by Timothy Zahn
Harper had listened closely to the story of the K'da/Shontine refugee fleet, the betrayal of Draycos's advance team, and their various run-ins with Neverlin and his fellow conspirators. Through it all he'd nodded at the right spots, been intensely interested at the right spots, and expressed amazement or outrage at the right spots.
But there was something about the man that still bothered Jack. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"And Kayna has been your partner in all this?" Harper asked.
"Yes, at least starting with Rho Scorvi," Jack told him. Maybe that was what it was. Maybe it was Harper's preoccupation with Alison that didn't quite feel right. It was almost as if, to him, the survival of Draycos's people was only a footnote to the main story. "Though mostly she's been a pretty unwilling ally," he added, deciding on the spur of the moment that it might be better for Alison if he downplayed her role.
"I don't doubt it," Harper said dryly. "I wonder what her reasons are for sticking around."
Draycos stirred. "Alison has been a good and faithful friend," he said. His tone was mild, but there was a familiar edge beneath it. Apparently it hadn't occurred to him to distance Alison from them.
"I'm sure she's behaved admirably," Harper said. "I'm simply wondering what she's looking to get out of this."
"You think she's the profiteering type?" Jack asked, probing delicately. So far, Harper had been conspicuously silent about what he knew about Alison.
"That's certainly been her history with Braxton Universis," Harper said. "About ten weeks ago she broke into one of our computer systems and made off with a highly valuable trade secret."
"You're certain it was her?" Draycos asked.
"Positive," Harper said grimly. "Because a week after that, she walked right into one of our research labs and walked out again with some actual hardware. That time we got her on camera."
"And I suppose you want the stuff back," Jack said. "Is that why you were at the Avrans City spaceport on Bigelow a couple of months ago?"
Harper's forehead creased slightly. "How did you know about that?"
"Because I saw you," Jack said. "Alison had just sprung me from the Malison Ring recruiting station and we were heading back to her ship. She spotted you hanging around and talked me into taking her for a ride to Rho Scorvi instead."
"Really," Harper said, eyeing Jack closely. "You hadn't mentioned that part of your story."
Jack shrugged. "It didn't seem important."
"Everything Kayna does is important," Harper said. "Including whatever she's up to right now. You do know where she is, don't you?"
"Not really," Jack said truthfully. He had no idea where exactly the Advocatus Diaboli was, after all. "But enough about Draycos and me. What's your story?"
"You've basically just had it," Harper said. "Kayna stole something from Braxton Universis. I was sent to find her and retrieve it. Along the way I discovered she'd linked up with you, who Mr. Braxton was already interested in."
"Why?"
"Because you'd saved his life," Harper said, looking puzzled. "Mr. Braxton notices things like that. Anyway, I was told to watch you and see if and when Kayna showed up. When you got arrested, I decided to get you out, so I went to the Patri Chookoock and spun him a soap bubble. He bought it, and we're here. End of story. So where do you think Kayna might be?"
"She might be almost anywhere." Jack looked over at the dayroom's computer module. "Uncle Virge? What do you think?"
"I don't know, Jack lad," the computerized personality said thoughtfully. "He's certainly taking the whole story very calmly."
"You mean like he's heard it all already?" Jack suggested, watching Harper's face closely.
The other's expression didn't even twitch. "That's ridiculous," he said.
"Is it?" Jack countered. "You may not have noticed—actually, I suppose there's no way you could have noticed—but I kept the story to only the stuff Neverlin and his buddies already know."
"As a matter of fact, I did notice some fuzziness in places," Harper told him. "But someone in your line of work must know that lack of reaction alone isn't a solid indicator. Of guilt, or anything else."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "My line of work? Excuse me, Mr. Harper. My line of work at the moment is trying to stop genocide."
Harper inclined his head. "My apologies. As I said, Mr. Braxton is interested in you. His backcheck of you and your uncle was most thorough." His face softened. "You've obviously been through a lot. I understand that."
