"Victory is but a few years away! Months! The rebels are starving! Their worlds are burnt and blasted rubble heaps! Starving beggars crawling through the ashes, gnawing on rats!"

  "Done with the coney? Would you like some ice fruit for desert? They have a tasty assortment of frozen sweets here. There are frozen sorts of flavored cream, or yogurt, or whey, or cheeses, all made from ice milk. Make your tongue leap for joy right out of your head!

  "Or do ye thirst instead?" the old man continued. "They have eighty-three brands of beer and ale for sale here. How many do they have in the Empire?"

  Flint grimaced. "One. Patrol Issue Standard Serving Beer. We call it Pissbeer."

  "How many flavors of ice cream? There are thirty-nine in this pub alone."

  Flint did not answer the question.

  There was no ice cream in the Empire.

  3. The Serving Maid’s Testament

  Flint was not a man given to exaggerated display. He felt a moment of shame for having raised his voice. Sullenly, he took the knife from the table and laid it next to his empty plate. When the barmaid came over to take the plate away, Flint spoke to her.

  "Miss. Do you know a man named Raphean Lone?"

  She snorted and tilted her head and grinned. "Sure! Comes by to sing below my window pane. He is randy and raring for my sweetness. You will have to shake a leg if you want to beat his time. I can schedule you in for next emerald-noon watch. But I cannot be seen cavorting with a one-eyed man. I think there is a one-hour no-waiting place in Sleepless Town where you can get fixed up, but another place in Leaping Village that does blue eyes, if you want a color change. I eat the most expensive deep-sea lobster you can afford and love to dance the high-step and the tarantella. How are your legs? Most offworlders cannot keep up with Berenice girls."

  Flint felt his ears burning, and was glad his skin was too dark to show a blush. He held up the gold coin which showed the profile of Duke Lone. "Miss, I am a stranger here and I require your aid. I will give you this coin if you tell me whose face is on it, and whether he is alive."

  The barmaid looked at Jaywind. "Is your pal right in the head?"

  Jaywind shrugged. "He's done a lot of walking around under all these suns, he has. I wager all the sight of the pretty girls of Coma Berenices makes him woozy, just a bit."

  "Aren't you the silver-tongued one, then? Such cheek! And you my grandpa's age."

  "Older and wiser than him. Now, be nice to the paying customer. He is not used to free people speaking so freely."

  She looked back to Flint. "No trick?"

  Flint said, "No trick."

  "Hand me the coin first, then!"

  Flint put it in her palm.

  The girl laughed, flicking the coin in the air with her thumb and catching it, then tucking it into her cleavage. "Easiest money I ever made! Yes, this is Raphean Lone, galactic hero, killed some big bad guy in a big black cloak back in the day, like a space warlock or something, freed the galaxy, and he wrote the constitution and served as First Consul. And they wanted to make him king, but he said no."

  Jaywind said, "He did not write the constitution. That was mostly Buckles and Uru, with some help from Artaxerxes."

  The barmaid nodded to Jaywind. "Whatever. He did everything but that. Sure, he is alive. I saw on the newsflash that Mirko the Weasel from the Scrutiny channel, when the Duke went to give a speech at some school, he was chasing him around after, trying to get him to talk about his son, the drunk one. Ozimander? Ozonous? Something like that. Then his pet saber-toothed gorilla scared him off. I love watching Mirko. Mirko has a nose for news. But I like the gorilla better. He has the prettiest eyes. Knocked Mirko on his tail. He kind of deserved it."

  Jaywind said, "You're thinking of Napoleon Lone. Ozymandias Lone sadly passed away a few years ago, and his spirit is among the stars now, where all is light."

  The barmaid pouted. She said to Flint. "I did not have to guess the son's name, right? Knowing the First Consul was enough? Anyway, yes, he is alive. Last I saw."

  Flint watched as the barmaid swept the dirty dish and utensils from the table, but instead of taking them away for cleaning, she tossed them in a trashbasket, where they dissolved into colored smoke. She pulled new tableware out of a metal formulator, and set them on the window sill to cool.

  Not even the highest-ranking officer Flint knew owned a private formulator.

  This was one more casual display of wealth and ease. Here, it was easier to make new dishes than to clean them.

