Floating Castles полностью

/The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Dec 1988, p. 30-51/

Floating Castles

Ray Aldridge

THREE OF THEM CAME forth from their wonderful machine and tottered toward us across the rough concrete of Industry Square. I smiled when I saw how weak they were. My mate Nefrete and a dozen of my men stood with me, waiting to greet the aliens, and we all wore the same smile.

The leader was a small, ancient biped. A few strands of dirty gray hair crossed her fragile skull. Her skin was dark; not an honest black, but not the dead white of the other two, who seemed almost mindless, two pale grubworms walking like men, their eyes empty.

"I am Kaua Moala, trader and finder," she said, holding up an empty hand.

I shook my ceremonial harquebus at her, by way of greeting. "Taladin Bondavi; call me Lord," I said in a loud voice.

The trader inclined her head, exposing a thin, bony neck. "Lord. Greetings in the name of Seed Corpo—"

"What do you want here?" I interrupted. I saw no need for courtesy. She was my inferior, after all. Attitude is everything. I used to say this frequently. I still believe it, in spite of all.

She was unruffled, and her small eyes were insultingly confident. Instinct told me to kill her and be done with it, and my hand tightened on the harquebus.

"Trade...," she said. It was almost a question. "To offer you reunion with the pangalac worlds that seeded your world."

"What creatures walk these worlds?"

"Human, like us. And other beings."

"Human, like us?" I took a handful of her tunic and jerked her toward me, close to my teeth. She hung from my hand like a doll, smiling blandly. "I am human," I said. "What are you?"

Our eyes were inches apart, but she showed no sign of fear. I felt a touch of grudging respect. I released her, and she stood back, tugging her tunic straight, expressionless.

"We come from the same stock," she said. "There are other races like yours. Their seedships fell on unfriendly worlds, and they are strong, too. Though you are unusual. Few HardWorlds develop heavy industry, as you have."

"And what could we trade?"

"Things unique to your people. For example." She pointed at my mount, parked at the side of the Square. "People back in the pangalac worlds would pay well for copies of that." Unexpectedly, she laughed. "Think of it! A gilded steam chariot. Lovely."

There was a mocking tone to her words, and again I felt the compulsion to kill. Still, I haggled. "So, you would take my chariot away with you, and in return, what?"

"Oh, we wouldn't keep it. Just borrow it for analysis; then you could have it back."

"And in return, what?" Her insolence rankled, but I could not stop before I found out what she offered. The division of power in this craggy district was always volatile. I was then hard-pressed by Moltreado agents in our northern catapple plantations. Labor organizers and other saboteurs were causing quite a bit of trouble. "We might accept weapons in return for our ... unique things."

"Weapons may not be exported to worlds where they do not yet exist.

This, I'm afraid, is one of Seed Corporation's most stringent regulations." "What of the tubes your assistants wear at their belts? Weapons?" "Yes." She smiled. "But no good to you. The stuns fire only from their rightful owner’s hand."

I was too angry to speak. She believed that we were savages, eager to be impressed by talk of magic. I signaled my enforcer.

Swinfermo was short and quick, with a deceptively placid face. As he stepped forward, he brought up his harquebus and cocked the lock. The trader jerked back, and her fingers twitched against her belt.

One of the pale grub-creatures was slowly raising its weapon when Swinfermo blew its head off. Swinfermo took his time reloading, while the other raised its glassy little tube. Swinfermo's major quality was a sort of reckless, fatalistic courage. When the pale light flashed out, he fell without a sound.

Six others fired an instant later, and the other creature splashed messily across the concrete. Slowly and carefully, the trader held up her empty hands again. "Wait," she said. "My ship orbits your world. An implant in my skull transmits — you have radio again, you understand me? It transmits my position and state of health to my ship. If I die here, my ship will take a terrible vengeance on you."

"Of course," I said scornfully, but then I looked at her marvelous vehicle, and thought: Perhaps she isn't bluffing.

She shrugged, and there was that smile again. "I don't ask you to believe me now. I've arranged a demonstration of the ship's power. An hour after dark."

"And I'm to let you live until then?"

"Exactly. If I'm not alive to see the show, you won't be, either."