by Eric Flint
CHAPTER 34
As commander of the victorious tendrilless forces, Jem Lorry had no need to disguise who he truly was. Not anymore. Now that his meddling father was out of the way, now that Jem had command of all the invading armies, he returned among the lowly humans like a conquering hero.
He came alone to the summit meeting; it was his way of showing that he did not consider President Gray or his pathetic resistance cell to be a threat. And he did not intend any "peaceful negotiations," as Altus Lorry and the Tendrilless Authority had suggested.
While his swift expedition was on its way, John Petty had transmitted a subsidiary message. "I'll guarantee your safety, Lorry. You and I both want this meeting to go the same way. Once Gray and the slans are out of the way, we can divide up the spoils."
The secret police chief was a fool to believe that, but Jem allowed him to be a fool. Petty was so good at it.
He landed his solo ship in front of Granny's ranch house, ruining part of her vegetable garden. Jem wore a full formal uniform of the tendrilless army, a dark blue shirt fastened with crystalline buttons, trousers with gold piping and crisp creases. Raising his chin, he stepped away from his ship and looked coolly at those who came to meet him. He did not bother to offer a gesture of respect to the deposed President. He had spent too many years serving Kier Gray, offering his counsel and biting back anger when his own plans were ignored. "So, Gray? I've come representing the slans."
"The tendrilless slans," Gray said.
Jem looked down his pointed nose. "It seems we are the only slans left."
Petty came out on the porch to stand beside the President. He looked meaningfully at Jem, who gave a slight nod, as the slan hunter seemed to expect.
When Jem spotted Kathleen Layton, he assessed her with his hungry eyes. At one time he had desired her greatly, but the shine was gone. The slan girl looked much less attractive than he remembered—her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken, her eyes red from crying. He wondered how he could ever have found her to be beautiful. Perhaps he had wanted her primarily because she was forbidden. It must have been just a passing and meaningless physical attraction.
When Granny ushered them inside her home, Jem looked around for the others he expected to be there. He could easily handle John Petty, as well as President Gray himself. But even his foolish father had recognized that Jommy Cross was one of the greatest threats. "Where's Cross?" It was a pity; he had wanted to catch all the rats in one trap.
"Jommy's dead." Kathleen used her bitter tone to slash at him, as if she blamed Jem for whatever trouble the young slan had gotten into. He wouldn't believe the death of Jommy Cross, however, until he saw the troublemaker's body with his own eyes.
Granny had set up her formal dining table, complete with a checked cloth and a vase of fresh flowers. With a clatter of dishes, she brought out small dessert plates. "My best china, for the special occasion." Granny frowned at Lorry as she served apple pie, scooping out flaky slices onto the dessert plates. "This was Jommy's favorite." She hesitated a moment, then busied herself. "I've got a pot of fresh coffee percolating. It'll be ready in a few minutes." Before she left the room, she added in a stern voice, "Mr. Lorry, I don't care how powerful you think you are, but you are a guest in Granny's house, and you will behave with respect. I don't trust anyone who invades my planet."
Lorry could barely hide his amusement. "A conqueror of a world can do whatever he likes, ma'am."
"Granny's got a shotgun in the closet if you get out of hand. Don't you forget that." She walked off into the kitchen.
Petty quickly sat down, as eager for the pie as he was for the anticipated double-cross. President Gray took a formal chair at the head of the table and gestured for Jem to sit on the opposite end.
The President still wore the same rumpled suit he'd been wearing during his imprisonment and escape. For this important conference, his protocol attendees consisted of an old woman and his daughter. Kathleen picked up a pen and pad of paper to document any treaty or agreement they negotiated. Jem found it very amusing.
Before Gray could say anything, Jem abruptly began. "We tendrilless have already conquered Earth. I agreed to come here, Mister Gray—" he intentionally refused to used the title of President "—in order to accept your surrender. There's little I can do to save your life now, but perhaps if you cooperate, I can take Kathleen Layton under my special protection." He smiled at her; she glared back.
"The tendrilless have demonstrated superior military strength," Gray admitted. "You worked secretly for years, made your plans, and then launched a surprise attack. No doubt if tendrilless write the history books, you'll portray it as a heroic effort. But there is no need for the violence and bloodshed to continue."
Jem let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe you should review the history books, Gray—the unwritten history. Refresh your memory about what true slans did to humans during the wars, and then what they did to the tendrilless."
"I already explained it to the Tendrilless Authority," Gray said in a brittle voice. "Even the tendrilless will soon begin to give birth to true slan babies again. Must you eradicate us all just for your petty vengeance?"
Thinking he had heard his name, Petty looked up and wiped pie crust crumbs from his mouth.
Jem steepled his fingers. "My father repeated some of your silly fairy tales, but I don't believe any of it. I'm sorry he couldn't be with us." He hadn't touched his pie, thinking it might be poisoned, but then he realized these people would never try such devious means. This pathetic attempt at diplomacy was their only chance. He took a bite and had to admit it was delicious.
