David Drake - [Leary 05] - Some Golden Harbor

Some Golden Harbor-ARC

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1: Xenos on Cinnabar

CHAPTER 2: Southwest of Xenos on Cinnabar

CHAPTER 3: Bergen and Associates Yard near Xenos

CHAPTER 4: Above Pellegrino

CHAPTER 5: Above Bennaria

CHAPTER 6: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 7: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 8: Charlestown Harbor on Bennaria

CHAPTER 9: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 10: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 11: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 13: Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 14: Ollarville on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 15: Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 16: Port Dunbar on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 17: Port Dunbar on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 18: Haven City on Pellegrino

CHAPTER 19: En Route to Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 20: Ollarville on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 21: Mandelfarne Island on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 22: Mandelfarne Island on Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 23: Charlestown on Bennaria

CHAPTER 26: En route to Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 27: Above Dunbar's World

CHAPTER 28: Mandelfarne Island on Dunbar's World

SOME GOLDEN HARBOR—ARC

by David Drake

Advance Reader Copy

Unproofed

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any

resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

A Baen Books Original

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Baen Publishing Enterprises

P.O. Box 1403

Riverdale, NY 10471

www.baen.com

ISBN 10: 1-4165-2080-5

ISBN 13: 978-1-4165-2080-1

Cover art by Steve Hickman

First printing, September 2006

Distributed by Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:

t/k

Printed in the United States of America

DEDICATION

To Barry Malzberg

A friend of many years, with whom I live in the Land of

Science Fiction

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Dan Breen, my first reader, continues to catch clerical errors that I'd missed at least twice. Not

infrequently he'll also ask a question like, "How did she get from there to here?" which is even more

valuable.

Oh,boy , did I kill computers this time. The score was four or five, all for different reasons and all within

a period of weeks. The prize was when I decided to change my pattern and bought a brand new

Compaq, which gave splendid service before dying on Day Five (yes, taking with it my day's work; but

that was my fault.). Compaq instantly sent a new hard drive, which solved the problem. (And I redid the

work. Hey, nobody's shooting at me.)

Keeping me going with expertise, parts, and labor were Mark Van Name, my wife Jo, and most

particularly my son Jonathan. And I should mention that in the course of my frustration, Allyn Vogel

taught me to disconnect the Insert key which has been a thorn in my side ever since I had to switch to the

Windows operating system. My life would be much darker without family and friends.

Dorothy Day checked continuity for me during the writing, and my webmaster Karen Zimmerman dug

up bits of desired information. (For example, finding the lyrics toMorgenrot , which I then translated in a

rough-and-ready fashion for a throwaway scene.) Both of them also archived my texts as I completed

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them. (See above. This was areally good book to archive in distant parts of the country.)

Dorothy and Evan Ladouceur then went over the completed manuscript for mistakes that'd survived my

first two passes. (And believe me, I caught my share of stupid errors).

Besides picking up replacement keyboards (yes, two of them) and the like and feeding me superbly, my

wife Jo provides someone to whom I can burble about the plot problem I'm facing or the neat thing I've

just learned. This is enormously helpful.

Even thoughSome Golden Harbor is a solo novel, it would be significantly less good if I didn't have a

support structure which you literally couldn't buy. This is a blessing whose full extent can be appreciated

only by those few who are similarly fortunate.

Dave Drake

david-drake.com

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I've based the setting ofSome Golden Harbor on political and military events taking place during the

early 5thcentury BC in Southern Italy (Aricia, Cumae, and the Etruscan federation). All right, that's a little

obscure even for me, but I found the discussion of Aristodemus of Cumae in an aside by Dionysius of

Halicarnassus to be an extremely clear account of the rise and eventual fall of an ancient tyrant.

There's more real information here than in the lengthy, tendentious, and generally rhetorical disquisitions

on Coriolanus (a near contemporary, by the way). I suspect that's because Aristodemus is unimportant

except as a footnote to Roman history, whereas Gaius Marcius Coriolanus provided one of the basic

myths of Rome. The real Coriolanus and the real events involving him are buried under a structure of

invention, but nobody had a reason to do that in regard to Aristodemus.

