by Timothy Zahn
"They rill 'e 'rought tae the western Athena gate taenorror norning," Daasaa promised without hesitation.
"Run o' they is injured and rill rekire an a'ulance."
"We'll have something ready." Skyler looked over at Flynn. "And tell the high command one other thing," he said. "There aren't too many of us left who lived through the war and remember what Ryqril are truly like. The younger generation doesn't, and their overall attitude toward you is probably pretty casual."
He lifted a warning finger. "But if you try destroying cities and slaughtering our people on your way out, they'll find out about you ... and when we and the Chryselli finally have you broken on the ground—and we will—you'll find out how vengeful we humans can be. Trust me; you do not want to see that."
Daasaa held his gaze without flinching. "I ha' said I rill take yaer 'ro'osal tae the high connand," he said evenly. "I can 'ronise nothing else."
"Then go," Skyler said. "Call a spotter from Athena and go."
For a moment Daasaa didn't move. Then, pulling a comm from his belt, he keyed it on and spoke a few words in Ryqrili. He was answered, said something else, then turned off the device and put it away.
"They rill cone," he said. He drew himself up to his full height, one last show of pride, and stared down into Skyler's eyes. "Re rill not neet again, hunan."
"No," Skyler agreed quietly. "We had better not."
Skyler had half expected a last-minute attempt at an ambush, either while Daasaa was still in their hands or just after he was taken away. But twenty minutes later, with the departing spotter a fading speck in the sky, there had still been no such move.
Perhaps the plumes of glowing smoke drifting across the darkening mass of Aegis Mountain had something to do with it. The Ryqril were rattled, straight down to the soles of their rubbery feet.
And Daasaa, battle architect, held the key to their only way out.
"When did you get to Ramirez?" Bailey asked.
Skyler turned from his contemplation of the distant smoke. "Excuse me?"
"I know when you treated General Poirot," Bailey said. "I want to know when you turned Lieutenant Ramirez."
Skyler shook his head. "We didn't."
Bailey's eyes widened. "But Halaak called him a traitor. He killed him, for God's sake."
"He killed Poirot, too," Skyler said. "But the general wasn't a traitor, either. Despite the Whiplash treatment, he was never actually working with us. On the contrary, he was working just as hard as he could to nail us to the wall."
"That's impossible," Bailey insisted, his disbelief turning to anger. "Your plan was too neat to have happened by accident. The rescue, and then—wait a minute. If Ramirez and the general weren't working for you, how did you get to the team we sent into Aegis Mountain?"
"We didn't," Skyler said, his heart tightening as his eyes drifted back to the smoke. "We had a man already in the mountain. Jensen—you might remember him from the last time. He's the one who wrecked the Ryqril base."
Bailey's face tightened as he looked across the clearing to where Hawking and O'Hara had moved the bodies of his fellow officers. "So it was all smoke and mirrors," he said bitterly. "You don't have any secret army waiting to rise up and take Earth back from the Ryqril."
"No, but we could," Skyler said. "We do have Whiplash, and it does work as advertised. But at the moment, no, we don't have more than a few people, and they're in very lowly places. The best we could get out of any of them was the spotters' radio system for us to use during the rescue."
"So Halaak killed Poirot and Ramirez for nothing."
"For absolutely nothing," Skyler agreed. "Which is really the final irony of this whole thing. Once we've proved we have Whiplash, and proved that it works, we almost don't even need to use it on anyone. The Ryqril will shoot at every shadow, real or not, until they've torn down their command structure and their rule all by themselves."
"Only you haven't proved it," Bailey countered. "Stolen radio frequencies apart, you haven't proved Whiplash's abilities at all."
"We haven't proved it here, no," Skyler said. "But with a little luck, Lathe and his team should have just finished proving it in a much more spectacular fashion on Khala."
Bailey frowned. "On Khala?"
"Don't worry about it," Skyler advised. "The point is that, one way or the other, this is the beginning of the end for Ryqril rule in the TDE." He raised his eyebrows. "The question you have to ask yourself is where you want to be standing when that happens."
