“They will meekly do whatever they are told, aside from black marketing and the like,” Targovi said. “Likewise the fighting men. I’m sure many will be less than glad at being taken from home, back to war, this soon. But what will they dare do save shout hurrah with everybody else? Yours is a magnificent species in its fashion, little friend, but like every species it bears its special weaknesses.”
He stroked his chin. His tendrils lay back flat, and a fang gleamed into view. “Furthermore,” he murmured, “Magnusson, who is no simpleton, will have made his alliances with powerful factions on Daedalus. They will help keep order at his back, until he has overrun enough space elsewhere that Daedalus no longer matters. There are Paz de la Frontera … Lulach … Ghundrung … Zacharia—Zacharia—Aye, surely he has his understandings with persons in these and other places.” Axor looked distressed. “This conversation is taking a horrid turn,” he said. “What can we do about it but tend our private affairs and pray to God for mercy upon helpless beings throughout the galaxy?”
“Well, we can get to Daedalus ’ere Javak looses his flames and we are forbidden to travel,” Targovi said, not for the first time.
“Yes, yes, I understand, and you are very kind, aiding me on my quest.” Axor gusted a sigh that nearly knocked Diana’s beer bottle over. “We were speaking of happier matters. You were, kh-h-h, briefing me on Daedalus—the planet itself, pure from the hand of the Creator, before sinful sophonts arrived. I seem to recall mention of its being extraordinary in numerous ways.”
“Well,” said the human around a mouthful of sandwich, “it doesn’t have a horizon.”
Axor elevated his snaky neck. “I beg your pardon?”
“The parameters—pressure and temperature gradients, mainly—they’re just right for light to get refracted around the curve of the globe. Theoretically, if you looked straight through a telescope, you’d see your own backside. Of course, in practice mountains and haze and so forth prevent. But the cycle of day and night—about a fifteen and a half hour rotation period, by the way, which is short for an inner planet anywhere—that’s quite an experience.”
“Dear me. Amazing.”
“I have read of the same thing elsewhere,” Targovi said, “but those worlds chance not to be habitable.”
“In fact,” Diana added, “I’ve heard how Terra itself’d be like that, if it kept the same air but was a few kilometers less in radius. How much less? Thirteen, is that the figure? Nothin’ to speak of as far as gravity and such are concerned. Daedalus happens to fit those specs.”
“Or else God made it thus, for some purpose that perhaps the Foredwellers came to know, and we ourselves may someday,” Axor crooned. “Oh, wonderful!”
The word came as Moonjumper was in approach curve. The planet filled vision ahead. Its huge polar caps were blinding white. Between them the tropics, seventy degrees wide, and the subtropics shone azure on the seas, dun and deep green on land, beneath clouds which the rotation twisted into tight spirals. The single moon, Icarus, stood pockmarked behind.
Suddenly the outercom picked up a message on the official band and blared it forth. Against his will, after his vital recommendations for military and political reform had been ignored, Admiral Sir Olaf Magnusson had bowed to the unanimous appeal of his valiant legionaries, that he take leadership of the Terran Empire before it crumbled in chaos and fell victim to every consequent evil. He had imposed martial law. Civil space traffic was suspended, unless by special permit. Sensible persons would instantly see why: an average-sized vessel moving at interplanetary speeds carried the energy of a small- to medium-yield nuclear warhead.
As far as possible, citizens should carry on in their usual occupations, obedient to the authorities. Infractions would be severely punished. But there was nothing to fear, rather there was everything to await, a dawn of hope. In six hours the new Emperor would broadcast, explaining, reassuring, arousing his people. “Stand by. The Divine, in whatever form It manifests Itself to you, the Divine is with us.”
“Eyada shkor!” Targovi breathed. “Once I read of an ancient tombstone on Terra. Upon it stood, ‘I expected this, but not so soon.’ ”
“What’ll we do?” Diana asked, webbed into a seat beside him in the cramped control cabin. “Turn back?”
“No. We are locked into Ground Control’s pattern. Doubtless I could arrange release, but—it is natural for me to continue as programmed. The whole object of this game has been to get our feet on yon ball.” Targovi brooded. Abruptly:
“See here. Were you not the child of Maria Crowfeather and Dominic Flandry, I might feel guilt at casting you adrift. As it is, I must work with what tools I have, and thank the gods that the steel is true. I meant to tell you more than I have done, as soon as we were at large, but now that must wait. Already have I told you too much for your safety, mayhap. However, it has been little more than my suspicions of what was about to strike, together with fears of what use certain folk might make of the uproar. Surely these thoughts have occurred to others. If you know naught further, you have naught further to conceal, and I do not think they will interrogate you too fiercely, the more so when Axor is clearly uninvolved in these matters. Stay calm, hold fast to your wits, make your own way, as you have ever done.”
She half reached for him, withdrew her hand, and said only a little unsteadily, “What do you mean?”
“Why, I have reason to think it could be unhealthy for me to linger after we land,” he replied. “Therefore I will not. Imagine that they suspect me of gunrunning, or allegiance to the Molitor dynasty, or intransigent mopery, or whatever. Aye, it’s a shock that your companion has been in deep waters. You knew only that I offered you a ride to Daedalus in order that you and Axor might be my blind, for purposes you had no reason to suppose were fell. Do you hear me?”
Then they did clasp hands.
Daedalus had no weather control. A rainstorm was upon Aurea when Moonjumper descended. That would be helpful to Targovi, though he could surely have managed without.
A squad of Imperial marines waited to arrest the persons aboard. At the last minute, Targovi cut Ground Control off and, manually, set down on a vacant spot across the field. He went straight out the airlock and disappeared in the downpour. Efforts at chemotracking were soon nullified by the manifold smells in the old quarter. Known associates of his, such as the innkeeper Ju Shao, denied knowledge of his whereabouts. Too much else was going on for Security to pursue the matter in detail. A Tigery outlaw would be practically helpless and hopelessly conspicuous on Daedalus anyway, would he not?
Meanwhile the squad had surrounded his passengers and taken them off to detention. At first the marines were nervous, weapons ready. But they got no resistance. The pretty girl actually smiled at them, and the dragon gave them his blessing.
Chapter 6
“The hour is upon us.”
Tachwyr the Dark, Hand of the Vach Dathyr, stood silent for thirty pulsebeats after he had spoken, as if to let his words alloy themselves with the minds of his listeners. They were the members of the Grand Council over which he presided—the captains, under the Roidhun, of Merseia and its far-flung dominions.
Their faces filled the multiple screens of the communication set before him. He had had it brought out onto a towertop of his castle. At this tremendous moment he wanted to stand overlooking the lands of his Vach, while its ancient battle banners snapped above him in the wind. The sun Korych cast brilliance on forested mountainside, broad fields and clustered dwellings in the valley beneath, snow-peaks beyond. A fangryf winged on high, hunting. On a terrace below, his sons stood at attention, in ancestral armor, honoring their forebears and their posterity, the wholeness of the Race.