son, and that's a fact. Thanks, dear." This last was addressed to his wife as she handed him a lunch tray.
She knelt beside him. "Can you tell us what's been happening?"
"Sure. Mount Glass decided to go along with New Venus, just like I thought they would. Made an offer to the Frenn, minerals and gems from their mines in exchange for some wares the Frenn can obtain. To do that they had to declare independence and, what's the word, nationalize the mines. That's been coming for quite some time, you know. There's plenty of precedent all through history. The American Revolution, for instance." He started on his food.
"What about Sandville?"
"We decided to go along with them, as I hoped we might. We ourselves don't have much to trade, but Mount Glass gets most of its food from us; they agreed to give us shares in the whole operation. We thought it sounded too good to pass up."
"It does sound good."
"I was out getting coffee at Joe's for everybody, but the Company knows I was there. I imagine they'll come after me." He looked sadly at Maya. "Ben Turner was there too, darling. I'm sorry to have to tell you."
Maya's fist flew to her mouth. She stared at him, eyes wide. "My dad? They arrested him?"
Mr. Harbinson nodded. "I'm afraid they did."
"What will happen to him?"
"Three to six months confinement is what they're saying. It's not so bad. Folks will rally around you and your mom, I bet. That's six months for the rank and file, mind you, not the ringleader," he added, looking at his wife.
"They consider you the ringleader, Edgar?" Carla asked softly.
"Afraid so. I honestly don't know what happens next."
"Oh dear God!"
"We didn't see it coming. I guess we were fools. But those mines are small stuff compared with the harvest of biologicals from the New Venus oceans every year. When Groundport offered to bargain with the Frenn, we figured the time was right."
"For them it probably is. The Company has declared martial law there, Edgar."
"I heard. Can't say I'm surprised. You know, the only habitable spot on that whole globe might be the south polar region, but at least you can survive outdoors without breathing gear if you can take the heat. They're afraid guerilla bands will hide out in the islands. Which is what will happen, there's precedent for that through history, too."
"I suppose so."
"The company's in over their heads, the fools! Even if they take Skyport, there's no way they can hold New Venus."
"Doesn't do us much good, does it?" asked Carla.
"Guess not. The New Venusians will aid us when they can, but in the meantime the Company can sure put the screws to us on New Mars. Which they've already started to do." He sighed heavily. "We ought to have known."
They sat for a time in miserable silence.
A sudden booming blow against the door above them shattered the quiet, followed, moments later, by the sound of the airlock compressor.
"That was a damn good lock," said Edgar softly. "You make them reimburse you, Carla, you hear?"
"I wish we had a gun," she whispered back savagely.
"Yeah, guess you were right about that one." Edgar Harbinson rose unsteadily to his feet, squared his shoulders, and faced the foyer shaft.
Someone kicked the trapdoor aside and leapt down to face them, disdaining the ladder rungs—a black-suited company cop in a gleaming black breath helmet. Its visor was darkened, obscuring his face.
A second cop landed behind him, similarly helmeted. They cradled Remington riot guns in their arms. They fanned left and right, and then froze, falling into battle stance as if the Harbinson's homey tunnels were hostile ground.
A third man climbed down the ladder, movements leisurely to the point of exaggeration. He turned with an insolent swagger to face them.
It was Maya's uncle, Lieutenant Charles Bascomb. His helmet dangled carelessly from his hand. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp black Company Police uniform—he had apparently shed his outdoors suit in the airlock—and his eyes were hard and mean, glinting with ill humor. The cruel bastard was enjoying himself. Maya loathed him.
"Well, well, well... What have we here?"
"I guess you know," said Edgar.
"Looks like George Washington. The father of his country! Or someone just as long and tall and plain damn ugly, with the same pitiful long white hair. You think they're gonna put your face on paper money, you old crook?"
Maya rose to her feet. "You leave him alone!" Her voice shook with anger. "If you've got a job to do, you do it by the book. Don't be such an asshole, taking liberties to bully people. My Mom won't like it."
"Aw, screw your Mom." Uncle Charlie spat on the floor. "And screw you too, you little bitch. I've never liked you."
"The feeling is oh-so-mutual!"
"I don't need to listen to your shit! You don't want to interfere with me carrying out my official duties."
