Mahmut managed a small smile. “You have growing sons of your own?”
“No, but I remember how it felt to be young and handling my first command station,” Guns replied. “It’s hard enough, without having a father to please.”
“Then you will understand why I must apologize for my son’s behavior,” Mahmut said. “And why I tell you that nothing of our earlier discussion has been passed on.”
“Including the true strength of our pods,” Tucker said anxiously.
“Indeed. Your hold remains sealed by your own men. Your secret is safe.” He looked from one face to the next. “I trust that your request for astrogation guidance is not an idle one.”
Guns glanced at Tucker, who said, “Tell him.”
“We think we have found the planet called Citadel,” Guns said, turning back to Mahmut. “The lass here followed four ships out on an uncharted course this very morning.”
“Just when the chieftains placed this planet on quarantine.”Dark eyes peered at Consuela with fierce intensity. “Is this indeed the planet from which the firestones come?”
“I don’t know,” Consuela replied honestly. “I was looking for my friend. Nothing else.”
“But it would make sense,” Tucker offered. “There’s no other reason for them to take such a risk.”
“They’re headed to one of the planets in that system,” Guns added. “And we need to go there ourselves. Will you help us?”
Mahmut gave his beard another stroke, then nodded once. “Right now.”
Chapter Eighteen
“What’s this I hear of mutiny?” the diplomat demanded.
Wander and Digs had tried to lose themselves at the back of the crowd, but to their alarm, the senior monitor had ordered them to the front row. There they stood, unable to escape the diplomat’s furious glare.
They had been summoned with the other few who had chosen to stand watch, after the panic and the fears of an invasion. For the first time that Wander could recall, the cavern was left utterly empty, the listening stations unattended. Wander followed the others into the meeting hall, and though his legs were quaking, allowed himself to be led down front.
A querulous voice from the back spoke up. “We were tired—”
“Silence!” At the front of the chamber, the diplomat’s midnight robes swirled as he strode angrily up and down the dais. “It is unthinkable that what I have heard might be true. Especially when the emperor’s own supreme pilot, the head of your sect, is at this very moment making way for Citadel.”
A tight shudder passed through the assembly. Wander glanced to his left, where Digs met his eye and gave a slight shrug of incomprehension. Wander looked to where the senior monitor stood on Digs’ other side, and felt a chill of unreasoned fear when he realized that the unshakable old man was gray and sweating.
“Ah,” the diplomat said with satisfaction, surveying the assembly. “I see that some of the elders among us recall the last time the emperor’s pilot graced us with his presence. Good. Take note of what they have to tell you. Tomorrow you will all have the honor of explaining your behavior in person. And be forewarned that all who do not answer satisfactorily will be invited to try a second time.” The smile that suddenly creased the diplomat’s features was perilous. “With Imperial dragoons there to assist you.”
Wander shared the assembly’s second tremor, but for a different reason. The emporer’s pilot and more Imperial soldiers were to arrive tomorrow.
The diplomat turned his attention to the few monitors who stood alongside Digs and Wander on the front row. “Despite the fact that we were facing a possible attack, you were the only ones to stand to your stations. I shall allow the Supreme Pilot to determine your rewards. Except for you,” he said, his gaze focusing upon Wander and Digs. “Stand forth, the both of you.”
Wander took the step forward on shaking legs and waited.
“Our two youngest watch standers have shamed you all,” he said to the assembly, his eyes remaining upon Wander. “You are both hereby awarded full status. Welcome to the ranks, Monitors.”
“Thank you, sir,” Wander said, his own voice a dull echo of Digs’ triumphant response.
“It is traditional for a new monitor to be granted a boon. Name your request.”
Wander did not need to think it out. “We’d like to return to duty.”
He could feel Digs turning a dumbfounded gaze his way and shot a swift elbow into his friend’s ribs. Digs jerked back to full alert and said, “The stations are unmanned, and we still don’t know what’s out there.”
