The Knights of the Black Earth

by Margaret Weis; Don Perrin

  “The house is beautiful, Xris,” Rowan said, gazing around in satisfaction, appreciation. “It’s what you always dreamed of building.”

  She might have said what you and Marjorie always dreamed of building, but she didn’t, for which Xris gave her points.

  Xris motioned for Rowan to sit down. Quong fussed over his patient. The Little One perched on the very edge of the couch, his feet not touching the floor. Rowan pulled her shoes off. She yawned and, before Xris could stop himself, he was yawning, too.

  “We should all get some rest,” Quong said severely.

  “Yeah, in a little while,” Xris returned. He sat down opposite the Little One.

  Quong was frowning. “I might remind you, my friend, that— after all—this is Raoul. .. .”

  Xris gazed at Quong steadily. “He’s a member of the team, Doc. I don’t abandon a member of the team. Any member.”

  Quong lifted an eyebrow, said nothing more.

  Xris began to think of, to concentrate on Raoul.

  Immediately the Little One became animated. He clapped his small hands; the single eye visible beneath the fedora glistened.

  “Do you know where Raoul is?” Xris asked, speaking slowly and enunciating each word clearly, with no particular object in mind other than that it was what one tended to do when talking to someone who spoke a foreign tongue.

  He must have also raised his voice level, because Quong observed tersely, “He’s mute, Xris. He’s not deaf.” There was a pause. “At least, I don’t think he’s deaf.”

  The fedora bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

  “Where is Raoul?” Xris asked.

  The Little One excitedly pointed at the ceiling.

  “Upstairs?” Xris tested. “In his room?”

  The fedora shook violently. Xris breathed a sigh. At least now he knew the Little One could understand what was being said to him.

  “You mean up ... up in the sky. The stars. Space.”

  The Little One clapped his hands again, rocked back and forth excitedly on the couch.

  “Great. Just great. On average, how many inhabited star systems would you say there are?” Defeated, Xris pulled out a twist, bit down on the end.

  “Look, Xris.” Rowan touched his arm.

  The Little One was shaking his head, waving his hands.

  “Not a star system,” Xris said.

  The Little One indicated it was not.

  The other members of the team entered one by one, all of them looking worn out.

  “Nothing to report,” Jamil said, stretching and flexing his aching muscles. “We covered our tracks. Harry made sure the security cams are in place and working. The gear’s unloaded, stowed away. Any objections if I take a nap?”

  Xris shook his head.

  “I’m gonna get a beer,” Harry said. “Anyone else want one? You, ma’am? Anything I can get for you? A glass of white wine?”

  Rowan glanced at Xris, bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “No, thank you.”

  Harry wandered off to the kitchen. Jamil went upstairs. Tycho flopped his long body onto the couch, closed his eyes, and turned off his translator. His skin color gradually assumed that of warm brownish red leather.

  “Raoul’s not in space,” Xris tested again.

  The Little One waved off the assertion.

  “Raoul is in space. He’s—”

  “On a ship!” Rowan guessed.

  “He’s being held prisoner on a spaceship!” Xris felt as if he were playing charades.

  The Little One made fists of his hands, smashed them together— apparently, a sign of approbation.

  “Well, that narrows it down to a billion or so,” Quong observed helpfully.

  “Xris”—Rowan was excited—”if the Little One could give us a name, I could get into the Navy’s registry files. If the ship’s got hyperspace capability, they have to register a flight plan. If not, they’d still be fairly easy to locate. ISDS—Insterstellar Ship’s Directory System—keeps track of everything that moves through space. We know the kidnappers were on Olicien’s home planet just a day or two ago. They might have left a trail, asked for clearance for landing, gone through customs—”

  Xris shook his head. “Not likely. Probably set down in some deserted airfield, like space pirates.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Rowan argued. “On a heavily populated system like Auriga, landing at a deserted airstrip could put them a thousand kilometers away from the city. And why run the risk of attracting the wrong kind of attention? At a busy spaceport, they could easily smuggle their victim on board, offer some kind of excuse in case anyone asked. Maybe he’s been taken ill or was on the juice—anything. I’ll bet they came and left as legitimate, law-abiding citizens. And I’ll bet I can find them in the files.”

