Accepting the Lance Read online

So, then, they were addressing the question of what the Road Boss precisely did here on Surebleak.

  “Because the idea of an open supply system from the port throughout the city and to the settlements beyond the city is a relatively new one, the Road Boss does, as you see, hold open office hours,” he told Soreya Kasveini. “Our object is not only to answer questions regarding the rules of the road and to share information, but also to learn from the native population. We have had valuable input regarding the history of the main supply routes—of which the Port Road is merely the longest—how the costs of maintenance and patrol were apportioned before the colony was abandoned by the Gilmour Agency, and the local culture devolved.

  “The Road Boss and others of the Council of Bosses are working in committee to identify the secondary routes, assess their value, and to produce a timeline for the establishment—I should say reestablishment—of those routes, in cases where it is warranted.”

  “Then the Road Boss’s office primarily benefits the city?” asked Soreya Kasveini.

  “Supply flows in both directions,” Val Con said patiently. “Goods move from the port to the city. Likewise, workers move from the city to the port. It is a symbiosis; the success of each depends upon the vitality of both.”

  “The file on this office which was provided by the portmaster indicates that there are protocols in place for ensuring that the Port Road remains open. One of those protocols involves armed enforcement. Does your office employ soldiers? Mercenaries, perhaps?”

  Val Con took a careful breath, and produced a Terran smile for the benefit of the interviewer.

  “Surebleak has been enjoying a period of population growth. Among those who have chosen to establish a base here are a number of active mercenary units. In addition, Surebleak has in its native population a significant number of retired military. This is to say that, should it become necessary to keep the Port Road open by force of arms, then the means to implement that protocol is close to hand.”

  He moved his shoulders and looked wry.

  “Speaking as Road Boss, I do not think we will find any necessity to use such means to secure the road. We are fortunate, that those who live in the city largely see the Port Road as a benefit. There is some complaint with regard to the usage fees, but it is traditional, after all, to be aggrieved by the fees.”

  Team Leader Kasveini actually put forth a smile of her own.

  “It is, isn’t it?” she said, and sighed, looking up to meet his eyes.

  “What is your estimation,” she said, “of the possibility of an attempt to close the road from the port side?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “An invasion, do you mean?”

  “Something along those lines. Clan Korval is not, I think, without enemies. It must have occurred to you that your presence endangers not only the port but this entire planet.”

  Anger flared, though she spoke nothing but the truth. Jeeves had done what he could, given the meager infrastructure that had been in place. Certainly, there was nothing like a planetary defense net in place around Surebleak…one might, without exercising undue optimism, say yet. They had plans, and a design, but that was well outside of TerraTrade’s need to know.

  He took another careful breath and met Soreya Kasveini’s eyes as calmly as he was able.

  “Clan Korval has never been without enemies. It had long been our practice to extend such protections as were available to us to the port and the planet on which we were based. That is, after all, both good business and good husbandry.”

  Her gaze remained firm and for a moment he thought she might ask further.

  Self-preservation, or a simple realization that this line of questioning was…somewhat aside her mandate, brought a sigh to her lips, even as she glanced down and touched the button of her recorder.

  “Thank you. I believe that those are all of my questions. If a need for clarity or expansion arises, I or another member of the team will stop by to speak with you again.”

  “I understand.”

  He stood when she did, and bowed.

  “I appreciate your efforts,” he said, “on behalf of Surebleak Port.”

  She returned the bow, but not the sentiment, which he supposed was fair enough. He touched the plate on his desk and the door to the anteroom opened to reveal the largeness that was Nelirikk.

  “Team Leader Kasveini is leaving,” Val Con told him. “Pray see her out.”

  * * *

  Well, Val Con thought carefully, it wasn’t as if the survey team leader had stated in so many words that Korval’s mere presence on-world was being weighted as an ongoing and active threat to the welfare of the port.

  On the other hand, it hadn’t been necessary to be explicit.

  His temper was badly frayed. A glance at the screen showed Nelirikk alone in the anteroom, the portside door decently closed, and no one waiting on the bench for a moment of the Road Boss’s time.

  Good. That was good.

  He considered closing the office and going over to the Emerald for a cup of tea—or a glass of wine—but the thought of perhaps meeting Pat Rin there and being required to relate the details of his recent interview while he was thus unsteady…no.

  Best simply to sit and collect himself. A cup of tea would not be amiss, and that he could provide for himself.

  Closing his eyes, he worked through a mental exercise that imparted calm and clear thought. After the exercise was done, he sat for several more minutes, eyes closed, just…breathing.

  Somewhat calmer, he rose and moved to the back of the little office, stepping ’round the partition into the private area. The door to the utilitarian facilities was at the far left; quick oven, tea-maker, and cold box, grouped as a small galley, center; and the back door, or as Miri had it, the bolt-hole, at the right.

  He touched the kettle to turn it on, and opened the cabinet, considering the small store of teas. Tucked among the more invigorating blends was a small tin of Shamolei—an herbal blend well known to soothe raw nerves. Neither he nor Miri particularly cared for the sweet, green flavor; as he recalled it, they had brought the tin into the larder in case they should be required to calm a visitor to the office.

