Rebels quest, p.4
Rebel's Quest, page 4
part #6 of The Long View Series
His handtalker pinged; from shipside, Jargy Hoad told him that some of Number One's oligarchs were coming to join the session.
"Yeah? Like who?"
"Varied folks. A Harkeen, which I think is a clan title, not the individual name. And somebody from something called the No Name Cooperative, carrying two swords I don't see how anyone could swing, so let's hope they're ceremonial. And a tall gent named Hawkman Moray, from Hulzein Lodge, and—"
Forcing himself, Bran unfroze. "Jargy! Get down here right away, and take over. I'll come up and do your watch. " He cut circuit, gave Moaker and Ingalls quick goodbyes without explanation, and headed for the ship. That was close.
Upship in Control, Bran put an aux screen viewer on the groundside confab. Jargy had it in hand okay. Dammit, why couldn't his family leave him alone? They'd done it before....
As the new delegation, all five of them, joined the group below, Tregare listened to the signal from Jargy's talkset. The No Name fellow, with the absurd swords, was trying to run things. But Hawkman Moray's great height gave him a psychological edge; with a few quiet words he got the session on track, so Commissioner Ingalls could report the new information.
At the end, Hawkman said, "How long since Swing Low was here? Five years?"
"Six, maybe, " said Ingalls. "I can look it up. "
Running through the t/t° calculations, Tregare watched Jargy work his own hand-calc before Hoad said, "The Pizarro had to catch Siting Low not more than two-point-six lightyears out. " He cut through attempted interruptions. "So unless, on the way here, the Pizarro passed another UET ship within talk range, UET has no word of you. The odds are good. And—" Jargy grinned. "Even if they did, it'd be twenty years before UET could get here in any real force. "
"We have to think ahead!" A nasal voice, Alsen Bleeker's. "We need an armed ship, for defense. Why not this one, right here?"
"No, " said Hawkman Moray. "I—I used to know its captain. You won't be hiring that man to sit guard on a mudball. "
Too right, Hawkman! Tregare punched Jargy's beeper and told the man what to say, then listened. "While we're here, you can count on Inconnu's help if you need it. But when we leave, that's up to the captain. "
Bleeker and Big Swords tried to make a fuss. The Commish merely shrugged. Hawkman, looking up at the ship, nodded.
He still knows me. Too bad it can't help.
Next day, wanting to expedite delivery of some supplies, Tregare rented one of Keri Frelings groundcars and drove across One Point One to the Harkeen warehouse complex. He parked near the office entrance, went inside, and found that business face-to-face went faster than over a phone. He dealt with a chubby man, Harkeen by name as well as by affiliation, and soon cleared the paperwork and saw the first consignments loaded and headed for the Port.
So he shook hands, thanked Neyford Harkeen, and went outside. Beside his groundcar stood a tall, bulky young man, scowling and dark-browed. Tregare veered to walk around and past him, but the youth grabbed Bran's arm. "Just a minute, you!"
Tregare restrained his first impulse and made no move. "Yes?"
"Your damned groundcar. That's where I park. "
Three adjacent spaces were empty; Bran couldn't see what the problem was. "There wasn't any sign up. Sorry, " and he waited for this lout to let go of him.
But the left hand came to clench on Tregares jacket while the right, releasing his arm, made a ham-sized fist and drew back. The hell with it—Tregare took two fingers of the grabbing hand in each of his own, stepped back abruptly, and leaned down. A moment he stood, his would-be assailant kneeling and howling; then one more tug put the youths face in the dirt.
When the other got up, Bran saw no intent of further attack. He said, "Maybe you did own a grievance. But you got too quick with your hands. "
"I'll get you for this! I'll see you dead! My family—" The hulking boy spat, but the drops fell short. He turned, cradling the injured hand in the other, and limped away.
From behind Tregare, Neyford Harkeen said, "No idle threat, I'm afraid. Though with due precaution you should be relatively safe from the dal Nardos. "
"Who?" Neyford repeated the name. "They're big around here?"
"On the way to being. Not nice people, I'm afraid. No one says so publicly, but the dal Nardos progress largely by extortion and assassination. "
"And nobody does anything about it?"
