Orion Shall Rise (7 page)

3

The armadas clashed off the mouth of the mighty Columma River, on a day when half a gale drove icy rain mingled with sleet out of the west. Currents lent trickiness to the enormous waves; eastward, reefs and shoals lurked beneath. It was as if nature herself fought in defense of this her country.

If so, she fought in vain.

There were skilled sailors among the Union crews, but virtually every Maurai was a child of the great waters, with a dolphinlike sense for them and for the winds that caressed or stirred or lashed them. The Union ships were well built, but most of them on lines that were antique before the old civilization destroyed itself, and
they were driven by clumsy rigs or clumsier coal-fired engines, with a very few synfuel diesels. The Maurai ships were aerodynamic as much as they were hydrodynamic, as maneuverable as shark or albatross; those with auxiliary power ran electric motors smoothly off fuel cells. Neither side had many aircraft, but the primitive Union machines were weatherbound, while the Maurai pilots could fly. Rain did not blind radar, sonar, heat detectors, and other such instruments; those of the Maurai were incomparably superior.

As for weapons, the Union guns used explosive powder of mineral origin. Scarcity restricted the supply. The Maurai had been accumulating ammunition from sources more diffuse but unlimited. Their violent combustibles were of largely biological origin, from pelagic farms or bacterial cultures. What metals they used had principally come, by patient electrochemistry, from the sea. Oxygen and hydrogen were similarly borrowed; solar cells had maintained their cryogenic state on the long voyage hither.

Rockets blazed, torpedoes churned, bombs whistled downward, and each of them pursued a precise target. Manmade lightning racked the storm. Union ironclads wallowed amidst their dying companions and shot wildly back. Then the biggest invader missiles arrived, bearing cargoes of liquid gases that reacted upon impact. Volcanoes awoke. The armored ships broke apart. Water fountained upward, fell back, rushed about in its torment to fling hulls, wreckage, survivors crashingly together.

The battle was done in less than two hours. Afterward the wind died away, as if awed into silence, and the rain fell softly, as if weeping for men dead and treasure lost, hope lost. The Maurai did not exult, they went about searching for whom they might rescue, and horror dwelt behind no few of their faces.

They had taken some damage themselves, of course. For example, a shellburst put
Barracuda
out of action until she could be repaired and killed a number of persons aboard her. They included Launy Birken.

The war writhed on for two more years, because it had become a land war. And the land was gigantic. From the Klamath Mountains of Calforni it reached up the seaboard to embrace all of Laska. In its northern parts, its eastward parapets were the Rockies; farther south they were the Cascades, the country narrowing thus because Norrmen cared little for treeless dry plains. Theirs was a realm of uplands, deep valleys, rushing streams, intricate straits and
fjords – of woods and swamps, never distant from the richest farm or the lustiest coastal city – of rain, fog, snow, shy sunshine, but sometimes unutterably clear winter nights where stars glittered and auroras flared – of strongholds, hiding places, secret trails, ambushes.

And its folk, men, women, children, were warriors. Terai came to believe that natural selection had worked upon them. Their ancestors had suffered immensely more in the Downfall than his, and meanwhile the Mong poured across from Sberya, over a channel that for years lay frozen for months on end because nuclear detonations had filled the upper air with dust. Through the Yukon plateau the newcomers punched, over the heights beyond and down the tundras and prairies, irresistible – save by the forebears of the Norrmen. Those rolled the tide back in blood from their mountains; they regained Laska, cutting off the influx out of Asia; during centuries of warfare they held off the aliens, wore them down, built their own strength, wrested back what eastern tracts they desired, until at last quietness fell and peace rather than strife became the norm along their borders.

Their descendants were not surrenderers either. They were not insane; when beaten beyond doubt, they yielded, sullenly. The Maurai captured their cities and production centers without inordinate killing. However, that did not end the contest. It did no good to take Seattle, Portanjels, Vittohrya, and send a detachment of marines to occupy the fisher hamlet on Sanwan Island where the Grand Council of the Union met (‘off by themselves to keep ’em from doing too much mischief,’ Launy had once explained). The powers of the central government were so limited that it scarcely qualified as one. More authority resided in the Territorial capitals, but was nonetheless scant. The bone and brain of this society were its Lodges, and they were everywhere. A local Lodgemaster could field a regiment overnight, and disperse it to anonymity when its mission was completed.

