The Judas Solution

by Timothy Zahn

  "Right," Skyler said, heading down the ridge toward the clearing. "The grating's been cut free—"

  "Cover!" O'Hara snapped.

  For an instant Flynn continued down the ridge, muscles frozen by surprise even as the blackcollars' superior reflexes sent them diving to all sides.

  But it was too late for any of them. Even as Flynn finally braked to a halt the small canisters falling from the sky slammed into the ground all around them, exploding into white clouds of cloying-sweet gas.

  He was asleep before he hit the ground.

  * * *

  It had taken some ingenuity and several trips with the drag carts, but Foxleigh and Jensen had finally managed to fuel and prep the Talus. "Next step is to figure out how to get it into one of the aircraft lifts," Foxleigh said as they coiled the last cables and hoses clear. "There are a pair of upper-level launch bays to the east and west. Which ones were you planning to use?"

  "We won't need the launch bays," Jensen told him. "Or the elevator, either."

  Foxleigh stared. "You mean ... straight out the main entrance? But isn't there a Ryqril base set up there? Adamson told me there was."

  "Oh, there's a base, all right," Jensen said. "A big one, too. That's the whole point."

  "What whole point?" Foxleigh retorted. "In case you haven't noticed, Ryqril bases always include large, nasty antiaircraft lasers. You won't get fifty meters before you get vaporized."

  "Ah, but this base runs right up against the side of the mountain," Jensen said. "Going out through the front door will actually put me inside the defenses."

  "Really," Foxleigh murmured. "Adamson never mentioned that part."

  "He probably never got close enough to see that part," Jensen said. "The Ryqril are touchy about visitors."

  "I see," Foxleigh said. Yes; it would do nicely. "Of course, they've got other weapons in there besides the antiaircraft lasers. Once you're in, you very likely won't be coming out again."

  "I wasn't intending to," Jensen said quietly. "This one's for Novak and all the rest who've died at Ryqril hands."

  He turned back to face the Talus ... and as he did so, Foxleigh slipped his hand inside his jacket and drew his gun. "Actually, there's going to be a small change—"

  He'd never seen a blackcollar move before. Had never dreamed that a human being could move that fast. An instant later he found his gun hand pointed toward the ceiling, his arm locked above his head between Jensen's two hands, the blackcollar facing him with their noses no more than ten centimeters apart.

  And he had no idea how he'd even gotten into that position.

  "I'm disappointed, Toby," Jensen said, his voice dark and cold as he gazed into Foxleigh's face. "Not surprised, really. But disappointed."

  "I wasn't going to hurt you," Foxleigh insisted.

  "No, of course not." Sliding his left hand along Foxleigh's right wrist, the blackcollar deftly plucked the gun from his hand and stepped back. "We wondered about this gun, Flynn and I," he said, turning the weapon over in his hand as he inspected it. "I was hoping you were just some war veteran who'd been hiding out all this time."

  "I am," Foxleigh said, rubbing his elbow where Jensen had overextended it. "My name's Lieutenant Samuel Foxleigh, TDE Air Defense."

  "Of course," Jensen said. "Let me guess: you flew Talus interceptors."

  "As a matter of fact, I did," Foxleigh said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

  "And you ended up out here how?"

  "I was shot down in the final battle," Foxleigh said, his gaze drifting to the fighter looming over them. "I hurt my leg when I bailed out, but I was able to make it to Shelter Valley. Doc Adamson patched me up; but as soon as it was clear that we'd lost and the Ryqril were landing in force to set up shop, he knew I couldn't stay there."

  "Why not?"

  "The town was too small," Foxleigh said. "Everyone knew everyone else, and there were two or three Adamson didn't trust to keep their mouths shut under pressure. So he took me up to the cabin and asked Toby to put me up for a while."

  "So there was an actual Toby?"

  "Adamson's uncle," Foxleigh said. "He'd moved up to the cabin about ten years earlier to get away from what he called the irritations of civilization."

  "Not much of an escape," Jensen pointed out. "He was, what, a whole two hundred meters out of town?"

  "But everyone knew to leave him alone," Foxleigh said. "Actually, the cabin's location was a compromise with the rest of his family, who were adamant about him not disappearing off somewhere into the wild and maybe dying in an accident without them even knowing about it."

  "And then you showed up," Jensen said. "He must have been thrilled."

  "Thrilled isn't the word for it," Foxleigh said ruefully, remembering the long and heated discussions. "But Adamson promised it wouldn't be for long, just until the Ryqril and their collaborators finished the census we knew they'd be taking of the mountain areas. Once that was over, I could move back down to Shelter Valley, and eventually to Denver."

  "So what went wrong?"

  "What do you think?" Foxleigh retorted. "The Ryqril decided to stick that damned sensor pylon at the edge of town. That meant Security could be popping in at any time to check on the thing. Worse, it meant everyone would be on file somewhere, which killed any chance for me to slip into town and pretend I'd always been there."

  "So you and Toby became permanent roommates?" Jensen suggested.

  Foxleigh swallowed. "Only for a while," he said quietly. "Three months later he caught pneumonia and died."

  "Leaving you his cabin and his name."

