by Timothy Zahn
"I'll be cursed," Frost breathed, his anger and impatience suddenly gone. "I'll be double cursed. That's his parents' old ship. Morgan must have stolen it the same time he hooked up with the kid."
Neverlin barked a short laugh. "Well, well. A Judge-Paladin ship, eh? No wonder we haven't been able to find Virgil Morgan all these months."
"Explain," the Valahgua demanded.
"We couldn't find him because he isn't aboard that ship," Neverlin said. "Not anymore. He's dead or just gone—it doesn't really matter which."
He pointed to the display. "What matters is that that ship is being run by a very sophisticated computer."
He smiled maliciously. "And a computer can't suit up and cut Jack free."
"Which means Jack is still out of the picture," Frost said. "He'll stay chained to the bulkhead until all this is over and we go back and get him."
"Assuming he lives that long," Neverlin said. "If his ship has managed to kill all the Brummgas, he and the K'da will die as soon as their current air tank runs out."
Neverlin looked at Alison. "In which case we'll try to keep one of the civilian refugee ships intact for your father," he added.
"I'd appreciate that," Alison said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. Finally, something she'd done had worked.
"There—see," the Lordhighest put in. "They have increased speed. The warships are coming to our aid. They will now be the first to die."
"Patience, Lordhighest," Neverlin said calmly. With Jack and Draycos off the threat list, his plan was back on track again. "We're going to allow those six ships to go past us unharmed. Perhaps we'll let the next batch through, too, assuming the Lordover on the Foxwolf is able to persuade them to send a second group. We want as many enemy ships out of position before we show what we have waiting."
Alison gazed at the displays, estimating times and distances. If every ship kept to its same course and speed, she realized with a sinking feeling, Neverlin's plan was going to work beautifully. Those six K'da/Shontine warships would be completely out of the fight by the time the Foxwolf and Advocatus Diaboli opened up with their Death weapons. If the K'da and Shontine detached another group of warships as well, Neverlin could probably take out a good percentage of the remaining defenders before they even realized what they were facing.
And then, as she watched, another group of ten K'da/Shontine warships moved away from the refugee fleet. Forming up into a loose combat array, they started forward.
And Alison came to a decision.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said, heading for the bridge door.
No one bothered to answer. With their attention on their incoming prey, possibly no one even heard her. Leaving the bridge, she headed aft.
Back on Brum-a-dum she had promised Taneem she would help protect Draycos's people. Up to now, everything she'd done toward that goal had been relatively safe and easy and ineffective. But all of that was about to change.
All of it.
CHAPTER 27
The trip across the fifty-yard gap seemed to Jack to take forever. But then, all at once, the Essenay's open hatchway loomed in front of him.
And then he was through the opening and flying across the airlock way faster than he'd realized he was going. He threw out his arms and braced himself.
He hit the far wall, thankfully not as hard as he'd expected. His arms took the impact with ease, and even as he bounced back again he felt the flow of air against his vac suit as Uncle Virge closed the hatch behind him and started filling the airlock.
"Are you all right, Jack lad?" the computer's voice came as Jack unfastened his helmet. He'd barely gotten it off before Draycos leaped out of his collar and took off toward the cockpit. "Langston said Harper got killed ramming the Advocatus Diaboli—"
"Later," Jack interrupted. Stripping off the vac suit, he headed| after Draycos.
He was halfway to the cockpit before Uncle Virge's last comment suddenly registered.
Harper had been killed?
But there was no time to think about that now. He and Draycos had a fleet to save.
Jack reached the cockpit to find Draycos standing behind the pilot's seat, his forepaws resting on the back of the chair, his long neck moving back and forth as he scanned the Essenay's displays. "How's it look?" Jack asked, slipping past him and sitting down.
"The fleet's still far out of the Death's range," Draycos said. "But several of the warships have left position and are moving forward. They seem to be angling toward three areas to the rear of the Advocatus Diaboli."