With hellish slowness, the Maurai found how to make their enemies lay down arms. They had neither the manpower nor the will to overrun the country, and the thought of devastating it –
Earth –
never occurred to them, except perhaps in nightmares. But they could choke off supplies of war matériel at the source. Meanwhile they could offer relief, medicine, unstinted help in reconstruction, technological improvements, trade, scholarships at their universities for the gifted young.

In this endeavor, High Commissioner Ruori Haakonu became a hero more useful than any combatant. His intelligence, charm, unfeigned warmth, and kindliness gave a glow to his quite real achievements. His masculine beauty did no harm. At the same time, he tolerated no nonsense and was uncannily well informed. (His father, Aruturu, was chief of the intelligence division, Terai Lohannaso’s ultimate commander.)

Thus, piecemeal, the Lodges were persuaded to give up and make the best of things. The situation remained acridly bad for them. By treaty, the Northwest Union forswore future attempts to get energy from the nucleus. Its navy was limited to a coast guard and its industry to whatever the Maurai Ecological Service should decide was not too dangerous. For enforcement, the Federation would keep bases at strategic spots and exercise unlimited rights of inspection. Such inducements as favorable terms of commerce scarcely healed the bleeding pride or lessened the weight of the shackles.

But at least there was peace. Terai could soon go home.

4

Walking down the village street, he had seldom felt so alone.

The place was lovely. Frame houses with flowering sod roofs stood well back from the pavement, surrounded by lawns and gardens, jauntily painted, many displaying carved designs on doors, gables, or beam ends. Behind them reared a fir forest; its odor brought the springtime coolness alive. To south, the snowpeak of Mount Rainier filled heaven with purity.

Yet isolation radiated from Terai, the outlander. Fair-skinned Norries and occasional squat brown Injuns stiffened when they saw him; children ceased their games; dogs snuffed wrongness, bristled, and snarled. None ignored him but a cat sunning itself on a porch and a raven that flapped hoarse overhead.

Well,
he thought tiredly,
what else did I expect? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But I told you, Launy, I’d show you my friendship whenever I could.

He found the house he wanted, mounted the steps, swung the wooden knocker. Anneth Birken opened the door. She was a tall woman, well formed, brown braids hanging down over the midcalf dress that was customary in this part of the Union. ‘Good day,’ she said, and recognized him and stepped back. Her eyes
widened till white ringed blue. ‘Oh –!’

Terai honored local custom by tipping his cap. He had been careful to don dress uniform, white tunic and trousers, but to leave off his decorations. ‘Good day, Mizza Birken,’ he said. When previously they met, almost four years ago, it had been on first-name terms. ‘I hope I’m not intruding. If you want, I’ll leave immediately.’

She made no response.

‘I wrote ahead, but I suppose you didn’t get my letter,’ he plowed on. The mails are still in poor shape. I learned your community radiophone is out of order too. This was my last chance to visit you, though. Next week I return to N’Zealann.’

Resolution congealed in her. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

He stood humbly, as if the upper hand were hers, and answered, ‘Only to call on you, for old times’ sake and to see whether I can help with anything. And, uh, and … if you wish … I can tell you about Launy’s last days, and his death. I was there, you see.’

She stood for a number of raven-croaks before she said, ‘Come in,’ and led the way.

The house was pleasant, in its somewhat dark and cluttered Northwestern fashion: it was full of mementos. She took him to the living room and gestured him to a chair as heavily built as the rest of her furniture. Above the fireplace he saw an oak panel carved with the emblem of the Lodge that had been Launy’s, and was hers too, as it happened: a wolf at full speed, a broken chain around its neck, and underneath it the motto
Run Free.

‘Please be seated, Commander Lohannaso,’ Anneth said. ‘I read your insignia correctly, don’t I? You have commander’s rank now? Can I offer you refreshment? I’m afraid we’ve no coffee or proper tea at the moment, but there’s herb tea, or milk or beer or cider if you prefer.’