Bailey's lip twisted. "What do you expect me to say?" he demanded. "I'm a loyal servant of the Ryqril and the TDE government. I could never even think of betraying them."
"Of course not," Skyler said. "Do you remember, Colonel, back at Reger's house when I said you and General Poirot were about to graduate from the third type of person to the fourth?"
"Yes," Bailey said, nodding. "I wondered what you meant by that."
"It's from something my high school physics teacher wrote in my yearbook," Skyler said, his mind drifting back to a distant, simpler past. A past before war and conquering Ryqril and blackcollars. "It goes this way: 'There are four types of people in the world:
" 'He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not. He is a fool; shun him.
" 'He who knows not, and knows that he knows not. He is simple; teach him.
" 'He who knows, and knows not that he knows. He is asleep; wake him.
" 'And he who knows, and knows that he knows. He is wise; follow him.' "
For a long minute Bailey was silent. "And what is it you think I know?"
"I don't know," Skyler said. "Life, maybe, or loyalty, or service, or sacrifice. The question is, how interested are you in finding out?"
Bailey shook his head. "You know I can't make a decision like that." He took a deep breath. "But then, I'm your prisoner, aren't I? Prisoners never get to make their own decisions."
"I understand," Skyler said quietly. Reaching into his belt, he withdrew a hypospray from his medkit. "
'He is asleep.'"
Bailey's gaze drifted again toward where the bodies of Poirot and Ramirez lay. " 'Wake him,' " he murmured.
* * *
Mordecai had a pair of patches from his medkit on Galway's bleeding fingers by the time Lathe and Spadafora returned. "You all right?" Lathe asked, his eyes flicking to Taakh and then back to Galway.
"I can travel," Galway said, wincing as Mordecai helped him to his feet. "I'm just glad you got my message."
"Actually, Mordecai was already on his way back," Lathe told him. "We'd gotten a warning that no one outside could find Taakh anywhere."
So that was what had sparked Judas's sudden burst of courage. "Ah."
"I did make it a point to hurry when you leaned on the tingler, though," Mordecai added. "Speaking of which, are we taking him with us?"
"I don't know," Galway said, looking at Judas. "Karl? You want to be able to go back to what you were a year ago?"
"I don't know," the young man admitted. "It seems so utterly unthinkable." He hesitated. "But I do know I'd like to see my family again."
"Close enough," Lathe said. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in sampling freedom, Prefect Haberdae?"
"Go to hell," Haberdae snarled. "All of you can go straight to hell."
"I'd say that's a no," Spadafora murmured.
"Maybe some day," Lathe said, springing a knife and cutting Judas free from his chair. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
* * *
Full night had fallen by the time Jensen finally pulled himself up the last few rungs of the rope ladder and reached the tunnel leading out into the forest. For a minute he stood there, gazing out the air vent a dozen meters away, wondering what kind of reception Security might have left for him.
"You're late," a voice said from just inside the grating.
Jensen had a shuriken in his hand before his fatigued mind caught up with the voice. "Flynn?" he asked disbelievingly.
"You were expecting t
he Ryqril high command?" A long dark bundle lying at the entrance pulled itself out of the shadows and reformed itself into a human being. "Or did you just think we'd all pack up and take off without you?"
"Frankly, I'd have put the high command higher on my probabilities list than you," Jensen said, crossing to him. "You didn't come out here all alone, did you?"
"Oh, no, the whole gang was here for a while," Flynn said. He whipped something up and around, and Jensen found a blanket settling down around his shoulders. "You missed a fun party, too—Security officers, blackcollars, even a couple of Ryqril stopped by."
"Ryqril?"
"Don't worry, we dealt with them," Flynn assured him. "The khassq is dead, and the battle architect went off to deliver Lathe's ultimatum. No casualties on our side, either, now that you're here." His silhouette cocked its head slightly. "It was Toby, wasn't it?"
"You mean who wrecked the Ryqril base?" Jensen nodded. "He insisted on taking that honor for himself."
