by Timothy Zahn
Neverlin looked sharply at her. "What in space are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about General Aram Davi," Alison said icily, "Founder and supreme commander of the Malison Ring. And father of one Alison Lorelei Kayna Davi."
She drew herself up. "Me."
For a long minute the entire bridge seemed to go silent. Alison looked around the room, her eyes pausing an extra fraction of a second on each of the men wearing Malison Ring uniforms. "You can prove this, of course?" Frost asked at last.
In answer, Alison dug into the sleeve of her shirt and pulled out a long white strip not much thicker than a cat's whisker. "Micro-etched, with an internal codex core for confirmation," she said, holding it out toward Frost.
Frost glanced at Neverlin, then stepped forward and took it from her. "Is that a codex-four?"
"It has a four, a five, and a six," Alison said. "Feel free to run it through the whole checklist."
"Trust me, we will," Neverlin said as Frost stepped back. "Of course, if you're telling the truth, it's all the more reason for us to make sure you disappear quietly."
"It might, if Dad was mad at you," Alison said. "Actually, he's more intrigued than angry."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning all sorts of interesting things." Alison looked significantly around the bridge. "But I think we might want a little more privacy before we discuss them."
"My office," Neverlin said. He started to point toward the door Alison had come in by, then dropped his arm. "But you already know where it is, don't you?"
"Of course," Alison said. "And maybe we can also get something to eat. Seventeen days on lifepod rations gets pretty tiresome."
"I'll have something brought in," Neverlin said. There was still a fair amount of sarcasm in his tone, she noted.
But she also noted that the sarcasm was now edged with a little caution. As well it might be. "Good," Alison said, gesturing him forward. "After you."
"Let's start with the obvious," Neverlin said when he, Frost, and Alison were seated together in his office. "How did you get aboard this ship?"
"Inside the K'da safe, of course," Alison said. "Another one you really should have figured out, given that you know I know how to open them."
"So you're working with Jack Morgan?" Neverlin asked, a hint of threat beneath his voice.
"He was a useful ally as long as our goals weren't bumping heads," Alison said. "He and that highly interesting poet-warrior friend of his."
"Who's already played havoc with our attack plan," Frost said accusingly.
"Don't look at me," Alison countered. "You were the ones who let him come in. And the ones who didn't have anything but a bunch of incompetent Brummgas standing in his way."
"You sound like another of our uninvited guests," Neverlin said.
"Who, Harper?" Alison snorted. "The man has chutzpah; I'll give him that."
"Wait a minute," Frost growled. "How do you know about Harper?"
"How do you think?" Getting up from her chair, Alison squatted down and retrieved the needle microphone from under the desk. "You really should sweep your personal areas for bugs more often," she said, setting the needle onto the desktop in front of Neverlin.
"So it was you who decoyed my men away from their posts," Frost said. "And then framed Mrishpaw for it."
Alison shrugged. "What can I say, except that Brummgas pretty much invite that sort of thing."
"I gather General Davi doesn't think much of Brummgas?" Neverlin asked.
"Do you?" Alison countered. "I certainly don't. Especially not after this last fiasco."
"The general doesn't think much of most non-humans, actually," Frost said.
"And for good reason," Alison said. "Draycos, though, is one alien he's very interested in."
"What does he want to do, recruit him?" Frost asked.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Alison said. "The K'da ability to attach themselves to humans has all sorts of interesting possibilities. But without a subject to study, the bioweapons labs aren't going to be able to coax out that secret."
"So you came to plead for the refugee fleet?" Neverlin asked.
"Hardly," Alison assured him. "All Dad wants from that part of the operation is a fair cut."
"A fair cut?" Frost demanded. "What kind of cut does he think he deserves?"
"The kind of cut due a new partner," Alison said calmly. "Especially a new partner who can free you from the burden of ever again having to rely on the Patri Chookoock and his brain-dead muscleheads. From now on, if and when you need manpower, the Malison Ring will provide it."
