Ann Chang sipped at an unremarkable port while the mess stewards silently cleared away. She half-listened as Falkenberg went through a meaningless ritual of thanking the Acting Mess President, as if Captain Fast weren't Falkenberg's adjutant and chief assistant. Come to that, this whole dinner has been pretty unremarkable. Nothing wrong with it, really: there'd been four courses and two kinds of game, and nothing was overcooked; but you could dine on the same fare in a dozen restaurants within two kilometers of Government House. Certainly the meal wasn't anything worth inviting the governor to—and there was even less about it to have made Carleton Blaine insist that she change her dinner plans and come with him. Funny. I don't think I've ever heard him so insistent about anything. Odd.
Not a lot of people here. Colonel Falkenberg and Major Savage—apparently neither of them married, was there something strange about that? Captain Frazer's wife seemed to be the official hostess. And of course Prince Lysander had brought that hotel girl. Captain Catherine Alana had come in late. Odd. Didn't I see her in town, outside Government House, just this afternoon?
A trivial dinner, and that didn't make sense. Why would Falkenberg invite the governor and his Chief Administrator to a very ordinary meal on such short notice? But Blaine had seemed pleased, even eager; almost as if he were anticipating something— She gasped involuntarily.
Could he know? No. Certainly not. He wasn't that good an actor. "The guilty flee where no man pursueth." Who said that? It certainly applies to me, Ann thought.
The toasts were over. All at once Falkenberg, the governor, and Captain Rottermill were standing at her chair.
"Excuse me for a few minutes, would you, Ann?" Blaine said. "The colonel has some news for me. Apparently it's sensitive enough that I mustn't share it with anyone, even you. Can't imagine what it might be, but there it is. We shouldn't be long. Perhaps you'll join Prince Lysander and his young lady for a while?"
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Ann said automatically.
"Of course you will," Blaine said. He walked away with Colonel Falkenberg.
Captain Rottermill stayed behind. "It's really not all that complicated, Mrs. Chang," he said. "Something to do with shipping schedules, I think."
"I—shipping schedules?"
"A minor discrepancy somewhere," Rottermill said. "Ah. Here's Prince Lysander. I'll leave you in his good hands." Rottermill bowed and followed Falkenberg and Blaine.
What is this? Ann looked around wildly. Nothing seemed to have changed. No one was watching her. But— Something's wrong. Terribly wrong. She fled to the women's room.
No one else was inside. She stayed there as long as she thought she decently could. When she came out, Captain Alana was waiting for her. Captain Catherine Alana, and five soldiers in combat fatigues. Three were women. They all carried weapons and wore "MP" brassards.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chang," Catherine Alana said. She didn't seem at all like the young lady who'd been at the governor's dinner party only two weeks before. "I must ask you to come with us."
"What? But I'm supposed to be with Prince Lysander—"
"We'll explain to His Highness," Captain Alana said. "I'm sorry, but I really must insist." Catherine gestured, and her soldiers surrounded Ann Chang.
No one had touched her, or even been impolite, but Ann knew better than to resist. She nodded helplessly and followed her captor.
They took her to a bare, unadorned room. A folding plastic table and two folding chairs stood on the plastic floor. They ushered her inside and left her there alone.
They can't do this! Inside, she knew they could. There were special laws and regulations for officials of very high rank. Governor Blaine had plenty of authority to deal with suspected treason.
Treason. But it wasn't. I'm no traitor—
The door opened, and a young man about thirty years old came in. He wore sergeant's stripes on his undress khaki uniform. "Good evening," he said perfunctorily. "I am Special Investigator Andrew Bielskis. For the record, are you Ann Hollis Chang, Chief Administrator of Tanith?"
"Yes. Yes, I am. And by what right are you talking to me like this?"
"Just routine, Ma'am."
A sergeant. Not even an officer. Ann set her lips in a thin line. "I see no reason why I should speak to you at all. Please inform Governor Blaine that I want to go home now."
"The governor's busy with the colonel, Ma'am." Sergeant Bielskis said. "Now, we understand you're saying there are no ships in orbit around Tanith at present. Is this correct?"
"I don't have to answer that!"
"No, Ma'am. We have the tapes of your conversation with Colonel Falkenberg this afternoon. I'll play them if you like."
"This is none of your business!" Ann shouted. "I want to see the governor!"
