In the Hall of the Martian King (16 page)

“Absolutely. For as long as it makes sense. Once your employer has decided to kill you or throw your life away, well, that’s
when you follow your sword over the wall and down the street to find another employer—and be just as loyal to that one. A
smart aristo won’t throw a good merc or op away—and a smart merc or op won’t make himself ripe for throwing away.”

“Even though I do feel sorry for those poor people that Jak did that to—especially for them being arrested afterward—I have
to say, it’s kind of hilarious,” Kawib said. “I still can’t quite see what you were thinking. That has to be the stupidest
stunt I’ve ever heard of.”

“People always laugh at record-setters,” Jak said.

L
ater, it seemed like a good idea to all walk back to the pavilions together, about five kilometers in the mild night along
the Phobos-lit road. Kawib and Dujuv got involved in some obscure race that probably wouldn’t have made sense to them, either,
sober. After they had bounded around the bend in the road ahead, Jak said to Sib, “You used to seem to really like Dujuv,
and be very pleased that he was my best tove. Now I think you really resent him. What is it that precesses you about him?”

“Nothing except that he’s gone from being a fine young fighter and op—Nakasen’s hairy bag, he still is—to being the sort of
high-minded young turd who is going to make everyone else miserable forever. Just another stupid idealist out to ruin everything
that is good and right and beautiful about the world, just because it isn’t perfect for everyone. Would you want a world where
there was no one as beautiful and terrible as Princess Shyf? Would you want a world where there was never the kind of magnificent
pagentry we see every day here at the palace? Would you want a world where there were no high, wild adventures to be had against
all odds, because there was never a desperate aristo to give you a glory-or-death mission? Because that’s the kind of world
that a young high-minded cretin thinks he wants. The kind of world that the socialists and the republicans, and the free-marketers
and the democrats, put together back in the middle of the Red Millennium, which took centuries to undo. Nakasen and every
Principle be praised that there was still enough red blood and high courage in the human race so that after we got into space,
there were enough pirates, filibusteros, freebooters, and adventurers to create the new aristo class.

“A thousand years ago, if things had gone the way that your friend Dujuv and his pink-and-red pizos would have preferred,
everybody would have been living in their comfy little cubes thinking comfy little thoughts, and there would have been no
Ralph Smith, nobody even faintly like him, to win the war against the Rubahy. And why
should
the kings and the parades and the adventures have to go away, or fade to shadows of their former selves? So that ugly little
children on Mercury, tenth-generation social scum, can have orthodontia? I’ve heard your silly tove getting emotional about
how tough the little kids have it there. Well of course they do. Look where they live. Look who their ancestors were—prison
sweepings, masen? Look who Princess Shyf’s ancestor was—a magnificent brilliant beast of a man—and look where she is. Everything
is as it should be.”

“Uncle Sib, you’re practically shouting. Are you all right?” His uncle turned back to him and said, “Yeah, old pizo, I’m all
right. Just getting old on you, is all. I’m exhibiting some of the diseases of the old—like thinking that if young people
aren’t immediately, vociferously agreeing with me, I can fix the situation by repeating myself and shouting.”

“By that standard of evidence, you’ve been old as long as I can remember.”

“Why you insolent cub—” Sib aimed a mock kick. Jak ducked and ran, his uncle pursuing. “Impudent puppy!”

“Silly old man!” Jak said over his shoulder, slacking his pace so Sib could keep up with him. They covered the better part
of a kilometer before they slowed down, laughing because running in low gravity is fun. As they stood, bent over, gasping,
feeling alcohol, CO
₂
, and oxygen levels fight it out in their bloodstreams, Sib said, “Jak, I am serious. The beliefs and ideas that Dujuv is
listening to are putting him on a road that doesn’t lead to a successful career for a commoner with ambitions—like you, or
like him.”

“Sib, I don’t willingly lose a tove,” Jak said. “Too many past experiences taught me not to do that.”

“Then don’t lose him. But don’t join him, either. If you turn aside from the paths of glory, you don’t avoid the grave; you
just waste yourself on a lesser path. If you follow the tepid pink flag, and throw away all your training and your family
destiny, it will make me sick—and break my heart.”

