Starhammer (12 page)

"What's the prize money like for this one?" Jon asked, watching in fascination as hundreds of perfectly crafted video characters, each operated by a different video artist, was molded into a tremendous "big screen" image. The palace of Versailles, the clouds, the mud of the courtyard, barking dogs, children—everything was in place, including even the hum of the flies.

"Six thousand for the gold, four for the silvers. Pretty good for the timeslot."

Jon knew that Queen Alice in "Hidden Notebook" regularly won the ten thousand prize for top of the top show.

"By the way," Meg said, remembering something, "Clawenton Ravenish called. He found something else for us. Apparently there's a long-held belief on the watermoons of William that the Elchites were founded by the surviving members of the crew of the Testamenter battleship
Winston Churchill
. The crew ditched their ship and came to Nocanicus. They landed on the Ginger Moon and the Mooners helped them to get fast NAFAL back to the Hyades stars."

Jon snorted in disbelief. "Just because there are Testamenters in the Nocanicus system and a lot of them on the watermoons of William, that doesn't mean the
Winston Churchill
still exists."

"I haven't told you everything we've done around here though. I used my probability software to go through the Elchite case."

"And?"

"And I think you should seriously consider dropping the case."

"Not more crazy Testamenter stuff?"

"It's not crazy! There's nothing crazy about it at all. It fits the few facts we have quite perfectly. Assume the
Churchill
fled to one of the nearby dwarf star systems and the crew came here on the lifeboats. From here they went fast NAFAL to the far side of the Hyades and the inner hegemony. A few hundred years later the Elchite cult springs up in the inner human sphere; panhumanist, explicably antilaowon and violent."

"The Elchites were in business before that."

"Yes, but it's clear they were in decline, just one of thousands of small eccentric sects. They got a big boost about the right time."

His expression made her indignant.

"Remember, Jon, the Baada drives weren't like laowon gravitomagnetics. They could have fled a long way from Testament without the laowon being able to track them. Those drives could take you across the Galaxy on one fueling. They used the gravity potential of the stars themselves."

"So why does the Elchite come here then?"

"That's what we were wondering, Daisy and I. Since we didn't have old Sha3 to work it out with I called up the Jumbo at Hyperion U. No lock on Bioram use, there appear to be a few shreds of freedom left to us. Anyway, this is what we came up with."

On screen the king was getting closer. Dozens of grandiose personages in elaborate costumes were riding in and dismounting. In the near distance horns were blowing. A few big, spotted hounds came loping into the courtyard. It was uncannily realistic and Jon had to remind himself that it was all image creation by Masque nuts like Meg.

"There must be another alien race. Out beyond the nearside galactic arm. Perhaps in the opposite side of the Galaxy, but there must be another advanced species, a spacegoing species that the laowon are frightened of. Someone that we can appeal to for help." She grew passionate. "Someone's out there. We don't have to be all alone with the laowon, trapped in their Galaxy, doomed forever to be their slaves."

He wondered a moment. Was it possible? Objections rose immediately to mind.

"The Galaxy is vast. There may be other races but the laowon have been exploring for millennia and have yet to find anything more advanced than us. Nothing else has even had spaceflight."

"Of course, that's what they tell us. But how can we really know? You know perfectly well that very few humans have ever come back from the laowon centers. Our ambassadors, our scientists, the talented psi-able, all those who go to the Golden Court stay there. We don't hear very much from them. We know, therefore, only what the blues tell us."

He hesitated to say anything. She was insistent.

"Look, it fits the patterns we have. The Elchite apparently visited a laowon habitat crammed with noble bloods. What were they there for? Couldn't they have been gathered to meet with these aliens? Perhaps there is an emissary from the other side of the Galaxy. Or perhaps they simply had information about this other race. He killed them all to keep the information secret, and he came here because of the Elchite-Mooner connection that goes right back to the whereabouts of the
Churchill
."

"Here?"

"No, nearby, silly, like the Mooners say."

