David Weber & Steve White - Starfire 01 - Insurrection

David Weber - Starfire 1 - The Insurrection

GALE WARNING

Ladislaus Skjorning frowned at his watch and rescanned the sparsely-peopled to ate-night ante-room of

Federation Hall, but there was no sign of Greuner. It was unlike him to be late, add, from the code

phrase, his news was urgent, so where was he?

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned slowly, one hand moving unobtrusively to the small

slug thrower in the sleeve of his loose tunic of Beaufort seawool. A man faced him in the conservative

informal dress of New Zurich's upper classes but it wasn't Greuner. Greuner was a little man; this fellow

rivaled Skjorning's own 202 centimeters, and, unlike many Corporate Worlders, he looked fit and mean.

Ladislaus eyed him with hidden distaste, and the muzzle of the invisible slug gun settled on the

newcomer's navel.

"Mister Skjorning?" "Aye, I'm to be Skjorning." Ladislaus" deep voice sawed across the thin New Zurich

accent like a doomwhale catcher through fog.

"Mister Greuner sends his regrets." "Not to come?" Ladislaus asked siowlv, broad face expressionless as

scorn for his uncouth dialect flared in the Corporate Worlder's mocking eyes. He plowed on like an

icebreaker, pandering to the man's contempt. "Would it chance he's to be sending a wording why not?"

"Illness, I believe." The Corporate Worlder's mouth was a thin slash of dislike as he eyed the bearded

giant.

Skjorning was a Titan for any world--- especially a heavy gray planet, even one whose chill temperatures

favored large people--but the one huge hand he could see was a laborer's, thick-knuckled and scarred

by a childhood with the nets and a young manhood with the purse seines and harpoons.

"Not to be serious, I'm hoping," Ladislaus said sadly.

"I'm afraid it may be. In fact, I believe he's decided to return to New Zurich for.., treatment." "I'm to see.

Well, grateful I'm to be for your wording, Mister--his" "Fouchet," the tall man said briefly.

"Aye, Fouchet. Remembered to me you'll be, Mister Fouchet." Skjorning turned away with a bovine

nod, and Fouchet watched him enter a deserted washroom. He started to follow, then stopped and

turned on a scornful heel. Whatever Greuner might have thought, that thick-witted prole was no danger.

The washroom door eased slowly open behind him, and one brilliant blue eye followed his retreating

back. The slug gun eased back into xs sleeve clip regretfully, and Skjorning stepped out of the

washroom.

"Aye, Mister Fouchet," he said softly, barely a trace of accent coloring his voice, "I'll remember you."

Fionna MacTaggart looked away from her terminal and rubbed her eyes wearily, then glanced at the

dock and allowed herself a crooked grin. Old Terran days were tiresomely short for someone reared to

the thirty-two hour Beaufort day. The air was bothersomely thin, and the gravity was irksomely low, but

one could grow used to anything, including feeling tired at such a ridiculously early hour. She rose and

poured a cup of Terran coffee, one of the only two things about the motherworld she would truly miss

when she finally returned to Beaufort for good.

A chime sounded, and she crooked a speculative eyebrow and pressed the admittance key. The door

hissed open, and Ladislaus Skjorning towered on the threshold, his blue eyes bright with annoyance.

"Damn it, Chiefl" Mister Fouehet would never have recognized his tone. "You're still not checking ID'S!"

"No, Itm not," Fionna said coolly. "Not inside our own enclave, anyway. Nor am I meeting guests at the

door with a laser in my hand." She shook her head with mock severity. "Sometimes I think all this

security nonsense is going to your head, Lad." "Do you, now?" Ladislaus sank into one of the recliners,

his anger ebbing, and closed his eyes wearily. Fionna's face tightened with sudden concern. "I wish our

friend Greuner shared your opinion.".

"He didn't show?" Fionna" knelt on the recliner next to him and massaged one taut shoulder.

"No," he said softly.

