Blackcollar: The Blackcollar

by Timothy Zahn

  Fortunately, it was only a few seconds before the pod settled into a relatively stable vertical position, with air resistance providing a small but noticeable effective weight. Outside, Caine could hear the faint hiss of air whipping by, and it was all he could do to keep from reminding Skyler to watch the altitude gauge.

  The minutes dragged by Caine's weight increased steadily as the pod slowed, and he could feel the floor heating up beneath him. The air around them was getting warm, too, and the scream of their passage made conversation impossible. Gripping the straps of his harness, Caine tried to relax.

  "Stand by chute!" Skyler had to shout to be heard. "Three, two, one—"

  The first tug, as the drogue popped, was fairly gentle; the second, as the main chute snapped open, jammed Caine hard into his harness. Almost instantly the scream outside dropped to a whisper as full gravity returned. Getting his slightly trembling legs under him again, Caine took a careful breath. "Some ride," he commented.

  "You think so?" Skyler said. His face, visible in the faint light of the luminous gauges, showed no more strain than his voice did. "We're thinking of selling it to an amusement center. Okay. We're two klicks up, breakout's at one-five. Forty seconds—everyone set?"

  There were three affirmatives, and for a moment the pod was silent. "Five seconds, brace yourselves."

  Caine tightened his grip on his harness and with a jerk the pod's walls split from floor to ceiling. The floor disintegrated, and the sudden inflow of air snapped the walls up like a broken umbrella. Still fastened by the harness to his section of wall, Caine was thrown outwards as the pod fell apart in midair.

  He had time only to notice that they had come in on Argent's night side before something snapped in the wall section which now hung over his head, and, with a loud hissing of compressed air and the clicking of spring-loaded connectors, a shadowy wing unrolled and stiffened above him. Within seconds, Caine found himself lying horizontally in his harness, gliding swiftly through the cold night air.

  "Caine, you're pointed the wrong way," Skyler's voice said in his ear. "Turn about twenty degrees left."

  The plastic control bar hung just in front of him, and Caine felt a touch of trepidation as he grasped it with both hands. He'd trained with grav belts back on Earth, but they were a far cry from hang gliders. Gingerly, he pulled on the bar—

  The glider turned sharply left, and Caine got a glimpse of other dark wing shapes as he swung past the indicated direction. "Easy, easy," Skyler said. "The steering is very sensitive."

  "Read that 'touchy,' " Caine muttered. He tried again and this time came around more smoothly.

  "Good. One more tap and you should be on course."

  Caine did so and then took a moment to search the sky. "I only see two other gliders," he said. "Where is everyone?"

  "Well, I'm above and behind you," Skyler told him. "You can't expect all the pods to come down within eyeshot of each other. That's why someone always pops early, to act as spotter."

  A new voice cut in. "Skyler, this is Kwon. Hit your UV, will you? Okay, turn it off. Your group together?"

  "Affirmative," Skyler answered.

  "Okay. Shift south; you're about half a klick north of O'Hara. Lathe? Okay; you're ahead of O'Hara, so just hold course. Haven?" Pause. "Yo, Haven? Your UV?"

  "Must be broken," Haven's voice came back. "It's okay, though; I can see Skyler ahead and left of me."

  "All right," Lathe said. "Our target is a wooded area about two klicks north of a medium-sized town. It's about thirty klicks away—a bit of a stretch—but we spotted some hotspots from the ship, so hopefully we'll get some assist from thermals. Kwon'll signal via tingler if the IR shows anything promising. Strict radio silence once we're back in tight formation."

  The two gliders ahead of Caine had turned about fifteen degrees; carefully, he matched the maneuver. "Good turn," Skyler commented. "Not hard to pick up, is it?"

  "No. Uh, Skyler, what exactly are we going to do once we get to this town?"

  "Contact the local underground, of course."

  "Fine, but how do we do that? Just walk up to a local and ask for directions?"

  The blackcollar chuckled. "Not at all. It's simpler to let ourselves get captured."

  And with that the radio went silent. "Great," Caine muttered to himself, and then settled down to concentrate on his flying.

  Like black-winged wraiths the eleven gliders slid silently along between the stars and the dark landscape.

