Freehold (9 page)
As the black-haired man rose and took the dais, Stell's heart sank. If a sufficient number of Senators signed the petition, there was little doubt the Emperor would carry out their wishes. Then the brigade would have to withdraw, or challenge the might of the entire empire. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, on behalf of President Kasten, I would ask that you hear one more speaker. While he has no official status on our planet, Colonel Stell commands the army in question, and his comments will no doubt be relevant. I might add that Colonel Stell has agreed to answer any and all question you may have at the conclusion of his remarks. Are there any objections?”
All heads turned towards Roop. He smiled and shook his head. “I have no objection ... and I look forward to asking the Colonel some questions about the cost of his services.”
The black-haired man said, “That being the case, it is my pleasure to introduce Colonel Mark Stell. Colonel?”
Stell made his way up to the dais. As he looked out at the blur of strange faces, it seemed hopeless. All he saw was suspicion and hostility. Then there was movement in the back of the room as a massive door opened and closed. For the briefest moment, his eyes met Olivia Kasten's, and her smile of encouragement sent a wave of confidence through him. Looking out again, he forced a smile and said, “Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, on behalf of myself and my brigade, I greet you. I wish the occasion of my visit to your planet were more pleasant. Unfortunately, these are difficult times. As you know, life isn't easy on a frontier planet. If it were, the Emperor would live out here, instead of on Earth!” Stell's joke served to break the ice a little, reaping scattered chuckles and at least one “You can say that again!”
“But even though frontier life is hard, you've suffered more than most. Again and again the pirates have attacked. Again and again you have fought back, but to no avail. Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for honesty.” Stell paused, allowing his eyes to roam the audience. Did he see glimmers of sympathy here and there? “You and I both know why they continue to attack. It can be summed up in one word: thermium. And if you're not familiar with its recently coined name, I suspect you still know what I'm referring to.”
There was a moment of shocked silence, followed by consternation, confused babble, and then cries for quiet mixed with demands for Stell's arrest. Holding up his hands to still the noise, Stell said, “Hear me out.”
Again all eyes turned to Roop, who shrugged and smiled a crooked smile. “Let him speak, he's making my case better than I could.” There was nervous laughter as many nodded in agreement. The black-haired man, who had risen to point out that Stell still had the floor in any case, took his seat.
As the noise died down, Stell did his best to smile and appear relaxed, while inside every nerve was stretched wire tight. “Yes, I know about the mineral you filter out of your great rivers,” he said gesturing to the living mural behind him. “I know it's heat resistant beyond any similar material known to man. I know it's the crucial ingredient in the exotic ceramic products for which you are justly famous. And, ladies and gentlemen, if I know, then you can be sure the pirates and Intersystems Incorporated know, too!”
This time the room was completely silent as Stell's words struck home, each Senator privately admitting what he or she had known all along. “I don't blame you for keeping thermium a secret for as long as you could,” Stell said quietly. “In your place, I would have done the same. Why ask for trouble? But the time for secrecy is long past. I learned of thermium through the routine intelligence appraisal we always do before accepting a client. Somehow, the pirates learned about thermium too, and so did Intersystems. You've got it and they want it; it's as simple as that.”
“And what about you, Colonel?” a Senator yelled, looking to Roop for approval. “Don't you want it, too?”
The black-haired man rose to object, but Stell held up a restraining hand. “A fair question Senator, and one which I'll happily answer. Not with a simple ‘no’ that you wouldn't believe anyway, but with a proposal—one which should not only put your fears to rest, but will also enable you to fight off the pirates ... and make your next payment on time.” Stell saw that he now had their full attention. “We do want something from you,” he said earnestly. “But it isn't your wealth. When I landed this morning, I gave President Kasten a sealed container and asked him to hold it until now. Inside, he'll find applications for full Freeholdian citizenship from every member of my brigade.” Suddenly, the entire room broke into excited conversation, forcing the black-haired man to call repeatedly for order. When all was quiet once again, Stell said, “So you see, we don't want anything which isn't ours. All we want is a chance. A chance to earn a place among you, a chance to have a home. In return, we offer our services
for free,
just as members of your Civil Defense Force already do—just as any loyal citizen would do if their planet were attacked. I submit, by the way, that as citizens of Freehold, Senator Roop's petition would become a moot point.”
