Knights Of The Black Earth

by Margaret Weis

  The woman just stared helplessly at him.

  Jamil waved the gun. "Then if there's no cash, you won't mind opening the safe, will you? Or would you rather see me open up your tech's head?"

  Kohli gulped, mumbled, "No, please. Don't hurt--"

  "Move!"

  She moved, opened the safe with her hand print and a coded entry.

  Jamil shoved her roughly to one side. Peering in, he swore loudly. "My God! You're telling the truth. Nothing but plastic." He snatched up the spaceplane's code cards. "Let's see how much you have in your accounts." He thrust the card into the computer.

  "But those aren't credit cards. They only operate--"

  "Operate what?" Jamil demanded, though he knew perfectly well.

  The woman bit her lip, shut her mouth.

  Muttering to himself, pretending to be frustrated over his inability to discover a bank account, Jamil was, in actuality, swiftly altering the code on the cards. This done, he removed them from the computer, slid them into his pocket. "Ah, hell! I'll work on this later. Wait till I get my hands on that Adonian!"

  He pulled the aerosol can out of his pocket. "You're going to take a little nap now, like your friend. You might want to sit in the chair first."

  The woman sank down in the plush chair behind the desk. Jamil sprayed her in the face. She blinked once, and slumped forward.

  Jamil slid the lasgun back into the holster. Opening the office door, he glanced quickly up and down the hall.

  "Yes, I know the way out, Ms. Kohli. Thanks. We'll be in touch."

  Shutting the door, Jamil walked swiftly down the hall.

  "Any trouble?"

  Harry rose to his feet. "Nope, all quiet. You?"

  "Their senior tech spotted one of our guys out by the plane. I sprayed him before he got a good look. Let's get out of here. We're already late."

  "Did you get the cards, make the code change?"

  "In here." Jamil slapped his pocket.

  Harry unlocked the front door. They both walked out into the bright sunshine.

  "Keep me covered," Jamil ordered.

  Harry posted himself outside the front door.

  Jamil opened his briefcase, removed a large canister. On the way into the company, he had looked for and found the building's central air-conditioning unit, located on the roof. Jarnil climbed the maintenance ladder attached to the building's exterior wall. Once on the roof, he placed the canister beside the air intake system, pulled the ring tab on the top of the canisten White smoke began to rise and was immediately sucked into the system's intake. Jamil climbed down, rejoined his partner.

  Harry was on the comm. "Xris, we've got the code cards. We're now leaving the building. Jamil's released the gas. Everyone inside should be sound asleep by now."

  "Good work. When you come, bring the van. There's been a change in plans. Out."

  The two exchanged glances, then each looked at his watch.

  0940.

  It was rather late for a change in plans.

  When the van pulled up to the hangar, Xris was there to meet it. The cyborg yanked open the door on Jamil's side.

  "I'm going to find out what's happened to Raoul. I'll take Harry with me. You and the others load the gear in the plane. Search through the company's flight records--you'll find them in the hangar office. Find the latest codes and approach vectors for today's run."

  Jamil jumped out. Xris, barely waiting for him, climbed inside the van. Tycho and Quong, wearing bright yellow coverails, stood near the spaceplane.

  "What about the clock?" Jamil shouted over the roar of the hovervan's engine.

  "Screw the clock!" Xris yelled. "We need Raoul and the empath! Don't worry. We'll make up the time en route."

  He slammed shut the door. Jamil backed hurriedly away.

  Inside the van's cab, all was quiet. Harry was looking unhappy.

  "Just drive, damn it!" Xris said irritably.

  Harry drove, wheeling the vehicle around so swiftly that the blast from the air jets nearly knocked Jamil off his feet.

  "Where's his hotel? Near here, I hope."

  "Yeah, Xris. Not far. But "

  Xris brought up the computer map. "What's the name? I'll punch it in. Get the fastest route."

  Harry looked even more unhappy. "Uh, that's just it, Xris. I can't remember the name of the hotel. But"--he perked up---"I do remember his room number. Ten-nineteen."

  Xris removed the twist from his mouth. "You what?"