"And I understand when someone's trying to change a subject," Jack countered. "That's point number two against you. Point number three is that even though you seem to know all this, you still made an effort to look as if you didn't."
Harper shook his head irritably. "This is ridiculous," he bit out. "Fine. If I'm not who I say, then who am I?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Because if I'm with Neverlin—"
In a single smooth motion Draycos sprang to his feet and leaped in front of Harper, landing practically in the man's lap. His front paws caught on the other's forearms, his claws digging lightly but with clear warning into Harper's sleeves. His bared teeth were inches from Harper's face.
"I'd advise you not to try anything stupid," Jack warned, standing up. "I've seen those claws cut through solid metal."
"So have I," Harper said, keeping perfectly still.
"Really?" Jack asked, crossing over to him and patting him down. His hand touched a small flattened cylinder in Harper's coat pocket near the other's right hand. "When?"
"Don't you remember?" Harper asked. "He scratched something in the base of Mr. Braxton's rejuvenation cylinder."
"Ah. Right." Nudging Harper's hand aside, Jack dug into the pocket and pulled out the object.
It was exactly what he'd expected from the shape: a palm-grip, two-shot tangler. "What have we here?" he asked the room in general as he held it up.
"It's a tangler," Harper said. "A completely non-lethal weapon, you'll note."
"Which just means whoever hired you wants me alive," Jack said. He pressed the weapon against his palm, noting how neatly and invisibly it nestled there, then dropped it into his own pocket. "At this point, that's not all that encouraging."
"Jack, use your head," Harper said patiently. "If I was working for Neverlin's crowd, why in Orion's armpit would I have brought you out of that holding cell and into the upper part of the police station where we would have a better chance at escape? Why not just leave you behind plastic until the paperwork was done, then take you out in a car where your ship's rather illegal collection of firepower couldn't have done anything without killing you?"
There was a short silence. "He has a point," Draycos said.
"I agree," Jack said. "I also notice you haven't let him up from that chair."
The K'da's tail lashed the air. "At this point, I'm not inclined to take chances."
"I agree with that, too," Jack said. "I guess our options are to handcuff him here in the dayroom or handcuff him to the cot in Alison's cabin." He raised his eyebrows at Harper. "Feel free to jump in with a vote."
"You're making a mistake. Jack," Harper said, his voice low and earnest. "I can be of great help to you. I'll prove myself any way you want—just tell me how."
For a long moment Jack was tempted. With Neverlin, Frost, a bunch of Malison Ring mercenaries, and at least three hundred Brummgas against them, he and Draycos were sorely in need of fresh allies.
But Draycos was right. It was way too late to start taking chances. "Sorry," Jack said. "Even if I knew what side you're on, I have the feeling that side could shift without much warning."
"I understand," Harper said. "Actually, in all honesty, I'd probably do the same in your place. I won't make trouble."
"Not that you could," Jack said. "Draycos, watch him."
Jack left the dayroom and went to the rear of the ship's living space, where all his theft and safecracking equipment was stored. Digging out two sets of handcuffs, he returned to the
dayroom and cuffed Harper's left wrist and right ankle to the chair. "That should do for now," he said as he stepped back again. "We'll try to come up with something more permanent later that'll let you eat and sleep more or less comfortably."
"I'll look forward to it," Harper said dryly. "Can you at least tell me why we're going to Bentre?"
"I don't even know myself," Jack said candidly. "Uncle Virge?"
"I don't know if I should," Uncle Virge said hesitantly.
"It's fine," Jack said. "Just tell us."
"Alison called while you were in jail. She found out that Neverlin has twelve newly purchased KK-29 system patrol ships waiting to be picked up from the Progline Skyport on Bentre. She also gave me the name they're registered under."
Jack frowned at Draycos. "Does that mean Frost has given up on the idea of hijacking ships from Driftline?"
"She didn't say," Uncle Virge said. "All she said was that you should try to get to Bentre ahead of Neverlin and sabotage the ships."
"What are these spacecraft like?" Draycos asked.
