The Gripping Hand Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by the Authors

  Maps

  Chronology

  Dramatis Personae

  PART 1 - Snow Ghost

  Chapter 1, Interaction Nook

  Chapter 2, Receptions

  Chapter 3, The Maguey Worm

  Chapter 4, Snow Ghost

  Chapter 5, The True Church

  PART 2 - Sparta

  Chapter 1, Capital City

  Chapter 2, Tourists

  Chapter 3, Jock

  Chapter 4, Veto

  Chapter 5, Passengers

  Chapter 6, The Seeds of Treason

  PART 3 - The Moat Around Murcheson's Eye

  Chapter 1, New Ireland

  Chapter 2, The High Commission

  Chapter 3, Communications

  Chapter 4, The I-point

  Chapter 5, The Battle of Crazy Eddie's Sister

  Chapter 6, Hostile Takeover

  Chapter 7, Labyrinth of Lies

  Chapter 8, Medina Base Six

  PART 4 - The Crazy Eddie Worm

  Chapter 1, The Tartars

  Chapter 2, Vermin City

  Chapter 3, Chocolate

  Chapter 4, Messages

  Chapter 5, The Guns of Medina Mosque

  Chapter 6, Judgment

  Chapter 7, Jump Shock

  Chapter 8, Stern Chase

  Epilogue - Endgame

  About Larry Niven

  About Jerry Pournelle

  THE GRIPPING HAND

  Larry Niven

  www.larryniven.net

  Jerry Pournelle

  www.jerrypournelle.com

  Copyright © 1993 by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle

  Cover design by Passageway Pictures, Inc.

  Cover image: Courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Collaborative Works by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle

  INFERNO

  THE MOTE IN GOD'S EYE

  OATH OF FEALTY

  FOOTFALL

  LUCIFER'S HAMMER

  THE GRIPPING HAND

  THE BURNING CITY

  BURNING TOWER

  ESCAPE FROM HELL

  Collaborative Works by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle and Steven Barnes

  THE LEGACY OF HEOROT

  BEOWULF'S CHILDREN (sequel to THE LEGACY OF HEOROT)

  “Secret of Black Ship Island”

  Collaborative Works by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle and Michael Flynn

  FALLEN ANGELS

  For Marilyn and Roberta,

  those most patient of ladies

  THE GRIPPING HAND

  Larry Niven

  &

  Jerry Pournelle

  1

  Interaction Nook

  O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

  —William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2

  A severed head spun across black sky. He had been a Marine: square jaw, close-cropped blond hair, glittering dead eyes. The slack mouth tried to speak. "Tell them," it said. "Stop them." Vacuum made its skin puffy, and blood made frozen bubbles on the thick neck. "Wake them. Wake them up. Mr. Bury, sir, wake up," it said urgently. The sky swarmed with small six-limbed shapes. They thrashed in the vacuum, found their balance, and swam toward him, past him, toward the battleship Lenin. Vacuum swallowed his scream. "Wake up," they chittered at him. "Please, Excellency, you must wake up."

  His Excellency, Horace Hussein Al-Shamlan Bury, Trader and Magnate, jerked and twitched and was sitting upright. He shook his head and forced his eyes open.

  The small, dark man was standing a safe distance away. Bury said, "Nabil. What time is it?"

  "It's two in the morning, Excellency. Mr. Renner insisted. He said to tell you, 'The gripping hand.' "

  Bury blinked. "Is he drunk?"

  "Very. I woke Cynthia. She's making espresso for him. I made him take vitamins and drink some water. He was

  attacked outside the house. We killed all three, Excellency."

  "Careless." So: three corpses. At least Renner had some excuse for waking him.

  "Mr. Renner was drunk and I was asleep when the alarms rang," Nabil apologized. "Sir, they were using firearms."

  "All right. The gripping hand? Renner's been watching too many holoflicks."