  "I don't remember the name of the hotel, Xris," Harry said miserably. "I'm sorry. I'd had a few drinks. It just didn't register. But the room number. I know that."

  "That's going to be a fucking big help. Do you know how many hotels there are in this bloody city?"

  Xris didn't often swear. Harry's hands tightened on the wheel. He stared straight ahead. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  "I know about where it is, Xris," he said suddenly. "And I know what it looks like. It's a fancy building. I'll know it when I get there."

  Xris drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. "All right. I guess that'll have to do."

  "I'm sorry, Xris. I didn't think it would be important."

  "Just drive, Harry. Just drive."

  0945.

  Harry recognized the hotel--the Grand Aurigan---easily. It was big and elegant. Valets swarmed around the front entrance, eager to relieve travel-weary guests of all their burdens, including their means of transportation.

  "Valet parking, Xris," Harry said, slowing the van to a crawl about a block away from the hotel.

  "We can't risk that," Xris replied. "We're going to need to leave here fast. Drive around."

  They located a side entrance, with only a doorman on duty. Vehicles of all types lined the street. There was no place to park. Harry dropped the van to street level.

  "Stay here. Keep the engine running and your comm on," Xris instructed, jumping out.

  He had removed the tool hand, replaced it with the fleshfoam hand, but had not bothered to change out of his fatigues. The doorman glared at him. "He can't hover there," he said.

  "I'll only be a minute," Xris told him, heading for the door.

  "But--" The doorman started to argue.

  Xris shoved the man aside, yanked open the door. When the elevator didn't arrive fast enough to suit him, the cyborg found the stairs, took them two at a time to the tenth floor.

  He emerged through a fire door, began scanning room numbers. A woman with a small child passed him, both in swimsuits, evidently on their way to the pool. Otherwise, the corridors were quiet, empty.

  "No one around," Xris reported to Harry over the comm. "I was half expecting to find the hallway jammed with cops. But nothing appears to be wrong."

  "The damn Loti took an overdose," Harry returned. "You'll probably find him spaced out of his mind. Or maybe he met someone in the bar last night. Or some thing. I hate to think what you might be walking in on."

  It's possible, Xris agreed, just not probable. In all the years he'd worked with Raoul, the Adonian had never let the team down. Xris halted in front of a large double wooden door with 1019 in brass digits.

  He listened. His augmented hearing would have picked up the flutter of Raoul's false eyelashes. No sound.

  Xris scanned the hall. No one in sight except a cleaning 'bot down at the far end. Removing his lasgun from his shoulder holster, Xris lightly tapped on the door with the barrel.

  "Raoul!" he called.

  He hoped--hoped like hell--the door would open. He'd find the embarrassed and apologetic L9ti trying to kiss him.

  The door remained closed.

  "I'm going in," Xris told Harry.

  Gun in hand, Xris kicked his steel leg into the door, burst it open. Splinters flew. The lock snapped. He dashed in, his gun moving in a tracking arc, looking for targets. He saw nothing more alarming than one of Raoul's hats.

  The room was made up. The beds hadn't been slept in. Raoul's luggage was open, clothes strewn about--on the bed, on the flo
or. A red taffeta cloak was draped over the rid. Xris might have concluded immediately that the place had been trashed, but Raoul's bedroom back home looked exactly the same, only worse. Even an overturned lamp was nothing out of the ordinary, if Raoul happened to be suffering through a bad hair day.

  And then, "Damn it all," Xris said softly.

  "What is it, Xris?" Harry heard the cyborg's ominous tone. "What've you found?"

  Xris didn't answer. Walking over to a cream-colored wall, he examined the large wet splotch, touched it. Then he swore.

  "Blood. And it's fresh."

  "You need me up there?"

  "No. Stay with the van."

  Xris found several more red spots on the carpet, still more in front of the bathroom. Gun raised, he slowly pushed open the bathroom door with the toe of his boot, looked in the mirror on the wall to see if anyone was inside.

  No one was. At least not that he could see from this angle.

  Xris shoved open the door, whipped around it.

  "Dear God in heaven!" he said, appalled.

  "Xfis! What is it? You okay?"

  "I'm fine," Xris said bitterly. "It's the Little One."

