To the question, what shall we do to be saved in this World? there is no other answer but this, Look to your Moat.
—George Sevile, Marquis of Halifax
The foolish will now ask and say: "What has made the faithful turn away from the qiblah toward which they used to pray?" Say: "To God belong the East and the West. He guides who so wills to the path that is straight."
—al-Qur'an
Hyperspace links only specific points. The time required to travel from one Alderson point to another is immeasurably short; but once that Jump has been made, the ship must proceed through normal space to the next Alderson point. This can take weeks to months depending on the Alderson geometry, ship speed, and logistics.
Sinbad was faster than most passenger liners, and Bury had arranged to be met by other ships of his fleet carrying supplies and fuel, so that Sinbad could go by the most direct route possible; and even so the trip lasted long enough to put everyone on edge. They remained polite; but everyone was glad that Sinbad's size allowed some privacy.
Yet Renner observed that the odd friendship between Bury and Buckman remained as strong as ever; and if the new Viceroy was tiring of being told stories of Imperial trade on the one hand, and the follies of Imperial science policy on the other, he showed no signs of it. Renner had long since taken to excusing himself quickly after the evening formal dinner.
He was glad to be able to announce the last Jump. "It'll be about midnight ship's time," he said. "Take your sleeping pills and you may sleep through it."
"I wish I could," Ruth Cohen said. "And I don't think I'll ever get used to Jump shock."
"You can sleep through it, but you won't get used to it," Renner said. "It's not something you can get used to. Anyway, this is the last for a while."
"One of my ships should be waiting," Bury said.
Renner nodded. "Yes, sir. They'll have been waiting awhile. We had a message saying it passed through three weeks ago."
Bury grimaced. "A costly rendezvous. Ah, well. Thank you, Kevin."
A thin, reedy voice rang through the ship, first in Arabic, then in Anglic. "Prayer is better than sleep! Come to prayer! I witness that the Lord our God is One God. I bear witness that there is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is the Prophet of Allah. Come to prayer. God is great! Prayer is better than sleep!"
Ruth Cohen sat bolt upright. "What in the world . . . ?"
The ship was in free-fall. The Velcro covers had held her snugly in the bed, and she'd got so used to gravity changes in the past few weeks that taking the spin off the ship hadn't awakened her. Must have been done smoothly. She realized she was alone in the bed. And I really did sleep through the Jump, too.
Kevin Renner floated in from the adjoining cabin as the thin singsong finally ceased. "Shh."
"But—"
"Horace has visitors. Partners, or relatives, both maybe, from Levant on the supply ship. Bury has Nabil play muezzin when he wants to look like a conventional Moslem. Sorry I couldn't warn you, we only found out when we docked ships, and I was busy then."
"But—"
Renner grinned. "They wouldn't appreciate that Sinbad's pilot sleeps with a concubine."
"I am not—"
"Well, I know that, and you know that, but they won't know that. Anyway, I take it back. They won't be shocked that I have a concubine. They might not be thrilled by your name."
"Name."
"You're from Dyan."
"I'm not from Dyan, I'm from New Washington."
"I know."
"And I am a Navy officer, on assignment." She looked down at her translucent harem set and tried to grin. "Well, not on duty just at the moment—Kevin, this is not funny."
"Well, maybe not. At least it wasn't hard to figure the direction."
"Kevin—"
"Point toward Earth and you're facing Jerusalem and Mecca both. No difference from here. Same qiblah."
"What has this got to do with anything?"
"I read up on it once," Renner said. "When Mohammed first went to Medina, he preached that the Jews and the Believers were one people, all descended from Abraham, and they'd all have one Messiah. Maybe himself, but that wasn't established. One God, Allah, who was the same as the Jewish Jehovah. Mohammed venerated the Torah. Prayed toward Jerusalem."
"Jerusalem? Kevin, why are we discussing this?"
"So you won't brood about being insulted."
"I still don't like it."
"Of course not. Neither does Bury. You're a guest. If you insist on acting like one, Bury will cooperate. God knows what it would cost him, though."
"Oh." Ruth pulled a sheet up to her chin and wriggled farther down into the covers holding her to the mattress. "All right. Tell me more. Are you making all this up?"
Renner smiled. "Nope. I'm told that in Medina there's a famous mosque, called the mosque of the Two Qiblahs—"
"Qiblah. Direction?"
