Lord of Janissaries Page 21

  “You still don’t understand,” Gwen said. “You have to warn him now. Rick, no matter who wins tomorrow, we’ve got to be certain the victor has enough power to be sure of growing surinomaz.”

  “The hell we do. You’ve just told me that dealing with the Shalnuksis isn’t very smart. So we just vanish. Hide in the caves when they show up. Let them whistle for their drugs.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Gwen said. “Rick, you said your university would be important to the people of Tran. You seemed to care.”

  “Sure, I’d like to accomplish something worthwhile,” Rick said.

  “That surinomaz crop is more important than your university,” Gwen said. “And to far more people than just those on Tran. It’s important to the whole human race.”

  2

  Rick refilled his wine cup. “I think you’d better explain that last statement,” he said carefully. “You’ve told me often enough that this surinomaz crop isn’t worth that much to the Shalnuksis. How can it be important to the whole human race?”

  “It’s a long story,” Gwen said.

  Rick looked at his watch. “We’ve got between four and six hours before the gunpowder blows. That ought to be long enough. Only this time tell me the whole story. I’m tired of trying to operate in the dark.”

  “You haven’t done too badly,” Gwen said. “All right. If the Shalnuksis send a ship and find out there’s not been a harvest and won’t ever be one, they won’t send another. But if they think there’ll be good harvests, they’ll arrange for ships to come every year the crop will be good. Eventually they’ll have to send Les.”

  “Jesus Christ. Gwen, are you still in love with that SOB?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I am. Not that it matters.” She spoke defiantly. “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s wrong. Rick, he didn’t just throw me out. I could have gone with him.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because they wouldn’t have let our baby live.”

  “They? Who? And why not?”

  “The Confederacy. They breed their human servants. Even if they’d let my baby be born, they wouldn’t have let me raise it. All their human children grow up in a school.”

  “Gwen, what the hell are you talking about? Breed humans?”

  “For loyalty,” Gwen said. “But sometimes they breed in ‘wild’ humans from Earth to give the strain initiative. Les had a wild grandmother, and they won’t allow more wild genes in his line. Rick, I know it sounds fantastic.”

  “Fantastic. That’s a good word,” Rick said. “How long has this been going on?”

  “At least five thousand years.”

  Five thousand years. “And you believe that?”

  “Yes. Everything I saw in the ship’s data banks is consistent with it. And look how long they’ve been coming to Tran.”

  “But five thousand years? Gwen, all that time, and they’ve never made an official visit to any government on Earth. All that time they’ve been dealing with us without contact—”

  “They can’t and they won’t,” Gwen said. “They don’t allow barbarians in their Confederacy. They have a stable union of nearly a hundred races. Most of those never did have periods of unlimited growth. When they run into an aggressively unstable race, there’s usually a war. They’ve exterminated some races they decided were hopelessly barbaric. As a result, they’ve achieved what human philosophers always wanted but no one really believes we’ll ever have: universal peace and order and stability.”

  “If they’re so damned peace-loving, why have they kept raiding Tran? Why drop atom bombs on their last expedition?”

  “The Shalnuksis aren’t peace-loving,” Gwen said. “They just don’t have any choices in the matter. They’re a long-lived race, and Tran is a—Les called it a family business. The Shalnuksis don’t want Tran industrialized, and the Confederacy doesn’t know about Tran.”

  “There was a police inspector. Agzaral. He knew all about it,” Rick said.

  “Agzaral and some of the other humans know. They’re keeping it secret from their government.”

  Why wouldn’t there be corruption in a bureaucracy five thousand years old? “And your friend Les is helping them keep it a secret?”

  “Yes.” Gwen fought tears. “Rick, it’s not what you think. It’s so hard to explain! Have you ever heard of janissaries?”

  “Sure. Slave soldiers of the Ottoman Empire. Administrators, too. They pretty well ran the empire for the Turks. Taken in childhood as tribute from Christian subjects and brought up in schools, lived in barracks and forbidden to marry—God almighty! Gwen, what are you driving at?”

