The Bear gazed at them from beneath thick, lowering brows. "Turn yourselves in to the authorities."

 

    "That's not a bad idea, Xris." Jamil spoke up. "We could go to the nearest land-based army unit. Walk in the front door with our hands in the air. Then they'll have to listen to US."

 

    "And what happens to Raoul in the meantime?" Xris demanded.

 

    Olefsky was immediately concerned. "Raoul? What have you done with the Peacock?"

 

    The Bear was fond of the Adonian and of the Little One and would frequently invite them both to the castle. Raoul's burning goal in life was to instill a sense of fashion consciousness in the Olefskys and, although the Adonian found the task daunting, he bravely and resolutely refused to shrink from the challenge. He was constantly carrying over various ensembles, spending fatiguing hours endeavoring to convince Olefsky that smelly deer hide while practical--was not suitable for formal dinner invitations to the Glitter Palace. All of which the Olefsky family found highly diverting and hung the new clothes up on the walls as curiosities.

 

    "Where is the Peacock?" Olefsky peered around.

 

    "Someone snatched him. Beat up the Little One. We don't know why. We don't think it has anything to do with... this other."

 

    The Bear glanced at the Little One, who was clinging to Rowan's uniform jacket. Olefsky noticed, for the first time, the bloodstained bandage. He growled, frowned, paced about thoughtfully, trampling a small end table.

 

    Xris took out a twist, tapped it on his knee. "I won't abandon a member of my team. I signed contracts with all of you and I'll keep my end of the agreement. I'll go after Raoul myself if I have to."

 

    Jamil was defensive. "Damn it, Xris, I didn't mean we should abandon him! You know I'm with you. I was just being--"

 

    "I know." Xris interrupted, softened his tone. "I understand. You were just being logical. I'm sorry, guys. I'm tired. We're all tired. I got you into this. What Jamil says does make sense. Go with him, take his advice. He'll know how to handle it. You'll probably get reduced sentences."

 

    Harry said "No!" loudly and glared at Jamil.

 

    Jamil looked grim and uncomfortable and muttered something to the effect that it was a sound idea and they should consider it.

 

    Quong, his eyes closed, was apparently approaching this as he might have approached the solution to a mathematical equation, even to the point of absently working calculations with slight movements of his fingertips.

 

    Tycho yelled something unintelligible; he'd grown so flustered he'd accidentally switched off his translator. Jamil and Harry both loudly told him to turn it on. "Bear," Xris said quietly, talking beneath the confusion, "I know Dion, remember? Hell, I helped put him on the throne! I swear to you on... on what's left of me"--he held out his flesh-and-blood arm--"that we're not fomenting a revolution. We're not intending to overthrow the king or assassinate him or anyone. May this ann be cut off if I'm lying."

 

    "Yes," the Bear said, "go on."

 

    Xris drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Give me these seventy-two hours to find Raoul and do what I can to straighten out this mess. By the end of that time, no matter what happens, I'll turn myself in."

 

    "You are in great danger, my friend," Olefsky observed. "Not only is the Royal Navy after you, every law officer and bounty hunter in the galaxy will be out to capture you, bring you in--dead or alive." Xris said nothing, had nothing to say to the obvious. Olefsky stared at him, ruminated. Suddenly the Bear leaned forward, smote Xris on the back, a blow that jarred every rivet in the cyborg's body.

 

    "I trust you. I believe you. You have seventy-two hours. What's more, if you need a spaceplane other than that yellow monstrosity in which you landed"--the Bear grinned-"you may borrow one of mine."

 

    "Thank you, Bear," Xris said, offering to shake on it. "You won't regret this."

 

    "I do not think I will." Bear heaved a sigh. Then, clasping firm hold of Xris's good hand, Olefsky added solemnly, "The good God help you if you are lying, laddie. In that instance, I myself will be the one who takes this ann."

 

    The Bear squeezed his bulk back through the door. Alerting his two sons to his presence with a playful blow on the back of each shaggy head, he thudded down the stairs, strode off into the woods. His lumbering sons and the dog crashed along behind.

 

    The Bear's final threat had been emphasized by a crushing grip. Xris could still feel the ache. He had his seventy-two hours. Just what the hell he was going to do with them was currently open to question.

 

    He turned to Rowan. "Yes? What have you got? Did you find Raoul?"

 

    She nodded, gently placed her hand on the Little One's small shoulder.

 

    "He gave you the clue. A research vessel, registered to a university. The name is Canis Major Research I."

 

    The Little One made some sort of guttural, almost feral sound, and nodded so vigorously that the fedora toppled off, revealing the bandaged face. Moving with remarkable swiftness, the empath retrieved his hat, clapped it back on his head. "And how the hell did you figure it out?" Xris asked. Rowan grinned. She was actually enjoying herself. "When the Little One hugged the dog, it occurred to me that what he was trying to tell us had something to do with dogs. What could it be, except the name of the ship?

 

    "Once I knew that, I went into the files of the local spaceport on Auriga, downloaded the names of vessels that had requested landing permission during that particular time period--"

 

    "Wait a minute. You just waltzed in?"

 

    "Well, maybe it wasn't quite that easy." Rowan looked modest. "I'm dead, so far as computer access is concerned. All my passwords have been wiped clean. I can't even log on to my own personal computer in my apartment. But people are always leaving back doors open. It was fairly simple, actually, given what I know. Anyhow, once I had the names, I did a search through the list. Nothing with the word dog turned up. But I was certain it had to be there.

