Blackcollar: The Judas Solution

by Timothy Zahn

  He half expected them to go all the way and do a strip search. Fortunately for Bailey, even the colonel apparently didn't have quite enough nerve to try that one.

  Bailey was waiting for him in the middle of the situation room, a young lieutenant Poirot didn't recognize at his side. "Welcome back, General," Bailey said, nodding as Poirot strode up to them. His words were polite enough, but there was an odd sort of distance to his tone and expression. "I'm pleased to find you alive and well."

  "I'm rather pleased about that myself," Poirot growled. "You'd better have a damn good reason for what you just put me through." He shifted his glare to the lieutenant. "Who are you?"

  "Lieutenant Ramirez, Boulder Security office," the other identified himself. "I've been assisting Colonel Bailey with his efforts to find you."

  "Well, I'm found," Poirot said. "Thank you for your assistance. Now go home."

  "I'd like the lieutenant to stay a little longer, if you don't mind," Bailey put in. "There are a few matters we all need to discuss." He gestured to the row of office and conference room doors at the rear of the situation room. "If you'll come this way, please?"

  "No, we're going to do this right here, Colonel," Poirot ground out, not moving a millimeter. There were a dozen other Security men working the various status and command boards, and it wouldn't do them any harm to hear what happened to a subordinate who forgot how to properly treat a superior officer.

  "Let's start with why I was put through a weapons scan before even being offered medical treatment."

  "Do you need medical treatment, sir?"

  "Answer the question, Colonel."

  Bailey's lip twitched. "You've been in enemy hands for nearly a day, sir," he said reluctantly. "We had to make sure you weren't bringing in anything dangerous."

  "And you don't think I'd have noticed if something like that had been planted on me?"

  Bailey glanced at the other men at the boards. "Sir, I really think we'd be more comfortable in the conference room—"

  "Answer the question, damn it."

  Bailey seemed to brace himself. "If you insist, sir. No, not necessarily."

  "Not necessarily?" Poirot echoed, hardly believing his ears. "You think they could have planted a bomb or loaded my pockets with cyanide ampoules without—?"

  "Have you ever heard of Whiplash, General?" Ramirez asked.

  Poirot glared at him. How dare he interrupt—?

  And then, abruptly, it hit him ... and in that single heartbeat his simmering anger vanished into a chill like an arctic breeze. "What exactly are you implying, Colonel?" he asked between stiff lips.

  "I think you know, sir," Bailey said. "You've been in blackcollar hands, and the blackcollars apparently have a drug that removes loyalty-conditioning. What would you be thinking in my place?"

  For a long moment Poirot couldn't find his voice. This couldn't be happening. "All right," he said at last, forcing a calmness he most certainly didn't feel. "Yes, they injected me with the stuff. And yes, they think I'm on their side now. But I'm not."

  Bailey's expression didn't even twitch. "No?"

  "Of course not," Poirot insisted. "If we move fast, we have a chance to nail them once and for all."

  "I suppose they sat down and discussed their plans with you, too?" Bailey suggested.

  Poirot curled his hand into a frustrated fist. "They think I'm on their side," he repeated. "They think that once someone's loyalty-conditioning is gone he's automatically filled with revolutionary fervor."

  "And that's not true?" Ramirez asked.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Poirot snapped. "These people have no idea how much destruction the Ryqril could rain on Denver if they got it into their heads to do so. But I do. The only reason they don't—the only reason—is that they're secure in the knowledge that we have the district under control. Do you think I'd be stupid enough to deliberately wreck that status quo?"

  For a minute Bailey gazed at him in silence. Poirot stared back, feeling sweat trickling down his back.

  "All right," the colonel said at last. The words were conciliatory, but Poirot could tell from his tone that he still wasn't convinced. "Let's go sit down and you can tell us all about it."

  Poirot looked around the room. All the other Security men were busy at their posts, none of them giving any indication that they might have overheard the conversation.

  But he knew they had. All of them. "Of course," he said. "Lead the way."

  Silently, they all headed back to the conference room. Bailey opened the door and gestured, and Poirot stepped inside.

