by Timothy Zahn
Settling back, he turned his full attention to the satellite view. And tried to ignore the vague tightness in his gut.
Chapter 10
The road into the mountains was as twisted as the one the previous night had been, but at least Pittman got to drive it in full daylight. Traffic, though still heavier than the average Plinry driver would be used to, was greatly reduced from its city levels, with seldom more than one other car or truck visible at any given moment. Except for the occasional short tunnels, with their oddly unnerving pitch-darkness, Caine found himself almost relaxing as they wove in and out of the mountains toward the spot he'd chosen for their jump-off point.
They reached it about half an hour after leaving Denver: a wide part of the road with a small stream lapping through a rocky creekbed alongside the pavement. Past the stream to the south, foothill-sized mountains rose again.
"But you can see what looks like a smaller creek feeding into this one from between the hills," Caine told the others, tracing it on the aerial map. "We should be able to backtrack it to about here, then head straight south and get a good look at the Aegis Mountain entrance from this ridge."
"Risky," Braune said doubtfully. "If the settlement there belongs to either Ryqril or Security they won't take kindly to visitors."
"Which is why we watch out for sensors and tripwires and whatever," Caine said. "Remember, the ridge is over a klick away from the settlement—chances are good Security won't have any real antipersonnel stuff at that distance."
"The Ryqril might," Colvin pointed out. "If it's within line of sight, they watch it."
"So we keep our heads down," Pittman said impatiently. "Come on—the afternoon's getting away from us. If we're going to go, let's go."
Caine nodded. "Right. Pittman, get the car started while we move the emergency packs across the stream. Drive over there, behind those bushes, and we'll put a camouflage net over it."
The operation took five minutes. Five minutes after that they were out of sight of the road, walking single-file along the creekbed Caine had chosen.
Considering what the terrain had looked like from the road, the trek was surprisingly easy. The creek was clearly of the intermittent type; just as clearly, it was at one of its low points. For a meter or more on either side the gurgling water was bordered by wide, flat stones which offered sure footing without any of the surprises the patches of grass beyond them might have hidden. Beyond the grasses the tall, thin pine trees began, their dead lower branches mute testimony to the precarious hold the flora had in these relatively dry hills, and more than once Caine thought about the millions of people living bare kilometers away in Denver and the tremendous feat it must be to supply enough water for such a metropolis. Directly above them, the sky was an incredibly deep blue.
Beautiful but potentially lethal: if Security had spotter aircraft monitoring this approach to Aegis Mountain, their view downward would be equally good.
But for the first kilometer, anyway, no one came blasting out of the sky at them. In fact, as far as the evidence of their eyes could prove, they might easily have been on a completely uncharted planet.
It was at the end of the kilometer that they reached the iron gate straddling the streambed.
"I'd say offhand we now know their attitude toward company over there," Colvin said tightly as Caine and Alamzad examined the rusty metal.
"I don't think this is something Security put up," Alamzad disagreed, touching the mesh gingerly.
"Looks pretty old, and it hasn't been maintained very well. No sensors I can find, either."
Caine looked up at the slopes angling down to the stream. "Just a simple barbed-wire fence leading off from it, too. Probably somebody's old estate line, with the fence to discourage hikers. Maybe even dates to before the war."
"It's not that old." Alamzad shook his head. "Ten to twenty years at the most, I'd guess."
Which meant someone could conceivably still be living in the area. Caine took a quick three-sixty of the area, wondering with a twinge of uneasiness whether they were being watched. "If anyone challenges us, we're hikers out for an afternoon's walk," he instructed the others. "Try to keep your shirts fastened all the way up so the flexarmor doesn't show, and keep all weapons out of sight unless absolutely necessary. Clear?"
There were muttered assents. "Up and over?" Colvin asked, nodding at the gate.
"We'll go upslope a ways instead and go over the fence." Caine pointed, glancing at the blue sky overhead. "It's about time to head overland anyway... and suddenly I don't care much for this open creekbed."
It wasn't nearly as easy as it had looked. The slopes bordering the creek seemed to be composed mainly of loose soil and looser rock, and climbing them was an awkward and noisy operation. The trees dotting the region, far from being a help, were actually much more of a hindrance, and Alamzad narrowly escaped a bad fall when he snatched at one of the dead lower branches for support and had it snap off in his hand.
But again luck was with them, and they made it up to the first ridge without either injury or—as far as they could tell—attracting any unwanted attention. Caine hoped that kind of luck would hold out; he'd seldom seen terrain that combined such high travel difficulty with such low combat cover. If it came to a fight, their hidden flexarmor was almost literally all the protection they would have.
The continued on up. Fortunately, with the first ridge behind them the slopes became gentle enough to be handled without any serious risk of falling. The computer-generated contour lines superimposed on his map, Caine quickly discovered, couldn't be taken too literally, and after traversing a couple of rough patches unnecessarily he gave up and reordered the team from vertical to horizontal formation. Spread twenty meters apart across the hill, staying in contact via tingler, they were able to find the easiest routes upward more quickly.
An hour after leaving the road, they were there.