"If the general is feeling so accommodating, why didn't he simply direct the Driftline commandant to give us the extra ships we wanted?" Frost asked, his tone still suspicious. "It would have been considerably easier on Sergeant Chapman and his team."
"He would have if he'd known where you were planning your raid," Alison explained patiently. "This isn't exactly something you put on the Malison Ring newslist."
"That's his excuse," Neverlin spoke up. "What's yours?"
"What's my what?"
"Your excuse," Neverlin said. "You sit around quietly in a lifepod for seventeen days, and then your first word of greeting is to wreck our troop carrier?"
"I thought you or Colonel Frost might put up a fight over whether or not we try to keep Draycos alive," Alison said. "This way, the point is moot. You don't have enough spare room among the rest of your ships to accommodate that many Brummgas while you open the Foxwolf to space." She shrugged. "Besides, the carrier is probably more use to you wrecked than it is whole."
"How do you figure that?" Neverlin asked.
"I presume the plan is for you and the Foxwolf to go running to the refugee fleet as soon as it arrives, claiming the big bad wolf is behind you and pleading for protection. Am I close?"
"Go on," Neverlin said.
"So now you've got a ship with genuine damage that you can show them," Alison said. "It'll also make a good place to stash Morgan and the K'da while we deal with the rest of the fleet."
"Assuming we can coax them out of hiding," Neverlin said. "Or did you have a plan for that, too?"
"Of course I do," Alison said scornfully. "Jack and I are buddies, remember? All you have to do is have the Foxwolf put you on their intercom system and announce you've captured me. I moan a few pitiful words about being alone and scared and tortured, and he'll fall all over himself trying to rescue me."
"Oh, please," Frost said with a snort. "Even if Morgan's stupid enough to fall for that, I hardly think the K'da will."
"Of course he won't," Alison said. "But that doesn't matter. Draycos is noble to the point of practically being a cartoon figure. He'll figure that he'll be able to rescue me no matter what the odds or the situation."
"Not a chance," Frost said flatly. "He's a soldier in a war. He's not going to give up a strong, defensible position just because the enemy asks him to."
"Then he gives it up because he doesn't have any other choice," Alison said. "Because you'll also threaten to pull the Brummgas and Valahgua off and open the Foxwolf to vacuum." She shrugged. "After all, he doesn't know I wrecked the troop carrier."
Frost looked at Neverlin. "What do you think?"
"Actually, it might just work," Neverlin said thoughtfully, his eyes steady on Alison. "It may also give us a chance to kill a second bird with the one stone."
"I hope you meant that figuratively," Alison warned. "Dad wants them alive and unharmed."
"Purely a figure of speech," Neverlin assured her with a genteel smile.
There was a beep from his intercom, and he leaned forward to touch the switch. "Yes?"
"Dumbarton, sir," Dumbarton's voice came. "Ms. Davi's ID checks out."
Alison felt a quiet flicker of relief. Ms. Davi, he'd called her. And he'd said it with the proper tone of respect. So they were indeed convinced.
And everyone in the Malison Ring knew General Aram Davi's reputation for ruthlessness. If Neverlin and Frost
decided they wanted her dead, they'd now have to work over, around, or through the rest of the Malison Ring soldiers aboard to make her that way.
But if any of those thoughts were running through Neverlin's mind, they didn't show in his face. "Thank you, Sergeant," he said, and switched off the intercom.
"Well?" Alison prompted.
"We'll try it," Neverlin said. "If Morgan and the K'da take the bait, I want a proper reception ready for them. Colonel?"
"I'll make the arrangements," Frost said, starting for the door.
"One other thing first," Neverlin said, motioning for Frost to stop. "One other question."
"Yes?" Alison asked.
"What exactly did you steal from Braxton Universis?"
"Who says I stole anything?" Alison asked evenly.
Neverlin didn't reply, but merely continued to stare at her. Alison stared back a few seconds, then shrugged. "Fine," she said. "It was one of those high-tech ship tracers you used to follow the Essenay to Rho Scorvi. Dad had heard rumors, and decided he wanted one for himself."
