A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

“Yes, sir. Cruising on my assigned route, I detected the ‘wake’ of a

larger vessel. As per standing orders, I moved closer to establish

identification. She was an unmistakable Merseian warcraft. My orders

gave me discretion, as the admiral knows, whether to report the sighting

in person with no further ado or attempt finding out more. Rightly or

wrongly, I decided on the second course. Chances were against another

encounter and we might be left with no further leads. I dropped back and

sent a courier, which apparently never got here. My report’s going to

recommend tightening inspection procedures.

“Well, I shadowed the Merseian at the limits of detectability–for

me–which I thought would keep my smaller vessel outside her sensor

range. But we entered the range of another ship, a picket, that spotted

me, closed in, and made capture. I was brought to the planet Talwin,

where the Merseians turned out to have an advanced base. After

miscellaneous brouhaha, I escaped via a pulsar, taking this dignitary

along for a hostage.”

“Um-m-m, ah.” Julius squinted at Ydwyr. “An awkward affair, yes. They

were technically within their rights, building that base, weren’t they?

But they had no right to hold an Imperial vessel and an Imperial officer

… in a region free by treaty. Um.” It was blatant that he shrank from

being caught in the middle of a diplomatic crisis.

“If it please the admiral,” Flandry said, “I speak Eriau. The datholch

and I have held some long conversations. Without attempting to make

policy or anything, sir–I know I’m forbidden to–I did feel free to

suggest a few thoughts. Would the admiral care to have me interpret?” It

had turned out the base’s linguistic computer was on the fritz and

nobody knew how to fix it.

“Ah … yes. Certainly. Tell his, ah, his highness we consider him a

guest of the Imperium. We will try to, ah, show him every courtesy and

arrange for his speedy transportation home.”

“He’s physicked anxious to shoot you off and bury this whole affair

deep,” Flandry informed Ydwyr. “We can do anything we choose with him.”

“You will proceed according to plan, then?” the scientist inquired. His

expression was composed, but Flandry had learned how to recognize a

sardonic twinkle in a Merseian eye.

“Knaich, not exactly a plan. The fact of Talwin cannot be hidden. GHQ

will see a report and assign an investigator. What we want is to save

face all around. You’ve been offered a ride back, as I guessed you would

be. Accept it for the earliest possible moment. When you reach Talwin,

get Morioch to evacuate his ships and personnel. The planet will be of

no further use for intelligence operations anyway; your government’s

sure to order them shut down, if our Navy team finds nothing going on

but peaceful xenological research, they’ll gloss over what signs are

left of extracurricular activity, and nothing will likely be said on

either side about this contretemps that you and I were involved in.”

“I have already assented to your making these proposals in my name.

Proceed.”

Flandry did, in more tactful language. Julius beamed. If his command was

instrumental in halting an undesirable Merseian project, word would

circulate among the higher-ups. It would influence promotions, rotation

to more promising worlds, yes, yes, no matter how discreetly the affair

was handled. A discretion which’ll result in nobody’s caring to notice

whatever loose ends dangle out of my story, Flandry thought.

“Excellent, Lieutenant!” Julius said. “My precise idea! Tell his

highness I’ll make prompt arrangements.”

Ydwyr said gravely: “I fear the research will not long endure. With no

bonus of military advantage–”

“I told you I’d do my best for you,” Flandry answered, “and I’ve been

mulling a scheme. Didn’t want to advance it till I was sure we could

write our own playbill, but now I am. See, I’ll put on an indignation

act for you. Maybe your folk should not have detained me; still, you are

of the Vach Urdiolch and my cavalier treatment of you was an insult to

the Race. Seeing that he’s avid to please, you’ve decided to milk old

Julius. You’ll let yourself be mollified if he’ll strongly urge that the

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