A Covenant of Justice (42 page)

“I have a thought,” Finn said. “I know that I don't have the same perspective of any of you, but if I might—” He glanced around expectantly, but no one objected. The TimeBinders looked to him politely. Finn nodded and continued, “I don't think that d'Vashti acted rashly or foolishly or impetuously. I think he acted with deliberate forethought. I believe that d'Vashti wants the Gathering to proceed. He moved his ship into position not to frighten us into quitting in panic, but because he wants to challenge us to continue on in anger. For some reason—I have no idea what or why—he
needs
for us to have the Gathering. He did this to strengthen our resolve, not weaken it. And look around—it's worked.

“We thought we tricked him into recognizing the authority of this body, what if we miscalculated? What if he's tricked us into having exactly the kind of Gathering he wants?”

The TimeBinders scratched their heads thoughtfully as they considered the import of Finn Markham's suggestion. “But what does he want? What does he gain?”

“He wants power. He wants Zillabar. He wants the Gathering to provide the mechanism by which he will attain both.”

Three-Dollar spoke then. “On Thoska-Roole, we knew for many years that the Dragon Lord had no intention of breaking the back of the rebellion while we remained useful to him. We never believed that this idea came entirely from the Dragon Lord. We always suspected that d'Vashti had reasons of his own for wanting the rebellion to grow powerful. Perhaps, he wanted this Gathering all along.”

“If so,” said Harry Mertz, “then we have to ask ourselves why. We may have a much bigger problem here than we ever expected.”

In the engine room of
The Lady MacBeth
, Robin and Gito engaged in a similar conversation while Ota and Shariba-Jen looked on.

“I don't care about politics,” said Gito. “Tall people do politics. Short people work. And we have to work twice as hard just to get half the recognition. I just want a fair share. You want to know the truth? I don't care who wins, I'll go with the winner. Yeah. Don't look so surprised. The Chief Fluction engineer of
The Black Destructor
has asked for a copy of my rating. Maybe she'll offer me a job.”

“She doesn't want your brain, you idiot!” Robin said. “She wants your dick.”

“Big head, little head. I don't care. I want to work on a bigger ship. Maybe they'll serve better food. Maybe they'll appreciate me more than I see here.”

“What about your loyalty to Captain Campbell?” Robin asked, shocked at Gito's audacity.

“What about her loyalty to us?” Gito rasped back. “Whatever happened to that renegotiation of our contracts?”

“Do you think you'll get a better deal from the Vampires?”

“The Phaestor will pay me on time. I can't work for a bankrupt corporation—neither can you!”

Robin stopped, speechless. She started to reply, then stopped herself in frustration. At last, she said, “For the first time in years, I regret that I took a vow of non-violence. You make me wish I had a weapon in my hands, you nasty little pig-fucker.”

“Wait,” said Gito nastily. “I'll get you a needle-beam. You can lower yourself to my level.”

“I have never seen such a display of disloyalty, dishonor, and terminal stupidity in anyone! Stupid me. I expected better from you! I thought that this crew stood together as friends—as a family! I accepted you without question. We all did—even though we knew your history, your family, your personal disgrace. And we thought you stood with us the same way. Now we know the truth. Anyone with enough money can buy your loyalty.”

Gito took a step back, startled. “Wait a minute—” he flustered. “Captain Campbell said it, and you said it, and Ota said it—everybody said it—that the corporation has gone bust. We've all started looking for new postings. Don't deny it. You've asked around. Ota has. So has Jen. So why should I take the brunt of your anger? I have to take care of myself too—”

“But . . . not with the very people who've brought down Captain Campbell. Don't you understand
anything
, you cretin?” Robin stormed out of the engine room, followed by Ota and Jen, leaving Gito behind, shaking his head and muttering curses about women, androids, and bioforms who didn't know their aft orifices from a black hole.

Robin stamped through the keel of the ship, coming up onto the operations deck of the bridge, where she stopped in surprise. Sawyer and Finn sat over the tactical display huddled in private conference.

“Who gave you access to the bridge of the vessel?” she demanded.

