by Timothy Zahn
"Are you going to attack those men by yourself?" Taneem persisted.
"And thank you especially for trusting me," he added. Come on, now—up and at 'em. We've got work to do."
Reluctantly, Taneem touched his hand and slid up onto his skin. He stepped back to the grille and slipped his hand into the duct, and Taneem slid off again into the narrow space. "Thank You for protecting me," Taneem said.
"My pleasure," Harper said quietly. "And my honor." He wiggled his fingertips at her. "Now scoot." Pulling his hand out, he closed the grille.
For another minute Taneem stayed where she was, watching as he sat back down on the bed and began scratching at the inside of his upper right thigh. Exactly the same way, she remembered that he'd scratched at his forearms just before he pulled away those pieces of pretend skin.
And sure enough, as she watched he pulled away an identical flap from his leg.
She waited until he'd pulled a similar flap from his other leg. Then, as he gathered his clothing and began to get dressed, she finally moved away down the duct, her heart heavy.
Something bad was about to happen. Something very bad.
And somewhere deep inside her, Taneem knew she'd never see him again.
"Jack?"
Jack jerked awake, blinking his eyes violently. In that first confused moment he tried to bring his hands up to rub his eyes and wondered why he couldn't.
Then his brain cleared a bit, and he remembered. He was in a vac suit, hung up on a bulkhead like a slab of fresh meat, locked inside a half-wrecked troop carrier with a bunch of Brummgas. Had been all that, in fact, for the past three days.
"Jack, can you hear me?"
He tensed, this time coming fully awake. It wasn't Draycos's voice speaking directly to his mind, as he'd first thought.
It was Langston's voice, coming from the comm clip on his collar.
"Langston?" he croaked back, his mouth dry from his sleep. For a second he had a flash of fear, wondering if Langston's voice was even now being transmitted straight to Neverlin via the radio in Jack's suit.
But no. Neverlin had shut off his radio, and none of the Brummgas who'd been changing his oxygen tanks over the past three days had bothered to turn it back on.
"Yes," Langston confirmed. "I just wanted to take a moment to thank you and Draycos for everything you did for me on Semaline."
"No big deal," Jack said, frowning. Why was Langston doing this? More important, why was he doing it now?
"It most certainly was," Langston said. "Draycos nearly got himself killed in the process. So did you, for that matter. Anyway, I wasn't sure I'd ever thanked you properly. So this is it."
"You're welcome," Jack said. At the edges of his mind he could feel Draycos listening silently but alertly. "What's going on out there?"
"Our group's about to be deployed," Langston said. "That means that Neverlin's false starts are over, which means we're finally at the real rendezvous point."
Something cold closed around Jack's heart. "And?" he asked carefully.
"Someone has to stop these people," Langston said, his voice hard and determined. "But we're going to need help. I'm going to try to call that help."
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked. "Langston?"
"He's talking about sending a message," a new voice put in quietly. "In the only way any of us can."
Jack blinked. Was that—? "Harper?" he demanded.
"But you're too late, Langston," Harper went on, a touch of grim humor coloring his voice. "You hear me? You be a good boy, and play it cool, and stay in formation. I've got this one."
"Now, what are the two of you talking about?" Jack demanded. "Come on—someone talk to me."
"I appreciate the offer, Harper," Langston said. "But this isn't your fight."
"It's very much my fight," Harper said softly. "Besides, I've already burned all my bridges behind me. I can't be of any more use in this war. But there's a chance you can be."
"But—"
"No buts, soldier," Harper said firmly. "You're still a StarForce officer. Consider this an order."
There was a faint hissing sound as one of the two men exhaled at the comm clip. "Understood, sir," Langston said, his voice stiff and formal and unhappy. "Good luck, sir."
There was a double click as both comm clips shut off. "What the blaze was that all about?" Jack snarled, fear and uncertainty and helplessness rising in his throat and threatening to choke him. "Draycos? What was that all about?"
I don't know, the K'da's voice came grimly in his mind. But nothing good. I'm afraid, Jack, that the battle has begun.
