Stranded on Haven Page 4

  The northern nation-state was the second largest, but that seemed deceptive. Much of its territory consisted of a large mountain range that ran down the middle of the continent. The nation was called Cellia. Its capitol, Lenopolis, was located on the shore of a large lake, almost an inland sea, covering thousands of hectares. Cellia contained only three cities, joined by rail lines, and a widespread scattering of smaller settlements. Surprisingly, though, rail lines joined even those settlements. Cellia showed the most activity by what appeared to be military units, and Lisa suggested that at least some of the scattered 'settlements' might be military installations. Their radio broadcasts seemed to be almost all official or political in nature or simply music, with little entertainment programming. I was trying to keep an open mind, but I still moved Cellia down on my list of prospective homes.

  The southernmost nation-state formed a long, narrow band across the southern part of the continent. It featured seacoasts on both its eastern and southern borders. Only a few hundred kilometers of the mountain range reached Cornwell; most of it appeared to consist of cultivated fields. Of its four rail-linked cities, two were on the coasts. The other two were surrounded by farmland. During the day, Cornwell's radio broadcasts, like those of Cellia, were largely music and talk. But as evening crept across the lands, entertainment programming blossomed, with comedies and dramas predominant.

  New Home was the name of the Easternmost of the nation-states. It also seemed to be the most populous. It held six smoke hidden cities and dozens of smaller towns, all linked by a bewildering web of rail lines. Judging by its radio broadcasts, New Home seemed to fancy itself as some sort of elder, or senior, state, and much of its political programming sounded a bit pretentious and self-important. It even featured royalty, a custom that was all but unknown nowadays. Despite its king and its self-importance, it did seem to be the most developed of the nation-states.

  The nation-states on the smaller, Eastern continent appeared to be typical frontier societies, too preoccupied with settling the continent to worry much about happenings among their cousins to the west. Since travel between the two probably took weeks by ship and days even by airship, this was not, perhaps, surprising.

  East Brent was apparently a colony, or at least a child, of New Home. Of the two Eastern states, it showed the most interest in happenings to the west. But even here, there was little entertainment programming, and radio seemed to be used more for communication than entertainment. Both of East Brent's major cities were on the seacoast, and it appeared that most travel was via boat, ship, airship, or animal-back. There were few rail lines, though it appeared that rail was being laid.

  Refuge was the oddity of the group. It was also the smallest, with only a small, hazy seaport and a few outlying villages and settlements. As with East Brent, there was little entertainment programming, but like Cellia, much of what there was seemed to be political. It was difficult to even classify it as a nation-state, since most of the political harangues seemed to be anarchic or libertarian in nature. Their only interest in things to the west seemed to be to accrue ammunition with which to attack their politics.

  So, essentially there were six political divisions on Haven, four major on the west continent, and two minor ones on the easternmost continent.

  Politically, each of the divisions seemed to dislike at least one of the others. New Home seemed to look down on all the others, resenting the fact that none of them would recognize New Home’s unique status as leader of the colony. But it seemed to reserve a particular dislike for Cellia, which it considered a nasty, brutish dictatorship, one that should be eliminated.

  Cornwell resented New Home’s assumption of superiority, and often seemed to oppose that nation's policies out of simple spite. But Cornwell was wary of Cellia, and felt threatened by their northern neighbor. Cellia gained its wealth and power from the mines scattered among its mountains. It had little room for agriculture, and food shortages were common in Cellia. Cornwell was very much aware that Maximum Leader Len coveted their fertile lands and their seaports.

  And they were correct. I could almost read Len’s mind. The Maximum Leader was well aware that his power rested largely on propaganda and the existence of external enemies. But neither propaganda nor 'enemies' could prevail over food shortages. And the damned Cornwells kept raising their prices! If he didn't do something soon, he'd have to start cutting military expenditures; and he simply couldn't do that. His military might was his main control on the people, and it kept those damned busybodies from New Home at bay. But if he could take over Cornwell, he’d not only end the food shortages, he’d cut the continent in thirds, cutting Westin off from New Home. In a few more years, it would be easy to pick off Westin. He'd already had his propaganda machine start blaming Cornwell for the food shortages. In a year or so, he'd be ready to invade. If he didn't have to cut the military budget!