Harkeen shrugged. "Some try; they turn up dead, and by coincidence their heirs are named dal Nardo. You see, there's no overall organization here. Oligarchs work independently, and—"
Tregare nodded. "Feudalism. But you could gang up. "
"Or hire outside help. Captain Tregare—"
"No. People have to clean up their own mess. "
"It might be yours, too. If young Stagon complains to his father—"
"He's the honcho?" Harkeen nodded. "Look—you said we got nothing to worry about. Make up your mind!"
Neyford Harkeen waffled. Yes, but. If. Maybe. But still. So they went back inside, and Harkeen put a call through to dal Nardo HQ. When Lestrad dal Nardo came on circuit, Tregare told him what happened outside; carefully, he made sure he had all the details right. Dal Nardo answered, "That's not the way my son reports it. You've made yourself fair game, captain—you and all your people. Guard yourself, if you can. "
Allowing himself no laughter, Tregare said, "Looking at an armed ship and two armed scouts, you say a stupid thing like that? Listen, now—" And he detailed what could happen to any or all dal Nardo holdings if that clan bothered Bran Tregare enough to notice. Adding: "Stomping overgrown kids isn't my line, but that one of yours is bigger than I am, and needs some manners. "
He cut the circuit and turned to Harkeen, who didn't seem to realize his mouth was open. "What you do with people like that, " said Tregare, "you explain why they're not going to mess with you. "
Then he left. Going back to the ship, his car was followed by two larger ones, the armored kind. He guessed he knew whose they were, but all they did was follow. And if Lestrad dal Nardo wanted to look tough, who cared?
* * *
The scout was loaded, with the makings of three prefabs lashed to the outside. Mac and Pete brought a crate of explosives and the gadgetry needed to use the stuff. This time Bran was ferrying a bigger work crew, with Deverel again in charge. And what with the extra huts, Anse Kenekke was also in the group.
At midafternoon Tregare set the scout down in the crater he thought of as Base Two, though his plateau above as yet bore no trace of the projected Base One. Unloading and planning took longer than he expected, especially laying out the fuel tank sites. So instead of flying and landing in dark, Tregare slept over. The scouts bunks were hardly luxurious, but comfortable enough.
Back at Inconnu next morning, Bran got bad news from the Commish: one of Mallory's Drive techs had died in a Port-area bar fight. Tregares first thought was that it could be a dal Nardo move, but Ingalls said the other fighter was a loner, fresh in from hunting bushstompers south of the Slab Jumbles. "Just an ordinary fight, over a woman who wanted no part of either of them. "
So when Ingalls asked if Tregare wanted to add punitive charges to the Ports court docket, Bran shook his head. "My crewman and your hunter, they were both unlucky. " Feeling old and tired, he added, "It's the Port's case; I'm out of it. "
Lestrad dal Nardo might be backed off, but he hadn't quit. Everywhere Bran went in One Point One—arranging for supplies to be loaded in the ship and scouts—he was followed.
Blatantly. After a time he got tired of it. He waited his best chance, though; in the area of small shops and food booths one day, he noticed he had only one bloodhound, a hulking bruiser behaving like the Menace on Tri-V All right. Tregare picked his spot, turned a corner quickly, and stood waiting.
When the man, hurrying to catch up, came around the building's corner to see Bran facing him, he stopped short. "You following me, or going someplace?" "I—going someplace. What'd you think?" "Then go there. Me, I think I'll hang around a while. " No fast thinker, this one. "You can't tell me what to do. " "Wrong. I just did. Move it. " "Let's see you make me move. " The man pulled out a knife, and pointed it—weaving in what he probably thought was a pro stance—at Bran. "I'm staying, smart guy. "
Enough of this crap! As he spoke, Tregare took the knife away and heard elbow ligaments rip loose. Slapping the empty hand up against an exposed corner-beam, he drove the blade through flesh and deeply into wood.
"Yeah. Stay right here. Long as you want. " He walked away, not heeding the man's suddenly-shrill cursing. Bystanders gawked, but no one interfered.
Apparently the lesson took; after that incident, Bran spotted no more followers.
One more time Tregare took the scout across the Hills, to check that his fuel tanks were ready for filling and to have landing circles marked on the craters leveled floor. Those matters seen to, he lifted Inconnu and brought that ship to his developing Base Two. Gonnelson followed in one scout, Jargy Hoad in the other.
