Jack Vance - Ecce and Old Earth

“That is hard to say.”

Smonny made inquiries among the antiquarians and discovered one of the stolen documents. It was part of a lot sold off by a collector named Floyd Swaner. Smonny traced him down but it was too late; Floyd Swaner was dead. His heir and grandson Eustace Chilke was said to be something of a ne'er-do-well, always on the move, here and there, far and wide. His present whereabouts were unknown.

On Rosalia, labor was scare. Smonny contracted with Namour for a workforce of indentured Yips, and in such a fashion renewed her connection with Cadwal.

Namour and Smonny evolved a wonderful new scheme. Calyactus, Oomphaw of Yipton, had become old and foolish. Namour persuaded him to visit Rosalia for medical treatments which would renew his youth. At Shadow Valley Ranch Calyactus was poisoned; Titus Zigonie, calling himself Titus Pompo, became Oomphaw in his stead.

Smonny's investigators finally discovered Eustace Chilke working as a tour-bus operator at Seven Cities on John Prestons World. As soon as possible Smonny introduced herself to Chilke and hired him to supervise Shadow Valley Ranch. She finally decided to marry him, but Chilke politely declined the honor. Smonny became peevish and dismissed Chilke from his position. Namour ultimately look him to Araminta Station.

Smonny and Namour are an amazing pair," wrote Floreste. “Nether have any scruples whatever, though Namour likes to pose as a gentleman of culture, and for a fact is a personable fellow, with many odd competences. He can force his body to obey the steel of his will. Think! He has acted the role of complaisant lover for both Spanchetta and Smonny, managing both affairs aplomb. Namour, if for no other reason than your superb daring, I salute you!

“So little time is left to me! Were I to live I would compose a heroic ballet, for three principals, representing Smonny, Spanchetta and Namour! Ah, the stately evolutions of my principals I see the patterns clearly; they swing, whirl, come and go, with the awful Justice of Fate! The music I hear in my mind's ear; it is poignant indeed, and the costumes are extraordinary! So goes the dance! The three figures project sentience, and conduct their perambulations with care. I see them now: they circle and go, up-stage and down, mincing and preening, each at his proper gait. How shall the finale be resolved?

It is all a bagatelle. Why should I trouble my poor mind over such a question? I shall not be here to direct the production.”

Again Bodwyn Wook paused in his reading. “Perhaps we should have allowed Floreste time to complete this last production it sounds fascinating!”

“I find it tiresome, “said Glawen.

“You are either too young or too practical for such appreciation. Floreste's mind seethes with intriguing notions.”

“He takes a long time getting to the point: that is certain.”

“Aha! Not from Floreste's viewpoint. This is his testament: his entire reason for being. This is not casual frivolity that you hear but a wail of utter grief.” Bodwyn Wook returned to the letter. “I shall read on. Perhaps he is now in the mood to recite a fact or two."

Floreste's tone was indeed somewhat flatter. Before Glawens return to Araminta Station, Floreste had visited Yipton to plan a new round of entertainments. Thurben Island could no longer be used, and another more convenient location must be selected. During a conversation, Titus Pompo, loose-tongued by reason of too many Trelawny Sloshes, revealed that Smonny had at last settled an old score. She had captured Scharde Clattuc, confiscated his flyer, and taken him to her prison. Titus gravely shook his head. Scharde would pay dearly for the prideful attitudes which had cost Smonny such grief! As the flyer, it represented partial compensation for the flyers destroyed by the Bureau B raid. After drinking from his goblet, Titus Pompo asserted that it would not be the last flyer so confiscated!

“We will see about that” said Bodwyn Wook.

Scharde had been taken to the strangest of all prisons where 'out was in' and 'in was out’. The prisoners were at liberty to attempt escape whenever the mood came on them.

Bodwyn Wook paused in his reading to pour out two mugs of ale.

“That is a strange prison,” said Glawen. “Where could it be located?”

“Let us proceed. Floreste is perhaps a bit absentminded, but I suspect that he will not omit this important detail.”

Bodwyn Wook read on. Almost at once Floreste identified the unique prison as the dead volcano Shattorak at the center of Ecce: an ancient cone rising two thousand feet above the swamps and jungles. The prisoners occupied a strip outside the stockade which encircled the summit and protected the prison officials. The jungle grew high up the slopes; the prisoners slept in tree-houses or behind makeshift stockades to avoid the predators from the jungle. By reason of Smonny's vindictiveness, Scharde had not been killed out of hand.

Titus Pompo, now thoroughly drunk, went on to reveal that five flyers were concealed at Shattorak, together with a cache of weapons. From time to time, when Smonny wished to travel off-world, Titus Pompo's Clayhacker space yacht landed upon Shattorak, taking care to avoid the Araminta Station radar. Titus Pompo was quite content with his pleasant routines at Yipton: an amplitude of rich food; sloshes, slings, punches and toddles; incessant massaging and stroking worked upon him by Yip maidens.

"That is all I know" wrote Floreste. “Despite my happy relations with Araminta Station where I had hoped to build my great monument, I felt, rightly or wrongly, that I should not betray Titus Pompo's drunken confidences, for this reason: they would surely be revealed of themselves soon and without my intercession. You may consider this qualm weak-minded and maudlin. You will insist that ‘right is right' and any deviation or skulkery or failure to bear the burdens of virtue are ‘not right'. At this moment I shall not disagree.

“To make a feeble demonstration on my own behalf I will point out that I am not utterly faithless. As best I could, I paid my obligation to Namour, who would not have done the same for me. Of all men, he probably deserves consideration the least, and he is no less guilty than I. Still, in my lonely and foolish way, I have kept faith and allowed him time to make good his flight. I trust that he never troubles Araminta Station again, since it is a place dear to my heart, where I planned the Araminta Center for the Performing Arts: the new Orpheum. I have transgressed, but so I justify my peccancies.

“It is too late for tears of penitence. They would not in any case carry conviction — not even to myself. Still, when all is said and done, I see that I die not so much for my venality as for my folly. These are the most dismal words known to man: “Ah, what might have been, had only I been wiser!”

“Such is my apologia. Take it or leave it as you will. I am overcome by weariness and a great sadness; I can write no more.”

Wook placed the letter carefully down upon his desk. “So much for Floreste. He has declared himself. If nothing else, he knew how to contrive exquisite excuses for himself. But to proceed. The situation is complex and we carefully consider our response. Yes, Glawen? You have an opinion?"

“We should strike Shattorak at once."

“Why so?”

“To rescue my father, of course!"

Bodwyn Wook nodded sagely. “That concept is at least simple and uncomplicated: so much can be said for it."

"That’s good to hear. Where does the idea go wrong?"

“It is a reflex, prompted by Clattuc emotion rather than cool Wook intellect.” Glawen growled something under his breath which Bodwyn Wook ignored. “I remind you that Bureau B is essentially an administrative agency, which has been pressed to perform quasi-military functions only by default. At best, we can deploy two or three dozen operatives: all highly trained, valuable men. There are how many Yips? Who knows? Sixty thousand? Eighty thousand? A hundred thousand? Far too many.”