Knights Of The Black Earth

by Margaret Weis

  "So we drop out of the skies and go looking for a giant microwave," Tycho's translator squawked. "What then?"

  Xris shrugged. "I can't say. Sorry, guys. I 'know you're used to having it all laid out in advance, but there are too damn many variables here."

  "Including the fact that the good guys are going to be shooting at us, thinking we're the bad guys," Jamil grumbled.

  Xris had no reply to that.

  "Hell of a way to run an outfit." Jamil continued his bitching. "And speaking of getting shot at, I've checked out the so-called armored vehicle." He glared at Rowan. "I thought you said it was a PVC-48 Devastator." "I did. At least, that's what the computer files indicate." "Well, the computer made a mistake." Jamil was grim. "It's a PVC-28, and this must be the first one they ever built. That tank's older than I am. I trained on one! They must have been hanling it to a museum."

  "Probably fixing the tank up for some special mission," Rowan suggested. "Maybe inside Corasia, behind enemy lines. The Army doesn't like sending new armored vehicles onto enemy-held planets, in case the Corasians capture the tanks and learn from the new technology."

  "What's the tank's condition?" Xris asked, unperturbed. A former Army major, Jamil could have been given the very latest in technological wonders and would still have complained about it for days.

  "Not bad," Jamil conceded grnmpily. "If you don't count the fact that something's leaking all over the deck, probably because the tank's engine hasn't been tuned up since the fall of the monarchy twenty some-odd years ago. The engine is a solid-fuel job, they get clogged up real easy. Which is why no one's using solid-fuel engines anymore, not even the Corasians.

  "The Devastator--and I use the term loosely---does have a forty-thousand-bhp engine driving the tracks and blower motors for hover operations. But the air-cushioning unit has been shot to pieces. The tracks are caked with some sort of gunk that's been left to harden and might come off if we took a thurmaplasma torch to it."

  Jamil paused to draw breath. "Now for the good news. The tank's gun is in great shape--a seven-cm particle cannon."

  "That is good." Xris nodded.

  "Yeah. The bad news is we can't fire it. But it sure will look impressive. The power link from the gun to the engine is completely rotted away. Or maybe mice ate it. The magnetic repeller shields seem to be working, though." Jamil appeared almost disappointed. "And the armor's intact. At least anyone shooting at us will have a tough time penetrating our defenses."

  "The tank sounds good enough for our purposes. Have Doc give you a hand with the wiring. We're going to need that gun. Now, anyone got any questions?" Several hands went up.

  Xris amended. "That I can answer."

  All but one hand went down.

  "Yes, Raoul?" Xris sighed.

  "I am uncertain what to wear. These daytime affairs are so difficult. It is a formal occasion, but one feels such an ass wearing black-tie before moonrise. I was wondering if you thought it would be correct for me to don my--"

  "Raoul"--Xris attempted several times to interrupt, finally succeeded--"this is immaterial. You didn't bring any clothes."

  Raoul cast a glance from lowered eyelids at the Little One. The single eye visible beneath the fedora winked at him.

  Xris recalled the altercation he and the empath had had over the suitcase. He glanced around, half expecting to see it.

  "Actually, I did," Raoul murmured, cheeks flushed. "Or rather, the Little One acted in my behalf. The box you assume contains medical supplies ..."

  "What?" Quong yelped. "My medical kit! You brought clothes instead?"

  The Doc was on his feet. Yanking open the metal box-painted white with a red cross and marked MEDI-KIT-Quong stared, dumbfounded, at, among other items of apparel, a mass of red silk petticoat and a pink feather boa, which slithered out of the box like a long-incarcerated snake.

  "Why do we need medical supplies? We hardly any of us ever get sick." Raoul was defensive.

  "I think one of us is about to," Xris commented, grinning, and followed Jamil to check out the PVC.

  An hour later, Xris came up to the bridge. He found Rowan alone, seated at the computer.

  "Harry wanted to get something to eat. I told him I'd keep watch." She barely glanced at him; her voice was cool, impersonal. "How'd it go with the armored vehicle?"