The room exploded into excited conversation. Looking out at the sea of faces, Stell saw everything from amusement to rage. Oliver Kasten beamed his approval, Olivia smiled her encouragement, and Roop was livid. Eventually, the black-haired man managed to restore order. Although Stell knew he still had the floor, he said calmly, “I believe Senator Roop has a question.”
“How kind of Colonel Stell to allow me to speak,” Roop said sarcastically as he stood and scanned the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it from his own lips. First he planted spies among us to learn our secrets, and now he's using the information thus gained to blackmail us into granting citizenship for his entire brigade! After all, why steal the planet if you can take it without firing a shot?” Roop's hard eyes moved from person to person, challenging each to object. “So, before Stell insults our intelligence further, I move his absurd request for mass citizenship be unanimously denied, that any consideration of using his services be tabled, and that he be escorted off the planet immediately.” With a look of smug satisfaction, Roop took his seat to mixed applause and objections.
The black-haired man rose and said, “As Senator Roop knows, Colonel Stell still has the floor, and while he does, no vote can be taken. Colonel Stell?”
Stell looked out at the audience and wondered what to do.
Roop had the advantage. He was used to dueling with words, and the battle was taking place on his home ground. Maybe it was stupid to try. After all, in spite of its potential wealth, Freehold wasn't much of a planet ... and maybe they could do better. But he couldn't dismiss Kasten's hopeful look, Olivia's smile, or his own emotions. If there was a chance for the brigade to earn a home—a place where they could belong—and a future, then it was worth fighting for.
“May I speak?” The voice came from the darkness at the back of the room. Stalling for time, Stell nodded his consent. “Senator Elwar Bram has the floor,” the black-haired man said, as a short, stocky man stepped out into the light. He brought with him a sense of physical vitality and power. He was not handsome, yet women had always flocked to him because of the gentle strength of his eyes and hands. His rugged, sun-darkened features made a proper setting for bright blue eyes that shone with anger. He spoke with an intensity born of deep feeling. “What the hell's going on here? Have you all gone crazy?” Senator Bram's eyes swept the chambers. “We're fighting for our lives and losing. My brother and his family are dead. Each of you have lost someone or something. Yet some of you are ready to give them more. Well I'm not. For me it's gone beyond politics. Today I speak to you not as an independent, but as a man. A man who is pissed off and tired of losing. And what's this crap about not accepting any help?” He pointed to Stell. “This man has offered to fight beside us for the right to live here, to make Freehold his home. I say we accept his offer, and damned quick. And if he and his people profit from living here, then so much the better; there's enough sand, hard work, and pain here for everyone. As for Intersystems ... hell, they'd piss on your boots and tell you it was raining.” He paused grimly, “I vote for Colonel Stell's proposal, for fighting back, and for self-respect!”
Two-thirds of those in the room stood, their applause reverberating off the durasteel-reinforced walls, filling the chamber with a thunder of sound. Bram's speech had swung the Independents to Kasten's side, and the first battle was won. Stell felt himself grinning like an idiot. The brigade had a home.
As Freehold's sun sank toward the distant horizon, Stell sat perfectly still, afraid his slightest movement might destroy the magic of the moment. The sky was painted orange and gold. A warm, gentle breeze wafted in from the distant desert and skipped gently over the lake, rippling its surface, and pushing tiny wavelets toward shore to slosh softly at his feet. Across the lake, the fading light washed the villa with orange and gold, making it look like a castle from some ancient painting. Around him insects hummed, and nocturnal predators emerged to eat them, their luminescent wings glowing as they flitted from perch to perch. It seemed like a fairyland, an enchanted place where the heat, grit, and hardship of the planet's badlands were kept out by some magic spell—a spell so fragile it would be broken if he so much as breathed. Knowing he could eventually come to a place like this would make months of hard work in the desert seem worthwhile. And suddenly the dream was gone, as he remembered all the work that remained undone, and all those who depended on him to do it. But he forced himself to shake it off for just these few hours. Surely he was entitled to that?