"Fhey got to him, is it?" she asked, equally softly. "Aye. Hustled him back to New Zurich--I hope. But

there's little to be putting past a Corporate Worlder who smells gelt, Chief." She felt him relaxing as her

strong fingers iug the tension from him, then frowned and stopped massaging, leaning her forearms on his

massively muscled shoulder.

"You're right, Lad. I just wish I knew what he had for "I feel the same," Ladislaus rumbled, allowing

himself a frown, "but let's be grateful for what he already gave us. He turned from his own to be helping

us because he thought it right; now I've the thinking he's to be paying for it soon and late." "I know, Lad.

I know." She patted his shoulder, smiling contritely, and he felt a surge of guilt. It was hard enough

heading a Fringe World delegation without your own people snapping at you. Besides, Fionna was fight

to worry. The one clue they had to Greuner's message was the phrase "Gale Warning," and that was the

code he and the little man had arranged to indicate a major Corporate World offensive against the

Fringe.

"I did pick up something a mite useful," he proffered as a peace offering. 'rhe name of the new New

Zurich bully boy, I'm to be thinking.

Fouchet. A tall, mean son-of-a sand-leech with a face like boiled blubber." "He's their new security

chief?." Fionna asked, eyes narrowing.

"Chief, you know they're not to be using such titles] They're not so crude as that--heql to be called

Computerman's Syndic or some such. But, aye, he's the one.

And had he just a little more curiosity or a little less brain--mind, I'm not sure which it was--it's squeezing

Greuner's information from him I'd be the now." "Lad," Fionna said sternly, "I've told you we can't

operate that way! They already call us 'barbarians". What do you think they'll call us if you start acting

like that?" "Aye? I don't have the thinking it's to mind me the much," Ladislaus said, laying the accent with

a trowel. "It's maybe "Corporate Worlder" they're to call me if I have the doing of their own against them.

And where's the difference to lie? Yon Corporate Worlder flays his whales with money, Chief; I'm only

after the doing of it by hand." Fionna started to reply tartly, then stopped.

She and Ladislaus had grown up together on the cold and windy seas of Beaufort, and she knew it irked

him to play the homespun fool for men like Fouchet--but she also knew he recognized the advantages of

his role. During his time in the Federation's navy, Ladislaus had acquired a cosmopolitanism at odds with

the Innerworld notion of a Fringer, though, like anyone, he tended to revert to the speech patterns of

childhood under stress. The slow Beaufort accent had drawn attention even in the Fleet, where such

idosyncrasies were far from rare, and Lad had learned the hard way to speak excellent Standard English.

But his' sense of humor had stood him in good stead, and he'd also learned to ape the stereotype so well

few of his victims ever realized they were being hoodwinked. He found his hayseed persona useful as

head of security for the Beaufort delegation, and he usually enjoyed it. Yet it seemed this latest episode

had cracked his normal shield of humor. He'd evidently become closer to Greuner than she'd thought..,

and he was right, damn it! The little banker had jeopardized his career, certainly, and possibly his life, to

help worlds he'd never even visited--and now he'd pay for it. She felt a sudden hot stinging behind her

own eyes, and her hands squeezed his shoulder in silence until she felt the new tension run slowly out of

them both onc more.

A ('ow, murmuring rumble filled the chamber, and Fionna MaeTaggart looked across from her console at

the tall podium in the center of the vast hemispherical room. It stood over two hundred meters from her

seat in the center o pounds the Beau pounds rt delegation, separated om the ranked tiers o pounds

delegates by a floor of ebon marble shot with white veins like tangled skeins o pounds stars. Ater

twenty-five years in the Assembly--twenty o pounds them as head of her planet's delegation-- Fionna

had learned the bitter, sordid realities o the Federation's government, but the Chamber of Worlds still

took her breath away. She wished she could have seen it when the Assembly had lived up to its promise,

hut not even the gangrenous present of partisanship and exploitation could diminish the grandeur o

pounds the ideal this chamber had been built to enshrine.

