Blackcollar: The Judas Solution

by Timothy Zahn

  "Yes, sir." Turning, Ramirez headed across the room at a brisk walk.

  Bailey watched until he'd disappeared out the door, then crossed over to the tech at the comm station. "I want you to contact the Boulder Security office," he told the other quietly. "Get me the names and files of everyone on duty there tonight."

  "Yes, sir," the tech said, frowning briefly up at him. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

  "Not really," Bailey said, trying to sound casual. "I just want to know who's up there. In case something goes wrong."

  The tech's lip twitched as he turned back to his board. "Yes, sir."

  "And after you do that," Bailey went on, "have someone pull Lieutenant Ramirez's file and send it down to Analysis. I want to know if there've been any reports of peculiar behavior over the past year."

  He looked over at the door. "In particular, whether or not he's had any long, unexplained absences."

  * * *

  The woods were dark by the time the lights of Shelter Valley began to wink at them through the trees.

  "Where exactly is this sensor pylon?" Flynn whispered.

  "About ten meters that way," Adamson murmured back, pointing ahead and to the left. "Don't worry—

  there's no audio pickup."

  "What about the rest of the townspeople?" Jensen asked, his voice sounding strained. "Will they all be indoors?"

  "I'll keep an eye out," Adamson said. "I'm thinking that maybe you should go straight to Toby's place instead of stopping at the house—it's a lot more private. I can collect my gear and treat you up there."

  Flynn looked down at Jensen. He hadn't complained during the trip, but Flynn could tell that the swaying and bouncing were taking their toll. Now Adamson wanted them to extend the trip another half hour or more? "What do you think?" he asked.

  "Sounds good to me," Jensen said, clearly working hard to filter the pain out of his voice. "Assuming your arms can hold out that long."

  "Our arms are fine," Flynn assured him. "Lead on, Trapper."

  Even by Plinry standards the twenty or so haphazardly scattered houses that made up Shelter Valley hardly qualified as a town. Fortunately, as Adamson had predicted, everyone was already indoors. They passed between the houses like shadows, and twenty meters past the last house they reached another path. There Adamson doubled back, and Trapper and Flynn headed up.

  It was the steepest patch of ground they'd hit yet, and by the time the slope began to level out Flynn's legs were trembling with fatigue. Fortunately, that was the worst of it, and he made it the rest of the way without the embarrassment of having to call for a break.

  The occupant must have been watching for them, because they were still a few steps from the cabin when the door swung open. A short, slender man stood there, framed against the glow of a wood stove behind him. "So I was right," he muttered, stepping back out of their way. "Or maybe not," he corrected himself, turning his head around to peer down at Jensen. "What happened, Trapper? You shoot him?"

  "They ran into Bessie," Trapper said, glancing around the cabin and turning toward a section of open floor near the stove.

  "No, no—on the bed," the other man said, pointing toward the narrow cot pushed against the rear wall.

  In contrast to the ramshackle appearance of the rest of the cabin, the bed was neatly made. "Bessie, huh?

  You have to kill her?"

  "Never even saw her," Trapper told him as he and Flynn set Jensen and his makeshift stretcher onto the bed. "They chased her away themselves. Toby, this is Blackcollar Commando Jensen and Trainee Flynn.

  Gentlemen, meet Toby, Shelter Valley's very own professional hermit."

  "So I was right," Toby murmured, a strange expression on his face. "Blackcollars."

  "Just the one," Flynn said, studying what he could see of Toby's face through the full beard. The man was roughly Jensen's age, with a hint of bitterness at the corners of his mouth. "As Trapper said, I'm just a trainee."

  "You dress like one, though," Toby said. "So what'd Bessie do to you?"

  "Little love tap on the ribs," Jensen told him.

  "Lucky you didn't really rile her," Toby said grimly. "You want something to eat or drink?"

  "Some water would be nice," Jensen said. "Flynn can get it, if you want to point him to the well or stream or whatever."

