CHAPTER 17
The trip to Iradalia-Karoda was relatively uneventful other than the normal happenings of interstellar travel. There were a few encounters with possibly hostile ships, but no need for the Sheewash Drive. Navigationally it was quite a clean piece of space. They did what was normal on such legs—the Venture got cleaned, checked over, and the Leewit played cards with anyone she could. Even Me’a.
“I should command you to stop beating me,” she said sourly.
“Of course. If that is your command,” said Me’a.
“No. That’d be no fun then,” the Leewit grumbled. “My turn to deal.”
The captain spent some of the trip learning more wrestling skills from Ta’zara. It was a useful way of working out his limits, and working up a sweat.
Goth spent her time—very much in private—trying to ’port things. And to her horror, failing. There didn’t seem to be a teaching pattern to tell her what to do. And she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about it, yet. Not with anyone.
The Iradalia-Karoda system was rather beautiful, if you looked at it from space. One reddish and one bluish world spun in close orbits around each other. The binary planet had several rings around it, obviously the remains of moons that had met each other a bit too closely. “Wonder how long before the whole thing falls apart,” said the captain, looking at the place on the forward viewscreens.
“If you live on Iradalia—that’s the bigger, redder one—you believe it is only the divine grace of Irad that stops it happening tomorrow. If you live on Karoda you know they’re getting a tiny bit further apart,” said Me’a.
“You’ve been here before?” asked Goth.
“Early in my career. Iradalia produces some lovely gemstones, the export of which is very highly taxed. And of course there is a rich profit in avoiding their import and transit taxes and customs.”
“And Karoda?” asked Goth.
Me’a raised her eyebrows at her. “Bespoke slaves. Willing slaves, who like being slaves. I don’t know what they do to them, but that left nothing for us to make money on. Karoda had nothing of interest to smugglers, and is not an easy or safe base. We make most of our profits by not giving monies to governments and selling goods which the government laws don’t allow. Karoda doesn’t have taxes, or even much in the way of laws. It’s a pretty wild place, as the Iradalians find out every time they’ve tried to invade it.”
“Oh. I gathered there was some sort of war going on,” said the captain, fishing.
“There has been for centuries. It’s quite funny in some ways. It’s a bit one-sided, really. Karoda’s people can’t be bothered to do more than womp their troops every time the church of Irad sends them in. Iradalians tend to make pretty bad fighters. Very few of them know which end of a blaster shoots, and even wrestling is considered evil in the sight of Irad. A hundred Na’kalauf warriors could walk all over Iradalia in a month. If Karoda was organized, or could be bothered, they’d go over and flatten the place.”
“Why do the Iradalians keep trying then?”
Me’a shrugged. “It’s supposedly about the slaves. But Iradalia makes a lot of their state’s money out of taxing those same slaves.”
“What?”
“They control the rings. Any ship getting in or out of Karoda needs to pay transit visas, and their goods pay a transit tax,” she explained. “So: Karoda makes a lot of money out of Karoda slaves, but Iradalia’s main source of income is ships going in and out. They even charge tax on the slaves. They claim that is intended to make the immoral business too expensive.”
“I thought you said Karoda could lick them in a fight,” said the Leewit.
“Yes, but they’d have to want to. And get organized enough to do it.” She grimaced. “The Karodese don’t organize well. Or take orders well.”
“You say they charge transit visa fees… I think I just figured out that we got burned on that cargo,” said Goth with a scowl. “We got paid to transport it. Now we’ll have to pay their taxes.”
“Sneaky.”
“But I thought Karres organized that cargo,” said the captain. Goth had taken over looking after the Venture’s money, which he had found a relief. She was good at it, and seemed to like doing it, as much as the Leewit liked playing cards.
“Yeah. It’s still booked through us, though. I reckon we’ll get it back,” said Goth, sounding cross. “But someone set out to cheat us.”
“Karres is not in the business of destroying every cheat,” said the captain.
“Huh. We gotta clumping start somewhere,” answered the Leewit. “It might as well be with them.”
“Maybe later. We’ve got our primary job to deal with, remember,” said the captain.
“If I might ask,” inserted Me’a, “what is this primary job?”
By now they all knew that Me’a knew a fair amount about Karres—as much as Sedmon of the Six Lives did. But after talking it over with Ta’zara privately, they were pretty sure her oath to the Leewit was a near unbreakable one, so the captain didn’t try to avoid the subject. “We’re here to stop the war between them.”