"Probably the right thing to do," Flynn said. "He was a pilot, then?"
"Lieutenant Sam Foxleigh, TDE Air Defense," Jensen confirmed. "How did you know?"
Flynn shrugged. "There was just something about him that reminded me of you."
Jensen snorted. "Bullheadedness is hardly a quality unique to pilots," he pointed out. "What did you mean, it was the right thing to do?"
"I meant that if he was a pilot, it was right for him to take on the job." Flynn hesitated. "And that it was right for you to let him take it."
Jensen grimaced. "Look, Flynn, I know some of you have been a little worried about me. When Novak died ... well, they teach soldiers to watch out for the trap of survivor's guilt, but I guess I wasn't paying enough attention that day."
He nodded back toward the mountain behind him. "But I think maybe talking with Foxleigh put it into a little better perspective. In warfare you do what you can, and you play out the hand that's been dealt you, and you don't look back. The only purpose for second-guessing is to find the mistakes you made so that you don't make them again."
"Sounds like the wise advice of a grizzled old warrior," Flynn said.
Jensen nodded. "Foxleigh was all that," he agreed.
"I meant you," Flynn said, a touch of humor coloring his voice. "I mean, it took you forever to get up that ladder."
"Watch your mouth, kid," Jensen growled, mock-warningly. "I'm not so tired I can't run you through a couple of sparring sessions."
"I'll pass," Flynn said. "Anyway, the others had to head back to Denver, but someone will be back to get us in the morning."
"Or at least to get you?"
Flynn shrugged. "I'll admit they're still mostly convinced you died in the attack," he said. "And Skyler wasn't particularly enthusiastic about letting me stick around to wait for you. But like you said, bullheadedness isn't just for pilots."
"Neither is stamina," Jensen said. "Which is just as well. Two of the techs Security sent in are still alive, but with my ribs the way they are I knew I'd never get them back here on my own."
"I can go do that now," Flynn offered. "At least get them to the bottom of the shaft so we can take them out in the morning."
"We'll go together," Jensen said, peering out into the darkness. "And before we leave this place entirely I need to stop back at Shelter Valley. I think that Doc Adamson and his son would appreciate knowing how Foxleigh died."
"Sounds good," Flynn said. "Just bear in mind you'll probably end up telling them his whole life story along with it."
The story of the man who'd lived in secret shame for thirty years ... "Not to worry," he murmured. "They already know all the rest of it."
* * *
Shaw and Caine were waiting at the rendezvous point when Galway and the others arrived. "Caine,"
Galway said, watching the younger man warily as they walked over. The last time he'd seen Caine the two of them had been enemies, and Galway had treated him accordingly.
But if Caine was holding a grudge, it didn't show in his face. "Galway," he greeted the prefect in turn.
"Welcome back to our side."
"It has been a while," Galway admitted, turning to Shaw. "Tactor," he said, nodding.
"It's good to meet you at last, Prefect," the other said. "And for you to truly meet me, as well."
Galway had to smile. The quiet, confident man standing in front of him was so very different from the picture Judas's reports had painted. "Indeed," he said.
"You have any trouble getting Caine out?" Lathe asked, stepping up beside Galway.
Shaw shook his head. "They were about as unready for trouble as it's possible for military men to be."
He nodded past Lathe's shoulder. "I see you brought his evil twin with you."
"Not evil any more," Lathe assured him. "He's had his Whiplash, and is busy regaling Mordecai and Spadafora with the details of the government center security layout. If you're interested in hitting it sometime, that is."
"I might," Shaw said, a touch of quiet pain coloring his voice. "But I lost a third of my men at Khorstron tonight, killed and wounded. I'll have to wait to see what kind of force I can put together."
"You should have Whiplashed the guards at the strongpoint after you got Caine out," Galway said.
"Oh, I did," Shaw assured him. "That should help." He looked at Lathe. "Did you deliver your message?"
Lathe nodded. "We found the half circle hiding in their lounge, behind about a dozen warriors. Between them and the Denver Security people Skyler should have talked to tonight, I think the high command will take the suggestion seriously."