  “What you’ve guessed. Humans aren’t members of the Confederacy, but human soldiers and policemen and administrators like Inspector Agzaral enforce the Confederacy policies. That’s why Earth has a special status—not taken into the Confederacy and not interfered with. They need a strain of wild humans to mix in with their tame janissaries.”

  “Slave soldiers. Bred for loyalty, and raised in creches—Gwen, do you believe all this?”

  “Yes. Why would Les make it up? Why would he say he was a slave?” she demanded. “He was crying when he told me. He said he felt like a dog attacking his master, like a traitor—”

  “If they’re that loyal, why was he betraying them? All because of you?”

  “No. Oh, maybe partly,” Gwen said. “But that’s not the real reason. Rick, he said it was important that the Confederacy never learn about Tran because—he said the Confederacy’s governing council is worried, now that humans on Earth are going into space. Some of the Council wants to knock Earth back to the Stone Age. Agzaral thinks that may have happened once already. Don’t you see, the humans are being torn apart! They’re bred for loyalty to the Confederacy, but they’re humans, too. They don’t know what to do or who to trust.”

  “Does this council truly expect human soldiers to bomb Earth?” Rick asked.

  “The Confederacy Council doesn’t know who to trust either,” Gwen said. “But there are humans who argue it’s the best thing. That wild humans simply can’t be allowed to get loose with their crazy ideas about unlimited growth and continuous progress. They’ve enforced the peace for thousands of years, and that’s more important to them than a planet they’ve never lived on. But other humans want to save Earth. The Council doesn’t know what to do, and neither do Agzaral and his people.

  “Some of the janissaries—I may as well call them that,” she said. “Some of the janissaries want the Confederacy to force Earth into membership. It would mean that the Confederacy Council would interfere in Earth’s government. Humans would have to accept the Council’s policies. Stability. Limited growth. The end of what we think of as progress.”

  “I see,” Rick said. “They call it ‘stability.’ But there’s another word for a society that hasn’t changed in thousands of years. Stagnant. Or decadent.”

  “That’s almost exactly what Les said. His group wants to do more than just save Earth from destruction. They want—Rick, it sounds trite, but they want humanity left free.”

  “But where does Tran come in?” Rick asked.

  “If they do bomb Earth, or even if they just make Earth into another decadent member of the Confederacy, humans on Tran will still be free. With any luck, one of Agzaral’s people—probably Les himself—will be sent here to collect the drugs. Only this time he won’t be leaving on such short notice. They can bring translations of their textbooks. Scientific equipment. And they’ve got the kind of bureaucracy you’d expect after five thousand years of stasis. Agzaral thinks they might even be able to lose a ship in the recordkeeping and send it here after the Shalnuksis have gone away.”

  “Except that the Shalnuksis will be doing their best to kill off anyone who could help Tran progress beyond the Iron Age—”

  “Yes. They will. They’ll almost certainly bomb the groups they’ve been trading with. But they might trust that mission to Les or one of hi
s friends. They don’t like long journeys to out-of-the-way places. That’s one chance, anyway. And another is to hide. They won’t kill everyone on Tran. They can’t afford to, because they’ll want to do some more drug trading six hundred years from now.”

  Rick shook his head. “They’ve got the stars. Why do they traffic in drugs?”

  “You don’t understand real decadence,” Gwen said. “Who are the heavy drug users on Earth? It’s not the poor and downtrodden who have big parties with bowls of cocaine.”

  “And I suppose the Shalnuksis make a lot of—what? Money? Do they have money? Anyway, the drug trade profits them.”

  “It must,” Gwen said. “But I wonder if they do it for profits at all. It must be a game to them. Excitement.” She thought for a moment. “Take the Mafia as an example. Surely the top dons are fabulously rich already. They could retire, go legitimate, but they don’t. It must be like that for the Shalnuksis.”

