The Knights of the Black Earth

by Margaret Weis; Don Perrin

  “Xris and Ito will land on TISor 13 first, stake out the factory. I’ve booked passage on the IfD Lentian for the two of you, arriving at TISor 4 in seven days. From there, you’ll rent a spaceplane and fly to TISor 13.

  “Rowan, you’ll travel with Armstrong on the Vigilance, then link up with Xris and Ito planetside just before the raid. I have no idea what sort of computer equipment these people are running, so bring everything in your tool kit.”

  Xris was disappointed that they weren’t traveling together. Get Rowan alone for seven days and his two best friends would have him just about back to normal in no time.

  “Excuse the interruption, Super,” Xris spoke up. “But why not send Rowan along with us?”

  Amadi was extremely irritated at the interruption. “We’ve intercepted some coded transmissions from the Hung. Our computers can’t crack them. I want Rowan to work on them and he can do so only with the sophisticated equipment on board the Vigilance. I trust this meets with your approval, Agent?”

  Xris ignored the sarcasm. The super was under a lot of pressure these days. “Sure thing, sir.” He looked over at Rowan, who gave him a smile—a real smile.

  “Good.” Amadi grunted. “Now, where was I?” He peered at his notes. “Armstrong, your post will be on the Vigilance. You’ll act as onsite mission commander—guide everyone into the factory and out again.

  “Now listen to me.” Amadi rested both hands on the desk, leaned over it. “I don’t need to tell you how vital this mission is. Everything must go according to plan. Yes, I’m talking to you,

  Xris. You listen to the controller on this one and do exactly what he says or so help me you’ll be back on Jackson’s Moon busting cyberpunkers. Understood?”

  Xris caught Ito’s wink and swallowed the retort that would have only landed him in trouble. There wasn’t much he could say in his own defense. He’d been right in ignoring the controller’s warnings two times out of three, but it was the third—when he’d been wrong—that had nearly gotten them all killed. It was also the reason they now had a new controller. Xris heard that Polinskai had taken early retirement. He nodded glumly.

  The super turned. “Captain Bolton, how soon will your ship be ready to leave?”

  “Six days, sir. We’ve just finished ship’s run-up trials, and need to take on all provisions and load the system’s computers with the operational data for this mission.”

  “Very well, then, Captain. Six days it is. Armstrong, you and Rowan coordinate with the captain here for all transport details. You will establish contact with Xris and Ito on TISor 13 at oh-two hundred hours on the ninth. Rowan, you’ll get a chance to fly one of the Vigilance’s new intrusion shuttles. You’ll meet up with Xris and Ito on the surface, and Agent Armstrong will guide you in from his post on Vigilance. Anything else?”

  Armstrong raised his hand. “I’d like to run over the details of the plan with the other agents after this, if that’s convenient with them.”

  The super glanced around. The others shrugged, agreed.

  “If there’s nothing else, good luck!” Amadi dismissed the meeting.

  Everyone stood as the superintendent and Captain Bolton left. When they were gone, Ito walked over to their new controller, held out his hand.

  “Mashahiro Ito. I haven’t met you before. Are you new in the agency?”

  Armstrong shook hands. “No. I’ve been in for a few years now, working out of Central Headquarters. My specialization is the Corasians. I’ve been acting as our liaison with Naval Intelligence. I was due a change, so I requested a field assignment. They figured I could be useful on this case.”

  “Fed up with the politics, huh?” Xris was sympathetic. He, too, shook hands. “Name’s Xris.”

  “No one can pronounce his surname, so we just skip it,” Ito added.

  For a man with not much muscle tone, Armstrong’s handshake was surprisingly firm and strong. “Life in the capital is pretty stressful,” he said in answer to Xris’s question.

  And that, thought Xris, is all we’ll hear about HQ. For a while, at least. Though Armstrong doesn’t look the type to open up. Pity. It’d be nice to know if the word floating around about disorganization and turmoil at the top is true.

  Rowan shook hands with their new controller, mumbled “Nice to meet you,” then asked abruptly, “What time’s the briefing?”