 

    "So was he." She gestured to the Little One. "He was practically glued to me. I knew I was on the right track. So I tried dog in other languages, merged that list with the list of ship names and there was the match--Canis Major. I asked the LiMe One if that was the name and he indicated yes. I asked him if his friend Raoul was on that ship and he nodded yes again."

 

    The Little One was still saying yes. Whenever anybody looked at him sideways he would nod and pound his two small fists together.

 

    Xris glanced at Quong for confirmation. "How reliable is this, Doc? How would a Tongan know the word Canis had anything at all to do with dogs? Unless, of course, Raoul is teaching his little buddy dead languages in his spare time."

 

    "It is very much possible," Quong replied. "Many telepaths use mental imagery to convey their thoughts and read the thoughts of others. They do not need words. For example, Raoul hears the name 'Canis Major,' thinks 'the dog star,' thinks of dogs, bringing up an image in his mind of a dog. The Little One brings up the image of a dog in his mind and attaches that to Olefsky's animal. Major Mohini"-

 

    Quong bowed to Rowan--"searches for names having to do with dogs and, finding one, produces a very strong mental image of a dog in her mind, which is picked up by our small friend."

 

    "I can track the ship, Xris," Rowan offered. "It is a Verdiclass vessel, the kind typically used for research or short hops between planets. It has no hyperspace capabilities, no weapons, no shields. A long-range spaceplane could catch it in, say, eight hours."

 

    Xris took a drag on the twist. "A research vessel. You mean the kind colleges use to go out and chart star systems and study insect life on other planets and all that?"

 

    "That would seem so, given the name," Rowan responded.

 

    Xris snorted. "Then this makes no sense. What the hell are a bunch of egghead professors doing with Raoul? Writing a thesis on the correct shoes to wear with knee-high velvet pants after five?"

 

    "Judging by what they did to the Little One, my friend, this is not a joking matter," Quong observed gravely. "The beating he took was a professional job. They intended to kill him."

 

    "Yeah, I know. I found him, remember?" Xris considered, then made up his mind. "Very well. I'm going to pay a little visit to this Canis Major Research I."

 

    "We're with you, Xris," said Jamil. He looked uncomfortable. "And, uh, about what I brought up earlier, about turning ourselves in. I didn't mean--"

 

    "Forget it. You made sense." Xris massaged his ann. It still ached. "I know everyone's exhausted, but since we only have seventy-two hours, we need to leave right away. We can catch some sleep on the plane. Gather up your gear and let's move out."

 

    The rest left. Xris found himself alone with Rowan. At least as alone as they could be, considering that the Little One was hanging on to Rowan's slacks like a lost child.

 

    Xris decided the best way to go about this was quick, cool, businesslike. "You can't stay here by yourself. It wouldn't be safe. I'll take you over to Olefsky's--"

 

    She was smiling, shaking her head. "I'm coming with you, Xris. I know you don't trust me, but--" "I told you once," Xris interrupted coldly, "I need you alive. Besides, it's not your problem. Raoul's my man and "

 

    "And he's the only way I have to prove to you I'm telling the truth." Rowan rested her hand again on the Little One's shoulder. "He can't tell you what I'm thinking and feeling. I'm not sure he understands. But his friend Raoul will. He will tell you. And you'll believe him, won't you?"

 

    Xris believed already. He couldn't help himself. He was having to work very hard at not believing.

 

    "Yes," he said. "I'll believe him." He snubbed out the twist. "Well, now I guess we go see a man about a dog."

 

 

 

CHAPTER 26

 

 

 

    Therefore those who skillfully move opponents make formations that opponents are sure to follow, give what opponents are sure to take.

 

    Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 

 

    "Unknown spaceplane, this is Canis Major Research I. You are in violation of intergalactic safety regulation number 2158-B3, which requires a five-kilometer exclusion zone between--"

 

    Harry cut in. "We're going to be in violation of a helluva lot more safety regulations unless you shut down your engines now and prepare for boarding."

 

    Momentary silence, then a human voice replaced the digitized one. "This is the captain speaking. You are in flagrant violation of intergalactic law. Our vessel has no weapons."

 

    "We do," Harry returned. "You can either shut down your engines now or we'll shut 'em down for you."

 

    More silence. Then, "Due to modulation frequency wave interference, your last message did not come through--"

 

    "Fire on them," ordered Xris from his place in the copilot's seat. "Don't hit anything vital. Just show them we mean business."

 

    "You hear that, Tycho?" Harry asked over the eonmL

 

    The alien was ensconced in the Schiavona's gun turret, located in a bubble above the cockpit.

 

    Tycho's answer was a well-aimed precision blast from the lascannon that took out a condenser coil on the ship's stem.

 

    "You've lost the air-conditioning," Harry said cheerfully. "The next shot, you lose the air."

 

    "It's this way, Canis Major," Xris addexi, "you have no weapons. We do. You have no shields. We do. You're holding a friend of ours hostage on board your vessel. We intend to get him back. Shut your engines down and prepare for boarders."

 

    The Canis Major had no response.

 

    "But they've done it," Harry reported, studying his instrumentation. "They've shut down their main engines. They're dead in space. Computer, how long before they can start up again?"

 

    "Main engine startup on a Verdi-class requires six hours to recycle."

 

    "They won't be going anywhere soon," Harry said in satisfaction.

 

    "We have shut down our engines," came the captain's grim-sounding voice. "We have no choice. We consider this a criminal action. We feel obliged to inform you that we have activated our automatic distress signal. All vessels in our vicinity are required by law to respond." Xris glanced at Rowan.

