She took her time with this, trying not to think how ill she could afford to do that. She had to get this right with Clare before they could do anything about Alex or Adrian or the line of dead men. After a while Clare stirred, opened her eyes to stare up at the stars.
"I couldn't bear to feel. Father—" She stopped, then turned her head to look at Jaguar. "I couldn't bear to know how much I loved him."
"Love is always bearable," Jaguar said. "What you couldn't bear to feel was how much you had to hate him."
Clare sighed, breath leaving her like old pain. Old dust swept away. She remained silent, and Jaguar continued sitting with her, stroking her hair. She realized she was sweating when she felt the trickle run off her forehead. Clare would be okay now. She would be okay.
She had to start thinking through her next moves. She might still have time to make the shuttle, if she left soon. Should she should go look for Adrian, though? Or leave him and Clare behind and go on alone.
Her first question was answered when she heard the sound of someone crashing clumsily through the shrubs, and Adrian's somewhat battered face appeared. He came stumbling toward her, Nick's old gun in his hand, pointing this way and that.
"Christ," he said. "There's some kind of giant cat running around. Is that where you learned your tricks?"
She looked up at him wryly as he approached. "Some of them," she said. "Will you stop waving that gun around, please. You look like an old movie."
Adrian stuck it in the back of his pants, walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Is she ... alive?"
Jaguar nodded. "Just a face slash. She'll be all right. I don't know if she'll ever look quite the same, though. Can you help me with her?"
She pulled Clare up to a sitting position and slung an arm around her shoulder, indicating that Adrian should do the same. Clare was going in and out of consciousness, and would probably remain that way for some time. But they'd have to go on, and Jaguar was afraid she might need her help before the job was done. Clare would have to come along.
"We'll stop at the apartment and get some bandages—clean her up. I've got some medication there that'll put her right for a while. Then we'll have to get a move on, or we'll be late."
"Late?" Adrian asked, catching Clare under her other arm and lifting. "Late for what?"
"We've got a shuttle to catch," Jaguar said.
"Shuttle?" Adrian said. "You mean—"
"I mean," she said, "lift and walk, buddy. It's about to be a very long night."
14
Alex felt a rough hand pressing into his forehead. He opened his eyes and stared up at a familiar face.
"Didn't they warn you not to try that shit?" Terence said.
"Jesus," Alex said. "You were the connection."
Terence took a step back and scanned him for damage. "I guess you're still alive. For now, anyway. And surprised, aren't you?"
Alex said nothing. He could think of nothing to say.
"Yeah," Terence continued. "You thought I was just some old workhorse, picking up the organizational pieces for the people who mattered—Teachers and Supervisors. You thought I was just stupid."
"Actually," Alex said, "I thought you were a good record keeper. Now I think you're stupid."
Terence shook his head slowly, then, smiling, raised his hand and whacked Alex with the back of it. "You aren't in charge here. Remember that."
"Not likely to forget," Alex said, wincing. "Who is in charge?"
"For now, I am," Terence said. "In a while someone else'll be here."
"Is it that man with glasses who's been on the Planetoid?"
"That's him. The Looker, he's called. He keeps track of everything."
"Everything?"
"Well, this part of the organization, anyway. I don't think anyone knows who really runs DIE." Terence waved a large hand around the room. ' "This is just a little bit of it. Research. They keep their people scattered. Like to move a lot, I understand."
Alex understood, too.
"Terence," he asked, "why haven't you killed me yet?"
Terence shrugged. "Not sure. I'm supposed to hang on to you until I get orders otherwise, unless something goes wrong. Maybe," he added, "the Looker wants to save you for his project."
Alex couldn't help it. He shuddered.
"Yeah," Terence agreed. "Pretty raw. I haven't spent a lot of time here, and I hope I won't be. I'm hoping they'll put me in another facility. Somewhere where they're doing some computerized work."
"Why?" Alex said. "So you can be a record keeper again?"
