March To The Stars

'I suppose ...' She hesitated for a moment, then inhaled and raised her head proudly. 'I suppose I should be turned over to the priests. If it will end the war.'

'Over my dead body,' Roger said conversationally, and smiled.

'Perhaps, human,' the Gastan said. 'And we have yet to deal with you. In fact, it is not my daughter towards whom the Fire Priests bend their malice, but one 'Baron Chang.' Would that be you, human?'

'It would,' Roger replied. 'And you won't be handing me over like a lamb to the slaughter, either.'

'Baron,' the Gastan mused. 'That is a noble of your human lands, yes?'

'Yes,' Roger agreed.

'You are responsible for the good of others, 'Baron'? You hold their lives in your hand and feel the weight of that?'

'Yes,' Roger replied soberly.

'I have lost over four hundred Shin warriors since this war started, 'Baron.' Including Thertik, my son and heir.' Roger heard Pedi inhale sharply, but the Gastan's attention never wavered from the human. 'That is the price my people and I have already paid. And you think that I would quail at the thought of turning you over to the Krath if it ends this slaughter?'

'I don't know,' Roger said. 'I would ask you this one thing, though. If they came up to you and pointed to one of your warriors and said 'Give him to me. We will sacrifice him to the God and devour him, and that will end this war,' would you?'

The Gastan regarded him levelly for a long moment, then made a gesture of ambiguity.

'Would you?' he responded.

'No,' Roger said. 'That was the choice put to us, and I rejected it. Pointedly.'

'Hmmm. But just who are you responsible for, 'Baron'? This group? These ragged mercenaries? Humans seem to have such in plenitude. Why not give one, if it saves others?'

'Because humans, and Mardukans, aren't pawns,' Roger said, then sighed. 'I can stand here debating this all day if you like, I suppose, but it's really not my forte. So are you going to try to kill us, or not?'

'So quick to the battle,' the Gastan said with a gesture of humor. 'Do you think you would win?'

'That depends on your definition of 'win,' ' Roger said. 'We'll make it out of this citadel alive, some of us, and we'll collect our group and leave. You'll get overrun by the Krath while you're trying—and failing—to kill us, and while that happens, we'll keep right on heading for the spaceport. It's nothing that we haven't done before. It will, however, tick off my asi's benan. I have to consider that.'

'Hmmm,' the Gastan said again. 'You're just going to walk to the spaceport, 'Baron'?'

'Of course,' Roger said. 'We're humans, after all. They'll accept us.'

'I see that you've fallen into evil company,' Pedi's father said. One of Roger's eyebrows arched at the apparent non sequitur, and the Gastan gestured at the IAS journalist who had been quietly recording the entire meeting. 'We have warning from the Office of the Governor that this man is a wanted criminal, a dangerous traitor and thief who should be returned to the port for trial,' he said.

'I'm what?' Mansul lowered the Zuiko and glared at the Gastan.

'I have other such messages, as well,' the Shin continued as if the journalist had never spoken. 'One of them mentions a group of humans, ragged mercenaries who may attempt to pass themselves off as Imperial Marines. They are to be considered very dangerous and should be killed on sight and without warning. There is a reward—a very attractive one, in fact—for their heads. What do you think of that,'Baron'?'

'Gastan, you know that's a lie about me, at least!' Mansul protested. 'So you must realize the rest of it is lies, as well!'

'Must I?' the Gastan asked easily. 'Softly, Harvard Mansul. I want to hear the answer of this human noble. This 'Baron Chang.' '

Roger regarded the Gastan for a long slow moment, then nodded.

'My name,' he said, clearly and distinctly, 'is Prince Roger Ramius Sergei Alexander Chiang MacClintock. And I am going to wipe the floor with the governor. And with anyone else who gets in my way.'

'Roger,' Pahner growled, and his hand dropped to the butt of his bead pistol.

'Softly, protector,' the Gastan said, raising his own hands in placation of both the Marine commander and of his own chieftains, who had shifted at the human's movement. 'Softly, Armand Pahner. Softly, humans, Shin. Friends. Friends I think, oh yes.'

He hefted the head of the High Priest. The climate of Marduk had not been kind to it, and he regarded the loathsome object coldly for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at one of his guardsmen.

'Bring me my sigil.'

He waited until the trophy staff was brought forward, then strode to the outer door. The humans followed at his gesture, and as they stepped onto the walls, the bull-throated roar of the Shin and the howling of the Krath forces arrayed against them pressed against their faces like the overpressure waves of distant explosions.

A large horn, longer than Roger was tall, had been laid upon the walls, obviously in preparation for this moment, and the Gastan first blew into a side valve. A mournful hum cut through the sound of the battle noise, and faces turned towards him from below. He gave them a few moments, then opened a speaking tube built into it.

'Krath!' he bellowed, and the megaphone effect sent his voice echoing across the valley like thunder. 'Here is the head of your High Priest! We have the humans who took it within our walls! And here is the answer of the Vale of Mudh Hemh to your demands!'

He raised the head high in both true-hands and spat upon it, his motions broad enough to the observable across the entire battlefield. Then he attached it to the highest point of the staff, raising it for all to see, and set the iron shod foot of the staff into a socket atop the battlements.

He left it there and strode back into the conference room without so much as another backward glance, his shoulders set, while the ear-splitting shouts of the Shin on the walls bayed jubilant defiance at the Krath. Roger and his companions followed, and the Gastan turned to them grimly.

'And so my daughter's allies are mine, as well, it seems,' he said. 'But, Prince Roger Ramius Sergei Alexander Chiang MacClintock and Captain Armand Pahner of the Bronze Battalion, if you think you are scurrying off to Marduk Port without helping us out of this mess my daughter has gotten us into, you are sorely mistaken.'

* * *

'There is a human group, the Imperial Bureau of Investigation,' the Gastan said as he passed over a flagon of wine. 'You know it, yes?'

'Yes,' Roger agreed, pouring a glass of the wine. The meeting had been narrowed down to the main staff and a few of the tribal leaders. The IAS photographer had managed to shoehorn himself into the group and was discreetly recording in the background, and Roger was—inevitably—accompanied by Dogzard. But for once, the size of Roger's entourage wasn't completely out of hand.

As their commanders settled down to talk things over, both groups of subordinates were weighing each other and wondering who was bringing the most to the table.

There were certainly more of the Shin. At the first sign of the Krath attack, the Gastan had gathered the tribes, and every segment of the Shin Mountains was represented. There were at least three distinctly separate groups, distinguishable by their armor and weapons, as well as their features.

The most numerous group seemed to be the one associated closely with Pedi's father. They were of about normal height for Mardukans, armed with a motley of weapons—mostly swords and battle axes—and wearing armor that ranged from light boiled leather to heavy plate. Their horns, like Cord's, were high and rounded, with prominent ridges along the sides. Many of them had elaborate decorations on their horns, and helmets designed to display them to best advantage.

The second group appeared to be displaced Krath officers. They were equipped almost exactly like Flail commanders, armored in heavy plate with mail undershirts, and armed with long swords and square shields. They also had the haughty bearing that Roger had come to expect from the Krath.

As it turned out, they were clan leaders from 'lowland' vales, where the influence—and money—of the Krath was strongest. They were heavily raided, so they tended to be unflinching in battle, but they were also ready to negotiate if battle could be avoided.

The last group seemed to be the poorest, and was armed with spears and not much else. Physically, they