  Armstrong blinked and answered, “Twenty-two hundred, if that’s okay with everyone? I thought—”

  “Fine.”

  Rowan left, moving so rapidly that Xris fell over a desk in his effort to catch up. He caught his friend at the door.

  “Hey, buddy, I thought we were going to talk. Look, I’ve got an idea. Come home with me to dinner. We’ve got six hours before the briefing with Armstrong. Marjorie’s cooking something special—one of her famous ‘welcome home’ meals. She’d love to see you. She said she didn’t hear from you the whole time I was away. You know how she worries. . . .”

  Rowan was shaking his head, doing his best to escape out the door. But Xris was a big man, broad-shouldered and tall, and made a sizable obstacle.

  His attempt foiled, Rowan halted, stared impatiently past his friend into the hall. “Thanks, Xris, but I just remembered an appointment—”

  “Cancel it.”

  Rowan shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’ll see you at the briefing.”

  He tried to step around. Xris grabbed hold of his friend’s arm. “Goddammit, Dalin, I’m sorry—”

  Rowan looked directly at Xris for the first time since he’d entered the room.

  “For what?” Rowan asked bitterly. “Being right?”

  Slender, shorter than Xris, Dalin Rowan was wiry and agile. He feinted left, moved right, and was out the door before Xris could stop him.

  “No luck?” said Ito, coming up behind.

  “Hell no. He’s acting strange, Ito. He could be in trouble. Big trouble. I heard—”

  “Excuse me,” Armstrong interrupted politely. He was standing behind them. “If I could get past? I need to put together a few things.”

  “Sure. Sorry.” Xris moved one way, Ito the other.

  Armstrong stepped between them, gave them a smile, and walked off down the hall.

  “What have you heard?” Ito asked.

  “Nothing,” Xris answered. “Skip it.”

  Ito shook his head. “You heard he was on the take. I heard it, too, and I don’t believe it.”

  “I didn’t. Until I saw him.”

  “Rowan’s straight arrow. You’ll never convince me.”

  They both stood in the doorway, watched their friend step into the lift.

  Xris took out a twist, stuck it in his mouth, chewed on the end. “Maybe one of us should ... well . .. keep an eye on him.”

  “Damn it, Xris, we’re talking about Rowan! Dalin Rowan!” Ito snorted. “If you want to tail a man who’s been your best friend for ten years, who’s saved your ass more than once, then go ahead. I’m going out for a drink. You coming?”

  Xris went with Ito for that drink. But he was to wonder later— wonder over and over again—what would have happened if he hadn’t. What if he’d tailed his friend, his pal, his buddy? What would he have seen? Rowan meeting with the Hung. Taking their filthy blood money. Selling his friends out.

  Why? Why the hell didn’t I go after him? Xris was to ask himself that question during the long, pain-tormented nights. And he always came up with the same answer.

  Because he was my friend. A man doesn’t tail his best friend.

  But then neither does a man set his best friends up for the kill.

  Armstrong was already in the briefing room when Xris entered. He sat down and waited. After a few moments, Ito wandered in, glanced worriedly at Xris, who had been moody and morose in the bar.

  Xris smiled, nodded, indicated that he was once more in his right senses. An excellent meal—all his favorite food—and Marjorie’s reassuring, levelheaded conversation had eased his mind. Da
lin hadn’t sold anyone out. He’d be fine. Some things a man had to work out on his own.

  Ito grinned, relieved. He began to examine a map of TISor 13 that Armstrong had brought up on the large vidscreen.

  Dalin came in, sat down next to Xris.

  “I’m sorry,” Rowan said abruptly. “But everything’s going to be okay now. It’s all . . . taken care of.”

  “What is? Look, Dalin, if you need cash, I’ve got a few extra credits in my account—”

  “No, no,” Rowan said hastily, with a bleak smile. “It’s all arranged. I can’t explain now. When this job’s done, I’m going to be all right. I promise, Xris. Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”

  He looked at Xris anxiously, either begging him to drop the subject or desperately eager to talk. Xris couldn’t tell which, and whatever he might have said in return never got said because at that moment Armstrong started talking.

  Turning to the wall-mounted vidscreen, he called up a map of the munitions factory and surrounding areas.

