Lee, Sharon & Miller, Steve - Liaden Books 1-9

by Liaden 1-9 (lit)

  "Jeeves?" Pat Rin cleared his throat. "Yes, I will. Shan—"

  "Softly," his cousin interrupted, not ungently. "We cannot know that the line remains secure."

  "Of course." He drew a careful breath. "Until soon, cousin."

  "Until soon, Pat Rin. Stay the course."

  The connection light went out.

  "How fare we, my brother?" Sheather inquired from his position as guard over the Commander, who lay unconscious, savaged hand hastily wrapped in a shirt.

  Val Con was rapidly divesting Agent ter'Fendil of the tools of his trade: knives, smoke-gas pellets, garrote, capsules filled with poison, cunning button-sized explosives; the wallet, with its generous destructive possibilities; the boots, the interesting little blade under the sock, various guns in a diversity of calibers…

  They had concealed themselves in the Commander's office—a questionable solution, at best. The advantages of the situation included a door that would not yield to the searchers, and access to the Commander's files, computers and comms. That there was no easy escape was…annoying.

  Val Con removed a selection of pins and wires from the seams of Agent ter'Fendil's vest.

  "We are in some disarray, I fear," he said to Sheather. "Behind enemy lines, burdened by prisoners and casualties…" He glanced over his shoulder to the place where Anthora kept watch over their two injured—an old man and an ancient gray cat—and returned to his task.

  "On the whole, it would be best if we simply melted away into the night…"

  As if to underscore the whimsy of that expressed desire, the loudspeaker in the ceiling gave tongue: "Intruder alert! Multiple intruders on Level Seven…"

  "Enough." Val Con pushed the Agent against the wall, under Sheather's watchful blade, and edged past Nelirikk, who was happily removing the travel packing from their supply of explosives.

  At the Commander's desk, he sat, and reached for the comm.

  The access codes changed frequently, according to a pattern imbedded in the Loop of every Agent. Val Con frowned at the comm, trying to reconstruct the barely-glimpsed pattern—and, suddenly, gently, in the space behind his eyes that had previously been reserved for Loop display, there hung an access code.

  Something had gone terribly wrong.

  Ren Zel felt himself a man of two separate but equal parts.

  One part sat his board on the bridge of the Dutiful Passage, attending the minutia of piloting, monitoring the various bands that told of mayhem and dismay on the nearer stations, and minding his shields most closely.

  The second part knelt next to Anthora on a cold metal floor, one hand on the chest of an old and fragile man, the other on the laboring side of a valiant gray cat.

  "What's amiss?" he asked and felt her sigh.

  "Mr. dea'Gauss must have a 'doc—and that soon. Merlin—he has been shot. I cannot—quite—understand how badly he is wounded. If I could but take both home…I have tried bespeaking the Tree, and there is no answer. We are trapped here."

  "Are you?" He glanced around the cold metal room, seeing the golden lines running pure and true. "Perhaps not."

  Fingers poised above the comm, Val Con considered the access code hanging just behind his eyes.

  "Brother!" Anthora's voice was sharp with urgency.

  He spun, heart clenched in fear of hearing the old man's death— but no. His sister was standing tall, face animated—even eager.

  "I require aid," she said quickly. "Do you put dea'Gauss on my back and I shall take him to Jelaza Kazone."

  He blinked. Anthora was a wizard of some note, true enough, but…

  "Will you walk through walls?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I will. Assist me."

  In the end, it required Nelirikk to gently lift dea'Gauss onto Anthora's back. Val Con lashed the man's wrists together on her breast, and used a length of fuse to tie them both 'round the waist.

  "If I am able to return, I will do so," she said, breathless with bearing the unaccustomed burden. "Merlin…"

  "If you make it to safety, you will remain there," Val Con said firmly. "We shall care for Merlin—and ourselves." He stepped back, waving at Nelirikk to do the same.

  "If you are able, now is the time," he murmured.

  "Yes." Slowly, awkward with the added weight, she walked directly toward the wall.

  There was a flash of golden light, and an instant when the metal went to fog—then Anthora, and Mr. dea'Gauss, were gone.