While the basic politico-military situation comes from ancient history, I took most of the business on

Dunbar's World from the South during the American Civil War and the Republicans during the Spanish

Civil War. I've enormously simplified what went on in both cases.

Every time I really dig into a period I learn that what a secondary history gave two lines to was an

incredibly complex business that could've as easily gone the other way. I'm pleased when I meet people

who know any history at all, but I do wish that people who've read only secondary sources (or worse,

have watched a TV show on the subject) would keep in mind that there's a lot beneath the surface of any

major historical event. I want to scream every time I hear someone say something along the lines of,

"Whatreally caused the Roman Civil War was—"

No, it didn't. Nothing that complicated has a single, simple causation. When somebody frames his

statement in those terms (those doing so have invariably been male in my experience), he proves that he

doesn't know enough to discuss the subject.

The scattered human societies I postulate for this series would have many systems of weights and

measures. Rather than try to duplicate that reality and thereby confuse readers without advancing my

story, I've simply put Cinnabar on the English system while the Alliance is Metric. I don't believe either

system will be in use two millennia from now, but regardless: my business is storytelling, not prediction.

Dave Drake

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CHAPTER 1: Xenos on

Cinnabar

And some are wilder comrades, sworn to seek

If any golden harbor be for men

In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of Doubt.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Prefatory Sonnet to 'The Nineteenth Century'

"This way, mistress," said the hostess of Pleasaunce Style, dipping slightly at the knees before turning to

lead Adele Mundy into the restaurant. "Your luncheon companion is waiting. Ah. . .?"

She turned, a look of question if not concern on her perfectly formed face. "Your companion requested

a table in the Sky Room where you'll be seen by all. You were aware of that, mistress?"

The hostess was slender and had been tall even before she'd teased her brunette hair up on stiffeners of

mauve feathers that matched her dress. The coiffeur formed a curtained cage in which an insect the size

of Adele's thumb sat and shrieked. That would've been irritating enough by itself, but all the waitresses

were wearing similar hairdos. The insects sang in stridently different keys.

"I didn't know that," Adele said, trying not to sound snappish, "but it doesn't matter."

"Of course, mistress," the hostess said and resumed her smooth progress into the restaurant.

Adele supposed the question had been a criticism of her suit, light gray with a thin black stripe. Though

as expensive as the clothing of the other diners, it was conservatively cut. The hostess might've preferred

rags—which could've been a cutting edge fashion statement—to Adele's muted respectability.

Adele smiled thinly, wondering if she might be able to convince the hostess that she was really a

trend-setter; that in the past several weeks her severe garments had become the rage on Bryce and

Pleasaunce, respectively the intellectual and political centers of the Alliance of Free Stars. She very

possibly could—she could ape a Bryce accent flawlessly—but it'd be a pointless thing to do.

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Given that life generally appeared to be pointless, though. . . . She'd see whether the idea continued to

appeal to her after she'd met with Maurice Claverhouse.

The hostess led Adele up a sweeping staircase to the mezzanine hanging over the middle of the regular

dining area. People on the main floor followed them with their eyes. Under other circumstances that

would've irritated her, but this meeting was work. Adele was a Signals Officer in the Republic of

Cinnabar Navy and an agent for Mistress Bernis Sand, the Republic's spymaster. Both appointments had

put her in situations more uncomfortable than lunching in a trendy restaurant.

"Watch your step," the hostess warned, gesturing toward the flared landing at the top of the stairs. It

joined the mezzanine proper on a thin curved line: the Sky Room must rotate. Though the floor had a

cloudy presence when viewed from below, it was clear when Adele looked down.

There were only six tables in the Sky Room, arranged to put the diners on display. A reservation here

obviously required more than money, making Adele wonder again why Claverhouse had chosen this

venue for their meeting. Several of those present were dressed in fashions as extreme as those of the

servers, though they didn't have insects in their hair.

Adele permitted herself a minuscule grin. Not deliberately, at any rate, and in this company the likelihood

of lice was slight compared to the sort of places in which poverty had forced Adele to eat and sleep for

many years.