"Yeah, aspect. Direction the mosque faces. Mohammed sent letters to the Jewish leaders inviting them to join him. They wouldn't. They said you had to be a son of Jacob to inherit the kingdom and get all the benefits of the prophecies, and Arabs didn't qualify since they were only sons of Abraham."
"And nobody cared about the daughters."
"Not a bit. But for a couple of years they faced Jerusalem, not Mecca, to do their prayers. But when the Jews rejected his offer, Mohammed brooded about it. One morning, Mohammed was in the middle of his prayers, facing Jerusalem, and all of a sudden he swung round to face Mecca. Everybody else did, too, of course. And that's why Arabs and Jews fight."
"I never heard that."
"True, though." Renner looked thoughtful. "Good thing, too. Can you imagine what would have happened to Europe if the Jews and the Moslems had been on the same side? Anyway that's the story of the Two Qiblahs. Now for the fun part."
"Fun part?"
"For the next two weeks we have this ship pretty well to ourselves. The supply ship isn't the only one Bury had meet him here. He's got a hospital ship that would make the Navy's doctors drool kittens. In about three hours, Horace and the Viceroy and Buckman are going to board Mercy of Allah, and by the time we get to New Ireland they'll be new men."
"Wow. Aren't you included?"
Renner grinned. "What's the matter, don't like the old one?"
"Well, my opinion's on record, but it doesn't seem hardly fair."
"But who'd keep you company? Actually, I got rebuilt just before we went to the Purchase. Time enough for touch-ups when we're in orbit and I don't have piloting duties. But we'll be pretty much alone with the staff most of the way into New Ireland."
"I suppose it's just as well. I'm not sure I want to be around a Kevin Renner with more energy than you've already got."
NEW CALEDONIA: Star system behind the Coal Sack with F8 primary star cataloged as Murcheson A. The distant binary, Murcheson B, is not part of the New Caledonia system. Murcheson A has six planets in live orbits, with four inner planets, a relatively wide gap containing the debris of an unformed planet, and two outer planets in a Trojan relationship. The four inner planets are named Concho-bar, New Ireland, New Scotland, and Fomor, in their order from the sun, which is known locally as Cal, or Old Cal, or the Sun. The two middle planets are inhabited, both terraformed by First Empire scientists after Jasper Murcheson, who was related to Alexander IV, persuaded the Council that the New Caledonian system would be the proper place to establish an Imperial university. It is now known that Murcheson was primarily interested in having an inhabited planet near the red supergiant known as Murcheson's Eye, and as he was not satisfied with the climate of New Ireland, he demanded the terraforming of New Scotland as well.
Fomor is a relatively small planet with almost no atmosphere and few interesting features. It does, however, possess several fungi that are biologically related to other fungi found in the Trans-Coal Sack sector.
The two outer planets occupy the same orbit and are named Dagda and Mider in keeping with the system's Celtic mythological nomenclature. Dagda is a gas giant, and the empire maintains fuel stations on the planet's two moons, Angus and Brigit. Merchant ships are cautioned that Brigit is a Navy base and may not be approached without permission.
"Which we won't need to do, thanks to Bury's supply ship," Renner said, wiping the screen. "We're good all the way to New Ireland."
NEW IRELAND: Second planet of the New Caledonia system. New Ireland was terraformed by First Empire scientists under the influence of Jasper Murcheson and was the original site of the Trans-Coal Sack branch of the Imperial University until the campus was moved to New Scotland.
The inhabitable areas of New Ireland are comparatively small and confined to the temperate-zone areas adjacent to the single major sea. Climate in the inhabitable zone is warm and pleasant. The soil is fertile and there are few insects or other predators. Crop yields are high.New Ireland joined the Secessionists and continued the war long
after both New Ireland and New Scotland had become isolated from
their respective allies. '"
Little industry has been rebuilt since the destruction sustained during the Secession Wars. This was originally due to opposition from New Scotland, but is now apparently the choice of the New Irish Parliament. Consequently New Ireland remains a backwater with tourism as the major source of hard currency.
New Ireland, and particularly the region known as Derry, is fiercely sought by Imperial Navy crews as a place for shore leave.
Sinbad's B lounge was an add-on pod the shape of a lima bean. Ruth Cohen had set the wall transparent. Andrew Mercer found her reading at a viewscreen, with stars blazing around her and the Coal Sack behind her. The blackness in the other direction was New Ireland's night side.
