by Timothy Zahn
* * *
"There it is," Lathe said, pointing ahead. "You see that gold crown sort of thing sticking up above the wall?"
"You mean inside the wall?" Spadafora asked, leaning over the seat between Lathe and Mordecai for a better look.
"It's not actually inside," Lathe told him. "The special-access gates are in deep indentations, set far enough back from the street that a passing government car won't accidentally trigger them when no one actually wants to go in."
"Pretty stupid design, if you ask me," Mordecai commented.
Lathe shrugged. "Shaw tells me there were a lot of riots here in the early years of the occupation. The top officials didn't want to leave their cars open to potshots from the mobs when they had to stop at guard stations for ID checks. By the time things settled down and Security got order restored, they'd gotten used to the convenience."
They drove past the gate. "Okay, yeah, I see how it works," Spadafora said as Lathe continued down the street and turned at the next corner. "Shouldn't be a problem. You want me any place in particular?"
"No, your choice," Lathe told him. "Just be ready to jump in any direction if the reaction is hotter than expected."
"Got it," the other said as Lathe turned again onto the next street, heading them back toward the gate one block away from the wall. "Anywhere here is good."
Lathe rolled the car to a halt by the walkway, and Spadafora hopped out into the deserted street. "I hope you realize how conspicuous we are," Mordecai warned as Lathe pulled away again. "I don't think we've seen ten other cars since we left the mountains."
"You don't always get to control the timing," Lathe reminded him. They continued down the street, catching another glimpse of the gate as they passed the cross street that led directly toward it. "What do you think? One block or two?"
"You think the steering can handle two?"
Lathe wiggled the wheel experimentally. "Seems pretty tight," he said. "Especially since, as you say, there's hardly any other traffic, which means we can run it straight down the middle of the street where it'll have the most wiggle room."
Mordecai nodded. "Let's make it two, then."
A few minutes and three turns later Lathe once again stopped the car, this time in the middle of the cross street with the car pointed toward the special-access gate two blocks away. Mordecai was ready with the tie rope, and together they got the steering wheel anchored securely in place. "How fast do we want?"
Mordecai asked as he produced a pair of shuriken from his weapons pouch.
"Not very," Lathe said, pulling on his battle-hood and gloves. "They normally don't head in any faster than about thirty klicks per hour. We should probably run it a little slower than that."
"Okay." Crouching on the pavement beside the open driver's door, Mordecai pressed down experimentally on the accelerator with his hand, bringing the tachometer to the right spot and wedging one of the shuriken into the floor beneath the pedal. "Ready."
Lathe moved to the side and got a hand on the open door. "Go."
In a single smooth motion Mordecai shifted the car into gear, pressed the accelerator down against the shuriken he'd just placed, and then jabbed the other throwing star above it into the side of the center console, wedging the pedal firmly in place between them. The car leaped forward, and he just missed getting his arm slammed in the door as Lathe swung it closed. Rolling along at perhaps ten kilometers per hour, the car trundled its way down the street, heading straight for the gate. "And away we go,"
Lathe murmured, pulling out a pair of shuriken of his own.
Keeping to the shadows, the two blackcollars set off after the vehicle, setting their pace so that the car pulled slowly but steadily ahead. The car crossed the first street without incident ... crossed the second street, the one paralleling the wall, again without running afoul of other traffic ... headed into the indentation on its final approach to the gate, which according to Shaw's information should even now be opening.
Only it wasn't.
"Uh-oh," Lathe muttered, holding out a warning hand to Mordecai as he slowed to a walk.
The words were barely out of his mouth when, with a muffled crunching of metal and plastic, the car rolled almost leisurely into the closed gate. An instant later all four of the open windows exploded with thick black smoke from the bomb they'd set in the backseat.
"Looks like Galway recovered fast enough to make it back to the strongpoint," Lathe commented.
"Or else they normally shut down the transponder system at night," Mordecai said. "How much effort do you want to put into this?"
