by S. N. Lewitt
Rasidov dipped sharply to show them the resthouse and the Friday mosque, close enough to each other to walk. Then he banked hard again and they were going north-northeast, out of the heavily populated sector and into a rocky crevasse deeper than any of the others.
"This is where the cave is," Rasidov announced. "I got the beacon readings on it dead straight."
But there was no break in the rose and crystal rock, no black open mouth that announced a terrorist hiding place. "Try deep sonar," the Nada Solis/3 suggested. "It's the meter on the left side of the altimeter."
Rasidov brought the flyer down low and slow, so he was deep inside a long defile.
It was not a pretty ride from down here, Lentzer thought. He knew how dangerous this kind of flying was. Those crystal cliffs, so pretty at sunset, were hazardous, their shine treacherous, their nearness frightening. Then Lentzer detected a ruffle in the side of a mountain. He chuckled. A painted screen over the mouth of the cave was all it was. Rasidov made the pass, popped out of the canyon to turn, and then dove directly for where the readings indicated the opening was.
Instinct screamed impact. Lentzer flinched. He saw the Nada Solis/1 go white. And then the rock before them shredded and burned.
"That camouflage was better than most," said Rasidov with a coolness that didn't fool anyone. "Good thing I trusted these instruments."
"Are you going to be able to get us out of here?" Lentzer asked Rasidov as he began to release his protective webbing.
The Navigator gave him the standard damn-all smile that they all learned when they got their ratings, like the mythic Old Earth Masons with their secret signs. "It'd be tricky. We might need to find something else."
"Any suggestions?" Lentzer asked. He clambered onto the wing beside the Navigator, his eyes straining to adjust to the darkness.
"Something surface might not be a bad idea," said Rasidov, stretching. "They'll be looking for a flyer now."
"So they will," said Lentzer.
"Well, we're not under attack," the Nada Solis/2 observed as she led the three of them out of the flyer. "This cavern appears to be unoccupied except by us."
"Without lights, who can tell?" Rasidov asked. The only illumination came from beneath the canopy of the flyer.
"Do we use lights?" asked the Nada Solis/1. "Lights could alert the enemy."
"There are lights under the wings. That ought to be enough to let us see our way," said Lentzer, and ducked back into the flyer to switch the underside lights on.
They were alone in a chamber so large that the light never quite made it to the walls. The rock floor was unfinished.
"This is where they held us all," the Mromrosi said. "I remember. It wasn't like a real place."
"So where is everyone?" Lentzer demanded. He fingered his stunner nervously. He hated this kind of waiting.
"There are probably more chambers beyond," the Nada Solis/1 said as if she were reading from a book. "We've got rope and phosphormarkers. I suggest we start going."
"As I recall," said the Mromrosi as he turned peacock-blue, "there are a number of tunnels and caverns beyond this place. The ones to your left are used for living quarters, the ones to the right are for supplies."
"If I had to say, I'd think we came in the back way," the Nada Solis/3 remarked. "They probably don't use this area often. We have the advantage there."
"And I'd bet that landing shook this whole cliff hard enough that they're ready to come right at us," Lentzer countered. "We're bound to have set off an alarm or two."
"In which case, we are prepared to fight," said the Nada Solis/1.
Lentzer realized they had to get out of the cavern. Remaining where they were only made it easier for the locals to find them. "Let's find some real cover."
The Mromrosi bounced up to him. "Follow me," he said. "I have been here before and I know the way."
"Are you sure?" asked the Nada Solis/3.
"Of course. Those of my species never forget. Anything." He hopped away from them. "Come."
Lentzer looked at the others and shrugged. "Why not?" he said, and set off after the Mromrosi down a narrow tunnel.
Not far from the cavern the tunnel divided, and the left fork showed more promise. Here there were lights, widely spaced and dim; the main back tunnel swallowed up the meager illumination. Lentzer kept close to the wall, away from the light. The first door was two or three li away, and Lentzer couldn't read the Arabic script in the plate next to the lock. He motioned Rasidov on ahead.
The Navigator took a quick look and shook his head. They went on.
Something was wrong. Lentzer knew it. He could feel the wrongness in his bones. The installation had had more than enough time to respond to the flyer's invasion. Either there was no one here and they were missing the mark, or they were walking into a trap. That reminded him of booby traps, and of explosives primed to close the tunnels and trap them underground to suffocate.
They passed two more doors, each one rejected by Rasidov. The Navigator didn't risk the sound of even a whisper to tell them what the places were they passed. It was all too quiet.
And then they saw a blue door, the first that had been painted and not left gray. The Mromrosi bounded toward it, three of his eight feet pointing, and his curls glowing a luminous lime green.
There was enough noise that they could hear it, shouting and trampling. Lentzer and Rasidov pushed themselves hard against the wall. The Nada Solis took up positions, /3 on one side of the door and /1 and /2 on the other. One of them blasted the lock and kicked in the barrier.