 

    "We know we don't have to worry about the Royal Navy," she said. "They're under orders not to respond to distress signals. But a civilian vessel could and probably would. At least, they'd come take a look." "How long?" Xris asked.

 

    She shrugged. "This is a busy secton A lot of traffic. But I didn't see anything in the vicinity when I was tracking this ship, so I'd guess we have at least an hour."

 

    "It shouldn't last that long. Not with a bunch of professors on board. Take us in for docking, Harry. Can everyone hear me?"

 

    Xris stood up, climbed the ladder to the living quarters. The cockpit of a long-range Schiavona fighter-bomber is located below the spaceplane's main deck area, separated by a metal railing, accessible down a four-ranged steel ladder. Designed for interplanetary flights--unlike its short-range counterpart, which is used mainly for ship-to-ship or ship-toplanet operations--the standard long-range Schiavona is self-sustaining. It provides adequate, if not particularly luxurious, living facilities for a two-man crew on a longer flight, short-term accommodations for a larger number of people on a brief haul.

 

    The Schiavona on this mn was extremely crowded. In addition to the extra people, they had to stow their gear on board. This included a small arsenal of weapons, Royal Naval uniforms (in case they were caught, they planned to bluff their way out), food, tools, and Quong's box of medical supplies. Xris had been forced into a slight altercation with the Little One. The cyborg caught the empath attempting to lug an overlarge suitcase on board.

 

    "What's this?" Xris had demanded.

 

    The Little One had opened the suitcase, proudly revealed its contents: seven silk scarves, a half-dozen frothy lacecovered blouses, ten pairs of high-heeled pumps in various shades, multicolored spandex unitards, and a flashy gold ensemble adorned with sequins and bangles.

 

    "No," Xris had said. "Absolutely not. Raoul will have to get along without his wardrobe."

 

    The Little One had gesticulated wildly, flinging his small hands in the air and jumping up and down.

 

    Xris had remained adamant. The suitcase was left behind.

 

    "You hear me, Tycho?" Xris said now over the comm to the gunner's turret.

 

    "Loud and clear, boss."

 

    Rowan, the Little One, Jamil, and Quong sat in small fold-down chairs bolted to the bulkheads. They gave Xris their full attention.

 

    "Okay, this is the plan. When we dock, they'll open the airlock--"

 

    "What if they don't?" Harry demanded from the cockpit. He liked to have every eventuality covered.

 

    "They will, or you'll shoot something else off. I'm leaving you inside the plane."

 

    Harry nodded complacently.

 

    "We'll take control of the bridge. Jamil and Tycho will remain on the bridge. The Little One and I will go look for Raoul. Doc, you'll come with us, in case he needs medical attention." Xris looked at the Little One. "Raoul's alive, right?"

 

    The Little One nodded vigorously.

 

    "And you can find him on board that ship? Even if they've hidden him away somewhere?"

 

    The Little One nodded again, clenched two fists and brought them together. "All right, then--"

 

    "What about me?" Rowan asked.

 

    "You stay on board with Harry. I want you to monitor-What the devil is wrong with him now?"

 

    The Little One had begun by wringing his hands and shaking his head. He ended by flinging himself onto Rowan, clutching at her and tugging at her uniform.

 

    "I believe he wants me to go with him," Rowan said.

 

    "Out of the question."

 

    "I don't mind, Xris."

 

    "Damn it, I do! Technically speaking, you're my prisoner--"

 

    "Technically speaking," Rowan interrupted, smiling, "I'm your friend."

 

    Xris ignored that. "--and I don't want you--"

 

    The Little One became frenzied. He pulled on Rowan's uniform with such violence that he ripped an epaulet from her shoulder.

 

    "He should not be exciting himself like this." Quong was on his feet, attempting to soothe his patient. "He wants me to go!" Rowan pleaded.

 

    "Then he can get over it." Xris was adamant. The computer came on. "Docking in ten, nine, eight--" "You better sit down and strap in!" Harry warned. "This is a forced docking maneuver. They're not helping us one damn bit."

 

    The Little One refused to be pried loose from Rowan. Clinging to her, he peered at Xris from under the brim of the fedora.

 

    "I promise I won't try to escape," Rowan said.

 

    "At this point, it might be better if she did," Jamil muttered under his breath to Quong.

 

    But Xris heard. "All right, then! Go on board," he snarled. "The whole fuckin' universe can go on board, for all I care."

 

    He slid down the ladder, back into the cockpit, sat in his chair and strapped himself in. Grimly silent, he stared out the viewscreen.

 

    The computer's mindless voice broke the uncomfortable stillness.

 

    "Five, four, three--"

 

    "Oh, shut up," Harry muttered, and killed the audio.

 

    The landing was a rough one.

 

    The hatch whirred. Xris pushed it open, pulled himself cautiously up and out. He took a good look around, but--as

 

    Harry had reported from sensor readings--the aifiock was pressurized and empty. Xris, perched on top of the spaceplane, looked down, motioned the others to join him.

 

    Jamil came next. He slid down the Schiavona's outside ladder to the deck of the Canis Major Research 1, aimed his beam rifle on the door to the aifiock. Tycho followed, carrying his special sniper rifle. The alien joined Jamil.