“I’ll remember that, Uncle Sib.”

“Thanks.” The older man stood up and looked around at the quiet desert landscape between Magnificiti and the palace, taking
in the long shadows from now-low Phobos and the spires and pinnacles at either end of the road. “If you remember me, and what
I taught you, then I think maybe my life was not thrown away.” Then he laughed and slapped his thigh. “Weehu, a man gets morbid
when he crosses into his third century. Come on, puppy, we’ve had a good walk, and that was a lot of wine back at the tavern.
I need to mark my territory behind that boulder.”

“Let’s make it a social occasion,” Jak said, recognizing the peace overture and happy just to be with his good old uncle,
who had often been wrong, but always sought what was best for Jak and the family. “Praise Nakasen for a warm night and a dark
shadow where we need it.”

Having nothing to do, Jak slept most of the next day. He had just finished a long workout and a longer bath, and was contemplating
early bed, when his purse said, “Sorry, urgent call from Clarbo Waynong.”

Jak groaned and said, “All right, put him on.”

You really had to give Waynong credit for perfect grooming, because there wasn’t much else that you could give him credit
for.

“Hello, Jak, listen, I’ve been talking to some of the old pizos up in Hive Intel and they’ve decided—well, we’ve decided—well,
I said it and they didn’t say anything I understood in reply—well, anyway, we decided.”

“Decided what?” Jak hated himself for asking.

“Oh, that. Yes. We decided that all this has gone on more than long enough. Cyxy is a charming old tove, and Princess Shyf
is very beautiful, and the golf here has been flawless, but I do have a career to get on with, and this is simply taking too
long, masen? So the time has come to take more direct action. That was exactly the words I used with the station chief from
Deimos and I think that’s what he didn’t disagree with, anyway, so it’s time for more direct action. You know what I mean
by more direct action?”

“Something you should not discuss over a communications link in the middle of a foreign capital?”

“It’s funny, you know, several people have said that to me, masen? Anyway, see you at the meeting.”

“What meeting?”

“Oh, that was what I called about. I reserved a room in the pavilion for it. Downstairs.”

“Is it a highly secure matter?”

“Well, yes, I suppose it is.” Clarbo had apparently not thought about the question till then, but now he looked excited to
be involved with something highly secure. “Um, actually—well, toktru,” he said, his voice now firmly commanding, “it’s a top
secret matter.”

“Then let’s have your purse download a set of security routines from mine, and have it clear the room where you’re holding
the meeting. I have some really good software you should use for that.”

“Why, thank you. Yes. Of course. Purse, did you hear that?”

Jak heard Waynong’s purse say that it had, and that it was already doing the downloads.

“That was awfully nice of you, Jak.”

“Part of my job. What time is the meeting?”

“Oh, in about forty minutes. If it’s not too much trouble, I suppose. Or I guess one shouldn’t say that about an important
meeting. It was awfully nice of you to provide some help, Jak. I do find a lot of this difficult because it is awfully complicated
and there’s so much to remember, masen? And it is nice to have the help. If you think of things, I wouldn’t mind getting a
little discreet advice now and then.”

“If I think of things,” Jak agreed. “All right, then. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

When they had all gathered in the meeting room, Clarbo began by saying, “I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve called you all
here.”

“Especially since Jak is the commanding officer,” Pikia said.

“Er, um, yes, but everyone knows that … well, I suppose everyone doesn’t know it because this is a secret mission … or do
you all know it?”

“I’m finding it hard to think of a question I could ask,” Dujuv said.

“Well, exactly, so let’s proceed. Now, since it’s clear that negotiations have broken down—”

“It is?” Sib asked.

“Um, I was supposed to say that.” Waynong looked at the palm of his left hand and asked his purse, “What does it say in that
little speech?” After reading for a moment, he said, “Yes, I was right. It
is
clear that negotiations have broken down. Anything else I should check?”

Sib appeared to be trying to push his eyes up onto his forehead. He gestured for Waynong to go on.

