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A fleeting air of guilt crossed Fenrir’s seamed features, and he grimaced. “I should have known you’d find out quickly, Sister.”
“Whenever a ship brings back injured, the emergency medical team inventories the sickbay, so we can replace items consumed in treating those injuries. What we don’t normally see are several non-consumable instruments missing and definitely not half of them.” She took another sip of iced tea. “Please indulge my curiosity. What happened?”
Fenrir let out a long sigh.
“Sister, me and the other merchant ship captains, we’re traders at heart. We’ve been bartering off our surplus for a long time, and for the last three years, that includes the things you give us freely. I figure since your mission here is to help Hatshepsut regain its lost technology, you wouldn’t mind if we spread our off-world wealth among the heathens. Usually, we exchange a few items at a time so that you wouldn’t notice or write it off to normal losses. It’s amazing how small instruments can vanish into the bilge of a ship during a storm, never to be found until the day she’s broken up, or better yet, wash overboard. If you check every ship's sickbay in the merchant fleet, you’ll not find two complete instrument sets. One complete set, yes, but the second set will miss items. The same goes for tools and other things you’ve gifted us.”
“I see.” She took a sip of tea, eyes studying Fenrir over the rim of her glass. “And in your case, the full medical instrument backup set is now in the hands of, as you call them, heathens on Aksum. Did you trade it all at once or in bits over the last few voyages?”
Another grimace.
“Could we possibly change the subject, Sister? I’m deeply grateful for everything you Brethren do for us, but...”
“Rest assured, anything we discuss in this room will remain confidential, and I do need to know about happenings beyond the Republic of Thebes, Lars. This may be our sole base of operations right now, yet at some point, we’ll be sending out missions of our own so we can help the rest of this world rise again.”
Hermina’s steady gaze and the quasi-hypnotic quality of her tone slowly but surely pushed aside Fenrir’s reluctance.
“We traded the second set as a whole this time.”
“What did you take in return? It must be rather unusual.”
“You might say that. The trade cost me my two spare boat Stirling engines and a few other items as well.”
She smiled at him.
“And?”
Fenrir’s jaw muscles worked in silence for several heartbeats as he chose his words, knowing Hermina’s questions would only multiply.
“You promise what we discuss here is confidential?”
“Depending on the nature of your answer, I might need to inform the Brethren who came with me from Lyonesse, but no one else. Certainly not the Theban authorities.”
“Railguns. We obtained four working railguns. New, by all appearances.”
Hermina’s eyes widened slightly at his answer, though Fenrir didn’t notice.
“From an ancient arms depot recently uncovered on Aksum?”
He shook his head.
“No. From off-world. They bear manufacture markings we can’t identify, but they’re certainly not from old imperial stocks. The guns came with solar power pack chargers, spare power packs, and two thousand slugs apiece.” His jaw muscles worked again. “Those weapons saved our hides when the pirates attacked, but not before they put my three in our sickbay, mind you. When we finally fired back, their boats became sieves and sank right quickly. However, if the government finds out, they’ll confiscate the guns and charge me with the illegal weapons trade. Our beloved leaders don’t like us citizens being better armed than their henchmen are.”
“The government won’t hear about them from me, but they present a mystery we must investigate. May Friar Metrobius and I come aboard your ship and examine the items in question? If off-world traders are visiting Hatshepsut, then they’re either from Lyonesse and in violation of our laws, or there are others out there who retained spaceflight and the capacity to produce advanced technology. The latter might represent an opportunity or a threat, and we must know which it is for our safety and that of this world.”
“I have no answers for you, Sister. The one who does is a merchant named Dave Crimple in Mazaber, a seaport on Aksum’s east coast. A true blackguard if there ever was one and the sharpest trader on the entire continent. He dealt with the off-worlders in question or someone who works for him in Aksum’s interior will. I couldn’t say for sure since we heard no rumors of a spaceship landing in Mazaber.”
Hermina nodded slowly.
“It would make sense if they landed away from any settlement and approached on the ground.”
A guffaw escaped Fenrir’s serious countenance.
“You would say that, seeing as how you showed up on foot coming out of nowhere three years ago. We didn’t see any of your spaceships land until much later.”
She gave him a sly smile.
“We didn’t want to spook the heathens before they found out we were harmless monastics interested in reclaiming the priory on the hill.”