In a couple of days the camp shook down into an operative routine; Bran felt the base was coming along well. When the major projects were on track he went upslope in one of the aircars he'd brought along in the ship's starboard scout bay, to have a closer look at his cliffside plateau. Coming in over the lower dropoff he taxied through sparse, grasslike ground cover, almost to the westward-rising cliff. And got out, and walked around.
The place wouldn't need much bulldozing, just some minor leveling of the inevitable talus slope, for building foundations. He stood, maybe fifty meters out from that slope, and looked eastward. Ahead and to his right the ground hummocked a little, but mostly the shelf made a gentle slope. All right— storage buildings close under the cliff, and a headquarters cabin—where to put that? Some of the oligarchs' infighting included bombing from aircars, and the zigzag pass wouldn't be his personal monopoly forever. Turning, he looked up, estimating the angle to the cliffs edge. And laughed. Right where he stood, a car couldn't drop over and land a bomb on him, without slowing enough to be dead meat for ground fire. Some smallish missiles...
He piled loose rocks to mark the spot, and took the aircar back to Base Two.
* * *
With one storage tank complete and secured, Tregare pumped much of Inconnu's fuel into it and took the ship across the Hills for a refill. "I'd like to stock up for half a dozen ships, " he told Jargy when they were back again, "but even watching for price dips, I can't afford it. "
"You shouldn't need to. Any ally who meets rendezvous in shape to join up can probably buy its own. "
"I know, " said Bran. "I just want to make sure. " Jargy cuffed Tregare's shoulder. "You worry too much. " With the walking hoist, MacDougall was pulling the dozer up the side of one scout, to ride outside. When everything was cinched down properly, Bran got the work crew aboard and lifted to the plateau. Gonnelson, with Ola Stannert to talk for him, could handle things for a while at Base Two.
The bulldozing went fast; so did erection of storage buildings, mostly prefab but some timber-framed. Number One's trees, taken from the plateau's south end where cliff eased into a gentler slope, gave good lumber. Using the energy gun from his disabled power suit, clamping it under an improvised chute, Tregare shaped square timbers by having the cut logs pushed through. "And everybody keep your hands on this side, so's you don't lose any. "
He wanted the cabin to be a mini-fortress, so it took longer. Thick walls and roof of solid wood, metal-reinforced. Windows with no ground-level look-in from outside—the one facing uphill looked at blank cliff face. Under the building an escape hole dropped to a tunnel ending in a ravine to the south, and partway along that tunnel was an upward egress to a brushy hummock. "I'll make a pillbox there. Use it to cover the front entrance. "
Jargy shook his head. "To defend against what?"
"I don't know. Anything, I guess. " But after two more supply trips to the crater and one to the Port, Tregare figured his little Base One to be fairly well secured. Especially with the small defense missiles he'd bribed out of Alsen Bleeker's warehouse without that gentleman's knowledge; those were now installed at the plateaus outer edge, ready for hookup.
Some of the small detail was a bother. Time wouldn't allow bringing and burying enough pipe to get sewage wastes off the plateau completely. So, since the place would have to depend on a water table rather near the surface, Tregare settled for building a fancy outhouse and heat-fusing the pit to keep it sealed; three times, he had to recharge the energy gun.
Once the cabins double-plastic windows were in, he took the work crew down to Base Two and began loading the scout with some appliances and fittings he needed, plus a fair amount of food and drink. He was bringing his final load offship—no point in bothering the help with this little stuff— when Leanne Prestor said, "Captain? I'd like to talk with you. "
He turned around to her. "That'd be fine, except right now I have some work to do, upslope. Later, maybe?"
"Why couldn't I go along? And help with the work?"
I don't need any help. But this woman was the only person who had recognized the danger of Stump Farm's paranoid captain and had the initiative to get away; it might not hurt to get to know her better. So Tregare said, "If you can arrange leave off your watch in the next ten minutes, come along. "
"Right. " Sturdy legs pumping, she ran up Inconnu's ramp. Tregare put his gear aboard the scout, went back to collect a few last-minute odds and ends, and returned to find Prestor waiting in the co-pilot's seat. "I'm covered for tonight's watch. If necessary, I can arrange for tomorrows, too. "
Tregare didn't let his brows rise in inquiry. "That's fine. But I expect we'll be back then. " He warmed the scout's Drive and lifted. Flying to the plateau they didn't talk. Bran had some questions, but he figured they could wait.