"You're wrong." She took a step toward him. "That's just what I want to do!"
"Think so?" His eyes flicked toward the cop on his right. "Ames. Stun her."
The security officer drew a stunner from his belt and fired. At point-blank range he could scarcely miss—Maya fell into a pool of swirling darkness.
The last thing she heard was Jason saying, almost conversationally, "Somebody ought to push the panic button."
— — —
Here's an excerpt from "Holy Warfare", which also appears, in its entirety, in Incident on Sugar Sand Road and other stories.
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A pounding explosion shattered the pale jade sky.
The patrons of Old Nick's restaurant reacted predictably. They screamed, cursed or shouted. Some of them leapt up, knocking over tables and chairs. In the kitchen, a stack of dishes crashed against the floor. Confusion warred with pandemonium, which looked to be the winner.
Merwin Marrison, Duke of the High Reach of Avernus, sprang to his feet. He was out the door before he knew what was happening. His heart hammered in his chest; his pulse pounded in synch.
Old Nick's place was in a pillar tree. Its rooms were carved chambers in the tree's upper trunk, the varnished furniture all of the same reddish wood, the floors paved with yellow stone. Plank balconies surrounded it on two levels, supported by webworks of steel cables. On the upper balcony, Merwin shouldered his way through the crowd.
Here, too, furniture had been overturned, drinks spilled, dinners ruined. People babbled excitedly, gesturing toward the south-southern quadrant of the sky.
Merwin moved in that direction, stopping when he reached the rail. In the distance, on the jagged mountainous horizon beyond the Floating Plain, a column of fading light bloomed in a vast bright stalk.
He stared for a time, not able to credit what he was seeing. That deep diamond-blue color was unmistakable.
"An off-world weapon! Eh, milord Duke?" spoke a quiet voice at his elbow.
He turned to regard Old Nick sourly. "You know better than to call me that."
Nick favored him with a sad, gentle smile. He was old and stooped, tough and stringy with bad posture, his skin dark and wrinkled like old leather; his hair was a bristling white.
"Sorry, my friend. Come up to my office, would you?"
"Now? Why?"
"Let's just get you out of sight, shall we?" Nick kept his voice low.
Merwin saw what he meant, and a bleak wind blew through his heart. All the old arguments, all the anger he'd thought laid to rest, came rushing back in a torrent.
He followed Nick to an unmarked door in the tree-trunk. The old man unlocked it and motioned for Merwin to enter. Behind was a stairway leading to his host's private quarters.
Nick's office had a large picture window. Through it Merwin saw what was now a column of swirling smoke. "What's out there, Nick? You should know if anyone does."
Nick gazed at the horizon. "Nothing but wilderness. That's too far south to be human territory."
"It's still in the habitable zone."
"That's true. There are valleys up there where people could live. If anyone wanted to settle there. I doubt the serpents would mind, but the government would sure raise a stink."
"Why would anybody bomb a wild mountainside?"
"No telling. Those mountains are property of the serpents, you know. Even if they don't use them."
"They live in the sea!"
"They spawn in certain rivers. And except for Charon District that whole continent is theirs."
"You're not saying the bomb was theirs?"
"Of course not. They don't have disruptor bombs. And the Planetary Defense Force doesn't have that kind of firepower either, my friend. That's why I said an off-world weapon."
"Off-worlders."
"It was a d-bomb, Merwin. You saw."
"Exploding in the wilderness." Merwin sighed. "I have no knowledge of it."
"I didn't say you did."
"There are those who will say so. You know they will." Merwin moved away from the window and plopped down onto a couch. He felt weary. "I don't need this."
"I'm in a similar fix. Want a beer?"
"That I do need."
Nick handed it to him, and then sat down across from him with a beer of his own.
"One of the Galactic powers," said Merwin.
"The Fleet, the Order, or the Empire. Take your pick."
"Maybe the Rim Alliance?"
Nick barked a laugh. "You know better. The Alliance is farther away from us than Old Earth. It would make as much sense to accuse the Border Union."
"I suppose you're right." Merwin frowned. "But it isn't the Empire. I'd know if it was them. Wouldn't I?"
Nick shrugged.
"If there were an Imperial presence here on Avernus it would be me. What a joke! I never wanted anything to do with such a farce."
"Your father did hold the title."
"Which I've renounced."