  And came to an abrupt halt. Seated at the far end of the table were a pair of Ryqril. "Please sit down, sir," Bailey said, squeezing through the doorway past Poirot and pointing to the chair at the near end.

  Silently, Poirot started forward again and sat down in the indicated chair, his brain mechanically registering the patterns on the aliens' baldrics. One of them was a battle architect, a senior tactical officer and the highest noncommand rank in the Ryqril military.

  The other was a khassq-class warrior.

  "General Poirot, let me introduce Battle Architect Daasaa and Khassq Warrior Halaak," Bailey said as he and Ramirez sat down on either side of Poirot. "They'll be supervising us during this crisis."

  Poirot felt his stomach tighten. So it was a crisis now? "With all due and proper deference," he said, "I don't see it being quite that serious yet. As I told Colonel Bailey, my loyalty remains firmly with the government and the Ryqril."

  "Yet the re'els think otherrise?" Daasaa asked.

  "Yes, they do," Poirot said. "And in that error lies the key to their defeat, because I know what they intend to do."

  Daasaa's dark eyes bored into Poirot's face. "Tell us."

  Poirot took a careful breath. This was it. Somehow, he had to convince them that he was still on their side. "First of all, they want to rescue the members of Phoenix that Colonel Bailey arrested yesterday."

  He looked at Bailey. "I take it they're undergoing interrogation?"

  "That's how we found out about Whiplash," Bailey said.

  "Ah," Poirot said, feeling a flush of embarrassment. Of course that was how they would have learned about it. "At any rate, they want me to order the prisoners transferred someplace else—Silcox suggested the Colorado Springs interrogation center—so they can ambush the convoy along the way."

  "They dae not intend tae in'ade Athena to rescae they?" Daasaa asked.

  "They invaded Athena once before," Poirot reminded him, wincing at the memory. "I don't think they'd want to try that again."

  "I disagree," Daasaa countered. "They ha' done that runce. They there'ore know they can dae it again."

  "I understand, Your Eminence," Poirot said. "But I don't get the sense that that's how blackcollars do things."

  "It is 'asic tactics," Daasaa insisted. "A rarrior uses the skills he has."

  "In general, that's certainly true," Poirot agreed carefully. "But if the warrior's opponent has already seen a particular tactic in action, it might make sense to switch to something—"

  "The re'els are o' no use tae they," Halaak cut him off firmly. "They rish yae tae send out a con'oy tae draw yaer nen aray fron Athena."

  Poirot looked at Bailey in silent appeal. But the colonel's face was expressionless. "All right, perhaps they are planning an attack on Athena," he said, conceding defeat. "There's no reason we can't prepare for both possibilities."

  "Tae in'ade Athena, they rill need an aircra't," Daasaa went on. "Re nust guard against that."

  Poirot squeezed the arm of his chair tightly. Was Ryqril thinking really so limited that they could only look back at what had already been done? Was that why they needed to loyalty-condition their conquered peoples, so those peoples could be trusted to do their thinking for them? "This time they won't have access to any aircraft, Your Eminence," he promised. "We won't be sending out any ambulances they can commandeer, or patrol boats, or—"

  "The spotters," Ramirez said sudden
ly.

  All eyes turned to him. "What?" Poirot asked.

  "We have spotters flying all over the mountains west of Boulder," Ramirez said, a note of urgency in his voice. "We think one to three more blackcollars might have come in with Skyler's team."

  "Skyler said they'd only lost one on the way in," Poirot said. "You haven't found him yet?"

  "There's a lot of forest out there," Bailey reminded him. "Not to mention a lot of animals to mess up IR

  readings. You saying Skyler just volunteered this information?"

  "Yes," Poirot murmured, gripping the chair arm a little tighter as a sudden uncertainty dug at him. Now that he thought about it Skyler had been pretty loose with that comment. Could the blackcollar have been deliberately feeding him misinformation, expecting that he wouldn't betray his job and his people?

  "He said the man was probably waiting for the searchers to go away."

  "How convenient," Ramirez murmured. "So while we waste time and manpower—"

  "It is not rasted," Halaak cut him off sharply. "There is another 'lackcollar." His dark eyes seemed to go even darker. "He has killed a Ryq rarrior."