Her eyes swept over upward-soaring walls hung with the flags and banners o pounds scores of planetal

systems, all dominated by the space-black Federation banner with its golden sunburst, and the blue

planet and white moon o* the homeworld.The air stirred coolly against her skin as she adjusted her

hushphone headset over her red hair. Ladislaus was going to he to ate ff he didn't get a move on.

A tiny light glowed on her panel as the Sergeant at Arms warned her a member o pounds her delegation

was on his way, and she looked up, hiding a smile as Skjorning lumbered down the aisle. Thank Cod

none of their constituents ever visited Old Terra! They'd have a fit ff they ever saw the role Ladislaus had

assumed so well.

The big man sidled bashfully through the crowd in a state of perpetual embarrassment, then sank gratellly

into the chair at Fionna's left hand and leaned forward to fumble clumsily with his hushphone.

"Any clues, Lad?" she asked softly.

"No, Chief." Ladislaus' lips barely moved. "Only the code, and it's a seaharrower's own luck that much

got to US.

Fionna rowned and nodded in agreement. She started to say something more, but the echo o pounds a

soft chime cut her short.

The Legislative Assembly of the Terran Federation was in session.

Fionna fidgeted uneasily as the opening formalities filtered past her. She could see the Galloway's World

delegation from where she sat, and Simon Taliaferro wasn't in his usual place. The New Zurich delegation

was less than ten meters away, and she noted sinkingly that Oskar Dieter wasn't with his fellows, either.

Whatever Greuner had tried to warn them of, those two would be at the heart of it. Her fingers flew over

her information console, keying their names and punching up a cross index of the committees on which

they sat, for she'd learned long since that it was in the closed committee meetings that the Corporate

Worlds wove their webs.

The screen lit, confirming her memory. Both men were from populous worlds; combined with their

personal seniority in the Assembly and the "representative membership" committee rules the Corporate

Worlds had rammed through twelve years ago, that gave them membership on dozens of committees...

including shared membership on Foreign Relations and Military Oversight. She frowned. blot only was

each a member of both, but Taliaferro chaired Foreign Relations and Dieter chaired Military Oversight. It

was an ominous combination.

The Clerk finished the formalities of the last session's minutes and stepped aside for David Haley. By long

tradi-t'ion, the Speaker of the Legislative Assembly was a citizen of Old Terra, and Fionna listened to his

beautiful Standard English as he turned the Assembly to business, wishing' his office still had the power it

once had. Unlike most of his Heart World fellows, Haley had traveled to the Fringe; he knew the hostility

and hatred for the Corporate Worlds festering on the Fringe Worlds--and what was happening under the

false cordiality of the delegates' relations.

Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it.

"Ladies and Genfiemen of the Assembly," Haley said, "the Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee

has requested a dosed session of the Assembly sitting as a committee of the whole. Are there any

objections?" Fionna keyed her console and saw Haley glance down as her light pulsed on his panel. Then

he looked out over the sea of faces to the Beaufort delegation, and his face vanished from the giant

screen behind the podium, replaced by Fionna's, though his image continued to stare up from the small

screen before each delegate.

"The Chair recognizes the Honorable Assemblywoman for Beaufort," he said, and Fionna's headset

beeped to indicate a live mike.

"Mister Speaker, this is highly irregular," she said quietly. "I would ask why the Chairman of the Foreign

Relations Committee feels the need for a closed session? And why we were not informed in advance?"

The faee on her console screen was dearly unhappy. Haley was too experienced to show his emotions

openly, but the assemblymen were too experienced not to read him anyway.

"Ms. MacTaggart, I can only tell you that the Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee and Minister

of Foreign Affairs Assad jointly have requested the Assembly's attention to a matter of grave import.

That is all the information I have. Do you wish to object to the request for closure?" Fionna certainly did,

but it would accomplish little, since she would know no more about Taliaferro's plans after blocking the

secret session than she did now. Damn him! Despite the warning, he'd managed to keep her completely

in the dark!

