Knights Of The Black Earth

by Margaret Weis

  The computer hummed to itself a moment, then said, a bit stiffly, "Yes, Pilot Luck. I suppose you will be taking manual control now?"

  Harry leaned back comfortably in his chair. "No, no. You handle it."

  The computer's screen actually appeared to glow with pleasure.

  "It is obvious you are a true professional, Pilot Luck. Unlike others I could mention. I perceive no difficulty in making up the time. In fact, I could get us there twenty minutes ahead of schedule."

  "Uh, no," Harry said hastily. "They might not be ready for us. We'd only have to sit in the docking bay and wait."

  "I understand. Please strap yourselves in. We will be taking off in ten minutes. I'll be leaving you now, to begin prelaunch cycle."

  "It's all yours," Harry said complacently.

  The computer busied itself. The hatch sealed shut, lights came on. Life-support began its comforting hiss.

  "Some pilot you are," Xris muttered, taking advantage of the delay to change into the bright yellow coverails. "Sitting there doing nothing. I thought you hated letting computers run things."

  Harry shrugged. "In some cases. In this one, I've made the computer my friend."

  "True. I thought we were in for a fight there."

  "We would have been, with an old XJ model. Those independent-minded computers were a pain in the ass. These XP-28s ..." Harry gave the computer a pat on its console. "You just have to know how to handle them. Most pilots don't. They refuse to relinquish control. Which makes no sense. The computer can handle the mundane stuff--takeoff, landing, routine flights--more efficiently than any human pilot. And, as you can see, it gets a real ego boost. I always work this way with an XP-28. From now on, I can do no wrong."

  Xris granted and ripped a seam out of the shoulder. He was far bigger than the last man to wear this bug outfit.

  Harry cast an admiring glance at the cargo plane's cadaverous, ugly, utilitarian interior. "This plane is a beauty, Xris. I don't suppose we could keep it? I could give it a new paint job."

  "We're going to be in enough trouble already. If anything goes wrong at RFComSec, every ship in the Navy will be on the alert for this craft. We'll use it to throw off pursuit. Once we reach home, we'll set the plane on autopilot and send it back."

  "A real shame." Harry sighed.

  Xris took over the copilot's seat, swiveled around.

  The plane's interior was dark, green, and smelled of chemicals and grease. Since the plane's main function was to transport cargo on short hops, passenger comfort was not a priority. There were no windows, except in the cockpit. Large tracks, designed to wheel heavy equipment on and off, ran from the tail section, down the center, almost to the cockpit. Passengers and crew sat on metal-frame seats bolted to the bulkheads or rested in metal-frame cots attached in the same manner. It was in one of these that Xris had laid the Little One. They had stowed the bug-'bot (as Tycho called them) maintenance machinery in the rear. Everyone was now strapped in, ready for takeoff.

  "How's the Little One, Doc?"

  "He'll live. His people apparently have remarkably thick skulls. A blow like that would have pulverized mine. His is cracked, but not seriously. He's lost a lot of blood and he's going to be unconscious for a while, but he'll wake up with no more than a nasty headache."

  "Not in the middle of the raid, I presume?"

  "Unlikely. We'll be leaving him on board?"

  Xris nodded. The spaceplane lifted off, began rocketing through the atmosphere. The Olicien Pest Control Company was suddenly a bright yellow patch on the fast-receding ground. No one spoke until the plane had cleared the planet's atmosphere, was heading for the Lanes, where they would make the jump to hyperspace. Star-studded blackness surrounded them. At that point, the computer switched off the main thrusters and it was possible to hear again.

  Jamil asked the questions that were on everyone's mind. "So what's the change in plan? How do we manage without the charmer and the erapath? Who's going to keep the guard occupied?"

  "Harry will take Raoul's place," Xris said.

  Harry blinked. He looked as if he'd been hit over the head with a plastisteel pipe. "What? Me? But--"

  "It makes sense," Xris continued. "I want you to stick close to the spaceplane so that if anything does go wrong, you can reach it before all hell breaks loose. As for the guard, just talk to him, that's all."

  "But I don't have the drug!" Harry protested. "Raoul was supposed to drug the guy!"