  The kettle whistled; he dropped the sachet into the bottom of a local-made mug, and poured boiling water over it.

  Returning to the office, he put the mug carefully on the desk, and—another glance at the screen showing the outer office yet empty of visitors—reached to the shelf and turned on the scanner.

  He settled into his chair and, the business of the port a comforting background, closed his eyes and considered the song of Miri, which he heard, always, inside of his head, and which never failed of soothing him.

  • • • ✴ • • •

  Miri leaned back in the chair and stretched.

  She’d gotten the pinbeam off to Jen Sin, reviewed the agenda for the next meeting of the Council of Bosses, and read Commander Relgen’s letter concerning the recruits proposed to her by Captain Robertson—that being Miri herself, in unlikely fact.

  Commander Relgen was complimentary—a bad sign. The proposed recruits—Pathfinder Chernak and Pathfinder Stost—had shown well; their skills were unquestionably superior. They had been respectful to command and displayed a seemly modesty when questioned about their part in past actions.

  But, Relgen continued, it was the very superiority of the recruits’ skills that posed the most insurmountable difficulties.

  A mercenary unit, as Captain Robertson of course knew, was a delicately balanced machine. A unit. While excellent skills were desirable in each soldier, what was more desirable was balance, coordination, and control. Recruits who were markedly superior to every other soldier in the unit would throw the machine off balance.

  And so it was, with regret, that Commander Relgen declined the opportunity to sign Pathfinders Chernak and Stost to Relgen’s Raiders. She wished them the best of luck with another unit.

  Miri sighed, and closed her eyes.

  She’d hoped
that the merc would be the answer to the riddle that was Chernak and Stost. They were military, after all, and after everything they’d been through—including escaping the universe where they comprised the desperate rear guard in a flight from an overwhelming enemy—and landing in this very, very different universe…and behind time, too…after all of that, military order could only be a comfort.

  O’course, they weren’t exactly—or only—soldiers. They were Pathfinders, the old military’s version of Scouts.

  So, it might be that Val Con’s notion of having the happy tots looked over by the Surebleak Scouts had some real merit. In fact, there was a Scout recruiter coming to talk with them tomorrow. If their skills were so superior, maybe the recruiter would overlook their need for training in certain core subjects including—

  “Space weather alert. This is a space weather alert from Surebleak Control.”

  Her ears perked up. As little as she cared about the names and destinations of ships, space weather amused her, although it was often nothing more than a report of sunspots or a sighting of some distant comet.

  “Anomalous object approaching Surebleak major operations area—”

  “Sleet and snow!” the scanner shouted. “Didja see that! It come right outta the sun, I’m tellin’ you! No signature, no glare—”

  “This is Surebleak Local. Corona-skimming object snuck through in-system scans, first approximation is a near-Surebleak skim. Keep to assigned orbits. If you are on approach, stay on course as long as your scans say you’re good.”

  Miri spun to stare at the scanner. Object. Meteor? she thought. Came right out of the sun, was it? She felt a slight chill in the warm office.

  “Jeeves, can you see that rock?”

  “Yes, Miri. The approach route is…unconventional, but I believe that it is a route, not stellar detritus—”

  “A ship,” she interrupted, realizing that she had come to her feet.

  “Yes,” Jeeves said again. “I have a broad match with the Clutch vessel that transported Korval’s holdings to Surebleak. However, the vessel incoming is…much smaller and…ah.

  “I am coordinating with Bechimo now. They’ve backtracked it to an entry point. We have very good reason to believe that it is using the electron substitution drive. I have extrapolated its course…on a heading for…”

  “Our back field?”

  “No, Miri,” Jeeves told her solemnly. “It is on course for our driveway.”

  She blinked.

  “Odds of survival?”

  “One hundred percent,” Jeeves said promptly. “It is already slowing its descent. I estimate arrival in—”

  “I retrieved an earlier communication on house frequencies from the approaching vessel,” came a pleasant, unfamiliar voice. Comm Officer Joyita that must be, Miri thought, patching in on the shielded house line. She decided to be pissed about that later.

  “Proceed, please, Mister Joyita,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Pilot identifies herself as Emissary Twelve and states that she is on the business of the Elders. An immediate in-person meeting with the Delm of Korval is requested.” There was a small pause.

  “She apologizes for this unseemly haste, and pleads…necessity, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Mister Joyita.” Miri sighed, and turned toward the door.

  “Jeeves, with me, please.”

  “Yes, Miri.”

  Keep our heads down, she thought. Sure.

  “Readiness report,” she said, walking quickly, but not running, toward the front door.

  “The nursery has been sealed and shielded. House shields are engaged. I am recording and sending live to the office of the Road Boss.”

  “Does Mr. Joyita have permission to access in-house communications?”

  “Miri, he does, retroactively, and also Bechimo. Among other things we have been discussing are comm security protocols, as Joyita was kind enough to point out an error in my configurations. This present event overtook us before I could effect a repair. We are using a relay from Bechimo now, so communications may bypass local repeaters.”

  “I see.”