  The people of Westin, those that had entertainment radio access, mildly resented New Home’s assumption of superiority, but for them, it was mostly fodder for comedy routines and jokes. They told themselves they were too busy building a nation to concern themselves with issues “back east.” If they could be said to dislike anyone, it was Cellia. A couple of years ago, Len had been flexing his muscles at them. Still Westin seemed mostly to want only to be left alone to grow their nation.

  Finally, I realized that I knew everything I needed to know. Well, almost everything. Now it was showtime.

  ******

  The servant burst through the door unannounced, and Duke Richard's startled jump left a spreading pool of ink on the paper before him. His expression turned thunderous, but before he could speak, the servant cried, “Your Excellency! A radio call! From the ship!”

  There was only one ship that required no clarification. Duke Richard's frown disappeared instantly. “The spaceship? They are finally calling us?” He smiled. “The mystery speaks at last. What do they want?”

  The servant shook his head. “You don't understand, Excellency. They asked for you! By name!”

  Duke Richard's eyebrows rose. “Indeed? How interesting. Can you bring a receiver in here?”

  The servant nodded uncertainly. “Uh, yes, Excellency. But I'm afraid it would take over an hour.”

  Duke Richard nodded. “Very well. Then let's go to the radio room. We would not want to keep our visitor waiting.” He rose, and the servant hurried to open the door.

  Once at the radio room, he had the radio operator show him how to key the microphone, and then sent him and the servant out.

  Taking a deep breath, he keyed the microphone. “This is Richard Antwan, Duke of Lazenby calling.”

  The reply was instant, and Duke Richard was impressed by the clarity of the signal. “Good day to you, Excellency.” It was a man's voice, surprisingly normal. “My name is Jerd Carver, sire. I am aboard Startrader, the starship now orbiting Haven. I am in need of a little advice, and my researches convince me that you are the man who can help me.

  “I will be opening contact with all the nations of Haven shortly, sire, and I have been trying to locate the names of all the heads of state. As with your King David, that information is usually easy to find. However, I have encountered difficulty locating the name of the head of state of Refuge.”

  Duke Richard chuckled. “Refuge? I can easily believe you're having problems. They seem to change heads of state every few days. I suspect they rotate it, and seem to delight in appointing unlettered ruffians.”

  The voice became amused. “I see, Excellency. Yet I must negotiate with someone. You, yourself, are highly respected in the field of international relations. Can you give me the name of someone in Refuge with a similar reputation?”

  Duke Richard frowned. “There's only one person I'd consider a serious representative. His name is Howed Kanner. Likes to present himself as some kind of rude barbarian, but there's much more to him than appearances would indicate. He usually occupies some low-level position in their delegations, but he's the one that
pulls the strings.

  “I see. Can you recommend a frequency I can use to contact him?”

  Duke Richard shrugged. “Their embassy here uses 88.9 kilohertz. I suspect that would be monitored on their home ground.” He knew it would, of course. His office drawer contained a list of all the frequencies used by other governments and their intelligence agencies.

  “If I may ask,” he continued, “does this call herald a regular contact? Or is this a one-time effort?”

  Again there was amusement in the voice. “I was just coming to that, your Excellency. I am well aware that my vessel contains much that would be of incredible value to Haven. That makes my crew targets for kidnap, torture, or death every time we ground. I have an offer to make to all the heads of state, but presenting it will require some organization.

  “I plan to call each of them, and notify them that I will be sending a robot-controlled lander to provide them with equipment that will facilitate those talks, and to ask them to please not shoot it down. To prevent misunderstandings and accidents, the deliveries will be made well away from the various seats of government, and will be made by parachute. The packages will include a small communicator called a 'tablet', as well as a small gift for the head of state; a memento from Adventurer.”