“Captain Campbell. We need to confer with EDNA.”

“About what?” Robin looked at them suspiciously. She still felt angry at Gito, she had no intention of letting anyone else win a confrontation.

“About ways to fight back.”

“You?” queried Robin.

“Sawyer and Finn Markham, experts in mayhem,” Sawyer explained.

“It says so on our business cards,” Finn added.

“At your service,” Sawyer bowed.

“Well . . . ?” Robin said grudgingly.

“Help us,” Sawyer said. He gestured upward, “Why can't we do something about
that
?” He indicated the unseen vessel that still dominated the sky over the Forum.

“Sure,” said Robin. “If you could get aboard her, you could do any number of things to take her apart. Hell, a virus program to reverse her passive levitators just before transit would turn the damn thing inside out—”

“Too obvious,” remarked EDNA,
The Lady MacBeth
's intelligence engine. She put a display up, showing the Armageddon-class warship. “If I had the responsibility of taking that ship into
otherspace
, I would run tell-me-three-times checks of all gravitational generators and prisms, every thirty seconds.”

“But if we could do it—?” Finn asked.

EDNA caused the image of
The Black Destructor
to shred itself. “Unfortunately, you'd have to wait until the vessel left the Forum. It won't help you any in the present situation.”

“Hm,” said Sawyer. “I wonder if we could get her to self-destruct somehow. EDNA, has an intelligence engine ever gone suicidal?”

“Sorry. Intelligence engines hardly ever demonstrate unstable behavior.”

“Hardly ever?” asked Finn.

“It depends on the ancillary motivations. I would assume the I.E. on
The Black Destructor
does not have many ancillary features. The Phaestor don't really like intelligence engines with too much independence.”

“Hm,” said Sawyer. “Maybe we could give it some.”

“Not a good idea,” suggested EDNA. “The more independence an engine has, the less likely it will commit suicide.”

“If we could get an antimatter kernel aboard—or even nearby. Hell, if we could just launch one in its general direction. . . .”

EDNA caused the display to show the results of such an event.
The Black Destructor
disappeared in a flash of light—but so did the Forum,
The Lady MacBeth
, and several hundred other vessels.

Sawyer sank back in his chair. “All right, I've run out of ideas,” he announced.

Finn looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

Sawyer said, “Well . . . no. But this frustrates me. We can't get aboard the ship, we can't get near it, and anything we could do to it will hurt us as much as them. We need something elegant.”

“Sorry,” said Captain Campbell stepping onto the command bridge of her vessel. “But we don't have any more pfingle eggs.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Finn. “Vampires don't like pfingle eggs enough—at least not enough to get stupid about them.”

Neena Linn-Campbell glanced curiously at Sawyer. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I thought you two didn't get involved in politics. Why now?”

Sawyer shrugged. He scratched his ear. He frowned. “Politics?” He shook his head. “Nah. We decided to take this one personally.”

Neena Linn-Campbell smiled. “Why don't I believe you?”

Finn smiled gently and admitted it. “All right, maybe we do care a little. Maybe all this politicking stinks just like all the other politicking in the Cluster. But maybe also, this time it might actually make a difference for the better. If we really do believe in justice, and if we have even half a chance here, we have to try, don't we?”

“Besides,” said Sawyer. “We don't think like fish.”

“Right,” said Captain Campbell, skeptically. “And maybe you heard that the Dragons don't care what they eat, fish or foul-smelling. . . .”

Sawyer grinned. “I guess that might have something to do with it too.” He turned back to the display. “EDNA, by any chance do you have a schematic of the keel of
The Black Destructor
? I have another idea.”

“It won't work—” said EDNA. But she put up the display anyway.

“What about a warhead?” said Robin.

Nevertheless, not all of the TimeBinders felt as strongly as Three-Dollar and Nyota. Not all of them reacted as Grolder. Several still expressed concern about the wisdom of continuing with the Gathering in the face of the Regency's obvious disapproval. These included Fariah of B'rik'yno, Lord K'aenar of Ascuto, and Calvin of Canby.

