Blackcollar: The Judas Solution

by Timothy Zahn

  "No," Jensen said quietly. "Under the circumstances, I think you deserve a final crack."

  "Thank you." Foxleigh hesitated, then turned his gun around and offered it to Jensen. "Here—I won't be needing this anymore. Tie up the survivors and meet me back at the Talus."

  He started to turn away, but Jensen caught his arm. "I was willing to fly the fighter into that hell, you know," the blackcollar said quietly.

  "I know," Foxleigh assured him. "And I'm sure the ghosts of your past appreciate the thought. But this is my world, and my duty."

  "And you have your own ghosts to deal with?"

  "Actually, I've been able to mostly put them to rest over the years," Foxleigh said, eyeing him. The man still wasn't completely convinced, he sensed. "You mentioned someone named Novak just before I pulled my gun on you. A friend of yours?"

  "The best," Jensen said, a flicker of old pain crossing his face. "Two years ago, on Argent, he died in my place."

  "I'm sorry," Foxleigh said. "But look at it this way. If I'd been in Gotterdammerung that day like I should have been, I'd probably have died very quickly, certainly without making any real difference. Was Novak a pilot?"

  Jensen shook his head. "He couldn't have found the throttle with a map."

  "So if he'd been here instead of you, he probably wouldn't have had any reason to want to get into Aegis," Foxleigh said. "And without someone to help me, I wouldn't have been able to get in. I trust you see where I'm with this."

  Jensen rolled his eyes. "By surviving the way we did, we're now going to get a better shot at hurting the Ryqril than we would have had otherwise?"

  "Basically," Foxleigh said. "Don't you love it when the universe gives you object lessons?"

  "Not really," Jensen said candidly. "But I guess it's better than no lessons at all."

  "Agreed," Foxleigh said. "So tie them up and let's get to it. We've got a final checklist to run. And odds are I'm going to need your help getting into the cockpit."

  * * *

  The last cross corridor had been cleared, with another half-dozen Ryqril bodies to add to the afternoon's toll, and Spadafora had spotted and driven back two attempted sorties from behind.

  It had been a good assault, Lathe knew, as such things went. All four of them had collected a number of laser burns across their flexarmor, but so far none of the enemy had been lucky enough to get that crucial second shot that would burn all the way through to the fragile skin and bone and blood underneath.

  Eventually, they would, he knew. Certainly for many of the blackcollars embroiled in the battle outside their skill and luck had already run out. The tingler messages flashing back and forth between Shaw's men was a bitter reminder of what it was costing to keep the bulk of Taakh's troops pinned down and out of the inside team's way.

  It was up to Lathe to make sure those men hadn't given their lives for nothing.

  "Is that it?" Spadafora asked, coming up behind him and pointing to the door directly ahead.

  "Should be," Lathe agreed, reaching behind him and sliding one of the appropriated Ryqril short swords from his belt. "Let's see what's happening with those lasers." Holding the sword like a spear, he threw it toward the door.

  And flinched back as the acrid green flash of a laser slashed out, slicing across the flying blade and sending a spray of liquid metal droplets in all directions. By the time the sword completed its arc, barely half of the hilt was left to bounce off the door.

  "That answers that question," Spadafora said conversationally.

  Lathe nodded grimly. "I guess it does."

  * * *

  From the other side of the monitor room door came a soft thunk. "What was that?" Haberdae demanded, half turning in his seat to look at the door.

  "Something hit the door," Galway told him. "Something thrown, probably, that your defense lasers weren't able to completely disintegrate."

  "Maybe it was a spare arm bone," Haberdae said with a sniff.

  "I doubt it," Galway said. He drew a deep breath. "They didn't follow you to the strongpoint, you know."

  Haberdae frowned. "What?"

  "They didn't follow you to the strongpoint the night of the casino attack," Galway repeated. "They already knew that was where Caine was being held."

  Haberdae's face was a surging sea of bewilderment. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he demanded.

  Lifting Taakh's laser, Galway shot him in the leg.

