Throne of Stars (11 page)

“I could kind of understand getting involved in planetary reconstruction,” Despreaux commented. “Some of those planets were even worse off than Armagh. But leaving your main base completely uncovered was just idiotic.”

“And why did they do that?” Kosutic asked, and proceeded to answer her own question. “They had to. They were already so wrapped up with social welfare programs that they couldn’t build the sort of fleet and garrison force they needed and still be redistributionist. So they depended on bluff, sent the entire damned fleet off to try to do some planet-building, and the Daggers nipped in and ate the Solar System’s lunch.”

“The Daggers were very good at killing the golden goose,” Roger said. “But we—the MacClintocks, that is—learned that lesson pretty well.”

“Did we?” Kosutic asked. “Did we really?”

“Oh, no,” Roger moaned. “This isn’t another one of those ‘let’s not tell Roger,’ things, is it?”

“No.” The sergeant major laughed, but her eyes were on the native ship they’d come to meet, and her gaze was wary as Poertena wore around its stern, preparing to come alongside to port. “But take a good look at your grandfather’s career,” she continued, “and then tell me we’ve learned. Another person who’d never worked a day in his life and thought the lower classes were somehow magical. And, therefore, that they should be coddled, paid, and overprotected . . . at the expense of the Fleet and the Saint borders.”

“Well, that’s one mistake
I
would never make as Emperor,” Roger joked as Poertena completed his maneuver. “I know you’re all a bunch of lying, lazy pockers.”

“Be about time to hail,” Poertena said. The ship and the catamaran were about a hundred meters apart now, on near parallel headings, with the cat slightly to the rear of the much larger merchant ship. Since that put the wind at their stern, Poertena had brought the sail in until it was luffing and dangerously close to jibing, or falling over to the other side of the boat. It might make them a little anxious about collisons between things like heads and booms, but it also slowed them down enough that they wouldn’t pass the slower Mardukan ship.

“Get us a little closer,” Roger ordered as he unclipped the harness and secured it to the mast. “I need to be able to hear their reply. And I don’t see any guns.”

“Odd, that,” Kosutic said. “I agree we need to get closer, but if those are pirates, or even letters of marque, chasing them, you’d think they would have defenses. And I don’t even see a swivel gun.”

“Something else to ask about,” Roger said as Poertena fell off to starboard. The change quickly filled the sail, set as it was for a reach, and the cat began skipping across the rolling swell.

“Shit!” Despreaux flattened herself and tried to figure out where to move as it suddenly seemed obvious that the cat was about to go clear over on its side.

“
Hooowah!
” the prince said with a laugh, throwing his weight back outboard again to offset the heel. “Don’t dunk us, for God’s sake, Poertena! We’re trying to show our good side.”

“And
I
cannot swim,” Cord added.

“Lifejackets!” Roger laughed. “I knew we forgot something!”

“T’is close enough?” Poertena asked as he brought the boat back to port with a degree more caution. They had closed to within sixty meters or so, and the Mardukan ship’s crew was clearly evident, lining the side, many of them with weapons in their hands.

“Close enough,” Roger agreed, then stood back up and grasped a line to stay steady. “Try not to flop us around too much.”

“What? And have you get all wet and sloppy?” Despreaux said.

“Hea’en forbid!” Poertena laughed. “I try. Never know, though.”

“You’d better,” Kosutic growled. “Straight and steady.”

“Just keep us on this heading,” Kerr said to the helmsman. “They don’t seem to be threatening us. And I don’t see what they’d be able to do with that dinky little boat, anyway.”

“Who are they?” Pelu asked.

“How the hell do I know?” Kerr shot back in exasperation. “They look like giant
vern,
but that’s crazy.”

“What do we do if they want to come aboard?”

“We let them,” Kerr answered after a moment. “Their ships can run rings around us, and I think those ports showing on the sides are for bombards. If they are, there’s not much we can do but heave to and do whatever they say.”

“It’s not like you just to give up,” Pelu protested.

“They’re not Lemmar, and they’re not Fire Priests,” Kerr pointed out. “Given the choice of them, or the Lemmar and the priests, I’ll always take the unknown.”