  "Everyone in town already knew about old Toby the hermit," Foxleigh said. "But no one outside the Adamson family had seen him recently enough to remember what he looked like. It seemed the perfect place to hide."

  "Temporarily, anyway," Jensen said. "Only you seem to have made it permanent."

  Foxleigh felt his stomach tighten. "I guess I just got used to it."

  Jensen shook his head. "Lie number two," he said.

  Foxleigh frowned. "What?"

  "That was lie number two," Jensen said. "Lie number one was in your story somewhere, though I'm not sure exactly where. But this was definitely number two. You want to try again?"

  Foxleigh sighed. "All right," he said. "The fact is that I wanted to stay near the mountain. I knew it was locked down, but I thought someday I might be able to find a way back in."

  "To do what?"

  "Basically, to do exactly what you're planning," Foxleigh said. "I wanted to take a fighter and do as much damage as I could to the Ryqril before they caught up with me." He squared his shoulders. "And I'll guarantee I'm a better pilot than you are."

  "No doubt," Jensen agreed. "So what exactly do you want?"

  "What I just said," Foxleigh told him. "Let me take the Talus out into the Ryqril base."

  "Sounds reasonable," Jensen said. "The answer's no."

  He said it so calmly that for a second the word didn't register. When it finally did, it hit Foxleigh like a slap in the face. "What do you mean, no?" he demanded.

  "I mean that before you pulled this I might have been interested," Jensen said, hefting the gun. "Now, your currency's all been burned."

  "I wasn't going to shoot you," Foxleigh insisted again, his stomach churning. This was his last, his very last chance. "I just wanted to make sure you'd listen."

  "And if I didn't, you had the final argument?" Jensen shook his head. "Sorry, Toby. Or Foxleigh, or whatever your real name is."

  "It's Foxleigh."

  "Whatever." Jensen gestured back toward the elevator. "Come on. You're going home."

  Silently, they made their way back down to the Level Nine storage room where they'd first entered Aegis Mountain. Sitting Foxleigh down on one of the crates, Jensen poked around for a few minutes and came up with a short length of thin cord. "I'm going to tie your hands together," he told Foxleigh as he set to work. "It'll make some parts of the trip a little tricky, I'm afraid, but a former
fighter pilot should be able to make do."

  "What about the rope ladder?" Foxleigh asked. "I can't climb it this way."

  "The housing on the sonic Torch set up at the base of the shaft has a couple of sharp edges on it," Jensen told him. "I damn near sliced my hand open on one of them on our way out last time. A little work and you should be able to cut yourself free."

  "And meanwhile you'll be committing suicide?"

  "I'll be avenging fallen comrades," Jensen corrected. "And, with luck, I'll be helping bring all this to an end. Okay; on your feet."

  "Wait a second," Foxleigh said as Jensen took his arm helped him up. "What do you mean, bring it to an end? Bring what to an end?"

  "The Ryqril domination, of course," Jensen said. "What else is there?"

  "No—hold it," Foxleigh protested as Jensen started pulling him toward the tunnel. "How is shooting up one Ryqril base going to do that?"

  "Just part of the larger whole," Jensen said. "I'd love to chat about it, but I've got work to do." Gently but firmly he pushed Foxleigh through the opening. "Get going."

  "Jensen, I want to be a part of what you're doing," Foxleigh said, trying one final time. "I need to be a part of it."

  "And don't try to come back," Jensen added, shoving Foxleigh's gun into his own belt. "If you do, I'll kill you." Turning, he strode back across the room.

  Foxleigh watched him go, his heart feeling like a chunk of lead. It had been his absolute last chance.

  And he'd blown it.

  Jensen disappeared out the door. Foxleigh stood there a little longer, wondering if he should follow the other and try again. All the blackcollar could do would be to follow through on his warning and kill him. And one way or another, Foxleigh was already dead.

  With a sigh, he turned his back on the base. Yes, he was dead, but even a dead man had obligations. At the very least, Adamson deserved to hear the whole story, and to finally know what kind of person he'd spent all these years protecting.

  When he did, maybe the old medic would kill him himself.

  Lowering his head, balancing himself with his tied hands, he headed for home.

  * * *

  Skyler drifted back to consciousness with a sense that he was sitting up, his chin lolling against his chest, his arms pinioned together in front of him. Carefully, expecting to find himself in a Security interrogation cell, he opened his eyes.

  He wasn't inside a cell, or even indoors. He was seated on the ground not five meters from where they'd been attacked, his back braced against the trunk of a tree at the edge of the small clearing. His feet were free, but his forearms were pinned securely together by a pair of heavy-duty mag-lock shackles, the sort that couldn't be removed without special equipment. His nunchaku had been taken, as had his slingshot and the knives and shuriken from his various pouches and sheaths.

  He turned his head a couple of degrees to his left. Flynn was sitting against the next tree over, his head still bowed against his chest but his eyes half open as he worked his way awake. Beyond him at successive trees were O'Hara and Hawking, similarly trussed up, similarly coming awake.

  "Yae are arake," a Ryqril voice said.

  There didn't seem much point in pretending he wasn't. Opening his eyes all the way, Skyler lifted his head.