  The Duke's eyebrows rose again. “From Adventurer, eh? An excellent choice. Few such mementos exist outside of museums anymore, and are highly prized. When can we expect this, uh, delivery?”

  “I'll have to call back with the specifics, Excellency. But I will not need to disturb you with it. I will pass the information concerning the time and location in a few days. I'm sure you'll get the message.”

  Duke Richard smiled. “I'm sure I will.”

  ******

  Contacting the heads of state proved harder than I'd thought. Except for New Home, I had to fight my way through dozens of bureaucrats, and on several occasions had to threaten to break off all contact with that nation. As I expected, Cellia was the worst, though Refuge ran a close second. In Cellia, every bureaucrat was terrified of what might happen to him if he routed the call up the line. Finally, though, I was able to make them more frightened of what would happen if they didn't route the call up, and cost Cellia an important contact.

  Maximum Leader Gerard Len sounded like a gang boss on Trask. “Why fool around with all that nonsense?” he boomed affably. “Come on down, we'll have dinner, and talk about it.”

  When I refused, a bit of the steel fist showed through the velvet glove. “I don't think I can allow an unknown aircraft to penetrate Cellian air space. How do I know it's not gonna bomb us?”

  I was glad he couldn't see me roll my eyes. “What could I possibly gain by dropping a single bomb?”

  The voice was suspicious, now. “That depends on where you drop it, who you're working with, and what arrangements you've made.”

  I sighed. “Maximum Leader, I will send the flight. It will remain in New Home airspace, which we have permission to use. When the vessel approaches the Cellian border, it will deliver the package. I will ask New Home’s government to direct their border guards to deliver it to Cellia's border guards. You can refuse it, you can blow it up, you can try to take it apart to make certain it's not some kind of bomb, you can cast spells on it, you can try to eat it, if you wish. But I will only be talking with those using tablets.” I flicked off the switch, furious.

  With Refuge, the problem was completely different. I had no problem reaching Howed Kanner; he came on the radio within minutes.

  He didn't sound particularly happy when I told him my mission. “I ain't no head of state,” he growled. “We ain't got no head of state. Refuge is our refuge from the tyranny of governments.”

  I sighed before keying the microphone. “So I've been told, sir. But I will have contact with the King of New Home, and the Presidents of Westin and Cornwell, and the Maximum Leader of Cellia. I don't really need another head of state. Refuge is my only access to the common citizens, and not just some government looking for super weapons or power over the others. And I cannot negotiate with thousands of people. I was given your name as one whose opinions are respected, both inside and outside of Refuge.”

  “Why bother me?” he growled. “You'll do whatever your self-interest decides is rational, whatever we say.”

  I sighed. “On a philosophical level, you are partially correct,” I replied. “But I am mature enough to realize that my decisions may impact several million people on Haven. Those people have a right to voice their opinions, and have those opinions factored into my decisions.”

  There was silence on the line for a few moments. “All right, Captain,” he said in a grudging tone. “Send your toy. I'll check around and see if anyone's curious enough to use it.”

  “By the way,” he added, “who give ya my name?”

  I shrugged. I hadn't been asked to keep it secret. “Duke Richard of Lazenby.”

  Kanner chuckled. “Thought it might be.”

  Of all the nations, I worried most about New Home and Cellia. Cellia was a thug dictatorship, and would think nothing of kidnap, torture, or murder. New Home was much more 'civilized', but its monarchy was 'mature' enough to have a highly skilled secret police or intelligence agency. Such an agency would be more sophisticated than Cellia's thugs, but just as effective, if not more so.

  Surprisingly, the deliveries went smoothly, though the robot-controlled lifeboat had to weave in and out through crowds of airships in New Home. Even the complicated silliness with Cellia appeared to have worked. Duke Richard reported that the Cellian border guards had accepted the package.