He'd been watching the Coal Sack on and off ever since Sinbad arrived in New Cal system. He preferred not to let himself know that the view made him uneasy. The vast black blot stretched across thirty degrees of sky, in the shape of a hooded man with one glowing red eye. Murcheson's Eye, the red supergiant, had a yellow fleck in it: the Mote. And Ruth was a child in the arms of the Hooded Man, her face eerily lit from underneath by the computer screen.
Mercer moved around her to see over her shoulder.
"Greetings, Your Highness," Ruth said.
"Not for two more hours. I don't become Viceroy until we land."
"But you've been in the New Cal system for three weeks. And I know you've been reading reports and sending instructions."
Mercer shrugged. "Two weeks of that was in the hands of Bury's djinni." He stretched. "Do I look different?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. Not much, but I can tell. I wonder how long Bury will keep Mercy here?"
"A while, I gather. He plans on some touch-ups. Thinking of taking a turn in the tank?"
"I just might once we settle in. It's not an opportunity I'll get very often. So tomorrow's the big day. Why New Ireland instead of New Scotland?"
"Actually, Sir Kevin suggested it. After I thought it over, it did seem a good idea to have the formal installation on New Ireland. Patch up the old wounds. Let the New Irish know they're accepted. Even if I can't begin work until we get to New Scotland."
"Well, Trujillo got here first."
"Eh?"
Ruth scrolled back to the beginning of the news squib. Mercer read over her shoulder.
Dateline Montenth 32, 3047, Derry, New Ireland, Mei-Ling Trujillo.
His Highness arrives tomorrow. Not only is this the first official visit of an Imperial Viceroy to New Ireland since the wars ended, but Arthur Calvin Mercer will be formally installed as Viceroy for His Majesty's Domains Beyond the Coal Sack in the New Ireland Parliament building.
The Government clearly expects this to be a big deal and has gone all out to bring in official guests to witness the event. There will be three days of official holiday. The New Cal branch of the Imperial Traders Association has arranged for fireworks and is paying for an all-day banquet.
There's no question that among the best people of New Ireland the installation will be the biggest show since INSS Terrible bombarded Derry and ended New Ireland's secession eighty years ago.
At tomorrow's ceremony the Fleet will be represented by three ships, the largest a light cruiser, It seems none of the others in the New Scotland naval yards is spaceworthy, When His Highness has had enough pomp and ceremony and wants to get to work, he might start by looking into the Yardmaster's records.
Meanwhile, for most of New Ireland it's business as usual, and an unusual business it is.
For fifty-six years the province of Derry has been visited by the Navy on leave. They were not always welcome; but they have always been the source of money, and money heals many wounds. Today Derry is famous for its welcome.
The scars from Terrible's visit have long disappeared. Elsewhere on the planet, much of Murcheson's careful terraforming has also disappeared, leaving vast desert regions. But from the top of Romance Crag, Derry still looks like farmland, miles of it in all directions. The town is not one clump; it stretches arms along the crests of the hills, with farmland below.
In the streets it is quite different . . .
The whores have a wholesome look. I questioned several, and I always had the feeling that they were laughing at me. Uncorrupted. Part of the answer is that I was never able to find one twice. "We come for a little day trip, and maybe we make some money. Then it's back to work with the pigs and the corn," Deirdre told me.
She knows who her father is. Jaynisse doesn't. Both thought it an odd question.
If you walk the streets of Derry, you'll find there aren't any brothels, but there are whole blocks of hotels that will provide rooms by the night or by the hour. Most of them have splendid room service.
It is estimated that the average Able Spacer will leave three months' pay on Derry. It you count in the petty officers, the average Navy man spends nearly eighteen hundred crowns here. It is, by the way, very much an average. The Navy people save for their visit here, but they also gamble heavily.
Navy men—I haven't found any women spacers who'll admit being interested in Derry—tend to spend heavily, but it isn't all wine and women. "I always go to the Dream Palace," the midshipman I'll call Carlos Meredith told me. "You can bring your own game cassettes and interface them and play the locals, Anything new from Sparta, the locals love it. I usually win for the first day."
Then he finds a girl and goes off to sleep and comes back the next day and loses what he has left. "The locals are pretty quick with a new game."
Ruth glanced up at Mercer. "There's more, but here's the tag." She skipped to the end of the file.
They find a lot to worry about in Government House, but in the Fleet there's only one topic of conversation. Will the new Viceroy close down Derry?
