His already-ruddy face got redder. “We did no such thing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Doctor. The weapon prototype you sent around GA-72-6694 was real enough. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be so interested in getting it back. But the detonator was a fake. Dr. Birkie told me all about your DUD.”
Caugust laughed unexpectedly. “Equipment failure, Inspector – yours, not ours. The detonator and the weapon were both real. Doctor Birkie lied to you.”
Suddenly Janette had doubts, but only small ones. ‘“Then why didn’t it work? Why didn’t it explode two stars?”
Ask the Inspector Admiral’s Office. They have all the data. They can tell you.”
“I’ve seen that data, and it would take months, maybe years, to analyze it, even if they knew what they were doing, which they don’t. Either you give me the truth now or I’ll question you the same way I did Dr. Birkie.”
“Oh, no. Not me, Inspector. You’re not getting me in your torture rack. No chance.”
“Then tell me the truth. Why didn’t it work?”
Caugust sighed heavily. “It was programmed to fail.”
“Thank you. Now, I want the detonator you have stored away in the main test lab.”
“You what? Inspector, I don’t know what you are –“
“Either you turn it over to me,” she said menacingly, “or I’ll have you locked up and take this complex apart piece by piece until I find it.”
“You win, Inspector. You win,” he said with a look of defeat. “But why do you want it?”
“So that when I get the other part in this auction, Sondak will have a complete Ultimate Weapon to use against the Ukes, of course. Why else would I want it?”
16
HENLEY WALKED SLOWLY DOWN THE HILL, wishing he had done a better job of distributing the weight in his combat pack, because no matter how he tried to adjust it, he felt as if he were leaning slightly to the left. He paused for a moment to wipe the perspiration from his face and looked away from the bright orange heat of Mungtinez’s sun. He was sweating freely now in the warm, humid air and wanted nothing more than to find his unit and get out from under the sun and his pack.
Putting his cap back on, he continued down the hill. The orderly rows of hundreds of stretchlon tents in the shallow valley below him reminded Henley of the beehives he had seen one time on Wallbank – or was it Yaffee? He couldn’t remember.
Here and there among the rows of troop tents, larger domed tents indicated unit headquarters or officers quarters. According to the clerk back at legion headquarters, Delta Company’s tent was in the seventh row of Z-companies from the north.
The clerk had been wrong.
After asking directions several times and getting completely turned around once, Henley finally found the tent he was looking for on the ninth row. An orderly who was leaving the tent as he approached it told him he could go in.
“What are you doin’ here, Chief?” Rasha’kean asked, rising from her chair as Henley came through the flap.
“Following your career, Colonel.” He took off his pack and smiled with relief. It was noticeably cooler in the tent.
“Get truthful,” Rasha’kean said, returning his smile.
“Colonel!” he said with mock dismay. “You caught me. I’m actually here to make you keep a dinner date.” Rasha’kean snorted.
“All right,” Henley said, “the truth. I requested an attachment to a combat unit, and General Archer asked me if I had any preferences.” He paused to wipe his face.
Rasha’kean’s smile had turned into a slight frown. “And you chose my unit?” She did not think she liked that idea.
“Not exactly.” He had noted the quick shift of her expression and wondered what she was thinking. “The general said he would assign me to a Z-company, which was fine with me. I didn’t know until I received my orders that you were the commanding officer. You don’t look too happy about that.”
“I’m not sure I am, Chief. But I’m not sure I’m unhappy about it, either. Maybe I just d’not ken what to do with you. Please, sit down,” she said, sitting back in her chair.
Henley was grateful for the chance to sit, even in a collapsible field-chair. His hike had tired him far more than he thought it should have. Got to get in shape, he thought, or I’ll never make it. “You don’t have to do anything with me, except put up with me – and tell me when I’m in your way or out of line,” he added.
“I see,” she said slowly, then asked the question uppermost in her mind. “What is it that you’re goin’ to do in this unit?”
“What I do is pretty simple,” he said, “too simple, some people would say. Basically I will stay with your company from now through the invasion. I’ll watch, listen, try to get to know your troops, and write my stories for the Service Archives.”
“And the Flag Report,” she added.
“Yes. For the Flag Report, but also the Courier-Times, and Intraworld News.”
“Uh...ar’not those civilian controlled?”
“More like civilian-government controlled. Actually, it’s rather complicated. I submit some my stories through the Flag Report Editorial Office to the Tri-Cameral’s Information Release Committee. They decide which stories to release to Efcorps, and Efcorps controls both the Courier-Times and lntraworld.”
“But that’s censorship!”
“Of course, Colonel. You seem surprised.”
“I am shocked,” Rasha’kean said.
“But why?” Henley asked. “You don’t think the Service would release just anything I wrote, do you?
Rasha’kean hesitated. “Perhaps not, Chief, but on Ca-Ryn such censorship is very much against the law.”
Henley laughed. “It may be against the law, Colonel, but I’d bet you a year’s pay that it happens all the time. No government can afford uncensored reporting. How do you think the Efcorps started?” It was a rhetorical question, but he paused, anyway, and gave her a chance to answer.
