The remaining seven planes crisscrossed the sky in a cunning pattern of aerobatics, hoping to confuse the Visitor pilots enough to make up for the alien vessels’ superior firepower and create an opening for shooting a couple of air-to-ground missiles at the drilling platform.
“Hey, look!” Lavi shouted, his finger tracking one jet that ducked impossibly under the Visitor defenders. Two other planes tried to provide covering cannon fire as the lone fighter dove to ground-hugging altitude.
Abdul pumped one fist into the air with short, powerful strokes, urging the plane toward its target. Gamel simply stared, then uttered a short prayer ending with “Allah protect you. ...”
At his last word a laser bolt flashed from a pursuing skyfighter and sliced into the K’fir jet at midfuselage. Two explosions shredded the plane into three distinct parts, and they fell into the Gulf with grotesque clumsiness, like graceful birds shot in mid-flight and tumbling to the ground.
The remaining six jets kicked in their afterburners and fled the combat zone with astonishing speed. Lavi’s entire body sagged, and his two companions physically held him up for a moment until they were sure he had the strength to stand after witnessing the stunning defeat.
“I’m . . . I’m okay,” he mumbled.
“Are you sure?” asked Gamel.
Abdul spoke softly. “You Israelis aren’t used to losing.”
Lavi shrugged. “I guess not. This was a big one to lose.”
“We haven’t lost yet,” Gamel said, his square jaw jutting out in determination.
“Well, if we intend to win, this was a strange way to start,” said Lavi.
Hannah Donnenfeld opened her eyes, took a quick glance around, then shut them again. She counted to three, though she knew the gesture was futile, then took another peek. The only familiar sight in the dim illumination was Neville More, sitting in a chair across the narrow room. Hannah found herself reclined on a firm sleeping pallet, and she sat up for a better view of her surroundings. The walls were generally featureless, except for some sort of electronic-security control panel near the doorway.
“How are you feeling, Dr. Donnenfeld?”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
“Ah, yes—The Wizard of Oi. I see your sense of humor is intact,” said Neville, offering a reassuring smile.
“I’d be just as happy if I never saw that grin of yours again, Neville.”
He spread his hands in an approximation of apology. “Yes, well, I suppose I can understand that.”
“Presumably, I’m in Diana’s Mother Ship?”
“Good guess.”
“If I’m being charged for the room,” she said with a disdainful wave, “tell them the accommodations stink.” “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do about that—” “Booked solid, are they?”
“And as for the fee, Diana does plan to exact some payment for her hospitality.”
Getting to her feet, Donnenfeld realized she was still dressed in her favorite flannel nightgown and plaid robe. “I hope she doesn’t mind my informal attire.”
“Couldn’t be helped, Dr. Donnenfeld. We had to leave Brook Cove in a bit of a hurry.” He watched her circle the room, examining the ceiling vents, the security panel at the door, the seams in the walls.
“First time I’ve been in one of these ships,” she explained. “I do hope I can get the grand tour.”
“Somehow I don’t think Diana will be able to grant that wish.”
She turned slowly, fixing him with a stem, unwavering gaze. “Just one question, Neville. Why?”
He leaned back casually. “Oh, I’m being very well paid by the Visitors.”
“I don’t think you’re doing this just for money. Not your style, son.”
“I’ve become extremely important to them. Downright indispensable, in fact. I’ve done the bulk of the computer setup on this oil project. They recognize my genius, even if my so-called colleagues never did.”
“How did a genius miss the mix-up between crude oil and refined?”
He waggled a finger at her. “Ah, not my fault. Diana has this disruptive habit of keeping certain things to herself. One of her great weaknesses, but then, no one’s perfect, eh? Had I had the complete access to data and plans that I’d asked for, that little oversight wouldn’t have occurred, I’d wager.”
“You planning to tell her that? How does she take to being shown the error of her ways? Not well, from what I hear.” “Perhaps, perhaps. But our relationship is somewhat different. I’m not one of her sycophantic toadies. I regard myself as an outside consultant. More equals than anything else.” Hannah nodded. “Of course. After all, you’re not one of her officers. Not yet, at any rate. Do they commission humans into their ranks?”
