"You think there's any chance of finding anything at all in that mess?" Sep asked, gesturing toward the pile of rubble.
"It would be at the farther edge. The thing was falling in on itself and slightly leaning this way. It should be some fifty meters from where the back wall was, fairly in the center of the left wing. The holos were in a cabinet that should have protected them well. I remember snapping the lock of the door—a very nice double catch. The entire cabinet was built together with a desktop below. The whole thing must have been about two meters wide by three tall. Made of solid metal with duraplast doors. It should be easily detectable with a metal detector. Of course, there's a lot of metal in that pile. But just maybe..."
"We'll give it a try," said Sep. "And if that doesn't work, we'll think of something else. I trust your judgment, Ardan. If you say you were alert, then, by damn, you were alert. You say you know where the hallucination left off and the reality began, and that's good enough for me." She rose and dusted the dried grass from her uniform.
Jarlik groaned to his feet, too. "Better make tracks before it starts to get light. We need to skip out of here so we can come back all nice and tidy and official."
Ref offered Ardan a hand up. "I never expected anything like this when Sep volunteered me for this duty. I wonder what sort of reception we'll get from the commandant tomorrow. Duke Michael's men are back in charge of garrisoning the Folly, now that the counterinvasion is over."
It turned out that Ref had hit the nail on the head. The commandant, a Hasek-Davion officer detached from the Syrtis Fusiliers and commanding a combination of Eridani Light Horse and Davion regulars, seemed indifferent, if not actively hostile.
"I have a world that has been fought over, trampled, detonated, and otherwise disrupted within a centimeter of its life. The civilian population is devastated, and there are more demands on my time and manpower than I can possibly attend to. And now you ask me to go dig in a booby-trapped installation for something you think might be there? I beg your pardon!"
He looked simultaneously irritated and nauseated.
"Then you will not object if we borrow some detection gear and go look for ourselves," Sep half-asked and half-stated.
The commandant looked startled, but gave in with a weary shrug. "I suppose not. But do be cautious. Those engineers are good at their job. The booby traps are not to be taken lightly."
Assuring him that they would take care, Sep led her companions on their way as quickly as was polite. It seemed safe to add Ardan to their group when they stopped at the DropShip for their transport, an all-purpose ground-effect machine. They hid him beneath a pile of probes and detectors, and nobody gave them a second look as they left the port city.
They travelled quickly, talking very little. It was lucky that the commandant had not insisted upon sending one of his officers along as a precaution. It would have been rather awkward, trying to explain how they came to be investigating an installation whose booby trap had already gone off. The coincidence would hardly be overlooked.
They drove south this time, circling around the southernmost finger of the Yaeger Mountains, then up through the foothills along the eastern coast of the peninsula. The marks of the war were everywhere, having left great burnt slashes of black on the green-tan grassfields. Houses broken like dropped eggs. Fields gouged out with the tracks of 'Mechs who had battled it out.
Ardan found himself thinking of that other ruined landscape, and the child in the valley. The memory was sad, but the horror had gone. The wail of the child had grown faint, and the pain, though never to be lost entirely, had become bearable.
They came around a low growth of trees. Before them should have been the ruins of the installation, but where the piles of debris had been, there was now a deep depression.
"Damn!" grunted Jarlik. "Was that part of the booby trap, or did the bedrock cave in under the shift in weight?"
They pulled up and piled out of the vehicle. A gigantic, saucer-shaped hole lay at the spot where the building had stood. They ran to the edge and peered over it.
Twenty meters below them, the ferrocrete and everything else had been returned to something like their natural state. Nothing recognizable remained among the dusty tumbles of dirt and rock.
Somehow, Ardan was not surprised. He was beginning to feel like a pawn on a gigantic chessboard, moved here and there, his perceptions a part of the game, his will irrelevant.
"I think this was deliberate. Some secondary effect meant to occur if the primary booby trap was triggered. Someone wanted that building entirely lost to human examination." He laughed harshly. "They did a damn good job."
