King David's Spaceship (codominion) Page 6

  Two fat men in plain clothing, wearing trousers rather than kilts, undecorated coats, and only a few jewels, their almost drab appearance contrasting strongly with MacKinnie and Dougal, rose languidly as they entered a large, plainly decorated room. Akelian waved MacKinnie and Dougal in, looked sternly at the civilians for a moment, and left without speaking.

  As soon as he had left the room, one of the Imperials laughed. “God bless the Navy,” he chuckled. “But may He grant that their lieutenants come of age soon. Good evening, gentlemen.”

  Dougal returned the greeting, then said formally, “Imperial Trader Soliman, I have the honor to present Trader Magnate MacKinnie, His Majesty’s servant and manager for this expedition. Trader MacKinnie, Imperial Trader Soliman of the Imperial Capital, and as I understand it an officer of the Imperial Traders Association.”

  MacKinnie watched them narrowly and noted that the fat man made no movement to offer his hand. MacKinnie bowed slightly, was rewarded with an even smaller bow, and turned to the next man.

  “Imperial Trader Renaldi, I present Trader Magnate MacKinnie,” Dougal purred.

  “My honor,” Renaldi said. When Nathan began his bow, Renaldi matched him, bending to within a degree of MacKinnie but not quite as deep. The difference might have been measured with calipers.

  “Gentlemen,” Soliman said, “this room is at our disposal for the time. Let us sit and enjoy ourselves like civilized beings.” He indicated couches drawn up in front of an open fire. As they sat, he continued, “Remarkable how peaceful it is to have a fire in the room with you. We haven’t used them in the capital for a long time now. There are very few houses with fireplaces, and I can’t remember when I last saw one lighted. I will have to have one installed on my return, a great aid to contemplation. Right, Chasar?”

  “It would be pleasant,” Renaldi said.

  “They are not quite so pleasant when they are your only source of heat,” Dougal said.

  “No, I suppose not,” Soliman said. He looked thoughtful. “When the Navy permits trade in such things, Imperial Autonetics will bring factories to make better heating systems. I expect we could sell many of them. “He sighed. “But the military departments never act quickly. It will probably be some time yet.”

  MacKinnie noted that both men spoke the language of North Continent almost perfectly, but with the careful pronunciations that indicated that it was a recently learned foreign tongue. Having never heard the Imperial language, he was not sure how close it would be to that used on Samual, although it would obviously be similar if Dougal were able to read the book his agents had stolen. Still, it must require some study, he thought, and therefore it followed that the Imperials either had some method of learning languages quickly, or that the Traders thought it important enough to spend the time and effort learning the local tongue. Either alternative seemed interesting.

  Soliman hovered around them, offering refreshments which he poured himself at a small stand at one side of the room before finally joining them before the fire. They sipped chilled wine from one of the islands of the Archipelago, and Soliman praised it highly. “I hope it travels well,” he told them. “This will be worth a fortune on the capital. It is as good as real Earth wines, or nearly so, and they command a price you would never believe. This is a very fortunate world, gentlemen, your wines and brandies can make you rich. And your grua — do you think the peach plant would grow elsewhere? Ah, but it would never thrive as it does here. If only Earth had not been so devastated in the Secession Wars.”

  He lowered his voice confidentially. “That is why the Navy is so stern, you know. Their academy is there, and they grow up with the results of the wars. They are determined that it will never happen again, even if they must enslave the entire galaxy to see to it. And now that it is traditional for the Emperor to send the heir apparent to New Annapolis, the whole government is infected with their dedication.” He sighed deeply.

  “Have you visited Makassar yourself, Traders?” MacKinnie asked.

  “Briefly, briefly,” Soliman replied. “A desolate place, with little of value to us. Yet I am certain you will find many things useful there,” he added quickly. “Not so desolate as all that, and of course we are accustomed to more comforts than you. Copper abounds there, but perhaps the costs of shipping will prevent you from importing it on any really large scale. There may be little for us, but we believe you will find the voyage profitable. And of course we did not venture far from the city where the Navy has its base.”