"Hammerfall groups have reached their positions," Frost reported, half-turning to face Neverlin and Alison. "Backstop ready to deploy."
"I trust you approve of our tactical landscape?" Neverlin asked Alison.
He was half-joking, Alison knew. But only half. He and Frost and the Valahgua had clearly worked out all this in advance, probably months ago.
But the opinion of General Davi's daughter was apparently still worth something. Even if only for amusement value. "Looks reasonable enough," she said. "Your three main forces—the Hammerfalls—are set in a wide triangle formation behind you, perfect for herding you toward the refugee fleet. They're also positioned far enough back that they won't overtake you before you get there. That's the tricky part, really—making it look like they're trying to get to you when they really aren't."
"True," Neverlin said. "On the other hand, the K'da and Shontine aren't going to know how fast Djinn-90s, KK-29s, and Rhino-10s can fly"
"Point," Alison conceded. "At the same time, you don't want them so far back that they'll overtake you too slowly. That might give the K'da and Shontine too much time to stop and think while you're barreling toward them."
"Which is the reason for the five Djinn-90s of the Backstop group," Neverlin said, clearly pleased that he and Frost had anticipated that question and had an answer ready for it. "As our supposed rear guard, they can move up toward us if we need the Hammerfall groups to speed up, or else fall back if we need them to slow down."
"Clever," Alison said. She'd already figured that out, actually, but it wouldn't hurt to stroke Neverlin's ego a little. "You can't risk any direct radio communication with the Hammerfall ships—the K'da would definitely find that suspicious if they spotted it. This way all the Hammerfall Leaders have to do is monitor the Backstop group's position relative to the Advocatus Diaboli and they'll know what you want them to do."
"Exactly," Neverlin said. "The Lordhighest doesn't think the fleet would pick up a tight beam pointed at such angles, but it's better to be safe than—"
"Sir!" the Advocatus Diaboli's captain spoke up sharply. "We've got lifepod separation. Number two, port-side bow."
"What?" Neverlin demanded, crossing over to stand behind him. "Who in—?"
"Never mind who," Frost cut him off. "Where's he going?"
"He's curving around," the captain reported, peering at his displays. "Looks like he's trying to—correction: he's curving around again. Picking up speed."
"Evasive!" Frost barked. "Backstop group—emergency close and engage!"
"What's going on?" Neverlin demanded. "Frost?"
"He's going to ram," Frost snarled. "I said evasive, frunge you."
"Trying, sir," the helmsman shot back. "We're not as maneuverable as he is."
"Backstop?" Frost snapped.
"Backstop Leader," a tight voice came back. "We're out of position, Colonel. No way to get to him in time without hitting you."
Frost glared at the displays, muttering under his breath. Then, abruptly, he turned on the Lordhighest. "The Death," he ordered. "Get him with the Death. Now!"
"You do not order us in that tone—"
"To blazes with my tone!" Frost snapped. "Just kill him."
For a moment the Valahgua gazed at him. Then, he muttered a pair of guttural-sounding words toward his shoulder. There was a slight flicker of the bridge lights—
"Got
him," the captain announced. "Helm: hard about."
"Too late," Neverlin said, pointing at the display. "He's going to hit."
The captain must have seen that, too. "Collision!" he shouted. "All hands!"
Lunging to the nearest console, Alison grabbed the handgrip and braced herself.
A fraction of a second later, the lifepod hit.
It wasn't a big impact, not nearly as big or violent as Alison had expected. The Advocatus Diaboli shuddered like a dog giving a final shake as it shed the last bit of water after a dip in a cold lake. But the bridge didn't fill with the screaming of the hull-breach alarm, or even the slightly less strident hooting of the decompression warning.
She took a careful breath, feeling slightly ridiculous. Given the urgency of Frost's warning, she'd expected something a lot more dramatic.
Neverlin apparently had, too. "Is that it?" he asked, sounding flustered and more than a little annoyed.
"No, that is not it," Frost bit out. "Captain, get someone to the InterWorld transmitter and shut it down."