‘Not unless you want it, thank you,’ he replied, thinking what an effort hospitality would be for her and what explaining to her neighbors she might have to do afterward. He longed for a smoke but remembered that she didn’
t
indulge, common though the vice had become in the Union as trade with the Southeast revived, and decided against hauling out his pipe.

She poised above him. Her mouth was drawn tense, her nostrils were flared and white. ‘You can tell me how Launy met his end,’
she said, flat-voiced. ‘I’m sure it was gallantly. But I’ve received nothing except the bare news, a year late.’

Terai nodded. ‘He was a prisoner aboard my ship. A random shell from his side killed him instantly. I never saw him flinch. In fact, he was standing by prepared to help
give
first aid if needed.’

‘I see. Then I’d like our daughter to hear this. Our sons, too, but they’re older and in school.’ She stepped into the hall and called upstairs: ‘Ronica! Come down here!’

A girl of perhaps five obeyed. If that was her age, she was big for it, within a tomboy’s smudgy sweater and jeans – but had she been cuddling a teddy bear in her room? When her mother made introductions, she grew mute and motionless, but not stiffly; Terai thought of a lynx kitten.

‘Sit down, Ronica,’ Anneth said, saw to it that the child did, and followed suit. ‘You are kind, Commander Lohannaso, and we’re fortunate. Also in your timing. In a month, we move to –’ She broke off. ‘No matter. Please tell what you have to tell.’

Terai had rehearsed the account in his mind, over and over. Despite that, he stumbled through it.

And Ronica’s green eyes got larger, narrower, larger, narrower. Tears coursed out, but silently, apart from the gulped breath. Her blond head never bowed. Did she remember her father at all? Very likely not – but from her kinfolk, chapter members of his Wolf Lodge, whatever memorial service they had been able to hold for him in wartime – yes, surely she did.

And at the end, although Terai gentled his narrative, she sprang to her feet, fists clenched, and cried in a tempest of rageful sobbing:

‘You killed ’im! You old Maurai killed ’im! But we’ll kill you! Orion shall rise!’

‘Ronica!’ Anneth swept from her chair to grab the girl to her. ‘Be still.’

‘Orion shall rise!’

The look that Anneth gave Terai was stark. ‘Excuse us, Commander,’ she said. ‘I made a mistake. If you don’t mind waiting, I’d better carry her upstairs and soothe her.’

‘I quite understand, Mizza Birken,’ he answered, lifting himself. ‘Take your time. I have a room at the inn, and don’t plan to catch the Seattle train till tomorrow. We’ll talk about Launy, or anything, as much as you want meanwhile.’ Awkwardly: ‘If you’d rather not, I can explore your woods, maybe get in a spot of birdwatching.’

Thank you, Commander,’ she said – the least bit less frozenly than before? – and hurried her daughter out.

He sank back into his chair.
What odd words for a youngster to scream,
passed through him.
Something she overheard from adults, I imagine, but something meaningful. … What meaning? Only a slogan, I suppose. Orion is the Hunter or, in some parts of the world, the Giant in Chains. It’s a winter constellation here, and the Northwest Union extends past the Arctic Circle. Nevertheless … this may bear watching.

For the next twenty years, off and on, as far as he was able, he watched.

‘The Otter stream took me and drowned me and carried me –

Quietly, quietly –

Throughout that summer day

From reeds as they rustled at Fallen Bridge fishing hole,

On into Idris Wood,

Where sun and shadows play.

‘The shaw opened up on the meadows of Arwy farm.

There was the apple tree

Where first I kissed my girl.

(Oh, afterward, hand in hand, stood we on Honey Hill,

Wild with surprise at how

The world was all awhirl.)

‘Past Alfenton village and dreams in its thoroughfares,

Toyed with and broken by

A boy who once was me,

The river sent rolling whatever was left of him

South toward Budley Bay,

Where first he saw the sea.

‘At Ottery Simmery, high gleamed the weathervane

Crowning a steeple through

These thousand years and more,

For here is our market, that traffics in memories.

Inns full of fellowship

Were beckoning from shore.

‘But on flowed the river, to Tipton where formerly,

Underneath ivy leaves,

I tried to learn a trade.

The signboard was there still, and greeted the ne’er-do-well

Faring unseen beyond