The Nada Solis entered in proper stance, covering each other and the action in the room. Lentzer and Rasidov hung behind.
The ruckus in the cave was so overwhelming that the occupants didn't even notice at first that they were under attack.
It was an ordinary work center—extraordinary in this place—terminals and vids and chairs in modular groupings for whatever task currently took precedence. The people running around, screaming, pointing at someone quivering behind a partition, all had the look of harried bureaucrats, not the grim purpose of terrorists.
"Looks like this is their headquarters, all right," Lentzer muttered to no one in particular.
"Freeze," all three Nada Solis yelled in unison.
Heads swung around, disbelieving. The three clones spread out to cover the crowd. There were at least fifteen people there.
"You're crazy," one of them said, an older man wearing a red checked headcloth and holding a sheaf of reports in his right hand.
"We've got the guns," the Nada Solis/3 said laconically.
And then Lentzer realized that the man had been speaking to the person behind the partition and not to the Nada Solis at all. "You there. Come out!" He let Rasidov translate for him.
A head popped over the top of the partition, dark hair and wide eyes. It was Tek. He smiled broadly and waved to his teammates. Then he tossed something very small at them. Rasidov caught it with ease. It was a data capsule.
"Tek, are you all right?" Lentzer asked.
The kitchen clerk's hands appeared on the edge of the partition and he hauled himself over, away from the group that had him surrounded. The man with the headdress blinked. "I have been busy," he said, beaming at them.
"Okay," Lentzer said very slowly, giving everyone time to realize that they were overpowered if not outnumbered. "I want to talk to whoever's in charge. Call him down here now."
The man with the reports froze. Lentzer gave him a moment to think about it. It was a moment too long.
The opposite door, the proper front door, burst open to reveal Yosinero at the head of a group of armed Grands at the ready.
Lentzer's eyes met Yosinero's. Lentzer smiled.
"So they got themselves a new hostage, huh, Yosinero? Is that your story?" Lentzer asked lightly. "You probably were expecting snow more than us."
Three Nada Solis against seven armed Grands were unfair odds. The clones reacted before their opponents realized that
anything had begun. Their stunners were activated before the Grands could release their safeties.
The Zamalahi in the cave dropped to the floor, hands clapped to their heads.
The Nada Solis/2 took a running jump and landed with her feet in one of the Grands' chest, bowling him into Yosinero. Staggering, the Strategy Marshal started to run but he had been living the good life at the Hub too long; the Nada Solis was faster.
The other Nada Solis were drawing most of the fire, using chairs and office partitions and mobile glare shields to deflect the energy shots of the Grands. Rasidov laid down covering fire, and took out at least two of the defenders on stun himself.
Lentzer kept the Zamalahi pinned down. He wanted no native casualties.
The Mromrosi sat on Yosinero.
The door was open. There would be more troops coming down the tunnel. And there was no way out without a dangerous retreat.
The Nada Solis had put most of the honor guard to sleep; they weren't even breathing hard. They formed a wedge and took the front door into the heavy-use corridor.
Lentzer followed and Rasidov brought up the rear covering Yosinero as the Mromrosi got off him.
"Please, this way," Tek said, appearing beside them and pointing in the opposite direction to the one the Nada Solis were taking.
The clones grimaced. They were obviously planning to mop up any armed terrorists or Grands they'd missed in the initial melee. But Tek was pulling them away.
Yosinero looked aghast.
Lentzer motioned to Tek with his stunner. "Take the front." He signaled the Nada Solis. "Guard the rear."
They were not pleased, but fell in as ordered.
Tek led at a walk. He seemed unaware of the danger around them.
Lentzer looked back over his shoulder. "One of you Solis come up front," he said. "Sweep the tunnel."
"Oh, I don't think we have to worry," Tek said brightly. "I sealed all the locks and changed the filtration cycle on the air conditioning. The sealed sectors are going to be short of oxygen for half an hour. Everyone there will be sleepy, I think. And we're going up to the hangar now. The Strategy Marshal's private flyer will accommodate us. It's larger than the flyer you came in."
Yosinero swore. "You can stop the charade now," Yosinero said to Tek, his voice hard. "And you." He rounded on Lentzer. "Let me go and I won't have your pension along with your career."
"Actually," said Lentzer, relishing the moment, "I think it's the other way around. This time I will have your career."
Their arrival at Kinderkinyo was almost absurd: a Grand Harriers Marshal's flyer coming to land between the Broadswords and Bombards, the mission team disembarking, the Mromrosi, a gaudy shade of rose, leading the way.
"What in pogging—" began Executive Officer Yuen as Lentzer requested permission to come aboard.
"Don't tell the Line Commander just yet," Lentzer recommended in high good humor. "He might decide to take some action."
An override came from the nearest Bombard. "For what reason are you escorting our Strategy Marshal?"