  It was two days later, and the day before our scheduled conference call that Lisa reported a radio call from Maximum Leader Len. “This gadget of yours was damaged in transit, and isn't working. Send me another.”

  I rolled my eyes. Tablets are incredibly tough. Len wanted a spare to take apart. “I'm sorry, Maximum Leader,” I replied courteously. I was glad he couldn't see the grin on my face, though. “I have no spare tablets to send. If you'd like, I'll leave the radio contact open, and you will be able to listen in that way.”

  Actually, I had plenty of tablets. Lisa carried fifty spares, and of course I had the 23 from the crew. In fact, I suspected there were thousands more onboard Adventurer. Oh, they would be a 500-year-old design, but Lisa would still be able to communicate with them.

  Tablets are our constant companions, almost part of our wardrobe. In fact, I'd rather go out without my pants than without my tablet. They automatically connect to any planetary web, and are a combination comp, entertainment center and comm device. Modern ones are fairly small, about 8cems by 12, convenient for carrying in a pocket, pouch, or bag, and even smaller ones are available, though they can be expensive. Tablets can even be implanted, and connected directly to the neural network. The ones onboard Adventurer would be much larger, of course. Lisa told me they would be about twice the size of modern ones. The old models were larger because they actually contained a screen, on which text and images appeared.

  Modern ones, of course, have no need of a screen, and can be much smaller. They display their images as holograms in the air above the device. The holograms, of course, can be much larger than the tablet itself, and the size is adjustable, from a few cems per side to almost a meter wide and high. At that size, though, the images are so diffuse as to be unreadable. Most of us leave the size at 20 cems or less.

  Chapter 3

  Lisa had no trouble connecting to the six tablets, of course, and at the appointed time, my viewscreen showed six faces. Since I knew which tablet had been delivered to which state, I had no trouble identifying them. King David of New Home was actually rather young, mid-thirties, perhaps. He was resplendent in garish robes and a crown that must have weighed three kilos.

  Maximum Leader Len didn't look like the thug he was. He reminded me of a used flitter salesman, the high-pressure type. He wore a flashy military uniform whose breast was covered with medals.

  Preside
nt Ada Curran of Westin was the only woman represented. She was a rangy, tanned athletic woman, obviously more used to an outdoor life than a presidential palace.

  President Ran Tyree of Cornwell could have been spotted as a politician on any of dozens of worlds. The immaculate but conservative civilian suit, the carefully coiffed hair, even the open, smiling features, practically screamed “politician”. If I'd been carrying a wallet, he'd have made me want to keep my hand on it.

  Prime Minister Jon Crapen of East Brent looked almost embarrassed to be here. He was a small, pale, rabbity man, and his eyes never ceased moving, taking in all of the ship visible to him on the tablet.

  And finally, Howed Kanner of Refuge. He was a large, bearded man, and looked more like a stevedore than a head of state.

  I took a deep breath, and began. “Your Majesty, Madam, Gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting your busy day for this conference, but as your presence indicates, my arrival at Haven introduces factors that are almost certain to impact, and even change, the course of the planet's history. I do not intend to make such momentous decisions on my own, in isolation. The people of Haven are entitled to a voice in them, and as their representatives, I depend upon you to help me avoid unwise decisions. I would have preferred to hold this meeting in person, but I suspected that security concerns and long travel times would make such a meeting impractical. Besides, I am not yet ready to ground on Haven.

  “First, I should tell you about Startrader and me. I have not come to Haven as a trader, with a shipload of goodies to sell or trade. Nor have I come here as a conqueror, my ship crammed with soldiers and weapons. In fact, I come as a refugee, and I am the sole occupant of this enormous vessel.

  “My ship's artificial intelligence tells me that Adventurer had jump capability, so perhaps you have heard old stories about her traveling faster than lightspeed. Well, those stories are true, and freighters like Startrader regularly travel between the stars. But Startrader suffered a catastrophic failure of her supralight drive, and I was the only crewman to survive the accident. And I was a common crewman, not the Captain.