Then it was time for Roq, Meg's hunchback character, to make a move in the stable setting where he lurked. Meg had planned for Roq to press forward to kiss the royal stirrup and beg for alms. Roq's grotesque face was capable of the most pitiable textures.

On the main screen the king was refusing to dismount in the courtyard because there were too many people and assassins lurked everywhere. Soldiers were pushing forward to block the stable doors. The king rode in. Roq was ready to perform.

Suddenly the screen crackled and an alarm light flashed from Daisy. The word "override" in huge letters was followed by some code in laowon digits, and then the face of the Morgooze of Blue Seygfan appeared on the screen.

Meg cursed and pressed the dump switch, but the override continued. The main screen stayed tuned to the Morgooze's call.

"Damn you!" yelled Meg.

The young Morgooze was unused to being spoken to in such a manner. "Silence!" he bellowed. His mane stood out stiff and his eyes seemed to glow.

Iehard was genuinely afraid at the sight of that anger.

Trembling slightly, he said, "Please switch to another screen, Morgooze. You are committing an act of gross discourtesy, breaking into a Masque scene that my colleague has worked on for weeks." Jon struggled to keep his voice level.

"Get the fuck off my screen!" Meg screamed, desperately hammering an emergency patch code to take her out of phone transmission momentarily and onto another standby line.

"Discipline that female!" the Morgooze shrieked turning visibly purple.

Meg finally got Daisy back under her own control and switched the Morgooze off the main screen and onto a screen that swung up to Jon on an extensor.

The scene in the stable was over. Roq had stood sullenly by while the king passed. The stablemaster had ordered the miserable hunchback to be whipped for presenting such a sad spectacle to his majesty, not to mention a million viewers.

With a cry of disgust, Meg dialed out of the game, then got up from the pit and went in search of instacaf. She lit a syntabac and puffed it angrily.

The room crackled with anger; onscreen the Morgooze was having a tantrum in laowon. "That female must be..."

Jon broke in suddenly with the hunting tongue. "She is inconsequential to our great purpose, Morgooze. Perhaps mercy would be the best aspect of radiance to shower upon her?" He employed only a hint of rebuke, exactly as it might have been phrased by a trusted adviser of the same caste. No human had ever addressed the Morgooze thus. He stared, speechless.

"How may I assist you?" Jon asked, trying to be gracious and helpful. Laowon could be so prickly and difficult sometimes.

The Morgooze visibly struggled to control himself. The purple faded. The eyes continued to stare but the harsh orders of command did not leave his lips. He had to remember that this was not Lao the Golden, this was a frontier system in the back of beyond and that it was impossible to get anything done unless one remained on civil terms with the humans.

"What progress have you to report?" he finally snapped.

Jon spread his hands. "Actually, very little so far. The Superior Buro denies access to most of the relevant data. We have barely begun to search as a result. You should ask the Buro why they don't want your mission to succeed. They will listen to you, of course."

The Morgooze snorted, gave Jon an ill-tempered look. "Bah, these are excuses. I want results and I want them quickly. Get out and find this man. Unless you achieve something soon, I shall demand your head when I return to Lao." The Morgooze abruptly cut the contact.

Jon dimly heard Meg give a whistle behind him. "That really ices your cake, now doesn't it?"

Jon rolled out of the computer pit, sat down, and poured some instacaf. "Trouble is he really means it."

"All this for five thousand credits each; is it really worth it?"

Jon wondered how the Nocanicus authorities would handle such a request by the Morgooze. Somehow he doubted he would get that much protection; Blue Seygfan represented a vast power. "We'll find the Elchite, everything will be all right."

Meg threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is incredible. You're saying that unless you jump at this blueskin's command and find something, somehow, with no recent information about the Elchites other than that picture, he'll kill you and take your head back to Lao?"

"Well, he will try, and he can afford to send a lot of killers. I don't know that the Grandee cops would even put up much of a struggle on a laoman's behalf either."

"Now, Jon! You're human. They wouldn't let an alien get away with that."

