Young Rissa (17 page)

Suddenly, her spirits rising, Rissa wanted to seal friendship. “Hawkman — Sparline — perhaps I overreacted. My own tensions are no excuse. Now — you have my loyalty. Do I have yours?”
 

“On a personal basis, yes,” said Hawkman. “You realize, only Liesel speaks for Hulzein Lodge.”
 

But each reached to clasp one of Rissa's hands.
 

 

She brought the two suitcases; even though not estranged from the Lodge she expected to stay in the town — city? — for a time. Hawkman met her outside, at the aircar.
 

“Where is the pilot?”
 

“I'm right here,” he said.
 

“You?”
 

“To emphasize that you're truly a Hulzein connection. In this way, dal Nardo will see he can't make do with a hired duelist. And such scum won't bother you in my presence.”
 

He took the aircar up at a steep slant, to a calm level of air. She said, “Are you here as male protecting female? I cannot accept that.”
 

He laughed. “Not at all. In fact, Sparline would have brought you, but Liesel's call last night gave her tasks that keep her busy today.” Rissa looked at him. Well, if she were to trust him in large matters, she could not question him in smaller ones.
 

He steered between banks of cloud as though drawn to sunlight. Watching the looming hills and the streams that meandered between them, her thought was that Number One was indeed a world of beauty. Time passed more quickly than she realized; soon, ahead, she saw the spaceport — and beyond it, the settlement.
 

“Do you recognize
Inconnu
, Hawkman? From outside, I cannot tell the two ships apart. The other was not here when we landed.”
 

“I recognize it. Notice the turret guns, the projectors, topside? Now,
that's
strange — see the clear space around it? I expected he'd still be loading cargo.” On his control panel he turned switches. “I don't like this — I'm tuning in on the ship-groundside bands.”
 

They came closer; Rissa saw more details. For a hundred meters around
Inconnu
the ground was empty, and most of those who stood closest were armed. And ship's ramps were up and sealed.
 

Above the control panel a speaker came to noisy life. The sound was distorted but Rissa recognized Tregare's voice. “You in the aircar — what you think you're trying to pull? Clear off or I'll shoot you down. And
you
, Bleeker — I thought you had better sense. Call off your pipsqueak Air Force — and damned fast!”
 

Through a different speaker another voice sputtered. Under his breath, Hawkman muttered, “That's Alsen Bleeker.” Going no closer, he turned the aircar to circle the ship.
 

Bleeker's voice came more clearly. “Tregare! It's not mine, that air-car — I swear it isn't! I don't know anything about it — I've been right here, the past six hours since you closed your ship. All I want is my money, you pirate!”
 

“You got it — exactly as agreed, beforehand.”
 

“I told you, prices went up — it's not my fault.”
 

“Your prices always go up — that's an old groundhog trick. And like it or not, most ships have to pay. But not
Inconnu!
”
 

“If you want fuel, you'll pay.”
 

Tregare laughed. “I refueled first off; didn't you know? That's an old
spacer
trick. Sign off, Bleeker — I'm done with you.” His voice rose. “Now,
you
— the aircar! Who are you? What's your business?”
 

Rissa whispered “Please!” and took the handset. “Tregare! It is I — Tari Obrigo. I must talk with you.”
 

“Too late, Tari — no time. Bleeker'll be programming the defense missiles on me; I've got to lift. Glad you came, though. See you someday.”
 

“Wait! Your father is here — he brought me.”
 

“Hawkman? Sorry, but for him it's
years
too late — all the years since they left me in that UET hellhole.”
 

She looked to Hawkman, but he said nothing. “They could not help it — they had no choice! And they — they love you — they want to see you!”
 

“The pirate, the mutineer — in Hulzein Lodge? I doubt it.”
 

Hawkman took the handset. “Bran Tregare, the girl speaks truth. And she thinks enough of you that she would have come here against Liesel's command.”
 

“She's quite a girl, Hawkman. See that you treat her right.”
 

Hawkman's eyebrows rose. Rissa shook her head; he said only, “Yes — but, son, we miss you. Are we ever to see you again?”
 

When Tregare spoke, his voice was low. “I'll think about it. Next time, maybe.”
 

“And how long until then, Bran? Will your mother live to see that time?”
 

“I — I hope so.” Rissa heard another voice; then Tregare said, briskly now, “Liftoff coming — sixty seconds and counting. Scoot that car hard and fast, Hawkman — this lift is going to make waves — not like the time with you, Tari.” Hawkman turned the car and accelerated toward the town. They heard Tregare, faintly, speaking to someone else. Then, after a pause, “Good-bye, Hawkman — Tari. And the message I sent the family — make that
warm
regards.”
 

“Not — not love?” she said.
 

“In person, maybe — we'll see. Tregare out.” And the ship lifted.
 

Tregare had not exaggerated. Looking back Rissa saw people, lying flat for safety, rolled along the ground by the great blast. The ship still aground rocked and almost fell. When the shock wave reached the aircar they felt a mighty buffet, and Hawkman was busy fighting the controls. Then
Inconnu
was gone and the air quieted.
 

“Thanks for trying, Rissa. If it hadn't been for that bloodsucking Bleeker, maybe . . .” Then he smiled. “Well, at least the boy spoke to me.”
 

“Yes.” But her thought was elsewhere. “Hawkman? Now we know more about Tregare's reputation, do we not? He is called ‘pirate' because he refuses to be made victim.”
 