“I’m not one of them, Doctor,” he said, glaring.
Her mouth curled into a half smile. “Little sensitive, are we? Neville, none of us gets the recognition we think we deserve in our heart of hearts. We all get slighted, all have to put up with the Philistines who don’t appreciate us. That’s just the way it is. Do you expect me to believe you can’t handle it?”
He stood suddenly, looming over her, his English reserve blasted away by cold rage. “There’s a bloody big difference between the odd slight and a calculated, invidious plot hatched by jealous, small-minded worms,” he snarled. “And you’re the last one to downgrade the value of recognition by one’s peers, you with your Nobel Prize and your honorary degrees. ” Hannah sat calmly on the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes locked with More’s. “I’d be doing the same things regardless of any prizes I might have been lucky enough to win.” “Yes, well, we’re not all saints,” he ridiculed. “Some of us crave a tad more than inner satisfaction. And I don’t want any holier-than-thou pity. Got a bellyful of that after my first company folded. Even then, people were just waiting in line to stab me in the back, kill my career. And when they thought they’d done it, you know what they did? They didn’t even have the honest decency to kick me while I was down. That I could’ve understood. Instead, they stood over me like I was a corpse at a wake. ‘Oh, poor Neville, such a bright lad, too bad he’s got this fatal flaw of thinking he’s better than the rest of us.’ Well, I’ve got a clue for those bastards—for all of you. I am better.”
Before Donnenfeld could counter his tirade, the door slid open. Diana and two guards entered, accompanied by Lydia. The commander extended a hand in greeting, then withdrew it when Hannah met it with icy indifference. “Dr. Donnenfeld, I’ve waited a long time for this.”
While Diana spoke, Lydia tapped a code into the security panel just inside the door. Hannah was startled to see the wall behind her part in the middle, revealing what had to be one of Diana’s high-tech torture chambers—a straight-backed seat with restraint clasps for arms and feet, and a metallic ring that could lower to fit around the victim’s head. A free-standing control console was placed to one side.
“As a fellow scientist,” Diana continued, “I admire you a great deal. I realize you may find that hard to imagine, but it’s true.”
“Thanks,” Donnenfeld said simply.
“That’s why the thought of having to torture you displeases me. Neville has told me that you’ve brilliantly analyzed the flaw in my plan. All this unpleasantness might have been avoided but for an error Neville made. ” Her features tightened as she turned to the Englishman. “Did you remove the information on Dr. Donnenfeld’s solution from the Brook Cove computers before you left?”
“You know the answer to that, Diana,” he shot back. “The answer is no,” she said to Donnenfeld. “Because he inserted a virus into your computer system to sabotage it— before removing the data I wanted.”
“Don’t go blaming poor Neville.” Hannah was amused. “I don’t put much stock in computers as a substitute for old-fashioned thoughtfulness. The computers didn’t contain much that would’ve helped you, Diana.”
“I told her that,” said Neville amiably, “but she didn’t believe me. Yo
u’re such a doubting Thomas, Diana. It’ll be your downfall some day. Dr. Donnenfeld is no ordinary scientist. ”
The Visitor commander flashed a warning glare at him. “Dr. Donnenfeld, the knowledge you carry in your brain is something I need. I’ll get it, with or without your cooperation. With your cooperation, this process will be much easier for me and considerably less painful for you.”
Donnenfeld puckered her lips and made a rude noise. Diana’s glowering reaction delighted her no end.
The guards in the starship corridor stepped aside and saluted as the door behind them snapped open with a hiss. Diana stormed past them and disappeared around the curving bulkhead. A moment later Neville and Lydia came out of the interrogation cell. The door shut behind them.
“We have to talk to her,” said the Englishman.
Lydia laughed ironically. “Oh no we don’t. The last thing Diana wants right now is for me to tell her she’s wrong.” “Well, somebody’s got to tell her.”