  CHAPTER 10

  The tingler on Caine's wrist gave notice that the five-hour wait was over: bait returning; plus six and two vehicles. "They're coming," he said unnecessarily, scrambling to his feet and glancing south, as if in the pre-dawn light his eyes could penetrate the forest around them.

  "Yeah, I heard," Hawking said dryly, standing up more leisurely. "You sound surprised they got out."

  "Little town or not, a jail's still a jail," Caine said. In the clearing, the other four were already collecting backpacks and moving to the shelter of the trees. Spotting Skyler, he walked over to him. "I've been wondering about something," he said quietly. "What if the guys who sprung Lathe and the others aren't the underground?"

  "Who else would they be?" Haven, walking by with two packs, put in.

  "Security forces," Caine suggested. "It would be an ideal way to infiltrate us and find out what we're up to."

  Skyler shook his head. "Interesting idea, but too devious for this stage of things—loyalty-conditioning tends to make people think in straight lines. They may try something that convoluted later, but not now."

  Caine still had his doubts, but just then his tingler came to life, signaling the party's arrival. Four of the six Argentians were accompanying Lathe's group into the woods, while the other two stayed with the vehicles. Silently, the blackcollars faded into the perimeter of the clearing. Caine chose a position behind a thick bole, where he would have a good view. Heart pounding, he settled down to wait.

  He heard them shuffling through the dead leaves underfoot a good thirty seconds before they came into sight. Peering around his tree, Caine studied the four Argentians walking in a rough semicircle behind Lathe, Valen, Kwon, and Spadafora. They were dressed identically, in loose brown jumpsuits and military-style boots, with snug mesh-masks that reduced their facial features to vague shadows. Their weapons, pellet rifles of some kind, looked well cared for and were being held in a casually ready way that indicated good training.

  Lathe, in the lead, walked to the center of the clearing and stopped by a half-rotted tree trunk. The others stopped, too, and it seemed to Caine that the rifle barrels rose just a fraction.

  "Well? Where are the guns?" one of the Argentians demanded, and Caine blinked with surprise—it was a woman's voice!

  "There aren't any, I'm afraid," Lathe said apologetically. "The gunsmuggler hints we dropped in town were really just to get your attention."

  The guns definitely rose this time. "Cute," the woman said, her voice icy. "Well, you have it. You'd better have a damn good explanation or you may wish you didn't."

  "It's quite reasonable, actually," Lathe told her. "We've just arrived on a special military mission and needed to link up with the underground. Letting ourselves be captured in a suitably out-of-the-way place where you could rescue us seemed the easiest way to do it."

  "Uh-huh. Easy, but stupid. Suppose we hadn't gotten you out?"

  "Oh, we could have escaped by ourselves," Lathe shrugged. "Can you get us in touch with whoever's in charge of your organization?"

  "Not so fast," another Argentian—a man—growled. "Li, they've got to be spies. Let's burn 'em and get the hell out of here."

  "Sit on it, Rom," the woman said. To Lathe: "He's got a good case, you know, even though this sounds stupider than some of the things they've tried to suck us in on. Let's start with your name and go on from there, shall we?"

  Lathe shrugged. "All right. I'm Comsquare Damon Lathe; Blackcollar Forces. We're on a special mission from Pli
nry with the authority of General Kratochvil of Earth. For now that's all I can say."

  There was a murmur of surprise from the other three Argentians, but neither the woman nor her weapon so much as twitched. "Offworld blackcollar, eh? Well, it's original—I'll give it that. Can you prove it?"

  "I can try," Lathe said. His hand curved—

  And three shuriken thudded into the dead tree trunk.

  Instantly, the Argentians spun around... or, rather, they tried to. But before Caine even realized they'd moved, Lathe and his companions had their rescuers' weapons. And their rescuers.

  "Excuse the rough handling," Lathe said mildly. He held the woman's rifle in one hand; with the other he maintained a negligent-looking grip on her wrist which was somehow holding her motionless. "But we don't carry ID cards."

  "Doesn't prove a thing," one of the Argentians bit out, struggling unsuccessfully against Kwon and the wrist lock that had him on his knees. "Their rads threw those things to startle us—they jumped us when our backs were turned."