  The small figure lay huddled in the bathtub. Blood was spattered all over the walls and the sides of the tub; the raincoat was soaked red, especially around the collar. The fedora was askew on the battered head.

  Gently, Xris removed the hat, to try to get a better look at the injuries. He recoiled in revulsion and shock. Not from the sight of blood or the brutal punishment the small body had taken; Xris had seen people beaten up before. It was the sight of the small body itself.

  "Xris?" Harry was getting nervous. "You better hurry. That doorman's been raising hell about our parking in a nopark zone. What's going on? Is the little fellow dead?"

  "Beats the hell out of me," Xris said, baffled. "At first I thought his face was smashed in. Now I'm beginning to think he was just born this way."

  Kneeling beside the body, Xris put his hand on what he presumed was the neck. He thought he could feel a pulse, but if so, it was faint and thready.

  He glanced swiftly around the bathroom, looking for a towel to stanch the bleeding, saw an object on the counter.

  His lips tightened. He changed his mind about the towel. Shoving the lasgun into its holster, he went back to the bedroom, yanked a blanket off the bed, returned to the bathroom. He worked swiftly, trying to be gentle, but aware that time was ticking away.

  Time for the job. Time for the Little One's life.

  He wrapped the small, bloodied body in the blanket, lifted it easily in his arms. Making certain the blanket covered every part of the Little One, Xris carried the empath out of the hotel room. He took the stairs again, figuring the odds of meeting anyone on the fire escape were slim.

  "Harry, I'm coming out. I've got the Little One with me. See if you can distract that doorman."

  "No need to worry, Xris," Harry returned. "I think he's gone to get the cops."

  Xris made it down the stairs and out the door, practically knocked over a couple entering the building. They looked at him and his burden in startled surprise.

  "Sick kid," Xris said, barreling past them.

  Harry was waiting outside the van. He had the back doors open. Xris laid the Little One inside, then jumped in himself. Harry had already returned to the driver's seat. The van lifted into the air, soared down the block just as the doorman, in company with a traffic cop, rounded the corner.

  "So what's happened?" Harry glanced back worriedly at the blanket-covered body. "Is the Little One dead? Where's Raoul?"

  "I don't think the little fellow's dead, but he's not all that alive, either. We'll take him back to Quong. If anyone can fix him up, it'll be the Doc. As for Raoul ..." Xris paused, then said, "I found his makeup kit on the bathroom sink."

  Harry gave a low whistle, shook his head.

  "The room was a mess, like there'd been a fight," Xris continued. "All his clothes are still there."

  "Raoul wouldn't go to his own funeral without his makeup kit," Harry observed, glanced sideways at Xris. "Except in this case, maybe?"

  "I don't think he's dead." Xris drew the blanket closer around the Little One, tucked it in. "We'd have found Raoul in the same condition as the Little One. The Loti's been snatched. Someone kidnapped Raoul."

  Harry was silent a moment, pondering. Then he said, in all seriousness, "But, Xris ... who would want him?"

  CHAPTER 14

  It is a bad plan that admits of no modification.

  Publitius Syrus, Maxims, 469

  Who in the universe would want Raoul?

  "A good question," Xris admitted.

  "You think it's got something to do with this job?"

  The thought had already occurred to Xris. He'd discarded the notion before he was halfway out the hotel room.

  "Not logical. The people at Olicien sure as hell didn't expect us, did they?"

  Harry neatly maneuvered his way around a lumbering truck. "Nope. They were real surprised."

  "And if the Royal Navy was on to us--say Wiedermann went crazy and tipped them off--they'd be after me. Raoul's made a lot of enemies over the years, but most of those would want him dead. Why take him alive?"

  "Information," Harry guessed. "About us."

  Xris shook his head. "You ever try to get information from a Loti? Half of it you can't believe and the other half you don't want to believe. But that's not the problem."

  "Yeah." Harry grunted. "The job."

  The job. What to do without Raoul and the Little One? Raoul, the charmer, the talker. Raoul, who was supposed to distract the security guard at RFComSec, then shoot him full of dope to keep him from sounding the alarm. And the Little One, who was supposed to read the guard's mind, alert Raoul to possible danger.