"Not that much," Lathe assured him, reaching to his tingler. Spadafora: withdraw to Point Two. "All I care about is that they now have some evidence that we're more interested in the government center than we are in getting into Khorstron. That should help keep Haberdae's own people battening down the hatches here instead of getting in our way."
The wall's outer lights were starting to come on as the two blackcollars ran lightly down the street away from the still-smoking car. Spadafora was waiting at the agreed-upon rendezvous point, with a car already hot-wired and ready. "That has to be the shortest mission on record," he commented as he pulled away from the curb. "Can we go home now?"
"Yes, let's," Lathe said, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. "It's been a very long day."
* * *
To Galway's mild surprise, Haberdae himself showed up at the strongpoint to pick him up. Or at least, he was surprised until he saw who the van's other passenger was.
"Dae the 'lackcollars now know e'erything?" Taakh demanded harshly as he strode through the door, the Security men who had gathered in the entryway room backing up hastily at his approach. He came to a halt a meter away from where Galway was sitting, glaring down at him.
"No, Your Eminence, they don't," Galway assured him. "They never got into the strongpoint, and they never asked either my escort or me what we were doing up here."
A little of the stiffness went out of Taakh's posture. "Yae are certain?"
"Absolutely," Galway said. "My driver can corroborate that."
"We were lucky," Haberdae murmured.
"I suppose you could say that," Galway agreed, a touch of cynicism coloring the pain in his stillthrobbing head and stomach. Of course Haberdae had volunteered to accompany Taakh out here—it was another opportunity to subtly remind the Ryq how much more capable and competent he was than the backwoods Plinry prefect who'd been foisted on him and had then been careless enough to let himself get ambushed by their enemies.
Only in this case, though Haberdae didn't know it, his self-preening tactic was about to blow up in his face.
And in fact, Taakh's very next question was the one Galway had known he would eventually ask. "Hor did yae allor they tae 'ollow yae here?" the Ryq asked, his eyes boring into Galway's.
"They didn't follow me, Your Eminence," Galway said calmly. "The guards have examined the sensor posts guarding the driveway, and they've found the same radioactive damage that's been inflicted on the Khorstron fence post. Spadafora has to have been here for at least the last day and a half."
"S'ada'ora?" Taakh repeated. "Yae said S'ada'ora ras at Khorstron."
"Apparently, we were mistaken," Galway said, forcing himself not to flinch beneath the Ryq's glare. "It must be one or more of Shaw's men there instead."
For a few seconds Taakh glared down at Galway in silence, apparently still working it through. "All others," he said at last. "Lea'e us."
The other Security men didn't need to be told twice. They filed out quickly and silently, clearly relieved at the chance to escape the explosive atmosphere. A minute later Taakh, Haberdae, and Galway were alone. "I' S'ada'ora ras here that long, he nust ha' 'ound it sone other ray," the Ryq continued, his gaze still on Galway. "Ex'lain."
"I don't know for certain," Galway said carefully. "But what Lathe told me was that they followed Prefect Haberdae up here two nights ago after our effort to capture Tactor Shaw."
Slowly, deliberately, Taakh turned to Haberdae. "Yae cane here?" he asked softly.
Haberdae's face had gone the color of sealant putty. "Yes, Your Eminence," he managed, his tongue stumbling over the words. "I ... wanted to talk to Caine. I thought he might know some tricks—when a blackcollar goes to ground, I thought he might know—"
"Yae cane here?" Taakh repeated. His hand was resting on his holstered laser, the large fingers curled around the weapon's grip.
"They couldn't have followed me, Your Eminence," Haberdae insisted, his voice shaking, his eyes trying valiantly to tear themselves away from the holstered laser. "It's impossible. I know how to watch for—"
"'Re'ect Galray ordered that no run ras tae cone here," Taakh cut him off. "Did yae not know that?"
Haberdae took a deep breath. "Yes, Your Eminence, I did," he said. His voice had gone calm, the voice of someone whose fate was no longer even marginally in his own hands. "I have no excuse."
For a long moment Taakh stood facing him in silence, his hand still gripping his laser. Galway watched, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.