"It sounds like you came here to argue rather than negotiate," Gray said sadly.
"I never came here to negotiate. I just wanted to look you in the face one last time before I destroyed you and took over the Earth."
Granny walked in, holding a silver pot. "Coffee, anyone?"
Jem stood, checking the time on his wrist chronometer. "Come with me outside. There's something I want you to see."
Petty jumped to his feet. He thought this was all part of the plan, but the slan hunter would soon learn differently. They would all learn.
Jem had agreed to come in a solo craft, but he had gathered a full squadron of attack ships that would even now be streaking in over this valley. He had no interest in compromises. He didn't need to make any.
As they all stepped out onto the porch, looking up in the open air, Jem could already hear the drone of approaching engines and the arrival of heavy military craft.
CHAPTER 35
Trapped inside the sealed vault in the palace ruins, Jommy leaned back in darkness so thick that he seemed to breathe pitch black each time he inhaled. He could still hear the muffled noises from outside along with Joanna's increasingly urgent questions. "What were you thinking? How are we going to get out of here?"
"Would you rather have let them tear us to pieces?" he asked.
"We had a few weapons, not to mention superior physical strength. We could have made it quite a battle. Those scavengers are cowards at heart."
"We could have killed dozens of them. This way is better. Less bloodshed."
Their voices bounced back and forth in the blackness. "Do you know how many stone-cold corpses I bumped into after you knocked me in here?"
"Two."
"Two and a half. I found the top portion of Mr. Legs out there. I felt his shoulders, ran my hand down his back, and then he just . . . stopped. Like one of those matinee adventure movie serials—to be continued."
"At least you're finding humor in the situation."
"I'd find more humor if I could have a little light and some clean rags to wipe off my hands."
Jommy worked his fingers blindly, fiddling with the small tracker device he still held in his hands. The indicator lights were like the tiny bright eyes of a green lizard. "Considering how dark it is, this is as good as a flashlight."
The first thing he could make out in the faint glow were the pale forms of
the dead bodies. Joanna saw them too. "Oh, yes—much better." Her voice was sarcastic.
They sat together listening as the noises outside gradually faded, the scavengers giving up. Jommy had known the gang members would not stay long, realizing they had no way to break into the shielded laboratory vault. Once he was sure they had gone on to search for other prey, he used the minimal light of his device and his sharp eyesight to rummage around on the floor. He pushed one of the metal shelves aside, moved scattered papers, and rolled an empty chemical bottle away.
"Looking for a deck of playing cards?" Joanna asked. "I'm pretty good at gin rummy."
As he continued to crawl on his hands and knees, he cut his palm on a shard of glass. He had to delay his search while he picked the sharp pieces from his bleeding hand and dabbed it with a rag he found. The bleeding stopped quickly. "Remind me to use your medical pack when we get out of here. No telling what toxic chemicals the secret police might have stored in this laboratory."
Joanna just groaned. "Right. When we get out of here."
Jommy finally found what he was looking for in the corner where the steel wall met the steel floor. His hands wrapped around a smooth cylinder that fit so familiarly within his palm. "Ah, here it is." He felt a rush of pleasure because he had succeeded without relying on his slan powers.
"Did you find a deck of cards?"
"Better. It's what we came here for in the first place. Move our packs out of the way and get behind me. I don't want you in the line of fire."
She moved up behind him, leaning close, perhaps too close. Her voice was right in his ear. "Now I see what you were thinking of all along. Does the weapon ricochet?"
"No." At least he didn't think so. He depressed the firing stud.
A misty white light lunged out like a shout of destruction. A wide chunk of the thick vault simply vanished into vapor, leaving a gaping hole. "There, I made us another door."
He gathered his pack and walked through the gap into the night, barely needing to duck his head. Outside, even the stars seemed to be hiding behind a veil of clouds, but after the utter blackness of the vault, the two of them could see perfectly well. Far off in the wreckage, he could make out a few fires. The largest bonfire looked to be where Joanna's ship had crashed. No doubt the scavengers had stripped it down to a bare hulk and now used it as their camp, oblivious to the toxic fumes.
"Shall we take my car?" Jommy asked, hefting the disintegrator tube.
He unerringly led her back to the obscure alley and the half-collapsed shed under which he had camouflaged his vehicle. He and Joanna cleared the debris from the car, and she looked at its battered appearance. "Looks like you've been through some rough driving."
"I didn't have time to get a wash." Using the special thumb lock he had installed, he opened the access door.
"I'll be happy enough to get out of Centropolis," Joanna said. "I had quite a head start on Jem Lorry. We should be able to get to the ranch before he tries anything."
"I wouldn't count on it. And we're going to have to do some quick explaining about you—as a tendrilless spy, you won't exactly be welcome at Granny's ranch with President Gray and John Petty."