She smiled tightly. "If we'd known you'd already made off with one of them, I wouldn't have bothered."
"They're very useful devices, aren't they?" Neverlin agreed. "At least now we know why Harper was so interested in tracking you down."
"And why I was so interested in getting away," Alison said.
"Yes," Neverlin murmured. "I gather, then, that it was you who were on Rho Scorvi with Jack Morgan." His face suddenly darkened. "You who were shooting at Colonel Frost's men."
"Colonel Frost's men were shooting at me first," Alison countered stiffly. "Besides, at that point they were technically deserters." Deliberately, she turned to Frost. "As were you, Colonel. I had a perfect right to execute any of you if the opportunity arose."
"I'm so glad we're on the same side now," Frost murmured.
"If I were you, I wouldn't be too flippant," Alison warned. "You may have heard that the commandant of the training center I was at was arrested right after I had that run at his computers. As far as Dad's concerned, you're still very much on probation."
"I'll keep that in mind," Frost said.
"Good," Alison said. "Then get busy and set up that reception we discussed."
She looked at Neverlin. "And while he attends to that," she added, "maybe we can finally get that decent meal."
CHAPTER 22
Jack had just unwrapped a ration bar when he heard a crackling sound through the deck above the crawl space where he and Draycos had taken up temporary residence. "Attention, Jack Morgan," a familiar voice called, the tone muffled by the deck. "This is Arthur Neverlin."
He's not actually there, Draycos said into Jack's mind. He's speaking through the ship's intercom.
Jack nodded. He'd already figured that one out.
"Jack, I know you can hear me," Neverlin continued. "I have something here that I believe belongs to you."
There was a short pause. "Jack?" a new voice called.
It was Alison.
Jack felt his heart seize up. Oh no.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Alison said. Even through the deck Jack could hear a slight quavering in her voice. "They—I couldn't—aah!"
Involuntarily, Jack twitched. The pain in her voice right then—
"Don't worry, Jack," Neverlin said. "She's not seriously hurt. Yet. But that could change."
Steady, Jack, Draycos cautioned. He's trying to draw us into the open.
Jack grimaced. He knew that. But knowing it didn't help his tight muscles in the slightest.
And if Alison was being tortured, what had happened to Taneem? Surely this time Neverlin and Frost couldn't possibly have missed finding the K'da riding on her skin.
"Believe it or not, though, you're in a more serious position than she is," Neverlin went on. "You see, now that the fleet has reassembled, all my ships are available to me. Including the troop carrier, with plenty of passenger space aboard. I presume you understand the full ramifications of that."
Do we? Jack asked.
Unfortunately, we do, Draycos answered grimly. He can now take all the crew and passengers off this ship, put them in the carrier, and open our ship to vacuum.
Terrific, Jack replied, glancing around the crawl space. I don't suppose you know where some vac suits are stashed?
Even if there are any still aboard, it would be a futile gesture, Draycos said. Vac suit oxygen supplies are limited to a few hours at the most, while Neverlin can leave the Brummgas in the carrier almost until the K'da/Shontine fleet is due to arrive.
Which is, what, another ten days?
Unless they're ahead of schedule, Draycos said. Call it somewhere between four and ten days. We can't possibly hold out here that long.
Aren't there any spare oxygen tanks?
Only a limited supply, Draycos said. And most of them are in five centralized locations. Neverlin could easily destroy them before the crew was evacuated.
"So it's up to you," Neverlin went on. "I'd actually prefer to have you alive, and if you come out now and surrender peacefully I give you my word you won't be harmed. But bear in mind that this is a limited-time offer." With another crackle, the intercom went silent.
Okay, Jack said, trying to think. If we can't hold out, what are our other options? Assuming we can find a vac suit, can we sneak outside and float our way to one of the other ships? Or could we even take over the Foxwolf itself and fly it somewhere?
I doubt either plan would work, Draycos said reluctantly. The other ships will surely be too far away for us to make a quick transfer, and of course there's no practical way to hide either our departure or our crossing. As for taking command of this ship, Neverlin will surely be prepared for us to try that.