"Hey, you can laugh, but these guys pay. Listen, I gotta go, but I'm gonna be back to check on you. Don't try any more of that shit again, okay? It makes a noise."
He walked halfway across the room, turned, and looked one more time at Alex. He seemed to be considering something. Then he spoke.
"Listen, I just gotta know. I mean, here you are, and you know you ain't coming out of this one, so you might as well tell me the truth."
Alex looked at him blankly. "The truth? About what?"
Terence shrugged. "Did you? I mean, just between us—did you ever sleep with Jag?"
Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. "Don't call her Jag," he said. "She hates being called that."
Jaguar thought they must look like a very decrepit crew. Clare and her bandaged face. Adrian and the black welt coming up fine on the side of his face. Her own uninjured face showing signs of fatigue. She hadn't looked at herself in a mirror to check on it, though. She didn't know that she wanted to see a mirror again for a long time.
They stood in the doorway of the shuttle station, feeling morose as well as injured.
They'd missed the straightline out, and had no choice but to catch a terminal service run to the R-Station. Delivery vehicles and small passenger runs went to the R-Station daily, but Jaguar knew the schedule of runs. Once they got there, they'd either have to wait another twelve hours for the next terminal service to the home planet or they'd have to try and connect from another Planetoid with a straight-line service. Which would take at least the same amount of time, if not longer.
They had no trouble getting seats on a terminal-service shuttle. Nobody bothered to ask who they were or where they were going. All clearance passes were checked at either the R-Station or on the straightline run. Which they'd missed.
She tried not to panic at the amount of time she was losing. Panic wouldn't serve her right now. Think. She had to think.
They got off at the R-Station and stood in the midst of the foot traffic. People passing at fast clips, hurrying to get to wherever they were going, bumping pieces of luggage against each other's legs. She and Clare and Adrian seemed to be the only people standing still.
"Shit," Jaguar said. "This is ridiculous. We have to do something."
Anything. Keep moving. Keep moving.
She glanced around at the signs for arrivals and departures. She knew where she needed to get to. That was something. And she knew what she needed to get her there. A fast, small shuttlecraft, capable of landing without a pod. Something that carried a minimum of crew and no cargo.
Her eye caught a sign that pointed to the charter docks. A charter shuttle. That was just what they needed right now. The docks were probably a mile away through confusing halls and stairs that led nowhere. And what she'd do to get one that was going her way, she didn't know yet. But at least it was something to try.
"Come on," she said to the others.
"Where're we going?" Adrian asked. She took a good look at him. His face was colorful, and he was subdued, but at least he wasn't whining. She didn't think she could stand whining right now.
Then she turned her attention to Clare. She was silent. She hadn't quite returned to the present yet, and it might be a while before she did. Jaguar let her be silent. Better than whining. Better than noise.
They'd talked on the way over, because Jaguar had questions that needed answering. She'd seen most of the important items from Alex's bri
ef contact. The place where they held him was the center for the pseudogenics research, and they needed to get him out of there rather than going in after him. Now she needed specific coordinates for the house, an idea of how many guards would be there, how many of them would be armed. Clare's answers were brief, distant, and precise. Jaguar knew where she needed to go, now she just had to figure out how to get there.
"That way," Jaguar said, pointing with her long finger.
She picked up the pace, walking ahead in long strides, trusting Adrian to make sure Clare kept up. They wound their way through the crowd of people trying for the lounge, which was in the same direction, then down the halls, where the number of people began to dwindle to crew and luggage carriers and security guards.
Security guards. Shit. That might be a problem.
The arrows for delivery vehicles pointed them down a narrowing corridor, utilitarian rather than pretty. They hadn't bothered to decorate here, or cover the pipes and transmitter boxes that lined the walls. Ahead of her she saw the sign for the docking gate. Just ahead of that, another sign.
CLEARANCE GATE. SECURITY ENFORCED. Keep going.
