by Timothy Zahn
Bailey hurried over, Ramirez right behind him. "What is it?" he asked as he reached the door.
"You'll want to hear this, Colonel," the interrogator said, gesturing them into the room. Inside, Bailey found a dark-haired young woman slumped in her chair in a verifin-induced daze. "Go ahead, Bryna," the interrogator said encouragingly. "Tell me again about Whiplash."
"Wonderful stuff," the woman said, her words slurred and dreamy-sounding. "It makes you ..." Her voice trailed off.
"Bryna?" the interrogator prompted. "Tell me what Whiplash does."
"It makes you ... you don't have to like the hose-snouts anymore."
"Hose-snouts?" Ramirez murmured.
"South Denver street slang for Ryqril," Bailey told him, frowning. Don't have to like the hose-snouts anymore? What the hell did that mean?
And then, steel bands seemed to close around his chest. "My God," he said softly. "Does she mean—?"
"I think so, sir," the interrogator said tightly. "She's said it at least three times now, and in different ways. I don't think it's an artifact of the verifin."
"I don't get it," Ramirez said, sounding confused. "What's she trying to say?"
"She's saying," Bailey said quietly, "that Phoenix has found a way to break Ryqril loyalty-conditioning."
Ramirez stared at Bailey, then back at the girl. "I think I'd better get those spotters in the air."
"Yes," Bailey said mechanically. "Wilsonn, keep at her. See if you can find out how much of this Whiplash stuff they have, where they got it from, and where they keep their supplies."
"Yes, sir," the interrogator said, and turned back to the girl.
Bailey gestured to Ramirez, and together they left the room. "You see to the spotters," he said. "I'm going to give the Ryqril a call. They're sure as hell going to want to know about this."
* * *
With a grunt, Foxleigh drove the last nail into the rough board and stepped back to inspect his work. It wasn't pretty, that was for sure. But once the south and west walls had been completely redone the cabin should be a lot cozier when the winter winds started blowing.
Or at least it would until new gaps opened up between the boards. A fact of life here in the mountains.
Rubbing the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, he looked away from the new siding to the sunlight glistening off the mountains to the west. There were still times when he missed the level of human companionship he'd enjoyed before the war, but he had to admit there were compensations to living out here. He let his gaze sweep across the sky, drinking in the magnificent panorama as he shifted his eyes from west to south to east....
He paused, frowning. There were a lot of Security spotters drifting around over there today. A lot of them.
For a minute he watched the spotters, an old sensation tingling the back of his neck. Then, setting down his hammer, he limped around to the front of the cabin and went inside. Crossing to the south-facing window, the one that looked down on the handful of houses below, he selected the red shade and pulled it all the way down. Toby's old signal to let his semiestranged family know that he urgently needed help.
Foxleigh could only hope someone down there would notice it soon. He hoped even more strongly that Adamson or his son would be willing to make the trek up here.
Because something was brewing out there to the east. Something big, judging from Security's reaction to it.
Maybe the blackcollars had returned.
He hoped so. He desperately hoped so. A year ago, when they'd sneaked into Aegis Mountain, he'd hesitated too long and missed his opportunity.
But not this time. This time he would be ready for them.
Throwing another look at the spotters drifting through the sky, he headed back outside and returned to his work.
* * *
"General Poirot?"
With an effort, Poirot pried open his eyes. Two men stood over him, their faces silhouetted against soft lights. "How do you feel, General?" one of the men asked.
Poirot frowned. That was a good question, actually. His head hurt fiercely, and his mouth had that peculiar dryness that usually meant a long night's sleep. His body seemed heavy, too, as if he'd slept either too much or too little. Memories were starting to tiptoe back now: the fiasco at Reger's estate, the blackcollar Skyler knocking the world out from under him. Skyler would pay for that, he promised himself distantly.
But there was something else, too, mixed in with the subdued embarrassment and irritation. A brandnew sensation he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"How do you feel about the Ryqril, for instance?" the second man suggested.