  “So if we don’t grow the drugs, your friends won’t have any legitimate reason to come here.”

  “Yes. And the first ship here may bomb the planet before we’ve had time to prepare—”

  “And this is why you were hiding?”

  “Yes. It was all we could think of to do. Les didn’t have much time to talk to me. He was afraid the ship was bugged. He had to whisper everything to me in bed. He didn’t want to leave me here, but I wouldn’t let his damned machine abort my baby, and there wasn’t another choice. He told me to run away and hide and stay a long way away from where they’d be growing surinomaz. When we heard Parsons plotting to throw you out, we thought I’d have a better chance if I stayed with you. Les even told me to marry you. Maybe I would have, too, if you hadn’t met your raven-haired beauty.”

  Rick didn’t know what to say to that. Would he have found Gwen attractive if he hadn’t met Tylara? It hardly mattered, and it was too late to worry about, anyway.

  It was too late to worry about anything. He looked at his watch. Five and a half hours at most. And a battle to be fought in the morning. The battle didn’t seem so important now. What was? Assume what Gwen said was true. What should he do about it?

  “I wish you’d told me earlier,” Rick said. “This makes—it makes everything we’ve done rather trivial.”

  “Not really. You’ve done rather well.”

  “I’ve survived. Look, we don’t need André’s military equipment. I presume that you’ve got communications gear. You’d have to, if you expect Les to find you again.”

  She nodded. “I have a transceiver. He told me when to listen, and not to answer unless I hear a certain code phrase.”

  “So. I guess I can grow the damned crops for the Shalnuksis. Maybe we can even work it so they don’t kill too many people with their bloody bombs. Tylara says the caves under Castle Dravan are even deeper than those in The Garioch. But it’s pure dumb luck we can do what’s needed because you wouldn’t tell me enough to let me make an intelligent plan.”

  “I wish I had,” Gwen said. “But I didn’t really trust your abilities. We—Les and I—thought Parsons was right: that you were too inexperienced, that Parsons would have a much better chance.

  “But Rick, it wasn’t blind luck. Sure, all you were working for was survival, but you’re an ethical man. I don’t think it’s luck at all. Ethical actions may be the best survival tactics after all. I wish I’d acted that way. Instead I trusted Parsons, knowing he’d use brutal tactics—and he failed completely. I wish we’d warned you about the mutiny and told you everything we knew.”

  “So do I.”

  He thought about what she’d said. Had he acted ethically? Not always. He had tried, and that had to count for something.

  Ethics as the best survival policy, even without complete information? He wasn’t sure he could accept that as a general proposition, even though it had worked here and now and this time. The most you could say for sure is that if you did the ethical thing and you did survive, you’d have an easier time living with yourself.

  Which, he thought, brings up another point. He sighed and turned toward the door. “Jamiy.”

  “Sir.” The orderly came into the pavilion.

  “We took one of Sarakos’ officers prisoner this afternoon,” Rick said. “Bring him to me, and bring me parchment, pen, and ink.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why do you want him?” Gwen asked.

  “Ethics. You said that the most practical action is the ethical one. I’m not sure I believe that, but I am sure I’ve got no business sitting here waiting for a bomb to go off under a dozen men I brought to this planet.”

  Her eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should have done in the first place,” Rick said. “I’m going to send a letter to André Parsons and offer to parley.”

  3

  “Man, are ye daft?” Drumold demanded. “We hae won, and you would throw it away.” He looked sideways at Rick. “I had thought you loyal—”

  “They are his countrymen,” Tylara said. “As is Gwen. We are not.”

  “You know better,” Rick said angrily. “Aye. They are my countrymen. I brought them here, as Tylara reminded me. And if bringing them made me responsible to the people they oppressed am I less responsible to my own men?” And then, bitterly: “You are in no danger. Dughuilas never tires of saying that I have never fought in a battle. You do not need me.”