"Meg, this particular alien is the space-damned Morgooze of Blue Seygfan! Do you understand what that means? He controls a million laowon shock troops, a fleet of three hundred battlejumpers. Blue Seygfan directs the affairs of ten thousand solar systems. Above this young Morgooze are only the Urall and the male offspring of the Urall, if any, beyond the age of seven years. The Urall of Blue Seygfan is third in line to the Imperiom itself!"

Meg shuddered and then began to cry. Somehow this weakness in her was more appalling than anything else. He put his arms around her and she wept on his shoulder.

"Oh, Jon, I can't stand this. I can't stand it that we're not free. That the damned laowon are taking over, snuffing out human freedoms forever."

They sat together for a long time.

Out on the dorsal extension the gravity was low, humans were rather rare, and the warehouse corridors were severely utilitarian.

Before he reached the section he sought, a strip of bonded warehouses sealed behind steel gates, Jon had pulled himself down the handpole set in the center of the cavernous passageway for what seemed like hours.

When he saw the Baltitude Security Company logo, he halted and started counting. At the fifth tier of gates he found the one designated by Clawenton Ravenish, No. 45b. Here was supposed to be a locked gate, a hidden Elchite temple.

Instead Jon found an open gate and an open warehouse that was completely empty. Momentarily stunned, he floated inside the perfectly bare interior. The 10,000 credit units suddenly seemed light-years away again. And poor old Clawenton would have to forget his Elchite ceremonial vestments and altar of Earthstone. Whatever the Elchite trader had left there long ago, the Elchites following had already taken away.

With brows furrowed, Jon hurried back to the gravity zones.

When he finally got home it was only an hour before midnight and he was exhausted. He kicked off his spaceboots and dumped his jacket, yelled at the TV, and poured himself a shot of fuelas incentivos victorios.

He was determined that in the morning he'd tell Petrie he was quitting the job. His chest hurt. The fuelas tasted good but did horrible things to his stomach. He belched.

The phone lit up with a purple flash. Security code. He stared a moment—could he really stand another conversation with the Morgooze? Then he opened the line. To his surprise the features of Melissa Baltitude appeared on the screen.

"Mr. Iehard, I finally caught you in!" she exclaimed a little breathlessly.

On the spot Jon decided she was rather an attractive young lady. "You're out of the hospital."

"Oh, for hours, such a dreary place. My arm's in a sling, my foot's in a big rubber bandage, and I can't go out to the Orbiters' Ball." She sounded quite distressed.

So she was bored and lonely and interested in a little rough trade to keep her occupied? Rich girls had done this to him before. Jon sighed. "I'm sorry about that."

Wait till you see the scars the stupid assistant surgeons left on my ass when they cut out Magelsa's brand. His thoughts rolled down a slightly bitter track.

"So, I had a great idea. I thought I'd call you up and ask you over to dine with me, and you could tell me about yourself and your dangerous life."

"Exactly."

"What did you say, Mr. Iehard?"

"
Very
dangerous life."

"Yes, I'm sure. But now it's so late that I've already had dinner and I'm just sitting here alone, sipping wine and looking out the window."

"You're not a big one for Masque then?"

"I hate computers, Mr. Iehard. I prefer my people real."

Jon had a sudden idea. Galvanized, he got right to the point.

"What would you say if I came over to see you right now? And we sipped some of this wine together and looked out the windows."

She would be delighted, she said.

A few minutes later he hurried away down the corridor, picking up his Superior Buro tail and leading her to the transit stop. There he paused a moment, entered a car ascending to the higher-numbered octagons. A woman in a blue suit had followed him on. He sat down. So did she. He stood up and jumped out of the car just as its lights flashed to signal the door was closing.

The woman in blue had jumped, too. He entered the car going down to the low numbers and rode two stops. He got off and ran across the platform and into the train going up. He noticed the woman in blue and a man in a tan leisure suit and white shirt.

He rode back two stops and jumped out, ran out of the station, and immediately dived over the retainer wall of the ramp into a huge ornamental pot of ivies.

A few moments later the woman in blue puffed up the stairs and paused. She looked up and down the ramps in bafflement. The man in tan appeared. They conversed together in low tones, then separated, she going up ramp and he going down.