A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

Imperium help support the scientific work which, officially, will have

been Merseia’s reason for being on Talwin in the first place.”

The big green body tautened. “Is that possible?”

“I imagine so. We’ll have to keep watch on Talwin from here on anyway,

lest your Navy sneak back. It needn’t be from scoutboats, though. A few

subsidized students or the like, doing their graduate thesis work, are

quite as good and a lot cheaper. And … with us sharing the costs, I

daresay you can find money at home to carry on.”

A small renaissance of Terran science? Hardly. Academic hackwork. Oh, I

suppose I can indulge in the hope.

“In the name of the God.” Ydwyr stared before him for a length of time

that made Julius shift and harrumph. At last he gripped both of

Flandry’s hands and said, “From that beginning, our two people working

together, what may someday come?”

Nothing much, except, I do dare hope, a slight reinforcement of the

reasons for our hanging onto this frontier. Those Merseians may keep us

reminded who’s always ready to fill any available vacuum. “The datholch

bears a noble dream.”

“What’s this?” Julius puffed. “What are you two doing?”

“Sir, I’m afraid we’ve hit a rock or two,” Flandry said.

“Really? How long will this take? I have a dinner engagement.”

“Maybe we can settle the difficulty before then, sir. May I be seated? I

thank the admiral, I’ll do my best, sir. Got my personal affairs to

handle too.”

“No doubt.” Julius regarded the young man calculatingly. “I am told

you’ve applied for furlough and reassignment.”

“Yes, sir. I figure those months on Talwin more than completed my tour

of duty here. No reflection on this fine command, but I am supposed to

specialize along other lines. And I believe I may have an inheritance

coming. Rich uncle on a colonial planet wasn’t doing too well, last I

heard. I’d like to go collect my share before they decide a ‘missing in

action’ report on me authorizes them to divvy up the cash elsewhere.”

“Yes. I see. I’ll approve your application, Lieutenant, and recommend

you for promotion.” (“If you bail me fast out of this mess” was

understood.) “Let’s get busy. What is the problem you mentioned?”

The room above Door 666 was unchanged, a less tasteful place to be than

the commandant’s and a considerably more dangerous one. The Gorzunian

guard stirred no muscle; but light gleamed off a scimitar thrust under

his gun belt. Behind the desk, Leon Ammon sweated and squeaked and never

took his needle gaze off Flandry. Djana gave him head-high defiance in

return; her fists, though, kept clenching and unclenching on her lap,

and she had moved her chair into direct contact with the officer’s.

He himself talked merrily, ramblingly, and on the whole, discounting a

few reticences, truthfully. At the end he said, “I’ll accept my fee–in

small bills, remember–with unparalleled grace.”

“You sure kept me waiting,” Ammon hedged. “Cost me extra, trying to find

out what’d happened and recruit somebody else. I ought to charge the

cost to your payment. Right?”

“The delay wasn’t my fault. You should have given your agent better

protection, or remuneration such that she had no incentive to visit

persons to whom she’d not been introduced.” Flandry buffed fingernails

on tunic and regarded them critically. “You have what you contracted

for, a report on Wayland, favorable at that.”

“But you said the secret’s been spilled. The Merseians–”

“My friend Ydwyr the Seeker assures me he’ll keep silence. The rest of

whatever personnel on Talwin have heard about the Mimirian System will

shortly be dispersed. In any event, why should they mention a thing that

can help Terra? Oh, rumors may float around, but you only need five or

ten years’ concealment and communication is poor enough to guarantee you

that.” Flandry reached for a cigarette. Having shed the addiction in

these past months, he was enjoying its return. “Admittedly,” he said,

“if I release Ydwyr from his promise, he may well chance to pass this

interesting item–complete with coordinates–on to the captain of

whatever Imperial ship arrives to look his camp over.”

Ammon barked a laugh. “I expected a response from you, Dominic. You’re a

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