Sep put a hand on Ardan's shoulder. "Not as good as you did in rescuing those other holos you showed us aboard ship," she said. "They'll make damn good proof!"
26
Ardan believed there was only one thing to do. Hanse was in residence on Argyle, and he must join him there. Sep, Jarlik, and Ref, however, must follow through with their 'holiday' if they were not to arouse suspicion. They had to spend at least a short time in study and rest on Stein's Folly.
We'll take you back up to your DropShip," said Sep. "From there, you can catch up with the Steiner JumpShip that brought you."
Ardan nodded. "But I don't think I'll return openly. Something tells me that the people behind this whole thing want me to run straight to Hanse, in full view of everyone, as soon as I find a way.
"If I seem to disappear—which I have now effectively done—and cannot be located on any observable ship or freighter, maybe it will force the conspirators into moving faster than they had planned. They'll be uncertain about me. Did I accept my own disability more than they had intended? Have I become depressed and done away with myself? They won't know for certain." He grinned.
"Steiner is totally safe. Neither of the Archons will breathe a word about the how and when of my departure. And nobody could possibly know about your leaving Argyle, Sep. Only you and Hanse and the pilot were in on that. So I should be able to slip into Argyle and lose myself there.
"I know the Summer Palace like the back of my hand. There are ways of getting in that others may not be aware of. I can get to Hanse without anyone knowing I'm near. Come as soon as it looks reasonable."
Sep started the vehicle, which rose quickly on its cushion of air and headed back toward the port city.
* * * *
Ardan landed openly at the commercial port on Argyle, then spent the rest of the morning making his way to the palace grounds.
It was just after noon, and there were few workers visible about the storage sheds and in the gardens around the Summer Palace at Argyle. Wearing some clothes he'd found aboard the DropShip, Ardan aroused no more curiosity than any other Tech coming in to work. He ducked into one of the sheds and found the ranks of lockers assigned to workers around the private port
Though he hated doing it, he went through each one until he found a clean overall of the dark blue favored by Personnel for garden staff. After changing into it, he left a coin worth two of the suits.
Now, for the next step. He went into the lavatory, which, to his relief, was empty. Staring into the mirror, Ardan pondered his light brown hair with its hint of curl, his narrow amber eyes, the high cheekbones. What could he do to alter them?
Glancing about at the antiseptic room, his mind quickly hit on an idea. He gathered together a dispenser of boot-blackener, the box of towels for taking grease off the hands before washing, and a dispenser of eye-protectors for those about to do welding.
Ardan put a dab of the blackener into the palm of his left hand. With the fingers of his right, he worked the sticky stuff through his hair. It was nasty to work with, but once he had it well applied, he scrubbed his hair fiercely with some of the towelling, rubbing away the excess greasiness.
When he ran his comb through his altered locks, they lay flat and dingy. The change in his appearance was astonishing.
He nodded with satisfaction. Next, he ripped off a strip of tow
el and rolled it tightly. One of those in each jaw changed the line of his face remarkably. With the goggles bent to a less identifiable shape, their clear frame blackened to resemble glare-glasses, his eyes and cheekbones were adequately concealed.
Studying himself in the glass, Ardan realized that his own father might well pass him by without recognizing him. Now he could see about finding and warning Hanse to take care.
There was no trick to making his way through the gardens. His authorized thumbprints would permit him to move about the Summer Palace. After all, the mechanisms made no distinction between the thumbs of warriors and those of servants.
He found the thick hedge of flowering shrubbery that he had picked as his access point Looking about and seeing no one, Ardan dropped to hands and knees and crawled through the drooping fronds. He knew that behind this shrubbery was a narrow space leading to the corner of the wing.
About three meters in, he found the crawlspace he remembered. Its grillwork yielded to his all-purpose pocket tool, and then Ardan found himself standing in the shadows of the upper winecellar.