  “Has the Navy decided on the details of the voyage?” Dougal asked. “Will Your Excellencies accompany us? A naval officer, perhaps? Who will command the ship?”

  “I have business beyond Makassar, but I will go with you there,” Renaldi told them. “I am looking forward to the voyage, and Trader Soliman will guard my interests here.” Renaldi’s tone indicated that he and Soliman had tossed coins for the privilege, and Renaldi had lost, although he was attempting to act in good humor. “As Soliman and I own the ship, it will be commanded by our own merchant captain and crew. One of the Imperial Navy officers will be aboard as observer, to insure that none of their silly regulations are violated. We must caution you, Trader,” he said, turning to MacKinnie, “they are very stern about their rules. Do not attempt to violate them, or you will never see your charming planet again. The Imperial prison world is not a pleasant place.”

  “No need to speak of such depressing matters,” Soliman interrupted. “Better to think of the profits that can be earned. And, of course, this will be the first time any of your people have been off this planet since the days of the Old Empire, will it not?” His offhanded manner could not conceal his interest in the question.

  Before MacKinnie could answer, Dougal asked, “And the language of Makassar? Will Trader MacKinnie find it difficult to deal with the natives?”

  “The language is much like your own, or ours,” Soliman answered. “Degenerate forms of Old Empire, with some local words. It requires study, but there will be no great difficulties. Tell me, Trader Magnate MacKinnie, are you looking forward to going off-planet?”

  “With some anticipation,” MacKinnie answered. “It will be a new experience for me.” He emphasized the last word slightly, receiving an approving nod from Dougal. “But what are the conditions on Makassar? Are they likely to be friendly? Will we be allowed to wander about their cities, or must we remain in one place and let them come to us?”

  “The Navy has no objection to your traveling about,” Renaldi replied, “provided you take nothing more advanced than they already have on Makassar. Journeys on the planet with primitive equipment can be dangerous, you understand. The planet has no political system as even you on Samual might know it. Here, you have a few strong governments and many city-states in a complex of alliances — at least on North Continent. On Makassar, there are dozens of kingdoms, free cities, small republics, leagues, and such, none very large by your standards. The kingdoms themselves are more fiction than fact, with independent baronies scattered about them. No doubt this is the result of their lack of technology, coupled with their primitive military organizations. All of this is huddled together on the coast of the one large continent. But it all comes to an end on a great grassland plain that stretches east for over three thousand kilometers. You will find none but barbarians there. No one knows how many of them there are; they move around at will and raid the edges of the civilized lands. There are also island kingdoms of barbarians off the coasts of the civilized regions, and these stage raids on even the largest cities. You are welcome to wander the countryside, Trader MacKinnie, but do not be surprised if you are killed. The only safe place is in one of their large cities, and they are not entirely safe. The Imperial Navy maintains a fortified observation post, but no warships, so that even if you were able to signal the Navy, there would be little they could do to rescue you.

  Makassar is not altogether a healthy place.”

  “Ah, but there are never profits without danger,” Soli
man purred. “And who knows what you may find out among the kingdoms of the east? The Navy post is on the western coastline, and we know so little about the planet.”

  MacKinnie nodded. “We will be very careful if we leave the Imperial fortress. Gentlemen, what I do not understand is why Makassar is so primitive. Why did they not retain any basic technology at all?”

  “Ah,” Soliman answered, “that is something we have speculated about without final answer. From our records, it was relatively unpopulated when the Secession Wars began. The planet seems to have served mostly as a rest area for the Old Empire Navy and Civil Service … a park world, kept uninhabited and unspoiled. Little machinery. Few power installations. Then, as the wars continued, for some reasons of strategy we do not know, parts of the planet were fortified. The fortifications were destroyed, and with them, much of the only city, although the old palace seems to have survived. Then the wars boiled on past Makassar. Perhaps there were not many people left on it. Many of them would be civil servants. Few artisans, and of the native inhabitants most would have been dedicated to service professions. Pleasure-house operators. Prostitutes. What kind of civilization would you expect them to build, given the destruction of most of the machinery?” He paused thoughtfully, sipping his wine.