"Six-man fighters, though one can fly it in a pinch," Harper said. "Pilot, copilot, and four blister gun stations, two on either side."
"Sounds like some serious firepower," Jack said.
Harper shrugged. "Serious enough," he said. "Just how well armed is this fleet of yours, Draycos?"
"Extremely well," Draycos said grimly. "But if the Valahgua are able to get close enough to use the Death, all their weaponry will be useless."
"I still don't get this Death thing," Harper said. "How can this beam thing go straight through armor plating like it's not there? Wouldn't something that penetrates hull metal more easily than even gamma rays also tend to go straight through the crewers without causing much damage?"
"The Death is not a form of radiation," Draycos said. "It's possibly a vibration of space itself, which seeks out the core of a living being and destroys that core and its connection to the rest of the universe."
Harper snorted. "Can we steer clear of the philosophy aspects?" he asked. "I'm looking for the physics of the thing."
"I don't know the physics." Draycos paused, his tail arched in thought. "Perhaps an analogy would help. Suppose you wished to destroy the center of a planet. A normal weapon would first have to blast away layer after layer of crust and mantle until the core was exposed. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Harper said. "So?"
"The Death does things differently," Draycos said. "In this analogy, it would be like a weapon that could ignore the outer planetary layers and seek out and destroy the core directly."
"That would be some weapon," Harper acknowledged. "But living beings aren't planets."
"No, but we all have a core of life within us," Draycos said. "Somehow, the Death is able to focus on that core."
"Still sounds like magic," Harper declared. "But never mind that. If you're right about its range being only a couple of hundred miles, the K'da and Shontine ought to be able to take out Neverlin's force long before they can get close enough to use it."
"Especially if we can get to Bentre and eliminate the ships he's planning to pick up there," Uncle Virge added.
Jack scratched his cheek. A rather outrageous plan was starting to form in the back of his mind. "Who, said anything about taking them out?" he asked.
Draycos and Harper both looked sharply at him. "Alison did," Uncle Virge said, his voice as wary as Draycos's expression. "She was very specific."
"I'm sure she was," Jack said. "But why destroy them when they can be more useful in one piece?"
"If you're thinking you can get the refugee rendezvous from their course settings, forget it," Harper warned. "Neverlin's bound to have at least two midway points along the way."
"I know," Jack said. "That just means we'll have to hitch a ride."
"Hitch a ride?" Uncle Virge all but gasped. "Jack lad, there's nowhere in one of those things where you can possibly hide."
"And even if you could find a spot, what then?" Harper added. "It's going to take days to reach wherever they're going. You going to sit there quietly that whole time?"
"Something like that," Jack said. "Draycos? You game?"
"I don't know what exactly you have in mind," Draycos said. "But I have no better suggestions to make. At any rate, we have three and a half days to work out a proper plan."
"Make it four," Jack said. "We'll want to skulk around a bit first and check out the area."
"Four days, then," Draycos said. "Regardless, I'm with you."
Uncle Virge gave a snort. "And these were the two," he muttered, "who were so keen on not taking chances."
CHAPTER 8
Bentre was exactly the way Jack had expected: quiet and sparsely settled. Best of all, it was inhabited by the mostly easygoing Compfrins, who usually didn't ask awkward questions.
It was the perfect place, in other words, for someone planning genocide to pick up a few attack ships.
"Ah, yes—the spacecraft for Sidj Kimtra Varn," the manager of the Progline Skyport said, peering at his computer display. "Twelve KK-29s, surplused from the Grimnau Customs Office." He peered intently at Jack's face. "You are not Sidj Warn, are you?"
"No, I just work for him," Jack said. Human faces were hard for Compfrins to distinguish between, but he wasn't quite ready to try to pass himself off as either Neverlin or Frost.
"Allow me then to greet you and welcome you to Bentre," the manager said. He pulled out a handful of papers and a stylus and pushed them across his counter toward Jack. "Here are the release-and-possession forms that must be completed. I trust you brought a pilot for each vessel? These craft cannot be slaved together as some ships can."
