Гордон Диксон - Soldier, Ask Not

“I’m afraid—” He put his hands on the glass top of the case. They were veined with the years. “You wanted to buy something?”

“I’m willing to pay in good will,” I said, “for information.”

His hands slid off the countertop.

“Sir.” He sighed a little. “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong store.”

“I’m sure I am,” I said. “But your store’ll have to do. We’ll pretend it’s the right store and I’m talking to someone who’s a member of the Blue Front.”

He shook his head slowly and stepped back from the case.

“The Blue Front is illegal,” he said. “Good-bye, sir.”

“In a moment. I’ve got a few things to say first.”

“Then I’m sorry.” He retreated toward some drapes covering a doorway. “I can’t listen. No one will come into this room with you, sir, as long as you talk like that.”

He slipped through the drapes and was gone. I looked around the long, empty room.

“Well,” I said a little more loudly, “I guess I’ll have to speak to the walls. I’m sure the walls can hear me.”

I paused. There was no sound.

“All right,” I said. “I’m a correspondent. All I’m interested in is information. Our assessment of the military situation here on St. Marie”—and here I told the truth—“shows the Friendly Expeditionary Forces abandoned by their home headquarters and certain to be overrun by the Exotic forces as soon as the ground dries enough for heavy equipment to move.”

There was stili no answer, but the back of my neck knew they were listening and watching me.

“As a result,” I went on—and here I lied, though they would have no way of knowing—“we consider it inevitable that the Friendly Command here will have got in contact with the Blue Front. Assassination of enemy commanders is expressly in violation of the Mercenaries’ Code and the Articles of Civilized Warfare—but civilians could do what soldiers could not.”

Still there was no sound or movement beyond the drapes.

“A news representative,” I said, “carries Credentials of Impartiality. You know how highly these are held. I only want to ask a few questions. And the answers will be kept confidential.”

For a last time I waited, and there was still no answer. I turned and went up the long room and out. It was not until I was well out on to the street that I let the feeling of triumph within spread out and warm me.

They would take the bait. People of their sort always did. I found my car and drove to Exotic Headquarters.

These were outside the town. There a mercenary Commandant named Janol Marat took me in charge. He conducted me to the bubble structure of their HQ building. There was a feel of purpose, there, a sure and cheerful air of activity. They were well armed, well trained. After the Friendlies it jumped at me. I said so to Janol.

“We’ve got a Dorsai Commander and we outnumber the opposition.” He grinned at me. He had a deeply tanned, long face that went into creases as his lips curved up. “That makes everybody pretty optimistic. Besides, our Commander gets promoted if he wins. Back to the Exotics and staff rank—out of field combat for good. It’s good business for us to win.”

I laughed and he laughed.

“Tell me more, though,” I said. “I want reasons I can use in the stories I send back to News Services.”

“Well”—he answered the snappy salute of a passing Groupman, a Cassidan by the look of him—“I guess you might mention the usual—the feet our Exotic employers don’t permit themselves to use violence and consequently they’re always rather generous than otherwise when it comes to paying for men and equipment. And the OutBond—that’s the Exotic Ambassador to St. Marie, you know—”

“I know.”

“He replaced the former OutBond here three years ago. Anyway, he’s something special, even for someone from Mara or Kultis. He’s an expert in ontogenetic calculations. If that means much to you. It’s all over my head.” Janol pointed. “Here’s the Field Commander’s office. He’s Kensie Graeme.”

“Graeme?” I said, frowning. I could have admitted to knowing about Kensie Graeme, but I wanted Janol’s reactions to him. “Sounds familiar.” We approached the office building. “Graeme …”

“You’re probably thinking of another member of the same family.” Janol took the bait. “Donal Graeme. A nephew. Kensie is Donal’s uncle. Not as spectacular as the young Graeme, but I’ll bet you’ll like him better than you would the nephew. Kensie’s got two men’s likableness.” He looked at me, grinning slightly again.

“That supposed to mean something special?” I said.

“That’s right,” said Janol. “His own likableness and his twin brother’s, too. Meet Ian Graeme sometime when you’re in Blauvain. That’s where the Exotic embassy is, east of here. Ian’s a dark man.”

We walked into the office.

“I can’t get used,” I said, “to how so many Dorsai seem related.”

“Neither can I. Actually, I guess it’s because there really aren’t so many of them. The Dorsai’s a small world, and those that live more than a few years—” Janol stopped by a Commandant sitting at a desk. “Can we see the Old Man, Hari? This is a Newsman from the Interstellar News Services.”

“Why, I guess so.” The other looked at his desk signal board. “The OutBond’s with him, but he’s just leaving now. Go on in.”

Janol led me between the desks. A door at the back of the room opened before we reached it and a calm-faced man of middle age wearing an Exotic’s blue robe, and close-cropped white hair, came out. His odd, hazel-colored eyes met mine.

It was Padma.

“Sir,” said Janol to Padma, “this is—”

“Tam Olyn. I know,” said Padma softly. He smiled up at me, and those eyes of his seemed to catch light for a moment and blind me. “I was sorry to learn about your brother-in-law, Tam.”

I went quite cool all over. I had been ready to walk on, but now I stood stock still and looked at him.

“My brother-in-law?” I said.

“The young man who died near Dhores on New Earth.”

“Oh, yes,” I said between stiff lips. “I’m surprised that you’d know.”

“I know because of you, Tam.” Once more the hazel eyes of Padma seemed to catch light. “Have you forgotten? I told you once that we have a science called ontogenetics, by which we calculate the probabilities of human actions in present and future situations. You’ve been an important factor in those calculations for some time.” He smiled. “That’s why I was expecting to meet you here, and now. We’ve calculated you into our present situation here on St. Marie, Tam.”

“Have you?” I said. “Have you? That’s interesting.”

“I thought it would be,” said Padma softly. “To you, especially. Someone like a Newsman, like yourself, would find it interesting.”

“It is,” I said. “It sounds like you know more than I do about what I’m going to be doing here.”

“We’ve got calculations,” said Padma in his soft voice, “to that effect. Come see me in Blauvain, Tam, and I’ll show you.”

“I’ll do that,” I said.

“You’ll be very welcome.” Padma inclined his head. His blue robe whispered on the floor as he turned and went out of the room.

“This way,” said Janol, touching my elbow. I started as if I had just wakened from a deep sleep. “The Commander’s in here.”

I followed him automatically into an inner office. Kensie Graeme stood up as we came through the door. For the first time I stood face to face with this great, lean man in field uniform, with a heavy-boned, but open, smiling face under black, slightly curly hair. That peculiar golden warmth of personality—a strange thing in a Dorsai—seemed to flow out from him as he rose to meet me and his long-fingered, powerful hand swallowed mine in a handshake.