"Great," Jack grunted, glancing over the Essenay's systems as he strapped in. The only ships he could see ahead of them were the Advocatus Diaboli, the Foxwolf, and five of Frost's Djinn-90s. The latter, to Jack's mild surprise, had spread themselves wide to all sides instead of flying in a group between him and two bigger ships. "Uncle Virge, do you have a tag on the rest of Neverlin's fleet?"
"They're about a thousand miles behind us," Uncle Virge said. "In three different groups, like Draycos said. All three groups are moving up fast."
"Pretending they're chasing the poor defenseless Foxwolf and Advocatus Diaboli," Jack said, nodding grimly. "Uncle Virgil and I ran this scam I don't know how many times."
"How do we defeat it?" Draycos asked.
"All it takes is a toot on the whistle," Jack said, keying the long-range transmitter. "K'da/Shontine fleet, this is the Essenay," he said. "Please respond."
There was no answer. "K'da/Shontine refugee fleet, this is Jack Morgan aboard the Essenay," Jack tried again. "I have someone here who needs to speak to you." He gestured Draycos toward the microphone. "Draycos?"
Draycos let loose with a torrent of alien speech. Jack listened in fascination at the flow of the words, regretting the fact that he wouldn't be able to understand and therefore fully appreciate the astonishment that would undoubtedly be part of the fleet's response.
But there was no response, astonished or otherwise. "Uncle Virge?" he asked.
"Radio's working perfectly, Jack lad," Uncle Virge assured him. "Neverlin must be jamming or bubbling the signal."
"Of course he is," Jack said, disgusted with himself for not having realized that sooner. "That's why those five Djinn-90s are flying wide—they're adding their own jamming to the mix."
"What method of jamming is he using?" Draycos asked.
"Either a blank bubble or a jamming static field," Uncle Virge said. "I can't tell which from this distance. A bubble absorbs or scatters all radio signals passing through it, while a static field simply broadcasts noise on all frequencies so as to drown out everything else."
"It's probably a bubble," Jack said. "It's classier and a lot more subtle. It's also easier to keep your own communications open with a bubble than it is with static."
"If the Advocatus Diaboli is able to signal through the bubble, does that mean we can do the same if we use its frequency and pattern?" Draycos asked.
"In theory, yes," Jack said. "In practice, we'll never find the pattern in time."
"Then what do we do?"
Jack gazed out the canopy at the drive glows ahead in the distance. "We get past the bubble," he said, getting a grip on the control yoke and firing up the main drive. "And since those Djinn-90s were kind enough to pull way out to the sides out of the way, it looks like our best bet will be to go straight up the middle."
"Up the middle?" Uncle Virge echoed. "Jack, you don't mean—?"
"I sure do," Jack confirmed as he ran the drive to full power. "We're taking this crate right up the Advocatus Diaboli's tailpipe."
The Advocatus Diaboli's living areas were deserted as Alison made her way aft from the bridge.
Not surprising, really. All of the crew were at their emergency stations, and all the Malison Ring mercenaries still on board were guarding the bridge, the Death, and other vital areas.
One of those areas was Neverlin's office, she saw as she rounded the final corner and came within sight of the office door. There were three men on
duty: two flanking the door, the third holding station down the corridor halfway between the office and Alison.
There was no way she could take out all three of them, positioned as they were, at once, not even with Taneem to help. Alison would have to play it another way.
"I need to get into Mr. Neverlin's office," she announced as she strode forward.
The nearest of the guards stirred, as if preparing to move into her path. Alison gave him a brief, lofty look, and he seemed to think better of it. "It's a thumbprint lock, Ms. Davi," he said instead.
"I know," Alison said. "He's already programmed me in."
The other's lip twitched. "Colonel Frost left orders that no one was to be allowed near the office."
"Colonel Frost isn't in charge of Mr. Neverlin's office," Alison countered as she strode past him. "You can check with Mr. Neverlin if you want."
She got two more steps before the sergeant at the door worked through his own hesitation and nodded to the man now behind Alison. "Give him a call, Halberd," he said.