"No, Mister Speaker," she said softly. "I have no objection." "Is there any debate?" Haley asked. There

was none, and the Speaker gaveled the Assembly into secret session.

The chamber buzzed with side conversations as the Sergeant at Arms and his staff escorted the news

people out. The great doors boomed softly shuLike and sophisticated anti-snooping defenses were set in

motion. There would be no way for the outside world to discover what was said or done here unless a

delegate leaked the word. Such "accidental leaks" were far from uncommon these days, though they

once had been. As the Fringer population base had slowly grown to challenge the Corporate Worlds'

domination of the Assembly, the campaign of secret slander and counter-slander had taken on vicious

overtones.

Initially, the Outworlders had been at a considerable disadvantage, but Fionna was almost saddened by

how well they'd learned to play the game since. Onlv this time, leaks wouldn't be enough. Greuner's

disappeaiance proved that.

Two new figures appeared beside Haley. One was Oskar Dieter, though he was as careful as ever to

stay in the background. The other was Simon Taliaferro, possibly the man the Fringers hated most of all.

Taliaferro could have been prime minister, but his posio t'ion as head of his delegation was more useful,

and he would have been forced to resign it to accept the premiership. On the other hand, he could never

have been president, for that largely gelded office was still decided by direct election. As heir to one of

the shipbuilding dynasties which had used political power to cement its stranggg'eo hold on the

Outworlds' commerce, he could never have carried enough of the popular vote. Ninety percent of all

Federation cargo moved in hulls owned by Corporate World shipping magnates, yet over sixty percent

of the Federation's systems lay in the Fringe and Rim. Which was why Taliaferro was hated... and why

he was prepared to embrace any expedient to stave off the rapidly-approaching day when the Fringe's

delegates would be numerous enough to demand an accounting for two centuries of economic

exploitation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Haley said, "the Chair recognizes the Honorable Simon Taliaferro, Delegate for

Galloway's World and Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee.

Mister Taliaferro." "hank you, Mister Speaker." Taliaferro's dark face was incongruously jovial on the

huge screen, and Fionna's lips curled with dislike.

It was like a badly crafted disguise, she thought. A threadbare mask for the ruthless brilliance under that

jolly exterior--yet the rules of the game required one to pretend his bonhomie was real.

"Members of the Assembly," Taliaferro said, "I bring you great news! After months of negotiation, I can

now tell you that perhaps the most momentous departure in the history of the Galaxy has been proposed.

President Zhi and Prime Minister Minh have received a direct communication from the Khan of the

Orions, borne by a fully empowered plenipotentiary." He paused for effect, knowing he'd gathered the

eyes and ears of every delegate.

'le Khan proposes nothing less than the amalgamation of the Terran Federation and the Khanate of

Orion!" His voice rose steadily through the last sentence, but it was almost, lost in the roar which burst

forth at the word "amalgamation," and Fionna was on her feet, one fist clenched on the top of her

console.

"No.t" she shouted, but her voice was lost in the uproar. It was just as well, she realized a moment later.

She was the leader of the Fringe Caucus. She must appear calm and reasonable. Above all, reasonable[

Yet such a proposal would be intolerable to her constituents, and the Corporate Worlds knew it. In fact,

only those fit-headed, liberal-minded, bureaucracy-worshiping ,Heart Worlders could be so blind as to

think the Fringe wouldn't fight this!

Her eyes narrowed as she sank back into her seat. Of course the Corporate Worlds knew, and

Taliaferro's obvious delight made cold, ugly sense. How was the huge population of the Khanate to fit

into th new, amalgamated monster? were the Orions suddenly to find themselves enfranchised to vote for

the first time in theft history? It had takest over a century of slow, painful population growth in the

outwodds to earn the delegates to challenge the Corporate Worlds. With such a huge influx of votes, the

Assembly would have no choice but to cut the representational basis... which would just coincidentally

gerrymander the sparse Fringe population out of the representation it had finally gained.