When she didn’t, he continued. “Efcorps was the censorship arm of the original government on Biery, but it wasn’t called Efcorps then. That strange name is a rather recent addition. However, no matter how many times the name changes, the results are the same. News is censored for the good of Sondak and its citizens.”
“Not on Ca-Ryn,” Rasha’kean said stubbornly.
“Yes, on Ca-Ryn. Believe me, Colonel.”
“I d’not Chief, nor will I until I have some better proof of it than a Teller’s word for it. You’ll not be taken’ offense to that, I hope?”
“Not at all,” he lied. He resented her refusal to believe him – or her naive approach to the government, he wasn’t sure which. “However,” he said, “if I were you, I wouldn’t bet any credits I wasn’t willing to lose on that.”
Rasha’kean did not want to pursue this discussion any further and decided it was time to change the subject. “Have you met my Executive Officer?” she asked.
“No. Your orderly said the X.O. was supervising some training this morning.”
“Well, Sergeant Denoro should be returnin’ soon, and I’ll let her find a place for you. If you want stories, I think you’ll find her an interestin’ trooper.”
“Sergeant Denoro?” Henley asked, barely waiting until Ingrivia had finished speaking.
“Yes,” Rasha’kean said. “Does that surprise you?”
“I suppose it does. Not too many officers around anymore who would make a senior sergeant their X.O.”
“Well, I’m one who d’not think all the oldy ways are bad, Chief, and experience is more important in my X.O. than rank.”
“I didn’t mean to sound critical, Colonel. I was just flat-foot startled. Takes good sense to choose experience over rank.”
And you di’not think I had good sense?” Rasha’kean teased.
Henley shook his head. “You know better than that. How about dinner? I’ll even cook it myself if you can get us some F-rations. Brought my own kingjun hot sauce.”
“When w
e get into combat, maybe.” She saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes and added, “For the F-rations, I mean. Tonight we can eat in the Officers Tank.”
“If that’s what you want, Colonel,” he said with a tone of resignation, “but I guarantee that what I do with F-rats and hot sauce beats the normal fare at any Officers Tank.”
“It’s easier to take risks in combat, Chief. Tonight I’ll take the safe menu.”
“There you go again, Colonel, selling me –“ He stopped as a thin, dark sergeant entered the tent.
“Denoro,” Rasha’kean said, “I’ve got a new charge for you. Chief, this is my X.O.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sergeant,” Henley said, giving her a casual salute.
Denoro looked him up and down for a few seconds. “Combat Teller, old one, too. Been around, haven’t you, Chief?”
Henley was puzzled. “A few times, Denoro. Why?”
“Cause you ought to know better than to salute me,” she said sternly. Then her face broke into a grin. “I’ll be grounded before I’ll be mistaken for an officer.” She gave Rasha’kean a quick wink.
“Aw,” Henley said, “take it while you can get it. Won’t be any saluting once we hit the dirt.”
“Truth enough,” Denoro said, holding out her hand. Henley shook it.
“You here to do a story on our colonel?” she asked
“I’m tryin’ to get him to do one on you,” Rasha’kean said.
“On both of you, and the whole company. There is something I need from both of you, I guess, before I do stories on anyone. Today’s hike convinced me that I’m out of shape, so I want to join the physical training program you’re putting the troops through.”
They both smiled, and Denoro said, “Never had a chance to kill a Teller before. What do you think, Colonel?”
“Permission granted.” Rasha’kean looked critically at Henley. “I want all that fat off him before we launch.”
He shook his head slightly. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be very sorry I asked for this?”
“You’ll love it, Chief,” Denoro said. “You really will.”
◊ ◊ ◊
“Ranas, I do not understand what you mean,” Leri said, shifting her coil back and forth to scratch an annoying itch close to her tail. “Are we or are we not receiving messages from the mysterious Verfen?”
“We are, that is, we think we are, but the messages are so weak and garbled that we cannot be sure.”
First the new recurring dream-visions of entering huge alien jaws, then the methane raiders, and now messages from the Verfen. There was nothing she could do about the vision.
The raiders were being coped with by the Castorian and human patrols on the fringes of Cloise’s atmosphere. But everything she knew about the Verfen disturbed Leri even more than the vision. And now they were sending messages. No one she knew had ever communicated with one, but at least there was a definite precedent for such communication.
“When was the last message received?” she asked finally.
“Three seasons ago,” Ranas answered.
“And you are just now telling me this? Why?”
Ranas shifted his own coil before returning her gaze. “Because, Proctor, we have, or more accurately, our specialists have, been attempting a translation.”
“And why is that taking so long?”
“Leri, what is the matter with you? You know very well why it is taking so long. No one now alive has ever done one before. And those who were trained to do this are working with garbled fragments. The Verfen seem to be concerned with protection, but whose protection and why, we do not yet know. I only told you now so you would be aware of their efforts and might consider other possibilities.”
She stopped scratching and stared at him. “What other possibilities?”
“Our experts agree that we need to take our transceiver equipment outside the atmosphere.”
“What about the raiders?”
“We will arrange for protection. Glights the Castorian has already been notified of the possibility.”
“I see. And you have found volunteers for this?”
“More than we need.”