And then, slowly and deliberately, Taakh took his hand off his weapon. "Yaer heart is in ny hand, 'Re'ect Ha'erdae," he said, stretching out his hand with the open palm upward. "Yaer li'e 'elongs tae ne."
Haberdae shivered. "I understand, Your Eminence," he managed.
A sympathetic shiver ran up Galway's back. Taakh had just passed a summary judgment of death for Haberdae's actions.
And though the judgment had been temporarily suspended, the prefect was living on borrowed time.
From this point on, at any time, at any place, and for any infraction, real or imagined, Taakh could choose to reinstate that death sentence.
When he did, Haberdae would probably never even see it coming.
Taakh looked back at Galway. "Yae are rell?" he asked.
"I'm well enough, Your Eminence," Galway said, bracing himself. With Taakh in this mood, this might be exactly the wrong time to broach this particular subject. But on the other hand, with the Ryq's thoughts focused on Haberdae's failures—and with Galway looking that much better by comparison, especially after managing to get back to the strongpoint in time to warn about Lathe's threatened incursion into the government center—it might be precisely the right time. Either way, it was a risk he had to take. "Certainly well enough to be in Khorstron tomorrow for the blackcollars' attack."
For possibly the first time since they'd met, the khassq seemed genuinely surprised. "Khorstron? There is no reason yae need tae 'e there."
"There is every reason, Your Eminence," Galway said firmly. "Only inside Khorstron will I have all the internal sensors and recording equipment I need to follow the blackcollars' attack from start to finish."
"Re already ha' the s'y's re'orts on the 'lan."
"Which we know are incomplete," Galway reminded him. "This evening's split exercises alone prove there are more aspects to the plan than Judas knows. Besides which, all battle plans invariably undergo changes once they're launched. We need on-spot coverage to see how they deal with the unknown and the unexpected."
Taakh looked at Haberdae, back at Galway. "Hunans are not allored into Ryqril tactical centers."
"If I can't be there, we risk this whole thing being for nothing," Galway warned.
"He's right, Your Eminence," Haberdae said, coming unexpectedly to Galway's support. "If we lose even the smallest details of their attack, the Ryqril warriors who ultimately try to use their plan to storm the Daeliak-naa fortress may very well fail." He sent a hooded look at Galway. "After all the effort and lives this operation has cost, I know we would all hate to see it fail."
"Surely a khassq warrior has the authority to change or modify general orders such as this when circumstances require," Galway added, gesturing at Taakh's baldric.
"O' course I dae," Taakh said, as if that were a given. "I rill consider yaer rekest. 'Ut now it is late. Re rill return tae the city."
Galway dozed off in the van as they drove, not waking until they'd reached his building. He said his good nights to the others and trudged wearily to the elevator and from there to his apartment. His whole body felt like he'd been dropped into a fodder-baling machine, and all he wanted to do was fall onto his bed and go to sleep.
But he couldn't. Not yet.
Stepping into the apartment's compact office, he lowered himself into the desk chair and turned on the computer, digging the magnecoded card from his jacket pocket and sliding it into the reader. If all went according to plan, tomorrow would be the final climactic culmination of everything he'd prepared for and worked for and hoped for for so long.
When it came, he intended to be ready.
Propping his chin on his hands on the edge of the desk, fighting against the fatigue tugging at him, he began to read.
CHAPTER 17
Bailey spent the morning at the hospital, listening with growing impatience to the interrogator's latest futile efforts to wring something more about Aegis from the wounded Phoenix boy.
It was just after one in the afternoon when the word came that the quarry was on the move.
"They left the highway half an hour ago and headed into the mountains," Ramirez reported as Bailey strode into the situation room. Beside him, General Poirot stood silently, his face settled into the same grim expression he'd been wearing ever since the blackcollars' rescue and escape the previous evening.
Standing a pace behind the two men were Daasaa and Halaak, towering over the scene like brooding thunderclouds. "We weren't able to get a visual on the driver or passengers, but it has to be them."