  4. Setting a False Life True

  Flint turned to the Grandmaster. "Is it all a lie? Everything I know? My life? I cannot believe it. I will not let myself believe. Raphean Lone was the son of a betrayer, Lord Doomshadow. He was slain, and it was righteous and just. I am of the Empire. We are men of honor. We uphold the law. We bring order."

  "Would you like to go tell Duke Rafe he is dead? I'm sure he'll be surprised."

  "He is dead. He must be."

  "I'll take you."

  "Take me? To where?"

  "To a house where honor truly lives. Rafe is older now, and he spends his time breeding horses and tending grape arbors. He is retired from politics and chasing pirates. He sends his sons. Want to meet him? You can look him in the eye."

  "You know him? Wait. Of course you know him. You helped him assassinate the Emperor."

  "Lord Doomshadow killed the Emperor. And it was a fair fight. Duke Lone killed Lord War. Also a fair fight. Yes, I know him. Am I not a high-pockets toff and a grand swell, famous as fame can be? But here I sit, beer in hand, with nary a Weasel-man with a news lens chasing me."

  "If Raphean Lone is alive, the Greatest Empire is all false. My life is false. How do I make it true again?"

  Jay smiled. He stood up slowly, girded on his sword, and took his staff in hand. His other hand he held out to Flint.

  All he said was: "Come, and see."

  Chapter 8: The Planet of Dreadful Night

  Galactic Year 12821, Noctua System, Aboard the Fame's Fancy

  1. Gunpoint Diplomacy

  Athos, wearing his space armor, helmet down, with Captain Vulk behind him, swam through the curving corridors of the Fame's Fancy escorted by a trio of beauties. The water-women were lithe, buxom, nubile, their shapely limbs in supple motion, dainty feet twinkling, long hair like soft clouds billowing behind. Through the transparent walls, the crew-women of the giant treasure barge swam and danced and dallied amid rippling fronds and jewel-bright coral reefs adorning the curving spiral and oval chambers of the control deck.

  Because his escorts had feet, and had not assumed their water-going shape, Athos was not surprised when they left waterbreathing environs and entered airbreathing. He was surprised when he emerged from the surface of an ornamental pond and waded to shore, for the chamber was unlike any shipboard cabin he knew. The pond was in the center of a smooth-sided, candle-lit chamber whose deck was hidden beneath the golden sands of an ornamental rock garden.

  Temple maidens in tales of old were said to have tended such gardens where nothing grew, but the placement of the craggy rocks, their solemn moss, and the prayers of the maidens, gathered Kirlian energies of calmness and repose. This rock garden, if anything, was a mocking reverse of that. All the rocks were of smooth marble segments, suggestive of the hips and curves and proportions of luscious beauties, without any particular shape being too blatant. Flickering candle shadows caressed the shapely undulations.

  Athos was further surprised to see two cat-women, half-Nemean and half-Hominid like himself, draped in languid poses atop the smooth rocks to one side of the chamber, regarding him with heavy-lidded, gold eyes. They wore skintight black wetsuits, which hid none of their voluptuous, feline bodies, with air-collars tightly necklaced around their lovely throats. Their facial features were uncannily alike: full-lipped, fine-boned, with nicely arched eyebrows. Low slung about their curving hips were golden gunbelts.

  Between these two, in the cleavage of two smoothly rounded stones, on a pillow of satin, lounged an Ellyll, wearing pearl strands entwined throughout the elaborate coiffure of combs and braids upholding her golden hair. Other pearls cinched her waist and entwined throat, elbows and wristbands. Her skin was so fair and flawless that it seemed to glow. She was in her seagoing form, legs merged to form a shining fish-tail of yellow-orange. Tremors of shimmering light ran down the curves of her hips and flanks. She raised her eyes from the silver mirror in her hand, and put down her pearl combs.

  In an exquisite motion, she raised her shapely hands and arms, lucent as branching coral, in a gesture of welcome. "Captain Rackstraw, I presume? We are honored by your parley, and surprised at your innocence. You come unescorted by armed men?"

  Athos said, "It is Commodore, ma'am. This ship is mine, and her crew is competent to see to my protection. You are Captain Clytemnestra?"