"Humpf," Mercer said.
"Sir?" Ruth asked.
"She can't mean that. No columnist could be dumb enough to think my first act would be to close the one thing that makes blockade duty tolerable."
"Oh."
"Not much work for you here," Mercer said. "No Outies anywhere, and I can't see how the Secret Service could learn more about the Mote. Maybe you'll find a plot on New Ireland."
"It may not be that funny. There aren't many active anymore, but the Rebel Alliance still exists, you know."
"They threw a bomb at Governor Smelev. But that was twenty years ago. I think the worst we have to worry about on New Ireland would be getting too far behind on our shots."
The intercom saved Ruth from having to answer. "They finally called," said Renner's voice. "All personnel, strap in. Ruth, come forward. You don't know how to steal a spacecraft until you can land it."
The inauguration ceremonies had begun at noon and lasted six hours. The celebrities had gone their own ways. Now trucks were moving between the barricades that lined Skid Street. The sun was still well up.
Kevin and Ruth strolled along the main drag. Here was the Falling Ship, a hotel made up of two-story buildings laid in squares, flowerbeds between, aerial ramps linking the roofs. Kevin wondered what they were charging for rooms with a view of Skid Street. A taller hotel could have made considerably better profits on a day like this . . . but nothing stood tall on New Ireland, not even the Palace.
The trucks were opening like flowers. Ruth and Kevin stopped to watch one unfold. In minutes it had become a bakery, and merrymakers were swarming to buy fresh bread. Kevin bought a loaf, tore off two pieces, and handed one to Ruth.
They ate. "All right. You don't get this on shipboard," Ruth said. "Let's find some fruit."
"Crudités?" Renner dropped what remained of the loaf and guided her to a vegetable stand. The trucks had all looked alike; now all the suddenly blooming stands were different, and the trucks within had vanished. They munched carrots and a head-sized radish as they walked.
"I smell meat," Kevin said. "That way."
"It's not all sex here," Ruth said.
The sudden market already swarmed with women, young and middle-aged, varying between comely and beautiful, but generally good-looking. Men in Navy uniforms stopped to talk and found ready companionship. "I never did get shore leave on New Ireland," Kevin said. "We all knew it was what we wanted. Family cooking, fresh food, and wholesome sex. Hard to say which a Navy man wants more, after a year eating bioplast and yeast steaks. And marijuana. Even a little borloi. They told me you can get drunk, too, but you have to go looking for liquor, and it isn't in the rituals, if you follow me. No bars."
"And you're finally in Derry, but there's a woman hanging on your arm."
"I'll tough it out somehow. And there's dinner. What the blazes is it? Or was it?"
A carcass roughly the size of an ox was roasting over a fire. Right here in the street? Yes, but the fire was sitting on ribbed metal, the fold-down side of another truck. New Irish kept things neat. The burly proprietor cut them two slices and sealed them in plastic. They walked on.
"Speaking of sex," Kevin said, "what did you think of Trujillo?"
"I guess that look never goes out of style."
"Eh?"
"No makeup. You probably thought she was careless. Look like a mouse, but wear a thin dress and no underwear. It turns men on. Worked on you, didn't it?"
"Point taken."
Ruth sighed. "It only works when you're young. Maybe I will take Bury up on his offer. Look, jugglers."
"Did you like her?"
"Trujillo? I'm not supposed to like her. She's no friend to the Navy. But the real answer is I didn't get much chance to talk to her."
"You will."
"Kevin?"
"Weeks ago she requested passage to the Crazy Eddie Squadron. We all decided she could ride aboard Sinbad."
"Oh."
"Bury's idea. He wants to convert her into a Motie hater." Renner chuckled. "Fresh blood for His Excellency. Mercer heard Horace's spiel so often he was ready to scream if anyone mentioned the Moties. He already sent a letter of invitation."
"Hmm. And you won't say whether she turns you on. I think I'd better do some shopping. Or should I bother?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning we both know this doesn't last forever. Getting tired of me?"
"Not yet. Want out?"
"Not yet." She nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. "We'll leave it that way, then."
Renner took out his pocket computer. "According to Ms. Trujillo's article, the Brick Moon serves artichokes eighteen different ways. Room service in the hotel next door. Interested?"
"Mmm. Dammit, you've got me thinking like you."
"How so?"
"I want to see how the clerk acts when he sees you walk in with off-planet competition."