  "Yes, sir. Excellency, I should be seeing to things."

  "Yes, the bodies. We'll want to know all about those. The gripping hand?" Bury eased out of the water bed. His head spun with the motion, and all his joints creaked in protest. "I'll be right down. Have coffee for me, real coffee. Allah help you both if you woke me for nothing but a mugging."

  Renner's fine new Spartan tunic was covered with blood, still wet. He had trouble focusing his eyes. He was already talking as Bury took Turkish coffee from Cynthia and sat down.

  "They were waiting outside," he said. "I sent the taxi off and started for the door. Two stepped out of God knows where. One grabbed my arms from behind. One sprayed Peaceable Sam in my face. I think that's what it was; I didn't try to sniff it. Held my breath. Bit the alarm tooth and ejected my sleeve gun and sprayed him back. He fell against me. Sounded like popcorn going off all through his body. That's where all the blood came from. The guy behind me, I sprayed his feet."

  Nabil was at a console, monitoring as one of Bury's agents began an autopsy on the first of the dead muggers. He looked up to say, "Mr. Renner had called in that he was coming, so the staff was waiting for him, of course. When we heard the alarm they were ready."

  "Ready," Renner said. "Nabil, I haven't thanked you. Horace, he deserves a bonus, Horace."

  Bury sipped at sweet Turkish coffee in a tiny cup. Renner gulped at what Nabil had given him: evil black espresso, service for four in a full-sized mug with a lemon slice floating it in. It popped his eyes open and stood his hair on end.

  Bury winced, too, just watching. He said, "The gripping hand?"

  "The gripping hand. One hand, other hand, gripping hand. I've been hearing it all night. I didn't haul you out of bed to tell you about a goddamned mugging."

  He could follow Bury's thoughts. Drunk. Not making sense. Then the sense came through and the blood drained from Bury's dark face. Renner said, "Hey!" and reached out to steady him.

  Bury brushed the hand off. "Report."

  Renner sat a little straighter. "I went out to look around, as usual. Dressed fancy. Well-paid pilot to a billionaire trader, carrying money and looking for fun. First—"

  "You were doing Renner."

  "It's the easy part of my job. Usually."

  "Go on."

  His lips felt numb and rubbery. Somehow he made them work. "On Maxroy's Purchase a brothel is called an 'interaction nook.' I'd heard about Ressina's. I went there. I didn't want their best girl; I wanted a native. I came away with a lady named Belinda…"

  Space is vast. Customs change, and every human colony is different. Some slavishly imitate the manners of the Imperial court. Others try to be like their Terran ancestors—or more likely, the way they've been told their Terran ancestors were.

  The sun was setting somewhere behind the fog when they reached Shibano's Sea Cave. Maxroy people kept early hours.

  Belinda was a pale blonde, tall, with a heart-shaped face. She had a thick Maxroy's Purchase accent. "Oh, it's lovely! I've never been here myself. You understand, you won't get a drink here?"

  Renner had in fact chosen the place. It was a Mormon-Japane
se restaurant. Maxroy's Purchase had first been settled by Mormons, and they were still a fair percentage of the populace.

  Belinda was alarmed when he tried to order crottled greeps. "Do you know what you're getting?"

  "I've read about this dish."

  "All right." And she grinned. "I'll help you."

  He'd had his doubts about alcohol-removed sake, but it tasted fine. He could get drunk later. Renner often thought of himself as a playboy-spy. Get the sense of the land, while Bury used his own means of gathering information.

  Bury's means often startled him.

  Bury kept track of the flow of money through the Empire. Only that. He was the same merchant prince he'd always been, with only this difference: that for the past quarter of a century, he watched for Outie maneuvering and kept the Navy informed.

  Outies were worlds outside the Empire of Man. Some were harmless, some were not. Fifteen years ago, Outie piracy had been driven from Maxroy's Purchase and from the system. It was to be expected that the flow of money through the system would have dropped off. Only Bury would have noticed that it had not decreased enough. Bury sold civilization; and the Purchase was buying too much of it.