This time, Fenrir laughed uproariously.
“You got me there, Sister.”
“Back to this Crimple. Would he speak with one of us?”
He shrugged.
“If you make it worth his while, I’d say so. The man sells everything and anything, information included. But you can’t just wander over and knock on his door. It’s at least a two-week trip in a ship like mine with a better than even chance of sighting pirates in the Central Passage. If you’d rather avoid the Passage, it means going around the Saqqara Islands the long way. And at this time of the year, the seas are rough in both the northern and the southern latitudes. Even more so when you’re headed into the prevailing winds down south. There’s a reason we call them the Roaring Forties. As we mariners say, there’s no law below forty and no God below fifty, so it’s best we stick closer to the equator or go around to the north. A shame you don’t keep one of those spaceship shuttles for your own use.”
She put on a resigned air.
“Indeed, but we must be practical. Who’d maintain them? And where would we obtain fuel? One day, yes. In the meantime, travel across this world is by sail and Stirling engine, even for missionaries from Lyonesse.”
Fenrir took a sip of iced tea while studying Hermina with a calculating look she knew only too well from interacting with Theban merchant captains.
“If the priory can charter Aswan Trader, I’ll take you to Mazaber. My expenses, plus a small profit, perhaps paid in Lyonesse-manufactured goods I can use for barter at the other end. Say a five-week round trip.”
“And what would your expenses plus a small profit look like?”
“Nothing a fountain of modern wonders such as your priory can’t afford, Sister.”
Her smile returned.
“We don’t as yet manufacture those modern wonders. They come in via supply ships, which means finite quantities, especially since Hatshepsut is at the far end of Lyonesse’s network. But perhaps we can figure something out. In fact, if I turn the trip into a reconnaissance and see whether Mazaber might suit for a new mission in a few years—”
Fenrir’s snort cut her short.
“I can already tell you the answer is no. What’s the old expression for places like that? A cesspool of scum and villainy?”
“Something of the sort, but that’s where the Almighty is most needed, don’t you think? However, as I said, the trip could be a reconnaissance as well as finding out what this Dave Crimple knows about the provenance of your railguns.” She drained her glass. “But first, I’d like to examine the weapons along with Friar Metrobius, who served in the Lyonesse Defense Force as a young man and therefore knows more about them than anyone else here.”
“Metrobius, a soldier? He looks like everyone’s favorite uncle.”
“Spacer, actually. He was a petty officer back in the day, a boatswain’s mate trained in small arms handling. His time aboard starships gave him a deeper appreciation of the Void, and when his contract was up, he postulated with the Order.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “You and he have more in common than you may think. I’m sure you spend night watches staring at a clear, star-lit sky on occasion, no?”
Fenrir bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Some of my best memories are of reclining on the deck after full dark and looking up at a universe that once teemed with my fellow humans. It’s both awe-inspiring and depressing. So many dead.”
She made a sad face.
“Up to ninety percent of our species, most historians say. I’m not sure it was that dire, but the imperial records we collected on Lyonesse tell us Hatshepsut had upwards of five hundred million inhabitants in the final years. When our survey ship scanned this world five years ago, it picked up maybe fifty million distinct life signs. One-tenth of the original population, which means only one-tenth of that likely survived the Retribution Fleet after it scoured the major population centers. Five million out of five hundred million. Ninety-nine percent dead at Dendera’s hands. There is no hell deep enough for her rancid soul.”
“And yet we prevail.” Fenrir raised his glass before draining it. “While Dendera and her empire are gone. So, what’ll it be, Sister? A charter to Mazaber for a few of your Brethren?”
“Yes. You, me, and Metrobius will discuss the modalities after we examine your weapons.”
“Are you busy this afternoon?”
“What time?”
“Would fourteen-hundred suit?”
“It would. Thank you for trusting me with this, Lars. If the railguns didn’t come from Lyonesse but from another world that either survived the collapse or rebuilt at breakneck speed, it would mean a significant realignment of our efforts to rebuild a human community across the stars.”
“You make that sound ominous, Sister. Should I be worried?”
Hermina gave him a reassuring smile as she stood.
“No. Metrobius and I will see you this afternoon.”
Fenrir imitated her and bowed his head at the neck.
“Always a pleasure, Sister.”
“Likewise, and don’t worry. You brought us a mystery worth solving, and I thank you for it and for your honesty.”