They were in a new star system. MacKinnie tried to comprehend that, but it was impossible to believe. Yet it must be true. The stars outside the ship were subtly different, some constellations remaining as before, but others altered.
The journey to Makassar took another twenty-four days, with the transition from acceleration to deceleration taking place in the middle of the night. They were gathered in the main lounge, with Stark acting as a serving man, on the “afternoon” of the last day, when the hatch opened and they were joined by Landry and Renaldi.
“We have nearly arrived, gentlemen,” Renaldi announced importantly. “I have requested Midshipman Landry to allow you to see the object of all your attention, and he has graciously consented. It will be visible through the ports over there.” As Renaldi spoke, Landry removed the locks from the observation ports and opened them.
Makassar was a tiny ball, hanging in the dark of space. The most prominent feature, easily visible even from this distance, was a pair of enormous ice caps. Much of the world between them was water, with a single continent, mostly in the Southern Hemisphere, swimming westward like an enormous whale. Two large islands, almost continental in size, hung above it in the Northern Hemisphere, and the shallow seas were dotted with smaller islands. There were two distinct colors to the seas where the sun shone upon them, and Kleinst remarked that it must be due to a dramatic difference in depth. Deep water was mostly in the Northern Hemisphere, with the continent surrounded by the pale blue marking much shallower depths.
“It’s a lovely world,” Landry remarked, standing next to MacKinnie and pointing out some of the more visible features. “Smaller than Earth. Gravity is about eighty-seven percent of that of Earth, which makes it about, oh, let’s see.” He withdrew his small computer and wrote directly on one face of it with an attached stylus. “I make it seventy-nine percent of the gravity you’re used to, Trader. Your men are going to be very strong compared to the locals down there. That might be useful.”
“It might be indeed,” MacKinnie muttered. “Are those ice caps normal in size? I seem to recall our maps of Samual show much smaller ones.”
“Makassar is a bit colder than Samual. Orbit’s more eccentric, enough to make some climatic differences. The inclination of the planet is also greater. Turns out it’s summer — by planet inclination — in the Southern Hemisphere when the planet’s farthest from the sun. I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the two big islands in the north were uninhabitable, or nearly so. It would be pretty cold there. You’re arriving in the middle of spring on the main continent.”
MacKinnie recalled the maps they had been given. Except for a few sea trader towns, the entire population of Makassar was concentrated on the main continent, at least as far as the Imperials knew. The maps weren’t very accurate, but at that they’d be the best obtainable.
They watched the planet grow larger and larger as the ship approached. Each member of the expedition stood in silence, lost in his particular fantasy, dreaming of other worlds. Then the alarm sounded, and they scrambled for the landing boat.
* * *
The Imperial base was located in a small trading town by a great bay at the western end of the planet’s single continent. A scattered chain of islands led across the shallow seas to a series of large islands from which trading ships and sometimes pirate raiders came. Because of their depredations, the area around Jikar was largely uninhabited, which suited the Imperials well. Their presence in the town was disturbance enough; they had no desire to be seen by any large number of the people of Makassar.
A light rain was falling as they left the landing boat. They stood on the stone dock and stared about them in silence.
“Another world,” Mary Graham said. “It’s hard to believe.”
“It is that,” MacKinnie said. He sniffed the air, but could smell nothing. The rain had washed away any alien odors, and kept them from seeing very far. He turned back to Graham. “This is the first chance we’ve had to talk alone,” he said. “What was the long heated conversation you had with Renaldi yesterday?”
“It was nothing-”
“Your pardon, but I do not believe that.”
“He wanted — I tell you, it was nothing.”
“The Trader invited her to dinner,” Longway said.
“Alone?”
“Yes. Of course I refused,” Graham said.