"Which you've chosen to ignore."
"I have renounced it."
"Formally? Did you ever address a communiqué to Her Majesty?"
"Didn't see the point. Never have gotten around to it."
"You were short-sighted, I think. But you were young."
"Didn't give the fealty oath. Didn't even participate in the ceremony! I thought they'd cancel it when I didn't show."
"Ah, but it was held anyway, witnessed through the Medium by humans across the galaxy. And Her Majesty forgave you, and named you Duke in spite of your impudence. You only renounced your title after the fact. On this planet's local net."
"I think people around here got the idea I was serious. Haven't I been a good neighbor? I'm really just a poor scrabbling sessa rancher like everyone else."
"Oh, you're becoming quite the memorecording celebrity, don't forget that."
"To make a living, I gather sessa. A rancher, that's all I really am." Again the old resentment flared up. "The Empire is a myth. Old Earth's more than half a lifetime away, a trip few here would live long enough to return from. Not on the fastest Fleet ship, not pushing the very limits of cold-sleep. The only true government on Avernus is the Planetary Administration. My father was just a figurehead."
"We do need the Coin of the Realm to do business with the Free Fleet and the Order of the Medium. Besides, if our local government were corrupt or unjust, some of us might have wanted an Imperial Tribunal convened here."
Merwin shuddered. "I'd have had to be the third member."
"There was never a hearing in your father's time, was there? Or your grandfather's, for that matter. But the Empress never tried to reestablish the duumvirate."
"Your situation isn't too different from mine, you know. You used to be with the Free Fleet."
Nick scowled. "I think I said I was in a similar fix."
"Could it be them? They have d-bombs."
Nick shook his head. "The next starship is about two years off. Merwin, what motive could they possibly have?"
"We don't even know what the target was. But Nick, with their stealth-tech, how can you be sure there's not one in orbit right now?"
"I think any Fleet Captain in this part of space would pay me the courtesy of calling to say hello."
"Well, unless he was on a secret bombing mission."
Nick gave a derisive snort.
"Are you sure you're not, um, some sort of outcast among your former peers?"
Nick smiled. "No. Oh, I've heard the rumors. But no, I'm on good terms with my friends from my starfaring days. Over the years we've kept in touch through the Medium."
"Have you ever, uh, regretted your decision?"
Nick sighed. "I had thirty wonderful years with Helen. There's sorrow but no regret. I'd do it all again."
Merwin knew his friend didn't like to talk about his deceased wife or his Fleet days; now he sought to inject a note of humor. "I'll bet it's the Volz. The Rim Alliance has fallen and the Volz are invading the Realm."
It got him a weak laugh from Nick. "My money's on the Jaeen."
"Except neither species uses d-bombs," Merwin said. "Kidding aside, the Rim Alliance does have them. To use against the Volz. If they weren't so far away—"
"They don't know how to build them," Nick said. "The Fleet shares munitions with them, yes, but keeps track of every weapon."
"Maybe someone here on Avernus figured out how to build one, then."
"It's barely possible. I don't think it's too damn likely."
"If they used the Medium to search all the Realm's computer archives. Going all the way back to the days-"
"No! That information's not available. This is not common knowledge, but anyone who tried to access such data, the Order would tell their local government. It'd be a serious matter."
"The Order. They've had access to the Realm's computer nets from the beginning. Withholding data like that isn't the same as destroying it."
"What would be their motive?"
"Can't think of one. And I'd hate to think it was them." In fact the idea dismayed him. Someone he'd once cared for was an Initiate.
Nick seemed to read his mind. "You know who I'd like to ask about this? Barbraluna."
Merwin felt a gentle ache in his chest. The fact was, he still cared. "You think her Order is involved, then?"
"Of course not! But she's quite a learned lady, and she has the gifts of perspective and insight. Would you feel like flying over to the coast with me tomorrow?"
Merwin gave a sad little grin. "I don't know. Sure, why not?"
"Here, drink up. Don't look so damned bleak."
Merwin complied with alacrity.
Nick emptied his own glass, and then got up to pour them replacements. "Everyone else on Avernus will be playing the same guessing game we are," he said, handing Merwin his second beer.
"The Order, the Empire, or the Fleet."
"You can't think of any other possibilities, can you?"
