Flandry nudged Hauksberg. The viscount said, “Ah … we must go to my ship—” No human would have accepted a tale so lamely delivered. Nor would a Merseian educated in the subtleties of human behavior. But this was merely an officer of planetary police, assigned here because he happened to be on duty at the time of the emergency. Flandry had counted on that.
“I shall check,” said the green visage.
“Don’t you realize?” Hauksberg snapped. “I am a diplomat. Escort us if you like. But you have no right to detain us. Move along, pilot.”
Flandry gunned the gravs. The boat mounted. Ardaig fell away beneath, a glittering web, a spot of light. Tuning in the after viewscreen, Flandry saw two black objects circle about and trail him. They were smaller than this vessel, but they were armed and armored.
“Nice work, there at the end, my lord,” he said.
Hauksberg was rapidly regaining equilibrium. “You’ve done rather well yourself,” he answered. “I begin to see why Abrams thinks you’ve potentialities.”
“Thanks.” Flandry concentrated on gaining speed. The counteracceleration field was not quite in tune; he felt a tug of weight that, uncompensated, would have left him hardly able to breathe.
“But it won’t tick, y’ know,” Hauksberg continued. “Messages are flyin’ back and forth. Our escort’ll get an order to make us turn back.”
“I trust not. If I were them, I’d remember Queen Maggy was declared harmless by her Merseian pilot. I’d alert my forces, but otherwise watch to see what you did. After all, Brechdan must be convinced you’re sincere.”
Ardaig was lost. Mountains gleamed in moonlight, and high plains, and cloud cover blanketing the planet in white. The wail of air grew thin and died. Stars trod forth, wintry clear.
“More I think about it,” Hauksberg said, “more I’d like to have you on the right side. Peace needs able men even worse’n war does.”
“Let’s establish peace first, huh?” Flandry’s fingers rattled computer keys. As a matter of routine, he had memorized the six elements of the spaceship’s orbit around Merseia. Perturbation wouldn’t have made much difference yet.
“That’s what I’m tryin’ for. We can have it, I tell you. You’ve listened to that fanatic Abrams. Give me a turn.”
“Sure.” Flandry spoke with half his attention. “Start by explaining why Brechdan keeps secrets about Starkad.”
“D’ you imagine we’ve no secrets? Brechdan has to defend himself. If we let mutual fear and hate build up, of course we’ll get the big war.”
“If we let Terra be painted into a corner, I agree, my lord, the planet incinerators will fly.”
“Ever look at it from the Merseian viewpoint?”
“I didn’t say it’s wise to leave them with no out but to try and destroy us.” Flandry shrugged. “That’s for the statesmen, though, I’m told. I only work here. Please shut up and let me figure my approach curve.”
Korych flamed over the edge of the world. That sunrise was gold and amethyst, beneath a million stars.
The communicator buzzed anew. “Foreseer,” said the Merseian, “you may board your ship for a limited time provided we accompany you.”
“Regrets,” Hauksberg said. “But quite impossible. I’m after material which is for the eyes of Protector Brechdan alone. You are welcome to board as soon as I have it in this boat, and escort me straight to Castle Afon.”
“I shall convey the foreseer’s word to my superiors and relay their decision.” Blankoff.
“You’re wonderful,” Persis said.
Hauksberg barked a laugh. “Don’t fancy this impetuous young hero of yours includin’ me in his Divine Wind dive.” Seriously: “I s’pose you figure to escape in an auxiliary. Out of the question. Space patrol’ll overhaul you long before you can go hyper.”
“Not if I go hyper right away,” Flandry said.
“But—snakes alive, boy! You know what the concentration of matter is, this near a sun. If a microjump lands you by a pebble, even—”
“Chance we take. Odds favor us, especially if we head out normally to the ecliptic plane.”
“You’ll be in detection range for a light-year. A ship with more legs can run you down. And will.”
“You won’t be there,” Flandry said. “Dog your hatch. I’m busy.”
The minutes passed. He scarcely noticed when the call came, agreeing that Hauksberg’s party might board alone. He did reconstruct the reasoning behind that agreement. Dronning Margrete was unarmed and empty. Two or three men could not start her up in less than hours. Long before then, warcraft would be on hand to blast her. Hauksberg must be honest. Let him have his way and see what he produced.
The great tapered cylinder swam into sight. Flandry contacted the machines within and made rendezvous on instruments and trained senses. A boatlock gaped wide. He slid through. The lock closed, air rushed into the turret, he killed his motor and stood up. “I’ll have to secure you, my lord,” he said. “They’ll find you when they enter.”
Hauksberg regarded him. “You’ll not reconsider?” he asked. “Terra shouldn’t lose one like you.”
“No. Sorry.”
“Warn you, you’ll be outlawed. I don’t aim to sit idle and let you proceed. After what’s happened, the best way I can show my bona fides is to cooperate with the Merseians in headin’ you off.”
Flandry touched his blaster. Hauksberg nodded. “You can delay matters a trifle by killin’ me,” he said.
“Have no fears. Persis, another three or four towels. Lie down on the deck, my lord.”
Hauksberg did as he was told. Looking at the girl, he said: “Don’t involve yourself. Stay with me. I’ll tell ’em you were a prisoner too. Hate to waste women.”
“They are in short supply hereabouts,” Flandry agreed. “You’d better do it, Persis.”
She stood quiet for a little. “Do you mean you forgive me, Mark?” she asked.
“Well, yes,” Hauksberg said.
She bent and kissed him lightly. “I think I believe you. But no, thanks. I’ve made my choice.”
“After the way your boy friend’s treated you?”
“He had to. I have to believe that.” Persis helped bind Hauksberg fast.
She and Flandry left the boat. The passageways glowed and echoed as they trotted. They hadn’t far to go until they entered another turret. The slim hull of a main auxiliary loomed over them. Flandry knew the modeclass="underline" a lovely thing, tough and versatile, with fuel and supplies for a journey of several hundred parsecs. Swift, too; not that she could outpace a regular warcraft, but a stern chase is a long chase and he had some ideas about what to do if the enemy came near.
He made a quick check of systems. Back in the control room, he found Persis in the copilot’s seat. “Will I bother you?” she asked timidly.
“Contrariwise,” he said. “Keep silent, though, till we’re in hyperdrive.”
“I will,” she promised. “I’m not a complete null, Nicky. You learn how to survive when you’re a low-caste dancer. Different from space, of course. But this is the first time. I’ve done anything for anyone but myself. Feels good. Scary, yes, but good.”
He ran a hand across the tangled dark hair, smooth cheek and delicate profile, until his fingers tilted her chin and he bestowed his own kiss on her. “Thanks more’n I can say,” he murmured. “I was doing this mainly on account of Max Abrams. It’d have been cold, riding alone with his ghost. Now I’ve got you to live for.”
He seated himself. At his touch, the engine woke. “Here we go,” he said.
14
Dawn broke over Ardaig, and from the tower on Eidh Hill kettledrums spoke their ancient prayer. Admiralty House cast its shadow across the Oiss, blue upon the mists that still hid early river traffic. Inland the shadow was black, engulfing Castle Afon.