  And Bury had some time . . . and Imperial Autonetics owned three ships here . . .

  The almond-eyed waiter was trying to hide a smirk when he brought Renner's main course. The dish was conspicuous, a shallow bowl over a foot across and five inches high. Customers at other tables broke off conversation to watch as he set it in front of Renner.

  The creatures in the bowl might have been four-legged crabs. Their sides pulsed. Renner remembered reading that they were land creatures. They could almost reach the rim before they dropped back. Their eyes were locked on Renner's as they climbed toward him. They looked hungry and determined.

  "Pick up the crottling fork," Belinda whispered. "The two-pronged fork. Use your thumb and two fingers."

  It was sitting beside the bowl. Renner picked it up. Belinda whispered, "Stab just behind the head plate. Do it

  hard enough to set the prongs. You don't want it to drop off."

  Hesitating was bad: the greeps would move. You couldn't blame them. Renner stabbed one and lifted the fork. Belinda said, "Scrape it off on the edge. You didn't stab hard enough. They bite."

  Renner scraped it off and tried another. The beasts weren't fast, but it wasn't easy to center the fork. He stabbed.

  "Good. Pick it up. Your left hand takes the tail. Pull hard."

  Renner pulled. The exoskeletal tail came right off, exposing two inches of pale meat.

  All eyes were on Renner, to watch him make a fool of himself. The naked tail writhed. Renner felt like a murderer. He said, "So, wretched sand dweller! Now will you tell us of your troop movements?"

  "Actually, it was delicious. You really ought to try it," Renner said.

  Bury merely looked at him.

  "I've done this before, you know. Order something conspicuous, like crepes suzettes. Get 'em looking at me, then pick a conversation. This time I got the proprietor. He came over to lecture. 'Look at that greep. See the shimmy? On the one hand, if they shimmy too hard, they may be diseased. On the other, if they don't shimmy, they haven't eaten well. On the gripping hand, if they're too young and healthy they will escape and attempt to eat you. You would not like that.' I jumped a foot when he stuck his hand in the bowl. He liked that. 'But look here, see how it attacks my artificial finger. This is a healthy greep. Other places, they will see a tourist, and they will serve anything. Not here. Lex Shibano will not serve anything but healthy food. If it goes into your body, it must be healthy. I would—' "

  "Renner!"

  "Oh. Anyway, once Shibano came over, no one wanted to be near us. I guess it's one of the hazards of eating there. When he went away, the people at the next table had all lost interest. So I eavesdropped a little. Pair of men to my right were bankers, I think."

  "I assume you'll get to the point sooner or later."

  Renner nodded. " ‘We could sell out and take a capital gain. Then again, the market's going up on Tabletop. We could hang on and make some real money.' The other one said, 'On the gripping hand, inflation's running wild on Tabletop. Let's get into something else.' "

  Bury was getting older as he watched.

  "I talked to Belinda. She's got ambitions, but hell, she's not stupid. She . . . see if I can get this right . . .

  " 'Yes, Kevin, I could have spent my life as an honest housewife. Farm life isn't bad if you can afford to keep up the machines . . . but if I'm careful and lucky, maybe I can get to Sparta. Get rich. Then start a restaurant or something. What are my chances of getting to Sparta?'

  "I didn't want to lie to her, so—"

  "Go on."

  "I didn't say anything. She looked down at her plate and said, 'The gripping hand is, I'll never be more than a Maxroy spill. The accent, the way I walk . . . how high can I climb?' " Renner stopped to trickle espresso past his tongue and chase it with half a glass of water.

  "Gripping hand," Bury prompted him.