  “And then, too, much of the vegetation on the planet is native to Makassar. Not edible by us. Hardy stuff. A form of our wheat grows across the plains, but it is straggly and more fit for horses and cattle than men. Most of the crops of Makassar are Earth Stock; they have a very wide variety of such foodstuffs but getting an edible crop takes constant attention. How natural for some of the population to become raiders, living off the cultivators! And so the cultivators divert part of their efforts into maintaining a warrior class. The warriors become an aristocracy. The warriors must have something to do in times of peace, and they will not toil in the fields … Indeed, they can’t, because the barbarians may sweep over them at any time, and the warriors must know their business if they are to do their job. The planet has known constant warfare, between the civilized people and the barbarians, among the warriors within the civilized area, between civilized cities and baronies. At least, we think this is what happens. Certainly they are fighting all the time.”

  “There was a period much like that on old Earth,” Renaldi observed. “It would seem to have been ended by the development of scientific farming, which was a discovery of the Church. But Makassar has developed its own ideas of a church, not altogether to the satisfaction of New Rome.”

  “Ah, yes,” Soliman added. “In addition to yourselves and the Imperial Navy observers, you will find one other group on Makassar. His Holiness has sent a bishop and a small group of missionaries to win these people back to the state religion. They are not having notable success.”

  Dougal finished his wine and set the glass down. In an instant, Soliman hauled his great stomach off the couch and gathered the other glasses on a copper tray, taking them to the cabinet to fill them. As he did, Dougal observed, “I am sure that Trader MacKinnie will be careful not to fall afoul of His Reverence the Bishop. May we here on Samual expect a similar visit soon?”

  “Doubtless,” Renaldi answered. “Of course, you seem to have developed along more orthodox lines than the people of Makassar, although the Church will find the multiplication of sects distressing. Still, you will find New Rome tolerant and willing to compromise. Do you anticipate much resistance to unification of the churches?”

  “Not much,” MacKinnie answered. “We had religious wars, over a hundred standard years ago. Not much zeal left on Prince Samual’s World. The orthodox churches have been proclaiming their obedience to New Rome since the Imperial Navy landed, and the others don’t know quite what to make of it all. How much will the Empire interfere with local matters like religion anyway?”

  “Oh, hardly at all, hardly at all,” Soliman assured them. He served the wine carefully, and MacKinnie caught a stern look which Soliman passed to Renaldi. The latter quickly changed the subject, and the next half hour was passed discussing trade goods and the proposed cargo. They were interrupted by a knock at the door and, when Renaldi answered it, two Imperial Navy officers entered the room and walked stiffly over to stand in front of MacKinnie. Their manner was anything but friendly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  REGULATIONS

  The contrast between the two officers could not have been greater. One was young, tall, of slight build, his hair an indescribable brown something like damp straw. The other was much older, with lines of care etched around his expressionless eyes, his hair gray where there was hair at all. He was heavy and short, but he had in common with the younger man a look of hardness and dedication; yet, again in contrast to his junior brother in service, there was none of the air of expectancy and anticipation the boy displayed.

  “Trader MacKinnie.” The older man said it factually. “I am Captain Greenaugh of His Imperial Majesty’s Navy. I command the garrison here and Tombaugh up there in orbit. This is Midshipman Landry, who will be my observer on this stupid voyage of yours.”

  MacKinnie stood and bowed slightly to Captain Greenaugh, even less to Landry, making no move to extend his hand when the others did not.

  “Won’t you sit down, Captain?” Soliman asked softly. “Some wine, perhaps? Grua?”

  “No. Mr. Landry and I are on duty.”

  The midshipman’s face was impassive; or had there been a hint of a smile? It was hard to tell.

