by Timothy Zahn
Jack chewed at the inside of his cheek. "Draycos?" he asked. "What do you think?"
"I agree with Sergeant Langston," the K'da said from his shoulder. "The entire setup is strange."
"So what do we do?"
"We continue on to the Advocatus Diaboli," Draycos said.
"Because of Alison, I suppose?" Langston said.
"In part," Draycos said.
"Yeah," Langston muttered. "I don't know, Draycos. Something about her seems fishy to me."
"Join the club," Jack said dryly. "But you know how stubborn K'da poet-warriors can get when they're being noble."
"I suppose." Langston looked sideways at Jack, a crooked smile on his lips. "Lucky for me."
"Jack?" a whispered voice came from Jack's comm clip.
Jack jerked in surprise. Had Alison gotten free?
"Who's that?" Langston asked, frowning at him.
And then Jack's brain caught up with him. "It's Taneem," he said. "Taneem? Are you all right?"
"For now, yes," Taneem said. Even in a whisper Jack could hear the misery in her voice. "Jack, she lied to us. She lied to all of us."
"Calm down, Taneem," Draycos said, gently but firmly "Tell us what she lied about."
"Everything," Taneem said. "She's not a thief. She's General Aram Davi's daughter. I heard her say so."
Jack frowned. Why did that name sound familiar?
"The Malison Ring's commander?" Langston demanded, sounding stunned.
And then it clicked. "Oh, boy," Jack muttered.
"No wonder she had his voice pattern on the Essenay's computer," Taneem continued. "No wonder she had such wonderful burglary equipment."
"Okay, calm down," Jack said. "Given Frost's shenanigans with Malison Ring men and equipment, having Davi's daughter in the game may not be such a bad thing."
"You don't understand," Taneem said. "She's gone over to them. She and her father both. She's not in danger—she just pretended to be to get you and Draycos out of hiding."
Jack felt his stomach tighten. "Then Neverlin wasn't going to pull the Brummgas off the Foxwolf and try to kill us?"
"He couldn't," Taneem said. "Alison wrecked the troop carrier."
"I'll be swiggled," Langston said, peering at one of his displays. "She's right. There's a great big air-leaking dent in its side."
"Okay," Jack said. He was rather surprised at how calm his voice sounded. "We're definitely butter side down now. What do you think, Draycos? Now do we make a run for it?"
For a few seconds there was nothing but the rapid flow of Draycos's thoughts against his mind. "No," the K'da said. "For one thing, Sergeant Langston's observations and conclusions haven't changed. If Neverlin truly hopes we'll try to escape, we must definitely not do so."
"So we just walk into this other trap instead?"
"If it is, in fact, a trap," Draycos said. "Taneem, where are you right now?"
"In one of the ducts near Neverlin's office," Taneem said. "Not close enough for him to hear us."
"How much of the conversation did you hear where Alison revealed her true identity?"
"All of it, I think," Taneem said. "They didn't believe her at first, but she had something hidden in her sleeve that proved it."
"I'm sure she did," Draycos said. "Question: did she ever mention you?"
There was a short pause. "No, she didn't," Taneem said. "She said her father wanted you alive so they could learn the secret of how you can go onto people's skin."
"But she never mentioned you?" Draycos persisted.
"No, not that I heard."
"So what does that prove?" Langston asked, frowning.
"It proves she's still playing games," Jack told him, some of the weight lifting off his lungs. "And not just with us."
"What do you mean?" Taneem asked. "Is she not General Davi's daughter, then?"
"I don't know who she is," Jack said. "Not that I ever did, come to think of it. But if she'd really betrayed us, she should have betrayed you, too."
"She did tell Neverlin you'd been a useful ally while your goals weren't bumping heads," Taneem said. "Maybe they still aren't."
"Maybe," Jack said. "Draycos?"
"I'm willing to trust her a while longer," Draycos said.
"That's good enough for me," Jack said. It was almost the truth, too. "Meanwhile, Taneem, you stay hidden. Listen in as much as you can, but stay hidden."
"What about my six-hour limit?" Taneem asked. "Over half of that has already passed."