  “If you are offended by Dughuilas’ words, I will have his head brought to you,” Drumold said. “Och, talk sense. You know full well your value to us. As do we. Wi’out your direction we fight as we did before you came, as a mob. ’Tis your craft that bested the Romans. If we have not often enough told you that we know your value, I tell you now. Do not be offended by hasty words spoken wi’out thought. I do not doubt your loyalty, and well can I understand that you wish to save your countrymen. But think of the risk!”

  “I have,” Rick said. “It’s mostly to me. I’ve planned the battle for you. The catapults and ballista are in place, and their officers know how to use them as well as I do. You know what weapons Parsons has—if they survive. I have not told him of the gunpowder buried beneath the village, and it’s likely he’ll go back there if our talk fails to convince him.”

  “I do not care for this at all,” Drumold said.

  “Nor I.” Tylara pointed to Gwen. “What has she said to take away your senses?”

  “I didn’t want him to do this!” Gwen protested.

  “It would take too long to explain,” Rick said. “But I tell you this. If I am killed tonight or tomorrow, the only way you’ll live through the Time is to listen to Gwen and do as she tells you.” He looked at his watch. “It’s time to go. I told Parsons I’d meet him and Elliot and one other on the road midway between the lines. Mason—”

  “No sir.”

  “Eh?”

  “I said, ‘No, sir.’ This is a volunteer job, Cap’n, and I’m not volunteering.”

  “I see. Maybe that’s wise of you. All right, I’ll go alone.”

  “I do not think I should permit you to go at all.” Drumold said.

  “I doubt you can stop me,” Rick said. He held his hand near the holstered Mark IV .45. “I don’t doubt you could kill me, but that seems a strange way to save my life.”

  Drumold stood aside.

  “That’s all then,” Rick said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  * * *

  All was quiet at the forward outpost. Rick stared out into the darkness. Tran’s outer moon gave very little light, and he could see nothing on the road ahead. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Mason.

  “I’d feel better if you were coming along,” Rick said. “But you’re right. You’re needed more here. If I don’t come back, take charge of the catapults. A dozen of them firing grenades ought to knock out Parsons’ machine-gun.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. Cap’n, I’d like it a lot if you didn’t do this, but I know you have to. I don’t believe you can talk sense to Pars
ons, but I hope I’m wrong. He’s got some pretty good men with him. Elliot, McCleve, Campbell—”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Rick said. “Okay, here I go.”

  He was startled by another voice behind him. “Wait,” Tylara said. “I am coming with you.”

  Like hell you are. He stopped and turned. “No.”

  “Yes. You have said there is no danger to you. If there is none to you, there is less to me.”

  “You won’t even understand what we’re saying,” Rick protested. “We will speak in English—”

  “Yet I am going,” Tylara said. “Do you think I wish to live twice widowed but not yet a bride?” She smiled softly. “And I give you the same reply you gave my father. You cannot stop me without killing me, and that is a strange way to protect my life.”

  Oh, bloody hell. And she means it, too. “All right. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  There were footsteps on the road ahead. Rick halted. “André?” he called.

  “Yes. Hello, Rick.”

  There was no mistaking that bantering voice. “Who’s with you?”

  “Sergeant Elliot and Corporal Bisso,” Parsons said.

  “Let me hear them.”

  “It’s us, Captain,” Elliot’s voice called from the darkness. “Nobody else.”

  “And who is with you?” Parsons asked.

  “Tylara do Tamaerthon,” Tylara replied.

  Now where did she learn enough English to know when to answer? Rick wondered. Mason?

  “You have brought a woman?” Parsons asked.

  “Sure, André. This is a flag-of-truce meeting. I didn’t think I needed bodyguards.”

  The low laughter came back. “Still naïve, my young friend. Well, this time you were correct. I have brought no more than you have heard. Do we now stand and shout in the darkness?”

  “No. There’s a hill about a hundred yards to the left. It’s bare on top. We’ll go up there and sit. I’ve brought a dark lantern.”