  “I’ve prepared some briefing notes; you can go over them at your convenience. I’ll cover everything first, and then you can ask questions.”

  Using a red-light laser indicator, Armstrong pointed out a gray area near the munitions plant. “You’ll make your approach from here. This swamp is the only easy point of access. The water and assorted plant life provide excellent cover right up to within three meters of the fence that surrounds the facility.”

  “Swamp!” Ito repeated, horrified. “Assorted plant life! What does that mean? And what about assorted animal life?”

  Armstrong was soothing. “I’ve checked it out. According to our biometeorological research scientists, there’s nothing too dangerous in the swamp.”

  “How the hell do they know? Have they been there?”

  “No, but studies on swamps on planets with the same type of atmosphere and temperature would seem to indicate that the flora is standard for warm, wet environments. Nothing worse than skunk plants and plenty of vines. They don’t think any of the vines are sentient.”

  “Don’t think they’re sentient,” Xris kidded, nudging Ito under the table with his foot.

  Ito paled.

  “You shouldn’t have to worry about the fauna, either,” Armstrong continued. “Primarily your standard water lizards and tubor snakes and they don’t like anything bigger than they are.”

  “Snakes ...” Ito repeated in a whisper.

  “Tubor snakes. Not poisonous. You’ll be provided with the standard snakebite kit, just in case. To continue”—Armstrong hastened on, ignoring Ito’s garbled protest—”you’ll enter the swamp here and move to this point, closest to the fence. You’ll exit the swamp, cut open the fence, and enter the vehicle loading dock—”

  Xris grunted. “After we set off every sensor in the place, not to mention being fried by the electronic fence.”

  Armstrong shook his head. “Remember, Agent, this is a legal operation for the Hung. They have all the necessary permits; the community’s even given them tax breaks. It’s not against the law to produce and sell small arms and ammunition. And you can be certain that if said arms are making their way to Corasia, the Hung have it all very well disguised. No, gentlemen, you won’t find any electric fences or force fields or fancy sensor belts. The Hung don’t want to make the good folks of TISor 13 suspicious. Our preliminary reports indicate that this fence is chain-link. Its main function is to keep out the swamp creatures.”

  “What swamp creatures?” Ito demanded loudly.

  Armstrong, with a wry grin, only shook his head.

  “You won’t find any ‘live’ guards, either. The plant employees live in a trailer park some eight kilometers from the facility. An automated system keeps watch at night, one of those with its own investigating ‘bot. You know the kind—the ‘bot can put out a small fire or report a major one. Kills large rodents, that sort of thing.”

  “Rodents.” Ito shuddered.

  “You’ll have to disable the ‘bot, if it locates you. As I said, you’ll enter here, via the loading dock.” Armstrong pointed. “That will put you inside the shipping warehouse. Proceed through the chemical storage room—here—and into the main assembly area. From here, you will make your way to the central control office—marked on this map with a circle. Your briefing packages contain copies of all of these maps. The main computer is located in the control office.

  “Rowan will gain control of the computer system, establish a ground-space link to the Vigilance, and upload the entire memory core. We estimate transmission time at around eight minutes. Once you’re finished, return the system to its original state and exit via the same route you entered. You should clear the compound by oh-three-twenty hours. You will then proceed to the Vigilance’s shuttle and return to orbit. We’ll analyze the data and decide on a course of action. Any questions?”

  Ito cleared his throat. “About those snakes .. .”

  Laughter, even from Rowan. The meeting broke up. Xris offered to stand drinks. Ito said yes, just a minute, began anxiously searching through his briefing papers for the bioresearcher’s report. Armstrong declined politely. Gathering his material, he left the briefing room. Rowan said sure, he’d join them in a moment. He’d just thought of a question he needed to ask Armstrong.

  Xris dragged Ito away from the snake report. They took the lift to the top floor, to the employees’ private lounge. They had their drink and then another. Ito finally went home. Xris waited a long time before he admitted to himself that Rowan wasn’t coming.