And Alison was probably going to be cooped up with Neverlin and Frost for the rest of it, Jack suspected. "That's okay—you and Draycos can take turns on me," he said. "Just track us down after they lock us up."
"All right," Taneem said. "Be careful. I hope you're right about Alison."
"We will, and we hope so, too," Jack said. "We'll talk to you later."
The transmission clicked off. "That assumes they'll put you some place where she can get to you," Langston warned.
"And that we're not under constant surveillance," Jack said grimly. "I know. But I don't know what else to do."
"Maybe I can find an excuse to go aboard later," Langston suggested. "Do you still have that spare comm clip I lent Draycos?"
"Right here," Jack said, digging it out of his pocket and handing it to the other. "It's still set on our frequency."
"Good," Langston said, slipping it into his own pocket. "If I can get back in time, I'll give her a call and arrange a rendezvous."
"But don't take any unnecessary risks," Draycos warned. "At the moment we want you alive and with as much freedom of movement as possible."
"He's right," Jack seconded. "Don't worry about Taneem. Between Alison and me, we should be able to cover her."
"Okay," Langston said. "You two watch yourselves. Whatever Neverlin's got up his sleeve, I'm guessing you're not going to like it."
CHAPTER 23
Another cluster of guns was waiting when Jack and Langston emerged from the patrol ship into the Advocatus Diaboli. This time, though, the guns were being held by humans instead of Brummgas.
"Hello, Jack," Frost greeted him gravely. He was, Jack noted, standing between and slightly behind two of the other Malison Ring mercenaries. Apparently, he didn't trust Draycos quite enough to be at the front of the line. "You've been a busy boy."
Jack shrugged. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop, Uncle Virgil always said."
"And he would know," Frost said. "Where is your elusive uncle, by the way?"
For a moment Jack was tempted to tell him the truth. Frost's reaction to the news that the man he'd been chasing for the past six months had in fact died nearly a year and a half ago might be amusing.
But it was never a good idea to give away information for free. "I'm sure he's out there somewhere," Jack said instead. "Lurking, you know. Uncle Virgil's very good at lurking."
"Apparently so," Frost said. "Fine. Turn around and get back into the patrol ship. You too, Langston."
"First let me see Alison," Jack said. "I want to see that she's all right."
"She's fine," Frost said. "She's waiting for us at the troop carrier."
Jack frowned. "The troop carrier?"
"Your new temporary home." Frost waved Jack back toward the patrol ship. "If you please?"
Draycos?
Do as he says, Draycos said. But there was a dark grimness to his tone.
A grimness Jack himself was also feeling. Because if he and Alison were both aboard the carrier—and if they both stayed aboard the carrier—Taneem was going to be in serious trouble.
"Unless you'd rather go out right now in a blaze of glory," Frost suggested as Jack hesitated.
Jack grimaced. "Sorry," he said, backing toward the hatchway. "Got caught up in the scenery."
A few minutes later, Jack, Langston, Frost, and half a dozen of the mercenaries were again moving through space, this time making for the troop carrier. "You're probably wondering what happened to it," Frost commented as they approache
d the flashing lights of a docking station.
"A little," Jack said, gazing out at the ship's crushed side. Up close, it didn't look as bad as it had earlier on the KK-29's display. "Someone run a red light?"
"In a manner of speaking," Frost said. "There's a vac suit in the rack behind you. Put it on, and rig it for long term."
Jack glanced back at the rack. "No thanks," he said. "I'm fine."
"Put it on or die right here."
Jack shivered. Frost hadn't even raised his voice, but there was something in his tone that told him the man wasn't in the mood for flippant remarks.
Silently, Jack got up and put on the suit. Rigging for long term meant hooking up the food and bathroom facilities, which he did. "Now what?" he asked, leaving the helmet attached to his belt.
There was a gentle bump as Langston docked them with the carrier. "We go inside," Frost said, standing up. "Follow me. Langston, you stay here."
The airlock was larger than those Jack was familiar with. Probably designed to handle a dozen vac-suited soldiers at a time, he decided. Frost led them through the lock, out another door into a supply and maintenance room, then through a heavily armored door into a long, high-ceilinged chamber.