Even as the first hour of the Gathering approached, the informal politicking continued. Many of the attendees came from worlds where the Phaestor aristocracy had not yet exercised their authority as dramatically as they had on Thoska-Roole and Burihatin. Some of the TimeBinders remained skeptical of the stories and rumors they had heard of atrocities and violations of the Regency Charter. Nevertheless, across the disk of the Forum, various groups still came together to consider their next actions. With the full weight of d'Vashti's Armageddon-class warship hanging over them all, many of the arguments against the Phaestor had taken on a new credential.

At a gathering place at the outer edge of the Forum, Lee-1169 spoke patiently with Fariah, Lord K'aenar, and Calvin, three of the most conservative TimeBinders. Fariah had glowing red skin and long black hair that reached to her waist; she wore an elegant gown of pale silk. Lord K'aenar had olive skin and dark black eyes; he wore an ornate ceremonial kimono, so intricate that it defied easy description. Calvin wore only a simple harness for his weaponry; he had orange hair that covered his entire body; and Lee remained uncertain of his genetic heritage. The three TimeBinders listened patiently as Lee presented his case to them. They stood at the top of a rise of wide marble steps near the edge of the disk. Here, where the atmosphere thinned considerably, they had a remarkable view of the stars.

Around them, the other surviving members of the Lee clone-family stood, occasionally interjecting their own thoughts and comments, but mostly allowing their more world-wise brother to say it for all of them.

“I can't speak for the rest of the Cluster,” said Lee, “but I can tell you what I've seen in my lifetime. Ask me about the Kilpatrick Massacre,
¹¹
and I'll tell you of one of the great turning points in the history of the Regency. The Dragon Guards have taken it as a sacred oath to kill judges and councilors and clone-families ever since. The Regency has become a partner in the commission of these illegal acts.”

As he detailed the events of the Kilpatrick Massacre, a small crowd began to gather around, their faces rapt with attention. His passion and his fury made Lee a compelling speaker. The force of his personality infused his whole presentation and the crowd reacted with gasps and anger as he spoke of the Dragons' rage, their killing frenzies—the way they slashed fathers to death in front of their sons, the way they tormented and looted and laughed at the pain of others. Lee spoke calmly at times, furiously at others, but overall he evoked an emotional response from his listeners that no mere dry recanting of facts could ever produce.

At the back of the crowd, two small humans watched with sour expressions, Gito and Juda-Linda. Neither had any great concern for the problems of other species; partly this grew out of their own sense of alienation from the taller elements of their species, partly it came from their own personal resentment at the patronizing way that others had often treated them, and partly it came from the built-in bias of their culture. The people of Tharn didn't complain—and certainly never in public—they got even. Gito frowned uncomfortably. Robin's words still haunted him. He knew that he had failed to understand something. It bothered him. Now, Lee's words disturbed him even more. Lee understood it. But listening to him, Gito still couldn't hear what he
really
meant. It just sounded like more weeping and wailing at the unfairness of the universe.

Something rumbled behind them. Automatically, Gito stepped out of the way, pulling Juda-Linda with him. Several Dragons had appeared around the edges of the gathering. Some of them grumbled uncomfortably—deep sounds of warning and danger. The listeners in the crowd began turning their heads to stare at the Dragons. Standing to one side, the other Lees began to show their concern as well. They whispered among themselves, wondering if they should withdraw or stand by their brother.

Finally, even Lee-1169 acknowledged the presence of the warrior-lizards. “Ho,” he said. “Here I stand. A Lee that you missed.”

One of the Dragons, the biggest, spoke in a voice like doom. He wore black armor, trimmed with silver. “Anywhere else in the Cluster, we would punish your treason with instant death. Here, we have to let you speak with impugnity.”

Around them, the crowd had grown enormously. Word of this confrontation had spread across the disk, and people of all races and species moved quickly toward the scene—like bystanders rushing toward the scene of an accident, hoping to see the bloodshed.

Lee remained unfazed. “I know that you want to kill me. And hear this. In my heart still burns a desire for revenge as well. I want to hurt those who hurt me. As do you. As do we all.