Orion Shall Rise (24 page)

‘Let me
give
you a final word before we launch our enterprise. We have practiced over and over what each squad
is
to do, which key point it is to seize and hold, how we will maintain communication
among ourselves, what actions are appropriate to meet which contingencies. Your leaders are familiar with Ileduciel; never fear that you are getting lost in a maze. There are no firearms, or virtually none, anywhere in the aerostat – scarcely a single weapon more dangerous than a kitchen knife. Your entry will be a total surprise.’

At this moment, I trust,
passed across Jovain’s mind,
the pilot is on the radio, ‘explaining’ why Bergdorff Pir Verine sees fit to arrive in such style – to demonstrate that airships serving as tankers, protected by certain new devices, make a limited number of high-powered warplanes feasible – a development that is bound to affect policy, and therefore should be taken into account when electing the new Captain.
… In point of fact, Bergdorff Pir Verine lay low in an Alpine hunting lodge. He had proved willing to conspire, but had been frank to Jovain about his intention – if the coup failed – of declaring shock and grief that his trusted colleague could so misuse vehicles lent him for what had been alleged to be patriotic research and development.

‘On that very account, men, it is crucial that you restrain yourselves. We dare not inflict serious damage on Ileduciel, and our goal must be to inflict none whatsoever. Almost as urgently, we dare harm no person except in case of direst necessity. We shall need the skills of some from the beginning; we shall need the acquiescence of the rest shortly after, and eventually the support of most. Remember, besides vital technical personnel, these are the
Clan Seniors,
their spouses, their immediate assistants. They are more than human beings who have a right not to be wantonly hurt or insulted. They are leaders, symbols, embodiments. Ileduciel
is
mighty, but not almighty. At best, our troops on the ground will have taken only a few areas. They cannot hold those, let alone spread control over the countryside, if our behaviour here has outraged the entire Domain.’

Small and thinly spread would the garrisons be indeed. You couldn’t introduce many newcomers into a town, the neighborhood of an airfield or important factory, a defensible hill, without attracting undue notice, even over a period of months and under many different ingenious pretexts. Still more difficult were the smuggling and concealment of their weapons. The operation would probably have been impossible in most parts of the world; but guarded by Skyholm, the Domain had rested in peace for so
long that it took its own security effortlessly for granted, like air and sunshine.

They are ready, though. Or else I shall soon be dead.
That knowledge was not daunting to Jovain; in him, it tingled and trumpeted.

When the signal flashed from on high, that Skyholm was his, the men on the ground would don their uniforms, take up their arms, and occupy their ordained places. If all went well, there would be little fighting, or none. People would be too stunned, too disorganized; and they would be under bombardment of messages from the aerostat, that the soldiers were on hand by right, strictly as protectors during a period of emergency. Castlekeepers, commanders of military bases, skippers in the navy, might not believe it, and did possess forces. But they would hesitate to risk destroying town halls, Consvatoires, depots, transportation and communication centers, whatever facilities the Jovainists held – not to mention hazarding the annihilation that Skyholm itself could thunder down on them.

And while everybody mills about and temporizes, the Council of Seniors meets aloft to choose the new Captain.

For this, the Seniors must be alive.

‘Never be frightened. Always remember that the strength is yours. Fire no shot except in extreme danger, and then only on orders from your ranking officer. Use lesser degrees of force if you must, but only if you must and only to the degree absolutely necessary for you to carry out your assignment. We are not invaders, we are liberators.’

Jovain raised a hand, palm toward them. ‘You know this, brave friends. I spoke to remind myself as much as to remind you. Now let us go forward to victory!’

A muffled cheer lifted. Teeth, eyeballs, and drawn steel gleamed. He sat down and secured his safety harness. The dirigible had begun to pitch and yaw a little in the currents around the great globe. It moved carefully in toward the dock.

Contact shivered through its mass. Grapnels went out to engage mooring rings. Engines whirred to silence. Men in altitude suits, breathing from tanks on their backs, moved across the flange to secure the vessel properly, with spring cables. Thereafter they unfolded the entry tube, as they dragged it from its bay to the gondola door it was to osculate. When the seal was firm, pumps brought air pressure within the tube to sea-level value. Their noise
died away. The chief of the docking crew examined a gauge, closed a valve, and signaled that doors might be opened.