"I'm afraid it is my business, Ma'am," Sergeant Bielskis said. "Colonel Falkenberg's contract stipulates the neutralization and suppression of all organizations and persons dedicated to the overthrow of the lawful authorities of Tanith. Do you deny cooperating with the rebels?"
"What? But—"
The door opened and Captain Rottermill came in. His face was slightly red, as if he'd been running. "Sergeant Bielskis, what is this? Madame Chang, my apologies!"
Thank God! "No harm done, Captain. Thank you."
"Now, Bielskis, just what do you think you're doing?"
"Preliminary interrogation of detainee, sir," Bielskis said.
"Sergeant, for heaven's sake, this is the Chief Administrator of this planet!"
"Makes no difference, sir. We have solid evidence—"
"Evidence, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir. At 1548 P.M., suspect having been instructed by the governor to inform this Regiment of all space traffic at present and for the future, personally stated to Colonel Falkenberg that there were no ships in orbit around Tanith and none expected. At approximately 0845 two days ago a Tanith landing ship under contract to Amalgamated Foundries, Inc. delivered supplies, liquid hydrogen, and liquid oxygen to CDMS Norton Star, which ship was then and is now in orbit around this planet. The landing ship requested and received clearance from the governor's office. Sir."
"Good Lord. But surely Mrs. Chang was not aware—"
"You can spare me the act, Captain," Ann said. "Although I must say you're very good at it. Tell me, Sergeant, what do you do when you're not intimidating middle-aged grandmothers?"
Bielskis shrugged. "Pull the wings off flies, Ma'am?"
Ann chuckled. "All right, Captain, what's going on here?"
"We've got you, you know," Rottermill said. "Voice Stress Analyzers this afternoon, and this room is equipped with a full battery of remote physiological sensors."
"Got me—"
"That may not be the best way to put it," Rottermill said. "If we were concerned with legalities, we'd have you. But of course that's not part of our job here. Sergeant, why don't you find us something to drink? Would you care for a brandy, Mrs. Chang?"
"Captain Rottermill, I would love a brandy."
"Good. Now let's get square with each other. So far the only people who know about this conversation are you, me, Sergeant Bielskis, and Captain Alana."
"Captain Catherine Alana?"
"Of course. She's a witness. Would you like her to join us?"
"Why not, if she's going to listen?"
"Very well. Now, as I say, this hasn't gone very far yet. There's no reason for it to reach the governor unless you want it to."
"Well—I'd really rather not disturb him," Ann said.
Rottermill smiled briefly. "Precisely. So why don't you just tell us all about it."
"All about what?" Ann said.
"Mrs. Chang, I can't turn you over to Sergeant Bielskis without the governor's consent, and I'd really hate to go ask him for that, but I will if I have to."
The door opened and Catherine Alana came in. She carried a tray with a brandy decanter and glasses.
"I used to think you were nice," Ann Chang said. "That was you I saw outside Government House today, wasn't it?"
"Oh, dear, you weren't supposed to recognize me," Catherine said.
"So you knew, even then," Ann mused. "All right, what do you want to know?"
"To start with, how long you've been cooperating with the rebels," Rottermill said.
Ann laughed. "That's easy. Since about three o'clock yesterday afternoon."
Rottermill was shocked.
That got him! "I do believe your boss is nonplussed," Ann said to Captain Alana. "But it's true. I'm afraid if you want to 'turn' me and use me as a double agent, it won't work. You see, I'm not a rebel."
Rottermill glanced down at his oversized wristwatch and frowned. "I believe you. So why were you withholding important information from the governor?"
"Yes, of course, that is the question. I'd really rather not say—"
"Mrs. Chang," Rottermill said. "We can find out. But if my OSI people start moving around Government House, we won't be able to keep anything a secret. Won't it be better for all of us if we keep it among ourselves?"
Ann sighed. "Oh, I suppose so. May I have that brandy now? Thank you. Well, it started with a request for a dinosaur permit. . . ."
Everett Mardon stared at the uniformed men on his doorstep. "Let me get this straight. Mrs. Chang wants me to come with you to Colonel Falkenberg's camp?"
"Yes, sir," the sergeant said. "Here's her note, and she sent this compact along. Said you'd recognize it. Said to tell you it's something to do with keeping a promise she recently made to you."