"Shut it down?" Neverlin put in. "But it's not on."
"You worthless fool," Frost snarled at him. "What do you think an emergency beacon is?"
Neverlin stiffened. "Oh no."
"Exactly." Snarling a curse, Frost left the bridge at a dead run.
"What has happened?" the Valahgua demanded. "Neverlin, explain."
"Later," Neverlin said, starting to follow Frost.
"Not later," the Valahgua insisted. "Now."
With a visible effort, Neverlin slowed to a stop. "This ship is equipped with an emergency distress beacon," he ground out. "That beacon is connected to our InterWorld transmitter. In an emergency—such as a lifepod ramming our hull—it sends out a signal that anyone within range can pick up."
He glared at Alison. "And can trace."
"Don't look at me," Alison warned. "Whatever happened, it wasn't my—"
She broke off as a brief staccato of shots sounded in the distance. What in the world? "Whatever happened, it wasn't my doing," she went on, fighting to keep her voice calm and even. The daughter of Aram Davi shouldn't be startled by a little random gunfire, after all. "I suggest you or Colonel Frost start by taking a head count and finding out who's missing."
"No need," Neverlin said bitterly. "It was Harper. It had to be him."
Alison felt her stomach tighten. Harper. Of course. "All by himself?" she asked pointedly. "An interesting trick."
"Braxton's full of interesting tricks," Neverlin said. But there was a glint in his eye as his gaze drifted around the bridge.
Across the bridge, the door opened and Frost reappeared. "The transmitter's been shut off," he said. "If we're lucky, we got it fast enough that no one was able to get a solid fix on it."
"That was my transmitter you were shooting at?" Neverlin demanded. "Blast it all, Colonel—"
"Would you rather have Harper's friends drop in on us while we're in the middle of looting the refugee ships?" Frost asked. "If someone followed Harper to Point Two they're only four days away."
Neverlin's lips pressed together into a thin line. "Captain, get your men busy making repairs to the InterWorld transmitter," he growled.
"Yes, sir," the captain said.
Neverlin looked at Alison. "And once it's back together, have them disconnect the emergency beacon system," he added.
"Do not fear the friends of our enemies," the Valahgua said. "If any come, they will die as surely as will the K'da and Shontine."
"Let's just hope your K'da and Shontine are on time," Frost put in darkly. "If they're late, we could end up being caught between two different groups of enemies. That's generally considered a bad idea."
"Do not lecture me on military truths," the Valahgua said stiffly. "And do not concern yourself with such matters. If our enemies arrive together, they will die together."
"I'm sure they will," Neverlin said before Frost could answer. "Meanwhile, we have our final few ships to deploy."
"Not yet," the Valahgua said. "You have tracked the lifepod that carried the traitor?"
"I don't know," Neverlin said. "Captain?"
"Yes, sir, we have its trajectory," the captain said, peering at his displays.
"You will retrieve it," the Valahgua said. "Send your ships now."
"Lordhighest, all we have available right now are the five Djinn-90s of the Backstop group," Frost reminded him. "Everyone else is over a thousand miles behind us at the three Hammerfall start points."
"If you're worried about the refugee fleet spotting it, we can simply destroy it," Neverlin offered.
"You will retrieve it intact," the Valahgua said. "We have never before used the Death on a human. I wish to study exactly how its effect has been."
Neverlin looked at Frost, and Alison could sense a sudden uneasiness in both men. "There's no need to make a full investigation," Neverlin said, his voice studiously casual. "You told me you and your colleagues would be leaving as soon as the K'da and Shontine were destroyed."
"There is science to be done, Neverlin," the Valahgua said. "The science will be done. Retrieve the lifepod and the body."
Neverlin's lip twitched, but he nodded to Frost. "Go ahead, Colonel," he said, again working at sounding casual. "I'm sure your pilots can figure out some way to grab the lifepod."
For a half-dozen heartbeats Frost continued to glower at the Valahgua. Then, with clear reluctance, he gestured to the captain. "Feed Backstop Leader the lifepod's trajectory and order him to retrieve it," he said shortly. He looked back at Neverlin. "Anything else?"