  A half dozen Security men were standing across the small clearing, some of them watching the four prisoners, the others peering into the now open air vent grating. Standing a few feet to the side were General Poirot, Colonel Bailey, and an unfamiliar man wearing lieutenant's insignia. Thirty meters above the clearing a Corsair hovered like a vulture waiting for its prey to die.

  And standing directly in front of Skyler, three meters away, were a pair of armed Ryqril.

  "Good day to you, khassq warrior," Skyler greeted the nearer of the two aliens, forcing his voice to remain calm as he eyed the other's distinctive baldric. He'd faced a few khassq during the war, and even with all his weapons and faculties to call on those contests had been tricky. Here, weaponless and with his hands pinioned, he wouldn't have wanted to face even a regular Ryqril warrior. "I'm Commando Rafe Skyler."

  "Khassq rarrior Halaak," the other rumbled, and Skyler found himself breathing a little easier. A khassq wouldn't bother giving his name if was planning a quick and simple kill. Exchanging names implied he intended to at least wait a while before dealing with the prisoners, and any extra time was to the blackcollars' advantage.

  He shifted his attention to the second Ryq. This one wore the less elaborate but equally distinctive baldric of a battle architect, the Ryqril equivalent of a senior tactical officer. "And good day to you as well, Battle Architect," he added.

  "And tae yae, Connando Skyler," the other said, his grating voice almost courteous. "I an 'Attle Architect Daasaa. Yae ha' 'ought rell and rith courage."

  "Thank you," Skyler said, not about to be out-courteoused by a mere Ryq. "General Poirot told me the Ryqril military had taken an interest in this operation. I had no idea just how serious that interest was, though." He looked past the Ryqril at Poirot. "You might have warned me, General."

  "And I might have betrayed my people and position," Poirot countered, his voice stiff. "Unfortunately for you, I did neither."

  "So I see," Skyler agreed, taking a moment to study Colonel Bailey and the unidentified lieutenant. Both of them were showing the same tension he could see in Poirot's face. "Your force seems rather heavy with senior officers, General. Is this some sort of refresher field trip?"

  "We just wanted to be in on the victory," Bailey said before Poirot could answer.

  "Or more likely, this just happens to be where your Ryqril masters told you to stand," O'Hara put in.

  Poirot's face went rigid. "Listen, blackcollar—"

  "Enou'," Daasaa cut him off tartly. "Yae rill now tell us, Connando, what tra's there are inside Aegis Nountain."

  "I don't know anything about any traps," Skyler said. "But if you're worried, I'd be more than happy to go in and check."

  "Yae rill not no'e 'ron that s'ot," Halaak growled.

  Daasaa murmured something to him in Ryqrili. Probably explaining the concept of sarcasm, Skyler guessed. "There is no need 'or that," the battle architect said. "Yaer 'ellow hunans rill disco'er any such dangers."

  There was a small flurry of commotion by the air vent, and a pair of techs in slightly dirty uniforms emerged through the opening into the late afternoon sunlight. Poirot and Bailey stepped over to them, and for a minute they talked together in low tones.

  "Skyler?" Flynn murmured from Skyler's side.

  "Yes, I'm here," Skyler said sourly, watching the two Ryqril. Halaak still had his eye on the prisoners, but Daasaa had half turned to face the conversation going on by the grating.

  "That trick throw of Mordecai's," Flynn said. "The spinning throw? He invented it to be used by a man in forearm shackles."

  "Really," Skyler said thoughtfully. Now that he thought about that, he could see that Flynn was right. Leave it to Mordecai. "You have anything left to throw?"

  "No," Flynn said. "But you do."

  Skyler's eyes dropped to the silver dragonhead ring on his right hand. "Understood," he murmured. "Let me pick the timing."

  Daasaa turned back. "So," he said. "Again General 'Oirot ras correct. The 'assage'ay is not large enou' 'or Ryqril tae 'ass. The hunans rill go in alone."

  Skyler suppressed a grimace. Into Aegis Mountain, where Jensen almost certainly had his own plan well underway. Unknowingly, probably uncaringly, the Ryqril were sending those men to their deaths. "I suppose they will," he murmured.

  For a moment Daasaa gazed at him, as if trying to read the alien human face. Then, with a snort, he turned away, pushing aside one of the long branches that hung just low enough for its leaves to brush the top of his head. "General 'Oirot, yae rill send yaer nen into the nountain," he ordered. "They rill 'ind the control 'or the nain door and o'en it."

  "As you command, Your Eminence," Poirot said. "I'd like permission to accompany them
."

  "Denied," Daasaa said. "Yae and the other o'icers rill stay here."

  Poirot's lips compressed briefly. "As you command, Your Eminence," he said again.

  Halaak took a step closer to the prisoners. "Yae rill renain here, too," he added, his eyes glittering, his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword. "Unless yae rish tae try tae escape."

  So that was why they'd left the blackcollars' legs unshackled. "Looking to add a few blackcollars to your trophy wall?" he asked.

  "One o' yae killed a Ryqril rarrior outside the Aegis Nountain 'ase," Halaak said, his voice dark. "I rould relcone the chance tae a'enge his death."