  The bewilderment vanished into utter disbelief as Haberdae bellowed in pain. Ignoring him, Galway shifted his aim to the row of Ryqril techs, shooting his way systematically down the line of suddenly panicked aliens until all of them were dead. Then, stepping to the control board, he lifted the orange cover and turned off the defense lasers.

  He'd just closed the cover again when a much louder thud came from the door. "Galway!" Haberdae hissed between clenched teeth, his hands gripping his injured thigh. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Don't you really mean how the hell am I doing it?" Galway countered.

  Haberdae's eyes widened as the deeper question finally sank in—

  And then the door slid open, and Lathe and the others strode into the room. "You made it," Galway greeted them soberly, gesturing toward Haberdae. "I've got mine."

  "And we've got ours," Lathe said. Turning to a clearly stunned Judas, he took the spy's wrist and twisted it suddenly behind him.

  "Lathe!" Judas yelped. "What are you—?"

  "Clear me a chair," Lathe told Galway as he deftly snapped off Judas's belt, letting it and its attached weapons clatter to the floor.

  Galway stepped over to the closest chair and pulled the dead Ryq out of it, swiveling it around to face the blackcollars as Lathe walked a still protesting Judas over and sat him down. Spadafora produced a pair of quick-ties, and a moment later the boy's wrists were fastened securely to the armrests. "There we go," Lathe said as he began removing Judas's other weapons from the various pouches on his flexarmor.

  "Sorry about this—what's his name, Galway?"

  "Karl Judas," Galway said, watching the blood drain from Judas's face.

  "Judas?" Lathe echoed, looking at Judas with fresh interest. "You're joking."

  "Not at all," Galway assured him. "Caine's Resistance friends have a very warped sense of humor."

  "I think it's more irony than humor, actually," Spadafora put in as he similarly secured Haberdae's wrists.

  "Whatever," Galway said. "For what it's worth, he didn't really want to do this. His whole town's essentially being held hostage for his good behavior."

  "We'll have to bring that up with the command half-circle when we talk to them," Lathe said, stowing Judas's weapons in his own pouches. "They in the central core?"

  "Either there or in the lounge just off the core," Galway said. "Watch yourselves—they probably have a full guard in there with them."

  "Understood," Lathe said, collecting Judas's weapons belt from the floor and tossing it to Spadafora.

  "You want one of us to stay here with you?"

  Galway shook his head. "I can handle them."

  "We'll be back soon," Lathe said, motioning the others to the door. Mordecai opened it and glanced out, and the three blackcollars disappeared outside.

  "This is insane," Haberdae said mechanically, his eyes locked in disbelief on Galway. "Insane."

  "Perhaps," Galway said, looking over at Judas. Some of the color had come back into the younger man's face, but he had much the same look as Haberdae. "It's called Whiplash, Judas," he said. "I don't know where it came from, but its sole function in life is to release people from Ryqril loyalty-conditioning."

  Haberdae sucked in his breath. "That's impossible," he said.

  "Impossible and insane both," Galway agreed. "But it works." He took a deep breath, let it go in a tired sigh. "It works."

  Judas's tongue swiped at his lips. "How long?" he asked.

  "Since I was turned?" Galway shook his head. "Actually, only since last night. Lathe ambushe
d me on the road, knocked out my guard and driver ..." He hefted the laser. "And gave me a whole new purpose in life."

  "A purpose of—" Judas broke off, an odd look flashing briefly across his face. "A purpose of treason," he continued, a subtle new tone in his voice. "How can you do this to your people?"

  "What my people need is freedom," Galway said, frowning. Something was wrong here. But what? He looked down at Judas's wrists, still fastened to the armrests, confirmed that Haberdae was also still restrained.

  So where was Judas's sudden new courage coming from?

  "And you think this will get it for them?" Judas demanded. "Well, you're wrong. All it'll do is get you killed and bring reprisals down on the whole TDE."

  "Lathe has a plan," Galway said firmly, trying to conceal his own misgivings. He wasn't at all sure that this was going to work, that the Ryqril wouldn't react in exactly the way Judas was suggesting. But the plan was already in motion, and he could either help or watch it go down in flames.

  If Lathe was wrong, God help them all.

  Across the room, the door slid open. "That was fast," Galway commented, turning toward it.