 

    There was a brief delay. Xris peered impatiently down into the hatch. The Little One was slowly climbing upward, tripping over his raincoat. "Hurry!" Xris ordered. He was a target-shoot up here. The Little One received a boost from behind from Quong, almost flew out of the hatch. Xris caught hold of the empath, steadied him, started him creeping across the hull over to the ladder. The doctor eased himself out next. Once on top of the Schiavona, he reached down to receive a beam rifle and his medical gear handed up to him by Rowan. She came last, moving easily and expertly. She carried a lasgun in a shoulder holster.

 

    Xris eyed the weapon.

 

    She caught his glance, flushed. "I can leave it--"

 

    He shook his head, motioned her to hurry.

 

    "We're out, Harry," he said into the comm. "Leave the hatch open and keep the engines running." "Right, boss."

 

    Xris climbed down, joined the others. He nodded to Jamil, who hit the controls. He and Tycho burst through the door, weapons raised, expecting resistance.

 

    All they encountered were two extremely angry and indignant academic types in white lab coats, who fired nothing more lethal than a barrage of protests.

 

    "What is the meaning of this? We are a research vessel! We have nothing on board--"

 

    "Hands in the air," Jamil ordered.

 

    "This is a piratical act. We have your spaceplane's number and--"

 

    "He said, hands in the air." Tycho emphasized the statement with a menacing motion of his sniper rifle.

 

    Xris took up a position where he could keep an eye on the corridor.

 

    "I protest--"

 

    The two, still talking, reluctantly raised their hands over their heads.

 

    Jamil grabbed one, Tycho the other. They shoved both professors facefirst into the bulkheads. Quong patted them down expertly for weapons, reported them both clean.

 

    One of the professors, a woman, turned her head. "I am Dr. Brisbane, leader of the research team. We have nothing on board that would be in the least valuable to you scum. We have activated a distress signal. Help will be arriving any moment now. I suggest--"

 

    She broke off, stared in amazement at the sight of the Little One, who came barreling through the door, tugging Rowan along behind. The empath would have dragged Rowan off down the corridor if Xris hadn't stopped them.

 

    "Take it easy," he said quietly, resting his good hand on the Little One's shoulder.

 

    The Little One apparently understood--either Xris's words or his thoughts--for the empath calmed down, though he kept casting longing glances at the corridor. Xris studied the professors in their immaculate coats. The female doctor was tall, stem-faced, gray-haired. The other--a male--was tubby and pink-faced. Neither looked the least bit sinister, only upset and frightened and---in the woman's case--mad enough to chew off the cyborg's steel hand. She started in again, yammering about pirates.

 

    Xris decided to continue the hard-line approach, see where it got him.

 

    "Shut up!" His metal-edged voice cut off all further protests. He fixed his attention on the female doctor. "Listen to me, sister, and no one will get hurt. We're not pirates. We have reason to believe that you are holding a friend of ours hostage on board this vessel. His name is Raoul. He's an Adonian. Release him, turn him over to us, and we'll fly away and leave you to your books."

 

    He expected evasions, denials, more protests. What he got instead were baffled looks, disbelief, and incomprehension. He might have been speaking Tycho's language, without benefit of the translator.

 

    "You're accusing us--us--of ... of kidnapping?" Dr. Brisbane was so angry she was spluttering.

 

    Her tubby cohort actually giggled, then blushed red at the doctor's baleful gaze.

 

    "Gentlemen--" the tubby one began meekly.

 

    "Don't dignify them with that term," Brisbane snapped.

 

    The tubby one blushed again. "We're a research vessel, studying the effects of vented gas plasma discharge from junk-drive engines on various species, flora and fauna. We've never kidnapped anyone. I believe you've made a terrible mistake."

 

    Xris was beginning to think so. If that was true, he was certainly on a roll. It was Rowan who'd dreamed all this up. Dog stars! If she ... If this was a trick...

 

    Xris clamped his teeth down on a twist.

 

    Nothing to do now but play it out.

 

    "Then I guess you won't mind us searching your ship," he said, watching them closely to see their reaction.

 

    And there was the break, the crack. Not nmch. If he hadn't been so damned keyed up and on edge, he might have missed it--Tubby's eyes slid sideways.

 

    Brisbane was good. She had scared but indignant down to an art form. Absolutely no reason for them to search her vessel, upset her staff. Risk contaminating the experiments, loss of months of valuable research ...

 

    Tubby, receiving his cue, now joined in. But that's just what his sideways glance had been. He was asking for his cue.

 

    Xris gave the team the go-ahead.

 

    Jamil grabbed Tubby by the collar, shoved a lasgun in his back. Tycho took charge of Brisbane.

 

    "Take us to the bridge," Jamil ordered. "We promise not to step on the flowers. And keep your hands where I can see them and your eyes straight ahead or you'll be fertilizing your 'flora and fauna.' March."

 

    The procession moved down the corridor: Jamil and Tycho and the prisoners in front; Quong, Rowan, and the Little One right behind; Xris bringing up the rear, watching their backs. They met no one on the way. Apparently everyone else on board the vessel had been warned to keep out of sight.

 

    They continued down the corridor leading from the airlock, until they came to an intersection. Their corridor went on ahead, another branched off to the right. Dr. Brisbane--her jaw clamped--indicated the right turn. At this, they nearly lost the Little One. He came to a dead stop, pointed frantically straight ahead.

 

    Brisbane eyed the Little One narrowly. When she caught Xris watching her, she shifted her gaze.

 

    "The bridge is that direction," she said coldly.

 

    Xris nodded, gave Jamil the sign to go ahead. Rowan said something to the Little One, who trailed along reluctantly, holding on to Rowan's hand.

