Though Hell Should Bar the Way - eARC

by David Drake

  I said, “I don’t know much information you’ve gotten”—I gestured generally around the cell—“but Cinnabar is openly at war with Karst now. It doesn’t seem to me that there’s any further reason for you to be locked up.”

  “Would Lady Mundy agree?” Maeve said, tossing her head dismissively.

  “Dunno,” I said. I shrugged. “For the time being, I’m the highest-ranking member of the Sunray’s company on Saguntum. I’m pretty sure that you’ve got the resources to get off planet and probably back to Cinnabar before Lady Mundy returns. If not, I can find you some help.”

  “I’d be better off in this cell than on Cinnabar,” Maeve said. She stood up suddenly and walked to the cell door, putting her back to me. “I’m a real embarrassment to my superiors.”

  “If you’re worried about what I’ll say at a hearing,” I said, “don’t be. And I really doubt that anything Lady Mundy knows is going to make it back to the Foreign Ministry. There obviously isn’t a lot of information passing between the two groups.”

  Maeve turned with a furious expression. “It’s not that!” she said. “The people who tasked me know exactly what they ordered me to do—and how wrongheaded they appear to have been. It’s not what I did that they want to hide, it’s what they did and they’re afraid I could prove!”

  “Ah,” I said. I’d never regretted leaving the Foreign Ministry, but I was getting plenty more evidence to support my decision. “Well, if it’s any consolation, what you did resulted in exactly the desired result. Saguntum has accepted the protection of Cinnabar, and Karst has attacked us.”

  Maeve smiled faintly. She said, “I doubt that will make Undersecretary Dowland any more willing to have his part in the matter become public.”

  Her face suddenly shifted, looking younger and softer. “Are you serious about letting me go, Roy?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “What will happen to you when Lady Mundy comes back?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Look, you were following orders. The reasoning behind the orders was solid, there were just things your superiors didn’t know. You were doing exactly what I’d have done, and I won’t leave you locked up for that. Since for the moment it’s my decision.”

  I wondered if I’d be saying that if Maeve Grimaud looked like a pig instead of being the sexiest woman I’d ever met. I’m not saying she was prettier than Monica, and I’m certainly not saying that I could imagine wanting to spend more than maybe a half hour at a time with Maeve.

  What I’d just said was true, regardless. I could look Lady Mundy in the eye and say it again; as I’d probably have to do.

  “If you can get me out and get me my reticule back,” Maeve said, “I won’t need any other help. Even without the reticule.”

  “Let’s see,” I said. I went to the door and called, “Sergeant Bernotti? I’m ready to leave, and I’d like to release Mistress Grimaud now.”

  The sergeant came around the corner. He was smiling, but the patrol sling meant that his weapon was pointing at us as he approached.

  “Is there something I need to sign?” I asked.

  “I’ll have you read the request into my console,” he said as he unlocked the cell and gestured us out.

  “And Mistress Grimaud wants her purse out of storage,” I added as we preceded the sergeant down the hall.

  “If it’s there, she can have it,” he said.

  The purse was about big enough to hold a pair of eyeglasses. Maeve snatched it up. She didn’t open it in front of me. “Am I free to go?” she asked, looking from me to the sergeant.

  “Yes,” I said. Sergeant Bernotti nodded.

  He looked at me and said, “You can accept delivery of the purse too, sir.”

  Maeve nodded. “Thank you both,” she said. She pressed the call button of the elevator.

  I went through the formalities at the console. The elevator arrived while I did that; it rose again with Maeve aboard.

  Sergeant Bernotti looked at me and said, “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.” Then he grinned and added, “I guess I’d do the same if I was your age. Hell, I guess I would now.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Things settled into a pattern over the next few days. Our car only held four comfortably, and I came to trust my crew. Here in Jacquerie, I mean. In space, I’d trust them implicitly under any circumstances. I decided quickly that they weren’t going to cause a real incident on the ground either, but that wasn’t the same thing.