“Eh? Oh, yes — we'd suspected that much, knowing what some traders do to ships that can't fight. The Hulzeins, by the way, don't follow that practice — we charge what the market will bear, but once agreed, the price is firm.” After a succession of turns that mystified Rissa, Hawkman descended beside a large green building and landed. He turned to her. “You may have stirred up local politics a bit today. I expected it, as soon as I saw you'd have no chance for private speech with Bran Tregare — and you'll notice I didn't try to stop you from saying what you did.”
 

“I do not know what you mean, Hawkman.”
 

“It's only that until now no one on this planet — outside the Lodge — knew that Tregare is a Hulzein.” He laughed. “But don't worry about it — we've had storms before. We weather them.”
 

 

Inside the building, an elevator took them to the top floor. The office they entered occupied a full quarter of that floor; its large windows faced the Big Hills on one side and the town on the other. The plain, tinted metal walls were hung with pictures of varied scenic views. Behind a desk, a tall, heavily built woman stood to meet them.
 

“Hawkman Moray.” She shook his hand and turned to take Rissa's. “I'm Arni Gustafson.”
 

“Tari Obrigo.”
 

The woman frowned. Rissa eyed her — squarish face, thick brown hair cut in a full bang to the eyebrows, then straight around below the ears. Finally; “Oh yes —
that
one. Hawkman? Are you here to claim Hulzein protection for her, against dal Nardo?”
 

“Not by blood or marriage, but she is a connection. However, I merely brought her here to speak with you.”
 

“I see. Her status means he can't hire her death without Hulzein retaliation. I'll tell him.”
 

She spoke again to Rissa. “How in this world did you manage to begin your stay here by rousing Stagon's bloodthirst? I'd have guessed you more apt to rouse him in other ways.”
 

“He made stupid threats; instead of cowering, I returned his fire in kind. Nothing more — except that others were present and saw.”
 

The woman sat again, gesturing toward a chair. Rissa seated herself; Hawkman moved to do so but Arni Gustafson said, “Your pardon, Hawkman — would you please wait in the lounge across the way? I'd like to speak with her alone,” Her hand moved at her desk console; at the upper end of hearing range Rissa heard a thin hum. Hawkman, at the door, turned with a worried look. Rissa smiled and nodded to him, and he left.
 

She knew that hum; Erika had also used truth fields. The ultrasonic waves that scanned her would report her reactions on the console.
 

She would, she thought, have to be very careful what she said.
 

“Have you come,” said Gustafson, “because I'm in authority over dal Nardo? If so, it's a waste of time. I have no say-so in his private life; I can't stop him from killing you.”
 

“I knew that. My question is this — when I kill him, will there be any retaliation from your agency?”
 

“
When?
” The woman stared at the console, looked puzzled and shook her head. “You mean that, don't you?” Rissa kept silent. “Yes, you do, all right. Well, then — the answer's no. I don't want Stagon killed — I don't like him, but he's capable, and about as honest as the next. If he dies, I'll be briefly inconvenienced. But
how
he dies — as with how he lives — is none of my business.”
 

“Good. Thank you, Ms. Gustafson. That is all I need to know.”
 

“Wait — sit back down —
I
want to know a few things. First — what is zombie gas?”
 

“I — I have never seen it used.”
So far, so good.
“From the name, I assume it would render the victim subject to the will of another, without the normal ego defenses.”
 

“And you're immunized against it?”
 

“It cannot harm me.”
 

“You intended to use it on dal Nardo?”
 

“I intended to do whatever was needed to escape his threats.”
 

“Young woman, I don't like the idea of you running around in my jurisdiction with something like that. Where do you carry the stuff — in a pocket? A piece of jewelry?”
 

“I cannot show you.” Sensing annoyance, Rissa added, “I mean, I have none with me. On a world where no one is immunized, it seems to me that it would be irresponsible to use such a thing — except in extreme emergency.”
 

The older woman scowled at her console and shook her head. “There's something,” she muttered, “but it's not clear.” She looked up. “You've breached no law — yet — so I can't slip you a babble pill to get at whatever you're talking your way around. So I'll try it another way. What's your attitude toward dal Nardo? And does it include anyone else?”
 

“Dal Nardo intends me dead. Now it seems he must do it himself. My only alternative, I am told, is to kill him instead — so if I must, I must. As to others, I mean no harm to any who mean none to me.” After a moment, she smiled. “Is that good enough?”
 

“Better than most. All right — I guess you pass. I must say, your attitudes don't fit dal Nardo's description.”
 

“You did not try to treat me as he did.”
 

“No — he's one of a kind. Let me give you some advice. If you went and apologized to him, he might — just
might
— settle for first blood or first mutilation rather than death. If he doesn't, you haven't lost anything.”
 

Rissa shook her head. “I would lose something very important to me. But I will give
him
the chance to apologize, if he wishes.”
 

“Tari Obrigo, you're a hopeless case! Well, I'm glad to have met you, and truly sorry it's probably the last time.”
 

“Thank you — but I expect you
will
see me again, after all.”
 

 

Until they left the building, Hawkman said nothing. Then; “Any problems?”
 

“Not really. Dal Nardo's death is his own business. And I hear well at the high end of the range — I knew when she turned the truth field on. Then I needed to plan quite carefully each word I said.”
 

“I had the hunch that you're hiding something — but for the life of me I can't guess it. Well, I won't pry.”
 

“I — it is only that — “ Then in a burst of frankness she told him of her impromptu invention and dal Nardo's reaction. “But if his aides have spread the story, you see? It might be useful another time.”
 

He laughed. “It might, at that. Well — do you want to see dal Nardo now, or have some lunch first?”
 

“I could not eat. I confess — my stomach is tight within me. Let it be dal Nardo.”