Jack swallowed. Suddenly, the crawl space seemed a lot tighter than it had before. So what are we going to do?
For a moment Draycos was silent, his background thoughts rushing past Jack's mind like the rapids of a mountain stream. We surrender, the K'da said at last. If all he wanted was our deaths, he could simply have removed all the Brummgas and suffocated us as he threatened without giving us a warning.
So if he doesn't want us dead, what does he want?
I don't know, Draycos admitted. But if we stay here, we'll surely die. Alive, even in Neverlin's hands, there's always hope.
Jack took a deep breath, eleven years' worth of Uncle Virgil's warnings and counsel flowing through his mind. Run away. Protect yourself. Don't stick your neck out for anyone. Run away.
Run away. . . .
But he couldn't run away. Not this time.
Okay, he said with a sigh. Let's go.
Even with Neverlin's promise, Jack half-expected them to be gunned down as soon as they emerged from the tween gap. Certainly there were enough armed Brummgas waiting to have made quick work of them.
But apparently for once Neverlin had been telling the truth. "Okay I'm here," Jack said, trying to sound as if stepping into a circle of guns was something he did every day.
"So we see," a tall human said as he pushed his way through the wall of glowering Brummgas. "Lieutenant Pickering, captain of the Foxwolf." His eyes flicked up and down Jack's form. "I trust your friend is with you?"
"I'm here," Draycos confirmed, lifting the top of his head from Jack's shoulder.
Pickering didn't take a step backward, but Jack had the feeling that he very much wanted to. "Yes, I see." He lifted a finger and beckoned.
And to Jack's surprise, Langston stepped into view. "Hello, Jack," the other said darkly. "Nice to actually see you this time."
"Hey, it's not my fault you can't walk and read at the same time," Jack countered, picking up instantly on the cue. Langston must have played Frost the same scenario he'd pretended to play for Jack, that he'd been too busy studying his notepad to focus on the pilot who came out of that KK-29 patrol ship. "Come on; let's get this over with."
Langston jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "This way."
They walked in silence to the d
ocking bay. Brummgas lined the whole route, most of them fidgeting with their guns. Langston stepped to the side of the open hatchway and gestured Jack to go in.
Jack did so, and found himself in the KK-29 he'd borrowed from Chiggers back on Bentre. "I would have thought they have moved it by now," he commented.
"They did," Langston said, coming in and closing the hatch. "Frost had it brought back for the occasion. Come on—you might as well sit up front."
They headed forward to the cockpit. The ship was all powered up, Jack saw as he sat down in the copilot's seat. So were the weapons boards, he noted with interest. "A functional ship with functional weapons," he pointed out as Langston took the pilot's seat. "You'd think they wanted us to make a run for it."
"It does look that way, doesn't it?" Langston agreed. He checked his displays and hit the release control, and the patrol ship floated free. "Maybe they do. Maybe all this is just more of Frost's fine-weave rope."
"Could be," Jack conceded. "He's probably hoping we'll try something and he'll have an excuse to blast us to dust."
"I don't think so," Langston said as he eased in the drive, moving them away from the Foxwolf. "See those Djinn-90s over there?"
Jack peered out the canopy where the other was pointing. In the distance he could see three of the heavy fighters, drifting silently along. "Look like they're minding their own business, don't they?"
"That's the point—they are minding their own business," Langston said. "So is everyone else. If we made a break for it now, we'd be on ECHO before anyone could stop us."
Jack frowned, searching the sky. He didn't know nearly as much as Langston did about military ships and tactics, but he was willing to trust the other's judgment. "So what's the scam?" he asked. "They want some practice with the Death?"
"What Death?" Langston countered. "The only one left is on the Advocatus Diaboli, and it's way out of position to hit us back here."
"Then maybe we're booby-trapped," Jack suggested.
Langston shook his head. "I already ran a check on the air system and did a quick visual," he said. "There's nothing aboard they could use to gas us. And they sure aren't going to blow up one of their ships just to take us out. They need all of them they've got."