  "You've got the hypno-spray--"

  "Yeah, right. Some iron-guts Marine lets me waltz up and shove an aerosol can in his face! Right!" Harry was bitter.

  "You'll think of something," Xris said curtly.

  Unstrapping himself, he headed back to the rear cargo bay to double-check the equipment. The others exchanged glances. Discussion over. Quong shook his head.

  "Pilot Luck," said the computer, "we are coming up on the Lanes. Would you care to review my calculations for the jump to hyperspace?" "Uh, yeah. Sure." Glumly, Harry returned to his duties. The spaceplane made the jump. The team members were, for the most part, silent. Xris had not returned from the rear cargo bay area. They could see him, an indistinct shadow brightened by occasional glints of ambient light off metal. They could all smell the rank tobacco smoke. They all concluded rightly--that he wanted to be left alone.

  Quong remained near the Little One. The empath had not regained consciousness. The doctor took the opportunity to examine his comatose patient. Speaking into a handheld recorder, he entered all his newly discovered information on the physiology of a Tongan.

  Jamil found a cot, stretched out for a nap.

  Harry, hunched morosely in the pilot's seat, was playing games with the computer.

  Tycho came forward, tossed avid cassette in Harry's lap. "Here, I found this when I was back at the bug place. I figured I'd give it to Raoul, but it looks like maybe you could use it."

  Harry picked up the vid, glanced at the title and groaned.

  Fleas: The Immortal Enemy.

  CHAPTER 15

  When the speed of rushing water reaches the point where it can move boulders, this is momentum.

  Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  "Pilot Luck, we are entering the one-light-year exclusion zone around the RFComSec space station. I have already obtained preliminary clearance through flight operations, but security would like to speak to the person in charge. They have scanned us," the computer added with maddening complacency, "and they have some questions."

  Harry glanced at Xris, seated in the copilot's chair.

  "Relax. I expected as much." Xris leaned forward. "Put me through."

  The computer complied and the next voice they heard was RFComSec.

  "Olicien Two Five Niner, this is Approach Control. Are you receiving me?"

  Xris spoke calmly. "This is Olicien Two Five Niner. We are on approach to your station on our regularly scheduled pest extermination visit. We've given you the security passwords and clearances. Is there a problem, Approach Control?"

  "No, Olicien Two Five Niner. All that's fine. But according to our scans, you're not the regular crew, plus you're short-handed. There's normally seven."

  "Approach Control, the regular crew has been stranded on Clinius. They were doing a job on that planet when their ship was struck by lightning. Fried the electrical circuitry. My crew was the only crew with the requisite clearances to act as replacements for this one trip,"

  Xris chewed on a twist. If Approach Control was the least bit suspicious and tried to check up on them through Olicien, this trip was going to be a short one. But he was counting on the fact that this sort of incident couldn't be all that unusual. In twenty years of flea eradication, there must have been times when the regular crew didn't show. Danm it, it wasn't that big a deal!

  Let it go right, Xris pleaded silently with Fate. You owe me this one. Let it go__

  "Olicien Two Five Niner, you are cleared to Shuttle Bay One."

  Harry exhaled loudly. "You know the procedu
re, XP-28. Take us in."

  Quong came forward into the cockpit, a subcutaneous inserter in his hand. "Gentlemen, it is time for me to insert the communicators."

  Harry grimaced, rubbed the back of his neck. "Jeez, I hate those damn things! It hurts like hell going in and I always end up with a rash. I think I'm allergic. Why can't we just use our regular commlinks?"

  "Because the real exterminators wouldn't have sophisticated equipment like that," Xris answered. "We didn't find any type of communication devices in the equipment they had ready to load on board. It's likely they just use the station's internal communication system. Make sure, when you talk into these, that no one hears you."

  "I know. I know," Harry grumbled. "But won't they hear us anyway? I mean, with all the fancy scanning equipment they've got on board, aren't they likely to pick up our signal?"

  "The odds are against it." Jamil joined them in the cockpit. "Remember, the arrival of the exterminators on RFComSec is a common occurrence. People are used to it; they're complacent. They won't be looking for trouble and unless you're scanning specifically for this type of transmission, you won't find it."