  Xris sat down, fished a twist out of his pocket. "It may hold together long enough to get the job done. Or it may blow up with all of us inside."

  Having said that, he sat in silence. Rowan refused to look at him. "What's eating you?" he asked finally.

  She stopped working. Her hands rested on the keyboard. Suddenly she turned, faced him. "Damn it, Xris, why--"

  She stopped, swallowed.

  "Why what?" he asked, perplexed.

  "Oh, nothing. Never mind." She had turned away from him again, began moodily tapping at a key on the console. "You know the king personally, don't you? I remember watching you in the vids during the ceremonies. It gave me a strange feeling, seeing you like that. What's he like?"

  I wonder, Xris thought, staring at Rowan, what you started to say. Aloud, he answered, "Yeah, I know King Dion. What's he like? That's hard to answer. Someone--I forget who--described him as a comet. He's ice and fire and you get burned if you get too close. But once you meet him, you can't forget him. He captures you and you get pulled along behind. I never told anyone this before," Xris added casually, watching Rowan, "but I saw him perform a miracle."

  Rowan glanced up at him. "Really?"

  "Cross my heart--or maybe I should say battery pack. Anyway, it was when I was working for Lady Maigrey, helping His Majesty escape from the Corasians--among others. One of Dion's friends--a man called Tusk--was with Dion. Tusk got shot up pretty bad. Belly wound, sucking chest wound. About as critical as I've seen. Anyway, I managed to rescue him, get him back on board his own spaceplane.

  "His wife was there. Great gal. Name's Nola. She was a soldier. She knew how badly Tusk was hurt. I had a dose--a hefty dose---of painkiller. Enough to kill the pain in this world, ease him into the next. I was going to use it, when Dion boarded the spaceplane.

  "Nola asked him to save her husband. Hell, I thought she was crazy with grief, but no. And what I saw next, I'm still not sure I believe. Dion took hold of Tusk's hands and he started talking to him, real soft, and... and Tusk got better."

  Rowan was looking at him oddly.

  "What do you mean?" she asked finally. "Tusk 'got better.' Did his wounds heal that instant?"

  "No." Xris shook his head. "It wasn't a change you could see. It was more of a change you could feel. All I know is that Tusk lived when he should have died. And Dion Starfire was the man who did it. That's what he's like." "Why are you telling me this, Xris?"

  "I don't know. Maybe because I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Maybe because his wife reminded me of my wife. Maybe because I always wondered if Tusk felt the same way about being healed that I sometimes feel. That it might have been better to have died."

  Rowan lowered her head. Her hand on the keyboard clenched into a tight fist.

  "What is it you're not telling me?" Xris asked.

  "Not now, Xris," she murmured. "Not now."

  He hung around for a while, but Rowan didn't say anything more. She went back to the computer, went back inside her machine. Finally he left, climbed back down into the launch module to see if he could help Quong and Jamil fix the PVC.

  Either that or help Raoul decide between the red silk or the gold outfit with the sequins.

  Twelve hours to go.

  CHAPTER 35

  A skillful military operation should be like a swift snake that counters with its tail when someone strikes at the head, counters with its head when someone strikes at its tail, and counters with both head and tail when someone strikes at its middle.

  Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  The drop ship, intruder shields up, entered into orbit around Ceres, slid silently and invisibly into place amidst the space
traffic. They were thankful for the shields. Numerous Royal Naval vessels were in the vicinity and, though Operation Macbeth was still in effect, the sight of a special force ship dropping by--"No pun intended," Quong had chortled--the king's ceremony might have been enough to make a destroyer's captain seriously consider disobeying orders and opening up communications--or the big guns.

  "We're over the drop site," Harry reported, studying his instruments. "Right on target. We should land about a kilometer from the temple. That should let us pick up the signal from the negative wave device, find it, destroy it."

  "I'm entering the signature in the launch module's computers," Rowan added, heading below. "I'm going down to make final transfer now." "Good. Very good."

  All was going well. About time, too.

  Xris took a final glance at the other ships of the Royal Fleet silently maintaining their positions. All of them watching, wary, mistrustful. But none of them was actively looking for him.