  "Maybe yours was turned." Surprisingly, the woman didn't sound angry. "Mine wasn't. And those 'things' are shuriken—genuine blackcollar weapons." She nodded back toward the woods. "I'm convinced. You want to ask your rads in to join the party?"

  "Certainly," Lathe said, releasing her arm and handing back her rifle. "What are rads?"

  "Your friends," she said, accepting the weapon. Touching what was probably the safety, she slung it over her shoulder. "The guys who provided your handy little diversion."

  "Oh." Lathe gave the all-clear, and with a crunch of dead leaves Caine and the five hidden blackcollars stepped into the clearing. Caine wished he could see the expressions under those mesh-masks; combat-garbed blackcollars were an impressive sight—

  "You sure brought a mob with you," she said, eyeing them. "Is this it?"

  "We also have a spotter at the edge of the woods," Skyler said.

  "All right. The cars won't carry everyone; some of you'll have to walk." She nodded to her three companions who, unlike her, still held their rifles uncertainly at the ready. "You can take these four directly through the woods to the house. We'll take the others and their baggage in the cars."

  "But, Li, we still don't know who they are," one of the Argentians objected, gesturing toward Vale with his weapon.

  "They're blackcollars—which means they're on our side," she explained patiently. "So get moving. And I suggest you sling your rifle before he takes it away from you again."

  The man snorted, but started off into the woods, the other six men close behind. The woman nodded to Skyler. "Let's go."

  The "house" they were driven to was actually more like a woodland estate. Nestled into the far edge of the woods were a three-floor stone house, a large garage, and three or four shedlike buildings at various distances from the main building. A concealed trap door in one of the latter led to a tunnel heading in the direction of the main house. Following it, they emerged into a well-furnished subbasement. Two threadbare couches and several chairs lined the walls, and there was even a microwave cooker and a stack of sterile-pack food. Less domestic looking was the humming bug stomper sitting next to the phone. Two other tunnels and a door headed off from various walls.

  "Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," the woman said. She had pulled off the mesh-mask and Caine got his first look at her face.

  It was a great disappointment. From her voice Caine had rather expected her to be beautiful; the lovely, stormy-eyed patriot of youthful fantasies. Instead, she was about as plain-featured as she could possibly be. Her light-brown hair, cut short in a style which was easy to care for, did nothing to soften the squareness of her face, and her violet eyes seemed more tired than stormy. He felt vaguely cheated—and was instantly ashamed of his reaction. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves somewhere along in here," Skyler said. "I'm Rafe Skyler; this is Mordecai; Allen Caine; Kelly O'Hara...."

  She nodded to each as Skyler went down the list. "My name's Lianna Rhodes," she said when he had finished. "I'm more or less in charge of the Radix cell in this region."

  "Does this Radix have a central leadership?" Hawking asked.

  "Yes—the main HQ is in Calarand, Argent's capital. We've got a supposedly secure phone link to them, but I don't like to use it. If you'll write up something about this mission of yours, I'll encode it for you and we can send it by runner."

  "Fine." Skyler nodded.

  The two drivers, who'd been hiding the cars, came in as Skyler and Hawking were composing a suitable note, and Lianna pulled one aside for a brief conversation. He nodded and headed across the room, disappearing through the door there. Caine caught Lianna's eye and nodded questioningly toward it. "Leads to a storeroom," she explained. "That was Jason Ho; he'll be running your note to Calarand and needs to change clothes first. We'll get all of you some normal clothes, too," she added, eyeing his black flexarmor.

  "Perhaps we could take a look outside and upstairs first," Novak suggested. "Nothing against your security, but we like to check things out ourselves."

  "Look outside all you want," Lianna said. "But the main house is off-limits. It's owned by the local Commerce Subaltern and is loaded with anti-intruder systems."

  The air was suddenly electric. "Explain, please," Skyler said softly.

  "Oh, don't worry, nobody's up there—Navare and his people only come here during vacations. We don't come near the place then, naturally, but at other times it's safe enough as long as you avoid the main house."

  "Debatable," O'Hara rumbled. "Don't they ever wonder what happened to their subbasement?"

  "They don't know it's here—the connection was sealed off and the official blueprints altered before the war ended. Besides, who would even look for a Radix cell under a quizler's own nose?"