The Mundys of Chatsworth had been among the wealthiest and most powerful nobles on Cinnabar, but

their property'd been confiscated when they were executed for treason during the Three Circles

Conspiracy seventeen standard years ago. Adele, then sixteen, had survived because she was on Bryce

to continue her education in the Academic Collections there. The Director, Mistress Boileau, had acted

as Adele's protector as well as mentor, but she herself wasn't wealthy.

Adele kept a straight face as she glanced past the man at the adjacent table wearing diaphanous

garments trimmed with what seemed to be random patches of fur. If it hadn't been for the Three Circles

Conspiracy, Adele Mundy'd would've had a circle of acquaintances who'd keep her abreast of current

fashions like those. She'd continue to manage to live with her ignorance, however.

The hostess stopped beside a table whose present occupant, a man in what looked at first glance like a

uniform in gold braid and puce, rose to greet her. "Little Adele," he said. "Still the studious little girl, I

see."

"Good day, Maurice," Adele said.What was proper etiquette in greeting a man who'd been old

when you last met him as a child? "I'm still studious, yes. And probably as girlish as I ever was."

Which meant not girlish at all, as people generally defined such things. Adele'd been quiet and serious

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from as far back as she could remember. Her best friends had always been books and the knowledge

books brought her. Her little sister Agatha, though, had liked dolls and people and games. When Agatha

was ten years old, two soldiers had identified her as a Mundy and therefore a traitor; and they'd cut her

head off with their knives.

The hostess drew a chair out for her. Adele found such displays of empty subservience irritating, but

objecting would simply delay matters and might offend the man from whom she hoped to glean current

information about the situation on Dunbar's World.

Whyhad Claverhouse picked a place like this to meet, though? Adele didn't care, but she'd have thought

he'd have been more comfortable in Chatsworth Minor, now her townhouse and a familiar resort for

Claverhouse in the days when her father, Lucius Mundy, led the Popular Party.

The old man sat back heavily. The years had weighed on him. He wasn't overweight in the usual sense,

but flesh seemed to hang in soft masses from the rack of his bones. He wheezed slightly as he said, "Little

Adele. I was more surprised than I can say to hear from you as soon as I arrived back on Cinnabar after

all these years. I hadn't realized that you—"

He paused, meeting Adele's eyes; his breath caught again and his hand tightened on his glass. He'd been

waiting long enough—though Adele was precisely on time—to have gotten a drink layered in liqueurs of

differing colors.

"—survived. If you don't mind an old man saying so."

Why don't the layers mix?As the question popped into her mind, Adele reached reflexively for the

personal data unit she carried in a pocket specially sewn into the right thigh of every pair of trousers she

owned. The little unit probably held the answer. Even if it didn't, she'd coupled it to every major data

base here in Xenos—including those whose access was supposedly restricted.

Some people said that knowledge was power. To Adele Mundy, knowledge was life itself.

But the knowledge she'd come to gather had nothing to do with drink preparation, so she managed to

restrain her hand. Smiling to herself, she said, "I was off-planet during the Proscriptions. Your assumption

would've been correct for the other members of the family, however."

Maybe the smile was the wrong expression under the circumstances. Claverhouse looked stricken and

gulped down half the contents of his tall glass.

Adele grimaced, wishing she were better at social interactions. She never seemed to say or do the right

thing.For pity's sake, he'dbrought the subject up!

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"I was surprised to see the name of an old acquaintance—"

Should she have said 'friend'?

"—when I was checking records of recent arrivals from Dunbar's World, Maurice," she said, plowing

ahead because she couldn't think of any better way to proceed. "I've been assigned to assist Commander

Leary—I'm an RCN officer myself, warrant officer that is—in his mission to Dunbar's World, so I need

information on the present situation there. The invasion by Pellegrino, that is."

"You said as much when you asked for a meeting," Claverhouse said heavily. "Among the other

surprises that gave me was was learning that Lucius' elder daughter had joined the Navy."

'Navy' was the civilian term for what anyone in the service called the RCN. Adele didn't correct

him—the old manwas a civilian, after all—but her smile was a touch stiffer than it might otherwise have

been. Clavernhouse had reminded her how much she'd had to change because the world into which she'd

been born had changed.