Just who, she wondered, had proposed what to whom?

Had the Orions conceived this on their own? Or had the Corporate Worlds suggested it to them? Or had

they, perhaps, simply misled the Khan's ambassadors into thinking the proposal would be joyfully

accepted throughout the Federation? There were too many possibilities and too few answers--yet.

She pressed her ear button. Haley's panel must be bloody with scores of red attention lights, and she

almost hoped Taliaferro would refuse to yield to her. But he would, ff only to give her the opportunity to

cot her own throat, and, in a way, it would be a relief to take a stand, whatever the outcome. She had no

choice but to voice the Fringe's position.., and it was time, part of her cried, to have done with careful

maneuvering. It was time to speak from the heart.

"Mister Speaker," Taliaferro's amplified voice cut through the uproar, "I yield temporarily to the

Honorable Assem-blywoman for Beaufort!" The background noise died instantly as Fionna appeared on

the giant screen, and her green eyes flashed fire.

"Mister Speaker," her voice was dear and strong, "I must tell the Honorable Assemblyman for

Galloway's World that he has made a grievous error ff he expects every Federation citizen to greet this

proposal with loud hosannas! No one in the Federation has more respect for the Orions than we of the

Fringe. We have fought against them and beside them.

We admire their courage, their fortitude, and their spirit. They have their own claims to greatness: the first

race to hypothesize the possibility of warp travel; the first to create a stellar empire; and the first to

recognize the inevitable end result of blind militarism and turn away from it. But, Mister Speaker, they are

Orions--and we here represent the Terran Federation! We represent a society forged, in part, in combat

against the Orions, one which has made for itself a place second to none in the known Galaxy. And,

Mister Speaker--was her long anger and frustration burned in her throat as she hurled the final words at

Taliaferro his-comthe Fringe will never consent to this so-called amalgamation!" She sat down abruptly,

and the Chamber of Worlds went berserk.

Soft, somehow mournful music swirled like the sea as Fionna stood at the head of the receiving line,

smiling and gracious despite her exhaustion. The last week had been a nightmare, and only the

extravagance of her personal exertions had held the Fringe bloc together. It wasn't that any delegation

favored the proposed amalgamation; the reverse was true-they were angry with her for not taking a more

extreme position.

But if twenty-five years in the Assembly had taught her anything, it was that the Heart Worlds didn't

understand the Fringe. The Corporate Worlders knew their outworld cousins and enemies far better than

the motherworld and its oldest colonies did, though she suspected not even the Corporate Worlds fully

realized the fulminating anger they were fanning. But the Heart Worlds were too far removed from their

own frontier days. They'd forgotten what it was like to know that any ,outside attack must come through

their systems to reach the heart of empire. As they'd forgotten--ff they'd ever known--whichat it was to

have their commerce, the lifeblood of their societies, manipulated and exploited by predatory mercharts

with a yen for power.

And because they had forgotten or did not know, they were a terrible danger to the Fringe. Fionna had

seen the "new liberalism" of her Heart World colleagues. The Heart Worlds had it too good, she thought

bitterly; they were too content, too ultracivilized. The Corporate Worlds could convince them the Fringe

really was peopled by uncouth barbarians but little removed from outright savagery.

Worse, they could be convinced to do what was "best" for the Fringe even ff it killed the object of their

kindness!

Knowing that, she also knew it was imperative to convince the Heart Worlds of the Fringe's maturity.., or

at least open-mindedness. The position she'd taken was the strongest she could take.

The firebrands who longed to denounce the Corporate Worlds openly, to point the accusing finger where

it so richly deserved to be pointed, would play straight into Taliaferro's and Dieter's hands, but only one

Fringer could convince them of that. Fionna MaeTaggart wasn't a vain woman, yet she knew no one else

among the Fringe delegates had the prestige and power base she'd built against this very day.