  "No need," Toby said. Picking up a glass from a small table set by the window, he crossed to the opposite corner and a hand-carved wooden sink set into the wall with a faucet above it. He turned the spigot; and to Flynn's mild surprise water gushed out. "You have a cistern on the roof?" he asked as Toby filled the glass.

  "Just a little one," Toby said, shutting off the flow and taking the glass to Jensen. "Actually, the water's piped in from a stream that runs down the side of the hill back there. A man can live without a lot of things, but running water isn't something I'd ever want to be without."

  "Especially when you've got a bad leg?" Jensen said as he eased himself up on one elbow and accepted the glass.

  "You got sharp eyes," Toby commented. "I'm not even limping that much today."

  "The benefits of training," Jensen said. "Speaking of sharp eyes, I understand you're the one who sent Adamson and Trapper out looking for us."

  Toby shrugged. "Saw all the Security spotters buzzing around. Figured there was some trouble that oughta be looked into."

  "Trouble like this happen very often?" Jensen asked.

  "Happened last year," Toby said significantly. "About the same time Athena Security went a little berserk, in fact."

  "You heard about that?" Flynn asked.

  "We're not that close to the edge of the universe," Trapper said. "We get a couple of the local radio news stations just fine. We've also got two cars and some old logging roads that'll get us to one-nineteen and from there into Denver."

  Flynn nodded understanding. "I was wondering how you all survived out here."

  "Mostly, we live off the land," Trapper said. "We hunt and fish and trap, and there's a couple of decentsized crop areas over the ridge behind town where we grow wheat and vegetables. But there's also a market for our furs in Denver, and some of us also do carvings and pottery that seems to appeal to bigcity people. We get by."

  "They probably think of you as adorably quaint," Jensen said dryly.

  "Let them," Trapper said, a hint of contempt in his voice. "We prefer to think of ourselves as having given up a little civilization for a hell of a lot more freedom."

  "As much as you can get on a Ryqril-run world, anyway," Toby growled as he took Jensen's empty glass from his hand. "More?"

  "Not right now, thanks," Jensen said, easing himself back flat again.

  "Well, there's plenty when you want it," Toby said. He stood gazing down at Jensen for a moment, then turned away and took the glass back to the table. "The other plumbing's even simpler," he said, pointing to a toilet seat fastened to the top of a meter-cube box in the corner by the sink. "That commode over there just opens up over a ravine. Sort of a natural latrine."

  Flynn had wondered about the lack of any obvious plumbing on the fixture. "Beats the hell out of digging one yourself every few years," he commented.

  "Sure does," Toby agreed. "Smells a lot better, too."

  Behind Flynn, the door opened. Instinctively, he snatched out a shuriken and snapped his arm into throwing position.

  But it was only Adamson. "Friend," he said hastily, lifting his free hand palm outward as he swung a large case in through the door with the other.

  "You didn't bring enough stuff, did you?" Toby asked, eyeing the case as Adamson closed the door behind him.

  "Cracked ribs require a little more than just seal-strips and painkillers," Adamson told him. "Okay, Jensen, let's get that flexarmor off and see what we're dealing with."

  Properly fitted flexarmor never came off easily even at the best of times, but with persistence and a fair amount of wincing on Jensen's part they were able to remove his shirt. Adamson's equipment was hardl
y top-line, Flynn noted, but it was adequate for the job and had obviously been well cared for. Adamson, too, seemed to know what he was doing.

  "We've got the traditional good news and bad news," Adamson said when he'd finished. "Good news is that you have two cracked ribs, but they're only slightly cracked. Even better news is that I still have some Calcron that will help stimulate the healing process. A thincast, a few days of complete rest plus a few more of limited activity, and you should heal just fine."

  "Sounds great," Jensen said. "What's the bad news?"

  Adamson sighed. "That I doubt you're going to follow a single instruction I give you," he said soberly.

  "Whatever you came to Denver for, I don't think it was to take time off to stare at the clouds."

  "Maybe we can compromise," Jensen suggested. "Trapper implied the townspeople make occasional runs to Denver. Are there any Security checkpoints along the way?"

  "Not normally," Adamson said. "Though with you here, they might have set some up. You're looking for a ride to town, then?"