The odd thing was, the thing that Adele would never have believed at the moment she learned that the

heads of her parents and most of their friends were displayed on the Speaker's Rock in the center of

Xenos, was that the change was largely for the better. Better by the terms in which she judged things

now. The RCN had become more of a family than her blood relatives would ever have been, and she

had a remarkably close friend in Daniel Leary.

Even though his father, Speaker Leary, was the man whose proscriptions had ended the Three Circles

Conspiracy and most of the Mundy family.

"Would mistress like a drink before her meal?" asked a waitress. This one's fine blond hair gave Adele a

better view of the caged bug. It had six legs, large, clear wings, and a thoroughly unpleasant voice.

Daniel would be interested: he liked both natural history and pretty young blondes. As well as pretty

young brunettes, pretty young red-heads, and any other variety of pretty young woman.

"Yes," said Adele, taking the wine list and indicating the first offering under the heading White Wines.

She didn't care, not even a little bit, but she'd long since learned that saying, "I don't care," to a waiter

would only create more delay. "A glass of that. Thank you."

"And another Volcano for me," said Claverhouse. An amber half inch remained of his drink; he finished it

and shoved the glass toward the waitress.

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His eyes remained on Adele. When the blond and her insect took themselves away, he said, "Do you

suppose that they really do dress like that on Pleasaunce? Or is it an elaborate joke?"

Adele shrugged. "In my experience," she said, "the people who really care about fashion don't have a

sense of humor. Yes, I think a certain class of people on Pleasaunce goes about with bugs in its hair. . .

or did recently, at any rate. I suppose there's some delay in information since war's become open again."

The Republic of Cinnabar and the Alliance of Free Stars were the major groupings that'd appeared since

the thousand-year Hiatus from star travel. There was always rivalry and often war, but even during war

there was a degree of social and artistic intercourse. There was nothing surprising about a restaurant in

Xenos, the capital of the Republic, naming and modeling itself on the style of the chief planet of the

Alliance; nor was it surprising that Adele Mundy had studied for a decade on Bryce while the RCN

battled Alliance squadrons across the whole human galaxy.

"Sometimes it's difficult to keep a sense of humor," Claverhouse said, his eyes unfocused. He cleared his

throat and went on more purposefully, "You said, 'the Pellegrinian invasion of Dunbar's World' but that's

not precisely what happened. Pellegrino isn't within Ganpat's Reach the way Dunbar's World and

Bennaria are; it's just outside. Pellegrino's a significant trade hub, but the Reach itself—and certainly

Dunbar's World—was a backwater where an exile could carry on a business without attracting

attention."

He smiled at a memory, looking suddenly younger. "Miroslav Krychek had been an Alliance colonel," he

went on. "He killed one of Guarantor Porra's favorites in a duel and arrived on Dunbar's World at almost

the same time I did following the Proscriptions. I had a considerable amount of cash from liquidating

assets that weren't on Cinnabar proper, and Miroslav had two hundred armed retainers. We went into

partnership."

The waitress brought the drinks with a chirping flourish. The bugs seemed to make the sound with their

legs instead of their mouths. Adele firmly believed that there was no useless knowledge, so she'd gotten

something out of the experience. . . but she certainly wished that Claverhouse had come to Chatsworth

Minor instead.

"And then the Pellegrinians invaded," Adele prompted, since her host appeared to be concentrating on

the fresh drink. She couldn't imagine how Claverhouse had gotten to his present age if he drank like this

as a regular thing; perhaps the shock of being driven from his home again had overwhelmed him.

"Not exactly," said Claverhouse, looking at her shrewdly. "You really are interested in Dunbar's World,

aren't you?"

"Yes, of course," Adele said, holding her temper with some difficulty.If he isn't drunk, is he senile? "I'm

accompanying Commander Leary to help our ally Bennaria oppose the invasion of their ally, Dunbar's

World."

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"In the middle of war with the Alliance, the Navy is sending one of its most successful young officers off

to the back side of nowhere?" Claverhouse said. "You see, I've done some checking myself. And I'm

afraid I don't find your story convincing, Mistress Mundy."