But she felt a hand on her arm.
"Hey," Adrian called at her. "What's that mean?"
He pointed at the sign, and she saw, just below it, a view screen. She couldn't hear what was being said, but a very clear picture of her own face appeared, followed by a list of particulars about her.
She turned a grim face to Adrian. "It means we're up shit's creek, probably," she said.
Someone must have found out that Clare was gone. Or that the Looker was dead. Or maybe they found Nick's remains at the burn plant. Or maybe the warrant Nick had was still good.
"Tricky," Adrian said, watching the view screen, "but interesting."
"What the hell does that mean?" Jaguar snapped, and then, seeing that he didn't even hear her, seeing that he was busy ticking out some plot in his own mind, she grinned at him.
"Okay, con man," she said. "What's your idea?"
"Well," he said, "it might work to our advantage, actually. Do you have any papers on you? Like, passes from the Planetoid or something?"
"Of course, but—"
"Okay. Give them to me."
She reached into the deep pockets of her jacket and handed them over. She wasn't about to argue now.
"Now put your hands behind you, as if you're cuffed. Right. Like that." He pulled the weapon they'd taken from the Looker out of his own belt and held it at her back.
"You're my prisoner now," he said, grinning.
She smothered a laugh, ducking her head down.
"Cut that out," he said. "Look beaten. Or try for subdued at least."
"Adrian," she said, "what about Clare?"
He considered her, then wound his free hand around her elbow.
"Um—protected witness. Injured in the tussle to get you. Walk, lady."
"Clearly," she said, "you're enjoying this a little bit too much."
But he didn't hear her. He pushed them ahead and went right up to the security guard, flashing the papers quickly and then stuffing them in his pocket. "I need a vehicle," he said. "Planetoid business. Emergency status."
"Who the hell are—hey, isn't that the lady they're looking for?" The guard gaped at Jaguar, who leaned forward and growled at him. Adrian pulled her back.
"Better not," he said. He leaned in to the guard. "She bites."
"Jesus—listen, what're you doing with her?"
"We have to get her to the home planet. There's an emergency situation there, involving a prisoner."
"Yeah? Well, I got something going out. Just step through here—"
He passed them through the gate, and Jaguar felt herself sigh in relief. They'd passed the gate.
Walking now, past a line of docked vehicles, and her eyes checking for the right one. The one that looked like it might take her where she wanted to go. Livestock shuttle.
No. Too big.
Something she'd never seen before. Boxy and bulky.
No.
A small craft, sleek and shining. Lear shuttle. Private craft. Reserved for corporate use. A pilot entering the front of it.
That one.
She stopped, and growled. Adrian turned and shot her a look. With her eyes, she indicated the dark exterior of the Lear.
"Hey," Adrian said, "how about that one?"
"That?" the guard said. "It's got a passenger list I want to give you something empty."
Jaguar growled again.
"That one," Adrian said, over the hum of the vehicle wanning up.
"Listen," the guard said, "I'm gonna give you what I got that ain't being used. Besides, I gotta run a check on this first, make sure you're all cleared. I'll need your supervisor's name, and—hey. What the hell?"
Jaguar growled louder, and Adrian turned the gun away from her, toward the security guard. He gathered the two women in front of him and began backing toward the vehicle.
"That one," he said again.
The security guard raised his hands high. Jaguar scooted herself behind Adrian and pressed the entrance button. As the door slid open she could see a cart full of men in suits riding toward them, ready for their flight.
"So sorry," she murmured. "Flight delayed due to terrorist takeover."
And they were in.
Hira Shilo was in command of the Board of Governors' emergency meeting, and everyone let her be. God knew somebody had to be, and she was the only one willing to take on a mess that could only turn out badly, no matter what happened next.
They'd been discussing ways of managing the press around the disappearance of Clare Rilasco, when they'd received a report that a prisoner from Planetoid Three had hijacked a Lear shuttle and taken a Teacher and someone else hostage on it. The Teacher happened to be wanted for questioning in a number of matters, including the disappearance of another prisoner—Clare Rilasco.
