Traffic was sparse, half of it seeming to consist of children at play, white, Eskimo, Aleut, Injun, mixed-breed, among excited mongrels and dignified malemute dogs. Now and then a rider clopped by or a horsecart trundled past. Adult pedestrians usually gave Ronica a hail. Men and women were clad much alike, in her style though often affecting ornaments; men tended to beards and long hair, women to braids halfway down their backs. A town smell filled the air, blent of salt water, tar, fish, smoke, humanity. The sun was clouded over in the west; lamplight glimmered from windows.
Ronica proceeded to the Wolf building, climbed its steps, crossed its porch, went through its main door. The lobby was spacious and gracious, floored and paneled in swirl-grained hardwoods, with ancestral portraits and trophies on the walls, a stone fireplace where logs blazed to pick rafters out of shadow. Of the several exits, most were open to anybody. Ronica identified herself at the reception counter and got admission up a particular staircase, to a particular office.
Its door was closed. Through the dimness of the corridor, she saw
that the emblem of a Lodgemaster had been newly repainted – rifle and plowshare crossed above an open book, reminder that the Lodges had originated out of the need to fight as well as to cooperate and conserve knowledge. She scowled at that. The Mong Wars had long since died away, but the Maurai –
The clerk below had not said Benyo Smith demanded to be left undisturbed. Ronica wanted to discharge her immediate obligation by reporting to him, then seek her mother and stepfather. She rapped. ‘Come in,’ said his voice over the transom.
Obeying, she saw weariness on his aquiline countenance; but he sat erect behind the desk, white hair and goatee like banners of defiance. A visitor rose to
give
her a courtly bow.
Maurai influence,
she thought in distaste. The gesture was doubly out of place because he wore the blue tunic and trousers of a Union naval officer, insignia of captain’s rank embroidered on the sleeves.
‘Ronica!’ Benyo exclaimed softly. ‘Welcome … welcome home, my dear.’
‘Will the lady permit me to introduce myself?’ the stranger said. ‘Mikli Karst.’
‘Ronica Birken.’ She shook hands. He made the clasp linger a trifle while they observed each other by lampglow and fading daylight.
He seemed to be in his late forties, short and scrawny but agile in his movements. His head was large, bearing a long sharp nose, small ice-blue eyes, close-cropped gray hair and beard. Between thin lips, his teeth showed snaggly. His voice was rather high and hurried. Yet when he smiled, a transformation went over that face; he knew well how to charm.
She turned to Benyo. ‘Sir, the expedition was successful,’ she declared. ‘Shall I give you the details tomorrow?’
‘No, please, at once.’ Joy shone from the old man. ‘Sit down. This calls for a celebration.’ He went to take bottle and glasses from a cabinet.
‘Which my arrival did not.’ Mikli Karst chuckled in Ronica’s direction. ‘Quite all right. You’re far better-looking than me.’
‘You can speak freely,’ Benyo assured her. ‘Captain Karst is in the Intelligence Corps. He knows about Orion, probably more than I do, and he’s served us well. In fact, he was just relating his most recent exploit against the enemy.’
‘Not to brag,’ the newcomer said. ‘Mind you, I’m as great a
braggart as the next man. But in this case, experience convinced me we need improved security, fast. I came here to discuss that with your leaders on the spot.’
Ronica shed her pack and accepted a drink. It was fine whiskey, which smoked across her tongue and down her gullet. Relaxation felt equally warm throughout her muscles.
Mikli Karst took forth a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, was refused, and lit it for himself. His fingertips were stained yellow. She was glad that half-open windows let out the stench. ‘I take it,’ he said, ‘you’ve been questing for fissionables.’
‘How do you know?’ the Lodgemaster asked.
The officer shrugged. ‘Obviously Missy Birken has been in the outback.’ (‘
Missy
,’ ‘
outback
,’ she thought –
Mauraiisms.
But they gave no reason to doubt his loyalty. She had seen foreign influence aplenty in the cities of the South, and heard ever more people of her generation questioning the values of the Northwest Union, the entire civilization that it embodied.) ‘Her accouterments, her suntan.’ He grinned. ‘It takes considerable exposure to get a suntan in this climate. What would have required that, and been so important that immediately upon her return she comes to none less than you, sir? What but a search for nuclear explosives?’