  Poirot felt his breath freeze in his throat. "Where?"

  "In the hills a'ove our Aegis 'ase," Daasaa said, his eyes going back and forth between the three humans, clearly looking for some kind of reaction. "He ras killed rith a star rea'on in his throat."

  Poirot winced. A human killing a Ryq was about as bad as it got. Dimly, he wondered if Skyler had any idea of the crate of snakes his wayward commando had just opened up. "He must have gotten lost," he said. "Probably saw the warrior and panicked."

  "Or else was deliberately heading for the base," Ramirez murmured thoughtfully.

  "Re rill ca'ture he," Halaak said, and Poirot shivered at the menace beneath the words. "Yae rill continue yaer search."

  "Yes, Your Eminence," Bailey said, his voice suddenly hesitant. "Are we sure there was just one of them?"

  "Re 'ound his glider," Daasaa said. "It had a second glider 'astened 'eneath it."

  "One man pretending to be two," Poirot said, nodding. "Splits up the search parties."

  "Or intensifies the search," Bailey said. "More to the point, that still leaves one slot unaccounted for in this six-man pod of theirs. What we may have is one blackcollar stirring up trouble while his partner waits quietly for one of the search teams to land an aircar in a convenient location."

  "And then uses the s'otter tae in'ade Athena," Daasaa concluded, a note of vindication in his voice. "It is as I said."

  "Or they might even be planning to attack the Aegis Mountain base," Ramirez said. "Maybe the first blackcollar wasn't just stirring up trouble, but was scouting it out."

  Halaak made a rumbling sound in his chest. "That cannot 'e allored," he ground out. "The 'ase nust 'e

  'rotected."

  Daasaa motioned to him, and for a minute the two Ryqril held their heads close together as they conversed quietly in Ryqrili. Then, Daasaa straightened up again. "Yae rill rithdraw the s'otters at runce," he ordered. "The ground search rill continue."

  A muscle in Bailey's cheek tightened momentarily. "As you command, Your Eminence," he said. "But I must warn you that without the spotters—"

  "Dae yae kestion ne?"

  The same cheek muscle twitched again. "No, of course not, Your Eminence," he said hastily. "The spotters will be withdrawn immediately." He looked at Ramirez. "See to it, Lieutenant."

  "Yes, sir," Ramirez said, looking quietly relieved to be getting out of this particular frying pan. Standing up, he hurried from the room.

  "General 'Oirot?" Halaak asked.

  Poirot started. "Yes, Your Eminence?"

  "A'ter the 'risoners rere taken, rhat ras their 'lan?"

  "Basically, just to cause as much trouble as they could," Poirot said. "Skyler didn't go into details, but I got the feeling they planned to launch attacks on any Security men they could find outside Athena. He also mentioned a cache of weapons Phoenix had hidden somewhere."

  "Rhat sort o' rea'ons?" Halaak asked.

  "I don't know," Poirot said. "Again, he didn't give any details."

  "None of the prisoners has said anything about a weapons cache," Bailey put in.

  "Yae rill ask they," Daasaa ordered.

  "As you command, Your Eminence," Bailey said. "I'll speak with the interrogators as soon as we're finished here."

  "Re are 'inished," Daasaa said. "Go."

  Poirot braced himself. "Your Eminence?" he said carefully. "May I ask what you plan to do with the prisoners? If we don't transfer them to Colorado Springs, or at least make some preparations that direction, Skyler will suspect I'm still loyal."

  "And?" Daasaa asked.

  "And if he suspects that, I won't be able to get any further information from him."

  "Re rill not gi' u' our 'risoners," Halaak insisted.

  "I wasn't suggesting we let the blackcollars actually take them," Poirot assured him. "I'm sure we can keep any rescue attempt from succeeding."

  "The general does have a point," Bailey said. "It might prove useful to keep him in their good graces as long as possible. Besides, if we can delay the transfer another day or so, we'll have learned pretty much everything they can tell us anyway. It might be worth the risk to use them bait."

