For Love and Glory

“It ought to be fairly obvious.” Was Ironbright capable of dry humor?

“That was insanely reckless, blasting the Forerunner guardian. I hope we aren’t included in the retaliation.”

“It has not happened thus far. Observation leads us to think that there are no others.” Ironbright leaned forward, as if to stretch across the kilometers till she hissed in the woman’s ear. “Still, delay among countless unknowns does certainly court disaster. For your own survival, you will do well to obey orders promptly and fully.”

“How can we unless we know what this is all about?” This nightmare upset of everything.

“Suffice it for now that the Great Confederacy has established sovereignty, which you have violated. You are therefore prisoners subject to what penalties any agent of the Confederacy sees fit to apply.” A pause, as though to give weight to what followed. “Do not claim innocence. At the black hole event, an agent of Asborg committed massive theft of data obtained at large cost and sacrifice, belonging to the Confederacy. Since then, Asborgans have freely made use of the information and disseminated it indiscriminately. Consider this the first of the sanctions to be imposed.”

Yes, Esker Harolsson did “borrow” and copy that file, recalled the calculator in Lissa’s head. How did the lizards find out?’’ We never publicized the fact. It somewhat shamed House Windholm. We simply released the data, because suppressing it would have been worse.… Well, the deduction was rather simple, after all. But what more about the incident has their intelligence service collected over the years? I wonder if Esker kept his own mouth shut. It’d be like him to at least drop what he imagined were sly hints—and at last be such a fool as to go to the lizards!

“No more delay,” snapped the trans. “Have your scanner sweep the compartment where you are. Identify each member of your crew. At once.”

Lissa cast a glance at Hebo. Though rage whitened his face, he shrugged. Dzesi hissed but sat still. “Do that,” Lissa told her ship, and named her companions.

A human would have nodded. The skin rippled down Ironbright’s neck. “This is as expected,” she said. And who led you to expect it? wondered Lissa. I can guess. “If you are concealing anyone, that will come to light and be punished. Meanwhile, it hardly matters. You have been cruising around in this system for some time. In due course you will give the details. Again, it does not matter at the moment. You surely sent a few hyperwave progress reports as you scouted. But now the guardian has disabled your transmitter.”

“And yours,” Hebo put in. “How else would you know?”

“Silence. These are your orders. Listen well, carry them out faithfully, and redeem your lives. The alternative is immediate death.

“We want all the information we can possibly get before reporting back. Authority is not designed for planetfall, nor does nest-honor let us risk her and our mission further in the possible hazards of closer exploration. You will make landing at one of those Forerunner installations, examine it as best you can, and keep us continually informed. We will take synchronous orbit, to observe and receive from above.”

Up in hyperjump escape range from this small planet, Lissa knew, though not too high for instruments with resolutions of less than a meter to follow what happened. Nor too high for hurling a missile. Transit time—Torben probably knew something about such weapons. He could figure out how long theirs would take to strike. A few minutes, at most. …

“Do you understand?” Ironbright demanded. “Repeat.”

“We’re to land, look around, stay in touch, and try to stay alive,” Lissa said mechanically. Then: “But just where? How? What’ll we do down there?”

“As for deciding on location, in our present state of ignorance that is a question of practicality,” replied the Susaian. “You may pool whatever information you have with ours, bearing in mind that your lives depend on accuracy. Since none of us know what the machines will do next, discussion will commence at once, decision be reached in minimal time, and maneuvers commence directly thereafter. I will turn you over to Navigation Officer Leafblue.” Again a brief span of silence. “If all seems to be going satisfactorily, you may thereafter converse with a human among us. He can further clarify the situation for you.”

XLVIII

Hulda curved slowly and cautiously toward a construction site in a low northern latitude not far east of the sunrise line. Lost to naked-eye visibility, the Susaian ship maneuvered to her station while always keeping the Asborgan in line of sight.

The three sat in the control compartment under a slight weight of deceleration. The silence between them seemed to thrum. Finally Hebo cried, “Oh, Christ, Lissa, I’m so sorry!”

The woman looked at him and raised her brows. “For what?” she asked.

“Getting you into this mess.”

“Don’t blither. You know damn well I got myself into it. And I’m not sorry. See what I’ve gained.”

They leaned as closely together as harness allowed. Arms encircled, lips clung. To hell with the fact that they weren’t alone. This could be their last time.

They let go when Dzesi said, “We are not foredone yet.”

Hebo regained a measure of balance. “No, by God,” he agreed. His fist smote the arm of his chair.

“Although if we are,” the anthropard murmured, “can the Ulas Trek somehow, someday know how we died, and that we died well?”

It oddly touched Lissa. What other wistfulnesses lay behind that tigerish face?

“Incoming communication,” Hulda announced.

Lissa’s pulse fluttered. “Accept,” she directed.

Romon Kaspersson Seafell’s image appeared on the screen. Hebo stiffened, Dzesi bared teeth. Lissa met the gaze. It was surprising that the man was not triumphant, but white-lipped, unkempt, and a tic at the right corner of his mouth. “Yes,” she acknowledged icily, “Ironbright said you might call.”

“What do your keepers allow you to tell?” Hebo jeered. “And is it the truth?”

Lissa shook her head at him. “No sense in quarreling,” she whispered. He scowled but nodded.

Although the pickup scanned all of them, Romon’s eyes were wholly for her. His voice stumbled. “I’m free to answer—most questions.… Lissa, Lissa, I never expected this!”

She caught the undertone of a trans rendering their Anglay into a Susaian tongue. “What did you expect, then?” she demanded.

“I— My House— You know what loyalty to one’s House means.”

“And status in it,” Hebo couldn’t help snorting, “power, personal profit.”

It stung, maybe, but it also stiffened. “Yes,” Romon gave back, “I spied on you. Why not? I’d always suspected you had some ulterior motive, above and beyond the profit you claimed you craved. When the chance came to learn more, the situation suggested that there was in fact something to learn, something you’d kept hidden from your backers, your partners.”

“My own business.”

“Must you humans always make those smug noises?” Dzesi muttered.

Romon spoke again to Lissa. “I should think you, at least, would understand. House Seafell needs an advantage. The big ones like Windholm have dominated our politics, our world, too long.” Hastily: “No offense to you, though, none, I swear.”

“Enough self-justification on both sides,” she snapped. “What did you do?”

He drew breath. “I took my information to the Seafell magnates. What else? It looked far-fetched to them. And yet, who knew? Our House couldn’t send an expedition. And if we did have the means, how could we keep possession of whatever we found? Nor did we want to bring in some rival House. Besides, yes, Torben, you were right about how that would have meant endless delay and debate and publicity, giving the game away to anyone ready to take prompt, decisive action.”