When he sat in the driver's seat to check out the systems, a persistent droning blip caught his attention. It was part of the instrument panel he rarely used, and now he saw that the car had picked up an unexpected signal. An emergency signal.
As Joanna loaded their packs into the back, he focused the scanners, scrolling across his screen and trying to pinpoint the source. Long ago when searching for slan hideouts, he had installed specially designed systems to detect important slan broadcasts, coded Porgrave messages beyond the range of any human or tendrilless technology.
Joanna leaned in, curious about what he was doing.
Now his systems had locked onto a loud beacon. He had not heard the signal when he first drove into the city two days earlier, but now the pulsing was strong and undeniable. Some hidden slans were sending out a distress call or an announcement.
"It's the location of a slan enclave. An active one!" Tracking it, he compared the pinpoint with the car's stored guidance maps as well as the details in his own memories. Jommy grinned when he realized that the signal originated from the same place his father had marked on the secret-ink maps.
Then the astonishing signal came through the car's analytical systems, broadcasting to both Joanna and himself, a voice that Jommy vaguely recognized from his distant past. "My name is Peter Cross, a slan scientist. If you are receiving this signal, you have been identified as bearing slan characteristics in your genetic profile. We need you. Your race needs you. Please follow this signal. I hope you will find us."
Jommy swallowed hard. He knew his father had been killed when he was only six years old, but the clear voice, the encouraging words . . . "We have to go there first."
"What about the summit meeting? Jem Lorry is bound to lay a trap."
He felt an ache in his heart, thinking of Kathleen . . . and then imagining the large slan enclave, perhaps people who had known his father. "I don't think President Gray or John Petty will let their guard down for an instant." And, even with the disintegrator, he felt weak and ineffective without his tendrils.
But if he could bring back a full army of hidden slans, other weapons or technologies—then they would have a fighting chance. And the slan hideout was right here, while Granny's ranch was almost a day's dangerous journey away.
He turned to Joanna. "Help me mount the disintegrator in the nose of the car. We're going to have to do some tunneling, take the direct route."
After he and Joanna installed the disintegrator, they strapped themselves into their seats. Jommy activated the engines, turned the weapon's beam downward, then burned a glassy hole through the ground in front of him. Considering the location of the signal, he would have to go deep.
He drove forward, carving a direct passage toward the secret slan base.
CHAPTER 36
Standing on the porch, eyes wide with betrayal, Kathleen watched the hornet shapes of deadly aircraft swoop over the line of mountains. The military ships were heavily armed, their wings steeply angled, their engines roaring. The armada looked sufficient to obliterate the entire valley.
"As I said, these negotiations are over." Jem Lorry sounded very smug, not even bothering to look at the oncoming ships. He activated a signaling device on his wrist. "I can't afford to leave you alive, Gray, to become a rallying point for any annoying resistance movement." He smiled at Petty. "And the great slan hunter is as helpless as the rest."
The ships closed the gap in seconds. Granny had already bolted back inside the ranch house, but Kathleen couldn't tear her eyes from the oncoming squadron. Projectile launchers clicked into place, and the black hollow eyes of gun barrels turned toward them.
John Petty seemed to consider the whole thing a joke. "That's not exactly true, Lorry. I knew you would try to trick me, so I played both sides against the other." He shaded his eyes, then pointed to the sky. "Look at the insignia closely. Those aren't your ships after all."
Standing close to her father, Kathleen recognized the ominous symbol of a scarlet hammer against a web. "It's a secret police strike force!"
"Yes, I used the wireless to contact them while you were all asleep. I arranged for this ambush." Petty whipped out a large-caliber pistol he had hidden inside his black jacket. "Lorry, you're as dead as the rest of these people."
Jem's face contorted in disbelief as Petty's ambush force dropped a flurry of explosive bombs that pattered around the perimeter of Granny's property.
"That's just for practice. Call it an opening move." Petty held the gun steady as he backed out into the middle of the wide-open yard, where one of the smaller ships could find a landing spot and pick him up. The secret police squadron circled back, coming in for their full attack run. Petty raised his hand, signaling the pilots overhead.
Kathleen turned to her father, trying to drag him back into the house. "We can
get underground. Jommy armored the house, reinforced the tunnels—"
"That won't save you. None of you has a chance against the tendrilless." Lorry began to grin. "Ah, here we are."
Over the western line of hills streaked a second swarm of ships that headed straight toward the secret police squadron. The new ships purred rather than roared, using different propulsion technology, but they looked just as deadly.
Before the secret police could retrieve Petty, the squadron spun about at the last minute to defend themselves against the oncoming enemy ships. Their large-caliber guns blasted lead projectiles through the air, stitching fiery impacts against the tendrilless attackers. One of the new ships spun out of control, its fuel tanks in flames, and crashed like a meteor into the ground.