"Jesus," Tremont said, "now what do we do?"
"At least we know where they are," Hira said. "I suggest we negotiate."
"Great suggestion," said Paul Dinardo, whose zone this nightmare had grown out of. "How'll we get them to talk to us? I doubt they'll answer cabin communication."
Hira tapped a ringer against the table. "We could break through the computer."
"Oh sure. The easiest thing to ignore. How about if we send out a cruiser and have it shoot them down?"
The other Governors murmured, whether in agreement with this idea or against it, Paul couldn't tell. Hira looked at them in disgust.
"That's loathsome. For one thing, these are our people, no matter what's happened. And for another, the publicity would be awful. Because this is going to come out. It's the Rilasco case. It can't be hidden. So all we can do is manage the publicity angles. And shooting them down is not a good angle."
Paul sighed in deep disappointment. "Well, I can't think of how to get through to them, anyway."
"That's because you don't want to get through to them. Anyone else?"
"Simple," Governor Tremont said. "Push the screen."
"I beg your pardon?" Hira said politely.
"We can push the waves on the lounge telecom view screen. They're always overpowered for these Lear shuttles. We'll at least be in their faces, even if they don't respond."
"Okay," Hira said. "How long will it take, and who do we need to accomplish it?"
In the murmur of discussion that followed, Paul got up and left the room.
"Don't worry," Jaguar said to the pilot. "We don't plan to wrinkle your shirt any. Just get us out of here."
The pilot, an older man with a distinctive profile and demurely graying hair, looked unconvinced. "I'm going to retire in six months," he said. "My wife and I are going on a European tour."
Jaguar sighed. She didn't have time to reassure him. "This is Adrian," she said cheerfully. "And Clare. I'm Dr. Addams. You are—"
"Um—Ross. I'm Ross. I'm going to retire—"
"In six months," she finis
hed for him. "And you'll enjoy every minute of it, believe me. Right now I'm looking forward to taking my retirement someday, and I hope you'll help me achieve that goal. You have airlock control?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then take us out."
He hesitated, and she leaned over his seat, her hand resting on the controls, the tip of the red knife showing. She put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, sultry and low, "Take us out, Ross. Now."
"Yes, ma'am."
She turned and nodded at Adrian. "Stay here with him. Tell him where we're headed, and make sure we keep headed that way. Ignore any communications from outside, okay?"
"Right," he said.
Then, to the pilot: "You have computer hookup for your passengers?"
"Yes, ma'am. In the lounge area."
She left Clare with Adrian and walked through the sleeping cabins to the lounge, which was empty and quiet except for the humming of engines. A little time to think. To work through some possible next moves.
On a table nearby was a computer, and she opened the file to navigational aids, scanning for Leadville. When the map came up she stared at it, looking for the place she'd seen in Alex's mind, the place Clare told her about. A caretaker's house, in a cemetery. Caretaking the dead. Either they had a fine sense of irony, or they had all the sensitivity of amoebas.
She wanted to get as close as possible, as quickly as possible.
There. The Francis Duffey Memorial Park. The park was on the map. She'd want to come in a little farther out than that. She wrote out coordinates, then sat back and considered.
Get as close as possible. As quickly as possible. And then ... what?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of the telecom. She kept her eyes on the map. "Buzz off," she muttered, but it didn't listen.
"Are you receiving?" a female voice asked. "We just want to talk with you. Let you know we're willing to negotiate."
Dammit, they'd broken through. Couldn't raise a response on the cabin radio, so they were trying this. Breaking the lines.
Then Jaguar stopped and listened. She knew that voice. It was Hira, one of the Governors of Planetoid Three. She rarely dealt with her personally, but she was the face most likely to be put up front in a public crisis.
THE FEAR PRINCIPLE Page 20