Orphan's Triumph

FORTY-NINE

FOUR WEEKS LATER, Aud Planck was sufficiently recovered to travel. During those weeks, I honed my trident skills without further incident and swapped war stories with Pytr. Meanwhile, the duchess of Northern Iridia and my godson talked late into every night, walked the pools together every day. Eventually and inevitably the two orphans of very different wars became an item.

Our return trip was less eventful than our trip out.

I parted with the others at an Iridian safe house, then reentered the consulate the old-fashioned way, in an upturned-collar coat and turned-down-brim hat, walking like a garden-variety passerby, then abruptly ducked up the steps and buzzed myself in the door before the Ferrents could cross the street and snatch me.

That earned me a lecture from Bill the Spook, which was cut short when the Ferrents showed up demanding that the consulate disgorge the defector and Bill had to go lie to them.

With Bill busy, I slipped up to the Duck’s corner office on the top floor.

I buzzed myself in the Duck’s side door, bypassing his outer office. His inner sanctum was small for his GS grade, plain-furnished with a set of leather desk accessories he had toted over half of Earth and a smaller fraction of the Milky Way. He looked up from his screens and smiled. “Jason!” As he waddled around his desk and shook my hand, he frowned. “What happened? Where’s Jude? What about Planck?”

“They’re both fine. The rest is complicated. Diplomatic progress with Zeit?”

The Duck motioned me to a chair as he dropped back into his, crossed his ankles on his desk, laced his fingers behind his head, and sighed. “They’re slow-playing. They don’t know what we want, but they know we aren’t going to offer anything for it that would strengthen them relative to us. They don’t need much from us.”

“While we wait for Zeit’s permission to mine Cavorite, the Slugs could fry ten planets, including this one. But we have a cruiser in orbit that could fry Zeit first.”

The Duck swung his feet to the floor and leaned across his desk toward me. As he spoke, he poked his finger into his desk blotter. “We’ve been through this together before, Jason, on Bren. We’ve both been ordered to make a deal, not a war. If a public servant can’t carry out an order, his option is to resign, not to whine. You’ll never quit. So quit whining!”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

I reached inside my jacket, removed a paper sheaf and pen, signed the top sheet, then slid the sheaf across the desk.

The Duck poked it like it was a dead rat. “What’s this?”

I pointed at page one. “Acceptance of Relief and Retirement. Pre-signed by my boss. If retiree is posted outside the continental United States, Copy A of this document may be delivered to any United States Embassy or similar facility for transmittal to the Army Officer Personnel Directorate without charge for postage. Retiree’s separation will be backdated to the date of delivery to said facility.”

The Duck snorted. “Jason, that just fixes your pension pay start date. You can’t quit.”

“You just dared me to.”

“We’re at war. You could be shot for desertion.”

I reached beneath my jacket again, unholstered Ord’s.45, laid it on the Duck’s desk blotter, then stood back, hands on hips. “All you have to do is cock it. Then shoot me.”

The Duck’s eyes bugged.

I unbuttoned my jacket and stuck out my chest. “Go ahead!”

“They were right to retire you. You’re nuts.” The Duck stared at the pistol in front of him with his palms on his desktop for thirty seconds. Then he sighed and closed his eyes. “Okay. What do you want?”

“Recognize me as spokesperson for the legitimate government of Iridia.”

“Jason, there is no Iridia. Zeit’s made it part of Tressen.”

“Read the Armistice. Zeit’s police powers over Iridia are temporary until the indigenous government of Iridia chooses to restore itself.”

“Jason, the indigenous government of Iridia can’t choose jack. The Armistice became a dead letter when Zeit’s goons killed the last Iridian duke a year ago.”

I walked to Duck’s coatrack, tugged his coat off it, and chucked it at him. “Let’s take a walk.”

The Duck covered his face with his palms and muttered through them. “ France. For this, I turned down France.” Then he stood and walked toward the door, slipping an arm into a coat sleeve.

“Almost forgot!” I raised my index finger, then leaned across the Duck’s desk and scooped Ord’s pistol off the blotter.

As we got to the office door, I fished an object out of my trouser pocket.

I tapped the pistol’s clip back into its butt while the Duck stared at it, jaw dropped.

I shrugged. “I’m not nuts. But you might have been.”

Once the Duck gave the orders, it took only an hour for Bill the Spook to shuffle us out of the consulate and set us loose in the old town, free of Ferrent escort.