Midway along the chamber's long inner bulkhead, leading farther into the ship, was another airlock-style door. Nearby was an equipment cart containing a selection of tools, including a small welding torch. Across from the airlock, on the hull side of the chamber, there was a long hatchway that was nearly as large as the room itself. "What's this, a docking bay?" Jack asked.
"Yes, for one of the two scout ships," Frost confirmed. "They're usually not well armored, so they're kept inside where the carrier's main hull can protect them. Bucket on, then over against the wall by the tool cart."
I think I'm going to hate this, Jack warned Draycos as he slipped his helmet over his head and snugged it into place.
Which part?
The tool cart part, Jack told him. I take it you hadn't noticed the welding gear.
Draycos flicked his tail against Jack's leg. No, I hadn't, he said. You're right. I think we may soon both hate this.
Jack crossed to the inner bulkhead as ordered. At Frost's direction, two of the mercenaries wrapped short lengths of cable around the wrists of Jack's suit and locked them in place. They then held the other ends of the cables against the bay's inner bulkhead while a third man quick-welded them to the metal. Jack's ankles were next, followed by a larger loop around his waist.
"There," Frost said, running a critical eye over the work. "That should hold you awhile."
"You promised I could see Alison," Jack reminded him.
"And so you will," Frost said. Right on cue, down the bulkhead came the hiss of the airlock door opening.
Jack craned his neck to look as five vac-suited figures strode into the bay. Three of them carried heavy rifles, which they lowered to point at Jack as soon as they had a clear line of fire. The other two were unarmed.
But even with the partial concealment of their helmets Jack had no trouble identifying them.
One was Neverlin. The other was Alison.
"Hello, Jack," Neverlin's voice came through the speaker in Jack's helmet. He sounded almost cheerful, or at least as cheerful as the man probably ever got.
"And good-bye, Jack," Frost added. He gestured to his own group of mercenaries, who holstered their weapons and followed Frost into the airlock.
The door hissed closed behind them. A moment later, as he pressed his back against the bulkhead, Jack felt the rhythm of the pumps as they started pulling the air out of the bay.
"So nice of you to join us," Neverlin said. He gestured to Alison. "As you can see, she's safe and sound."
"You okay, Alison?" Jack asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," Alison assured him, her voice subdued and quavering.
It was, Jack thought, the very image of a scared, helpless little girl. Quite the little actress, isn't she? he commented sourly. I just hope it is an act.
Remember Taneem, Draycos reminded him.
Right. "Nice little box, this," Jack commented, looking back at Neverlin. "I was just wondering a few days ago how you would go about keeping a K'da poet-warrior neutralized."
"Now you know," Neverlin said. "Actually, to be fair, it was Ms. Kayna's idea."
Play dumb, Draycos warned.
Relax—I'm on it. "What was her idea?" Jack asked, frowning.
"Putting you in here," Neverlin said. "Now that we've evacuated the air, the K'da can't use his claws or teeth without opening your suit to vacuum, thereby killing you both. Very clever."
"You're too kind," Alison said. She straightened up.
And suddenly the helpless little girl was gone. "But then, I have spent the last couple of months thinking about it."
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, letting his puzzlement move toward disbelief on its way to outrage.
"Sorry, Jack," Alison said. "I'm sure your uncle Virgil warned you against trusting people. Now you know why."
"Allow me to present Ms. Alison Davi," Neverlin said, gesturing to her. "Daughter of the Malison Ring's supreme commander."
Jack looked at Alison, tightening the muscles in his throat and cheeks. Most of the dramatic acting was wasted, he knew, with his helmet's faceplate obscuring a lot of Neverlin's view. But some of it would be visible, and he had to play this exactly right. "Of course," he said. "I knew something was wrong with her. I should have guessed it was because she's a killer's daughter."
Alison started to take a step toward him, broke off the movement. "That's rich, coming from the son of thieves," she bit out.
"Uncle Virgil is a thief," Jack said stiffly. "My real parents were Judge-Paladins."