The final hill wasn't much more than a gentle hump on the surrounding terrain, and they took it in a cautious crawl with senses alert for guards and alarms. As with the rest of the trip, though, they made it through apparently undetected; and as they reached the hilltop, Caine raised his head cautiously and peered through the grass and trees at the Ryqril base below.
There was, unfortunately, no question at all of the ownership. Ryqril design permeated the place: the not-quite-geodesic-dome construction of both the main buildings and the smaller barracks units; the spindly sensor tower with its gently rotating metal/power-detector dishes; and above all the heavy black laser cannons mounted at the corners of the camp's perimeter, line-of-sight death for anything the detectors chose to label as a threat.
A dry lump settled into Caine's throat as he thought about that. Easing his head back down out of line-of-sight range, he gestured the others to take a look. They did so, in equally cautious turn. Then, huddling closely together against the still existing danger of sound sensors, they discussed the situation.
"So much for the direct approach," Colvin whispered with a grimace. "You suppose the town a few klicks west is theirs, too?"
"Has to be," Pittman said. "That base down there can't hold more than fifty to a hundred Ryqril, and they'd want at least three times that many to keep an eye on a city the size of Denver."
"And this isn't nearly secure enough for a full-fledged Ryqril enclave, anyway," Braune put in.
Alamzad snorted gently, but nodded. "Four multigig autolasers would sure as hell make me feel secure—yeah, yeah, I know how they are."
"Paranoids," Braune murmured. "All of Aegis Mountain to protect them, and they need lasers too."
Caine shook his head. "They're not in Aegis," he said. "At least not in the base proper."
Braune frowned at him. "What do you mean? The outer door is gone—you can see that from here."
"The outer door wouldn't have been that hard to crack," Caine told him. "It's the barriers farther in that would give them trouble. But look at the placement of the lasers down there—they're se
t up to defend the encampment, not the tunnel entrance. Ergo, they haven't got anything to speak of in the tunnel itself."
Alamzad eased up for a second look. "You're right," he agreed, settling back into the group. "Which means what we've got here is nothing more than a task force trying to get into Aegis without destroying it."
"Wonder why they're bothering," Colvin murmured. "Their technology level is essentially the same as ours."
"Probably better—they won the war, after all," was Braune's dry rejoinder. "Maybe there's something specific in there they want."
"Why not? There's apparently something in there we want," Pittman added, cocking an eyebrow at Caine.
"Yes, well, I think we've seen enough," Caine said, evading the other's unvoiced question. A
kilometer from a Ryqril base was no place to discuss their mission. "We know the Ryqril haven't gotten in the front door, and that we're not going to. Let's see if we can round it out as a perfect day by getting out of here without being caught."
The first hundred meters back down the hill were the most nerve-racking—more so than even the approach had been, as the thought of those lasers below added an extra dollop of caution to their crawling technique. But again, they might have been forest deer for all the notice they attracted, and within a few minutes they were heading back down the slopes toward the stream and their car.
The return trip took longer than the approach had. The inexact contours on the map and Caine's attempts to find an easier route conspired to shift them farther to the east than he'd intended, and by the time he realized his error they were already committed to what was becoming a very tricky slope indeed.
"Any idea where we are?" Pittman asked as they began working their way through a patch of small cacti around a steep-sided bluff.
"The road should be that way," Alamzad said before Caine could answer. "No real way we can miss it—it cuts directly across our path. The real question is how far we are from where we left the car."
"Not far at all," Caine told them, tapping the map. "If I'm right, the road is right around the bluff here—"
"And about four hundred meters down?" Colvin put in dryly.
"Something like that," Caine admitted. "But we'll come down right at the mouth of the creek we followed on our way up, if that makes you feel better."
"Shh!" Braune hissed suddenly. "I hear another car."
Not just another car, Caine realized as they all strained their ears, but another car on the stones beside the road... on the stones, and coasting to a halt.
There was no need for orders. Simultaneously, all five spread apart on the steep hillside into a loose stalking pattern, pulling sniper's slingshots from their packs as they did so. Whoever was down there, they'd found the team's car.
—
Five minutes of cautious movement brought them within sight of the scene, and if it wasn't as bad as Caine had feared, it was bad enough. A second car was pulled up to the bushes a dozen meters behind theirs, and three men were busy stripping off the camouflage netting. A fourth man was walking guard around the area, a compact machine pistol of some kind cradled in his arms.
Flechettes or slugs, probably, but either way clearly not one of Security's standard snub-nosed laser rifles. Whoever the intruders were, at least they weren't Security.
The team continued down the mountain, Braune and Pittman in the lead giving information on path and cover to the others via tingler. Below, the intruders had gotten the net off and began a thorough examination of their find. The supplies in the trunk seemed to surprise them, and there were a couple of intense discussions followed by uneasy glances at the surrounding hills. That was fine with Caine; the longer they took to make up their minds as to what they'd stumbled on, the better his chances of making sure they didn't keep it.
The intruders apparently had the same thought, and it took them only a couple of minutes to decide to take their new acquisition and run. But even as one of them twisted pretzel-fashion under the control panel and began the task of bypassing the starter lock, Caine's men reached position, and with only a few seconds' worth of rustling brush to warn them, the strangers were suddenly faced with a backpack-laden hiker strolling into sight.