"Because we caught him with his hand in the goodies," said Lentzer.
There was a hesitation from the Bombard, then the hailer blared, "This ought to be referred to the Hub."
"Oh, it will be," said Lentzer in firm satisfaction. "Yuen, will you please let us aboard, before the Strategy Marshal tries something very stupid?"
The Senior Bunter arrived at the gangway before Executive Officer Yuen. It looked at Yosinero and said, "How pleasant to see you back here again, Strategy Marshal."
"Yes, isn't it?" Lentzer answered for him.
"No, Lentzer, you're wrong," Yosinero said very coolly. In the flight back to the Alliance ships, he had been very thoughtful. "I admit, it won't look wonderful for us, you rescuing me from the Voice of the Hidden Imam. But you have nothing on me at all. Only my word against yours. And who do you think the Twelve or anyone at the Hub is going to believe, you or me? The washed-up drunk, or someone whose name has already been put before the Twelve for consideration?"
The Mromrosi rocked from side to side. "They would believe me."
Yosinero laughed. It was a very ugly sound. "Your word? Against any human?"
"The Emerging Planet Fairness Court is believed," said the Mromrosi very seriously.
"There's nothing I can't explain," Yosinero said, straightening his back and looking at Yuen.
"I do not think so," Tek said happily. "Gregori, do you have the capsule I gave you? Why don't you put it on the vids for the Grands?"
Rasidov inserted the capsule and keyed the main screen. It looked incomprehensible to Lentzer, all those columns of numbers and dates, account codes, and trade receipts.
Yosinero saw the display and lunged at Tek. The Nada Solis/2 stopped him with a well-placed kick to the stomach. She didn't even leave her seat to deliver it. Yosinero collapsed on the deck like a flat balloon.
"No doubt the Fleet Commodore will find this interesting," said the Mromrosi, all beige and soft-spoken.
Tek smiled pleasantly. "It is the record of Marshal Yosinero's payments to the Voice of the Hidden Imam. There were some other interesting things there, too, so I just copied it all. Embezzlement from the Twelve, shifting funds, investing and skimming the interest, all there. Including the slave trade." At that his face changed. "Slave trade," he repeated. "On six planets. Two of them in the Alliance."
"A clerk. A damned Quartermaster's clerk," Yosinero repeated, dazed. "You're nobody. You couldn't have."
"Oh, yes, it was hidden very well," Tek said amiably. "But then, the Quartermaster's Internal Investigation Accounting Division specializes in exactly this kind of trouble. I admit that I am very junior in that department, but I suppose the Division has faith in me."
"A pogging junior Inspector-General," said Lentzer in false commiseration. "Ain't it disappointing?" His grin belied his words.
Jaanu Lentzer's retirement dinner was Full Dress One, Invitation Only. Three members of the Twelve showed up, along with several Semper Fleet Masters, three Mromrosi and two Wammgalloz from the Emerging Planet Fairness Court.
The dinner had been catered by the Quartermasters, of course, but this was not the usual watch-and-handshake meal. This dinner started with Xiaoqing dumpling-and-egg-flower noodle soup, had courses of lamb and fish and rice, and ended with a lavish display of Hartzheim tortes. Even the most exclusive caterer in the Hub couldn't readily match the glories of the dinner.
The speakers were lavish in their praise, all mentioning how Jaanu Lentzer had been planning to retire to a farm on Hartzheim seventeen years earlier, and had only been convinced to stay on until the situation between the Grands and Petits and the Twelve had stabilized. That was the official version, along with the assumption that Lentzer had been working for the Twelve ever since his first clash with Yosinero.
Jaanu Lentzer listened to the speeches and tried not to be too cynical. He saw their faces at the table, Rasidov now wearing the stars of a Katana Line Commander, the Nada Solis actually behaving with some manners, M'kaba shaking her fashionably coiffed head and waving away an inquiry.
The Mromrosi was at the podium now—standing on it, in fact. His curls were a glossy chestnut color. "Let me say that was a privilege to serve with Group Leader—now Sub-Marshal—Lentzer on the Kinderkinyo. I learned a great deal thanks to Lentzer. I will miss him now that he is retiring from the Petits."
There was applause that brought Lentzer back to the moment at hand. Someone introduced him. He rose and went to the podium. "I really don't know what to say," he began. "I'm grateful to all of you for being here, and I want to thank each and every one of you for coming."
"So where do you plan to go first as a private citizen?" M'kaba asked, smiling. "Standby?"
"Standby," Lentzer echoed. "Because of Standby Hooch, you mean? No, I don't think so. But not Hartzheim, either." He looked over the gathering and decided that just this once he would tell them the truth. "I'm starting my own firm. One dedicated to v
etting merchants. So situations like this one won't have as easy a time in future." He squared his shoulders, feeling less like a fool with every passing second. "This isn't for the Alliance, it's for my own peace of mind."
He couldn't figure out why they all applauded.