Of all the Fringe Worlds, Beaufort, perhaps, most despised Corporate Worlders. Beaufort's heavy

gravity had not been kind to its colonizers, despite their selection for high pressure tolerance, yet there

had been fierce compe-fit'ion for space on the colony ships. The rebels of the Corporate Worlds, those

who could no longer tolerate their roles as cogs in the vast machines, had seen in Beaufort a world poor

enough and distant enough to be secure from manipulation and control. They'd gone to Beaufort to

escape, and many had died there so many BuCol actually closed the planet to immigration for almost

sixty years.

Fionna's parents and grandparents had spoken of those bitter years. The gene pool was small; the

environment was harsh; and BuCol's Corporate World bureaucrats had not gone out of their way to

help. Those six decades of isolation had produced the dialect the Innerworlders mocked--and left a

burning hatred in the hearts of the people who spoke it.

But then the unsuspected pharmaceutical potential of the Beaufort doomwhale had rocked Terran

medical science, and suddenly the Corporate Worlds and the Assembly were filled with concern for the

colony they had ignored for so long. The Corporate World combines had moved in, and the Corporate

World nightmare had come for the people of Beaufort once more.

Yet cold, hostile Beaufort had trained them well, and the planetary government moved quickly to regulate

doomwhaling and exclude the Corporate Worlds, unmoved by threats of economic reprisal. There was

little anyone could do which the Corporate Worlds hadn't already done, and, for the first time in over a

century and a half, Corporate World plutocrats were forced to dance to the eeo[*oslash] nomic piping of

a Fringe World.

They had hated it, and it was Beaufort's successful resistance to their penetration which gave her

delegation such prestige. Beaufort had proved the Corporate Worlds could be stopped; now it was time

to prove they ceuld be pushed back, and Fionna MacTaggart had dedicated her professional life to that

goal.

Yet there was only one of her, and she was tired... so very, very tired. Beyond each confrontation,

another loomed, and she faced each a little more diminished, a little more weary.

She shook herself mentally, banishing the dark thoughts.

It had been a bad day--perhaps that was why she felt so somber. Or perhaps it was this reception. It had

been scheduled before Taliaferro dropped his bomb, and canceling it now was out of the question, but it

was a strain to be polite to the Corporate Wodders as they arrived.

Still, she thought with a sudden flicker of amusement, it might be equally hard on them.

She glanced at her watch. Another ten minutes and she could find herself a drink and begin to circulate.

That might help. It was always easier to deal with people in small, intimate groups rather than in formal,

antagonistic public forums. Then she looked back up and bit off a curse as Oskar Dieter entered with his

now-constant shadow, Fouchet.

She felt Ladislaus materialize by her side. Dear Lad! He played the buffoon for the Innerworlders, but his

fellow Beauforters knew his worth. Indeed, she sometimes wished she didn't know him quite so well. It

would be nice to lose herself in an affair with someone with his strength and integrity, but any liaison with

him would have felt incestuous.

Dieter paused at the head of the reception line, and his dark eyes glittered. Fionna didn't like Dieter; she

never had, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Unlike Taliaferro, Dieter was a poor hand at hiding his

emotions, and she'd flicked him on the raw often in debate. He resented that, and resented it all the more

because she was a woman. The Constitution might outlaw sexual discrimination, but New Zurich's

unwritten law enshrined it, and she suspected Dieter found her an insult to his prejudices as well as to his

ambitions. Still, there were amenities to be observed, and sheeaheld out her hand with a smile.

"Mister Dieter." "Ms. MacTagsart." He bowed slightly, ignoring her hand, and his voice was cold, his

eyes scornful. Fionna's palm itched.

"A pleasure to see you, sir," she made herself lie. "I understand you will be taking a major role in

tomorrow's debate?" "Indeed," he said. "And so, I hear, will you. Playing your usual obstructionist role, I

presume." Conversation slackened, and Fionna felt Ladislaus tighten beside her. She touched his hand

unobtrusively.