  "Jela's blood produces many wonders," Nelirikk commented, and returned to the unpacking of explosives.

  After a moment, Val Con went back to the comm, and tapped in the code he had been given.

  The unit light went from red to green. Scarcely daring to breathe, Val Con punched in the code for Jeeves' private line.

  "Jelaza Kazone."

  Val Con sat down in the Commander's chair.

  "This is Korval," he said, keeping his voice steady, despite his foolishly pounding heart. "Pray confirm my ID. Also, please put a tracer on this call. Let Miri know that we are well, at liberty, but…contained. How stands the action?"

  "ID confirmed. Miri will be informed. Working. How wide a theater?"

  "Entire."

  A small pause.

  "The planetary defense net is ours," Jeeves said. "We control near space. A warship of the Department of the Interior has been destroyed by one of Lord Pat Rin's vessels. Dutiful Passage has been pressed into service for back up and link duty. Scout and Juntavas forces are prepared to allow Tree-and-Dragon central command if action is necessary."

  "Jeeves, forgive me—Lord Pat Rin's forces?"

  "Yes, quite an elegant group of ships flying Tree-and-Dragon, perfect for a low key planetary embargo, insurrection control, or as siege ships. They are precisely disciplined and well-crewed."

  Ah, are they? And how came Pat Rin by such ships? Val Con moved his shoulders, putting aside such questions in favor of those more pressing.

  "Planetary?" he asked Jeeves.

  "Much of the planet is calm; Solcintra Portmaster has issued a flight hiatus, incidentally warning Captain Mendoza that her license is in danger. Solcintra City is not calm. There are riots in strategic locations, and we have signs of enemy action in Low Port. Higdon's Howlers are active at your location and at the spaceport. Here, we have withstood several attempts at penetration and anticipate—pardon, working…" .

  Across the room, Sheather moved, knife flashing. There was a scream—of metal, as the blade sheared through the floor. "Brother, he has initiated a device!"

  The Commander's hand was still wrapped in his shirt; Nelirikk sprang forward and jerked the covering off, forcing the clenched hand open…

  "Scout." He threw the object; Val Con snatched it out of the air and stared down at it—a short and stubby wand, its surface studded with tiny buttons and switches…

  Agent ter'Fendil shrank against the wall, staring at the Commander in horror.

  "You've given them orders. But—"

  "…working!" Jeeves voice came out of the comm. "Alert! There has been a sixty thousand fold increase in neutrino emissions from Liad. Triangulation places the source at your location. Suggest immediate evacuation of all personnel."

  Nelirikk had dragged the Commander up by the back of his collar. He shook him, as a dog shakes a rat. "Inform me!"

  The Commander said nothing.

  "The level of neutrino flux is consistent with old-style timonium powered armored units," Jeeves said. "Suggest immediate evacuation."

  "Brother," Sheather said. "Something of much power is in motion. It moves strangely…" He turned and placed his three fingered hand flat against the wall.

  "It comes…"

  There was fighting on the stations, there was fighting in the streets. Status reports poured in steadily, until Miri felt like she was drowning in details.

  The Department's base in the commercial district of Solcintra city had been taken by an angry mob, led, she strongly suspected, by scouts—a victory for the angel
s, except for the civilians dead, of course.

  Closer to the port, the news wasn't so good—the mob there had been repelled, expensively. Word was that there was a regroup in process.

  Low Port was the worry—there'd been a couple unanticipated explosions. There were scouts there, too, trying to organize an evacuation.

  The wall of books to her left shimmered and went foggy, for all the world like Clutch drive affect.

  Miri blinked and came half out of her chair, too tired to even swear at the pain in her arm.

  The books solidified and suddenly she wasn't alone. A dark-haired woman with an old man tied across her back was swaying in front of the bookcase.

  "Help," she said.

  There was a crashing sound behind the wall, and another.