Once landed, he and Prestor carried supplies and equipment, mostly to the cabin but some to the storage sheds. Then they got to work on the plumbing, so he could start the pump and fill the attic water tank. Next he hooked up to the kitchen facilities, and the folding tub in the bathroom. Prestor made a good helper; she understood instructions, and talked only to the point at hand. She didn't need to know that the tub could pivot to expose the trapdoor leading to his tunnel, so Tregare didn't tell her.
Under the west-rising cliff, sunset came early. Wiping sweat from his forehead, Bran said, "The rest of it can wait; let's call it a day. You getting hungry? I am. "
"Why, yes. " She pushed at the hair over her forehead; her own perspiration made it curlier than usual. "I hope you can cook, though. Even if I knew where things are, here, I'm not very good at it. "
"No problem—there's frozen stew. " He saw she didn't know which way to take the remark, so he said, "You watch, while I figure how this combustion stove works, and learn from my mistakes. " Then she smiled, and wandered around the cabin as though trying to memorize it. There wasn't that much; one entered through the only door, at the right of the front wall, into a room that took up half the building. Its left front corner held a wooden bedframe with two bunk-sized mattresses, and now a pair of rolled-up sleeping bags. The cabins rear half was kitchen and dining nook on the right side, bathroom on the left. Not a lot to keep in mind, but Tregare let her look all she wanted until the stew came to boil; then he gave chow call.
The slab-topped table he'd built himself; the chairs were cheap flimsies from One Point One. The stew was good, and the small cooler he'd brought along worked fast, so they had cold beer, too. When he piled the used utensils into it, the compact dishcleaner also worked. He hoped the water heater wasn't too slow, because a hot bath felt like a good idea.
First, though, seeing through a front window that day had begun to turn to twilight, he said, "Come on outside and see something. " He went out, and she followed.
The way the cliff shadowed the plateau, no sunset was visible now. But looking eastward the two saw sunlight leaving the Big Hills' lower slopes, and shadow chasing that light out across the plain below, before the bright reflection shimmered on the horizon a moment and disappeared. Then, suddenly it seemed a lot darker.
Cooler, too. So indoors Tregare lit up the front room's combustion heater. As the place warmed, he checked at the sink and found the water hot. "Prestor? I haven't found the shower gear yet, but if you want firsts on tub dunks, go ahead. "
He liked the smile she gave him. "Why, thank you. " She entered the bathroom. Looking for something constructive to do, Bran settled for unrolling the sleeping bags and arranging them, each on its own mattress. Then he sat, thinking, for only a brief time until she came out, hair damp and face pink. "It's all yours, captain. "
He took no great time at it, himself. And came out to find
Leanne Prestor lying at the far side of the two sleeping bags she'd zipped together to make only one.
Until now, he'd had no sexual thought. Slowly, he said, "You don't have to—I didn't intend anything. "
Again she smiled. "I did. "
"Why?" Yes. Why me? And why so fast? And was he ready, so soon, to deal again with someone's else's feelings? The physical part, sure. But still...
He waited, and she said, "Because you don't just dither, you do things and you know what you're doing. " Now she frowned a little. "You're dangerous; I know that. But maybe that's part of it—like having a tiger that I know won't hurt me. " Pause, then, "You wouldn't, would you?"
"No. " But—Erdis! "Not on purpose, I wouldn't. " He thought about it. "You got to realize, people don't always have the choice. But if you still—"
"I still. Come on. "
For Tregare it had been a time, so sleep had to wait until they'd had "seconds, " and next morning saw more activity before they arose.
The only eggs were freeze-dried; Bran served them scrambled. Along with toast and juice and coffee, he figured it made a damn good breakfast. Down to coffee, Leanne said, "I should tell it straight. Onship I'd like to move in with you, but I don't have to. "
This one talks up fast. "You're ahead of me. Spell it. "
She pouted cute, but Tregare waited for the words. "We're good here. On the ship, though... "