  “Except that the Navy’s probably shut you out of those files by now.”

  Rowan smiled. “This is me we’re talking about, Xris. But I do have to have the ship’s name.”

  And that proved impossible. The Little One obviously wanted to tell the name to them as much as they wanted to hear it, but he couldn’t manage to get it across. Xris began by handing the Little One a computer drawing pad and an electronic pen.

  The Little One recoiled in horror, refused to even touch them. (This was the first indication Dr. Quong had that the Tongan are terrified of modern technology.)

  Rowan tried an ordinary pad of paper and a pencil, drew a few symbols to get the idea across.

  The Little One took hold of the pencil awkwardly, wrapping his entire hand around it. He scrawled a heavy line on the paper, ripped it, then tossed both pad and pencil away in frustration.

  Harry sat down with his beer, began coming up with spaceship names. “Enterprise, Fortitude, Hercules . .

  The Little One stared at him blankly.

  Xris called a halt. “Face it. This is hopeless. We could be here for the next twenty years doing this.”

  “Maybe I could rig up some kind of computer mind-link,” Rowan suggested, thoughtful. “Empaths and telepaths usually have extremely strong electronic impulses in their brains. It might take days and it would be crude, at best, if it worked at all. I don’t know. Dr. Quong, what do you think?”

  “I think—”

  A warning Klaxon sounded, accompanied by a computerized voice. “Sensors have been tripped in grid M-l. Repeat. Sensors have been tripped in grid M-1.”

  Xris took the twist from his mouth.

  “Moose?” Harry asked, and set down the beer.

  “The sensors are set to pick up only humanoid life-forms,” Xris said calmly. He opened his leg compartment, took out his weapons hand.

  The alarms continued to sound.

  Tycho woke up, fumbled with his translator.

  Jamil came running down the stairs, clad only in his under-shorts. “What is it, Xris?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it should be on-screen. Go check it out.”

  Jamil left, heading for the security room.

  “Sensors have been tripped in grid K-1,” reported the voice. “Repeat. Sensors have been tripped in grid K-1.”

  “M-1. K-1.” Harry went into Xris’s office, stood looking at a map of the property, tracking a line with his finger. “They’re moving this way, and fast.”

  Jamil’s voice came over the comm. “The cam’s dead in grid M, Xris. It went black just when I got in here. Switching to grid K. I have ... No. That cam just went dead.”

  Xris performed a systems check on his arm. He had attached the automatic flechette-round shotgun. When you didn’t know what was coming, the shotgun was the best choice.

  “Sensors tripped in grid D-10,” reported the computer.

  Everyone, with the exception of the Little One, had gathered in Xris’s office, was huddled around the map.

  Tycho followed the line. “On this route, they’re headed for the front door.”

  “Probably a diversion. The main force is likely coming at us from the back. Jamil, you see anything?”<
br />
  “Not a damn thing! They must be crushing these cams with a TRUC!”

  “Nothing more you can learn there, obviously. Report back here. Tycho, head up to the tower.”

  The alien nodded, selected a beam rifle equipped with a sniper sight from the well-stocked arsenal, headed for the tower.

  “Sensors tripped in B-7.”

  Jamil returned, carrying two more beam rifles, one of which he tossed to Quong.

  Xris continued giving orders. “Harry, cover the back door. Doc, the east wing.”

  “Xris.” Rowan was on her feet. “What can I do?”

  “Go down the basement,” Xris said.

  “What?” Rowan stared at him.

  “Go down the blasted basement!” Xris told her. “The door’s there, off the hall.”

  Motioning to Jamil to take a far window, the cyborg moved over to a window that provided a view of the front door.

  Rowan hadn’t moved. She had a stubborn, determined look on her face that Xris knew all too well.

  He left his post. Grabbing Rowan by the arm, the cyborg pushed her forcibly toward the basement door. “The walls and door are reinforced nullgrav steel. They can withstand about anything, including a direct hit from a lascannon.”