  "Flynn is," Jensen said, looking over at Flynn. "I need him to find the rest of the team and let them know where we are."

  "Wait a minute," Flynn said, trying to keep his tone under control. The last thing he was going to do was leave Jensen here alone. Not after that veiled comment about making sure the Ryqril didn't get into Aegis. "You're going to need me here."

  "I'm fine," Jensen said, warning him with his eyes. "I need you to go contact Skyler."

  "But—"

  "I have a message only you can deliver," Jensen said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Flynn sighed silently. Whatever Jensen was planning, it was clear he intended to do it alone.

  "Understood," he murmured.

  "I hope the message isn't too urgent," Trapper warned. "Denver's a big place. It may take a while to find them."

  "Don't worry, we know some shortcuts," Jensen said. "He'll find them."

  "Still cost at least a day." Trapper looked at his father. "And you'd be missed faster than I would."

  "Probably," Adamson agreed reluctantly. "I take it you're volunteering?"

  "Yes," Trapper said. "Though we can't leave until day after tomorrow."

  "Why not?" Adamson frowned. "Oh, that's right. Martin won't be coming back with the sedan until tomorrow night."

  "And Alex and Jane are taking in a load of spices with the pickup tomorrow," Trapper said, nodding.

  "Couldn't we hitch a ride with them?" Flynn asked.

  "No," Adamson said firmly. "They're probably trustworthy, but I don't want any more people than necessary in on this. If Security comes calling, I want their interrogations to show that no one but us had any idea what was going on."

  Flynn grimaced. Lathe had warned them during their training that their very presence would put innocent people at risk, but this was the first time that fact had taken on any flesh-and-blood meaning. It was a sobering thought. "Maybe we could leave as soon as Martin gets back tomorrow," he suggested.

  "The sooner we're out of your way, the better."

  "Agreed," Adamson said. "But Martin will be back too late for us to take off. There are a couple of places along the road you definitely don't want to tackle in the dark."

  "Then I guess it's first light the day after tomorrow," Flynn concluded. He looked questioningly at Jensen. "That all right?"

  Jensen didn't look particularly happy about it, but he nodded. "I guess it'll have to be," he said. "I just hope Skyler doesn't start the party without us."

  "First light it is, then," Adamson said. "Even that early we can't have you showing up in town, though, so I'll come up and take you to a rendezvous spot."

  "Make it Goldfinch Hook," Trapper suggested. "I can wait there out of sight as long as I need to."

  "Fine." Adamson looked at Jensen, a small smile touching his lips. "Well, it looks like you'll have at least one of those bed-rest days I asked for."

  "Looks like it," Jensen agreed. "Speaking of days, mine has been long and fairly uncomfortable," he added, easing himself up off the bed again. "I'd like to find myself a corner and settle down for the night."

  "You stay right where you are," Toby said firmly. "I've got a couple of old bedrolls the kid and I can use."

  "He's right," Adamson seconded. "Let me get a thincast on you, then mix you up some of that Calcron."

  * * *

  Adamson got the blackcollar fixed up, and he and his son headed back to town.

  Leaving Foxleigh and his new houseguests alone.

  Despite the long day Jensen had mentioned, he and Flynn didn't go immediately to sleep. Instead, they whispered together for nearly half an hour, Jensen on the bed, Flynn on his borrowed bedroll on the floor beside him.

  They kept their voices too low for Foxleigh to hear what they were saying. But that didn't matter. Three things were already certain, and they were all he needed. One: in a little over a day Flynn would be going to Denver, leaving Jensen behind. Two: Jensen was definitely one of the blackcollars he'd seen slipping into Aegis Mountain a year ago. And three: with Adamson's thincast wrapped around his torso, Jensen wasn't going to be fitting into his fancy flexarmor shirt anytime soon.

  Which meant the time had finally come.

  Rolling over on his bedroll, wincing at the unaccustomed hardness of the floor beneath him, Foxleigh drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  "As I said before, there's a lot of guesswork here," Shaw warned as he dropped the stack of rolled papers on one end of the kitchen table and selected one from the pile. "But it's all we've got."