The Ryqril? Poirot frowned, the open-snouted faces of humanity's enslavers floating up in front of his mind's eye.
He stiffened. No—it was impossible. He'd been loyalty-conditioned. Loyalty-conditioned. The images and thoughts and feelings trickling through him simply could not exist.
But they did.
"That's right, General," the first man said quietly. "Welcome to your new world."
CHAPTER 7
Lathe had had everyone spend a couple of hours looking over the maps and other data Shaw had given them, and then had ordered them all to get some sleep.
It was late afternoon by the time Judas woke up. "Morning, Caine," Spadafora greeted him as he passed Judas's couch, a heavy-looking box in his hands. "Afternoon, rather. Better get dressed—Shaw's coming by in half an hour for a drive up into the Deerline Mountains."
Judas felt his stomach tighten. The real Caine was hidden away somewhere in those mountains. "What are we going there for?" he asked cautiously.
"He says there are some places where we can get a good look at the Khorstron center," Spadafora called over his shoulder as he disappeared into one of the house's bedrooms. "Move it or get left behind."
The safe house had come equipped with a fully stocked pantry. Judas fixed himself a quick breakfast and then hit the shower. By the time Shaw arrived, he was dressed and ready to go.
"Come on, come on—it's not getting any earlier out there," the tactor said briskly as he looked around.
"Where's Spadafora?"
"He's not going," Lathe said, gesturing to Mordecai and Judas. "It'll just be the three of us."
Shaw made a face. "I wish you'd said something—I could have brought a car instead of a van," he growled. "Cheaper to run. Never mind; let's just do it."
The foothills of the Deerline Mountains ran right up to the southern edge of Inkosi City, with a couple of the pricier suburban areas scattered around its lower slopes. The Ryqril had refused to let Judas inside the tac center even after he'd been loyalty-conditioned, but Galway had brought him up into the mountains once during his training to give him a view of the place. As the rectangular city street grid gave way to winding mountain roads, he wondered if Shaw would end up taking the blackcollars to the same spot Galway had chosen.
Oddly enough, though their route was very different, they ended up not more than a hundred meters from the spot where Judas had been the last time. Perhaps Galway really did understand how these blackcollars thought.
"I really don't know what Lepkowski was thinking," Shaw said as they stood among the trees at the edge of the cliff. "If he thought your team was just going to walk in there, he was badly mistaken."
"I'm sure he wasn't expecting it to be that easy," Lathe said, peering through a set of binoculars at the squat, two-story octagon rising from the lightly forested plain east of the city.
"That's for sure," Judas murmured, shading his eyes against the glare of the sunlight as it sent evening shadows across the ground. The place had looked pretty impenetrable when Galway had showed it to him a few months ago, and at that time the Ryqril had still been working on it. Now, with everything up and running, it looked even worse.
The building had no windows and only four doors, one each facing east, west, north, and south. A pair of bunkers flanked each of the doors, with firing slits that would allow targeting in a nearly hund
redeighty- degree horizontal arc. The building's ventilation exhaust vents were on the roof, encased in armored boxes with heavy grates over the vents. There were no visible intake valves, and Judas had no idea where they actually were. Also atop the building, set back a few meters from each of the eight corners, were antiaircraft laser batteries, their muzzles pointed vigilantly skyward. The trees and shrubbery for fifty meters around the center had been cleared away, and a two-meter-tall mesh fence marked the outer perimeter. Like the building itself, the fence had just four entrances, each flanked by another pair of guard bunkers.
"It's going to be a challenge, all right," Lathe agreed. "But one of the truisms of war is that there's a way into anything."
"Good luck," Shaw muttered.
"For instance," Lathe continued, "that fence isn't nearly high enough to keep out determined trespassers."
"It doesn't have to be," Shaw said acidly. "Notice how thick the fence posts are? Not only are there a full range of sensors in there, but there's also a sonic net anchored above the fence. Even if you managed to sneak up to the fence without them spotting you, jumping or climbing over it would scramble your balance and dump you on your face."