 

    Apparently their progress through the ship was being monitored, because the door to the bridge was standing open. Captain and crew were waiting for them. No security guards; no one was even armed. So far, the Canis Major Research 1 was what it claimed to be--a lumbering, inoffensive research vessel, cruising studiously through space.

 

    Xris began again to have doubts. Jamil's rigid back and set jaw and the fact that Tycho's skin had not changed color to match his surroundings indicated that they were also dubious about their mission. Rowan wore her enigmatic expression, which Xris remembered from the old days. That expression meant either she thought he was way off target, but wouldn't jeopardize the operation by saying anything, or she was on to something. Quong was impassive; but then, he was always impassive. If it hadn't been for the Little One's excitement, Xris might have muttered an apology and slunk off.

 

    "Captain"--Xris stepped forward--"we're going to take control of the bridge. Instruct your people to stand aside and let my men do their jobs and no one will get hurt. We'll do what we came to do, then leave and let you carry on."

 

    The captain looked at Brisbane, who said bitterly, "We have no choice. We must do as they say. They have some insane notion that we have kidnapped one of their friends. They intend to search the ship."

 

    The team went to work, swift, efficient. If they had any doubts about Xris or their reason for being here, they did not let these doubts interfere with their jobs. At a command from the captain, the crew--three people--rose to their feet, moved away from their consoles. Tycho herded the crew, Dr. Brisbane, and her tubby companion over into a recessed bay area. Quong kept them covered. Xris stood by the door, keeping watch down the corridor. Jamil made the captain return to the pilot's chair, a gun to his head.

 

    A red light was flashing on the console--the distress signal. Jamil motioned to it. "Shut it off," he ordered. The captain shook his head. "I can't."

 

    Jamil examined the control. "My guess is that he's telling the truth. Once it's activated ..." he shrugged, "company."

 

    Rowan could probably kill it, but it was unlikely the Little One would turn her loose.

 

    "No help for it," Xris said. "Jamil, you keep everyone here. Tycho, take over for Quong. Doc, you're with me."

 

    "You are wasting your time," Brisbane said, her voice loud and strident. "The only people aboard this ship are the crew and my fellow scientists."

 

    But as she said this, her eyes shifted involuntarily to the Little One. The erapath stood near the door, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other.

 

    "If that's true, Doctor, you have nothing to worry about. If it isn't..." Xris motioned his group out, headed out himself.

 

    "Okay," he said to the Little One. "Lead on."

 

    Keeping hold of Rowan, the Little One took off down the corridor, kicking impatiently at the hem of the raincoat. Xris and Quong trudged after their small friend.

 

    "They're all hiding something," Rowan said, over her shoulder.

 

    "Oh, year? How do you know that?"

 

    "We were expecting to see a research shiiy--intellectual types in white coats, nonprofessional crew, that sort of thing."

 

    "Yes."

 

    "And that's what we're seeing."

 

    "I'm seeing exactly the same things I'd see if I were on a research vessel, which means that I'm not ..."

 

    "You know what I'm getting at," Rowan retorted.

 

    Xris did. It was the main reason he was marching down this corridor behind an empath in a raincoat who had gotten them all here by hugging a dog.

 

    They headed down the same corridor they'd used to reach the bridge from the airlock. But when they arrived at the intersection, the Little One turned right instead of left. He continued down another hallway, made a left-hand jog at another junction, then another left. He paused only at the intersections, and then he didn't appear confused as much as he appeared to be attempting to determine the fastest way to reach his goal.

 

    No one and nothing interfered until they reached a section of the vessel separated from the main part by a huge, heavy blast door labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

 

    Odd. Xris was familiar with the Verdi-class vessel and this door was not standard equipment. He got on the comm to Jamil.

 

    "Rescue-two, this is Rescue-one. Can you see us?"

 

    "Rescue-one, I've got you on the security cam."

 

    "What's on the other side of this blast door?"

 

    "An empty corridor. Doors leading off of it. Nothing special that I can tell; but then, the cams don't pick up the inside of the rooms, only the hallways."

 

    "Any change in radiation levels, Rescue-two? Air quality? Pressure?"

 

    A pause. Jamil was checking out instrument readings. "No, Rescue-one. None. Everything reads normal."

 

    "Okay," Xris said. The Little One was glowering at him impatiently from beneath the fedora. "Open it up, RescuetWO."

 

    The door clanked, began to revolve ponderously to one side. The Little One let go of Rowan's hand, jumped through as soon as the crack was large enough to contain his small body. He was halfway down the corridor before Xris, Rowan, and Quong managed to catch up.

 

    Xris stared curiously at the other doors as they passed, wondering why this particular area had been made off limits and who it was off limits to. "Authorized personnel" might mean the crew only, excluding the profs, or it might mean the profs, excluding the crew. The first would tend to indicate that this area had been sealed off because it had something important to do with the running of the ship--which seemed unlikely, since there were only doors and a corridor, no high-voltage electrical equipment or thrumming machinery. The other might mean that the crew was being kept in the dark about the experiments being carried on inside.

 

    Some of the doors were marked, but the marks were in a strange language, not the usual Standard Military. Rowan slowed her pace to stare at them. Xris nearly bumped into her.

 

    "Aren't those weird?" she said.

 

    Xris agreed, caught hold of Rowan's elbow, steered her on. It had not been unknown, when they were agents together, for Rowan to stop in the middle of a guns-drawn, badges-flashing raid to read a flier tacked on a wall.