  "…Autonomous Semi-sentient Policing Systems," Jeeves said; "or ASPS. They were deployed a number of times on outworlds, for the most part disastrously, which resulted in public backlash against applications of such technology to civilian situations. I was once assigned as back up, and then lead control in a military operation designed to rid a world of the devices…approximately seventeen million dead as a result of erroneous deployment…"

  "You must define the enemy or they will destroy everything," Agent ter'Fendil said. He lurched to his feet, ignoring Sheather, his blade—and the Commander, who was all at once on his feet, a plain metal blade in his good hand, slashing at the unprotected back—— ter'Fendil spun, Agent-quick, slapped the knife away, closing and twisting, taking advantage of his adversary's momentum—

  The Commander's neck broke with a snap. Agent ter'Fendil dropped the body and shrank back, staring.

  "…do not draw attention to yourself in any circumstances…"

  Jeeves was saying, over the clanking in the hallway.

  Vail Con slapped up the screen, accessed the hallway camera, and sucked in his breath.

  Thee hall was blocked with objects—four objects, in fact. Each as large; as Edger, all of deep green metal, all bearing large Terran numerals—Val Con saw numbers 1, 3, 15…

  "…energy spike entirely consistent with an intact ASPS unit…" the voice continued from the comm.

  "Jeeeves, I confirm such a unit. Options?"

  "Evacuate immediately. General use explosives slow them down; the most effective resistance, aside from vaporization, is placing obstructions in their way or dropping things on them. When first mobilized they are methodical unless one triggers a self-defense program…"

  "The control." Agent ter'Fendil was beside him. "They will destroy the planet. Give me the control."

  Val Con looked at him, seeing honest fear in the Agent's eyes. "Can they be turned off?"

  "There is a resting state, yes."

  From the hallway outside, screams and the sounds of rending.

  Val Con handed Agent ter'Fendil the control wand.

  The old gent was settled in the autodoc. Miri leaned against the unit, feeling a kind of hum in her bones, which was probably the 'doc working, and which she shouldn't have noticed at all.

  Am arm's length away, Anthora yos'Galan slumped in a massively carved chair, eyes closed and voice low as she complied with Miri's request to be brought up to speed.

  She was doing a good job, hitting the high points and not wasting any words, and Miri wasn't much liking what she heard.

  "They're surrounded," she said, by way of a sum-up when the low, careful voice came to an end. "And trapped." She bit her lip. "We can bust them out, but we're gonna need coords for that room. Think you can work with Jeeves and figure it?"

  Anthora shook her head. "Going in, the Tree provided the path. Ren Zel showed me the way out."

  Right. The hum from the 'doc was making her twitchy. Miri straightened out of her lean and looked down at the kid in the chair, hating what she was about to ask.

  "So, you can get the Tree to provide a path back in, right? And this time, we'll rig you up with a findme, and—"

  Anthora opened her eyes. Silver-blue, like Shan's, wide-spaced and dreamy-looking—which Shan's weren't. "Val Con said, if I got to safety, to stay there."

  Miri sighed. "Yeah, well. Val Con says a lot of stupid things, especially where it bears on somebody he cares about maybe getting hurt. Figures he's tough enough to take his licks and ours, too. Also figures he's fast enough to outrun most common trouble. Sometimes, he's right; sometimes, he's lucky. This time, he needs help. That's us."

  "You don't understand," Anthora said. "Val Con said, if I got to safety, to stay there. I cannot return."

  Miri closed her eyes, counted to ten, and tried it again. "Val Con's half of one good delm." She reached inside her shirt and brought the Ring up on its cord, so the kid could see it. "I'm the other half. I'll make it an order, if I have to."

  Anthora shook her head. 'You do not understand," she repeated. "Val Con—I am forbidden. He has this ability. I cannot return."

  "I just saw you walk through a wall" Miri started—and blinked, as various memories from a young adulthood that was absolutely not hers unfolded, neatly, before her mind's eye.

  "You're talking dramliza talent," she said to Anthora's soft silver eyes. "He can tell you no and make it stick."

  "He can do it to Priscilla, too," Anthora offered helpfully.

  "Great," Miri said, thinking that if there were one person in the universe who had to be a dramliza-brake, of course it would be—

  "Miri." Jeeves' voice flowed out of the room speakers. "You are needed in the control room. A situation is developing."