He moved briskly toward the steps leading up into the service wing. Reaching the top stair, he heard a woman's sharp voice: "I say! What are you doing inside the palace? You gardeners have strict orders to remain outside at all times! Explain yourself, if you please!"
He groaned silendy. Fani Lettik was the proverbial pain in the butt, whether you were a MechWarrior, a noble, a gardener, or a cook.
Ardan turned, his attitude expressing outrage. "I am in the process of inspecting a defective grillwork for the Maître of the Household," he snapped. "I have entered the palace through a totally unauthorized opening, which must be repaired at once. It's a good thing I was checking the shrubbery for root-rot!" He glared, nose-to-nose with the woman who knew him so well.
She stepped back. Fani was, he knew, a flaming snob, keeping her distance from anyone below her in rank. Her yellowish face turned faintly pink.
"Then do so at once, and return to your duties!" she snapped. "Root-rot, indeed!" Fani mumbled, as she turned away, no doubt to search out some other poor bastard whom she could give a hard time.
Ardan restrained a chuckle. It was the only time in his life that he had bested the woman, and it had to be in the guise of a Palace gardener!
He moved through the service wing by the least traveled corridors. At this time of day, the living quarters were empty, and he cut through those, climbing narrow service stairs and scooting through cubbies known only to the staff of the huge household.
At last he came to a passage that intersected the main corridor, where Hanse's study was situated. Ardan didn't know the guard at the door, and he would never pass as a gardener, that was certain.
He retreated down the hall. There was a spare room he had often used on those nights when duty kept him too late to return to the barracks. Would it still be unused by anyone else? Knowing Hanse, Ardan felt almost certain his friend would have appointed the room for him, whether Ardan were present or not at the time of the move to Argyle.
He had to lurk behind draperies and behind tall furniture more than once, as he made his way to the familiar door. He set his thumb against the plate.
Hearing the familiar click, Ardan sighed with relief. If the room was ready, he was almost certain to find at least one change of clothing there.
The chamber looked no different than at any other time he had seen it. Indeed, he might only have left it the day before. Uniforms were lined up in the clothing-cubicle, and there was soap and shampoo in the Cleaner. He was in business!
The grubby gardener disappeared in minutes, his coverall stuffed down the Disposal, along with the goggles and wads of towelling. When Ardan stepped out into the corridor again, it was as his most resplendent self.
"I might as well impress the hell out of them, while I'm at it," he had told his reflection in the mirror. He wore his best uniform, the one trimmed with gold, decorated with bright rows of medals, and with the Federated Suns emblem worked in gems.
Ardan strode up the corridor now, paying no heed to the startled glances of those he passed. Nobody could get to Hanse ahead of him, he knew. He was almost at the door.
The guard stiffened to attention. "Sir!" he barked.
Ardan nodded pleasantly and set his thumb against the identity plate. At once, the familiar voice called out, "Ardan! Come in!"
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, setting in place the bar that prevented automatic unlocking. Hanse met him with outstretched arms, and Ardan returned the bear hug fiercely. "I was wrong," he said, as they stepped apart. "I know now that you do only what you have to do. So much has come into focus for me these past months. Forgive me, Hanse."
Hanse Davion was beaming down at him, his ruddy face bright with relief. "Oh, stow it! he said. "Just let me look at you. What happened out there, Ardan?"
It was to be, of course, a very long tale. They sat together before the window that gave a wide view of the land around the eminence where the palace sat. This was a soft country, the cornucopia of this part of the system. Wide fields were edged with walls to prevent erosion. Flocks of birds wheeled overhead.
Ardan sighed with pleasure at the view. "How good it is to be here! I never much liked Argyle before...too quiet and peaceful. But now I can stand any amount of that, and then some more." He turned to his Prince and began the account of all that had recendy happened.
When he fell silent at last, Hanse sat still, staring at him. Ardan could feel his old friend weighing his story, assessing his appearance and his attitude. The Prince had doubtless been advised that Ardan Sortek was mentally ill. Now he had to make his own decision.