MacKinnie looked at her grimly. “You should have told me. I am—”
“My guardian,” Graham finished for him. “Yes, and what good would that have done? You would have challenged him. He would have been horrified and thought us barbaric. Nothing would have been accomplished-”
“But-”
“She’s right,” Longway said. “By his standards there was nothing improper about the invitation.” He put his hand on MacKinnie’s sleeve. “I know,” he said. “The invitation implied that she might accept it. Since free-born ladies would never visit a man in his quarters, he implies that she is no more than a tavern girl. But he does not know that, Trader MacKinnie.”
“And who will explain this to her father?” MacKinnie asked.
“He is not here,” Longway said carefully. “Nor is there any reason to explain to him. Trader, Imperial ladies are, I think, no more immoral than our own, but they are their own mistresses. Not under guardianship. The Empire is as shocked by our customs as we are by theirs. More, I think. And remember where we are. You can hope there will be nothing worse than this to endure.”
MacKinnie turned away without answering. Longway was right, of course. Even on Prince Samual’s World there were cultures which did not so thoroughly protect their women as did the North Continent civilizations. There were even places where men did not go constantly armed. He had adjusted to those, and he could to Makassar.
Navy House was crude, a stone building constructed by the locals, and there was no Marine fortress. Whatever defenses the Imperials had installed were not obvious to MacKinnie as his group approached the Imperial headquarters.
Many of the locals were small men, brown and dark, reminding MacKinnie of the officers aboard the trading starship. Their clothing was crude, some of the men wearing trousers, others dressed in long, gownlike robes which hung to their knees. In sharp contrast to the passengers of the starship, everyone seemed to have a beard of some kind, although many of them were not well developed. Their hair was long, and it was obvious at a distance that they did not often practice bathing.
In the hundred yards from the docks to Navy House MacKinnie’s party was approached by at least ten beggars, some of them proudly displaying truly horrible disfigurations. They shouted and pleaded, and
MacKinnie was pleased to see that he was able to understand them reasonably well. The practice aboard the ship had been useful for learning the language, even if he did not care much for his first encounter with it. Stark tossed out a few copper coins, allowing them to escape as the beggars cursed and fought for the money.
They were permitted to stay in Navy House for a few days only, and MacKinnie’s officers eagerly explored the small town, talking to the inhabitants and investigating the possible marketable goods for sale. At the end of the third day on the planet, they assembled in the one large room of the headquarters building. Renaldi, as usual, sat by the fire, a glass in his hand.
“Your Excellency, we have been unable to find a single thing worth transportation to Prince Samual’s World. We are beginning to think there is nothing here,” MacKinnie began. “Where are the spices, and exotic cloth, and the rest that you and your partner described?”
Renaldi laughed. “For all I know,” he said thickly, “there may not be another valuable thing on the planet. Soliman cleans a place out pretty good when he gets the chance.”
“But — but,” stammered MacKinnie, “if there’s nothing here, we’re ruined. You’ve charged us an enormous price for transportation to this place. Surely there’s something worth buying. How are we going to recover our expenses?”
“You probably won’t. We never promised you a profit, Trader.” Renaldi pronounced the title as if it were an insult. “In our business, you have to take chances. Perhaps you took an unwise chance.”
“But we took it on your advice!” MacKinnie snapped, then changed to a pleading tone. “Surely you know of some way we can make this profitable for King David. Surely with your experience you can help us.”
“Unlikely.” Renaldi drank deeply. “But whatever it is you are to do, be quick about it. The ship leaves in three days.”
“Three days! Why, that’s impossible. You promised us sufficient time to arrange for trade, even to organize a permanent company here. We can’t begin to arrange for trade in three days. You knew that before we started.” MacKinnie looked down at the impassive face and had an urge to tear our the small mustache by the roots. He restrained himself and said, “I’m going to complain to the Navy. They’ll make you honor your contract.”
“Our contract, Trader, says that you will be brought here, and returned at a time mutually convenient. The ship leaves in three days. That’s convenient to us. And you’ve nothing to complain about; we’re going to two other star systems before we go back to your miserable planet. You won’t be permitted out of your quarters while we’re there, but think of the broadening travel you’ll experience.”