  She sat up into a kneeling posture, tail folded beneath her, shapely rump above her flukes. "I am she." Her voice was as soft and clear as honey, and the cadence and chime of her throat, more chant than speech, raised a thrill of goosebumps up Athos' spine.

  Athos subtly increased the oxygen gain in his helmet, but lowered the temperature, so that an icy blast of air sharply ran into his nose. The woman was more attractive even than the two cat-girls to either side of her. Athos wondered how this captain had deduced his genetic background so quickly, or what advantage she might hope to gain by the display of Nemean women toward him. Perhaps it was a taunt? He could not guess the beautiful Captain's motives. Her race was strange to him. As a midshipman or patrolman, he had never met any Ellyll.

  Ellyll history was a tragic one. In generations past, they had been exploited and enslaved by hive-minded Scolopendra insectoids, and, in a later age, by the warlike Devonian gill-men. The remembered brutality of those years had rendered the sea maidens more secretive and wary of strangers than even the Batrachians.

  Ironically, the Empire, as it descended into tyranny, sought to undermine the strength of the Devonians, and freed their vassals. During the war, the Ellyll worlds remained aloof, or aided the Empire. Like the Odobenine, few of their inner sector worlds now recognized the Constitutional government, and not one of their frontier colonies. They were a coy and subtle race, equal in wit to the Vulpino, but vicious in the way only those scarred by generations of iniquity can be.

  Clytemnestra tilted her head and favored him with a soft smile. "A somewhat old-fashioned title, Commodore. It comes from the days when Jade was Queen of Pirates."

  Athos, baffled, tried to remember what he'd planned to say. He was glad his faceplate was polarized, and his expression could not be read.

  Nonetheless, Clytemnestra must have read something into his hesitation, for she laughed a throaty laugh, fair and clear as bells of silver. "The Old Code forbade smiting an enemy during parley — but Jade is not here to enforce it, nor her men. Where is she now? Married some Duke or another for his gelt, and long gone. She has her prize. What of mine?"

  Athos found his thoughts. "Mutual destruction is prize for neither of us, Captain. We would both be now dead, had either wished. Pyrrhic victory is a bitter prize. A vow of fealty is a richer one. Let us discuss terms. I will give you a larger cut than Ahab does."

  "And arm us with better black tech? Armor and armaments? Killer robots? Unlikely. I have not heard of any dark planets like Noctua and Rana rattling in your pockets. Indeed, Mr. Black Jack Rackstraw, Outlaw of the Siren Sector. I come from the Siren Sector. I have not heard of you at all."

  Athos was aghast she knew the name and background Yeho had so hastily invented. It seemed like witchcraft to have learned so much in the time between his surprise attack and now. It had been only minutes, the time needed to traverse a few corridors. Who had told her? He was again glad his faceplate hid his face. "Shall we resume the duel, as according to the Code? You lost too many crew already. I will have to supply you from my own after each defeat."

  "Duel? As soon as the solar flare passes, a radio message will reach the nearest warship."

  "You invited us under the white flag. It is sacred!"

  "Sacred? Yet another old word, with no meaning in these harsh days!" Her musical voice now hit an impure note when she said this, and her tone grew shrill. "I must do as I must!"

  "I am master here!" interrupted Athos harshly. "By blood spilled, I have proved it so, Captain! I will tell you what you must do. Do not teach me not to trust you, lest I place no faith in your oath of fealty."

  "Fealty! Aha! Another old fashioned word. Very romantic of you to heed this code, this old code, and expect it to be honored. But what do Sirens know of honor? Simpler to betray you now, as you betrayed me, feed you to my ichthyosaurs, and be done with it."

  The catgirls grinned mirthless grins, and drew their blaster pistols.

  Athos made no move toward the lance pistols, blaster, dirk or tomahawk at his belt, but stood with his arms crossed. The threat, delivered in such silky tones, did not seem real to him. It was a bluff.

  Nor did she give the order to fire. Instead, Clytemnestra tilted her head toward Captain Vulk. "Amalric! You greeted my ample, bountiful offer of aid to a ship in distress with cheating deception! You are naughty, aren't you? Is this man truly your Commodore?"

  Vulk was unbefuddled by Ellyll charms. It was likely that he had long ago grown accustomed to them. It was also likely that his hominid eyes were half-blind in the dim candle-light. He had left his visor up, so that his saber-toothed grin could appear when he crinkled the furry flesh of his overlong muzzle.