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Olivia asked, appearing by his side. “Are you glad you came?”
“Yes,” he answered looking up into her eyes, “it is beautiful, and I am glad that I came.”
She smiled at the compliment as she set the tray of fruit and cold meat on a low table between two chairs. Then she paused for a moment to look out over the water, the scent of her perfume drifting around him. Right then he wanted her more than any woman he'd ever met. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment was gone and they sat down to eat. They ate in a companionable silence, savoring not only the food, but each other, and the natural beauty surrounding them.
Later they went for a walk through the villa's gardens. They had been designed and tended by Olivia's mother and, since her death, by Olivia. This was no garden of formal squares and circles, but a more subtle place, where flower and shrub were placed so artfully that everything seemed to flow together, yet did so within a larger purpose. Occasionally, Olivia would pause to point out some feature of particular interest, and would make a face and laugh when he refused to look, keeping his eyes on her instead. And as they walked it felt good to take her hand in his, to feel her shoulder brush his arm, to hear the soft murmur of her voice.
When they mounted the villa's wide, sweeping veranda to watch the sun's final moments, it seemed very natural to put an arm around her waist. And when she turned to look into his eyes, it seemed equally natural to meet her lips with his, and to lose himself in the soft warmth of her arms. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they turned and entered the villa, leaving the darkness behind. But far out in the gathering blackness a shooting star burned bright as it entered Freehold's atmosphere and fell toward the surface of the planet.
The meteor flared brightly on Com Tech Chu's screen. She frowned in annoyance, flicked shiny black hair back from her face, and watched the screen as her fingers tapped out a quick rhythm on the keyboard. The fragrant cup of blue New Indian tea by her side sat momentarily forgotten. High above the No-Hole tracking station where she worked, a ragged network of satellites responded to her commands—tracking, probing, and measuring the meteorite as it fell. Chu placed an ancient Chinese curse on the pirates who had routinely destroyed a good part of the network each time they staged a raid. Satellites were expensive ... and Freehold just couldn't afford to replace them fast enough. But how was she supposed to do her job with only half a network? She'd complained bitterly more than once, but it didn't do any good. She relaxed as reassuring data flooded her screen. It was just another rock falling from the sky. For some reason there'd been a lot of them lately, but the rock showed no signs of propulsion, weapons, unusual radiation or life, so no sweat. A quick check revealed no danger of a hit on a settlement, so she turned her attention back to her tea, and swore when she found it was cold.
Inside the meteorite, Quarter Sept Commander Feeg watched his instruments carefully, grunting in satisfaction when the probing beams were withdrawn. He wasn't surprised. After all, his ship was very small, barely large enough to hold him, and carefully screened. That, and the pathetic condition of the planet's satellite network, plus the incompetence of the humans, had already allowed more than two hundred members of the elite Sand Sept to land using the same ruse. As the disguised assault boat continued its downward plunge, friction caused the rock sprayed on its surface to glow, and heat began to build inside the tiny craft. But even when the interior reached a hundred degrees, it was still a bit chilly by Il Ronnian standards, and Feeg wished he'd thought to wear a heat suit. Still, from what he'd heard during his briefing, the surface was quite warm, and that, combined with the substance called thermium, accounted for Il Ronnian interest in the planet.
As Freehold's surface rose to meet him, Feeg returned his attention to the controls. While the on-board computer handled most of it, planetary atmospheres could be tricky, often requiring the intervention of a skilled pilot, just one of Feeg's many qualifications. His sharp talons flicked in and out of the small indentations in the keyboard, firing his control jets, and smoothing out his glide path. With the added weight of the disguise, the little ship not only looked like a rock ... it flew like one, too. Just seconds prior to touchdown, a double line of infrared landing lights popped into existence on his nav screen. He lined up the small ship between them and put it down with a gentle thump. As his landing gear touched the hard-packed sand, the lights disappeared. Even if there had been a satellite looking that way at that precise moment, the brief flare of infrared against the background of warm sand wouldn't have excited notice.