"Right. Like I said." Deliberately, Alison turned to face Neverlin. "So what's the plan, now that you're down to one Death weapon?" she asked. "Take the Advocatus Diaboli in with the Foxwolf and do what you can with the one you have aboard?"
"Certainly we'll be going in together," Neverlin said, a nasty sort of slyness creeping into his voice. "But whoever said we were down to one weapon?"
Alison glanced at Jack, a frown creasing her forehead. "I thought the K'da shredded all the others."
"He shredded all those aboard the Foxwolf, yes," Neverlin confirmed. "Unfortunately for him, I'd already taken two of them out and loaded them aboard a pair of our Djinn-90s prior to Sergeant Chapman's raid on the Malison Ring depot at Driftline."
"Sounds a little risky," Alison said.
"Sounds very much necessary," Neverlin corrected. "Your doing, as it happens."
"Mine?" Alison asked, frowning a bit harder.
"Thanks to that trouble you stirred up with your father's people last month on Brum-a-dum," Neverlin explained. "With the entire Malison Ring now presumably on alert, I thought Chapman might have trouble picking up the Rhino-10s we wanted. I thought giving him two of the Death weapons might be useful in case they needed to shoot their way out."
"I see," Alison said, her voice just a little too casual. "And did they?"
"As it happens, they did," he said, his voice a bit odd. "But not from any Malison Ring ships. At least, nothing carrying a Malison Ring insignia."
"Just like your ships," Jack put in. "Maybe it was another renegade like Frost."
"Maybe," Neverlin said. "But whoever they were, they were foolish enough to challenge Chapman as he and his new ships headed for deep space. The last thing they ever did."
Jack winced. Who had they been? he wondered. Local law enforcement? Pirates? "Better be careful," he warned. "You don't want to run down the clock on your new toys. Be embarrassing to have them burn out just when things with the K'da and Shontine start getting interesting."
"I appreciate your concern," Neverlin said, smiling through his faceplate. "But our friends have assured us we'll have plenty of time to complete our mission."
"Good of them," Jack said. "You really think they'll still be your friends once the K'da and Shontine are dead?"
"At any rate, we'll be leaving you now," Neverlin said, ignoring the question. "I have a pair of Death weapons to transfer back aboard the Foxwolf, and—"
"Because once the K'da and Shontine are dead, what's to stop them?" Jack cut in, raising his voice. "What's to keep them from turning on you and the Malison Ring and the Patri Chookoock—?"
Neverlin stepped up to Jack, glowering behind his faceplate, and with a flick of his finger cut off Jack's radio. Good-bye, Jack, he mouthed in the sudden silence.
Gesturing to Alison, he crossed to the airlock. Alison gave Jack a single unreadable glance and then followed. They stepped inside, and Jack felt the bulkhead behind him vibrate as the pumps once again started shifting air around. I think you annoyed our host, Draycos said dryly.
All part of the grand plan, buddy, Jack assured him. He wouldn't have been so quick to cut off my ranting if there weren't other people who could hear it. That tells us there's still someone aboard.
The damage didn't seem all that great, Draycos agreed. It's probably still flyable.
And if there are people aboard, then all the other amenities of life should be, too. Pulling on his wrist straps, Jack pressed his back firmly against the bulkhead. Take a peek and see what you can see.
Draycos slid around on his skin, and Jack felt the K'da lean his fourth-dimensional way over the wall behind them. He held the pose for a few seconds, then came fully back onto Jack's skin. Neverlin and Alison are removing their suits, he reported. There are also two Brummgas there—Neverlin appears to be giving them some instructions.
Hopefully having to do with changing our oxygen tank every couple of hours, Jack said. What sort of room is it?
It appears to be a preparation room, Draycos said. There are two racks of vac suits, plus oxygen tanks, maneuvering units, and tool cabinets like the one they used to attach your suit to the wall.
Perfect, Jack said.
How exactly is it perfect? Draycos asked.
There's air over there, and it looks like the whole crew is Brummgas, Jack explained. Knowing Neverlin, he would have given his orders to humans if there were any aboard.
