by Timothy Zahn
"Neither did I," Poirot shot back. "This is all an attempt to sow confus—"
"Enou'," Daasaa said, the warning in his voice cutting off the argument. "Re know the re'els are in the extra s'otters. Re rill ratch they, and thus disco'er their 'lan."
"I'm not entirely comfortable with that idea," Bailey said, choosing his words carefully. Daasaa carried a laser and short sword, too; and if he wasn't quite as skilled with the weaponry as Halaak, he was certainly skilled enough. "Whatever they're planning, having those bandits among our own spotters could mean trouble."
"Yae rould destroy they?" Daasaa asked.
"Or try to capture them," Bailey said.
"You do that and you'll spook them for sure," Poirot warned.
"Not if we do it right," Bailey insisted. "We just have to come up with a plausible reason for bringing the spotters down."
Daasaa muttered something in Ryqrili, his dark eyes strangely distant as he thought it over. "Re rill not risk it," he said at last. "Yae rill not sto' the new s'otters."
Bailey took a deep breath. "As you command, Your Eminence. Major, inform the spotters of the newcomers from Boulder, and order them to fit them into the formation. Then order Spotters Three, Five, and Six to form up behind them."
"Yes, sir," the controller said.
Bailey looked across at Poirot, silently daring him to argue. But the general merely spared him a single, unreadable look before turning back to his own study of the monitors.
Ramirez cleared his throat. "Something you want to say, Lieutenant?" Bailey invited.
Ramirez's lip twitched. Clearly, he wasn't any happier about this than Bailey was. "No, sir," he said.
"I didn't think so," Bailey said.
No, Ramirez wasn't happy. Bailey just wished he knew exactly which part of the situation the lieutenant was unhappy about.
* * *
Convoy out of view, Flynn signaled.
Acknowledged, Skyler sent back, doing a quick mental calculation. So far, the convoy seemed to be doing the legal speed limit—no real surprise, given that it was pretending to be normal city traffic. If it maintained that pace, it ought to be coming into O'Hara's view in about two minutes.
Time to turn up the heat a little farther. Launch diversion two.
* * *
Acknowledged, Flynn signaled back. "Party time," he called to Anne, crossing to the window.
To the window, and the four dozen helium balloons undulating gently as they pressed against the ceiling. Somehow, Flynn couldn't help thinking that using children's balloons didn't really fit well with the blackcollar dramatic mystique.
Still, as long as they got the results, dramatic mystique could go hop.
He slid the window open and caught one of the balloons by the wire hanging down beneath it, being careful not to disturb the large blasting cap that hung from the wire's other end. Collecting three more balloons, he pulled the group to the window.
"Watch those bombs," Anne warned.
"I'm watching them," Flynn assured her, maneuvering the foursome out into the evening air. They floated leisurely upward, the lift of the helium almost balanced by the weight of the blasting caps hanging beneath them. "You'd better get downstairs," he added. "Once these start flying, it's not going to take them long to backtrack them here."
"Right," Anne said, scooping up her portable radio set and heading toward the door. "Don't you hang around after they're gone, either." Opening the door, she glanced both directions down the hallway and headed toward the elevator.
"No worries there," Flynn said under his breath. Getting hold of the next four, he sent them out the window behind the first group. By the time the last four balloons were away, the first ones had risen high enough over the apartment building's roof to be caught by the northerly wind. They were heading south at a brisk pace now, the later ones falling into line behind them.
All of them heading straight for the Athena perimeter fence.
Flynn grinned to himself as he headed for the door. Yes, the plan lacked dignity. Just the same, he would give a month off the far end of his life to see Security's faces when they realized just what was attacking them.
He and Anne were driving west when the brilliant flicker of laser fire began to light up the evening sky.
* * *
"Green Mountain lasers firing!" someone snapped from across the situation room.
"Where?" Bailey snapped back, pushing past Ramirez as he sprinted over to the defense station.
"North fence," the tech reported, bizarrely colored images flashing across his displays as he sorted through the various monitor images. "No speed—no metal—small explosives—"
"Got it," his neighbor said, and a full view appeared on the main monitor display.
Bailey felt his jaw drop. "Balloons?"
The words were barely out of his mouth when another pair drifted above the fence and vanished as the defense lasers targeted them. "Yes, sir," the tech confirmed. "They're helium-filled balloons" —a pair of small flickers of fire appeared at the top of the fence itself— "with small explosives tethered underneath."
"What in the world are they trying to do?" Ramirez muttered from Bailey's side. "They can't get explosives into Athena that way. Can they?"
"They shouldn't be able to," Bailey agreed, one of the recorded conversations between Poirot and Skyler flickering through his mind. It couldn't be very much bigger than primer cap size, though. Unless you know some trick about that?