Me’a shook her head. “Captain, you may as well try to stop the tide. The war has gone on for centuries. It’d only end if one side won. And that can’t happen short of sterilizing one or other planet. Karoda wouldn’t give up while there is one living person left, and they’re a culture that lives by their guns and fights all the time—except when the Iradalians attack, when they all go after them. Iradalia believes they have a religious duty to conquer Karoda, but they…well let’s just say you can’t train soldiers when you have none, and most of your instructors don’t know which end of a blaster shoots, and mostly end up running away. You’re not even allowed to have a weapon on Iradalia. They’d have to hire mercenaries, and they won’t do that because they believe it is the duty of true believers in Irad to destroy the evils of Karoda.”
“All the evils…or just slavery?” asked Goth.
“All of it. Slavery gets talked about most, but really the whole way of life on Karoda is something the Church of Iradalia can’t handle.”
“And the church gets to decide?” asked Goth.
“Iradalia is a theocracy,” explained Me’a. “The high priests decide everything.”
“It sounds pretty terrible.”
“For some understandings of terrible,” said Me’a. “They’re very kind. No one starves. Everyone gets rations. Everyone does what they’re ordered to.”
Something about the way she said it plainly made the Leewit suspicious. “And if they don’t?”
“Well, the priests’ secret police would kill you. It’s not a society for disagreeing,” said Me’a.
“I understand why Karres doesn’t want them winning. They didn’t want Karoda winning either. The prognosticators say both would be bad,” said Pausert.
“There’s no pleasing some people,” said Me’a. “Seriously, for Karoda to win, Karoda would have to change, become organized, and then yes, they’d be dangerous.” She looked at Ta’zara. “When it comes to combat with arms, at range, they are better fighters than the warriors of Na’kalauf. They do that all their lives, and have for centuries.”
“They sound really friendly,” said Goth in a sarcastic tone.
Me’a smiled. “They are. Provided they feel like it. Everyone is armed, and everyone is ready to use those arms. They’re mostly very polite, very honest and very friendly. It’s when they stop being that that it that turns ugly fast.” She looked at the Leewit. “Best not to call them names first, Ta’taimi.”
“Huh,” said the Leewit. But it was a thoughtful huh.
They were soon in hailing frequency. It was demanded what ship they were, and their destination. Captain Pausert gave their current identity, and their destination as Karoda.
The voice over the communicator informed them they would need to dock at the customs asteroid, and gave them the coordinates. “All cargo for Karoda need to be inspected by customs priests of the Theocracy of Iradalia, and you need to pay the appropriate transit taxes. Attempting to evade these will result in your ship being destroyed.”
The captain snapped the communicator off, having seen the Leewit drawing breath. “You can’t whistle at them. And you can’t use dirty words on them either,” he said, sternly. “I’m still the captain here.”
“And you’ll probably get a chance once we’re being inspected, little sister,” said Goth. “Iradalia sounds like it might make Nikkeldepain look like a fun place.”
“It’s rather dull,” admitted Me’a. “Except of course when they decide you’re going against the will of Irad, like by selling your gemstones instead of giving them to the temple to sell. Or if they catch you selling forbidden goods. Don’t be fooled by the customs inspectors offering to buy things in a whisper.”
“Anything else we should know about?”
“Sometimes they’ll pick on a ship just to make an example of it, but other than that, no.”
* * *
The Leewit thought the docking facilities on the asteroid outside of the rings were relatively busy, if rather primitive for something that had so much traffic. So were the customs officers. All of them stank of something that made her want to sneeze. Still, it was all going fairly smoothly, until the customs officers went into the Leewit’s cabin. That was probably never a great place to insist on searching anyway. It got worse when the white-garbed customs officer said dismissively, “Out of my way. I have work to do, little girl.”
“It’s my cabin. I’m going to make sure you don’t steal my stuff,” said the Leewit, folding her arms and pursing her lips slightly, ready.
The Iradalian customs officer looked affronted at that. “You cannot stop me pursuing my duty. Aha! Officer Shimdram!”
The other customs man came in too. So did Goth, behind him, from her cabin which he’d just finished inspecting. “Look!” said the first customs official. “Blasphemy!”
He was pointing at her latest picture. The Leewit liked painting. It wasn’t her fault that paint sometimes liked her too. She was getting better at it. In this case she thought she’d actually done a pretty good job of painting the planets and the sun. It was pretty with the rings.
“What is this?” demanded the customs officer in a tone of horror.
“It’s a picture, you stupid kranslit,” the Leewit informed him.
“It is not permitted to make images of Irad! We shall have to confiscate it,” said the customs officer.
“What picture?” said the Leewit, giving Goth a meaningful look. Goth would do no-light and make it vanish. Or play other light tricks and make there be one in every corner…
Only she didn’t do either. She just smiled at the Leewit, which wasn’t the sort of help the Leewit expected from Goth. She always helped out. Always! The Leewit didn’t think she even thought about it. Neither of them did…until Goth didn’t.