Alison glanced back over her shoulder as the mercenary tapped his comm clip. "Halberd for Mr. Neverlin," he called.
Alison kept going, forcing herself to maintain a calm, even pace. Neverlin hadn't been wearing a comm clip, which meant Halberd's call would have to go through one of the Advocatus Diaboli's crew, all of whom were rather busy right now. With luck, that would give her the time she needed.
She reached the door and stepped between the two guards, "A minute, please, Ms. Davi," the sergeant said, holding his hand out to block her as she lifted her right thumb toward the waist-high reader.
"Fine," Alison said with an annoyed sigh. Turning around, she leaned her back against the door.
And as she did, she pressed her left thumb against the base of her left forefinger and slid her implanted lockpick out from beneath the fingernail. Keeping the hand behind her back, she eased the pick into the programming notch beneath the reader.
Private ship locks, which were usually only accessible by trusted friends and employees, were seldom very well defended. This one was no exception. Within a few seconds she felt the gentle snick that signaled that the lockpick had done its electronic magic. The lock was open to receive new data.
She looked down the corridor. Halberd was still talking quietly on his comm clip, but his forehead was starting to crease into a frown. Sliding the lockpick back beneath her nail, Alison reached her left hand a little higher behind her back and pressed her thumb to the reader.
Behind her, the door slid open. "Hey!" Halberd shouted, pointing toward her.
The other two turned to look. Their eyes widened as Alison took a long step backward into the office and slapped the lock control.
One of the guards lunged sideways, making a last-second grab for her. But the door was faster, sliding into his arms and batting them aside and back out into the corridor.
"That was close," Taneem murmured as Alison circled Neverlin's desk and headed for the door to the communications nook. The K'da lifted her head from Alison's shoulder, then bounded out through her collar. "What do you want me to do?"
"Right now, just stay out of the way," Alison said. She opened the door to the nook and sat down at the console. Keying for long-range radio, she hit the switch. "Attention, K'da/Shontine refugee fleet," she said into the microphone. "Attention. You're in danger. The ships coming toward you are not, repeat not, friends or allies. They're enemies attempting to get behind your defenses—"
"Identify yourself," a voice demanded in heavily accented English.
Not a human voice, Alison decided, or Valahguan or Brummgan, or even K'da. Shontine? "My name is Alison Kayna," she said. "I'm a friend of Draycos, poet-warrior of the K'da, who arrived six months ago aboard the Havenseeker."
"Let me speak with Draycos."
"He's not here with me," Alison said. "He's in another ship, whose communications have been cut off."
"Which other ship? Can you prove you are friend of Draycos?"
"He has golden scales, each with a red edge—"
"Not description," the other cut her off. "Can you prove you are friend of Draycos?"
Alison felt her stomach tighten. It had never occurred to her that the refugee fleet might not believe her story. From the way Draycos had talked, she'd assumed they would be coming in alert and suspicious and not trusting anybody or anything.
But of course, the Lordover on the Foxwolf had gotten to them first. In fact, he was probably talking to the fleet right now, feeding them his version of who and what Alison was. "No, I can't prove it," she gritted. "But you have to—"
And then, to her surprise, Taneem leaned over her shoulder, her gray-scaled snout pointed toward the microphone. " 'The sky was fair,' " she said. " 'The evil's lair
" 'Was scattered on the hill's black side.
" 'The warriors grim, in light so dim
" 'Were gathered like the ocean's tide.
" 'For evil they would not abide.
" 'Though death await, if death their fate,
" 'From this their faces would not hide,
" 'For evil they would not abide.' "
She seemed to shake herself. "The start of Troodae's Saga," she identified it. "Translated into English by the poet-warrior Draycos."
"Well?" Alison prompted.
There was no answer. "Refugee fleet?" she called again, looking over at the status display.
One look was all she needed. "Neverlin's cut us off," she said, standing up and crossing back into the main office.