“Here goes nothing,” Roger said.

“What language are you going to use?” Despreaux asked.

“The kernel that came with the program. It’s probably taken from the tribes around the starport, and we’re finally getting close to that continent. Hopefully it will at least be familiar to them for a change.” He cleared his throat.

“Hullo the ship!”

“Oh, Cran,” Pelu said.

“High Krath,” Kerr muttered. “Why did it have to be High Krath?”

“Are they Fire Priests?” the helmsman asked nervously. “It can’t be Fire Priests clear out here, can it?”

“It could be,” Kerr admitted heavily. “Those could be Guard vessels.”

“I never heard of the Guard having ships like that any more than the Lemmar,” Pelu said. “Anyway, they would’ve used Krath, not High Krath. Most Guard
officers
can’t speak High Krath.”

“But they’re not priests!” Kerr snarled, rubbing his horns furiously. “So where did they learn High Krath?”

“No response,” Despreaux said. The unnecessary comment made it evident just how nervous the veteran NCO was.

“They’re talking it over, though,” Roger said. “I think the two by the helmsman are the leaders.”

“Concur,” the sergeant major agreed. “But they aren’t acting real happy to see us.”

“Oh, well,” Roger sighed. “Time to up the ante.
Permission to come aboard?
”

“Well, at least they’re asking,” Pelu observed. “That’s something.”

“That’s odd, is what it is,” Kerr answered. He stepped to the rail and took a glance at the more distant ships. They had crossed his course almost a glass before, and then swung back to the west. At this point, they were still to his east and the range from them to
Rain Daughter
would have been opening as she ran past them on her southeasterly heading . . . except for how close they were to the wind. As it was, their nearest approach was still to come. But it didn’t seem that they intended any harm. Either that, or they were jockeying for a good wind position.

“What do we do?”

“Let them board,” Kerr said. His curiosity was getting the better of his good sense, and he knew it. But he didn’t suppose, realistically speaking, that he had very many options, anyway. “One, I want to know who they are. Two, if we’ve got part of their crew on board, they’re less likely to attack us.”

He walked over to the rail and waved both true-hands.

“Come aboard!”

Roger caught the dangling line and swarmed up it. Technically, he should have let either Kosutic or Despreaux go first, and he could hear the sergeant major’s curses even through the sound of rigging and water. But of the three of them, he was the most familiar with small boats, and he felt that even if it was a deliberate trap, he could probably shoot his way clear of the four-person welcoming party.

The scummies waiting for him were subtly different from those on the far continent. They were definitely shorter than the Vashin Northerners who made up the bulk of the cavalry, closer to the Diasprans in height. Their horns were also significantly different, with less of a curve and with less prominent age ridges. Part of that might have been cosmetic, though, because at least one of them had horns which had clearly been dyed. They were also wearing clothes, which, except for armor, had been a catch-as-catch-can item on the far continent. The “clothing” was a sort of leather kilt, evidently with a loincloth underneath. Otherwise (unless they were
very
unlike any of the other Mardukans the humans had met), certain “parts” would be showing under the kilt. The two leaders also wore baldrics which supported not only swords, but also a few other tools, and even what were apparently writing implements.

The leader of the foursome, the one who had waved for them to board, stepped forward. His horns were undyed and long, indicating a fairly good age for a Mardukan. He wasn’t as old as Cord, though, or if he was, he was in better condition, because his skin was firm and well coated in slime, without the occasional dry spots that indicated advanced age in the locals.

Roger raised both hands in a gesture of peace. It wasn’t taking much of a chance; he could still draw and fire before any of the four raised a weapon.

“I am pleased to meet you,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly and using the words available on the kernel that was the only Mardukan language the software had initially offered. “I am Prince Roger MacClintock. I greet you in the name of the Empire of Man.”

“
Sadar
Tob Kerr . . . greet,” the officer responded.