Bailey ran his eyes down the readouts. The vehicle in question was a dark blue delivery van, the rear area fully enclosed with no windows, registered to one of Denver's longtime residents. "You've checked the ownership?"
"Stolen this morning," Ramirez told him. "Done very quietly, too—the owner hadn't even missed it."
And according to the picture being relayed from the spotter flying high overhead, the van was headed along the most direct route toward Shelter Valley. "It does look promising," he agreed cautiously, turning to the two Ryqril. "Battle Architect Daasaa, what would you have me do?"
Poirot stirred, but didn't speak. "Re rill ratch until they arri'e at their destination," Daasaa said. "Then re rill take they."
"Or re rill kill they," Halaak added darkly.
"As you command, Your Eminence," Bailey said, wincing at Halaak's almost casual comment. From what he'd seen over the past couple of days, killing blackcollars wasn't something even a Ryq should speak so confidently about. "Though we might want to keep them alive, at least for a while. They may have set up booby traps inside the base."
Halaak snorted contemptuously. "Ryqril rarriors can easily disarn any such tra's."
"Of course," Bailey said hastily. "I didn't mean to imply they couldn't."
"Assuming the warriors can actually get inside, that is," Poirot murmured.
"Yae rish t' s'eak, General 'Oirot?" Daasaa invited.
"I was simply wondering if this back door might have been designed so that only humans could pass,"
Poirot explained. "If I were designing such a place, I'd certainly have added choke points a Ryq wouldn't be able go get through."
"Interesting yae should suggest such a thing," Daasaa said, his tone thoughtful. "I ha' 'een rondering that nysel'."
"It seems a logical thing for them to have done," Poirot said, some of the tightness in his face easing.
Bringing a Ryq potentially bad news was always dangerous unless it was something that the Ryq already knew or suspected. In that case, the human merely came off looking brilliant.
Though considering Poirot's current position, it might only mean he would look less suspicious. Under the circumstances, Bailey suspected the general would be willing to settle for that.
"In that case, we might want to bring some of our own techs and Security men along," Ramirez suggested. "That way, if th
ere are choke points, we won't have to take the time to send back here for them."
"Another interesting 'oint," Daasaa said. "Ha' yae already chosen the hunans yae rish tae 'ring?"
"I—" Ramirez broke off, his expression twitching as he suddenly spotted the verbal trap. "No. No, of course not, Your Eminence."
"And yae, General 'Oirot?" Daasaa asked, looking back at Poirot. "Ha' yae nade a list o' hunans for this jo'?"
"Obviously, they would have to be people we can trust," Poirot said calmly. Unlike Ramirez, he'd clearly already thought it through. "With the blackcollars and Whiplash on the loose, we can't simply grab the nearest men and hope for the best."
"Yae see the 'ro'len," Daasaa said, looking pointedly at Ramirez.
"So my suggestion would be that we assemble a team out of brand-new recruits who've just completed their loyalty-conditioning," Poirot went on. "They've been in Athena for the past three weeks, with no chance that Phoenix could have gotten to them."
"Lieutenant Ranirez?" Daasaa invited.
"Yes, that should work," Ramirez said reluctantly, eyeing Poirot. "Of course, fresh recruits won't be as competent as more seasoned men."
"How competent do they have to be?" Poirot countered. "All they have to do is go in, see what condition the back door and base are in, and come back out to report."
"Unless there are booby traps," Ramirez countered.
"Colonel 'Ailey?" Daasaa asked Bailey felt his throat tighten. They were his men, after all, who Poirot was talking so casually about sacrificing.
But in front of a pair of suspicious Ryqril was no time to look squeamish or hesitant. "General Poirot is right," he said firmly. "If we lose a few men, then we lose them." He looked Ramirez straight in the eye.
"There are certainly more where they came from."
A flicker of surprise crossed Ramirez's face. But then his eyes went sideways to the two Ryqril, and his expression settled back into the plain-tan neutral he seemed to be wearing more and more regularly these days. "Of course," he said evenly.
Bailey looked back at Daasaa. "Does this plan meet with Your Eminences' approval?"