“That blasphemous image!” said the shocked customs officer. “It will have to be removed and purified, and you will be charged.”
At this point things got very noisy. The Leewit didn’t see that she could whistle without affecting Goth, but she could yell at them. That brought everyone else—the captain, Me’a, and Ta’zara, old Vezzarn, and at least ten more customs officials.
The Leewit, on a bit more thought, could see that maybe being arrested before they even got to Karoda was not really what the prognosticators of Karres would have seen as a great way to deal with the situation. Or perhaps it was… She had great confidence in the captain’s and Goth’s skill at breaking out of jails and escaping traps. Even escaping planets. But then, maybe it was time she started thinking about how she’d do it without them.
“All right,” she said. “You can have the picture.”
That didn’t, at this stage, seem like it was enough. And it seemed that neither Goth nor the captain wanted to take it further. Ta’zara had quietly broken the collarbone of the man who had tried to put his hand on the Leewit’s wrist—and Me’a had somehow positioned herself in her wheelchair in front of the Leewit. “Is it not written that no man shall lay his hand on the daughter of another, without consent?” she asked, pointedly.
The result was them being herded out of the Venture to the office of the chief customs official. He looked, the Leewit thought, like he had had indigestion—for about twenty years. “I think we’ll make an example of you,” he said, looking at the Venture’s current papers and manifest. “An example…”
He stopped suddenly. Looked again at the manifest. “Oh. Er. It’s really a small infraction, Officer Shimdram. Stop making such a fuss and let them go.” He gave the captain an insincere smile. “A misunderstanding. There will be a small fine, twenty maels, added to your visa and transit tariffs. That will be…ah…three hundred and fifty maels. If you pay the clerk on your way out you can depart immediately.”
“But…” protested the customs officer. “They attacked Officer—”
“Not another word, Shimdram,” said the chief sternly, casting another look at the manifest. “You’re in trouble. Remain here. You…Officer Walbert. See these good people back to their ship via the cashier. You do have the funds to pay, Captain? Otherwise, if your cargo is cash on delivery as they sometimes are, it could be settled on your return.”
“I think we’ll just pay it,” said Pausert. “Thank you very much.” And they followed the suddenly nervous customs official out.
Within a few minutes they were back on the Venture, cleared for departure inward to Karoda. “Captain,” said Me’a. “With all respect I think you should take off and head out-system just as fast as your ship can go. Something is very wrong.”
“I got that idea too, Me’a. But sticking our necks out is what we do. What did you spot that was wrong?”
Me’a grimaced. “Iradalia breeds petty officials. They never turn suddenly reasonable. The rate that he charged is less than one tenth of the normal. And,” she tapped the arm of her wheelchair, “I locked a spy ray onto the chief official. He put a shield down, pretty quick—he had one sitting on his desk—but not before I got one word. Maladek.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Goth.
“It’s the name for their secret police. Their spies, their secret service. Someone has to keep everyone in line. They’re a nasty lot. The ordinary people are terrified of them.”
“And it had something to do with our cargo. That was our manifest he looked at,” said Pausert. “You’re right, we’re running into trouble. If you like, you can disembark before we leave. You’d get another passage, fast enough.”
“That would run contrary to my oath. Besides, Vezzarn informs me that whatever mess the Wisdoms get you into, they get you out of. But I do think we should have a look at that cargo for Karoda”
“It’s a load of hyperelectronic forcecuffs.”
“All of it? I mean, have you checked the crates?”
“It sure looked like they were all the same,” said the Leewit. “I was with that customs snoop on Cinderby’s World when he looked. He had a scanner and a bunch of hyperelectronic tools himself. He was comparing weights and densities of the crates. All of that consignment were exactly the same.”
“Senior Inspector Dru,” said Me’a. “He was one of the sharpest they had, at picking up contraband of any kind. Whatever is there will probably be legal, at least in the Empire. And nothing is off-limits on Karoda.”
“Let’s open one of the boxes, and have a look. We’ll claim ‘opened by customs for inspection,’” said the captain. “And have a good look at the works of the thing. After all, we have got an expert on locking mechanisms with us, eh, Vezzarn?” He lifted an eyebrow at the old spacer.
“I’ll do my best, Captain,” said Vezzarn.
The crate they picked had nothing in it but the hyperelectronic forcecuffs it claimed to have. Vezzarn took a couple to his work desk and was soon peering at the first through his jeweler’s magnifier and probing it with his electronic tools. Then he picked up the second. “Hmm,” he said, pushing it aside after a few minutes. “It’s a standard, fairly cheap forcecuff, each one with an individual resettable access code, Captain. But they’ve been modified.”
“What have they done to them?”