Alicia called from the other room. "Who is it, Ev?"
"Some people your mother sent," Everett said. "She wants to see me tonight."
"What? But we're playing bridge at the Hendersons'!"
The sergeant coughed. "I was told to keep this as informal as possible, sir."
"Meaning I don't really have a choice?" Everett demanded.
The soldier shrugged.
"I see. Alicia, you'll have to call Brenda and tell her we can't make it. I really do have to go."
"Good thinking," Sergeant Bielskis said.
Alicia Mardon tried to telephone Brenda Henderson but the phone was dead. A few minutes later a very helpful young technician arrived. It would take a while to get the phone working, he said; but he'd be sure to see the Hendersons got the message.
Half a dozen men were clustered around the map table in the regiment's conference room. When Lysander was ushered in, Governor Blaine raised a questioning eyebrow at Falkenberg.
"Prince Lysander located the enemy's headquarters," Falkenberg said.
Lysander opened his mouth to correct Falkenberg, then thought better of it.
"Did he? Congratulations, Your Highness." Blaine turned back to his inspection of the map table. "Rochemont. I knew the Girerds had a major hand in this mess, but I hadn't thought they'd get them this dirty." He shrugged. "So now we know where they're probably storing the borloi. But—as I understand it, Colonel, you haven't the ability simply to take the place by storm."
"That's about the size of it," Falkenberg said. "Not even if we commandeered every air-transport vehicle on the planet. Barton's got more than enough anti-air defenses to hold that place long enough to get the stuff out." Falkenberg smiled faintly. "Of course we could very likely manage to destroy it."
"Good Lord," Blaine said. "Colonel, please! Assure me that won't happen. It's all Bronson's people would need to put Grand Admiral Lermontov in a cleft stick. Not to mention the whole Grant faction in the Senate."
"We'll take every precaution, Governor," Falkenberg said. "So, I imagine, will Barton's Bulldogs."
"That's certain," Amos Fast said. "If that crop's lost, there's nothing to pay him with."
"It occurs to me," Major Savage said, "that Major Barton must have made contingency plans. Specifically, he must have a way to remove the merchandise on short notice."
"Well, now that his ship's here, he can just send for the landing boats, can't he?" Captain Fast said.
Governor Blaine frowned. "Ship? What—"
"CDMS Norton Star. An asset of Amalgamated Foundries, Inc."
"Here now? In orbit? Why the devil wasn't I told?" Blaine demanded.
"We'll get to that," Falkenberg said. "Amos, you've got a firm ID on the ship? Good. What do we have on her?"
"Unscheduled merchantman," Fast said. He tapped keys on the control console. "Carries her own landing boat. One moment, sir—there's more coming in. Ahah. She's commanded by one Captain Nakata, formerly of the Imperial Meiji fleet. Let's see what we have on him . . . Hmm. As of last spring there was a Lieutenant Commander Yoshino Nakata on the rolls. Four standard years' service as skipper of an assault carrier."
Major Savage whistled softly.
"Good Lord." Blaine stared at the map. "An assault carrier commander, an experienced one at that, skippering a tramp merchantman with her own landing ship. My God, Colonel! I've been at Rochemont. It's on an inlet, you know—the deep water runs almost all the way to the main compound. A landing ship could—"
"Exactly," Falkenberg said. "That's the assumption we're working on."
"Well, damn it, Colonel, what are you going to do about it?"
"That's what we're here to decide, sir," Falkenberg said.
"Governor," Captain Fast said, "The Kuryev's still in the system. You could recall her—"
"To do what?" Blaine asked.
"Recover the cargo from Nakata," Fast said. "If Kuryev gets here before Norton Star's boat takes the stuff off planet, there's no harm done—we just borrow Kuryev's assault boats and go in ourselves."
"Captain, that's absurd," Blaine said. "First, I've no authority whatever to order a CD warship to board a CD merchantman—"
"Not even to seize contraband, sir?" Fast suggested.
"Borloi's not contraband, Captain. And you can be sure Norton Star will have a perfectly legal bill of sale for anything anyone might find on board," Blaine said. "I suppose I could claim we're sequestering goods against payment of taxes, but I don't for a minute think the CD Council would back me up. Sure, they might order Amalgamated Foundries to pay taxes and imposts, but I have no doubt the Council will turn the cargo right back over to them."