"I prefer, sir, to consider my role as that of a constrnc,-tive advooate for the Fringe Worlds," she said,

equally coldly. "We, too, have a right to present our point of view and to contend for our values and

dreams." "Values and dreams?! Fringe garbage!" Dieter flushed suddenly, his voice hissing, and Fionna's

eyes widened. Good God, what ailed the man? One simply didn't say things like that at formal

receptions!

"Yes, Mister Dieter," she heard herself say, "we, too, have our dreams and aspirations--or will the

Corporate Worlds take even those from us?" Ripples of silence raced outward. Fionna dared not turn to

see the effect of the acid exchange, yet neither dared she to ,ill disi! retreat. It was one thing to appear

reasonable; it was quite another to appear weak.

"We have no desire for them," Dieter sneered. "You speak very prettily in debate, for a Fringe Worlder,

Madam, but the Assembly'will not be blind to your barbarism and xenophobia forever. You and your

kind have stood in the path of civilization too long?

He almost spat the last words, and suddenly she smelled his breath. Reefgrubs! He was almost in orbit

on New Athens mizir! How could he be so stupid as to meet her in this condition? But whatever madness

possessed him wasn't her worry; responding to his attack was.

"We may be barbarians, sir," she said, and her voice rang clearly in the silence, "but at least we have the

advantage of you in manners!" Dieter's face twisted as the crowd murmured approval. Even through the

haze of mizir fumes he could sense the incredible blunder he'd made. But recognizing it and reo trieving it

were two different things, and his fuddled brain was unequal to the task.

"Slut!" he hissed suddenly, thrusting his face close to hers. "You've aped your betters for too long! Get

home to your stinking little ball of mud and make babies to play in the muck!" Fionna and her guests

froze. Enmity between political leaders was nothing new, but this--to No one could quite believe Dieter

was so lost to self-control, yet his words hung in the supercharged air like a sub-critical mass of

plutonium, and they waited breathlessly for the explosion.

It came. Ladislaus Skjorning's huge fight hand lashed open-palmed across Dieter's face.

The New Zuricher rebounded from the blow, crashing into Fouchet, blood bursting from the corner of his

mouth.

He stared at Ladislaus for a moment of terror, then clawed himself upright, gobbling curses while

Fouchet's hand darted inside his tunic. But Ladislaus wasn't yet done, and Fionna's world reeled about

her as his quarterdeck rasp cut through Dieter's fury.

"You're to meet me for this," he grated.

Dieter's mouth snapped shut as a warning battered at the mizir. He was in the Beaufort enclave; the

enclaves enjoyed extraterritoriality; and on Beaufort, dueling was an accepted fact of life.. He stared at

the giant before him, and for the first time he understood the difference be- tween a patiently plodding ox

and a charging bull.

"I--I--was He fought for words. "This is... is preposter- ous! Barbaric! You can't be--was "Aye, we're

to be called barbarians," Ladislaus agreed grimly, "but it's to meet me you'll be for all of that." "I--I

won't!" Dieter gasped desperately.

"No?" Ladislaus wrapped one hand in the New Zuricher's tunic, and muscles bred to a gravity a

thirdeaagiin that of Old Terra's rippled as he lifted him from the floor. "You've the right to be calling

barbarians, but not the guts to be facing one, have you? But it's on Beaufort soil you are the now! It's

Beaufort law has the ruling of it here." "Let him go, Skjorning!" It was Fouchet, his hand still inside his

tunic, and Ladislaus' blue eyes moved coldly to the security man's tighteaface.

"Chief?." the big Friffger said softly.

"Mister Fouchet," Fionna's voice rang through the hor- rified room, "You are legally on the soil of

Beaufort, and as chief of her delegation, I will thank you to remove your hand from your tunieempty."

Fouchet eyed her contemptuously, then paled.