He blew a smoke ring. ‘We know how the material salvaged for the power project was confiscated by our esteemed opponents after the war,’ he continued lazily. ‘However, I’ve always taken it for a certainty that there were military stocks, tactical weapons, in Laska before the Doom, and it seems unlikely to me that every last missile got ejaculated in that spectacular orgasm. The problem would be to find the remnants, centuries later, in a tremendous and sparsely settled territory.’ He glanced at Ronica. ‘I daresay you had clues.’
‘Not I, at first,’ she said. ‘Men who went through the Rangle Mountains – traders and trappers, mostly—heard rumors from the native tribes that might indicate something. They had no idea what. But we always question their kind about everything that’s happened to them, whenever they show up. That’s no giveaway, you realize. Why should the Lodge
not
want to keep tabs on the wilderness? It’s bloodyfart little – uh, pardon me, Master Smith –damn little we do know. Anyhow, the accumulated stories seemed to call for investigation, and I volunteered.’
‘Ronica is a special person,’ Benyo said with pride. ‘She’s a professional Survivor who now has a degree in electronic
engineering. She’ll work across the channel, in between checking out possibilities like this.’
‘An admirable idea,’ Mikli Karst said. ‘My compliments to the chef.’
Benyo leaned over the desk. His gaunt frame quivered. ‘How much did you find, Ronica?’
‘Three intact warheads,’ she told them. ‘And evidently more that’ve disintegrated; but the stuff should be recoverable from the soil. Uranium, to judge by the radiation pattern, so no serious toxicity problem.’ Excitement came to life again. It was as if once more she stood on that rocky slope, in that thin cold rain, and heard her counter cry out. Her husky voice dropped lower. ‘Half-life, millions of years, you know. I estimate we can go fetch us a dozen kilotonnes’ worth. The site’s above timberline, so hardly anybody ever comes by, but it’s got enough remnants of construction, deep rust stains in the rock, and so forth, that stray hunters shortcutting between valleys noticed. Don’t worry about them blabbing. They’re savages pure and simple, deathly afraid of the Old Ghosts.’
She leaned back, crossed her legs, and tossed off a gulp of liquor that made Mikli raise his brows, most respectfully.
He contracted them after that, turned to Benyo, and said: ‘Sir, we’d better plan the recovery operation as carefully as porcupines make love. As I was warning you, the Maurai Inspectorate has become suspicious. Inevitable, no doubt. Secrets are notoriously fragile, even when they’re tucked away in the back of beyond. We’ve managed to misdirect the opposition thus far.’
He chuckled. ‘If I may claim credit, and just try to stop me, it was my idea, years ago, to start the notion that mutterings about “Orion” were nothing but the standard legend that a subjugated nation commonly develops, of a sleeping hero or god who will someday awake to set it free and reign over it in peace and justice and every such implausibility. I persuaded various anthropologists to publish papers –’ He sobered, stubbed his cigarette, took a fresh one, and added, ‘But we can’t dine out on that forever. The latest Maurai mission got far closer to goal than I liked.’
‘You were about to tell me.’ Benyo said. Ronica decided she was in no hurry to get home; this should be interesting.
‘Well,’ the other began, ‘it started with an intelligence officer of theirs coming to the liaison headquarters in Vittohrya and demanding a tour north. Information pointed toward something under way
in Laska, something forbidden by the peace treaty, and he had orders to go check up. I’d guess the recent demise of the High Commissioner had exacerbated matters.’
Ronica frowned. She had been saddened by that news. While a student at the university, she heard nothing but good of Ruori Haakonu. Yes, he was in charge of curbing the sovereignty of the Union, least it massively revive that high-energy technology the Maurai abhorred; but he did his task with tact, humanity, helpfulness. She would fight what he stood for, but she could well understand why many of her contemporaries were doubting that their parents had been right after all. A number of her female classmates had confessed to being in love with him.
‘He had to go,’ Mikli Karst said, ‘but we were bound to get a reaction among his friends.’
Benyo and Ronica started in their chairs. ‘What?’ the Lodgemaster whispered. ‘It was an accidental death, wasn’t it? A fete, an archery contest, a blind man who wanted to try under guidance but misheard the instructions –’
‘As you will,’ the officer replied. ‘In any event, he was too effective. When Orion rises, we don’t want our people full of self-doubt, do we? They’ll be stunned as is. Better they first spend a few years under a less likable Maurai High Commissioner.’
He seemed to feel the shock in his listeners, for he went on deftly: ‘This agent of theirs, then, insisted on going north to poke around. As per doctrine, his principal guide, allegedly civilian, was from my corps, and happened to be me. I must say that Terai Lohannaso
is
an impressive fellow. Middle-aged but bull-strong, bull-sized; possessed of an adequate if perhaps not exactly scintillating mind; withal, a disarmingly soft-spoken and friendly sort.’