"Hold it!" the man with the machine pistol snapped, swinging the weapon around to cover the newcomer. "What do you want?"
Caine froze, letting his mouth fall open with apparent shock. "Hey—take it easy, huh?"
One of the others stepped forward. "This your car?" he asked, gesturing toward it.
"No, hell no." Caine shook his head vigorously. "No, I'm just out for a hike. Uh—meeting someone upstream a ways in half an hour.
"Sure you are." The second man glanced back at the two by the car, who'd halted their own activities at Caine's approach. "Move our stuff to his car—it'll be better for the drop. Let's have the keys," he added, turning back to Caine.
"The keys? But I told you, it's not mine."
The other snorted with disgust and strode forward. Stepping behind Caine, he pulled off the backpack—
And with a crack like a stick on a ripe melon, the man with the machine pistol toppled backward, his weapon flying into the grass behind him.
The two at the car gaped... and Caine took a half-step backward to drive his elbow into his frisker's stomach. Two more punches and a kick and the other fell and curled around himself to the ground.
"Don't try it," Caine advised the others, turning back to them. One did anyway; he collapsed from a second slingshot bull's-eye halfway to the machine pistol. "I warned you," Caine said, retrieving the weapon himself and waving it toward the last man. "Now, suppose you tell me just who the hell you are and what you wanted with—"
He broke off as his tingler abruptly signaled: Car approaching from west. He took a step to the side to get a better look—just in time to see the car skid onto the stones beside the road and discharge a half-dozen uniformed Security men. It was so unexpected that Caine was caught completely flatfooted. But his opponent wasn't. "He tried to steal my car!" he shouted to them, jabbing a finger at Caine... and the laser rifles swung up in response.
There was only one thing Caine could do, and he did it without hesitation. The gun in his hands was surprisingly noisy as it drained its clip in the Security men's general direction, scattering them as they dove for the ground. Laser bursts filled the air; dropping the gun, Caine sprinted back toward the mountains and the limited cover of the bushes on the lower slopes. There was a shout from behind him, and a new series of shots scorched at his shirt as he hit the ground and turned around.
The Security men were on their feet again. Or rather, four of the six were, and as Caine watched, two of the four flipped over backward as the snipers on the hillside found them.
Abruptly, the landscape in front of Caine's eyes exploded with light. Twisting around, Caine tucked his head to his chest, letting his back take the brunt of the attack. A shot found him, painfully hot even through the flexarmor—a second brushed his leg—and abruptly, the attack ceased.
Cautiously, he raised his head again. The Security men had joined their companions on the ground—alive or dead, he couldn't tell. Behind him, he could hear the crashing of bushes and tree branches as the rest of his team abandoned stealth for speed. And at their car—
Caine ducked involuntarily as, with a sleet of thrown gravel, their car spun around and raced for the road. "Damn!" he spat, jumping to his feet and hurling a shuriken toward the nearest tire with all the power he could muster. But the clouds of dust and wild fishtailing worked against him, and over the noise he heard a thunk as the star hit somewhere in the car's bodywork.
"What the hell?" Pittman panted from behind him.
"I guess he was farther along at getting it started than I thought," Caine said grimly. All their supplies, everything but the emergency packs they had with them—all of it gone. Damn! "Come on," he said as the others came up, "let's get moving. If Security doesn't have reinforcements already on the way, they will soon."
"Which car do we take?" Braune asked, already moving to obey.
"Both," Caine told him. "You and me in the Security car, everyone else in the other. Pittman, you drive. And you go first—we may need to pretend that we're chasing you."
Both sets of keys were in the appropriate starter locks, and half a minute later they were roaring down the road back toward Denver. "What do we do if Security sends more cars or aircraft against us?" Braune asked, his voice studiously casual. "It's a fair distance back to Denver."
"True." Caine's lips felt dry. "But remember that they've presumably got some distance to come, too.
The guys in this car were probably just patrolling and happened upon a suspicious group near—"
A blare from the car's radio interrupted them. "Car Em-Jay Forty-six, what is your mark-fourteen?
Repeat, your mark-fourteen?"
"What the hell is a mark-fourteen?" Braune muttered.
"I don't know," Caine shot back. "Situation code, probably." Gritting his teeth, he pulled the slender microphone from its clip. "Car Em-Jay Forty-six," he said, hoping the noise of tires on pavement would disguise his voice enough to get by. "Tailing possible smuggling suspects east on one-onenine.
Request all units stay clear of area to avoid spooking them."
A new voice came on the line. "Do you require air backup, Em-Jay Forty-six?"
"Negative," Caine said.
"What happened with the mark-twenty-one?"
The confrontation by the road? "No problems," Caine said, feeling sweat gathering on his forehead.
The longer this conversation went on, the better the chance he'd say something so far out of normal parlance that they'd tumble to the charade.
"Okay. Mark-four, Em-Jay Forty-six. Stay on it."
"Smugglers?" Braune asked as Caine replaced the mike.