  "Practically no one," Skyler admitted. "Your idea?"

  For the first time Lianna dropped her eyes. "No, it was my father's. He headed this cell until... recently."

  The awkward silence was broken by the sound of footsteps, and from one of the tunnels Lathe and his group appeared, along with their Argentian escort. "Any trouble?" Lianna asked the latter.

  One of the men shook his head. "No, but we'd better get them out of here soon," he said as he and the others pulled off their mesh-masks. "A Security flier just came in from the direction of Calarand—they're not going to be happy to find their prisoners gone."

  "Pretty fast reaction," Lianna said thoughtfully. "Okay, we'll take them to the Harmon house—that should be far enough away from Janus to be outside any cordon they throw up. Jason's going to Calarand, see if HQ wants them. You about ready with that?" she added to Skyler.

  Lathe had moved to Skyler's side and was reading the note over his shoulder. "There's one other thing," the comsquare spoke up. "One of our people didn't jump with us, but rode the ship farther in. If he made it out he'll be alone and probably gone to ground. Can you get a search party out to try and find him?"

  "Put it in your note," Lianna said shortly. "We can't handle something like that from here."

  The safe house was a couple of hours' drive away, and they reached it without incident. They stayed there most of the day, catching up on food and sleep and being fitted with Argentian clothing. Hawking discovered that the cell's spare bug stamper was broken and spent most of the afternoon fixing it. For the rest of them, though, it was mostly waiting.

  Finally, around sunset, word came from Calarand via secure line that the Radix chief would meet with them. Half an hour later they were rolling down a dusty road in a loose convoy of five vehicles. Sitting in the back seat of the middle car, wedged between Mordecai and Kwon, Caine tried to doze through the long trip. He wasn't very successful. Calarand, a small voice kept whispering, was a complete unknown, full of Security forces and untested allies.

  And very likely lots of Ryqril, too.

  CHAPTER 11

  Argent's yellow-orange sun was peeking over the horizon as the convoy came in sight of Calarand. After th
e relative flatness of Capstone, Calarand's thirty- and forty-story buildings gave Caine a flash of d?j? vu back to New Geneva. But as they drove through the outskirts of the city, he saw that, like Capstone, Calarand had seen its share of war. There were no blast holes or piles of rubble, of course, but the buildings were liberally dotted with slightly mismatched patching, a few of them showing glazed areas where laser cannon had been used. Even in the relatively dim light the sight was depressing, and it sharpened Caine's already guilty awareness of how little Earth itself had suffered.

  "This section is mainly low-skill laborers and light industry," Lianna, sitting next to the driver, was saying when Caine tuned back in to the conversation in the car.

  "What sort of industry?" Kwon asked, gazing out the side window.

  "Around here, mostly textiles and small appliances. Farther in, in the Strip, there's weapon-component manufacture. The Strip's a sort of buffer zone between the government center and the outer city," she added. "You go through metal and power source detectors and usually soniscopes to get in or out, but you don't need a quizler ID card."

  "Odd setup," Kwon commented.

  She shrugged. "The weapons work fluctuates a lot, depending on Ryqril war needs. I guess they didn't want to condition a whole crowd of workers that they'd only occasionally need."

  Kwon glanced at Mordecai, and Caine could read the thought that passed between the blackcollars: a weapons plant that was only semi-restricted was practically a hand-lettered invitation for havoc.

  Pedestrians and a fair number of vehicles were on the move by the time they pulled up in front of a blocky four-floor apartment house. A hundred meters ahead, Caine caught a glimpse of Hawking's white hair disappearing into a different building. "Hey!" he said, pointing.

  "Relax, Caine; they're just using a different entrance," Lianna told him. "Come on, let's go."

  They went inside and Lianna took them down a flight of stairs to a basement apartment. The middle-aged occupant let them in and, after exchanging sign and countersign with Lianna, ushered them into a tunnel hidden behind the bedroom wardrobe. Lianna, penlight in hand, went first, and Caine counted a hundred thirty steps before they arrived at a narrow spiral staircase and started up. He estimated they were three floors above street level when Lianna pushed open a panel and led them, blinking, into a brightly lit room.