Trelawny Sloshes, revealed that Smonny had at last settled an old score. She had captured Scharde Clattuc, confiscated his flyer, and taken him to her prison. Titus gravely shook his head. Scharde would pay dearly for the prideful attitudes which had cost Smonny such grief! As the flyer, it represented partial compensation for the flyers destroyed by the Bureau B raid. After drinking from his goblet, Titus Pompo asserted that it would not be the last flyer so confiscated!
“We will see about that” said Bodwyn Wook.
Scharde had been taken to the strangest of all prisons where 'out was in' and 'in was out’. The prisoners were at liberty to attempt escape whenever the mood came on them.
Bodwyn Wook paused in his reading to pour out two mugs of ale.
“That is a strange prison,” said Glawen. “Where could it be located?”
“Let us proceed. Floreste is perhaps a bit absentminded, but I suspect that he will not omit this important detail.”
Bodwyn Wook read on. Almost at once Floreste identified the unique prison as the dead volcano Shattorak at the center of Ecce: an ancient cone rising two thousand feet above the swamps and jungles. The prisoners occupied a strip outside the stockade which encircled the summit and protected the prison officials. The jungle grew high up the slopes; the prisoners slept in tree-houses or behind makeshift stockades to avoid the predators from the jungle. By reason of Smonny's vindictiveness, Scharde had not been killed out of hand.
Titus Pompo, now thoroughly drunk, went on to reveal that five flyers were concealed at Shattorak, together with a cache of weapons. From time to time, when Smonny wished to travel off-world, Titus Pompo's Clayhacker space yacht landed upon Shattorak, taking care to avoid the Araminta Station radar. Titus Pompo was quite content with his pleasant routines at Yipton: an amplitude of rich food; sloshes, slings, punches and toddles; incessant massaging and stroking worked upon him by Yip maidens.
'That is all I know' wrote Floreste. “Despite my happy relations with Araminta Station where I had hoped to build my great monument, I felt, rightly or wrongly, that I should not betray Titus Pompo's drunken confidences, for this reason: they would surely be revealed of themselves soon and without my intercession. You may consider this qualm weak-minded and maudlin. You will insist that ‘right is right' and any deviation or skulkery or failure to bear the burdens of virtue are ‘not right'. At this moment I shall not disagree.
“To make a feeble demonstration on my own behalf I will point out that I am not utterly faithless. As best I could, I paid my obligation to Namour, who would not have done the same for me. Of all men, he probably deserves consideration the least, and he is no less guilty than I. Still, in my lonely and foolish way, I have kept faith and allowed him time to make good his flight. I trust that he never troubles Araminta Station again, since it is a place dear to my heart, where I planned the Araminta Center for the Performing Arts: the new Orpheum. I have transgressed, but so I justify my peccancies.
“It is too late for tears of penitence. They would not in any case carry conviction — not even to myself. Still, when all is said and done, I see that I die not so much for my venality as for my folly. These are the most dismal words known to man: “Ah, what might have been, had only I been wiser!”
“Such is my apologia. Take it or leave it as you will. I am overcome by weariness and a great sadness; I can write no more.”
Wook placed the letter carefully down upon his desk. “So much for Floreste. He has declared himself. If nothing else, he knew how to contrive exquisite excuses for himself. But to proceed. The situation is complex and we carefully consider our response. Yes, Glawen? You have an opinion?'
“We should strike Shattorak at once.'
“Why so?”
“To rescue my father, of course!'
Bodwyn Wook nodded sagely. “That concept is at least simple and uncomplicated: so much can be said for it.'
'That’s good to hear. Where does the idea go wrong?'
“It is a reflex, prompted by Clattuc emotion rather than cool Wook intellect.” Glawen growled something under his breath which Bodwyn Wook ignored. “I remind you that Bureau B is essentially an administrative agency, which has been pressed to perform quasi-military functions only by default. At best, we can deploy two or three dozen operatives: all highly trained, valuable men. There are how many Yips? Who knows? Sixty thousand? Eighty thousand? A hundred thousand? Far too many.”
“Now then. Floreste mentions five flyers at Shattorak: several more than I would have expected. We can put at seven or eight flyers into the air, none heavily armed. Shattorak is no doubt defended by ground weapons. We strike boldly at Shattorak. In the worst case, we could take losses that would destroy Bureau B, and next week the Yips would swarm across to the Foreshore. And in the best case? We must reckon with Smonny's spies. We might storm over to Shattorak, land in force, and discover no fine jail, no flyer depot, nothing but corpses. No Scharde, no flyers, nothing, just failure.”
Glawen was still dissatisfied. 'That does not sound like the best case to me.”
“Only under the terms of your proposal.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“First, consideration of our options. Second, reconnaissance. Third, attack, with full stealth.” He brought an image to the wall screen. “There you see Shattorak, a mere pimple on the swamp. It is of course two thousand feet high. The river to the south is the Vertes.” The image expanded, to provide a view across the summit of Shattorak: a sterile expanse, slightly disk-shaped, surfaced with coarse grey sand and ledges of black rock. A pond of copper- blue water occupied the center. 'The area is about ten acres,” said Bodwyn Wook. “The picture is at least a hundred years old; I don’t think we have been there since.”
“It looks hot.”
'So it does, and so it is. I will shift the perspective. You will notice a strip about two hundred yards wide surrounding the summit where the incline begins. The ground is still barren except for a few large trees. These are evidently where the prisoners sleep. Below the jungle begins. If Floreste is correct, the prisoners reside around the strip, and are free to escape across the swamp whenever they like.”
Glawen studied the image in silence.
“We must scout the terrain with care, and only then proceed,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Are we agreed?”
“Yes,” said Glawen. “We are agreed.”
Bodwyn Wook went on. “I am puzzled by Floreste’s references to Chilke. It appears that he is here at Araminta Station only by reason of Smonny’s scheming to find and control the Charter. I wonder too about the Society on Old Earth: why are they not taking steps to locate the lost documents?'
“There are not many members left, so I am told.”
“Are they indifferent to the Conservancy? That is hard to believe. Who is the current Secretary?”
Glawen responded cautiously: 'I think that he is a cousin of the Conservator, named Pirie Tamm.”
“Indeed! Did not the Tamm girl go off to Earth?”
'So she did.”
“Well then! Since-uh, what is her name?”
“Wayness.”
“Just so. Since Wayness is present on Old Earth, perhaps she can help us in regard to the missing documents from the Society archives. Write her and suggest that she make a few inquiries into this matter. Emphasize that she should be absolutely discreet, and give out no clue as to her objectives. For a fact, I can see where this might develop into an important issue.”
Glawen nodded thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, Wayness is already making such inquiries.”
“Ah ha! What has she learned, if anything?”
“I don’t know. I have had no letters from her.”
Bodwyn Wook raised his eyebrows. “She has not written you?'
“I’m sure she has written. But I have never received her letters.'
“Odd. The doorman at Clattuc House has probably tucked them behind his wine-cooler.”
“That is a possibility, though I'm beginning to suspect another person entirely. In any event, I think that as