  "I wanted a drink. I took her to the Top of the World. It's a rotating bar and restaurant at the edge of the spaceport. The people at the next table looked like prospectors. 'Prices are good for opal meerschaum and we need the money.' Second guy said, 'I hear it's getting harder to find blocks as large as we have. The price will go up.' The first one said, 'Horace Bury landed on the Purchase yesterday. If anybody can find the real source, he can. The gripping hand is, we'd better sell our stock before the price drops.' Bury, it was everywhere!"

  "More?"

  "I sent Belinda back to the interaction nook. She's looking for a ticket out. She thought I was it. I thought I'd better send her back. A car took off right behind the taxi. I didn't think anything of it, I just tend to notice—"

  "My training."

  "Right. I strolled on into the spill section. I wanted an overview, and it really felt like I was on to something. That's where I got so drunk. Local whiskey. Made from—"

  " 'Gripping hand'?"

  Renner sipped more espresso. "Gah! They looked like hunters. Smelled like hunters. 'Oh, I'm used to hunting snow ghosts. The furs sell for a lot, and if you know their habits, they aren't so dangerous.' One said, 'On the other hand, they did get Serge Levoy a month ago. You think they're learning, maybe? Mutating?' Another one laughed and said, 'On the gripping hand, Page, you're too lazy to do anything else for a living.' "

  Bury shuddered. "Through the Coal Sack. The Mote is just on the other side of the Coal Sack. Moties must have come through the Coal Sack in slower-than-light ships."

  "Not since we were there," Renner said. "Not enough time. And before that—Bury, they couldn't use that lightsail trick through the Coal Sack. Just sending that one ship to New Cal soaked up so many resources it collapsed their whole civilization."

  "Gripping hand," Bury said. "Three alternatives, one dominant. Two delicate right arms and a powerful left. People don't think that way. Moties do! There's too much money on this planet. We were looking for outies. Maybe it isn't outies. Maybe it's far worse than outies."

  "I don't believe it."

  "I don't want to." Bury grimaced. "It is a pity that Nabil had to kill all three who attacked you. I think we might have learned something interesting from them."

  Renner tried to look thoughtful and gave up. He finished the glass of water. "How so?"

  "They wanted you alive. Not the actions of random muggers. Peaceable Sam is a gas used by police, not sold to civilians. They were skilled, and desperate, and had resources, but if they had been truly skilled, they would have succeeded."

  "Desperate skilled amateurs," Renner said. "Who?"

  "I trust we will know in the morning."

  "Excellency?"

  Bury turned. "Do you have something, Nabil?"

  "The records office is closed and the computer is not responsive, so we cannot check retinal pattern identifications tonight, but Wilfred has made progress. Neither the first or second assass
in had any trace of darkening in the lungs, no alcohol or drugs in the bloodstream."

  "Look for caffeine."

  Nabil nodded and spoke to the console.

  "Mormons," Renner said. "Narrows it a bit. I'm about to fall over, Horace."

  "To bed."

  Renner was naked in the sauna. Despite the water and vitamins he had taken the night before, his head throbbed, and his stomach rejected all notions of food. When cold air touched him, he bellowed, "Shut it!"

  Nabil smiled thinly. "You were more pleased to see me last night."

  "I was still drunk. What do you have?"

  "His Excellency wishes to see you. We have identified the assassins. They are crew members from Nauvoo Vision."

  "Nauvoo Vision?"

  "The name is Mormon. The ship belongs to Imperial Autonetics."

  Renner whistled. "To Bury? Why in hell would crew from one of Bury's ships try to kill Bury's pilot?"

  "Not kill. Kidnap," Nabil said. He carefully closed the sauna door.

  "Nauvoo Vision," Bury said. "Captain Reuben Fox. A native of Maxroy's Purchase. Mormon, and recruits Mormon crew."

  "Corruptible?" Renner asked.

  Bury shrugged. "I have never had reason to find out. It would be worthwhile smuggling opal meerschaum if there were enough of it, but in fact it is very rare. Nothing else this world exports carries a tariff."