"If they don't, we're in for a long, hard battle," Shaw warned.
"But at least it's a battle we know we'll ultimately win," Lathe said. "It's amazing what a difference hope can make in a person."
Galway's eyes drifted upward to the stars overhead. Hope. For most of his professional life, he reflected, all he'd ever hoped for for the people of Plinry was a little safety, a little security, and a fighting chance to live out their lives without unnecessary interference from their alien conquerors. He'd schemed and argued and fought to provide them that chance, straining against the small degrees of latitude his loyaltyconditioning provided in order to do so. He would have done anything he could toward that end, up to and including sacrificing Lathe and the other blackcollars if that was what it took.
It was only in the past twenty-four hours, when the loyalty-conditioning had been stripped away from his mind, that he recognized how low his goals had actually been.
He'd had his own small taste of freedom. Now, he had the chance to help bring that same gift to his people.
Someone was calling his name. "Sorry?" he said, lowering his eyes back to the others.
"I asked if you wanted to get some rest," Shaw said. "Maybe have your hand and face looked at. I have someone ready to take you to a safe house."
Galway snorted. "Rest? Now? You've got to be kidding. With all the chaos still going on at Khorstron, we have a golden opportunity to hit the government center before they can get themselves reorganized. I can let you inside—"
"Whoa," Shaw said, frowning as he held up a hand. "How are you going to do that? Haberdae knows you got us into Khorstron, doesn't he?"
"Sure," Galway said. "But he's the only one who does. Why couldn't it have been him who betrayed the base instead of me, with him having been left tied up to confuse everyone? It's exactly the sort of thing Lathe would do." He looked at Lathe. "Comsquare? There must be a way to pull this off."
Lathe was staring into space, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips. "I think there probably is," he agreed. "Okay, Galway. Let's try this ..."
EPILOGUE
The blackened pieces of burned wood crunched beneath Caine's feet as he walked through the blockwide path of destruction that had been cut across the city of Capstone. "They did this on their way out?" he asked, a shiver running through him as he looked around at the still-smoldering ruins that had once been homes and business
es.
"Yes," Lathe said, an edge of contempt in his voice. "Apparently the Ryq commanding the troop carriers' escort decided Plinry in general and Galway in particular needed a parting lesson in what it costs to cross the mighty Ryqril. Or something like that."
"As if any of these people had anything to do with that," Caine growled. "If they wanted to send messages, they should have hit Hamner Lodge instead."
"I'm sure they would have if there'd been any actual military reason to it," Lathe agreed. "But as I said, it was nothing but a final symbolic slap in the face." He gestured around them. "Fortunately, De Vries anticipated they might do something like this on their way out, and he and Haven were able to figure the likely target zone from their probable lift vector. He got emergency gear in place and was able to slip a lot of the residents out before the attack came. We could have lost a thousand or more, but we actually only lost twenty."
Caine sighed. "That's still twenty civilian deaths too many."
"Agreed," Lathe said. "Let's hope they're the last. Anyway, he's got a bunch of the refugees temporarily settled in the tube between the city and Hamner. That's where Galway disappeared to, by the way—
Haven took him up there to assess the situation."
Caine looked up at the Greenheart Mountains rising majestically into the sky. "You really think they're gone for good?"
Lathe shrugged. "The logic of the situation is certainly unarguable," he said. "Their only choices are total war against humanity—which they can't afford with the Chryselli breathing down their necks—or a slow, bloody, fighting withdrawal—ditto—or accepting the TDE-in-chaos scenario Skyler and I pitched them. And of course, wrecking all their TDE armaments factories on their way out was a fairly significant bridge-burning move all by itself. No, I think they really have decided that option three was their best bet."
"Unless they've just pulled back to regroup."
"That would be the worst choice of all," Lathe said grimly. "Because I think we're going to bounce back a lot faster than the Ryqril expect. Now that they've left, if they try to come in again they'll lose big time."