“Now, therefore, we’re going to attempt to recover that lifelog for the Hive by physical means. Uh, that means we’re going
to try to steal it—”

The door opened and Princess Shyf walked in, Kawib at her heels. The door constricted and Shyf said, “Sorry we’re late. What’s
the plan for stealing the lifelog?”

“Er,” Jak said, “security has been compromised on this operation and so we’d better call it off until we reestablish full
security.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Clarbo assured him. “I just happened to be chatting with the Princess here, and she mentioned
she hasn’t had a real adventure in quite a long while, so I offered her the chance to come along on this one, and she jumped
at it. And I’m sure Kawib is here because she brought him. That would be why they came in together.”

“Your deductive abilities seem to be as sharp as ever,” Shadow said.

Jak felt a tingle in his left hand. He glanced down at the palm display and saw a flashing red dot—urgent, highest priority,
something was up. He put his left hand over his ear and pressed the code with his thumb.

A voice quietly said, “This is Mejitarian, Hive Intel, Jinnaka. You seem to have a problem here. Let me clarify the situation.
Your orders to bring back the lifelog ASAP and to bring in a personal success for Clarbo Waynong supersede all others. This
includes making sure it’s a real personal victory, so just doing it and giving him the credit is not an option.

“Therefore whatever silly plan Waynong may have, no matter how foolish—make it work.” The signal cut off.

Jak needed a great idea, right now, and all he had was a fair-to-middling one. He stood up and said, “That was a message from
a high level of the home government, and I’m not allowed to say more than that. Security is pretty badly compromised on this
operation, so they insist that we go right now, before word can get around any more. Clarbo, I’m sure you had a very complex
plan waiting to go—”

“It’s something I put together with some devices that Hive Intel had available—had them all shipped in today, you know, on
my personal account since headquarters—”

“And those came through regular delivery?” Dujuv asked. “Not through any secure channel?”

“It seemed important to get the things here quickly, and going through the secure channel takes much longer—”

“So Red Amber Magenta Green postal inspectors have almost certainly seen what’s in the box,” Jak said.

“Oh, of course, they opened it—there’s a note right where they resealed the box.”

Jak glanced down at Dujuv’s left hand and saw his oldest, best tove send two quick signals: first,
I’ll back you,
and second,
I have no hope.

Jak looked down for a moment, looked up, and said, “Well, then, we have an operation that has already leaked so badly that
agents of a foreign power know all about it and came to the meeting, and sometime this afternoon local security discovered
that one of our party was importing spy gear, burglary tools, maybe weapons.”

“Well, of course, it seemed like you’d need those,” Waynong said, crossly, clearly eager to get on with explaining his plan.

“So at any moment our party can expect a rupture of diplomatic relations, and just possibly our arrest on espionage, sedition,
conspiracy—well, quite a list. We could drop everything and run for it—”

“—but I just bought all this equipment!”

“—or we can follow our most recent orders, try for the lifelog right away, and hope Red Amber Magenta Green is still specking
things out. I’d rather not just run back home with our tails between our legs. And I’m assuming our Greenworld friends feel
the same way?”

“Absolutely,” Shyf said. “We came to the meeting and didn’t tell Witerio or Cyx about it—we’re up to our necks in it too.
Let’s get going.”

“All right,” Jak said. “Clarbo, what’s your plan? The short version of course—”

“Oh, of course. Time is of the essence, masen? I always wanted to do something where time was of the essence, and get to say
that.” The handsome young man opened the shipping container and began pulling out boxes. “I tried to keep it very simple so
I restricted myself to just three pieces of hardware, two because they looked very useful and one because I thought, that’s
so interesting, I just have to include
that!
”

Jak’s palm tingled, and he looked down; his purse was signaling him to hold it to his ear. When he did, Mejitarian’s voice
said, “Yes, we are aware of the quality of Mister Waynong’s planning. All the other considerations still apply. Make it work.
How is up to you.” A harsh little click, and silence.

“The, um, high level source has just confirmed that they want us to proceed,” Jak told everyone. “Well, let’s see what you
have for us, Clarbo. Try to keep it brief because we’ll need to start soon.”