  The last charge was laid; the last timer set.

  Val Con dropped out of the repair hatch to the floor below, counting in his head.

  Six minutes before the charges blew, burying the ASPS unit in rubble. Three minutes from his location to the rendezvous point. Two minutes to the surface.

  Plenty of time.

  "Lord Pat Rin, your timing is impeccable, sir," Jeeves said—and surely, Pat Rin thought, it was an artifact of the transmission that yos'Galan's butler sounded breathless? "We have a situation. Stand by, of your goodness, while I ascertain…"

  There was silence, though the connect light remained steady. Pat Rin recruited himself to patience which was very shortly rewarded.

  "Working," Jeeves announced. "You will understand that control of the planetary defense net resides under the Captain's hand during this present time of emergency."

  Pat Rin all but smiled. "Ah, does it? That will certainly expedite matters, should it become necessary to fire upon the planet. However—"

  "Precisely," the robot said, cutting him off ruthlessly. "It is exactly the subject of firing upon the planet that must now be addressed. The nature of the fleet you chose to field dictates your task. It will shortly be necessary to fire upon Solcintra City. Coordinates and ranging will be supplied."

  Necessary to fire upon Solcintra? Pat Rin closed his eyes. He had, of course, known that it might come to firing upon the homeworld—why else had he brought destroyers with him? Truth told, he had pinned his hope on the Council of Clans, that the all-too-public crying of Balance would flush the Department of the Interior onto the surface, where it might be dealt with as any other transgressor against the Code.

  "Lord Pat Rin?"

  "One moment," he managed, holding up a hand that the robot could not see. "Jeeves, how is it necessary that we fire upon Solcintra, now? There has been no time for the Council to speak, nor time for the Department of the Interior to make answer…"

  "The Department has made answer," Jeeves said. "Certain intelligence reports, confirmed by direct observation of trusted parties, indicate that the Department of the Interior has deployed timonium powered weapons capable of overwhelming anything that Liad may bring against them on the ground. The planetary defense net is unable—by its nature—to effect an attack against a target situated upon the planet." There was a pause, then Jeeves continued, hurriedly.

  "It is my estimate that a failure to destroy these weapons in short order will lead to plan
etary disaster. In fact, it is necessary to fire upon the planet, bringing destruction to a portion of the city, in order to preserve the greater part. Your vessels are uniquely fitted to this task. Dutiful Passage, for instance, may only deploy a broad beam—far more destructive than those precision cutting units borne by your fleet."

  "There are people in that city!" Pat Rin snapped.

  "There are. Evacuation has been sounded. I expect confirmation from teams shortly. In the meantime, steps are being taken to contain the targets." Another pause, then, with a gentleness a robot could certainly never feel—

  "It is our intention to destroy as small an area as possible. However, we dare not err by the application of too little force. People will die, despite the call for evacuation and the best efforts of the teams. But more people will die, if the enemy is not destroyed."

  Pat Rin bowed his head.

  "I understand. I will require data."

  "Uploading," Jeeves said promptly.

  Diglon Rifle waited patiently for his next target. So far he had taken seven shots with this light rifle borrowed from Commander Carmody's troop; he felt confident of five hits.

  Nearby, Commander Call-Me-Liz-Lizardi was speaking quietly into a comm unit. His duty was to guard her and to watch for breakouts at the door which was, by now, well shattered, and partly filled with bodies.

  Their position was excellent—they had a large stone monument for cover when they stood, and a stone wall, half buried on the other side with soil, for cover when they sniped…

  Hazenthull Explorer had not shot as much as he, but perhaps with more accuracy. The commander had told them to conserve their ammunition, and to be prepared to act as rearguard if need be—and to be rearguard with such as she, whose exploits were writ on books and worlds forever, such was a fate a solider could embrace.

  There came another one of those slight shakes of the ground, and a vibration that was longer. He was leaning against the monument, his face feeling the stone—and…there was a shake, a—

  "Explorer!" he called. "Something happens here!"