"Allowing the Ryqril to stroll out of the bunkers and beat the sand out of you?" Judas suggested.
"They can't get out of the bunkers, at least not directly," Shaw said. "But then, they really wouldn't have to. The whole area inside the fence, for about three meters back, is booby-trapped with scud grenades and hedge mines." He lifted his eyebrows at Judas. "If you managed not to trigger one of them, and the Ryqril shooting at you from the building bunkers somehow kept missing, then they'd send the warriors outside to beat the sand out of you."
"Must do things in their proper order, Caine," Lathe agreed mildly. "However, I wasn't implying we'd actually be going in over the fence. My point was simply that the fence's height is an enticement, and the fact that the Ryqril seem interested in luring in sightseers implies a level of overconfidence that can be exploited."
"Of course that's what you meant," Shaw said, an edge of sarcasm in his tone. "Again, good luck."
"Oh, we'll get in," Lathe assured him. "Actually, we have no choice. Lepkowski's already gone off to rendezvous with the Chryselli to tell them what we're up to. Pride alone dictates that we succeed."
"Unless the whole thing is a trap," Mordecai spoke up.
"What do you mean?" Shaw asked, his tone suddenly ominous. "If you're even suggesting I'm cooperating with the Ryqril—"
"He's not," Lathe cut him off. But there was a sudden new edge to his voice. "Go on, Mordecai."
"I was just wondering if this whole thing could be a Ryqril plan to turn the tables on the Chryselli," the other blackcollar said. "If the tactical data is going to be of any use, the Chryselli have to be here to collect it pretty much as soon as we dig it out. The Ryqril could have leaked word of this place in hopes of luring them into an ambush."
The lump that had been forming in Judas's throat relaxed. Mordecai had come close to the truth, but not close enough. Galway's plan was still safe. "Sounds kind of iffy to me," he said. "The Chryselli wouldn't be foolish enough to send anything too valuable into a Ryqril-held system, would they?"
"Of course not," Shaw said scornfully. "Besides, in order to set up that kind of ambush, the Ryqril would have to pull some major ships of their own off the battlefront, which they can't afford to do."
"I suppose," Mordecai said. "I just thought that—"
"And we appreciate the effort," Shaw cut him off. "But next time do us all a favor and leave the tactical thinking to the experts, all right?" Deliberately, he turned his back on the other and looked at Lathe. "Is there anything else you wanted to see up here?"
"No, I think we've seen enough," Lathe said. If he was upset at the tactor's verbal abuse of one of his men, he wasn't showing it. "You said you had some schematics of the place?"
"We have some fairly good guesses, based on long-range photos we took while they were building it,"
Shaw said. "But they're hardly comprehensive."
"They'll do for starters," Lathe said, returning his binoculars to their pouch. "Let's get back to town and take a look."
The sun had disappeared completely below the horizon by the time they retraced their steps to the offroad clearing where they'd parked the van. With Shaw again at the wheel, they headed to the main road that would take them back down the mountain.
They were out of the foothills and once again into the more orderly city streets when Judas first realized they were being followed. "Lathe?" he spoke up hesitantly, tapping the blackcollar on the shoulder.
"Yes, I see them," Lathe said.
"We all see them," Shaw growled, his profile tight in the shifting streetlight. Taking his left hand off the wheel, he reached under his right sleeve, and Judas felt his wrist tingle with blackcollar code. All blackcollars in range respond for assist.
There was no answer. "Been on our tail for the past eight blocks," Shaw went on, tapping out the message again. "Prefect Haberdae is nothing if not unsubtle. Looks like we're on our own, too."
"What are we going to do?" Judas asked, an unpleasant sensation crawling up his back. This wasn't part of the plan, at least not any plan he'd been told about. Once he'd been swapped in for Caine, Security was supposed to back off and leave the blackcollars alone.
"Well, we're sure not going to lose them in this beast," Shaw commented. "We'll have to ditch it."
"Where?" Lathe asked.