Roger nodded gravely while he considered what the toot was telling him. The language the local was using was similar to the kernel, but it contained words which were additional to the kernel’s five-hundred-word vocabulary, combined with some that were clearly from another language entirely. It appeared that the leader was attempting to use the kernel language, but that it was a second language for him, not primary. The toot was flagging some of the words as probably being totally bogus. The captain—this Tob Kerr—clearly wasn’t a linguist.

“Use your own language, rather than the one I’m using,” Roger invited as Kosutic followed him over the side. If the others were on plan, Cord would be the next up, then Despreaux. Poertena would remain in the cat. “I will be able to learn it quickly,” he continued. “But I must ask questions, if I may. What is the nature of your position, and who are the ships that pursue you?”

“We are a . . . from the Krath to the . . . base at Strem. Our . . . was . . . by Lemmar Raiders. The Guard ships were destroyed, and we are the only ship who has made it this far. But the Lemmar are . . . I do not think we’ll . . . Strem, even if we can . . .”

Great
, Roger thought.
What the hell is Krath?
Then he realized that the answer was lodged in the back of his brain.

“Krath is the mainland ahead?” he asked. The toot automatically took the words it had already learned from the language the captain was using where it had them, and substituted kernel words where it didn’t. The sentence was marginally understandable.

“Yes,” the officer replied. “The Krath are the . . . of the Valley. Strem is a recent acquisition. The . . . is attempting to subdue the Lemmar Raiders, but taking Strem means they have to supply it. We were carrying supplies and ritual . . . for the garrison. But the Lemmar came upon us in force and took our escorts. Since then, these six have been running down the survivors. I believe we are the last.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Roger muttered. “Are the rest between us and the mainland?”

“Yes,” the local told him. “If you’re making for Kirsti, then they are on your path. They’re just below the horizon from the mast.”

“Great. Just . . . great,” Roger muttered again, then shook himself. “Tob Kerr, meet Sergeant Major Eva Kosutic, my senior noncommissioned officer.” Cord dropped to the deck, and Roger rested his left hand lightly on the shaman’s lower shoulder. “And this is D’Nal Cord, my
asi
.” He had to hope that the translation software could explain what an
asi
was.

“I greet you, as well,” Kerr said, then returned his attention to Roger and spoke earnestly. “Your ships can wear around and make sail for Strem. It’s less than a day’s sail from here, and you would surely make it. Those fine craft of yours are the fastest I’ve ever seen. But I cannot guarantee the garrison’s greeting when you arrive there—this convoy was important to them.”

“Are you getting this, Sergeant Major?” Roger asked, shutting off the translation circuit and slipping into Imperial.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the NCO replied. Roger’s toot had automatically updated her onboard software with its translations of the local language. As soon as he got back into proximity with the rest of the party, the updates would be transferred to them, as well, skipping from system to system. The Marine toots were well insulated against electronic attack, and while the greater capacity and power of Roger’s toot made him the logical person to do the initial translation, his much more paranoid design required a manual transfer, rather than the automatic network of the Marines.

“I’m still not sure of
what
the Lemmar are,” the prince continued. “But if this fellow is telling the truth, they’re enemies of the continental forces. And there are apparently a stack of prize ships, with some crew to fight, between us and the continent. Again, if this guy is telling the truth.”

“Pardon me,” Kerr interrupted, “but I’d like to ask a question of my own, if I may. Who
are
you, and where did you come from?”

“We came across the Eastern Ocean.” Roger trotted out the set response. “We are the first group we know of to actually make it, although others have tried. Our intent is to travel to the larger continent to the north—to Krath—and establish trade routes. But you say there are pirates between here and there?”

“Yes, both the six you see, and the prizes, some of whom are armed,” Kerr said. “And as far as I know, you are indeed the first group to make the crossing. A few from our side have also attempted the crossing, including one large group of ships. It was assumed that there were very hostile people on the far side of the ocean. I take it that was wrong?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kosutic broke in. “Your problem was very hostile and very large fish
between
here and there.
Coll
fish the size of a ship. We lost one of our vessels to one of them.”

“We must make decisions and communicate with the other ships,” Cord pointed out. Without a toot, the shaman was unable to understand anything Kerr had said, but, as always, he maintained his pragmatic focus on the matter in hand.