"Yes, I know," Jack said, gently pushing the papers back toward him. "Actually, Sidj Varn just asked me to stop by and make sure the ships were here and ready to go. Another group will be coming by later to actually take possession."
"You will save them valuable time if you complete the forms now," the Compfrin suggested, pushing the forms back again.
Compfrins weren't nosy, Jack reflected, but they could definitely be pushy. "The other group will do that," Jack said firmly, trying to imagine Neverlin's reaction to the news that someone had stopped by his secret-weapons stash and done his paperwork for him. "And I really must go."
He left the office before the manager could protest further. So we know now that Frost's men haven't already retrieved them, Draycos's thought whispered into Jack's mind.
Getting in ahead of the opposition is always a good start, Jack agreed, looking around. The spaceport had a dozen somewhat dilapidated hangars of various sizes scattered across the grounds, including the one where he'd parked the Essenay. Filling the space between the hangars were a variety of other vehicles. Most of them were light personal aircraft, anchored to the ground by thin wires to protect them against gusts of wind.
Should be that one over there, Jack said, nodding toward the westernmost of the hangars as he got into one of the rental carts lined up outside the office. He dropped some coins into the slot and got a grip on the steering lever. Let's go see what kind of bargain Neverlin got.
They had passed the last line of tethered aircraft between them and the hangar when the comm clip on Jack's collar suddenly came to life. "Jack lad, I'm picking up a shuttle with Brummgan markings, coming in from the west," Uncle Virge said tightly. "Could be Frost's pilots."
Jack shot a look over his shoulder at the sky. "How close?"
"Close enough," Uncle Virge said grimly. "You need to get under cover, right now."
Jack looked around. Problem was, there was no cover, at least nothing he could get to quickly.
But there was something he could use as camouflage. "Right," he said, shifting direction toward a group of airplanes about fifty yards from the east side of Neverlin's hangar. "Any idea how many Brummgas are aboard the shuttle?"
"My infrareds can't pick out individual bodies through that kind of hull," Uncle Virge said. "But if we assume twelve pilots pl
us the shuttle's own crew, the overall IR sum would say they're all human, not Brummgan."
Jack felt his throat tighten. He'd assumed Frost's buddies would be busy stealing Malison Ring ships, and that Neverlin would assign this particular duty to his tame Brummgas. None of that bunch was particularly clever, and most of them had probably never actually seen Jack.
But many of Frost's mercenaries had. Way too many of them.
So much for his chances of running some sort of scam on them.
What's our plan? Draycos asked.
Jack looked over his shoulder again. The fiery glow of the incoming shuttle's drive could now be seen against the cloud-speckled blue of the sky. There's no time to get to real cover, he told the K'da. So we're going to go with the classic technique of hiding in plain sight.
The shuttle was on its final approach as Jack pulled up to the group of aircraft and stopped. "Uncle Virge, I've got a Lightsparrow-66 here," he said, glancing at the nearest airplane's markings as he got out. "I need the location of any outside equipment bays."
"Right. Give me a minute."
Making sure to keep his face away from the incoming shuttle, Jack stepped around to the back of his cart and opened the storage compartment. It was mostly empty, but in one corner he spotted a forgotten screwdriver and a socket wrench. "Uncle Virge?" he prompted, scooping them up.
"Both wing engine pods have access ports on their inboard sides," Uncle Virge reported. "Three bolts along the top, then swing down the panel."
Jack looked at the nearest engine pod, spotted the three bolts. "Got it," he said, turning to it and setting to work with his borrowed screwdriver. He was facing the hangar now, which would be a little risky when Frost's men started piling out. On the other hand, once Jack got the panel open, it should block his face from anyone who looked in this direction.
Sure enough, as the last bolt came loose the panel swung down just low enough to hide everything above his chin. Draycos? he called silently. Can you see anything?
The K'da moved across his skin, sliding down to where he could look through the neck of Jack's shirt. They're landing near the hangar, he reported. The shuttle's stern is turned toward the door.