“Well, they’ve put in a short-range receiver, which will accept a code to override the locking code, so they can be opened and closed remotely. It’s the same code pattern, and the same frequency on both.”
“So…they can set prisoners free. That could be interesting,” said the captain. “Sort of thing Iradalia might arrange, I suppose.”
“Your problem, Captain,” said Me’a in an odd voice, “is that you are too nice to see into the heads of really nasty people.”
“Why? I mean what else…”
“It’s a bomb, Captain. A really clever bomb. Looking at the number of crates and the number of forcecuffs, a really powerful one.”
“Uh. How…”
“What happens to forcecuffs if you give them the wrong code? Their field expands and goes critical. That would cut a prisoner’s hands off. Several thousand—all doing it at once, their hyperelectronic fields intersecting…you’d see it from space. And that is what they want.”
“They want to destroy the slavers badly enough to blow up their base and kill some poor slaves who happen to be cuffed with them. Ouch,” said the captain. “That’s nasty.”
“I don’t think that is what they want, no,” said Me’a, grimly. “They want to know a locality, and attack just that instead of having to try and fight their way across all of Karoda to find it. They fail at that, but if they put a massive force right on a base that had just suffered a huge explosion, they would succeed. The high priests of the temple of Iradalia know that there is, hidden somewhere in the mountains, some device that the Karoda slavers use to indoctrinate people into serving and serving joyfully. It’s a lifetime compulsion, and the Karoda slave will find reasons to serve joyfully, whoever they are bound to. They’ll even die to make whoever they are bound to happy. You think the high priests of Irad want to destroy it? No. They want to own it, to have it, to use it. They could then make people follow their religion, and do anything they ordered. The first people they’d line up for treatment would be their enemies from Karoda. They’d have some of the deadliest fighters in the galaxy as their loving slaves. And any captives would end up the same way.”
Suddenly, the reason why Iradalia winning this war could be far worse than Karoda’s slave trade was very clear.
“We could disable their bombs, Captain,” said Goth. “Or warn the slavers. I don’t like them much after my brush with ’em, but I can see the alternative could be worse.”
“Five thousand forcecuffs might be a bit much for Vezzarn, my dear. We’ll just have to tell them their cargo is pretty useless.”
“Well, Captain, actually,” said the old spacer, “I can change the code easily enough. They’re all set with the same code. I can access the controllers on the right frequency and give the disarming code. Then, when I have access to their controller, I can reset it.”
“That wouldn’t help much, if what they plan is sending the wrong code,” said the Leewit, seeing the problem immediately.
“There is one other possibility,” said Me’a thoughtfully. “If you can gain access to all their controllers, Vezzarn, you should be able to reset not just the codes but the transmission frequency they have to be sent on.”
Vezzarn looked thoughtful. “I could do that. It’s fairly simple coding. Child’s play really. They bought cheap and nasty.”
“Good,” said the Leewit. “I want to stay and watch and learn it. It could be useful.”
“Then I had better too,” said Me’a.
A little later, the Leewit finally got a chance to talk to Goth alone, when she took the now modified sets of forcecuffs back to the crate in the hold, and found Goth doing tallies of the goods there. They carried some trading goods on their own account—gambles that the captain felt might pay off, and, given his luck, often did. Goth liked working out the business side, and had done most of the ship’s accounts for a few years now. Her way of relaxing herself—if she couldn’t take her bow and go hunting—was to count the stock. The Leewit couldn’t see why, but Goth liked it and there she was.
“What’s going on with you, Goth?” said the Leewit. “You knew I wanted you to do a light-shift on my picture. But you didn’t do it.”
Goth sighed. “Yeah, well…”
The Leewit poked her in the ribs. “Come on. Tell.”
Goth shook her head. “If there is one thing I have learned going off on my own on Karres business, it’s that you have to find out what you’re breaking up before you just start doing stuff. The captain would never have found out about the forcecuffs and what those smelly Iradalians were planning, if we’d gotten into a fight then and there. And you’re getting to the age where you won’t have the captain or any other hot witch to turn to, often times. You’ll have to get out of the messes on your own, or with Ta’zara and Me’a doing their best. And while their best is pretty good, they can’t do klatha. So don’t get into messes you can stay out of, just for the sake of getting your own way,” she said, severely. “I need you to start learning that.”
The Leewit scowled. “You could have clumping well told me, instead of dropping me.”
“That’s the Karres way,” said Goth, turning and walking out.
* * *
Goth knew she was going to have to face up to telling them sometime, and soon. She just wasn’t quite ready yet. Just as she wasn’t ready to try ’porting anything again, yet.
She didn’t feel any different, here in the comforting cocoon of the Venture. She just knew that she was.