"Excuse me, Governor," Prince Lysander said. "I'm a little confused. Aren't the planters committing a crime—even an act of rebellion—by keeping back their crops?"
"Of course they are. But it's only a crime on Tanith," Blaine said. "The regulation that says all borloi has to be sold to the Lederle Trust is a perfectly legal Order in Council; but it's an internal matter, quite outside the jurisdiction of the CD. Surely the circumstances are similar on Sparta. The CoDominium isn't likely to enforce your domestic regulations."
"Yes, of course. But somehow I thought it might be different here, since this is a CD planet—"
"I take it then," Major Savage said carefully, "that in this case possession is considerably more than nine points of the law."
"Which leaves us exactly where we started," Captain Fast growled. "We can't just take Rochemont because we don't have transport to get enough troops there fast enough. Meanwhile, any minute now they could just drop in and pick up the stuff."
"At least the governor can refuse to give them a landing permit," Lysander said.
"Not that it would do any good," Blaine said. "Tanith doesn't have planetary defenses or warships. If they want to land, there's nothing to stop them."
"Besides, they already have a landing permit," Captain Fast said.
"What! How—"
"Approved by your office, Governor," Fast replied.
"How the—Colonel—"
"Later, please, Governor. At the moment we seem to have ourselves a problem."
"Christ on a crutch," Sergeant Miscowsky muttered. He glared at his watch, then back at the tangle of vines and bright flowers hanging over the brackish water. "I think I just screwed the pooch again."
"Nah," Corporal Tandon said. "You told him to start late, so he did. He'll get here."
"Shit, how's he going to find us?" Miscowsky demanded. "There's ten channels to this fucking excuse for a river."
"He'll find us," Owassee said.
"If he can get the boats. I didn't get the idea that uncle of his was all set to help us."
"Hell, Sarge, you worry too much."
"I get paid to worry." Miscowsky looked again at his watch. "He gets here or not, we still have to report our position. Better get set up, Nick."
"Right." Tandon took gear out of his knapsack. He set the point of what looked like a large corkscrew against a goshee tree trunk and drove it in, turning the handles until it was seated solidly in the corky wood. When he had the horn-shaped antenna firmly in place, he unpacked the hand-cranked generator and plugged the radio set into it. "Okay, Owassee, you're junior man now."
"One bad thing about letting the kid go," Owassee muttered, but he took the generator and strapped it to a log, attached the handles, and gave it an experimental turn. "Ready when you are, C.B."
Miscowsky consulted his watch. "Not long now. Maybe ten minutes. Wish that kid—"
There was a low whistle from upstream.
"Goddam," Miscowsky muttered.
Another whistle, then what might have been an answering one.
"Sumbitch! That's Cloudwalker all right," Tandon said.
A minute later two flatbottomed skiffs came into sight. Jimmie Cloudwalker was perched in the bow of the first. Buford Purdy stood in the back with a long pole. The second skiff was poled by Etienne Ledoux. They piloted the boats to the bank and tied them to low branches of the overhanging trees.
"Good to see you," Miscowsky said, as his troops and Ledoux jumped onto solid ground. "Wondered if you might have trouble borrowing a boat."
"I am still not certain this is wise," Ledoux said. "You have told me the Girerds are already enemies of the governor."
"That's for sure," Miscowsky said.
"I have considered. They claim this land. It is no real use to them—few can live and work here—but still they claim it." Ledoux shrugged. "Eh, bien. I can take you within three kilometers of the Girerd hills. We will be there by midnight. Then I will take my boats and go. With God's help the Girerds will not know the—guests on their land gave you aid. But if you should find our assistance of value—perhaps you will remember us. No one cares to be a guest forever."
"We won't forget you."
"Time to check in, Sarge," Tandon said. He plugged his helmet set into the radio and began speaking in a low voice. After a few moments he made adjustments with the control wheels on the antenna, listened, and adjusted again. Then he smiled and motioned to Owassee to begin cranking.
"My nephew has explained why you are not likely to be overheard," Ledoux said. "I confess I am still concerned—"
"So are we," Miscowsky said. "We don't want trouble any more than you do."
Tandon continued to speak in a low voice. Suddenly he straightened. "Sarge! The colonel wants to talk to you."