  She felt a slight niggle at the back of her mind, and glimpsed the glitter of an intense and tightly woven pattern. Val Con had the feed now and was focused on it, all his training to the fore. He wasn’t worried so far as she could tell, and that soothed her in a way Jeeves’s assurances hadn’t.

  Still, she thought, coming to a branching of the hall; big rocks that were only small in comparison to out-of-reason enormous rocks, coming down ’way too close to a good subsection of the people she cared about most… Even the Clutch made mistakes—at least, she assumed so.

  And, if the house shields were up, there wasn’t one damn bit of good in her going to the door.

  She turned right and followed the hall to the morning parlor, where there was a screen. For that matter, there was a screen in the delm’s office, but she hadn’t been thinking, had she?

  It was then that she felt it, a warm pressure, as if Val Con had kissed her cheek.

  Smiling, she stepped into the parlor.

  “Show me, please,” she said.

  The screen came live, one half displaying the projected course, with deceleration rates, approach path, and approximate time of arrival on their doorstep.

  The other half of the screen showed a distant view of the object itself, rocklike as it was. As she watched, a ghost overlaid and dwarfed the approaching vessel: the image of the ship that had brought Jelaza Kazone, house and Tree, all of yos’Galan’s household goods, with room left over for a few atmosphere flyers to get tucked ’round the edges, to Surebleak.

  “Courier ship,” she said. Jeeves must’ve figured she was talking to herself, because he didn’t answer.

  She felt the sense of Val Con’s interested attention intensify, and then fade, as if he was satisfied with both the ship and its proposed docking, and had stepped back into being Road Boss.

  Frowning, she scrutinized the screens again. Seventeen and a half minutes, more or less, before Emissary Twelve was with them. Time for a cup of coffee.

  Surebleak Port

  Portmaster’s Office

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Portmaster Liu had a headache.

  In fact, she had earned her headache. Angry star captains, suddenly legal Complex Logics offering to do orbital cleanup as a way to redeem their good name, a not-quite hostile survey team bent on tripping her up, and now—the dubious pleasure of having a Clutch ship approach the planet in her care for the second time in her tenure as portmaster.

  It had been…tense, when the Big Rock had come into Surebleak space for the purpose of off-loading the Road Boss’s house and effects. It had been tense, despite she’d had plenty of warning, and a plan, and an approach that the Big Rock had scrupulously followed.

  Still…the Big Rock had been—big. If something had gone wrong…but nothing had gone wrong, and it turned out that she had wasted a lot of perfectly good anxiety on that mission.

  It had taken the arrival of the Little Rock coming in, so far as the instruments were concerned, straight from Galaxy Nowhere, blazing a trail across all lanes of traffic and by some fool’s luck managing not to collide with anything or punch a hole in the planet, but settling down, light and sweet as you please, in the Road Boss’s driveway.

  It was a truth among the Guild that the Clutch were a law unto themselves. Clutch ships rarely put into Terran ports; that was the good news. Of those very, very few that did, some actually made an attempt to obey port direction. Witness the Big Rock. The limitations of their drive made this a nontrivial exercise however, and most just followed their own inclinations and the port worked around them.

  Still, it would’ve been…better if the Clutch had put off any visits to their ally, the Road Boss, until after the survey team had finished up their business and left planet.

  In fact, it would’ve been…neighborly of the Road Boss to give Port Admin a
tiny hint that such a visitation was about to occur.

  That brought her up. Say what you would about the Road Boss and most of Conrad’s people, in matters of port safety, they were stringent. If the Road Boss had known they had company coming, they’d’ve called. That would’ve been most like them. Still, it had to be checked.

  She was reaching for the comm to put the question directly to the Road Boss, but it beeped first, interoffice, and Carla, on reception, was saying that Survey Team Leader Kasveini would like a word.

  Of course she would. The survey team would need to know if Clutch traffic was a usual thing and, if so, what protocols the port was putting into place to deal with the disruption in normal traffic flow.

  The survey team would probably also want to know why this particular Clutch ship wasn’t landing at the port at all, but making straight for a landing at the Road Boss’s house. Which they’d be obliged to see as suspicious, in keeping with their theme of Tree-and-Dragon was bad for Surebleak and the rest of the universe, too.

  The portmaster ran her hand through her hair.

  “Portmaster?” asked Carla, sounding worried.

  Right.

  Portmaster Liu sat up straight behind her desk, smoothed her hair, and settled her face in lines of calm authority.

  “Thank you, Carla,” she said calmly. “Please show Team Leader Kasveini in.”

  Surebleak Orbital Influence Zone

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Theo wasn’t exactly lazing at the board, but her concentration was elsewhere when Clarence repeated his question, louder.

  “Would the Captain, currently lazing at her boards, be interested in turning her chair over to her second and visiting the mess for the duration of her break?”

  The message having reached her, she raised a hand, fingers shaping hold, her head filled with the intricate dance of gravity, rock, flotsam, jetsam, and scrap. It was a complicated dance, and even with Bechimo’s assistance, demanded very nearly all of her attention—until, it began to fade, the bridge overlaying the gyrations of junk.

  “Theo,” Bechimo said quietly, “I’ve stored the data and am updating real-time. You can come back to it very easily later. At the moment, the crew needs your attention.”