  Again, the two Ryqril huddled into a private conversation. "'Ery rell," Daasaa said. "Yae rill nake 'lans tae trans'er the re'els. They rill lea' Athena the night akhter taenorror."

  "As you command, Your Eminence," Poirot said. Finally; they were listening to reason. "I'll have the orders cut—"

  "Not yae," Halaak said. "Colonel 'Ailey rill connand."

  Even though he'd been half expecting it, it was still a shock. "As you command, Your Eminence," Poirot said again, his throat tight.

  Daasaa inclined his head fractionally. "Go."

  Neither Poirot nor Bailey spoke until they were back in the situation room, with the door to the conference room firmly shut behind them. "I'm sorry about this, General," Bailey apologized.

  "No, you're not," Poirot said sourly. "But I can't really blame you. Or them. I just wish there was some way I could prove to you that I'm still loyal."

  "I wish there were, too," Bailey said. "But until we come up with something... Look, why don't you head down to the infirmary and have yourself checked out? You were right; I really should have done that before bringing you up here."

  "I'd rather get started on the plans for the prisoner transfer." He eyed Bailey. "You will accept my assistance on that, won't you?"

  "Of course, sir," Bailey said. "But there'll be time for that after the doctors have checked you over."

  Poirot grimaced. But it was clear that the other wasn't going to budge on this one. "As you command," he said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "I'll be back soon."

  He was halfway across the situation room when a pair of Security men detached themselves from the wall and fell quietly into step behind him.

  But again, there was nothing he could do about it. With loyalty-conditioning, he reflected grimly, a man always knew who he could trust. Without it, how could anyone know anything?

  But there was one thing he did know. Skyler would pay for this. He would pay dearly.

  * * *

  Ramirez was waiting by the spotter command console. "Well?" Bailey asked as he walked up.

  "They're on their way back," Ramirez confirmed. "We've been in contact with each of the pilots, and they all appear to be our people. Interesting footnote: one of the search teams reports they found a section of drop pod that hadn't deployed."

  Bailey frowned. "Someone was killed?"

  "No, it hadn't deployed because there was apparently no one using that section," Ramirez explained.

  "With one slot empty, one man doubling as two, and three of them now in Denver—"

  "We have a match on our numbers," Bailey said. "So there is just one blackcollar loose in the mountains."

  "Which fits with what General Poiro
t said," Ramirez reminded him. "You think he could be telling the truth about still being loyal?"

  "I don't know," Bailey said with a helpless shrug. "Maybe he just gave us the number knowing it's something we'd have been able to chase down on our own anyway."

  "Though they certainly went to some trouble making the one man look like two," Ramirez said.

  "Unless that was just a giveaway," Bailey said, scowling at the back of the spotter controller's head. This was getting way too complicated for his liking.

  "The searchers will keep at it," Ramirez promised. "Speaking of which, I was thinking it might be a good idea to rotate everyone through the Boulder office, even people from Athena. Make sure there aren't any imposters mixed in before we send them trooping back through your gate."

  "Good idea," Bailey agreed. "Go ahead and give the orders."

  "I already have, sir."

  "I see," Bailey said, an odd sensation creeping up his back. "Well. Good."

  "We should know about everyone by midnight at the latest," Ramirez went on. "Was anything else decided in there after I left?"

  "We're going to pretend General Poirot's genuinely a traitor," Bailey said, studying the other's face. "He and I are going to work out a plan to transfer the Phoenix prisoners to Colorado Springs forty-eight hours from now and see if we can lure the blackcollars out from under their rock."

  "All right," Ramirez said slowly. "If you do capture them, you'll be bringing them back here?"

  "Yes, we will," Bailey growled, wincing at the memories. "And you can rest assured it will not end up like the last time."

  "I hope not, sir," Ramirez said evenly. "What would you like me to do next?"

  "What do you want to do next?" Bailey countered.

  A hint of a frown crossed Ramirez's forehead. "Whatever you need, Colonel," he said, sounding a little puzzled. "I'm just here to help out."

  "Of course," Bailey murmured. "In that case, why don't you head up to Interrogation and see if they've been able to dig out anything new."