  But it wasn't Lathe.

  It was Taakh.

  For a suspended fraction of a second man and Ryq stared at each other in mutual disbelief. Then, Galway broke free of his paralysis and swung his laser around, trying desperately to get in the first shot.

  But if khassq warriors weren't as fast as blackcollars, they were far faster than ordinary humans. Even as Galway tried to bring his weapon to bear Taakh snatched out his short sword, flipped it into a throwing grip, and hurled it across the room. The sword slammed crossways into the laser's trigger guard, slicing two of Galway's fingers and knocking the weapon out of his grip. It caromed off the monitor board and skittered away into the far corner of the room.

  "I could ha' killed yae," Taakh said, his voice quietly dark, his eyes flicking once to the dead techs.

  Galway clenched his hand over the blood welling from his fingers. "Why didn't you?" he heard himself ask.

  "'Ecause I rould rather kill yae rith ny own hands," the Ryq said. Stepping away from the door, he started toward Galway. "'Re'are yaersel' 'or death."

  * * *

  The sky was beginning to darken over the mountains when, in the distance, Skyler heard a faint explosion.

  He looked at the two Ryqril, standing over by the air vent with Poirot, Bailey, and the lieutenant. Both aliens had turned toward the southeast, their postures unnaturally stiff as they listened intently. There was a second explosion, and a third—

  Abruptly Halaak snatched a small comm from his belt and snarled into it. Even as a fourth explosion echoed through the mountains the Corsair hovering overhead stirred and lifted into the sky, picking up speed as it headed toward the sound. Putting away the comm, Halaak turned and strode across the clearing toward the prisoners, his hand clenching the grip of his holstered laser. "This may be it," Skyler warned the others quietly.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawking and O'Hara exchange glances. "We're ready," Hawking said.

  Halaak came to a halt three meters from Skyler, his dark eyes glaring down at the blackcollar. "Who is in the nountain?" he demanded.

  Skyler gazed up at him, a sudden whisper of hope floating through him. He'd been improvising on the mission plan ever since they'd arrived on Earth without ever really getting back onto Lathe's original track. Now, with Halaak demanding answers and Battle Architect Daasaa listening from across the clearing, maybe there was one last chance to do so. "There's no one else," he said mildly. "We're all here. You counted us yourself."

  "A traitor 'ron Khoenix, then," Halaak persisted. "Who?"

  Skyler shook his head. "There's no one in Aegis," he said. "No one but the nine men you just sent in."

  "That's impossible," Poirot insisted, taking a step toward them. "They were fresh recruits who'd been in Athena since their loyalty-conditioning. You couldn't possibly have gotten to them with your damned Whiplash."

  "No, we couldn't," Skyler agreed. "But then, we didn't have to."

  Deliberately, Halaak drew his laser. "Traitor," he said, very softly. He lifted the weapon—

  And turning, he pointed the weapon at Poirot and fired.

  There was a brilliant green flash, and without even a gasp Poirot fell to the ground. "Traitor!" Halaak shouted again at the limp body. Shifting aim, he fired again, this time at the Security lieutenant standing beside Daasaa. "Traitor!" he said. He swung the weapon toward Colonel Bailey—

  And in that instant, with the khassq's back to them and his weapon pointed the wrong way, the blackcollars moved.

  Shoving off the ground and the tree trunk behind him, Skyler leaped to his feet. Flynn was right with him, bringing his shackled arms around as Skyler tossed his dragonhead ring into the boy's hand.

  Halaak spun back around at the commotion, his weapon swinging around with him. But he was too late.

  Dropping into a half crouch, Flynn twisted his torso and legs into the spinning kick that Skyler had seen him and Mordecai practicing for so many long hours back at the Hamner Lodge training center.

  And as his leg and arms windmilled around toward the front, Flynn sent the ring spinning straight at Halaak.

  The khassq, stepping casually back from a spinning kick he saw would be short, was caught completely off guard. Before he could do more than jerk in surprise, the ring's bat-wing crest buried itself in his throat.

  The impact staggered him back, his reflexive shot going wild. He bellowed, a strange gurgling sound, as he tried to bring his laser back onto target.