  The grin showed now. "He is. A bold rogue, he! I became his man to see if he could fill his boast — and fill my coffers, so to keep my boys happy. You've seen my boys in action, Captain, have you not? My swordfish? Each scalawag has a blade for a nose, a snickersnee he can never sheathe nor drop nor put aside. There is no word for peace in their language, only truce. If I had your pretty head, I would ponder precisely where your hope of gain might hide, and which channel leads to brighter futures, bright with gold. Because the other channel leads to the sword."

  She said, "But Commodore? It is a word Ahab has outlawed. All captains answer to him."

  Vulk said, "My purse, I sleep with it under my pillow. Sad purse! Flatter than once it was! It whispers to me at night. Guess what it says? When Jade was Queen, thick and full was I! Thick and full — I wager me your purse says the same, fair dame."

  "What will Ahab say?"

  "Riddle me this, my lusty girl. Which words pull more? Those from a damnable Frog mouth, or from the an-hungered mouth of my sweet purse?"

  She said, "Clever Amalric! Brave Amalric! I hold nothing against you for your trick! No, I gaze with admiration, nay, I gasp with wonder! Let such nature rise again! Set it free!" She dropped her voice an octave, and the smooth music of her words sang with soft allure. "Combine with me against the Commodore, behead him, send his head to Ahab in a box, and go half and half with whatever he's got in his hold. I give you a double share of the prize money for Liska's ship!"

  Vulk threw back his head and laughed. "You know Jade, the Pirate Queen? Everyone knows her! She toppled the Empire. Had help from a robot and a shaggy man and such, but mostly her doing."

  Athos smiled inwardly to hear his mother's name still remembered, but wondered why his father's name was forgotten.

  Vulk said, "Commodore Rackstraw is new to me, and they call him Blackjack, maybe because he strikes hard, and maybe because he gambles high. Nemeans, ain't they? Half-breeds? Friendly as human and fierce as cats?" He rolled an insolent eye across the two catwomen. "Good pick! I had two bodyguard, same as you, weapons drawn, same as them. My boss Blackjack, he can draw and shoot and drill them both, clean his guns and take a smoke before you can draw breath to scream. I seen him."

  Clytemnestra said, "Then you will not help me? We were shipmates, once! Messmates!"

  "Mating seasons is over, my little doxy! But I say it is Ahab what has been rutting you, and all of us. Him and his Red Roger! What was wrong with the old flag? Share and share alike he says, all of us equal he says, no more bosses, he says. And he says and says and says, and no man to speak a peep otherwise, and takes all the shares for his share. You better off under him? More loot? I am old enough to remember Queen Jade. She crashed the Empire, and we picked through the wreckage, planets of gold for the taking! I remember the Black Flag, the Jolly Roger, and recall when the free companies was free!"

  Clytemnestra turned her lustrous eyes toward Athos. "Have you promised him so much?"

  Athos did not recall saying half those things, but something he had said must have struck a chord in Vulk, so Athos nodded curtly. "Aye, I did."

  "And can you perform?"

  "Join me," intoned Athos, "and you will be alive to see it. Ahab might hold out longer, but is he so much better a corsair than either of you? I think he is less. Pirates are free. We fear no law. The galaxy is an oyster, waiting for us to crack the shell, take the pearl, sup the flesh. Under me, I will protect you, leave you to mind your own doings, helping when asked, and taking my cut. Did Ahab offer so much?"

  "He promised us the Walrus world. The whole sector!"

  "Where is the fleet of ten thousand times ten thousand barges to haul off a whole sector's worth of the wealth? He is promising you war, endless war. I have bigger plans. Better."

  "What plans? Tell me."

  "Not yet. You trust me — or you kill me and my First Mate takes over, kills you."

  "Your First Mate is Tisquantum? The savage one they call the Wrath of God?"

  Again, Athos was shocked she had found this out so quickly. But he grunted. "He is."

  "I will sign your articles, my Captain, and be your vassal."

  And so she raised her hand and told her girls to put their guns away.

  Athos took another cold breath of oxygen, bewildered but glad at how abruptly the crisis was past. The Ellyll captain was apparently a woman of swift decision.

 

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