"No, that will be all." Neverlin turned to Alison. "Would you care to sit in on the autopsy?"
"No, thank you," Alison said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my stateroom for a while and get some rest."
"Good idea," Neverlin said, his eyes suddenly thoughtful as he gazed at her. "Yes. A very good idea."
As always, Alison gave her stateroom a quick sweep with her sensor as soon as she was inside. As usual, she found they'd planted another bug while she'd been out. Dealing with it, she lay down on the bed.
And let her heartache wash over her.
It was all going wrong. All of it. Spectacularly and devastatingly wrong. Taneem was probably dead, drifting off into that strange fourth-dimensional world, all because Alison hadn't been able to break free from Neverlin and Frost in time. Jack and Draycos didn't seem to have made any move to take over the troop carrier, like she'd expected them to. Maybe Neverlin had changed his mind and they were dead, too.
And Harper was dead. Killed quickly, quietly, and efficiently by the Valahgua and their monstrous Death weapon.
It was all coming apart.
And it was all her fault.
What in space had ever made her think she could pull off something like this, anyway?
She didn't know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling and condemning herself and her failures. All she knew was that she was suddenly startled out of a light doze by a soft scratching at the ventilation grille.
She bounded off the bed onto her feet, staggering a little as the blood level in her brain dropped briefly before her heart got up to speed again. "Taneem?" she called softly, afraid to hope.
But for once, hope hadn't abandoned her. "Yes," the K'da's familiar voice came back. "May I come in?"
"Of course, of course," Alison said, grabbing the desk chair and pulling it over to the grille. "I don't suppose you still have the screwdrivers we borrowed from Harper?"
"Yes, I've had everything waiting right here," Taneem said. A thin piece of plastic slid into view through one of the openings in the duct. "Here."
Alison took it and set feverishly to work. It was the flat-head screwdriver, not exactly suited to the crosshead bolts the grille was fastened with.
But it was good enough, and Alison was inspired, and within two minutes she had the grille open far enough for her to wedge her hand up into the duct.
Two seconds after that, Tanee
m was once again nestled against her skin.
"Thank God," Alison murmured as she refastened the grille. "Thank God. I was hoping you'd found a safe haven."
"I couldn't get to you," Taneem murmured back. "You were with Neverlin and Frost the whole time."
"I know," Alison said, climbing off the chair and putting it back in its place by the desk. Going back to the bed, she lay down again.
But this time, it was relief that washed through her instead of heartache. "I tried every trick I could think of to get away, but they weren't buying any of them," she went on. "I couldn't even go the bathroom alone for those first few hours. I don't think they completely trusted me back then. Probably still don't," she added, remembering the look on Neverlin's face as she'd left the bridge just now. "All I could do was hope you could find a sleeping crewman or someone else you could borrow long enough to get by." She was babbling like an idiot, she knew. But strangely enough she didn't care. "I tried to point you forward toward the crew section a couple of times—did you notice?"
"I did better than that," Taneem interrupted her gently. "Harper let me stay with him." She paused, and Alison winced with the sudden sadness she could sense in her friend. "He's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," Alison said, fresh tears misting across her eyes. "He died trying to save Draycos's people."
"Did he succeed?"
Alison swallowed hard. "Not by himself," she said. "Maybe not even with all the rest of us to help."
She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "But it's not over yet," she added firmly. An hour ago, all her hope had been gone. But now some of it was back. Maybe enough of it. "Not by a long shot."
There was a soft knock on the door. "Hide," she whispered urgently to Taneem as she stood up. She waited until the K'da had settled herself out of sight beneath her clothing, then keyed the door open.
It was Neverlin. To Alison's mild surprise, he was alone. "Ms. Davi," he greeted her courteously. "May I come in?"
"As you wish," Alison said, stepping back out of the doorway, her heart thudding suddenly in her chest. Could he have recognized her, as Frost had back on Brum-a-dum? "Please; sit down."