That surprised her. “Very well, Ranas, you may send the volunteers and the transceiver into space.”
“I will lead them, not send them,” Ranas said simply. “I was the first volunteer.”
She smelled a rush of emotions – fear, dismay, resentment, love, and anger – that filled the chamber with a confusion of scents. Ranas? To space? But why? “But why?” she repeated aloud. “Why are you going?”
“Because I am needed.”
Leri knew he was frightened, but now the strongest thing she smelled from him was the sharp scent of determination. That was the thing she did not understand. “There are others who can fill that need,” she said slowly.
“Yes, but they did not volunteer quickly enough. I have chosen, Leri. Do not try to dissuade me.”
“Then explain to me why you feel this sudden gulping-rush to do something so dangerous? You, who are afraid of space? Why? I want the real reason.”
Ranas tightened his coil and looked past her. “It is as I said, Leri. I was needed, and I was the first volunteer.”
“Can’t you see that is a contradiction,” she said angrily. “Either you were needed and had no choice, or you were a volunteer. I want to know the real reason.”
“I smell your anger, Leri,” he said very slowly, “but it will not force me to give you my personal reason for making this decision. I will go with the specialists and serve them as I can. When they return, I will remain in space with our guard –“
“No! No, Ranas. Don’t say such a thing. I need you here. You hate space, remember?” Her heart was suddenly beating like a night-thumper.
“I hate myself, more,” Ranas said, starting to uncoil. “I bid you good-bye now, Proctor, Leri, mate of my nest.”
For the briefest moment his words froze her in place. Then, without thinking, she struck out and threw her long body toward the entrance, blocking his way. She was angry and very much afraid at the same time. “I have to know,” she said softly. “Are you doing this because of what I said about Weecs?”
“No, mate of my nest, I do it because I must do it for myself. Please let me go now. There is much preparation to be made, and we do not know how long the Verfen will continue sending their message.”
Reluctantly, she pulled herself back from the entrance. “I smell deceit in you,” she said, trying to keep the emotions out of her voice.
He swung his head to hers and rubbed his topscales against her throat. “Good-bye, mate of my nest,” he said lovingly. Then, with a quick turn, he slithered out the entrance and was gone.
His gesture had been so familiar, so intimate, and it had been so long since she had let him rub her, that she was caught in a swell of affection and guilt. And it was the guilt she felt that made her let him go.
Good-bye, he had said, but he had meant good-bye forever. She knew him too well, his scent, and his tones. He felt sure he wasn’t coming back. And he was doing it because of the stupid thing she had said about him not loving her enough to try to rescue her from Exeter.
Stupid. Stupid. They were both stupid, she for having said that and he for letting it goad him into space.
Leri’s inclination was to curl up in a corner and slip into the stupor of grief that was already slipping over her, but she knew that was as stupid as trying to stop him. No, there was only one place she could go for comfort, and that was to her Confidante.
As quickly as she could, she slithered from her chamber through the dark tunnels to the cliff, then carefully down the cliff until she came to her chosen grotto. Without pausing, she slithered into the darkness. As her tail cleared the entrance, a pale light began to fill the grotto and revealed the looming gray bulk of the Confidante.
“Have you needed of exchange?” the Confidante asked.
“No.”
“Would you lik
e it, anyway?”
“Yes, I would “Leri answered. “But first I must ask you a question. Why has my vision gone so wrong?”
“Has it gone wrong, Leri Gish Geril? Or do you wish it to be something it is not?”
Leri shuddered. “I dreamed that I led my people into the jaws of gigantic aliens, but...I felt no shame in doing it. What is happening, Confidante? I don t understand.”
“Do you believe in your vision?” the Confidante asked.
“Yes . . . I did. I guess I still do.”
“Will you let the Isthian mount you now?”
“Yes.” Almost before she said the word, she heard the Isthian scrambling along the floor. Moments later it was up her neck and suckling.
“Can you learn to trust yourself?” the Confidante asked.
“Yes,” Leri answered, enjoying the Isthian’s enthusiasm despite her mood.
“Will you rest now?”
“Yes,” she said. Her body was already beginning to relax. “But the questions. What about the questions?”
“Can you not wait for answers?”
“I can . . . I can.” Then Leri, with the Isthian suckling contentedly on her neck, slept.
17
FOR A FULL DAY FRYE HAD WONDERED what to think about this – new message from his daughter. Either she was crazy, or a traitor, or a patriot, or this new message was some kind of Sondak trick and wasn’t from her at all. Or perhaps it was from her and she was in on the trick.
He didn’t know how to sort out the truth from those options yet, but there were two things he was sure about. Whoever had sent the message had made the connection between himself and his daughter, because the message was signed Barra. Furthermore, that person had found a worm hole in the security around his communications network. The message had come straight to his microspooler.
No matter how he looked at it, the problem compounded itself. If he believed her claim that Sondak was going to invade the Ivy Chain in an attempt to regain control of those systems, he might move his forces in such a way as to fall right into their trap. If he ignored the claim, he could proceed as planned with his own invasion of Sondak. He decided to do nothing about the message. For the time being, that was the only thing that made sense to him.
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