  For small facilities that didn’t require any special expertise, I took only one spacer with me when I made the inspection. Six days after the flotilla had left, Wedell and I were at the tracking and guidance station in the Genevieve Mountains.

  Our arrival had doubled the number of people present. Boelke, one of the techs based there, was awake when we drove up. Our voices woke the other, Sacrisson, though he was pretty clearly hung over.

  And why not? The station was a belt-and-suspenders backup for Jacquerie Control. The telemetry antennas here, on a high ridge a hundred miles north of the capital, had a broader sweep of the heavens than those in the harbor, but the harbor array was perfectly adequate for the amount of traffic that Saguntum got. There was a dedicated line from here to the harbor, and there was a microwave antenna which could be switched to any target at line of sight.

  This was precisely the sort of facility I’d expected when I decided that most of the crew could have the day off. I was simply checking off boxes for my report to Captain Leary.

  I plugged my portable—luggable—terminal into a socket on the local console, sending my report to the Sunray to be stored. Sacrisson suddenly said, “Say, that’s funny.”

  I paused as I started to insert my personal key into the terminal. I said, “What is?”

  “Well, there’s three ships orbiting,” Sacrisson said. Boelke came and joined him. “They’re not responding to queries from Control, and their transponders are turned off—but they are communicating with a ground station that isn’t part of our network.”

  I finished connecting my own terminal. The key gave me unlimited access to all government sites, a necessity for my liaison job. I called, “Wedell? Be ready to move. This doesn’t look good.”

  “Bloody hell!” Boelke said. “One of them’s dropping out of orbit, but they don’t have approval to land.”

  I linked to the primary array at Jacquerie Harbor and tried a trick that Cory had taught me after explaining that he’d learned it from Lady Mundy. The vessel landing had switched off its identification transponder, but it was a large ship and carried a pinnace with interstellar capacity as well as a pair of lifeboats limited to normal space.

  The attached vessels had their own transponders. When queried, the pinnace told me that it was aboard the Kurfurstendamm, which a Landing Control database told me was a twelve-thousand-tonne transport homeported on the Alliance world of Stryker.

  Aloud, I said, “I believe Jacquerie is about to be attacked. And I’m very much afraid—”

  Still using the Jacquerie transceiver, I checked one of the ships still in orbit. It didn’t have a lesser ship on board, but it was carrying seventy-one missiles which duly reported that they were embarked on the Erich Koellner, a modern, powerful Alliance destroyer.

  I sent a note to everybody in my electronic circle: Alliance attacking Jacquerie. Estimate 2000 troops. That was based on the load capacity of the Kurfurstendamm. Escort two destroyers.

  I shut down my terminal and rose. “Wedell?” I said to my companion. “You and I are heading for the training facility at Gironde, where we were a few days ago.”

  To the technicians, I continued, “I think you guys will be fine here, or as well off as anywhere, but we spacers need to drop out of sight in Gironde. Good luck, and I hope you’ll wish us the same.”

  “But what’s happening?” Boelke said to our backs. I ignored him.

  I turned the car around in a plume of dust. The access road was paved, but the parking
area beside the station was not.

  “Sir?” Wedell said when we were moving. “Why is it we’re going to Gironde?”

  “We’re not,” I said. “But I hope to keep the other side in the dark for a while about where we are going.”

  I thought about it and decided she had a right to know. As we got on the pavement, I said, “It appears that Saguntum is at war with the Alliance. And I’m very much afraid that we are at war with the Alliance also.”

  Despite everything that Six and Lady Mundy had assured me. Well, as I’d said before—that was above my pay grade.

  * * *

  Wedell and I didn’t really talk until I passed the intersection with the road to Bevedere—the one we’d have taken if we’d really been going to Gironde. Then she said, “Sir? If that ship landing is attacking Jacquerie, why didn’t the missiles engage it?”

  “They tried,” I said. My quick scan of my terminal had given me enough data to figure out the Alliance attack plan. “The batteries didn’t take the commands from Jacquerie Control. Either the battery crews have been bribed, or somebody’s locked out the centralized control.”