A gaze cold as space observed them a moment longer, then the diplomat said quietly, “Your request is noted. Dismissed. The rest of you, stand at attention as your betters depart.”
Eyes upon the floor at his feet, Wander followed Digs through the silent assembly. As they approached the hall’s main portals, a voice to one side hissed, “We too have made note of your request.”
“Traitors,” another seethed.
When the portals were closed behind them, they walked the empty hallway in echoing stillness until Digs said, “I hope your friends show up. Otherwise we may not have long to enjoy our new status.”
Wander nodded and quickened his pace. “We have to hurry.”
Chapter Nineteen
They came in the late afternoon. A full contingent of Yalla guards marched up with Abdul, who stepped forward and announced, “We are ready.”
“Is that so.” Tucker rose to his feet from the gaming table. “You hear that, Guns? They’re ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“A very good question, that is. Ready for what, I ask as well, bringing along a full bevy of armed soldiers.”
“You wanted to communicate with the mother ship,” Abdul retorted. “It is a rare privilege to be permitted into the tribe’s quarters. This is your honor guard.”
“A privilege,” Tucker repeated, his eyes casting doubt on all they touched. “Well, Guns, it looks like your predictions have come true after all.”
“Aye,” the grizzled veteran agreed, and demanded of Abdul, “Where’s Mahmut?”
Flanked by the guards, it was possible to see how the desert blood flowed in Abdul’s veins, in the aquiline features, the knife-edge to his chin and cheekbones, the glittering cast to his eyes. “Alas, my honorable father has been called to a meeting of the chieftains.”
“How timely,” Guns muttered, and motioned to Rick. “You completed that work I set for you?”
“Not yet,” Rick said, his eyes still on Abdul.
“Then you’ll just have to stay put and do your work.”
“But, Guns—”
“That’s an order, flyer!”
“Aye, aye, Guns.” Rick turned and stomped off to the stone-draped pod.
Abdul watched the exchange in consternation. “But he is to come with us!”
“Why?” Tucker demanded, shifting his bulk up oppressively close. “A pod flyer’s not required to draw information from your memory banks.”
Guns stepped up alongside. “Just what is it you’ve got in store?”
“Nothing, he, I . . . nothing.” Angrily Abdul gathered himself. “If you are coming, come now!”
“Right with you.” Guns nodded to Tucker, turned back to the pod. “First I need to make sure the boy understands his business.”
“No weapons. You will be searched,” Abdul added.
“Of course we will.” Guns disappeared as Tucker raised his arms and submitted to a rough jostling by the guards.
When Guns returned from speaking with Rick, he walked over to Consuela and said softly, “You mind coming with us, lass?”
“But you don’t need me.”
“Ah, but we do.” He handed her the cloak he carried. “Might do best if you cover yourself a bit more.”
“But I—”
“Humor an old man,” he said, keeping his back to the suspicious guards. “Here, let me help you.” He slung it over her shoulders, then fastene
d it at her neck with a glittering silver clasp. “There. Much better.”
The robe’s clasp was heavy, with a single blue stone at its center. She fingered it and asked softly, “What is this all about, Guns?”
“Nothing, I hope.” He turned around and allowed himself to be thoroughly searched.
Abdul pointed at Consuela and demanded, “She comes with us.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Guns agreed cheerfully. But when the guards moved toward Consuela, both he and Tucker stepped in close. They hovered over the guards as they searched her, and observed in menacing silence. The guards hastily completed their frisking and stepped back.
“This way,” Abdul said, smiling fiercely.
“Hang on a second,” Tucker said. He ducked inside the transport and came out with a small flat rectangle. He handed it over for inspection, saying, “Wouldn’t help us to go unless we had a portable memory for storing the information.”
Abdul accepted the box, flipped open the lid, keyed the console, nodded, and handed it to one of the guards.
“Just your basic portable set,” Guns offered.