These explosives were indeed primer-cap sized. But the balloons delivering them were much larger, obviously large enough to trigger the defenses. Had Skyler thought the lack of metal or high-speed movement would let them slip over the wall? There was another multiple flicker from the lasers, and another set of small explosions from the top of the fence.
The fence.
"Security units to the north fence," he snapped toward the duty officer near the door. "Double-time it."
"What is it?" Ramirez asked, his head turning back and forth as he looked between the various displays.
"They're not trying to get those blasting caps into Athena," Bailey bit out from between clenched teeth. "They're trying to knock out the wall's targeting sensors."
"But they can't do that," Poirot protested. "Can they?"
"There!" the tech snapped, pointing to the display as something dark shot out and up from a window in one of the buildings across the wide open area outside the wall, trailing a thin rope or cable behind it. It hit the top of the fence and stuck, its trailing rope pulling taut. "Colonel?"
"I see it," Bailey gritted, turning to the two Ryqril. "It's a grappling hook, Your Eminences."
"'Rotect at runce," Halaak bellowed. The big khassq had his laser pistol out now, swinging it around the situation room as if looking for a target.
"Security forces on their way, Your Eminence," the duty officer called, his voice cracking a little as the Ryq's waving laser pistol waved his direction. "But it'll be several minutes before they can get there."
"Several minutes may be too late," Bailey said, staring at the image on the display. The tiny bombs were still peppering the top of the fence, wrecking or confusing or stunning the sensors there, and two more grappling hooks had joined the first in attaching themselves to the damaged section. But so far there was no sign of the blackcollars themselves. "Battle Architect, I'd like your permission to pull back some of the ambush forces."
"No," Halaak snapped. "Re nust ca'ture the 'lackcollars."
"Just the ones the convoy has already passed," Bailey told him. "They're the ones closest to the north fence anyway. We can have them surround that house, maybe hit the blackcollars or Phoenix forces before they even get over the wall."
Daasaa nodded his head sharply. "Dae it," he ordered.
Bailey caught the duty officer's eye. "You heard him," he said. "Everyone the convoy has already passed is to converge on that building."
"Yes, sir."
"And keep an eye on those two Boulder b
andits," Bailey added to the spotter controller. "If they're going to make a move against Athena, this'll be the time for it."
* * *
Convoy approaching, O'Hara's signal came.
Rear guard returning to fence, Flynn added. Spotters have been ordered to watch intruders.
And if the spotters were keeping an eye on each other, Skyler knew, they would have that many fewer eyes focused on the drama about to unfold beneath them. So far, everything was going according to plan.
He looked across the street, where Kanai was peering at him over the edge of the taller building there. Catching his eye, Skyler gave him a thumbs-up, then turned and did the same to Hawking, twenty meters away on Skyler's same rooftop. Alert blockers, he signaled O'Hara.
Blockers ready.
Skyler took a deep breath and crouched down by the edge of the roof, flexing his fingers as he prepared for action. Any minute now ...
And then, there they were, coming down the wide street toward their rooftop positions: a car followed by six unmarked vans followed by another car. Just about as obvious as it was possible to be.
He looked down at the street. One of the quiet Security vans was parked half a block away, but all the sparse civilian traffic was out of the ambush zone. There were a few pedestrians strolling the walkways, but they should have time to get out before things got messy.
Stand ready, he signaled. The lead car passed his position, then the first van, then the second— Now.
And in response, a large tanker truck lurched into view from an alley ahead, pulling across the street directly in front of the convoy. Even as the cars and vans screeched to a halt, a second tanker turned a corner a street back and rolled into blocking position behind them.
"You're surrounded and outgunned," O'Hara's amplified voice called, the multiple echoes from the canyon of buildings making it impossible to tell where exactly the voice was coming from. "Come out, lay down your weapons, and surrender."
For a moment nothing happened. Then, in perfect unison, the car and van doors were flung open and drivers and guards spilled out onto the pavement.
Only it wasn't the two or three guards per prisoner that Poirot had said would be along for the ride. Instead, there were nearly three dozen Security men in full riot armor now scrambling to take up defensive positions behind doors and at the sides of their vehicles, their paral-dart and flechette rifles pointed in all directions, including up. At the same time, the vans' sunroofs slid open and more Security men popped into view, this group cradling heavy laser rifles in their arms.
Mentally, Skyler shook his head. So very predictable. Fire, he ordered.
And with a muffled sploosh, each of the two tankers began spilling a thick, viscous fluid from beneath it, fluid that began flowing slowly down the street toward the convoy.
Two seconds later, both flows burst into brilliant, yellow-white flame.
It was even more impressive than Skyler had expected. The twin walls of fire moved ponderously toward the convoy and the crouched Security men, the flows' leading edges angling toward each other along the gutter on the east side of the street. Skyler couldn't see the Security men's faces or hear their conversation, but from their body language and the way their gun barrels were dipping he guessed they were suddenly reconsidering what they'd probably thought were pretty decent defensive positions. "I suggest you move, gentlemen," O'Hara prompted, the words barely audible over the crackling of the flames. "It's not likely to stop for you."