  Xris opened the door. Rowan halted, planting her feet firmly and refusing to budge.

  “I’ll pick you up and throw you down there if I have to,” the cyborg said grimly.

  “You don’t trust me. I swear to you, Xris—”

  He cut her off. “You’re right, old friend. I don’t trust you. But that’s not the reason. I need you alive and well, Major Mohini. You’re the ticket out for my men. If anything happens to me, you tell Dixter it was between us—you and I. My men were just following orders. They had no idea what was coming down. You’ll tell Dixter that.”

  She stared at him a moment, then said, “Sure, Xris.” She entered the door, stood on the top step. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Sensors tripped in grid A-5,” said the computer.

  Xris started to leave, to shut the door. He paused, not looking at her. “You can’t ever go back. You realize that. Your cover’s blown. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—”

  What had he meant? Meant to murder her. He shook his head.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rowan said, with a slight shrug. “It doesn’t matter at all. Take care of yourself, Xris.”

  “I’m not easy to kill. As you know.”

  He shut the door.

  “Xris!” Jamil shouted. “I can see movement.”

  Tycho’s voice came over the comm. “Xris. I’ve got them in my sights. I recognize one of them. It’s ...” He paused, then said, “You’re not going to believe this.”

  Jamil lowered his rifle, grinned. “Guess who?” Xris relaxed. “Not the Royal Marines.” Jamil shook his head.

  A thundering crash nearly staved in the front door. “The neighbors, come to call.”

  Xris hurried to open the nullgrav steel door before it shattered.

  Chapter 25

  That proverbial saying, “Bad news travels fast and far.”

  Plutarch, Morals of Inquisitiveness

  A giant of a man, Olefsky not only had to duck to slide his head beneath the doorframe, he had to rotate his enormous body, and then was forced to squeeze his way through the door. When he succeeded, he shook himself in a manner similar to that of the large shaggy hunting dog that trotted at his side. His two sons followed, grinning sheepishly and bobbing their heads. “My friend! By my lungs and liver, it is good to see you again!” Bear Olefsky enfolded Xris in an embrace that completely engulfed the cyborg, squeezing the air from his body and setting off an alarm on his breathing apparatus. Releasing Xris, the Bear regarded him gravely.

  “But not perhaps under these circumstances. Have you been watching the galactic news?”

  “No,” Xris wheezed, making adjustments. “We’ve been preparing for an assault. We thought you were the Marines. Why the devil did you take out our security cams?”

  Olefsky, brow furrowed, glowered around at his two boys. The Bear towered over Xris by about a meter and the Bear’s sons— though only fourteen or fifteen—were taller and broader than their father. Both young giants held their father in mortal dread, however. At his glare, they turned extremely red and shuffled their big feet, though it was obvious they had no idea what crime they had committed.

  The Bear barked questions at them in their own language. Both boys made feeble protests. Olefsky listened in patience for a few moments, then ended the defense with a motion of his big right hand. Following this, he cuffed each boy soundly and ordered them out of the house. Hanging their heads, the boys tromped out, both of them managing to knock over several small pieces of furniture on the way. The dog, evidently thinking it was in trouble as well, cringed and licked the Bear’s hand.

  The Bear shook his head, heaved a sigh that nearly blew the Little One—who had crept up to stare at the dog—off his feet. “Ah, I must make certain that these boys of mine see more of the universe. But with fifteen sons ...” He shook his head again. “I apologize, friend Xris. These two lumbering dunderheads”—he jerked his thumb in the direction of the porch, where the two boys waited—”found one cam and thought it was the evil eye, planted on you by some sorcerer. They bashed it with a rock. As for other cams ... You said there were others?”

  Xris nodded.

  The Bear tugged at his long curly black beard. “I regret to say that they did not see any others. Neither did I. Were they located on the ground?”

  “Never mind, Bear,” Xris said, putting a twist in his mouth to keep from smiling. “No harm done.”