Ashcroft Lorens Mayn took the lead. Jovain had wanted to, but his chief associates persuaded him that would be lunacy. The whole undertaking turned on him, when no other Talence whatsoever had joined it. Amply bad was having him participate in the assault at all; but that concession must needs be made to archaic emotions. Faylis’ handsome blond brother, recruited by her, had the presence, prestige, and military experience to be the spearhead.

A dozen picked men filed after him. They bore no guns on their shoulders, and would not take out their pistols and knives until they had deployed in the reception room and reached every egress. Surprise was essential to the capture of that bridgehead.

Sudden shouts and clattering footballs told how swiftly they worked. In a minute or two, the whistle shrilled that hung from Lorens’ neck:
Success – thus far!

Jovain heard a yell burst from his own throat. He could enter his kingdom. He sprang forward and sped through the tube. Its colorless lining, lit from the doorways at either side, enclosed him in white dusk and seemed to stretch on and on forever. Boots thudded and breath sounded rough at his back, but he scarcely heard amidst his heart-beat. Sweat prickled across his skin, twice chill against the fire beneath.

He reached the chamber beyond, ran on to its center where Lorens stood, and stopped to stare around. Excitement sank to an inner thrumming. Never had his mind and senses been more keen.

The space was large and echoful in the light of fluorescent tubes. Ancient heroes looked out of time-faded murals, down upon benches, counters, baggage-inspection area, and people. More than the usual functionaries stood aghast, in huddled little groups, around the floor, under the gaze of armed and uniformed men who sealed off the corridors radiating hence. Fifty or sixty others had noticed the airship arriving and come to see what it brought. Jovain recognized a couple of gray heads, Seniors.

‘Reassure them, Colonel,’ he directed. The rest of his troop were debarking, on the double and a bayoneted rifle in the grasp of every fourth man. As many among them bore cocked crossbows, the rest long knives, and at each belt hung a truncheon.

‘Aye, sir. The megaphone, Sergeant.’ Lorens took the instrument, put it to his lips, and boomed: ‘Attention, attention! Please
be calm, sirs and ladies. You have nothing to fear. We are not pirates, nor are we foreigners; we are of the Domain just like you. We have come in response to an emergency, for the protection of Skyholm and of all persons within. Stay calm, do not interfere with us as we carry out our essential tasks, and all will be well, everybody will be safe.’

A gaudily clad young man stepped from a knot of bystanders. They had screened him from view, for although muscular, he was shorter than many males of the Aerogens. Pysan blood showed, too, in broad countenance and tousled brown hair. ‘Lorens!’ he cried. ‘I couldn’t understand – Have
you
brought that snake Jovain here?’

Faylis’ brother let the megaphone sink. Dismay blurred the resolution on his own features. ‘Iern, be careful,’ he called back.

Fear and triumph flared together in Jovain. He had not expected to meet his enemy this fast. Nor this publicly. The potential for riot, for resistance blazing up everywhere in the labyrinth that was the aerostat – He turned to the officer on his left and pointed. ‘Lieutenant, take your squad and arrest that man,’ he rapped.

‘Sir!’ The group trotted across the room.

‘Is that wise, sir?’ Lorens asked unevenly.

‘It is my command,’ Jovain answered.

‘Yes, sir. But he’s impulsive. Allow me.’ Lorens raised the megaphone anew. ‘Iern, don’t make trouble. Go along quietly. You’ll be all right, I promise. I’ll explain this business as soon as I possibly can.’

Iern had been sidling back from the men who advanced upon him. ‘Jovain’s business?’ he howled.

In a blur of motion, he spun about and bounded toward the nearest exit. ‘Stop him!’ Jovain screamed and himself dashed in pursuit. The guards in the doorway tightened their line, pistoleer between two Eskual steel-wielders. Shrieks resounded through the chamber, folk scrambled to get clear, some flung themselves prone.

Full tilt, Iern left the deck and soared. A foot scythed before him, into the pistoleer’s belly right under the breastbone. That soldier went down like a sack of meal. His mates sought to close in. Iern swept the blade of a hand at one, against the throat. The knifeman lurched back, fell, and lay choking and writhing. Iern dodged the third and pelted on through the corridor.

