“Also, at least to begin with I don’t want both pinnaces to have people away from them at the same time without clearance. At least one has to be able to leave the ground at once, in case of emergency. The pinnaces, after all, are the only atmospheric flight capacity we have.
“And finally, everyone will wear a loaded pistol at all times when outside a shield, and carry two frag grenades with him, except in circumstances where it’s clearly undesirable.
“Any questions or comments?”
“Yes.”
The tone was heavy, dark, and all eyes went to Skipper Ram Uithoudt as he got to his feet. “Before we were treated to the discourse on archaeology, you said there was nothing whatever down there that could open our force shields. Well there is, and I’ll bet there’s a lot of it in everyday use.”
The room was quiet for a moment before Matthew said, “What’s that?”
“Trickery,” Ram answered. “Trickery.”
It was decided that Alpha would make first contact, with the same crew that had reconnoitered the city two days earlier. When she launched, she had a newly installed rack with automatic rifles ready for quick use. Two large open-topped bags hung beneath it, half full of fragmentation and blast grenades.
Draco rode with practiced ease. He’d spent thousands of hours in the saddle in his forty-four years, the first few hundred under the merciless eyes of hard-nosed drill instructors. Forty-four was rather old. Most died younger in battle or brawl, stabbings or beatings. To be not only forty-four but a consul was proof of outstanding ability and utter ruthlessness.
Right now he couldn’t see the sky chariot; it was behind a hillock. When it had shown itself the other day, he’d been confident it would come to earth here sooner or later. He wondered if there were others.
He knew little about the ancients, but the old stories told of great power. They could smash a city flat with no more effort than a man squashing a bug beneath his foot. The only reasons they could have for returning were to rule or collect tribute. They might want a regent to administer for them here, or a go-between, someone who knew situations and possibilities.
He turned to scowl at Ahmed’s small group paralleling his own a dozen meters away. It was a nuisance to have to screen out here on the steppe. To preserve his privacy and vanity, Draco had no psi on his immediate staff, relying entirely on his own powerful talent. But the non-psi Sudanese dog kept two of them with him everywhere but in harem, including that insolent eunuch, Yusuf the Turk.
Topping the low rise, he could see the sky chariot atop the next gentle hillock, shining brightly in the sun. Did they use slaves to polish it, he wondered, or did their arts keep it so? The last few score meters they rode warily, observing with care. A few meters from the sky chariot was a curved line of crushed grass and broken flowers, as if, for some reason, people within it had come out and trampled an exactly circular path around their craft.
The two groups of horsemen had almost come together now, converging on the pinnace. Ahmed was a length ahead when Draco, about to spur even, saw Ahmed’s stallion recoil, its powerful haunches bunched, and try to back away as if it had bumped into something. Draco reined to an abrupt stop and watched while Ahmed brought his now-rearing mount under control, using the spade-bit brutally.
Tentatively Draco moved his horse toward the pinnace with short steps. At the line in the grass it jerked its head and nearly squatted as it took a reflexive step backward. Then both men turned their nervous animals and sidled toward the craft, each with one hand outstretched. Something hard was there that they could not see, something unyielding that rose from the ring of flattened grass.
At that moment the sky chariot turned to glass before them, and Draco could see the people inside-five of them. Strange clothing covered them from foot to neck, fitting their limbs loosely. Surrounded by an invisible wall, they wore no body armor. And no swords; perhaps the small objects belted to their waists were weapons of some kind.
They were looking at him and his people.
Probably the invisible wall would allow weapons to be wielded outwardly by those inside, even though it apparently would let nothing penetrate from without.
But it did not block thoughts effectively. And they thought in Anglic; that was a stroke of luck! The Master had made his officers learn the language because it was widely used in Europe between people of different native tongues.
Abruptly a voice spoke, loud and clear, seeming somehow to come from a spar extending above the chariot. The tone was slightly metallic but clearly a woman’s. Her aura was not one you would find about a slave; among the ancients, as among some peoples on Earth, women must rank as men.
The audio pickup in the commast seemed to be working well, Matthew noted. It was directional, and right now was focused on two who appeared to be the leaders and who sat their horses side by side. Their breast plates were burnished silver instead of bronze, and their helmets more luxuriantly plumed. The shorter of the two replied to Nikko’s question.
“Yes, we speak Anglic, but it is not our native speech.”
“What is your native speech?” Nikko asked.
His answer meant nothing to her, but Anne Marie said softly, “Let me have the mike.” She spoke into it in an unfamiliar language, listened, then turned to the others. “Arabic,” she said, “or rather, a twenty-ninth century derivative. It’s not much like the computer extrapolations of what Arabic might have become. More like a pidgin Arabic, as if… ”
“What did he say?” Matthew interrupted with some irritation.
“It amounted to flattery and a formal welcome. They are honored to talk to the ancients, and something about helping us in any way they can. That’s the gist of it.”
Their scabbards were conspicuously empty. They’re bound to be impressed with the pinnace, Matthew told himself, and they probably have legends of laser weapons, nuclear bombs, the whole ancient armory, though God knows what transformations they may have undergone over centuries of oral tradition. It’s just as well they don’t know we don’t have such things today.
Mikhail voiced similar thoughts. “Eating out of our hands, sounds like. I wouldn’t let them know how little we have in the way of ordnance and men; they might turn less respectful.”
Matthew nodded. “Anne, tell them we’ve come from a world of the ancients, in a great starship that’s hovering five hundred kilometers directly above their city. They may not know what a kilometer is, so explain to them that the ship is above the sky, where there is no air to breathe and it’s always night. That should impress them.”
“I’m not up to that on short notice, Chief. I’ll need some review before I get very ambitious.”
“Use Anglic then. It should help strengthen our psychological dominance if they have to use our language. Tell them we don’t want to harm them. Say we want to know more about them and… no, wait. We’d better sound more business-like. Ask who their ruler is.”
As Anne Marie spoke, Matthew watched the two leaders. They consulted briefly in whispers too soft for the pickup to adjust to, but he got the impression that they were not friendly to one another.
The one who answered was not the one who had spoken before. “I am Ahmed and he is Draco. We rule together since the death of our great Master, Kazi, who was already great among the ancients, your forefathers. He fathered our people and ruled them from their beginning.”
“Wow!” Anne Marie exclaimed when he was done. “Sounds like they have some fantastic traditions. I can hardly wait to find out about them.”
“And they rule together,” Matthew mused. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s a happy and stable arrangement. Ask them the name of their nation.”