Adele felt her face stiffen. She carried a pistol in her left tunic pocket, its weight as familiar and

comforting to her as that of the personal data unit. She'd killed with it in the past, killed more times than

she could count. An old man who'd called her a liar would be a slight additional burden to her soul.

Then instead she smiled. "Maurice," she said, "I wouldn't have thought I had to tell you that Cinnabar

politics can be harsh. Commander Leary was thought, perhaps with justification, to be a favorite of

Admiral Anston, the former Chief of the Navy Board. Anston retired after a heart attack shortly before

Commander Leary returned to Cinnabar in a captured prize. The new Chief, Admiral Vocaine, is most

definitelynot a partisan of Commander Leary. One might surmise that this mission to 'the back side of

nowhere' was a Godsend to both men."

Adele paused and licked her lips; they'd gone dry with the rush of adrenalin that had urged her hand

toward her pistol. "I tell you that," she continued, "on my honor as a Mundy. I hope you won't question

my word, Maurice."

Claverhouse set his drink back on the table and met her eyes. "No, of course not," he said. "My

apologies, dear girl. My sincere apologies. As for Dunbar's World—"

Skre-e-ell! "Would you care to hear the specials on today's luncheon menu?"

Claverhouse gave the waitress a look of cold fury and said, "No, we would not. Bill me for two soups

and salads and eat them yourself while leaving us alone."

He glanced at Adele. "Unless you, my dear. . .?"

"No, quite right," said Adele.

"Then be gone, " Claverhouse snapped to the waitress. "And take you vermin with you!"

He cleared his throat and went on, "Yes, Dunbar's World. Chancellor Arruns, the leader of Pellegrino,

has a son named Nataniel. Nataniel Arruns is an active, ambitious young man. He's not ideally suited to

living quietly at home and waiting to rule Pellegrino when his father dies in the normal course of events.

Nataniel has gone to Dunbar's World with ten thousand mercenaries to conquer a base for himself."

"So it's not a Pellegrinian invasion after all?" Adele said, frowning. Mistress Sand hadn't been able to

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provide much information, but that much at least had seemed certain.

"Technically, no," said Claverhouse. He smiled coldly. "But those mercenaries were until a month or so

ago members of the Defense Forces of Pellegrino, and I have suspicions as to where their pay is coming

from even now. The fact that it's not legally war between states is useful for all concerned, however. It'd

wreck Pellegrino's economy if vessels trading to Ganpat's Reach couldn't stop there as they ordinarily

do."

"Ah," said Adele, nodding. This was a legal fiction which, like so many other things that looked like lies,

made normal human interactions possible. That was much of the reason that Adele was uncomfortable

with human interactions.

She brought out her data unit now—properly, because they'd gotten onto the business of the meeting

and she didn't have to worry that she'd offend Claverhouse. What the staff of Pleasaunce Style thought of

her was another matter, but shereally didn't worry about that.

"Ten thousand troops is a large force to transport even a relatively short interstellar distance. . .," she

said as the unit's holographic display bloomed in pearly readiness. Daniel had told her Pellegrino was

from three to five days from Dunbar's World as a civilian vessel would make the voyage. "But Dunbar's

World has a population of half a million according to my information. Is that correct?"

"Close enough," Claverhouse said. "There's no army, there wasn't, I mean, but if everybody'd been

behind the govern. . . ."

His voice trailed off as he stared at Adele. "What in God's name are you doing?" he demanded. "Are

those chopsticks?"

Adele grimaced in embarrassment; another person might have forced a smile instead. "These are the

wands I use to control my personal data unit," she said. "With practice they're much faster and more

accurate than a virtual keyboard. I, ah, prefer them."

Claverhouse shook his head in wonder. "I always thought you were a clever little girl," he said. In a

different tone he added, "So much has changed. So very much."

Adele shrugged. "I suppose times always change," she said. She smiled faintly. "Sometimes they even

change for the better."

Her amusement was not at the thought itself but because the thought'd come into the mind of Adele

Mundy. A few years ago—before she met Daniel and became part of the RCN—it would've been

beyond her conception; and that was the best evidence of change for the better that there could be.

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David Drake - [Leary 05] - Some Golden Harbor

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