For a long moment nothing happened. Skyler had picked this spot with its topography in mind, and as he watched the two flows met up along the east side of the street, filling the gutter with flame and cutting off any possibility of retreat that direction. As the fuel pooled and the wall of flame widened, it began to fill the rest of the street, moving slowly but inexorably across the pavement toward the trapped vehicles.
One way or another, the Security men would very soon cease to be a problem.
* * *
"Damn it," Ramirez snarled under his breath. "Damn it to hell."
"Shut up," Bailey snarled back, his full attention on the van's-eye view of the wall of fire creeping toward his men. What were they supposed to do now?
For one of them, at least, the response was clearly not even open to discussion. "Get them out of there, Bailey," Poirot said urgently. "Get them out."
"No," Daasaa ordered. "They rill not run. They rill hold their ground."
"They can't, Your Eminence," Poirot protested. "If they stay, they'll die."
"They rill not run," Daasaa repeated.
Poirot looked at Bailey, his eyes pleading. "We have to pull them out, Battle Architect," Bailey agreed, his throat tight. Both Ryqril had that homicidal look about them again. "If they hold their positions, they'll be burned to death."
"So rill the 'risoners," Daasaa countered. "There'ore, the 'lackcollars nust ha' a 'lan to sa'e they."
"I'm sure they do," Bailey agreed, watching the fire as it inched its leisurely way forward. "But the prisoners are still inside, where they're better protected. The blackcollars can afford to wait until—"
"Colonel!" the spotter controller cut in. He twisted a control— "Boulder spotters, drop down to assist Security forces," the mysterious woman's voice came from the speaker. "Athena spotters, maintain high cover."
Halaak snarled something unintelligible. "They rill take the 'risoners!"
"No, they won't," Bailey said darkly. "Major, order the other spotters to bring them to ground immediately. They're to escort them into Athena—"
"Not into Athena," Daasaa cut him off.
"No, of course not," Bailey said, feeling his face flush as he belatedly realized what he'd almost done. "They're to bring them to ground outside the fence."
"Maybe by the northern fence?" Ramirez suggested.
"Yes, by the northern fence," Bailey confirmed. With two sets of Security forces already converging on that spot, they might as well try to lock all their eggs into the same basket.
"Yes, sir," the controller said.
Bailey turned back to Daasaa. "Battle Architect?" he prompted, gesturing to the wall of fire. "They can't serve the Ryqril if they're dead."
Daasaa hesitated. Then, with a derisive snort, he gestured. "Ryqril rarriors rould ne'er run," he said disdainfully. "'Ut these are only hunans. They nay retreat."
"Thank you." Bailey gestured to the duty officer. "Give the order."
* * *
For a long minute Skyler had thought the Ryqril in charge was going to cold-bloodedly allow the Security men to be burned to death for nothing. Then, to his relief, he saw them lurch to their feet and fall back before the approaching flames, making for the single alley on the street's western side that still allowed for escape. Enemy fleeing down rabbit hole, he signaled O'Hara as the men standing in the van sunroofs abandoned their lasers and ducked out to join their retreating comrades. Stand ready for possible aerial move.
Acknowledged.
Spotters turning on bandits, Flynn put in. All ordered to ground north of fence.
Skyler puffed a sigh of relief. And with that, they could finally get the actual rescue underway. Hawking, Kanai: go, he ordered. Peering down at the street, he made one final adjustment to his mortar's aim and squeezed the trigger.
With a chuff of compressed air, the mortar fired, sending the adhesive-tipped grappling line snaking past Skyler's head to disappear over the edge of the building across the street. Shifting aim, he fired again, sending a second line arcing over the street at a slight angle to the first. His wrist pulley was already fastened to his left forearm; peripherally noting that Kanai's and Hawking's own lines were also now crisscrossing the street, he secured his pulley over both of his lines and rolled off the edge of the roof.
He could feel the heat rising from the fire below as he slid along the slack in the lines toward the low point in the middle. He worked the remote, playing out more of the two lines as he descended. Wincing at the heat, hoping his flexarm
or was up to the challenge, he dropped toward the first van in line.
And with a thunk of boots he came to a smooth landing on top of the vehicle, just in front of the gaping sunroof.
He dropped through the opening and found himself facing someone sitting in the middle of the backseat, a black bag over his head and his hands securely fastened together in front of him with a pair of mag-lock forearm shackles. "Who are you?" Skyler called over the roaring of the flames.
"Kevin Dorfman," the other said, his words muffled by the bag.
"The sky seems extra blue today," Skyler said.
There was a short pause, as if the kid couldn't believe he was being asked for a countersign at a time like this. "Probably means rain tomorrow," he said at last.