‘After him!’ Jovain drew his sidearm. ‘Shoot him!’ He fired. The crack was astoundingly loud. The bullet whistled through
emptiness and clanged off a corner which Iern had just rounded.

Lorens overtook his chieftain and grappled. ‘Sir, sir,’ he pleaded, ‘this isn’t doctrine, it could wreck our whole operation, let him go, he can’t escape, we’ll get him later –’

Jovain yielded. For a moment he shuddered, breathed deep, fought back a dizziness that had taken hold of him. ‘You’re right,’ he said. His voice came hoarse out of a tightened gullet. ‘Carry on.’

By evening, Skyholm was his.

Occupation of its heart and its nerve centers had taken scarcely more than an hour, with nothing except minor scuffles before unarmed crewfolk gave up. A pilot tried to flee in a small jet, but heeded a warning that the warcraft would shoot him down if he did not return. No flyer ventured upward from the ground, and presently the fighter stood parked on a dock, ready for instant battle but probably not to be needed.

Afterward, though, time stumbled very slowly along. Jovain’s men must organize, set watches, come to agreements with those technicians who were indispensable, arrange quarters and mess. Patrols must make certain that order prevailed. Spokesmen must reassure whomever they could that nobody was in peril of life or property, that a full and satisfactory explanation of events would be forthcoming, that meanwhile everyone should cooperate. It took long before the Seniors were assembled where Jovain could address them, fend off a gale of questions and protests, promise them that their conclave would take place tomorrow as planned and that he would open it with revelations that ought to prove the tightness of his actions. Before and after that meeting, he was closeted not only with his officers but with those of Skyholm – including a number of the Seniors – who had known he was coming and had done what they were able to prepare the way for him.…

Vaguely aware that he was ravenous, he swallowed a sandwich and coffee that an orderly fetched and went back to studying the information that his investigators brought, to arguing, persuading, threatening, issuing directives, deciding, deciding, deciding.…

The sun sank, the moon rose, a measure of calm seeped in from the night. Lights began to go out, men and women to sleep, however uneasily. Jovain shoved his work aside, told the sentries where he would be should a crisis arise, and left the office he had appropriated. At last he could seek his love.

The corridors were dim. They resounded hollowly to his footsteps. A few times he encountered a man of his, who saluted but did not speak – a feeling more lonely than he had expected. After a while this tenanted section came to an end. Passageways to the next were simple catwalks among tensegrity members, whose spiderwebs lost themselves in distance and dimness. The outer skin glimmered milky with moonlight, the inner was full of murk; Jovain walked as if between a blank sky and a barren earth. The aerostat was keeping station against a strong night wind, and the sound of the jets surrounded him here, low but like the noise of a waterfall pouring into an abyss without bottom.

Somewhere skulked Iern. Over and over, Jovain’s hand sought comfort from a knurled pistol grip.
Two serious casualties in all; and he put both those men in sickbay. The one with the damaged larynx may not live. I didn’t
know our Golden Boy was that savage. What shall we do when we’ve tracked him down?

Jovain realized drearily that he had never quite faced this problem. He had thought in terms of an accomplished fact, against which his rival would be no more than a moth fluttering at a pane. If Iern bade fair to make a real nuisance of himself – why, then, detention for him as a threat to the commonweal, and afterward, presumably, release under surveillance.
I
don’t
know if that will serve.

His behaviour today Justifies arresting him, and the order is out. If he should happen to be killed, resisting arrest with the homicidal violence he has already demonstrated – it might forestall a good many difficulties. Or he could die later, in an attempt at escape
.

Jovain drew a quick breath.
What am I thinking of? I am no murderer!

That day in our sky wings – And Faylis need never know. I’m sure she would never inquire too closely.

Stop that. Think about her. You are going to her.
Jovain hastened his gait.

The next filled section was residential: hers. Two years’ exile or no, the route to the Ferlay apartment was burned into him. He smote the door. It opened. She was there. A blue robe clung to her slenderness. He took a step forward. She nearly fell against his breast. They stood hugged together and kissing for minutes before they remembered to shut the door.