Three grim-faced Assembly lictors stood behind her, stun batons in hand and a hard light in their eyes.

He hadn't seen them appear, but he knew whose orders they would obey in this room.

His hand came out of his tunic--empty.

"Thank you," Fionna said icily, then touched Ladislaus lightly on the arm. "Put him down, Lad," she said

quietly.

For a moment it seemed the towering blond giant might refuse, then he slammed Dieter back onto his

feet, and the Corporate Wodder swayed. Fionna's eyes were emer- ald ice, but her voice was colder.

@u "Mister Dieter, you have been challenged to honorable combat by Ladislaus Skjorning. Do you

accept the chal- lenge?"" "I-- Nol Of course not! It's---was "Be silent!" Fionna's voice whiplashed across

his splut- tering and shocked him into silence. "Very well. You have declined the challenge--as is your

right. But as represen- tative of Beaufort on Old Terra, it is my duty to inform you that you are no longer

welcome on her soil.

Leave. If you ever return, you will be forcibly ejected." Dieter stared at her like a gaffed fish, the mottled

red print of Ladislaus' hand the only color in his white face. He looked desperately around the circle of

hostile faces, and he found no support. Not a man or woman present questioned Fionna's decision. He

opened his mouth.

"One word, Mister Dieter," Fionna said softly, "and I will ask these lictors to escort you from the

premises. Now leave!" And Oskar Dieter turned to stumble away through the crowd.

Fionna couldn't fault Lad--comexcept, perhaps, in that the challenge had rightfully been hers to give.

Such behavior was not tolerated on Beaufort, nor most other Fringe Worlds. Sparse societies in alien

environments tended to be armed, and insults carried a stiff price. Yet even if she couldn't question his

act, she regretted the impact she expected it to have.

But the actual impact surprised her. The Corporate Worlds might have convinced the Heart Worlds the

Fringe was uncouth, but not even they dared argue that a society's customs could be challenged with

impunity. That sort of intolerance would have destroyed the Federatiori long since, and no Heart Worlder

hesitated to condemn Dieter's behavior.

Not even the excuse that he'd been drugging (acceptable on most Heart Worlds, though not in the

Fringe) could mitigate his unforgivable boorishness.

So far as the Heart Worlds were concerned, the whole focus of the Corporate-Fringe World debate had

been shifted by a single instance of supremely bad manners.

The Fringers' reactions were even more startling.

She'd expected a ground swell of anger she would never be able to control; instead, she got a tightening

of ranks and an upwelling of ever stronger support.

The hatred she'd expected was there, but it was controlled by respect for her and Ladislaus.

Dieter's stupidity had strengthened her prestige with Fringer and Heart Worlder alike, and the Corporate

Worlds lost ground steadily in debate. The amalgamation issue was far from resolved, but under her

leadership the Fringe had emerged as astnoderate and reasonable entity, and as the days passed, she felt

the pendulum swinging in her favor.

Simon Taliaferro's joviality was in abeyance, and his eyes were cold as Oskar Dieter and Francois

Fouchet entered his office.

"You idiot!" he flared. "How could you be so stupid?!" "I--I wasn't myself," Dieter muttered. "I was

provoked!" "Provoked, hell!

You were glitter-dusted to the eyeballs, that's what you were! Look at these'--he slammed a fist on the

sheaf of printouts on his desk--com?and tell me it was worth it!" "Mister Taliaferro," Fouchet's calm

voice cut the super- heated tension like an icicle, "we're prepared to stipulate an error was made, but

fixing blame won't solve our difficulties. Clearly gou have something to tell us; equally clearly it isn't

something you much care for. Very well. Tell us, and let's see ff we can't find a way to retrieve the

situation." Fouchet's coolness seemed to calm Taliaferro, and he drew a deep breath. Then he let it hiss

out and squared his shoulders.

"You're right, Francois," he said finally. "I'll say no more about the... episode. But the consequences are

David Weber & Steve White - Starfire 01 - Insurrection

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