  "Understood," Lathe said. "Let's take a look."

  Standing beside Mordecai at the side of the table, Judas craned his neck as Shaw unrolled the sheet and spread it out. To his surprise, it looked nearly as detailed as an actual blueprint would have been. If this was guesswork, he thought with a shiver, he would hate to see what blackcollars came up with when they actually had something to work with.

  "This is the main floor," Shaw identified it. He tapped at the four sides in turn. "Here are the four entrances we saw yesterday; the eight entrance bunkers, two per door; and the reinforced bases at each of the eight corners for the antiaircraft lasers."

  "Where's Spadafora?" Judas asked, looking around as he suddenly realized the third Plinry blackcollar wasn't there. In fact, now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn't seen the other leaving for their look at Khorstron the previous afternoon.

  "He's out on another job," Lathe said.

  "Comsquare Lathe has him dealing with the sensors in the fence," Shaw added.

  "The sensors?" Judas asked, his stomach tightening. Surely they weren't attacking today, were they?

  "You mean we're—today?"

  "No, no," Shaw soothed, looking rather amused. "Certain things take time, Trainee Caine. Aged whiskey and out-link sensor systems are two of them."

  Judas swallowed. "Oh," he said, feeling his face warming. "Sorry."

  "Looks like there are mantrap foyers inside each entrance," Lathe said, tapping the large oval rooms behind the east entrance.

  "Probably," Shaw agreed. "We don't know how they're furnished, of course, but from the thickness of the walls and these support points we assume each will have a couple of autotarget lasers flanking the inner door and a pair of guard holes a meter or two around the curve from them."

  Judas winced. "That doesn't sound good."

  "Depends on how they're set up," Lathe said. "Autotargeters can sometimes be disabled with a shuriken or two."

  "Though you do tend to get only one shot at a given laser," Shaw said.

  "There's that," Lathe agreed. "Tell me more about these entrance guard bunkers. You implied earlier that they didn't have any outer doors?"

  "Right—they open directly through the wall into the base."

  "So you could get inside through the bunkers?"

  "Yes, but I wouldn't count on that being very useful," Shaw said. "The bunker walls themselves a
re relatively thin, but the entry doors behind them are every bit as tough as the main door they're protecting. And of course, with no external door on the bunker you'd have to blow the front off the thing to even gain access."

  "Still, it would avoid the mantrap problem," Lathe pointed out. "What about the outer bunkers, the ones at the gate entrances?"

  "Same deal, only the guards get in from the base via underground tunnels," Shaw said. "Here, here, here, and here. And, of course, once you were through the tunnels you'd have the same serious door to get through at the base end."

  "Plus whatever additional goodies the Ryqril put in the tunnels themselves to discourage trespassers,"

  Lathe said.

  Shaw nodded. "Plus that."

  "Why four entrances?" Mordecai asked suddenly.

  "What?" Shaw asked, frowning at him.

  "Four entrances, but the only thing nearby is Inkosi City to the west," Mordecai said. "There aren't any towns shown anywhere else, or even any real roads leading to the area. So why bother with the north, south, and east gates?"

  Shaw shrugged. "Maybe they're just there for emergencies. Maybe they're planning to build barracks or auxiliary facilities on those sides. Or maybe they just got a good deal on reinforced doors. The point is that we have four possible ways of getting in and not just one."

  "Yes," Lathe murmured. "Convenient."

  "You want to look at this or don't you?" Shaw growled. "You do? Fine." He leaned over the table and tapped a circular opening in the center. "Here's the heart of the place, dead center on the first floor. No big surprise there—it's the most protected spot in the building."

  "What's in there?" Judas asked.

  "The gold at rainbow's end," Shaw said. "Or at least, all the gold we care about. The core's where all the data comes in, which is then parceled out to the various collation and analysis stations in other parts of the building. Once everything's been sifted, the analyses and conclusions are sent back to the core, where the permanently stationed half circle of Ryqril command officers make decisions and send out orders.

  There are things we could glean from offices all over the building, but the core's the only place to get everything at once."