Free Lord of Janissaries by Jerry Pournelle, Roland J. Green Page A

legendary creatures.
    He also encouraged her to study Tran. She might think of something useful, something that would aid the mercenaries. “It would help a lot if you could,” he said.
    “Why?”
    “If they succeed, they’ll make a lot of money for the traders. Traders have influence with the Council. Won’t hurt my career.”
    She stared in disbelief. “I—I thought I knew you better than that,” she said. “Don’t you care about the people on Tran? They’re human . Don’t you care?”
    “Oddly enough, I do care,” Les said. “Enough, in fact, to see if I can think of any way to help the mercenaries succeed with a minimum of slaughter. Because, you see, they really have to succeed—”
    “Why?”
    He ignored her question. “Can you think of anything that would help?”
    “I don’t know,” Gwen said. “All the information I’ve seen is very old—”
    “About six hundred years old,” Les said. “No one’s been there since, except for one fairly recent fly-by. We know they’re still pretty primitive down there. No railroads, industries, paved roads. No technological civilization.”
    “But no one has landed for six hundred years?”
    Les nodded.
    “But I thought this crop was valuable—”
    “It is. But there are some powerful reasons for the Shalnuksis to stay far away from Tran.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s best you know. Tran’s not in the Council’s data banks. Except for the Shalnuksis and a few humans who work for them, no one knows the planet exists.”
    He seemed very serious, and she knew he already regretted trusting her with even that much information. She wanted to tell him that he could trust her with anything, that she’d always be loyal to him no matter what he was doing. That thought shocked her because she’d never thought such a thing before. And was it even true? “What would happen if the—the Council found out?”
    Les shook his head. “I don’t know.” He was silent for a moment.
    She waited, hoping he’d trust her again, but instead he said, “But it wouldn’t be good for me. The Shalnuksis would lose control. They’d never get their crop harvested.”
    “But without information, how can they expect a small group of mercenaries to get them anything?”
    “Maybe they can’t.” There was definite worry in the pilot’s voice. “But it is important. Have you any suggestions?”
    “This doesn’t make sense,” Gwen said. “You say the crop is valuable, but they don’t visit the source for hundreds of years—”
    “Oh. Yes,” Les said. “But you see, the real surinomaz won’t grow under normal conditions on Tran. Just for a few years out of every six hundred. But for about five years, starting a couple years from now, it grows very well. The mercenaries could demand a pretty stiff price if they knew it.” He sighed. “I guess the best thing will be to set them down near a small village in the right geographical region and hope they’re intelligent enough to manage.”
    “They won’t even know the languages—”
    “They’ll have to learn them.”
    “Why six hundred years?”
    “Orbits,” the pilot said. “Tran has two main suns. Both a little bigger and a little hotter than Sol. Planet’s farther away from either of them, so it’s not as warm. Reasonable climate, actually. But even with both suns, surinomaz won’t grow properly. It’s only a weed until the third sun comes close, but then for a short time it’s the best stuff in the galaxy.”
    “But what is surinomaz ?”
    “Ever hear of Acapulco Gold?” the pilot asked.
    “Marijuana—you mean drugs?”
    “In a way. Look, back on Earth, you’ve just discovered endogenous morphiates. Know what I’m talking about? No? Well, it turns out that the brain manufactures its own painkillers and euphoric drugs. Chemicals similar to morphines. Enough of them in your system, and you have a natural high. Surinomaz makes the stuff, only by the barrelful. It has about the