Clearly the guard agreed. His fingers searched out the catches, opened the back slot, checked everything carefully, then handed it back. Abdul rapped out, “We go.”
The tunnel was large enough for the three visitors to be flanked on all sides. The few tribesfolk they passed refused even to look their way.
A hundred paces farther in, the tunnel opened into yet another cavern. They were led toward a series of small transport-platforms and instructed to step aboard. Instantly the railings slid up, the platforms lifted, and they were away.
Consuela did not try to hide her interest as they traversed tunnel after tunnel. This was not some impoverished series of underground dwellings, but a civilization rich in culture and tradition. Even at their high speed, she could make out how all the internal tunnels were decorated with brilliant murals of vibrant scenes. The caverns themselves were equally impressive. Far overhead, translucent skylights allowed in soft filtered light. They illuminated walled worlds of green, for each of the caverns was centered upon an underground spring. Water bubbled into lakes and carefully managed rivulets. Trees bloomed in gardens of flowers and vegetables and fruit vineyards. Birds with brilliant coloration flitted alongside their platforms, singing strident challenges to these other flyers.
They entered yet another tunnel, which took an upward slant. Higher and higher they climbed, leaving Consuela to wonder how they could make such an ascent and yet still remain underground.
Eventually the platforms landed in an antechamber whose vaulted ceiling rose to a high peak. Abdul alighted and brusquely motioned them forward. “In here.”
They followed him through a pair of powered doors, which slid open at their approach. Consuela took a step inside and stopped with a gasp.
The room was ringed with communication and computing equipment. Above it rose great windows, which looked out over a billowing yellow sea.
They had climbed up inside the center of a mountain, she realized, stepping closer to the thick sheets of glass. They were now so high that the planet’s perpetual storms were below them. The clouds of sand rose and puffed like ghostly yellow waves, churning and swirling in glistening streams.
“Of course,” Tucker said. “Transmission would be better if they could stay above the worst of the gales.”
“Enough,” Abdul snapped. “Give me the memory console.”
“Just a minute there,” Tucker responded, and turned to Guns. “You know this rig?”
“Trained on one just like it,” Guns affirmed.
Tucker turned back to Abdul and said, “The deal was, you connect us with the ship’s onboard memory, then we are left alone.”
“But I—”
“Alone,” Tucker repeated. “Your father agreed to this.”
Abdul looked from one to the other in helpless fury, then spun about and began coding in. He waited a second, then snarled, “Be quick about it,” and stomped for the doors, signaling the guards to follow.
Guns stepped to the console, searched a moment, grunted when he recognized the configuration, and swiftly made the connections from the communicator to his portable set.
“Seal the circuits,” Tucker reminded him.
“Just seeing to that,” Guns agreed, pulling up a chair and working swiftly. “Okay, that’s done.”
Immediately Tucker moved up close to Consuela and said, “We’re in. Stand at the ready.”
Consuela took a confused step backward and asked, “Ready for what?”
“Ready for the coding,” Guns replied.
Consuela looked from one to the other. “But I don’t—”
“Here is the coding from Mahmut.” Tucker drew a paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and began droning out a series of numbers and letters, giving time for Guns to punch them in. There followed a tense moment, until Guns announced, “Receiving.”
“Make it fast,” Tucker said.
Another span of a dozen heartbeats, then, “All done.”
“Check for error,” Tucker urged. “We won’t get a second chance.”
Another hesitation, then, “Up and running.”
“Here it comes then,” Tucker muttered, and stepped toward the portal.
Instantly the doors slid back to reveal Abdul and the guards. The merchant’s son was smiling yet again, an evil grimace that stretched his entire face out of shape. The guards stood with blasters at the ready. “You are finished,” Abdul announced.
“We were just about to tell you the same thing,” Guns agreed easily.
“My father’s orders have been carried out,” Abdul announced. “You have received the secret information. But you will never have an opportunity to use it.”