  "It's a chance we'll have to take. Which means we keep communication down to the bare minimum. High urgency/ need-to-know only. Besides"--Xris patted Harry on the knee--"you're going to keep the guard so enthralled with your scintillating conversation that he wouldn't notice a direct hit from a plasma cannon."

  "Yeah." Harry snorted. He flinched when Quong placed the cold metal inserter on his skin behind his ear, yelped when the device went in. "It's the sound I hate. Thump! Like it hits bone or something."

  "It's all in your head," Quong said, and laughed loudly at his own joke.

  He was the only one. Harry didn't get it. Xris didn't hear it. He was staring fixedly at the space station. "Xris ..."

  He glanced around. "What? Did you say something, Doc?"

  "I'll need to make adjustments to your receiver to put you on the same frequency," Quong repeated patiently. He'd said the same thing three times now.

  Xris tilted his head. The Doc depressed a tiny button in back of the cyborg's left ear, opened a small panel. Using minuscule, delicate tools, Quong made the necessary adjustments.

  "Okay, boss. Give it a try."

  "Right, listen up. Does everybody hear me?"

  Harry nodded, grumbled. "Yeah. It tickles. I hate that damn tickle."

  Tycho's voice reverberated in Xris's ear. "Check."

  Jamil came in next.

  Quong confirmed his with a quick nod. He snapped shut the panel.

  "What do you want me to do with the Little One?"

  "Leave him here. He'll be all right, won't he?"

  "Yes, but that wasn't what I meant. Surely someone on that station is going to ask why only five of us show up for work when they've scanned six life-forms on board."

  Xris swore to himself and at himself. I should have considered that, already made plans. I'm slipping. Too emotionally involved. Yeah, I'm emotionally involved!

  He made a pretense of running a systems check on his cybernetic ann.

  "Good thinking, Doc. Bandage up the little guy's face real good. Hide the bloodstained raincoat and hat. Cover him with a blanket. I'll feed them a line if they ask."

  Quong departed. The others stood around, stating at him.

  Concerned.

  Xris glanced at them irritably. "You guys got nothing better to do?"

  They filtered out.

  "Coming up on the thousand-kilometer marker, Pilot Luck," the computer reported.

  The thousand-kilometer marker was a small navigational buoy placed in the approach lane to guide incoming vessels. Acting as guide was apparently not its only function, however. Strobe lights began to flash.

  "We are being scanned, Pilot Luck," XP-28 informed them.

  "I thought we'd already been scanned," Harry protested.

  "They're looking for weapons," Xris said briefly.

  "Well, they won't find any on board this plane," Harry stated with an accusatory glance at Xris. "They're all stacked neatly in that bloody hangar back at Olicien."

  Xris smiled, shrugged. Leaving the weapons behind had been--and obviously still was--a sore point. When he'd first mentioned that the team would have to enter the facility weaponless ("Naked!" Tycho said indignantly), Xris was afraid he'd have to either call off the project or find a different team. Harry had balked, Tycho and Jamil had argued vehemently. Even Quong, who generally obeyed orders with cold-blooded mechanical precision, had expressed doubts.

  "If everything goes according to plan," Xris had argued patiently, "we won't need weapons. I don't want to take the chance of an innocent person getting hurt. We'll be long gone before anyone ever figures out something's wrong. We stroll in, stroll out. An hour after we've left, Dalin Rowan drops dead. Cause: unknown." This part of the plan had not met with general enthusiasm. "And if something does go wrong?" Jamil had asked. "The station is crawling with armed Marines," Xris had replied lightly. "You won't have any trouble finding weapons."

  "We just can't shoot anyone," Jamil had said glumly.

  "Right."

  The cargo plane flew slowly past the marker.

  Xris reached in his pocket, pulled out a twist, and lit it. The statement that there were no weapons on board wasn't quite accurate. Tycho had brought along the duonamic sights. Xris was armed. His weapons hand and its assorted devices were packed into his leg compartment. Shielded, of course, but a truly sophisticated scanner might just pick them up ....

  Olicien Two Five Niner set off no alarms.