  "Operation Macbeth's been a pain up to now," he remarked to the rest of the team, who had gathered in the launch module below. "It's about time it worked for us for a change."

  "Don't say such a thing, my friend!" Quong remonstrated, looking grave. "You will jinx us."

  "Doc, you're a scientist. You know there's no such thing as a jinx." Jamil winked, grinned at the others. This was a long-standing joke.

  Quong shook his head. "I know that it is not wise to flaunt good fortune. It is said that the gods never like to see mortal man too happy. It gives him delusions of godhood and so they are always tempted to strike him down. Hubris, the Greeks called it." "Hubris. I smoked some of that once," Raoul remarked. Jamil laughed loudly. Quong frowned, offended. Xris opened his mouth, prepared to say something to avert a quarrel.

  Harry, above on the bridge of the command module, said it for him. "Oh, shit!"

  Xris scrambled awkwardly back up the ladder. "What? What's the matter?"

  Harry pointed at a flashing red light on his console as he might have pointed at a poisonous snake. "Someone out there's spotted us."

  "That's not possible. We've got the damn intruder shields up. How did they find us?"

  "They must be scanning the area, probably on account of the king being here. I thought I heard something ping against--"

  "Rowan, get up here!" Xris called down below.

  "They found us! Maybe Doc's got a point about that jinx," Tycho observed.

  "Balls!" Jamil sounded angry. "The only jinx we have on board is the Doc talking about jinxes!"

  Rowan pulled herself up the ladder onto the deck. "What's wrong?"

  The commlink spoke in answer.

  "Navy Lima Sierra Tango Two Zero Niner. This is Ceres Military District Command, relayed through the dreadnought Jeanne d'Arc. Operation Macbeth is ended. I say again: Operation Macbeth is ended. Stand-down code is Rubicon Three Five Hadrian Niner Alpha Two. Prepare to issue your stand-down code in two Standard Military minutes. I say again: Prepare to issue your stand-down code in two Standard Military minutes. Jeanne d'Arc out."

  "What's our stand-down code?" Xris looked at Rowan.

  She bit her lip. "Beats me."

  He glared at her. "Hell, you probably wrote the damn thing."

  "I probably did." She was unperturbed. "But each ship has its own code. It's given to every captain along with his sealed orders."

  "Would he enter it into the computer?"

  Rowan shrugged. She was already seated at the keyboard. "Captains aren't supposed to. Some do, of course. The sealed orders are required to be kept in a vault in the captain's quarters. But," she added, as Xris was already headed in that direction, "he would have undoubtedly taken them with him when he left the ship to be overhauled."

  Of course. That was only logical. Still, they might get lucky. The captain might be either forgetful or an idiot.

  Entering the tiny, cramped room that was the captain's quarters, Xris was already mentally preparing the plastic explosives, only to find the vault standing wide open. Halfheartedly, he peered inside.

  He hit the comm. "What the devil am I looking for?"

  "Is it there?" Rowan sounded amazed.

  "No, I don't think so." He searched for a scrap of paper, anything. "But tell me anyway."

  "Well, it would be a series of digits and numbers, arranged in what would appear a random pattern. They're not, of course. The way it works is that the command vessel of this fleet gets its own stand-down from the admiralty, then they work through each ship in the fleet. They issue a single cipher and each individual ship completes that cipher with one that is uniquely its own." "Huh?"

  That was Harry, but Xris could have echoed his pilot. The cyborg stuck his hand inside the vault, groped about in the shadows.

  "As an example"--Rowan was in lecture mode--"as commander, the code word I would issue to every ship in the fleet might be 'Raoul.' The correct response for one ship is 'Loti.' For another it would be 'Adonian.' For a third, 'the Little One.' Naturally, it's far more complex than that."

  "Naturally," Xris muttered on his way back to the bridge.

  No need to ask what would happen when they couldn't return the code. "We'll be ordered to shut down our engines. The tractor beam will lock on to us, drag us ignominiously onto that dreadnought. Any attempt to flee and we'll be blown out of the stars. And fleeing isn't going to save the king."

  Of course--the thought came to him--being taken prisoner wouM give us a chance to talk to someone, warn them about the danger ....

