous tones as the Comes Riton used.

"But—" Thunghalis began.

"I am Tenre, son of Syclicis," he stated in tones so firm no one could dispute them. "The Comes Riton is my clone, but I am not his alternate." He pounded the table and the two Other Colonists thumped along with him.

Thunghalis remained bent over. "I am stripped of all honor. Give me permission, O Most Excellent Comes, to expiate my wrongs before I compound them further. Allow me the comfort of an honorable death." He looked up at Tenre, his eyes eager for the chance to kill himself.

"Stop it," Haakogard interrupted. "There's no reason for any of this. Thunghalis, get up. You, Tenre, you sit down. We have a great deal left to discuss now that you're talking."

"While this woman stands, I cannot sit," said Tenre with feeling. "I would not offer her such an insult."

"Then sit down, Zim, so the rest of us can." Haakogard thought that under other circumstances he might find this amusing, like a festival game, but not at this hour of the night after his ships had been attacked. He studied Zim as he dropped into his seat, wondering if she were merely tired or something about the clone Tenre had actually captivated her. He hoped it was the former and not the latter.

Thunghalis was the last to obey Haakogard's suggestion, and he was obviously ill-at-ease complying. He sat hunkered down so that his head was lower than Tenre's, and he never took his eyes off the Comes Riton's clone.

"Why did you attack us?" Haakogard asked Tenre. He discovered that his warm and stimulating drink had gone cold, and he signaled to his Bunter to refill it as he waited for the answer. His head was starting to feel as if it were wrapped in pillows. Maybe, he thought, I should ask for a stronger stimulant, though he knew it was a bad idea.

Tenre did not answer at once, but directed his adoring gaze toward Zim. He spoke to her as if offering her an apology. "We weren't attacking you, not directly. You must believe this. We wanted it to be plain that we would not accept anything done by the Comes Riton, no matter what it was. He brought his men here, and his musicians, and that could only mean one thing. We realized that a truce was going to be signed and we were determined to show that we would resist you, no matter what the Comes Riton promised you, or what assurances he gave you." He folded his arms and regarded Thunghalis steadily for more than a minute before turning back to Zim again.

Haakogard felt like someone or something left over from a celebration, but he told himself not to regard his emotions. He cleared his throat, more for attention than because he was worn out. "Why would the men and musicians make you think we were signing a truce?"

For once Tenre looked directly at him as he answered. "How else is a truce declared, but with trumpets and gongs? That is the way it has been since the First Colony arrived and so it is now."

"But there is no question of a truce," said Zim, using this as an excuse to reach out and take his hand. "We have no power to enforce one even if we had been asked to negotiate one. That was not the purpose." To Haakogard's astonishment, she blushed.

"How do you mean, not the purpose?" Tenre demanded impulsively. "For what other reason would the Comes Riton bring musicians as well as soldiers if not to—"

Thunghalis answered, very unhappy to provide the answer. "The Comes Riton has experienced a departure from himself, away from his nature and his understanding," he said heavily. "He is now like one made or failed in his thoughts. Never has a phase of the Comes Riton been so lax or . . . He came here to . . . seek that woman." He pointed to Zim. "He has declared he will claim her, and use her as men use free-breeding women."

"No! Never!" shouted Tenre, coming half out of his chair. "No."

"Exactly," said Haakogard, who had to suppress a sudden irrational impulse to laugh. "That was more or less the response he was given."

"It is shameful that the Comes Riton should sully himself in this way," said Thunghalis, who was not amused by any part of the situation. "He is a dupe of this alien woman. He has forgot everything that is right and moral and traditional to Neo Biscay and his rank. He is insane. It will surely ruin him."

Zim's eyes glittered. "I do not wish to accept the offer of the Comes Riton. I have informed him of my decision, and he has heard me out. I do not have to listen to you speak of me this way." She pulled her hand away from Tenre and moved a little closer to Haakogard. "Do I have to remain here?"

"I'd prefer you do, but I don't absolutely require it," said Haakogard quietly. "I know it isn't pleasant for you; I'm sorry about that. But I need your help, you can see why. This is the first real talking we've got out of these Other Colonists. If you remain, perhaps we can keep them going?"

He folded his hands and made himself more comfortable. "She has a point," he remarked to the company around the table. "If you want to express your outrage, Thunghalis, go ahead, but don't blame Zim. She did not seek out the Comes Riton, he came here, and she has told him she is not willing."

Thunghalis shook his head, his eyes still on Navigator Zim. "She has done something to him. No phase of the Comes Riton has ever behaved so senselessly as this phase has since he met her. The Comes Riton is a clone and cannot—must not—deviate from what he was before. But now he is no longer himself, so it must be that she has influenced him. There is no other reason he should conduct himself as he has, in a manner that borders on dishonor." He gathered his large hands into fists and ground his knuckles together. "It is that woman. She has power."

"You must not say these dreadful things of her," protested Tenre, glaring at Thunghalis, his arms in the posture for direct attack. He was ready to forget his own honor to battle the disgraced Pangbar, and only a warning cry from his own men stopped him. In compromise, he moved so that he was between Thunghalis and Zim, saying, "Speak one more word against her now and I will make you account for it in blood."

"You are in her thrall as well," said Thunghalis, awed.

"No. Those who are in thrall are thus against their desires, and I can want nothing more than the honor of her presence and the grace of her affection. It is a privilege to be in her presence, not an imposition. And you do her and yourself no honor by making such a statement." Tenre lowered his arms, no longer pugnacious. "Zim would captivate any man who saw her, and she would be his ultimate treasure, as dear as his honor. The only thing I have heard of the Comes Riton which I can endorse is his devotion to her."

He hesitated, looking first at Haakogard, then Thunghalis, then he spoke to Zim. "If I were the Comes Riton and not his alternate, I would not permit honest officers to kill themselves to regain honor. My honor would be in their loyalty and service. I would not ask my men to seek ruin in order to prove themselves. I would praise them for all they have done and ask that they continue to serve me in honor, as I serve you."

The two Other Colonists who had been captured with Tenre echoed Thunghalis' laughter, and one of them growled an oath that made the Pangbar sit more rigidly.

"I'll check the monitors," said Zim, glad of a reason to leave the room.

"Come back," said Haakogard to her. "Soon."

She looked away from him. "All right. All right. Soon."

Back | Next
Framed