  I’d done just that on Salaam. It hadn’t been difficult, but the batteries in Jacquerie were protected beyond my ability to get in—I’d tried, just for the hell of it. Even with the access key on my terminal, I couldn’t enter the missile director. I was sure it could be done, probably by somebody like Cory. Certainly by Lady Mundy.

  But that meant that we weren’t just facing Alliance troops. The security services—probably including the 5th Bureau, reporting to Guarantor Porra himself—were involved also.

  “Look, Wedell,” I said. “I know Captain Leary put me in charge, but he wasn’t expecting things to blow up the way they have. I’ve got a pretty screwy idea that’s likely to get us killed even if it works. Are you sure you want to stick with me?”

  Wedell turned toward me. I kept my eyes on the road, but I could see her from the corners of them.

  “Six put you in charge,” she said. “What part of that do you think I don’t understand? And if you’re afraid I’m going to run and hide if the shooting starts, don’t be; I was at Cacique.”

  “I don’t think that,” I said truthfully. “But I just thought…” I swallowed before I could think of the right word. “I thought I ought to ask.”

  “Well, you were bloody wrong,” Wedell said, though she sounded good-humored. “That’s not how the RCN works. Sir. Now, what are we going to do?”

  “There’s a military prison on the north side of Jacquerie,” I said. “It’s just off the road we’re on now, and I’m hoping taking it over isn’t high on the invaders’ to-do list.”

  If Wedell had backed out, I’d have had an excuse to back out myself. Except that I wouldn’t have.

  I laughed out loud. “The people from the Karst Residency are held there,” I said. “I’m hoping their luggage is too, because that’ll make the next part a lot simpler. We’ll shoot our way into the Military Harbor if we have to, but I’ve got something else in mind.”

  * * *

  If I hadn’t had the exact distance to the prison driveway—turn right off the North Road onto Kustis Road, 312 meters—I’d have missed it. A band of bushy local trees screened the double fences completely, and from the road the guard towers weren’t visible over the vegetation. The place was obvious after we curved down the drive, but not before.

  Two guards were at the gatehouse. Instead of coming out to ask my business, one of them called, “Who are you?” His partner thrust a carbine through the gatehouse window.

  “I’m Colonel Foliot’s aide!” I shouted. “And if your buddy doesn’t point his gun somewhere else, he’s going to regret it!”

  The outer gate opened so that I could drive in. The fellow who’d spoken before leaned out and said, “What the hell’s going on, sir?” His partner was looking over his shoulder; the carbine had vanished.

  “Karst has invaded,” I said, displaying the fancy document holder that Colonel Foliot had made up for me. “I’m here to help stop them.”

  Explaining that it was really the Alliance wouldn’t help me. For that matter, Karst probably was involved in this.

  “What are we supposed to do?” the other guard asked nervously.

  “Your jobs, of course!” I said. “And start with letting us through to see your CO.”

  The inner gate slid aside. “Chantal’s already left,” the first guard said. “I think Sergeant Busoni’s in charge.”

  “Then I’ll see Sergeant Busoni!” I said as I drove through.

  The administration building was brick and of one story. Running deeper from the back were a pair of two-story blocks of pinkish structural plastic with barred windows. They were separately fenced and wired. I didn’t think the facility would hold more than a hundred or so prisoners in single-occupancy cells, but my business wasn’t with the occupants anyway.

  The only vehicle in front of the building was a six-wheeled bus painted light tan with the stencilled legend Army of Saguntum. Though there were half a dozen other spaces, I deliberately parked in the one marked Commandant and got out.

  “Do I come with you?” Wedell asked.

  “Yes,” I said, simply to make a decision. I didn’t care where she was, but I didn’t want to discuss it.

  A heavy man—hell, he was fat—had risen behind the counter as we walked to the glass doors. I held out my identification in my left hand and said, “Sergeant, Colonel Foliot has sent me to get some items from the personalty of the Karst prisoners. Take us to the storage area, please.”