Once there had been the Church, but that institution was nearly dead. Then there was the Tourists' League—Merwin grinned at the thought; they might boycott a planet, but bombing one was surely beyond them.
"No. Was the blast visible from Capitol Park, do you think?"
"No, but eighty percent of the population still saw it."
They fell silent for a moment. Merwin shook his head. "I just don't know what to make of it," he finally said.
"Nor I."
Several hours and many beers later, Nick's comm pad suddenly buzzed. "Don't answer that," said Merwin.
"Why not? Are we hermits all of a sudden?" He picked it up and tapped a square on its display surface, smiling at it like a man checking his face in a mirror with what he probably believed was a pleasant grin.
Merwin thought it made him look a little demented.
"Yes? This is Old Nick."
A female voice spoke sharply. Merwin couldn't quite catch her words, but he certainly didn't like her tone.
"Pardon me?" There was a puzzled look on Nick's face. "My hearing isn't what it used to be. Let me transfer you to the wall screen
with the big sound system."
He did so. Suddenly a harpy's face loomed over them, dominating the wall behind Nick's desk.
To Merwin's dismay, it was Mae Linn Noori, probably the most obnoxious newscaster on the planet. She worked for Channel D, the lowest-budget, lowest-brow streaming network on Avernus.
Once she might have been attractive. Years of digging for dirt on people had given her face a sharp, sour expression. Her long black hair was streaked with gray. Her eyes, once wide and luminous, now goggled like those of a manic frog.
"Well! I find you both together. I tried to contact you first, Duke Merwin-" she pronounced it with a sneer "-so I'm gratified to find you in the company of Commodore Price."
Nick cowered back from her image, scrambling around his desk, falling awkwardly onto the couch beside Merwin. Merwin started to protest her use of his title, but she ignored him and bore down on Old Nick.
"Nick Price, are you aware that a disruptor bomb has been exploded on the surface of Avernus, within sight of most humans on this world?"
"Uh, well, sure. We saw it."
"Do you deny it was a d-bomb?"
"What?" Nick was obviously flustered. "Deny it?"
"Isn't it true you were born in deep space, a member of the Free Interstellar Fleet?"
"Well, certainly."
"And you lived most of your life as a member?"
"About half my life."
"Why did you settle on Avernus in the first place? Ostensibly it was to marry a local woman, was it not?"
Nick staggered to his feet. "What's that word mean? I don' care for the sound of it."
"We'll take that as a yes. Is that a common thing for Fleet officers to do, Commodore Price?"
"My Helen was an uncommon woman," said Nick with drunken dignity.
"You don't deny that in the Fleet you attained the rank of Sector Commodore?"
"Why would I deny it?"
"Surely you don't deny that the Free Fleet has d-bombs. It's common knowledge."
"Then I guess I better 'fess up."
"Have you ever personally given the order to launch such a weapon?"
A look of alarm came into Nick's face. "I won't answer that."
"I might have guessed."
"There are no ships of the Fleet anywhere near Avernus now!"
"Taking their stealth technology into account, can you be certain there are no such vessels in our system?"
"No, but I—"
"Another Fleet technology is the FTL ultradrive. Their exclusive possession of it is what gives the Fleet their monopoly on interstellar trade, isn't that true?"
Nick snickered. "Guess I better 'fess to that, too."
"In fact they jealously guard the secrets of its functioning, isn't that also true?"
"It's their intellectual property."
"Perhaps there was a secret installation in the mountains of the Long Coast, maybe a research station trying to develop such a drive—the Fleet would certainly bomb such a place, wouldn't it?"
Nick's jaw worked, but for a moment he was rendered speechless by the accusation. He shook his head. "No," he finally said. Now he looked quite sober. "They wouldn't." He sat down, shaking his head.
"And you, Duke Merwin Marrison, do you have any secret knowledge regarding today's event?"
"I renounced the Dukedom years ago."
"Not in the eyes of the Empress. According to my legal department."
"I can't help what the Empress might think. I don't know what she thinks."
"Do you suppose she might be angry with you for not respecting her authority?"
"After all these years? I doubt she gives it much thought anymore."
"The Empire has d-bombs. Do they not?"
Merwin remained silent.
"And they have starships of their own. Certainly they could deliver a d-bomb attack to Avernus, could they not? A