 

    The Little One made a sudden turn to the right. He was running now, dashing along at such a rapid, eager pace that he tripped himself up completely and sprawled flat on the floor. He was up again before anyone could reach him, racing madly down the con'idor. He skidded to a halt in front of a door, pointing and jumping up and down.  "This is it? Raoul's in there?" Xris asked.

 

    The Little One nodded so violently that the hat slid over his eyes.

 

    Xris was back on the comm. "Rescue-two? Can you see us now?"

 

    "I have you, Rescue-one. You're on Deck eight, level B-two. And you're in the clear. That corridor's empty in all directions."

 

    "Everyone behaving themselves up there?"

 

    "Two indignant outbursts, one request for a glass of water---denied--and one promise to see us all behind a force field, but that's been about it so far. There's a blip on the screen; someone coming to check on the distress signal. Looks like a freighter, moving pretty slowly, but it is moving, so don't dawdle."

 

    "Right. You reading anything inside this room?"

 

    "Nothing here. But like I said, I can't see."

 

    Xris glanced again at the Little One. The fedora bobbed.

 

    "Rescue-two, we're going in."

 

    Xris touched the controls. The door stayed shut.

 

    "Or maybe not. Rescue-two ..."

 

    "I'm on it, Rescue-one. Just a sec. Okay. Ready when you are."

 

    Xris motioned to Quong. Lasgun in hand, the Doc took one side of the door while Xris covered the other. Rowan had drawn her lasgun. With her other hand, she grasped the Little One firmly, dragged him behind her, out of the line of fire.

 

    "Ready."

 

    The door slid open. Quong dove low, lasgun ready. Xris dodged in after him.

 

    They were inside what appeared to be a sick bay. Three hospital beds, separated by hanging curtains, were lined up side by side. Various monitors, computers, and other equipment, including a deactivated medicbot, cluttered the room.

 

    An extremely startled-looking medic, seated in a swivel chair in front of a lit screen, spun around, said, "What the--" and jumped to his feet.

 

    "Hold it," Quong told him, aiming the lasgun at the man's chest. "Right there. Don't move. Hands up."

 

    The medic, looking bewildered, did what he was told.

 

    Xris glanced swiftly around the room, saw no one else.

 

    No one else living, that is.

 

    A still form, covered with a white sheet, lay on one of the beds. A hand was all that was visible, hanging limp and lifeless off the bed. The delicate fingers were decorated with gaudy tings. The nails were long, manicured, and painted mauve.

 

    "Damn. Damn it to hell," Xris said softly.

 

    He turned, with some idea of telling Rowan to get the Little One out of there, but he was too late. The empath broke away from her, ran past Xris, heading straight for the shrouded figure.

 

    "Doc!" Xris called warningly. "I've got the medic covered. You go take care of ..." He left the sentence unfinished. There was probably very little left to care for ... except the Little One. And what they'd do with him, Xris couldn't imagine.

 

    The Little One was climbing up onto the bed.

 

    Quong lowered his weapon. With soothing words, he endeavored to stop the empath. But the doctor was too late. The Little One plucked the sheet from the body.

 

    Raoul lay beneath it. The Adonian was dressed in a hospital gown. ("He must be dead!" Xris muttered to himself.) The long black hair was uncombed, disheveled. Wide, unseeing eyes stared at the ceiling.

 

    The Little One grabbed hold of Raoul's hospital gown with both small hands and tugged.

 

    "My friend, please!" Quong attempted to remonstrate. "He is dead. There is nothing--"

 

    "How did this happen?" Xris demanded.

 

    The medic started to babble. "We found him stowed away on board our ship. He was in a drugged stupor. We did what we could, but--"

 

    "I'll bet." Xris sneered. "I also don't believe a word. Rowan, go help the Doc. Rowan ..."

 

    She wasn't looking at him or listening to him. She was stating at the medic's computer. Rowan could have no more walked by a computer without stopping to look than poor Raoul could have walked past a cosmetics counter. She sat down in front of it.

 

    "Stay away from that!" the medic yelled.

 

    Rowan bent nearer, reading the screen.

 

    "My God ..."

 

    She placed her lasgun on the console. Her fingers went to the keyboard.

 

    The medic was livid.

 

    The Little One shook Raoul's body. Quong attempted to pacify the distraught empath.

 

    Xris turned back to his prisoner. "You've got five seconds to tell me the truth about what happened to my friend there before I start shooting holes in various parts of you--parts that won't interfere with your mouth."

 

    "Xris ..." Rowan said, excited. "You won't believe this! Come look--"

 

    "Rescue-one!" Jamil was on the comm. "You've got trouble. I don't know where the hell they came from, but a whole goddamn regiment is closing in on you!"

 

    "Seal off Deck Eight, all levels!" Xris shouted.

 

    He made a spring for the door control and, at that moment, the medic made a spring for Rowan.

 

    Xris had time to shout a warning to her, but that was all he could do. His main concern had to be for the door. Reaching it, he caught a glimpse of armed men racing down the corridor. Laser fire burst over his head.

 

    Xris slammed his hand on the controls, shut the door. He spun around.

 

    The medic had Rowan in an expert stranglehold. He held her own lasgun to her head.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 27

 

 

 

    If your advance is going well, you're walking into an ambush.

 

    Murphy's Military Law

 

 

    Xris could hear banging on the door, but that didn't last long. He could trust Jamil to keep the door controls locked up, make sure the door stayed shut--at least until someone came back with a plasma cutting torch.