  “I can’t do that,” the sergeant said. I suppose he was the Busoni the guard at the gate had mentioned. He didn’t move.

  “Then take us to somebody who can,” I said. I was letting my voice be sharp but I didn’t raise it.

  “The only guy who can do that is Commandant Chantal,” the sergeant said. His eyes were glazed and he was sweating. “He left—”

  “Look, you dickhead!” Wedell shouted, leaning across the counter. “You may want to be shot for a bloody traitor after Karst gets sorted, but we don’t! We’re going get what the colonel sent us for, with you or without! Which is it going to be?”

  “I don’t have a key t’ the padlock!” the sergeant said. I was afraid he was going to start crying.

  “Well, you’ve got a tool chest, don’t you?” I said. “Or your maintenance people do. Take us there now. We’re okay for the moment, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

  The sergeant led us down the hall to his right to a door marked Maintenance. It was locked, but I kicked it open while Busoni fished for a key. I’d hoped for bolt cutters but settled for a large screwdriver to use as a pry bar. I noticed as we followed the sergeant through the door at the end of the hall that Wedell had brought a short-hafted cross-peen hammer.

  A heavy-metal shipping container stood against the side of the building, overlooked by one of the confinement blocks. A solid-looking padlock closed the outer double doors. I was looking for the best way to use my screwdriver when Wedell said, “Let me take a shot at it, sir.”

  “All right,” I said and stepped out of the way. I didn’t see how she could knock the lock off, but she seemed confident.

  Wedell measured the distance with her eyes, then brought the back of the hammer around in a sudden blow. The narrow peen hit the top of the lock barrel squarely, without touching either the hasp or the rings which it locked. There was a loud crash from the container itself. The lock sprang open.

  Wedell grinned as I pulled open the outer doors and then the single inner panel. She said, “A rigger gets used to quick and dirty ways of doing things, sir.”

  Thank heaven I didn’t tell her to stay in the car, I thought.

  In the steel container were a score of fiberboard boxes, a meter long and about half that wide and deep. They were numbered in red, but there were no names on the outside.

  “Are all of these from the Karst prisoners?” I asked Busoni.r />
  “Yeah,” he said. “Normally prisoners don’t have anything outside the cells, but these’re prisoners of war. They hauled the container in and filled it with the boxes they took from where they were captured.”

  “Then let’s start opening,” I said, hauling a box onto the ground and thrusting my screwdriver between the top and the side before twisting. Staples gave way and allowed me to pry the top up.

  Wedell had a sturdy folding knife and got to work beside me. The sergeant watched us, bemused.

  On my third box I found what I was looking for: the contents of Director McKinnon’s closets. As I expected, there was a full military dress uniform in bright blue fabric, complete with saucer hat. If I remembered what I’d heard about Karst insignia, the silver triangles marked him as a full colonel. I’d have to wear my own footgear—soft black boots, suitable for wear within a vacuum suit—but they would pass.

  “Sergeant,” I said as I straightened. “We’ve got what we came for. If you put the clothes back into the container and close it, you shouldn’t have any trouble with the troops who arrive—unless you mention our visit. If you tell them about us, you’ll have a lot of questions to answer—and they won’t be best pleased that you don’t have answers for them.”

  Wedell and I headed back to the car. Behind us, Busoni meeped, “Hey, it’s not right you leaving this mess for me!”

  “You drive,” I said to Wedell. “I’ll change in the back seat.”

  “How about my clothes?” she asked. She was wearing RCN utilities, mottled gray and loose.

  “You’ll pass for my driver,” I said as we got into the vehicle. “You don’t look Saguntine. Remember, we’re dealing with Alliance Army, not Fleet personnel.”

  We headed off toward the harbor facilities. McKinnon and I were similar height, but he was heavier from thirty years of office work.

  I wondered if I’d live another thirty years.

  * * *

  Wedell wasn’t a good driver, but there were fewer people than usual on the streets of Jacquerie and very, very few cars. I wondered if the invaders had ordered people to stay inside or if folks had just decided it was good sense to do so.