  “Then please be seated,” Soliman insisted.

  “I prefer to stand.” He turned his attention to MacKinnie. “As you are to be the local in charge of this expedition, sir, it is my duty to caution you that any infringement of Imperial regulations on the part of any member of this expedition will result in trial and punishment of both the crew member and you personally. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Captain,” MacKinnie said. He elaborately inspected the large ring on his left hand, then looked up. “I understand perfectly. Tell me why you are so unhappy with me, if you would, please.”

  “I am not unhappy with you, sir. It is understandable that you would wish to travel in space. I am unhappy with Mr. Soliman for browbeating me into letting you do it.”

  “Browbeating, Captain?” Soliman said in an amused tone. “Why, I merely indicated—”

  “You merely indicated the relevant passages in the Imperial regulations and reminded me of your influence. I don’t give a damn about your influence, but I can’t ignore the regulations. However, I warn you, MacKinnie, if Mr. Soliman can be sticky about regulations, so can I. You’ll get a copy of the pertinent sections before you go, but I decided to see you personally to try to talk you out of this venture.”

  “If you please, Captain,” Dougal asked, “why are you so opposed to our simple trading expedition? I thought it was Imperial policy to encourage trade among the worlds of the Empire. Your ambassador promises that Prince Samual’s World will profit highly through joining the Empire.”

  “Sir—” The captain paused and snapped his fingers.

  “Citizen Dougal, sir,” the midshipman answered. “In the service of King David.”

  “Citizen Dougal, I have all too few officers on this station. I am responsible for the protection of this world from all interference with its development and assimilation into the Empire. There’s a nest of outies not twenty parsecs away; your King David is in one hell of a hurry to unify this planet against stiff opposition; the survey team keeps borrowing my people; and thanks to this expedition I have to send a junior officer off for the Saints alone know how long. There’ll be reports to file, inspections to conduct. And for what? So Mr. Soliman here can add another mega-crown to his bank account, and you people can bring some kind of gimcrack new luxuries to absorb what little capital there is on Prince Samual’s World. I don’t like it and I don’t have to like it.”

  “Sorry you feel that way, Captain,” MacKinnie said. Inwardly he knew all too well the plight of a military man caught up in the
details of government. He would have felt sympathy for Greenaugh, but the memory of Lechfeld was too strong. The Imperials were the enemy. “But you have admitted that you understand our motives for wanting to go. I hope we can get our work accomplished without causing you any trouble.”

  “You’re damn right you will,” Greenaugh snapped. “But before you make your final decision, let me acquaint you with the regulations. Item: you will be supplied with a basic naval study of the planetary languages found in the chief city of Makassar. You will at no time teach any native your own language or Imperial speech. All negotiations will be conducted in one of the planetary languages. Is that understood?”

  MacKinnie nodded, suddenly realizing why all the Imperials he had met spoke a variant of the language of Haven. If you used a man’s own language, you weren’t likely to tell him anything he didn’t know about. He wouldn’t even have the words for most advanced concepts.

  “Item: as Imperial subjects,” Greenaugh continued, “you would ordinarily be entitled to protection from barbarians and arbitrary imprisonment. In your case we can’t extend it. The garrison on Makassar is too small and there’s no ship. If you get in trouble, you’re on your own.”

  The captain took a small notebook-sized object from his pocket, touched a stud on the side of it and glanced at its face before returning it to his scarlet tunic. MacKinnie recognized it as one of the tiny Imperial computers, supposedly equivalent to hundreds of the best mechanical calculators in use in Haven’s banks; equivalent and more. The Imperials used them for everything, as notebooks and pocket clocks, for communications and diaries.

  “Another thing, MacKinnie. Any technical innovation traced to you directly or indirectly can result in a charge of interference. If it results in any severe disruption of the development of that planet, you can get life imprisonment. Assessment of the effects of innovations and your responsibilities for them are up to the Emperor’s Lord Judges.”