  The transport run to TISor 4 was dull. Ito and Xris had played businessmen on a marketing trip before and were very polished at it. They were good, so good that it was beginning to bore them. They didn’t talk much. Xris divided his time between scanning his briefing notes and worrying about Rowan. Ito read a book titled Poisonous Reptiles Indigenous to Class 4 Moons. Arriving at space dock, they transferred to a planet-bound shuttle and headed for the commerce sector of the capital city of Greenlock.

  Since there was only one city on TISor 4, calling it a capital was a bit grandiose. Greenlock did act as the capital for all of TISor’s moons, though, so no one questioned its self-styled importance. The planet TISor was uninhabitable, a huge orange gas giant. Circling it were twenty-two moons, five of which had atmosphere and were warm enough to support life. Only TISor 4 was heavily populated. According to Armstrong’s report, the other moons catered to a few low-budget resorts, several struggling factories, and lots of signs posted on lots of tracts of barren land boasting that they were “scheduled for future development.” TISor 13 was the ideal location for a Hung factory. No one gave a damn what they produced or who they sold it to, as long as they provided jobs and forked over tax credits.

  Xris and Ito checked into an old hotel on the end of what passed for the local social strip and waited until morning. Not much happened on TISor 4 at night, and the people liked it that way. The bars were quiet drinking holes, the entertainment industry was zero to nonexistent. Neither man felt much like being entertained. Xris called Marjorie. Ito checked in with Armstrong. The plan was still a go. No changes.

  Armstrong had reserved a short-hop spaceplane for them. The courtesy hovervan from the rental agency arrived to pick them up early the next day. Xris and Ito showed their commercial pilot’s licenses to a sleepy clerk, who barely glanced at them.

  “Slot D,” she said, yawning and handing over the codes needed to initiate the computer sequence that would fire the plane’s engines. “I hope it starts,” she added in a tone which indicated she’d be amazed as hell if it did.

  They walked out onto the concrete tarmac and located their spaceplane—a shabby WR model in desperate need of a paint job. The plane had short wings, a small cockpit, and was unarmed. The central cargo area was only three meters long, but all in all the craft was exactly what they wanted. It certainly wouldn’t draw anyone’s attention, arouse anyone’s suspicions.

  “A good choice,” Xris said, gi
ving the outside a careful examination. “I’ve got to give Armstrong credit: He seems to know his stuff.”

  “Does that mean we get to keep him, Daddy? Huh? Please, please?” Ito begged, tugging on the sleeve of Xris’s flight suit.

  “Sure, son,” Xris answered magnanimously. “But you’ve got to feed him and clean up after him.” He grinned. “I’ll stow the gear. You check the nav computer and see if it has any idea where TISor 13 is located.”

  Xris boarded the plane through the drop-down hatch that he trusted wouldn’t drop down when they were deep in space. Ito checked the computer, began shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  “Nothing much here, Xris. It provides the normal approach vectors, climate and weather reports—probably outdated—and a directory of inhabitants. I’m running the inhabitants against our known Hung member list, but I don’t expect to find anything.”

  A few seconds passed as Ito cross-correlated the data with the list. “Nope, nothing here. I’ll feed the standard inbound vector to the nav computer to take us in. Once we’re in the atmosphere, you can fly us to our landing zone.”

  The computer made the necessary course corrections. The plane took off and they settled down to thirty minutes of unexciting flying. There were no landing authorities on the moons, so there was no need for radio traffic. And the computer wasn’t the type that had been programmed to entertain the passengers.

  “You hear about those XJ series computers Warlord Sagan’s developed to put in his new Scimitars?” Xris asked. “I talked to one of the pilots. The planes are fast and more maneuverable than a Laskar belly dancer, but Sagan installed this computer XJ-type that’s got a mind of its own. Actually argues with the pilot if it doesn’t like what you’re doing. Plus he says the damn thing never shuts up.”

  They discussed computers and the current unstable political situation, with the various Warlords plotting to fill the power vacuum left by the increasingly ineffective government of the Galactic Democratic Republic. People were grumbling and starting to talk about a return to the “good old days” under the Blood Royal. Since all the Blood Royal were—supposedly—wiped out by the purges during the Revolution, their return appeared highly unlikely.