“Be my guest.” Lydia pivoted, flipping her blond mane over one shoulder, and walked away. “Keep the prisoner under visual surveillance. Report any unusual activity to me,” she called back to the guards.
Neville fortified his resolve and strode off, then stopped and sidled back toward the guards. “Er, which way to Diana’s quarters?”
The guards traded insolent glances. “Idiot human,” one whispered. Then, turning to Neville: “I’ll escort you.” “Uh, thanks, mate.”
“Rather presumptuous of you to come here, Neville,” said Diana after the helpful guard had deposited More at her cabin hatch, then scuttled away.
More helped himself to a low-slung lounge chair. “Not at all. You’ve got an incredible scientific resource in that cell, and it’s my duty to stop you before you destroy it with your heavy-handed torture techniques.”
“We questioned her for two hours. When she answered at all, she was vulgar, flippant or both.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expect nothing—I demand information. And I’ll get it any way I can.”
“You won’t get it by killing her. You heard Lydia’s report. Hannah Donnenfeld is old, and she has a heart ailment. She’s also stubborn and stiff-necked, and the power intensity you’d need to break her resistance will surely kill her. And then you’ll have nothing.”
“She’ll talk before she’ll die.”
“Don’t underestimate her like you do other humans. She’s not afraid to die, Diana.”
“Maybe 1 overestimated you, Neville.”
“Look, Diana, I’m not one of your officers. You can’t simply shut me up with a word.”
She stood suddenly, her anger flaring. “I can have you killed with a word, human. You’d do well to remember that fact of life. I thought you were reliable in addition to being brilliant. Now I see the familiar colors of a disloyal coward instead of a trusted ally.”
Moving close to him, her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “You continue to live at my whim, Mr. More. My ship is not a democracy. You have no vote in my decisions. If you disagree, keep it to yourself. If you cross me”—she paused for chilling effect—“I may lose my temper. And if I lose my temper, you could lose your life. Now get out.”
He flinched as she spun imperiously. She touched a button on her desk panel and the cabin hatch opened. He took the cue and left.
Lydia already had Donnenfeld in the interrogation apparatus when Diana entered the chamber.
“Is everything ready? We’ve got no time to waste,” she said, an impatient edge in her tone.
Lydia nodded, then pointed to a gray-haired male officer with olive skin and a medical corps armband. “This is Stavros. He was just recently transferred from the Mother Ship over the central Mediterranean. Fortunately, he’s an expert on human physiology.”
Diana gave him a measuring look. “Doctor, have you looked at this human’s status chart?”
He nodded deferentially. “Yes, Commander. Suffering from atherosclerosis typical of her age. Also, some scar damage to the heart muscle itself, indicative of a myocardial infarction. And a valve has been replaced. In my opinion, there is a seventy percent probability she will die during standard interrogation procedures. ’ ’
“Your opinion was not solicited, Doctor.”
“You have yourself a problem, from what I gather. Eh, Diana?” said Donnenfeld tauntingly. “I die, this information dies with me.”
Diana laughed shortly. “You exaggerate your importance, Doctor. My scientists are working on the solution to the problem you so generously discovered for us. I have complete confidence they’ll solve it very soon. If you share your data with us, so much the better. But even if you don’t, this project will move forward.”
Lydia took her commander aside. “Diana, at least begin at low power. Stavros says her survival is much more likely if we have a little patience. And you and I both know our scientists aren’t anywhere near a solution.”
“Patience doesn’t save time, Lydia dear.”
“But it often wins wars, Diana—dear.”
“Teatime’s just not the same without Hannah,” Mitchell said, his face a melancholy mask. Pete, Lauren Stewart, Sari, and Donna, one of the young computer experts, were with him in the underground lounge. They were gathered around Dr. Donnenfeld’s favorite china teapot, a forlorn plume of steam drifting from its spout.
Sari suddenly jumped up from the couch, stomped across the room, and whirled on the group. “Dammit, Mitchell! She’s not dead!”