There she came to an abrupt stop. There were voices coming from the corridor. Lots of them. None of them sounding friendly.
"What do we do?" Taneem asked nervously from behind her.
"We surrender." Alison eyed Taneem. "Or rather, I surrender. Come on."
Alison retreated again into the communications nook. "No time for subtlety," she said, pointing up at the room's ventilation duct. "Shear off the bottom two bolts, then get aboard."
Taneem leaped up, slicing the heads off the bolts with two quick swipes of her claws. She landed on the deck and bounced up again, touching the back of Alison's neck and melting onto her skin.
Alison reached up to the grille and managed to force her fingers under the now-loosened bottom. "Go," she ordered.
A moment later the K'da was safely in the duct. "Stay there until the cavalry arrives," Alison said. "Good luck."
"Wait," Taneem called softly. "What about you? And what cavalry?"
"I'll be all right," Alison said, hoping fervently that that was true. "And by cavalry I mean Jack and Draycos."
"They're aboard?"
"Not yet," Alison said. "But they will be."
"How do you know?"
"Because they know we're here," Alison said. "And I know Draycos." She paused. "And I know Jack, too. Now scoot."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped back through the door into the office.
The Malison Ring soldiers were just charging in, guns ready in their hands. "Easy," Alison called, holding her hands up, palms outward, as the weapons swiveled in her direction.
From outside in the corridor, Neverlin pushed his way between two of the soldiers. His face was carved from stone, his eyes blazing with barely controlled fury. "So here we are," he said, his voice deathly quiet.
"Here we are," Alison agreed, rather surprised at how calm she sounded. "It's still not too late to call this whole thing off."
His lip twitched in a sardonic half smile. "Don't be ridiculous, child. You think your pathetic little effort has made any difference?"
"The fleet's been alerted," Alison pointed out. "You're not going to be able to split up the defenders now the way you hoped."
"I never thought that trick would work in the first place," Neverlin said casually. "Frankly, I was surprised they fell for it at all. No, my dear Alison whoever-you-really-are, that was simply our most optimistic Plan A. Plan B has already been implemented."
Alison gazed into his eyes. If t
he man was lying or bluffing, she couldn't see it. "You're still way outnumbered," she said.
He barked a short laugh. "You still don't understand, do you? We were monitoring your call. We heard everything you managed to get out before we cut you off."
Alison felt her pulse pounding in her ears. What had he heard that she'd missed? "And?" she asked carefully.
Neverlin smiled, the smile stopping halfway to his eyes. "You were so busy trying to convince them to listen to your poem," he said softly, "that you never got around to mentioning the Valahgua. Or the Death."
Alison felt her chest tighten. He was right. Mother of God, he was right.
"And so the defenders will regroup to cautiously intercept us and escort us into a protected place away from the main fleet while they try to figure out which of us is telling the truth," Neverlin went on. "And when we have them all neatly bunched up, we'll kill them. All of them."
He held out a hand to her. "Come," he said. "You'll have a much better view of the slaughter from the bridge."
"Thanks," Alison said through dry lips. "I'll pass."
"The Lordhighest insists," Neverlin said, his hand still stretched toward her. "I've promised the Valahgua they could have you to deal with as they see fit after this is all over."
He raised his eyebrows slightly. "I trust General Davi won't mind his daughter being tortured to death?"
"Would it matter if he did?" Alison asked.
"Not really," Neverlin said. "But then, General Davi has never even heard of you, has he? Come. The K'da and Shontine are waiting."
CHAPTER 28
"Something's happening," Uncle Virge called over the roar of the Essenay's drive. "The K'da/Shontine warships seem to be changing formation."
"Let me see," Draycos said, raising his head from Jack's collar for a better look at the displays.
The computer was right. The K'da/Shontine defenders were definitely reconfiguring.
"Maybe Alison got through to them," Jack suggested. "If the Advocatus Diaboli's radio is set up to transmit through the bubble, she might have gotten to it and clued them in."