“What about the lass here? She’s done nothing wrong.” Tucker drew her close with a heavy arm on her shoulders, then said, “Alarm, alarm.”
“What was that?” Abdul snapped.
“He said, alarm,” Guns agreed. “And that’s exactly what we think. It’s alarming that you would think of dishonoring your father like this.”
“I have done exactly as he ordered,” Abdul retorted, his face flaming. “It is you who poisoned his mind with thoughts of honor, when you will take your coin and turn against him.”
“The only one who’s turned against him is you,” Tucker said, risking a nervous glance around and out of the windows. He turned back, gave Guns a slight shrug.
“I am protecting our caravan!” Abdul rapped out. He signaled the guards forward.
Guns turned fully about, muttering, “What’s going on here?”
“Maybe the storm stopped the signal,” Tucker murmured and turned around as well, drawing Consuela with him as the guards moved to surround them.
“Yes, look well,” Abdul said. “For you will never again see the light of day.”
“Trouble,” Guns muttered.
“The storm,” Tucker agreed. “Should have thought of that.”
“Too late for regrets,” Abdul crowed. “You are now my . . .”
His words trailed off when one by one the guards murmured and pointed and cried out as a stone dot puffed up through the billowing sandstorm and shot toward them. Just outside the window, the guard pod stopped and hovered.
Tucker turned and announced, “Looks like the tables have turned.”
“He won’t shoot,” Abdul cried, struggling to rally the nervous guards. “He wouldn’t dare. He’d only be shooting his own people!”
“The lad,” Guns replied, with his battle hardened grin, “doesn’t have to shoot.”
With an explosion so powerful that the windows quaked and the floor beneath their feet shivered, the pod erupted. The guards cowered and covered their heads, then slowly rose back when the windows held. They stared dumbfounded at a midnight black flyer shaped like the head of a spear.
“Lay down your weapons,” Tucker ordered. “All of you.”
“Shoot them!
” Abdul screamed.
Guns leaned towards Consuela and rapped out, “Blade! Attack sequence now!”
Instantly a tongue of brilliant white energy shot from the front of the pod. Deftly the flyer maneuvered forward and sliced through window and wall as though they were butter.
That proved more than the guards had bargained for. They made for the portal in a mad rush. When Abdul tried to stop them, he was flung to the floor. Which meant he was the only outsider to witness the arrival of five other Blades from the depths of that deep blue sky.
Tucker swung around and said to Consuela, “Blade Three, go back and escort the transporter down.”
Instantly one of the fighter-pods swung away and descended back into the billowing storm.
“Her brooch is a microphone,” Abdul rasped, struggling to rise. “You tricked me.”
“Stay where you are,” Tucker commanded, hefting one of the discarded blasters.
“Don’t hurt him,” Consuela pleaded.
“I ought to fry him to a crisp,” Tucker grated. “But it would be a dishonor to his father, who is a man among men.”
When Abdul realized he was not to be harmed, he turned his attention back to the melted windows and the pods beyond. His eyes narrowed. “Elemental trinium,” he said. “I wonder what the emperor would pay to learn that rebel mercenaries were operating attack pods of elemental trinium.”
“I wonder how well you’d serve your father without a tongue,” Tucker replied.
“Hold,” Guns ordered, then said to Abdul, “You should be glad, matey. They’re the only thing that kept you from sitting in the belly of a stinking slaver.”
“Gratitude is one of the many traits his father failed to teach him,” Tucker said, glowering.
Guns motioned toward the window and announced, “Our transport is here.”
The first Blade to have arrived, the one piloted by Rick, switched off his brilliant power-lance. Gently Rick then nudged the outer wall, pressing in, shoving through rock and molten glass, sending dust and stones billowing inward. The communication equipment sparked and fizzled as it was pushed farther and farther back. The Blade shifted to one side, making a larger space where the transporter could move in and land alongside.
The Dream Voyagers Page 35