 

    "Just take it easy." Xris raised his hands in the air. "We don't intend to hurt anyone. We just want to find out what happened to our friend there. You said you found him in--"

 

    "Shut up!" the medic snarled.

 

    The man was rattled; he was in charge of the situation, but he had no idea what to do with it. He pressed the gun against Rowan's temple, glanced nervously around as if looking for help. His gaze went involuntarily upward.

 

    Guessing that he wasn't searching for spiritual guidance, Xris followed the medic's gaze and saw the security cam. He cursed himself for not having seen it sooner. Someone had been watching, and not from the bridge, apparently, since Jamil couldn't see them. Which meant there was some sort of centralized control on board the vessel that had nothing to do with the crew.

 

    What the hell was going on?

 

    Rowan knew--he could tell it from the excited, eager expression on her face. She was within a finger's twitch of having a hole burned through her skull and she was only interested in relating what she'd found out.

 

    I know what they're after/ She was telling him silently.

 

    Her dark eyes gleamed. She cast a look at the computer and then her gaze became pleading. But I need more time/

 

    He could hear her as clearly as if she'd spoken out loud. And he felt the same familiar rash of frustration and irritation that he'd had in the old days, working together. Not only did Rowan expect him to get her out of this--to get them all out of this--but she wanted him to buy her time on the computer as well! And all with a gun to her head!

 

    The medic had decided on a course of action. He began dragging Rowan backward toward the bed, where he could get a clear view of Quong and the Little One.

 

    "You there. You two. Move out in front of me where I can see you." The medic tightened his choking grip on Rowan, motioned with the lasgun.

 

    Rowan had gone a shade paler; she was gasping for breath. Her eyes were enormous in her white face and theft gaze never left Xris. She was slowly suffocating.

 

    Quong lifted the Little One from the bed. The empath went limp in the doctor's grasp. Quong set the Little One gently on the floor, stood protectively near him.

 

    "Move this way. Over by the tin man," the medic ordered, waving the lasgun. "You. Cyborg." He turned to Xris. "Shut your battery down."

 

    "Rescue-one." Jamil was back on the comm. "I've sealed off the corridors, but they're using manual overrides to open the blast doors. It'll take them a while, but not long. You've got five in your immediate vicinity. There were seven, but two of them left, probably to get a cutting torch. What's it like at your end?"

 

    "Hostage situation. I can't talk," Xris returned.

 

    "Shut up!" the medic yelled. "And shut down. You've got five seconds before I start shooting body parts. Hers!"

 

    Panic began to rise, to bubble up inside Xris, creep out of his pores in a cold sweat. His worst nightmare, his only nightmare, his constant, continuous nightmare was shutting down. With his battery turned off, he was helpless, the cybernetic parts of himself died, froze. Weighted down with the heavy hunks of wire and steel, he couldn't move. He could barely keep himself alive--if you wanted to call it alive. The artificial heart would continue to pump, but the blood would flow to paralyzed, unfeeling limbs.

 

    "Five ... four ..." The medic was counting.

 

    And behind the medic, the corpse of Raoul was slowly sitting up.

 

    For a stunned moment, Xris wondered if his battery pack had shut down. His heart lurched and then reality hit him. Raoul was not dead. He'd never been dead! He'd been lying in the bed--God and the Loti only knew why--with the sheet pulled over his head!

 

    All of this went through Xris's mind in a flash, just as he realized he'd been staring too fixedly in Raoul's direction. The medic had noticed his gaze, started to look around.

 

    Raoul was on his hands and knees, crawling to the end of the bed. He held an injector in his hand.

 

    "There's obviously been a mistake," Xris said loudly, and took a step forward. "Let me talk to Dr. Brisbane."

 

    "Dr. Brisbane gave us permission to come down here," Quong added. He, too, had seen Raoul. The doctor took a step forward.

 

    Alarmed, feeling threatened, the medic shifted the lasgun from Rowan, aimed at Xris, and fired.

 

    Raoul leaped on the man from behind, plunged the injector into the medic's back.

 

    The burst caught Xris in the left arm, spun him around, knocked him to the floor. His electrical system went berserk; three fingers on his weapons hand shorted out. Tiny jolts of electricity slivered through his body and then the automatic relays kicked in and closed down the damaged circuits, rerouted the power.

 

    Xris rolled over, fighting to catch his breath, waiting for his heartbeat to stabilize. There was one thing he could still do. He raised his lasgun, which he carried always in his good hand---mainly because of situations like this. He didn't aim at the medic. who was writhing on the floor, in a tangle with Rowan. Taking careful aim, Xris shot out the security cam.

 

    Quong was bending over the medic, who had gone suddenly limp.

 

    "Dead," the doctor reported.

 

    Quong turned to Rowan.

 

    She was on her feet, waved the doctor away. "I'm all right. Go see about Xris."

 

    "I'm okay, Doc." Xris picked himself up. He was out of breath and dizzy, but that would pass. "Some circuits fried. Nothing major." He touched the comm. "Rescue-two, this is Rescue-one. All secure down here. What's going on outside our door?"

 

    He didn't really need to ask. He could hear the hissing of the plasma cutting torch, see a charred spot start to form around the door controls.

 

    "Seven men on Deck Eight, your level," Jamil reported. "They've got a torch and they're cutting their way through the door. Someone tried to shut down my view, but I was able to block the attempt. Rescue-three is on his way under my guidance. He's on Deck Six, but he's going to run into a few delays. They're still playing with the manual overrides. I'll keep you posted."

 

    "Are they attacking the spaceplane?"