Ardan rose and moved to the window. A shuttle was moving downward onto the private port. Messengers or bureaucrats, he supposed. He turned back to Hanse.
"I am convinced that there is a conspiracy of some sort afoot. Why else would I have been allowed to see the double and then to escape? Even Lees thought that escape was suspiciously easy. I suspect that he must have reported that to you."
The Prince rose and came to stand beside him. "I have been hearing many wild things about you," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "But I know you too well. Whatever happened out there, you are quite sane. But someone has done a remarkable job of trying to destroy your credibility. Why? I cannot imagine how anyone could expect to substitute another man for me."
Ardan set his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Your betrothed has quite a head on her young shoulders. She is the one who found the records of former impersonations. She is the one who set me to thinking about the suspicious ease of everything leading to my escape. She is the one who got her mother to lend me a JumpShip. Without that, I could not have hoped to leave Tharkad City without being seen and reported.
"She thought at least one of the doctors in attendance was involved in some way, and particularly asked me to warn you to be careful." Ardan smiled. "I believe that you have linked yourself with a woman who will be a joy to you. And not only politically."
Hanse looked at him quizzically. "A bit in love with her, yourself?" he asked gently.
The thought surprised Ardan. He was fond of Melissa, true, but that particular part of his heart seemed to be already occupied.
"Very fond of her," he said. "But there might be someone else. Some day. When things are suitable."
Hanse chuckled. "I can guess..." he started to say, before being cut off by a disturbance audible even through the thickness of the study door.
"What the...?" He went to the doorway and unlocked the portal, opening it with a jerk. "What on the Great Green Runway is going on?" he demanded. Then Hanse Davion stopped dead, his face turning very pale.
He was looking direcdy into his own eyes.
27
It was not easy for the Archon-Designate to do anything secretly, but Doctor Erl Karns never suspected Melissa's quiet surveillance.
Ardan had left Tharkad City at the dull and dreary tag-end of winter. With
the snow too soft for skiing and too deep for hiking, there were few other entertainments left. Nearly everyone in Tharkad was bored and resdess, now that the end of winter's rule seemed so near at hand. And so Melissa's ceaseless, seemingly aimless prowling about the great house of the Steiners did not seem strange. The computer system was, of course, her most valuable ally.
The Steiner library was comprehensive, updated constandy. Data files from every conceivable source poured into its unlimited capacity every day, including personal dossiers for anyone on Tharkad who had any dealing, however remote, with the royal family, the staff, the military, the diplomatic corps, known and suspected criminals, spies, and agents for commerce. There were few things that didn't find their way into that system, sooner or later.
Melissa knew her way around a computer system. She had learned her letters when she was two from such a source, and had been burrowing her way through all manner of exotic, boring, and unusual files ever since. She knew, too, how to cover her tracks after having sought out the dossier on Erl Karns. Not a trace remained on record to reveal that anyone had been asking questions about him.
She had, of course, told her mother what she intended doing. Katrina, loaded down with overseeing the many matters vital to the Commonwealth, had assented without giving the matter a second thought. So it was that when Melissa tapped on her study door early one morning with a hint of spring in the air, Katrina was astonished at the news the young woman brought to her.
"The good doctor Karns has had dealings with our enemies," Melissa told her. "More than once. He was on Luthien for four years, ostensibly to track down a virus that was plaguing the troops Kurita had stationed on Rasel-hague. Some sort of mysterious tropical disease."
"That's reasonable enough," said Katrina. "A doctor investigates many matters. A virus on one world, even an enemy one, can become a threat to many others, if left unchecked."
"Then he moved on to Capella, where he took an advanced degree in internal medicine, with emphasis on unusual viruses. From there, he went to New Syrtis, where he became an intimate of the Liao consular official. This was during a period of particular stress between the Davion interests that control that world and those of Kurita and Liao."
The sword and the dagger Page 19