  But even as he lined up the weapon, O'Hara half leaped up into Hawking's cupped hands and was hurled into the tree branches above them, his weight pulling one of the branches straight down to slash down across Halaak's face.

  The khassq bellowed again, swinging a hand up to push the branch aside, trying desperately to dodge out of its way to where he would be able to see again.

  But once again, and for the last time in his life, he was a fraction of a second too late. Charging toward him at full speed, Skyler threw himself sideways at the Ryq's legs, catching him just below the knees and throwing his head and torso violently forward.

  Just in time for Flynn's sideways door-clearer leap to catch him squarely in the face. There was a muffled snap of breaking spinal bone, and Halaak slammed onto the ground and lay still.

  "Hold it!" Hawking snapped. "You hear me, Ryq? Stand down."

  Skyler rolled out from beneath Halaak's legs and up into a crouch. Hawking had retrieved the khassq's laser, his manacled hands holding it pointed toward Daasaa and Bailey. O'Hara was kneeling in front of him, his shoulder providing a rest for the laser barrel, making it dead certain that the other wouldn't miss his shot.

  And Daasaa clearly knew it. His own laser was half drawn, but still pointed at the ground, and he was making no attempt to draw it out any farther. "Rhy?" he shouted back.

  "Because we don't particularly want to kill you," Skyler said. "On the contrary, we have a message we want you to deliver to the high command."

  Daasaa looked at Bailey, then back at Hawking. Then, slowly, he lowered the laser the rest of the way into its holster and let his hand fall to his side. "I rill listen."

  Skyler looked over at Hawking and O'Hara, caught the latter's eye and nodded toward Taakh. O'Hara nodded back in understanding. The khassq was almost certainly dead, but O'Hara would make sure.

  "You okay?" Skyler asked, turning to Flynn.

  The boy nodded, his eyes on Taakh. "It worked," he murmured. "It actually worked." He looked up at Skyler, the ghost of an uncertain smile touching his lips.

  "It sure did," Skyler agreed.

  And now this was it. His improvised tactics had gotten him here; but it was Lathe's message that would or would not carry the day. Taking a deep breath, he gestured Flynn toward Daasaa. "Come on," he said.

  "Let's go end a war."

  * * *

  "Yo
u don't want to kill me," Galway said as Taakh took another step forward, a small part of his mind noting the insane irony of the words. Of course Taakh wanted to kill him.

  And he would, too. Without a weapon, Galway had no chance in the universe of surviving a confrontation with a khassq-class warrior.

  And then, from nowhere, came a small, desperate flicker of an idea. "Because if you do," he added,

  "you'll never know what happened here."

  "Yae are a traitor," Taakh said. "There is nothing else tae know."

  "Don't you at least want to know Lathe's plan?" Galway persisted.

  Almost reluctantly, Taakh slowed to a halt. "What ha' yae tae say?"

  "Be careful, Your Eminence," Judas put in urgently. "He's stalling for time. The other blackcollars are here somewhere."

  "I dae not 'ear the 'lackcollars," Taakh said contemptuously. "'Ery rell, traitor. S'eak."

  Galway took a deep breath. He'd bought himself some time. Now all he had to do was figure out what to do with it. "We never fooled him," he told Taakh. "Not for a minute. He was on to our replacement of Caine from the very beginning."

  "I knew it," Haberdae growled, glaring at Judas. "I knew he'd foul up somewhere."

  "It wasn't anything Judas did," Galway told him. "Lathe's been expecting someone to try this trick ever since he found out that Caine was himself a clone. He followed the same logic we did—that the Resistance would have created more than just one—and knew we'd eventually track down one of the others and try a substitution."

  "So he had some kind of private recognition signal set up," Judas murmured, wincing.

  "Exactly," Galway said. "I don't know what it was. Not that it really matters."

  "So Lathe knew o' the su'stitaetion," Taakh said.

  "Yes," Galway said. "But he also knew we'd have to wait until the team reached Khala to make the switch. That's why he went to so much trouble to decoy us with those fake drop pods and sneak in another way. He needed a few minutes while they weren't under surveillance to call Shaw and arrange for someone to tail Caine once they made the switch."