Ronica’s own mind stirred. That name – No, she couldn’t lay hand on whatever the memory was.
‘Like the rest of us, most of whom were entirely sincere, I told him I knew of nothing illicit, but he was welcome to look wherever he chose, and I’d make the trip as easy as possible for him and his staff,’ Mikli continued. ‘Oh, that became quite a trip!
‘I took him to a Tlingit settlement, hoping their well-known festiveness would distract him. Instead, he ate and drank
them
to the ground, and was champing to be off next morning. Not far from Kenai, he noticed faint signs, broke out his instruments, dug down, and found a buried power cable – a monstrously thick thing, but he
lifted it in his bare hands, seeing the current: was off. I did my best to convince him it was ancient – who’d be that lavish with copper nowadays? – but well preserved by its insulation, and used by a hydroelectric station serving the locality. I took him to the station, but plainly he was skeptical, and I decided best he and his party suffer a regrettable accident. He was climbing a mountain, carrying an infrared detector, to make sure a heat source he’d spotted was not artificial. My assistant triggered an avalanche in the snowfield above. Nobody else with him escaped alive, but he did. Incredible! It was as if he
swam
in that roaring mass.… He was injured, though, besides having lost most of his group, and must needs give up and go back to recuperate.’
Mikli scowled. ‘He’ll return, or colleagues of his will,’ he finished. ‘Communications may be thin and transportation slow, compared to the past before the Doom; likewise, intelligence corps are naive; but brains are as functional as ever. We shall have to improve our cover, to the point where we can safely receive Maurai inspectors right in Kenai.’
‘Can we?’ Benyo asked, a small tremor of age in his voice.
The visitor gestured expansively. ‘Oh, yes. I and my colleagues have given the matter a heap of thought. Our organization is ready to move; I’m only here to survey the area in detail and make specific recommendations. For example, in this vicinity – not hard by, but in this general vicinity – we can start work on what appears to be a clandestine nuclear powerplant that a syndicate supposedly is building to produce synthetic fuels. We can let the Maurai discover it, with enough difficulty to make them believe they’ve cracked the secret. Less elaborate arrangements might suffice, to be sure. We’ll see. Don’t worry, Master Smith. Orion shall rise. The safeguards will be directed by a highly competent troublemaker, namely me.’
Benyo did not look altogether happy.
Mikli switched his jaybird glance to Ronica. ‘You’ve made a magnificent contribution, my lady,’ he said. I’m not sure but what you’re being wasted in Laska. How would you like to see the rest of the world? I go to and fro in it.’
Taken aback, she could merely reply, ‘You’re moving a little fast, aren’t you, Captain?’
He laughed. ‘The offer is honest, or presumably will be after I’ve had a chance to learn more about you. We might make a first-chop team. If you also choose to explore how we might do recreationally.
I’ll be enchanted; but if not, don’t worry, I can behave myself. Your physique suggests I’d better.’
He made social talk for a while longer and took his leave, arranging to meet Benyo again in the morning.
When the door had closed behind him, Ronica shifted her weight. The windows were now full of dusk, the room full of its chill. ‘I should be on my way too, sir,’ she said. ‘I’ll write up my notes and give them to you as soon’s may be. If you want, I can guide the recovery team, but that isn’t necessary, and, uh, to be frank, I’m kind of anxious to try my hand at the work undermountain.’
Benyo nodded. ‘Quite.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ll probably have more dealings with Captain Karst.’
‘M-m-m.… I dunno. What can you tell me about him?’
‘Nothing in depth, but we have had encounters in the past, he and I. And one hears things.’ Benyo searched for words. ‘Be careful, dear. He’s a strange and not very savory character. Grew up as a guttersnipe in the slums of Seattle; some say his mother was a prostitute. Got into trouble, was sent to sea. Served on a privateer in the Whale War, later joined the regular Navy and distinguished himself as an intelligence officer in the Power War. Meanwhile he’d been accepted into the Salmon Lodge, and afterward expelled. The reason was never made public, as usual, but the story goes it was because of misconduct with a boy. Possibly that’s untrue. He did marry, into a wealthy house, his father-in-law a Wolf, and his wife seems devoted to him in spite of everything. And as you heard today, he is invaluable to Orion. He may well be our next head of security here; Ab Munso is about ready for retirement. But have a care.’