“It is not mutually convenient if one party does not agree,” Longway said softly. “We may have few rights, Imperial Trader Renaldi, but I suspect Captain Greenaugh will enforce those we have. He did not seem to be overly fond of Imperial Traders, Your Excellency. We will not leave in three days.”
Renaldi shrugged. “Suit yourselves. The next ship we could schedule through this miserable system will arrive at this port in something over a standard year. If you wish to wait for it, I will have the Navy compute the exact number of local days before it arrives. You can wander this poverty-stricken ball until you tire of it.” He got up with an effort and filled his glass from an open bottle on the great table which dominated the room. MacKinnie noted that the bottle was handblown, and crudely at that, but of an interesting color. Renaldi seemed to be fond of the local liquor.
“Three days or over a year,” Nathan observed. “Neither is very convenient.”
“Those are the times convenient to us. Which do you choose?” Renaldi backed away from MacKinnie nervously as the soldier approached him, fingering his belt as if grasping for a weapon which was not there. He managed to get back to his seat, where he regained his composure. “Come, now, we never promised you more. And think of the adventures you can have, wandering about on a planet of swineherds.” He laughed for a moment, saw MacKinnie’s face, and stopped short.
Nathan turned to MacLean and said, “Go get the lieutenant in command of this post. We may as well find out just what else this man can do to us.” The group waited in a strained silence for several minutes before MacLean returned with Midshipman Landry and another officer.
Lieutenant Farr was a short, dark man who resembled the planetary locals. MacKinnie wondered idly if he had been chosen for the post for his ability to blend in with the rest of the population. Nathan explained the situation, and Farr and Renaldi conversed in the Imperial language for several minutes, speaking too rapidly for even Longway to understand. Renaldi became more and more excited, but the lieutenant spoke with a deadly calm. Although he did not have the intense, dedicated look which MacKinnie had noted was common of the Navy men, he never seemed to smile either. Instead, his manner was coldly official with perhaps the merest trace of relief from the boredom of being commanding officer to a post without a mission.
When the conversation was finished, Farr turned to MacKinnie, speaking very slowly. “If he is correct about the details of the contract your king signed, then he can legally do this. We could examine it for you if you’d like, but it might take some time. There are no legal officers on this post.”
MacKinnie canted his head to one side, realized the gesture was meaningless to the lieutenant, and said, “Thank you, no. I’m sure they drafted it carefully enough.” He seized a glass, filled it, and drained it off. “Is there any chance of our finding a decent trading community on this planet, Lieutenant? And will we be allowed to go and search for one?”
“The only place I can suggest is the main city, Batav. It’s said to be wealthy, although what the locals mean by wealth is not likely to impress you. It is all you will find.”
MacKinnie nodded. “Then I suppose we must go there. I can’t return to King David without something to show for his investment.”
“There are difficulties,” Lieutenant Farr said slowly. “The Empire cannot transport you there. The entire countryside is in a state of war, and it is not likely you will survive to reach Batav. We can give you no protection …” The officer paused. “But if you must go, perhaps you will find another party of Imperial citizens who set out for Batav. A group of churchmen defied our advice and departed months ago. We have not heard from them, and His Holiness will insist on knowing what became of his missionaries. If you find what became of them, it will make the job easier.”
MacKinnie looked at the officer, realizing that if the Navy could not send troops to search for missionaries, it would never attempt to protect a group of colonial Traders. Prince Samual’s World seemed far away, lost in the swirl of stars above them, and he knew he would never see it again. One thing, he thought; at least they would have no way of knowing what he intended doing at the old library, if he ever reached it.
“We’ll look for them, Lieutenant,” Nathan said. “Now, I suppose we must find quarters in the town, so that we can organize our expedition. I dare not return to my own world without a profit until I have done everything I can do.” He turned to Renaldi. “As for you, I understand that the Empire preserves local customs insofar as this is possible. I will live for the day when you return to Prince Samual’s World and I meet you on a field of honor. Presuming, of course, that you have any.” When Renaldi made no reply, MacKinnie stalked away.