The Gripping Hand (23 page)

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Authors: Larry Niven,Jerry Pournelle

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Speculative Fiction

BOOK: The Gripping Hand
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"Yes, exactly. Spacesuits and habitats were improved. The sons of transportees were trained as astronauts.
Of course
the next generations began mining their own local asteroid belts. New Chicago had built their foundries and shipyards and taught their people the skills, but meanwhile all the settled solar systems were building their spacecraft in the asteroids. New Chicago was geared for a boom that would never come.

 

 

"Then the First Empire came apart. New Chicago did very well out of the Secession Wars."

 

 

"Oh," Lord Blaine said.

 

 

"Do you see it? New Chicago's boom period came during the first crisis. That was when my grandfather made his first contact with the place. He was one of the founders of the ALO."

 

 

"I still don't get it," Sally said. "What did the ALO want from New Chicago?"

 

 

"Ships."

 

 

"Why?"

 

 

"Everyone needs ships. Certainly Levant and the other Arab worlds did. Then, later, when the Second Empire was proclaimed, there was another reason. New Chicago was new to the Empire. Here was a source of ships that were never in any Imperial registry."

 

 

Lord Blaine looked puzzled.

 

 

"Untraceable?" Sally asked.

 

 

Bury nodded. "An Outie world geared to make spacecraft, desperate for custom."

 

 

Sally looked up at the ceiling. "Fyunch(click)."

 

 

"Ready."

 

 

"In what class was Levant admitted to the Empire?"

 

 

"First. Full self-governing, with interstellar capability."

 

 

"With New Chicago ships?" Blaine asked.

 

 

Bury shrugged. "Any planet when the life support fails."

 

 

"But that was long before the revolt," Blaine said.

 

 

"Certainly, my Lord. That was in my father's time. Now think back thirty-five years. Today you see the Empire as successful. I invite you to see it as we did then."

 

 

"Which was how?" Rod Blaine said. He saw that Sally was nodding to herself.

 

 

Lady Sally was trained in anthropology. Can that be useful?
"My Lord. Your Second Empire was only beginning. It had proclaimed itself Christian, and if you do not recall the history of the Crusades, I assure you that we Arabs remember! You had already incorporated Dyan into the Empire, and promoted Jews to high positions in your military and navy. Why in the Name of Allah the Merciful should any of us have trusted you?"

 

 

"Calm down," Renner said.

 

 

Bury glanced at the glowing graphs. "I'm
fine
. So, my Lord, at last you know. Yes, I helped instigate the New Chicago revolt, and to you it must have been from the blackest of motives. That would have been an Outie world, with an economy based on building spacecraft and a thirst for customers. Unregistered ships, in case Levant should need them. In case the negotiations with the Empire failed, or in case the Empire collapsed under its own vaulting ambitions. Empire of Man, indeed! We might well have been forced once again to proclaim jihad with no armies and no navies and nothing but the courage of our young men for weapons."

 

 

"And now?" Blaine asked.

 

 

Bury shrugged. "The Empire has been successful. You do not like us. Socially we are second class, but legally we have the rights you promised. Our planets are self-governing, under people of our own religion. The threat is now from the Mote, not from Sparta. There is no more need for the Arab Liberation Organization, and for the past dozen years I have presided over its liquidation."

 

 

"You're the Chairman, Horace?" Renner demanded.

 

 

"Not in name."

 

 

"Sure. You're not the formal president of the Imperial Traders Association, either. Holy catfish."

 

 

"Kevin,
we
presided over the liquidation of Nassari's group. He would not give up his ambition. I caused—"

 

 

"You made me dig up data on him and turn him in to the Imperials. Sure. You couldn't hardly tell them, 'Nassari isn't taking my orders anymore,' now could you?"

 

 

"I did what I had to do, Kevin." Bury turned to Blaine. "You see? We had a way to get unknown spacecraft for ourselves. New Chicago no longer has a place for such schemes, but another world might, or an asteroid belt, or an Oort cloud near an old supernova. If men want spacecraft, or if
Moties
want spacecraft of human manufacture, then — then you must have Horace Bury, the spy."

 

 

Into an uncomfortable silence Earl Blaine asked, "Your Excellency, just what are your plans, specifically?"

 

 

"Plans or ambitions?" Bury demanded.

 

 

"Eh?"

 

 

"I don't know enough to have specific plans. But already I have found out more about the Motie threat than Mercer knew. Or you, my Lord. I have abilities, I have money, and among Allah and my doctors and this chair I have energy. I propose to employ them all in the Imperial service."

 

 

And he waited.

 

 

"I'll withdraw my objections," Blaine said, ignoring a small sound of protest from Lady Blaine. "That's all I'll do, but I expect it will get you to the blockade fleet. God knows what you expect to accomplish there. Don't waste any more time than you have to."

 

 

"Thank you, my Lord," Bury said.

 

 
* * *

Sally waited for the door to close. Then she demanded, "Why?"

 

 

"You heard it all."

 

 

"But Rod, what's changed? The revolt on New Chicago, the bloodbath, the prison camps, he caused it all! He raped a world and he killed Dorothy!"

 

 

"
I
might have done the same in the service of the Empire.
I
might have been in
Lenin
's crew when Kutuzov burned Istvan down to bedrock. Bury's not just an opportunistic bandit anymore. He was defending his homeland."

 

 

"
Levant
."

 

 

"Mmm? But it's his world. The key is loyalty. He was an enemy; now he's an ally. He's protecting the Empire to protect Levant. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He sees the Empire as friends, the only hope against the Moties."