  Once we are tractored on board. Xris went over it all in his mind. Once the commander makes certain our ship is secure, isn't going to try to escape. Once the guards have boarded and made us all prisoners. Once we have given our names and voice prints and hand prints. Once the sergeant tums our request over to the lieutenant, who might or might not see fit to mention it to the captain, who would have to get it approved through channels ... "Fuck it!"

  Xris arrived back on the bridge. "How much time ..." He paused. "What are you doing? Have you found it?"

  "I didn't look." Rowan was wearing that smug, selfsatisfied smile that always sent a tingle up Xris's spine. She was on to something. "The codes are all in my files back at RFComSec."

  "They would have shut those down--"

  "The front door," she answered, her hands busy on the keyboard, her eyes scanning each screen as it flashed past. "They shut the front door. Not the back. There!" She glowed with pleasure and triumph. "I'm in! Now ... ship's name." She was talking to herself as she entered the information. "Registration number. Come on. Come on."

  Lines of type flashed past in a blur. Suddenly the scrolling stopped. A white bar began to flash.

  "This is it!" Rowan hit a key, laughed, jubilant. "You have it on your computer now, Harry! Give them that when they ask for it!"

  She was inside the machine. Xris recalled the old days. Why hadn't he ever noticed? Dalin Rowan had never come alive except when he was hooked up to that machine.

  A lot alike. Xris flexed his mechanical hand. A lot alike ...

  "Dear GOd!" Rowan was on her feet and moving away from the computer as if it were a bomb, ready to explode. "Oh, dear God?

  "They accepted our stand-down code," Harry announced.

  Xris was at Rowan's side. "Now what?"

  "A trap." She was white to the lips. "It was a trap. They've put the worm on me."

  The worm. A computer trace that had latched on to Rowan's transmission and would race like a heat-seeking cybermissile through the convoluted paths of cyberspace until it found her.

  "Shut it down!" Xris urged.

  Rowan appeared to be in shock. She stared at the computer as if it had physically assaulted her. A blow from a trusted friend, a lover ... "Shut the damn thing down!" Xris repeated, shaking her. Rowan blinked, sprang suddenly back to the computer. Feverishly, she issued verbal commands. When that didn't work, she struck keys. At length, she struck the keyboard.

  "Harry, cut the juice!" Xris commanded. Harry spread his l
arge hands, helpless. "I can't, Xris." "We'd lose everything," Rowan said in a shaking voice. "Engines. Life-support. Everything. I used the central computer. I didn't think-- There." She fell silent.

  Nothing happened onscreen that Xris could see; he'd had wild visions of a blinding flare of glaring white light. But apparently Rowan could read the signs. "They have me."

  Only minutes, perhaps, before the word went out. Glancing at the viewscreen, Xris saw the destroyer suddenly begin to come about. It might be coincidence ....

  "Rowan, get down below. Harry, set the controls to release the launch module. Now! Let's go."

  Rowan cast Xris a look--an apology, pleading, he didn't know. He didn't have time to care. Taking her gently but rarely by the ann, he guided her down into the launch module.

  "Launch release set," Harry reported.

  "You're next. Down the hatch."

  Harry climbed down. Xris was up above, his hand on the airlock controls, set to seal off the launch module from the command module. Harry was halfway down when a thought struck him. Xris had been wondering how long it would take the big man to figure things out.

  "Uh, Xris." Harry halted in mid-descent, peered back up. "If I go... and you go... who's left to pilot the command module, bring us all back up?"

  "No one," Xris said grimly.

  Harry shook his head, slowly assimilating. "But that will mean--"

  "Damn it, I know what it will mean! Get your ass down there!"

  Xris took one last look through the viewscreen. The dreadnought was most definitely headed in their direction. A red light was flashing on the console. Xris didn't wait to hear what they had to say. It could all be perfectly innocent.

  "Yeah. And I'm going to model nude for the cover of Celestial Bodies." Xris chomped down on a twist, bit it clean in two. Part of it fell into the launch module below.

  He shut the hatch, sealed it, slid down the ladder to land on the deck with a thud. "Time?"