  RFComSec rotated like a pinwheel in space. The central hub, bristling with conununications antennae, transmitters, receivers, was brightly lit. Four arms extended from the hub to an outer ring. This ring--the living area for the three thousand residents of RFComSec--was dark by comparison. Only a few sporadic tiny specs of light, shining through windows, glittered against the darkness.

  "Cutting engines," the computer announced. "We will coast in until the magnetic tractor beams lock on." A slight jolt indicated that this had occurred.

  "Olicien Two Five Niner," came a voice, "you are now under station control."

  Soon, Xris told himself, almost shaking with excitement. In maybe thirty minutes or less, I'll be face-to-face with Dalin Rowan.

  He could swear that he could see Ito's face floating in front of him.

  At the hub's center, a door one hundred meters wide and fifty meters tall began to open. The spaceplane glided into the aperture. The plane's metallic skin shimmered with the reflected energy of the atmospheric integrity force field, which maintained the atmosphere inside the station during the time shuttle bay doors were open. Once the craft was inside, control personnel guided the spaceplane slowly to the middle of the bay, rotated it, and set it down.

  Looking out the plane's viewscreen, Xris read, in Startø dard Military, the words: Unsecured. Quarantine.

  "Damn!" he muttered, blowing smoke. "Quarantine! We've been scanned. Why the hell are we being quarantined?"

  "Maybe they're looking for bugs?" Harry chortled. He prodded the cyborg. "That's a joke."

  "Computer, is this standard procedure?" Xris snapped, in no mood for humor.

  "Yes, sir. We normally enter this area. The plane and its cargo are checked by security. The equipment is scanned here, then the plane is moved over to the loading dock. It's routine."

  Routine! Xris stared at the yellow markings. at the steel doors that were now rumbling shut. Ito's face disappeared.

  I should have asked about the routine, Xris told himself. The one member of the flight crew who has been here-probably a hundred times or more--is the XP-28 flight cornputer. I should have taken the time during the flight to find out from the computer exactly what the landing procedure was. It's what I would have done on any other job. Another error in judgment.

  "Go on back, tell the rest what's going on, and see if they need help with the equipment," Xris told Harry. "I'll be there in a mi
nute."

  Harry hesitated, then said softly, "Sure, Xris." He unstrapped his harness and left.

  "So far, I've been lucky," Xris said aloud to nobody. "The next mistake I make could be the last mistake I make."

  He unclipped the shoulder harnesses holding him into the copilot's chair, stood up, and moved back to the cargo area.

  "Don't worry. There won't be another," he said to himself--and to the memory of Mashahiro Ito.

  The team was assembled, all wearing their yellow coveralls with the large black beetle and OLICIEN PEST CONTROL erablazoned on the back. The Little One, his extraordinarily ugly and battered face concealed by bandages, slept soundly on the cot. Quong had bundled the erapath in bulky blankets to conceal his small stature. The bloodstained fedora and the raincoat had been safely stowed away in a locked compartment.

  "Everyone know what he has to do?" Xris glanced around.

  They all replied in the affirmative. Calm. They were all confident, self-possessed, calm. Xris envied them.

  "This is it, then," he continued. "Harry, go back to the cockpit. Take the plane to the loading dock, then head up to central security ops and start shinoozing about fleas. Computer, open the cargo bay hatch."

  The hatch opened. The loading ramp descended to the deck of the shuttle bay. A Marine lieutenant, backed up by a detail of six armed soldiers, was there waiting for them. The ramp thudded into place. The lieutenant motioned for the pest control team to join him. They all clumpPal down the ramp.

  "Who's in chargeT' the lieutenant asked.

  "I am," Xris said, stepping forward. He extended his good hand. "Aaron Schwartz."

  The lieutenant shook hands cordially, glanced at Xris with only minimal curiosity. The Marine had obviously seen his share of eyborgs.

  The yellow coverails effectively hid Xris's metal leg. He had attached his tool hand, however, equipped with drill and screwdriver and other instruments--routine, with one small exception. The thumb was a special design, housed a tiny needle. When activated by contact. the needle popped out, injected a delayed-action lethal drug.