 

 

"He could be turned again."

 

 

"Hah! Yes. We set Renner to watch him, and Renner's been doing that for a quarter century. Maybe there's something that could turn Bury's loyalty. But not at the blockade. He won't accomplish anything there, barring a pep talk and some politics, but he won't do any damage. The blockade stands between Levant and the Moties."

 

 

"If Bury could see Moties as we do . . . Rod? How do you see Moties?"

 

 

Rod didn't answer.

 

 

"They destroyed your ship, and you'll never forget. I think you loved
MacArthur
more than you have ever loved me. But we've found the solution!"

 

 

"Have we? It works on Mediators. We don't know about Masters. We don't know if Masters would accept it even if it does work. They'd call it a Crazy Eddie answer."

 

 

"It will. It has to."

 

 

"Sally, we depended on the blockade. A few years from now we might not have a blockade . . . or a hundred years, maybe, or one. And you know how long it will take Sparta to decide to do something. Renner and Bury—"

 

 

She nodded slowly. "Action, not talk." She looked at the ceiling. "Fyunch(click)."

 

 

"Ready."

 

 

"General instructions, all department heads. List essential equipment and personnel for transfer of the Institute to New Caledonia."

 

 

"Acknowledged."

 

 
PART 3
THE MOAT AROUND MURCHESON'S EYE

To the question, what shall we do to be saved in this World? there is no other answer but this, Look to your Moat.

 

—George Sevile,
Marquis of Halifax

 
1: New Ireland

The foolish will now ask and say: "What has made the faithful turn away from the qiblah toward which they used to pray?" Say: "To God belong the East and the West. He guides who so wills to the path that is straight."

 

—al-Qur'an

 

 

 

 

Hyperspace links only specific points. The time required to travel from one Alderson point to another is immeasurably short; but once that Jump has been made, the ship must proceed through normal space to the next Alderson point. This can take weeks to months depending on the Alderson geometry, ship speed, and logistics.

 

 

Sinbad
was faster than most passenger liners, and Bury had arranged to be met by other ships of his fleet carrying supplies and fuel, so that
Sinbad
could go by the most direct route possible; and even so the trip lasted long enough to put everyone on edge. They remained polite; but everyone was glad that
Sinbad
's size allowed some privacy.

 

 

Yet Renner observed that the odd friendship between Bury and Buckman remained as strong as ever; and if the new Viceroy was tiring of being told stories of Imperial trade on the one hand, and the follies of Imperial science policy on the other, he showed no signs of it. Renner had long since taken to excusing himself quickly after the evening formal dinner.

 

 

He was glad to be able to announce the last Jump. "It'll be about midnight ship's time," he said. "Take your sleeping pills and you may sleep through it."

 

 

"I wish I could," Ruth Cohen said. "And I don't think I'll ever get used to Jump shock."

 

 

"You can sleep through it, but you won't get used to it," Renner said. "It's not something you can get used to. Anyway, this is the last for a while."

 

 

"One of my ships should be waiting," Bury said.

 

 

Renner nodded. "Yes, sir. They'll have been waiting awhile. We had a message saying it passed through three weeks ago."

 

 

Bury grimaced. "A costly rendezvous. Ah, well. Thank you, Kevin."

 

 
* * *

A thin, reedy voice rang through the ship, first in Arabic, then in Anglic. "Prayer is better than sleep! Come to prayer! I witness that the Lord our God is One God. I bear witness that there is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is the Prophet of Allah. Come to prayer. God is great! Prayer is better than sleep!"

 

 

Ruth Cohen sat bolt upright. "What in the world . . . ?"

 

 

The ship was in free-fall. The Velcro covers had held her snugly in the bed, and she'd got so used to gravity changes in the past few weeks that taking the spin off the ship hadn't awakened her.
Must have been done smoothly. She realized she was alone in the bed. And I really did sleep through the Jump, too.

 

 

Kevin Renner floated in from the adjoining cabin as the thin singsong finally ceased. "Shh."

 

 

"But—"

 

 

"Horace has visitors. Partners, or relatives, both maybe, from Levant on the supply ship. Bury has Nabil play muezzin when he wants to look like a conventional Moslem. Sorry I couldn't warn you, we only found out when we docked ships, and I was busy then."

 

 

"But—"

 

 

Renner grinned. "They wouldn't appreciate that
Sinbad
's pilot sleeps with a concubine."

 

 

"I am
not
—"

 

 

"Well, I know that, and you know that, but they won't know that. Anyway, I take it back. They won't be shocked that I have a concubine. They might not be thrilled by your name."

 

 

"Name."

 

 

"You're from Dyan."

 

 

"I'm not from Dyan, I'm from New Washington."

 

 

"I know."

 

 

"And I am a Navy officer, on assignment." She looked down at her translucent harem set and tried to grin. "Well, not on duty just at the moment—Kevin, this is not funny."

 

 

"Well, maybe not. At least it wasn't hard to figure the direction."

 

 

"Kevin—"

 

 

"Point toward Earth and you're facing Jerusalem and Mecca both. No difference from here. Same qiblah."

 

 

"What has this got to do with anything?"

 

 

"I read up on it once," Renner said. "When Mohammed first went to Medina, he preached that the Jews and the Believers were one people, all descended from Abraham, and they'd all have one Messiah. Maybe himself, but that wasn't established. One God, Allah, who was the same as the Jewish Jehovah. Mohammed venerated the Torah. Prayed toward Jerusalem."

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