  Glancing outside, he could see Olefsky’s boys picking bits of bark and twigs from their animal-hide clothing. The Bear’s clothes were covered with leaves. A small branch—caught in the fur of his cape—trailed behind him. Now that he looked, Xris could detect shards of broken glass on the Bear’s leather boots.

  Fairly certain that they were no longer under attack, Xris called Harry and Quong back from their posts, brought Tycho down from the tower. Jamil joined them, still in his underwear. He glanced at Bear, saw the big man’s stern face and dark expression, and sighed.

  “Looks like we’re going to be awake for a while. Anyone else want coffee?”

  Rowan emerged from the basement. Her eyes widened at the sight of their guest.

  Xris performed introductions, though, he noticed, these weren’t really necessary. Rowan recognized Olefsky from the newsvids and it was obvious—from the sharp, scrutinizing gaze Bear fixed on her—that though he may not have known her, he knew something about her. Not a good sign.

  “Send me a bill for the cams,” Olefsky said, waving his hand. “What was I saying? Ah, yes. The—”

  The Little One, with a strange, inarticulate cry, suddenly hurled himself at Xris, flung his arms around the cyborg’s legs.

  “What the—” Xris stared down.

  Now that the empath had Xris’s attention, the Little One let loose his hold. He ran across the floor, raincoat flapping, and this time flung his arms around the dog’s neck, nearly dragging the large animal to the floor.

  The dog, accustomed to a household that always seemed to possess at least one toddler, took the mauling patiently, stood with its tongue hanging out, grinning.

  “We’ll get you a pet next week,” Xris said, his mind on the Bear. “Now, sir, you were saying—”

  The Little One ran back, caught hold of Xris’s pants leg, tugged on it, and pointed urgently to the dog.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Rowan suddenly, and left them abruptly, heading for Xris’s office.

  Something had clicked. Xris knew that much from the intent, introspective expression on her face. He watched her sit down in front of the computer, order it to come on, bypass his security with absentminded ease. Asking her questions now would get him exactly nowhere. She wouldn’t even hear him. She’d left this world as completely as if she’d made her own
personal jump into hyper-space. She was now inside the machine.

  The Little One abandoned the dog, trundled into the office after Rowan. He stood at her elbow, careful to make no sound, not disturbing her. Olefsky, obviously mystified, ordered the dog out of the house.

  Xris took out a twist, lit it. “Sorry about the interruption, sir. He’s fond of animals. You were saying?”

  The Bear eyed Xris narrowly and with a hint of coolness. “The galactic news. You are all over it, my friend. What are you up to?”

  Xris didn’t know quite how to answer. Bear Olefsky dressed in animal skins; his shaggy hair and beard were uncut, uncombed, unkempt. Skulls, scalps, and other less recognizable, more repugnant trophies adorned the wide belt that encircled his broad middle. He and his shieldwife lived in a castle with no central heating, no running water. His people were fierce and warlike, spent their lives cheerfully bashing each other over the head or banding together and flying off to bash other tribes in their star system over their heads.

  Olefsky was a powerful force in the galaxy, however. His people adored him. And though he preferred fighting with spear and shield, he commanded a fleet of starships that he used in defense of his systems. He was a personal friend of the king and queen and was exceptionally loyal.

  “It’s a long story, Bear,” Xris said finally, lamely.

  “I think it must be,” Olefsky rumbled.

  Rolling casually over the furniture, leaving a trail of destruction in his path, the Bear approached the large-screen vid. One room in the Olefsky castle was filled with high-tech electronic equipment, manned by two of Bear’s older (and more educated) sons. The Bear himself had as little to do with such modern horrors as he possibly could.

  “How does it work?” he demanded, reaching out a hairy hand.

  “Allow me, sir,” Quong offered hastily.

  He brought up the continuous news channel. Galactic reporter James M. Warden’s digitized, chiseled features filled the screen. After sitting through several minutes of news on the king and queen, news on the prime minster and the Parliament, followed by vid idols and a feature on the latest fashions, which made everyone present think of Raoul, the news report cycled back around to the lead-off story.