His basset hound eyes opened wide. “I know that.” “Then don’t talk like she is.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was,” Mitchell said, sounding wounded.
“Well you are. Just stop it, huh?”
His voice sharpened. “I said I was sorry. Geez, everything turns into an argument with you.”
“I’m not arguing. I just don’t see the point in bringing everybody’s morale down to where—”
“I wasn’t—”
Lauren raised a hand and cut in. “Hey, slow down here!”
The verbal swordplay broke off, and she took the opening. “I know what you’re going through. Really. Remember that my father was missing inside a Mother Ship for months during the first invasion. So I know the frustration and the anger. I tried to chop Pete’s head off a few times back then.”
Pete nodded. “I can vouch for that. The thing to help you through it is that we’re all worried about Hannah.”
Sari lowered her head and breathed deeply. “You’re right.” She touched Mitchell’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I’ll try to be more upbeat.”
“But it’s so damned—-frustrating, just sitting here doing nothing,” Sari blurted, pacing from one wall to the other.
“But we are doing something, Sari,” Pete said, trying to be comforting. “We’re doing what we can.”
“That’s right,” Lauren agreed. “There are lots of government and resistance people out there looking for leads. Something’ll break, and when it does, we’ll be ready to move.”
They heard a throat-clearing sound from the doorway, then a familiar British accent. “You’ve got your break,” said Neville More.
Astonished heads turned to see him standing there with Kenny, the Japanese computer master. More was dressed in the crisp red uniform of a Visitor captain.
“I went topside to take a little walk,” Kenny explained, “and I saw a lizard shuttle coming right at me. 1 started to run back to pull the alarm when this guy gets out and calls my name.”
Her face drained of color and emotion, Sari stepped up to More and slapped him hard across the face. Pete leaped over Lauren’s outstretched legs to stop any continued pummeling Sari might have in mind.
“Thanks, mate,” said Neville as he rubbed his jaw. “Frankly, mate, I’d like to finish the job myself. But first I’d like to know what the hell you’re doing here.”
Neville spotted the tea. “Mind if I have a cup?” He didn’t wait for pe
rmission, just poured some for himself and sat a safe distance away from Sari in a single chair.
“If I were you,” Pete prompted, “I’d start talking.”
“Ah, yes. I can understand your curiosity. First, when I last saw the good Dr. Donnenfeld, she was alive and well and giving Diana fits. She’d just gotten through two hours of interrogation with flying colors.”
“If Diana tortures her,” Sari spat, rising from the couch, “that’ll be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you.”
Pete pulled her back down. “Sit!”
At first tensed for another assault, Neville then relaxed—a little. “When I left the Mother Ship, Hannah hadn’t been tortured yet.”
“When you left,” said Lauren. “Why did you leave?” “Let’s just say that Diana and I had a parting of the ways. I’ve never been much for taking orders, especially when they’re wrong. So here I am.”
“You son of a bitch,” Mitchell growled, his puffy cheeks quivering. “You have the balls to come back here after what you did?”
“Pardon me, but I didn’t expect to be greeted with open arms, Mitchell. However, I did think you’d be interested in getting Hannah back before Diana kills her.”
“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” Lauren wanted to know.
“Oh, I tried. Believe me, Miss Stewart. But Diana had just begun a second round of questioning. I couldn’t get to her. With your help, I think we can get her out. Interested?” Mitchell’s eyes burned with cold fury. “Why should we trust you? You could be here on Diana’s orders, laying a trap to snare the rest of us. A few more resistance prizes would net you a few more pats on the head from the top lizard, wouldn’t it?” he taunted.
Neville’s mouth twitched. “I don’t do anything for pats on the head—get that straight,” he said, shoving Mitchell with a jab to the shoulder. “I’ve got no regrets for the people I screwed, my so-called colleagues who’ve done their best to destroy me over the years.”
“We never did anything to you,” Sari said, her voice a confused mix of personal pain and professional pride.
“Yes, well, a few innocents sometimes have to get caught in the crossfire.”
path to conquest Page 14