"There's a viaduct eight blocks ahead to the left," Shaw said. "Where Oak passes under Eleventh."
"That the one with a shopping mall on one side of the overpass and a casino on the other?"
"Very good—you've been doing your homework," Shaw said, a hint of reluctant approval seeping into his voice. "Yes, that's the one. What the current maps don't show is that one of the entrances to the old subway system used to be at that intersection."
"Subways are always promising," Lathe said.
"Very," Shaw agreed. "Which is why the Ryqril went around plugging all the entrances when they took over. The maps also don't show that Inkosi City's less reputable citizenry have sunk a few new entrance shafts to the system, using them to move contraband and for private meetings. One of the rabbit holes just happens to be in the casino restaurant's back room."
"Handy place to disappear to," Mordecai murmured. He already had his flexarmor gloves on, Judas noted. Reaching beneath his coat, he got out his own gloves and started pulling them on.
"Provided we can get out once we're in," Lathe said. "How well do you know the system?"
"Well enough," Shaw said. "I can certainly get us in and back out again."
"And how well does Security know the system?" Mordecai asked.
"No idea," Shaw conceded. "I'm sure they've located at least some of the rabbit holes, but I doubt they've explored the whole thing. Security snogs who go down there don't always come out again."
"We'll just have to chance it," Lathe decided. "What's the shopping mall like?"
"All sorts of back entrances, hallways, nooks, and crannies," Shaw said, throwing him a frown. "But the subway shaft's from the casino, not the mall."
"I was thinking we might want to split up," Lathe told him. "Make them chase two targets instead of one."
"Bad idea," Shaw warned. "Especially since I'm the only one here who knows the tunnel system."
"Which just means the other pair stays above ground," Lathe countered. "Plenty of crowds and buildings out there to disappear into."
"Still not a good idea," Shaw said sourly. "But I take it your mind's already made up. Fine. I'll take Caine underground; you two can play dodgeball with Security. Get ready; we're coming up on our turn."
"Caine, stay with him and do exactly as he says," Lathe said, glancing over the seat at Judas. "What's our drop strategy?"
"There are stairs leading up both sides of the viaduct to the overpass above," Shaw said. "As soon as I reach them, I'll do a fi
shtail stop and try to block traffic in both directions. That ought to snarl the pursuit long enough for us to at least get up the stairs."
"All right," Lathe said. "Caine, keep your battle-hood ready, but don't put it on until Tactor Shaw tells you to. We'll try first to melt into the crowds."
"Got it," Judas said, trying to calm his racing heart. What the hell was Galway up to?
* * *
"They're moving into the left lane," the tech at the command van's status board announced, pressing his headset tightly to his ear. "Looks like they're planning to turn on Oak or Elsbeth."
"Stay with them," Haberdae ordered, a grim half smile on his face as he gazed at the board. "Guess they're not heading for the Queel District, after all."
Galway didn't reply, his eyes also on the board, a sense of imminent doom tugging at him. The spotters were in place over the city, the trackers were on Shaw's tail, and the intercept units were constantly updating their positions to be ready whenever Haberdae decided to make his move. The numbers were there; the ground and air support were there; and the landscape definitely favored the hunters. On paper, this should be a textbook-simple operation.
But no operation was ever textbook-simple. They were always riddled with variables and unknowns, uncertainties that blackcollars were experts at exploiting.
And even if it did work the way Haberdae expected—even if all the variables fell to the hunters—the evening might still end with the entire operation dead and buried in the dust.
Certainly, Shaw couldn't be permitted to snatch the Khorstron planning job away from Lathe. No one was arguing otherwise, least of all Galway. But Lathe himself hadn't even exhausted his options yet, let alone the various schemes Galway might be able to implement through Judas. And even if all other options were gone—even if Shaw was irrevocably hell-bent on running the show—trying to pull off this kind of surgical strike against the tactor while leaving Lathe and the others free and unscathed would take a finesse that Galway wasn't at all sure Haberdae and his men possessed.