  Xris glanced down at the small body. Blood was starting to soak through the blanket. If the Little One survived, he wasn't going to be reading anyone's mind today. And who would he cormnunicate with if he did? The Little One never "talked" to anyone except Raoul.

  Xris swore softly to himself. He should abort the job right now. End it. Give it up. Call it off. The Olicien people would think it was a bungled robbery, leave it at that. Breaking into RFComSec was too dangerous without Raoul and the Little One.

  Too dangerous.

  And yet, Xris said to himself, when will I have this chance again?

  Olicien would be on their guard after this. Plus the Royal Navy--eternally paranoid--would undoubtedly conclude that this "robbery" had something to do with their top-secret space station. They'd tighten security until not even His Majesty could get on base without being strip-searched. What's worse, the Navy might start asking questions ....

  Xris took out a twist, absently chewed on it, stared out the van's window. He was seeing not the Olicien Pest Control factory, which was looming ahead, but another factory. A factory in a swamp. A factory that had become a tomb.

  A tomb for the living, as well as the dead.

  For though they ternled him "alive," the living Xris, the Xris he had been, was buried in the rubble alongside what remained of Ito.

  The van glided to a halt, set down on the tarmac. The rest of the team surged out of the hangar. Xris shoved open the doors.

  "Doc!" he called. "Take a look at the Little One. Harry, start the plane up. The rest of you get on board; Doc and I'll be along in a second. Someone's kidnapped Raoul. We'll have to go without him."

  Harry came around to the back end of the van. Doc was already inside, examining the Little One. Tycho and Jamil looked at Harry, looked at each other, looked at Xris.

  "We are going," Xris said, his voice tight. "We've gone too far to stop now."

  The others nodded, left. Xris couldn't tell whether they agreed with him or were simply too well disciplined to argue.

  Not that it mattered.

  He turned back to the van.

  "Holy Master!" he heard Quong say, and the man sounded awed.

  "Well, Doc? How
is he?" Xris tried to curb his impatience to be gone.

  Quong turned. His almond-shaped eyes were wide; his mouth gaped.

  "Xris, did you know? He"--the Doc gestured at the Little One--"he is a Tongan! I've never seen one before, but I'd stake my professional career on it."

  "I don't care if he's Derek Sagan's grandmother," Xris said acidly. "Is he alive?" "Yes, but--"

  "Can you help him?"

  "I think so." Quong sounded dubious. "I don't know that much about Tongan physiology. No human in our profession does. You see, no one's ever had a living specimen to study. Or a dead one, for that matter. No human has ever been allowed on the planet and, so far as I know, not a single Tongan has been permitted off-planet. This is a rare opportunity--"

  "Save it for your thesis!" Xris snapped. "Let's get him onto the plane!"

  "Certainly, Xris." Quong was calm, efficient. And he was once again eyeing Xris with concern. "If you could carry him. Be careful. Try to support the head .... "

  Xris reached down, lifted the Little One in his arms, and stalked off to the spaceplane.

  "Good morning, XP-28." Harry eased himself into the pilot's chair in the spaceplane's cockpit. "My name is Harry Luck. I'm the new pilot. You might want to adjust your voice activation to my verbal patterns."

  "Good morning, Pilot Luck. Please enter your Olicien authorization number to transfer pilot functions."

  Harry took the code card Jamil had obtained in the Olicien offices, slid the card into the console. A series of letters and numbers appeared on the computer screen, flashed on and off. Then came the word: Proceed.

  "Pilot Luck," said the computer. "Welcome aboard. You must be a new employee. According to my bioscans, the entire cleaning crew is new. One of your people is injured. Why is this person being brought on board? I recommend that he be left on the ground for treatment."

  Xris arrived in the cockpit, pointed grimly to the plane's chronometer. 1030. They were already behind schedule by thirty minutes.

  "I have received and duly noted your recommendation, XP-28," Harry said calmly. "One of our people is a doctor. He's treating our friend now. But thank you for your concem. I'm uploading the flight plan, approach vectors, and the authenticity codes for the flight to the space station. Oh, and we're running a bit late. Bypass the fuel conservation program, if you have to, in order to reach RFComSec on time."