 

    "Harry reports all clear. They're only interested in you, my friend. Out."

 

    Xris tuned in Tycho, picked up the sound of laser blasts. "Rescue-three, can you hear me?"

 

    "Barely!" Tycho shouted. There was a pause, then the whine of the iridium sniper rifle. A blast. "Three down! One to go! I tell you something, boss"--the alien's tone was grim--"these guys sure as hell aren't college professors!"

 

    No, they sure as hell weren't.

 

    Quong was beside Xris, inspecting the damage.

 

    "I'm okay, Doc. Nothing you can do about this now. You go cover the door. Tycho's coming down to get us out, but he may be delayed. He's facing resistance."

 

    Quong, who could hear for himself in his own comm, nodded. Rowan could hear, too, but she was back at the computer, working feverishly. Xris limped over, stood behind her.

 

    "What have you got?"

 

    "I'm not sure," she murmured, her gaze on the screen, her brow furrowed. "I'm establishing a link between our plane's computer and this one. Hopefully, I can do it without them finding out--at least not right away." She looked up at him. "I need time, Xris."

 

    "We're not going anywhere real soon," he said wryly. "How long?"

 

    "Ten minutes?"

 

    "Five," he modified, and hoped he meant it. She grimaced, shook her head, and went back to work. X_ds turned to Raoul. The Little One had his arms around his friend's legs, hugging him. Raoul was patting the empath on the shoulder.

 

    "I don't suppose it would do any good to ask you what's going on?"

 

    Raoul's eyes were glazed, unfocused. "I am afraid not, Xris Cyborg. They did terrible things to me. They were going to kill me. That deadly drug"--the eyes sharpened, their gaze rested on the injector lying near the body--"was meant for me."

 

    "You don't know who these people are?"

 

    Raoul shook his head, the eyes once more vacant, vacuous. "I have no idea. They did terrible things. They made me wear this .... "His hands plucked at the hospital gown.

 

    Xris was struck with sudden inspiration. "That's why you were lying under the sheet!"

 

    "Of course." Raoul lifted his plucked eyebrows, astonished that Xris hadn't arrived at this conclusion earlier. "You don't imagine I could let anyone see me like this." His hands fluttered in disgust. "In this ... thing! And with no makeup!"

 

    The charred arc was halfway around the door controls. Rowan, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip, was concentrating on her work. It would take a bomb blast to get her to leave now.

 

    "Rescue-one, this is Rescue-three. I'm on Deck Seven, moving your way." That was Tycho, and the next moment Jamil was on.

 

    "Rescue-one, this is Rescue-two. They've broken through the door controls on Deck Three and there's nothing more I can do to stop them. You're going to have about twenty armed soldiers on you."

 

    "Five more minutes," Rowan begged.

 

    Raoul was plucking at Xris's sleeve. "I have to go back to my room, change my clothes. It's just down the hall--"

 

    Xris caught himself about to laugh. He took a twist, thrust it in his mouth, bit down on it.

 

    "Rescue-three, let me know when you're in position on Deck Eight."

 

    "Coming up on you now, Rescue-one," Tycho responded. "Targets in sight."

 

    "Right. Quong, grenade. Everyone--take cover!"

 

    Quong took a thurmaplasma grenade from his belt, placed it in front of the door, set the timer, and ran like hell. He dove behind a steel cabinet. Raoul quit complaining about his wearing apparel, grabbed the Little One. The two of them hit the floor and scuttled underneath the bed.

 

    Xris was on his way to finding his own cover when he noriced that Rowan hadn't moved. She was still sitting at the damn computer.

 

    He jumped for her, took her down, chair and all, just as the door blew.

 

    The blast knocked out the lower section of the door, plus anyone standing near it. Xfis, peering through the smoke and flame, could see bodies on the deck. But there must have been someone up and moving around because the next moment he heard the whine of Tycho's gun.

 

    "Move out, Rescue-one," Tycho called over the comm. "I've got you covered."

 

    Quong, at a sign from Xris, made his advance. Cautiously, weapon raised, he looked out the door.

 

    Rowan was on her knees, back at the computer.

 

    "We're in," she reported triumphantly. She touched a key. The screen cleared, then filled with text. "And, hopefully, they won't find out for a while."

 

    Scrambling to her feet, she wiped away a trickle of blood from a cut on her scalp. "We've got to hurry," she said to Xris impatiently. "I want to get back to the plane and log on."

 

    Xris grunted, hauled Raoul and the Little One out from under the bed.

 

    "My clothes are in my room, which is down the hall to your right, about six or seven doors--" Raoul began.

 

    "Never mind your clothes. Get moving."

 

    Raoul came to a dead stop, regarded Xris with a cold stare. "If you think that I am going out in public, wearing this ..." Words failed him.

 

    "Dam it!" said Xris through teeth clenched over the twist in his mouth. He gave Raoul a shove that sent him staggering. "There are people out there shooting at us! Now get going!"

 

    Raoul recovered himself, drew himself up with dignity. "May I remind you, Xris Cyborg, that people are generally always shooting at us. That is no excuse for not appearing at our best."

 

    "Hurry, Xris!" Rowan was shouting at him from the door. Quong had stepped outside, was motioning for them to come.

 

    Xris was on the comm to Jamil. "Rescue-two, what's our status?"

 

    "You're safe where you are for the moment, Rescue-one, but you're going to run into a major roadblock in front of the spaceplane. Sorry, Rescue-one. Nothing I could do. They were laying for us."

 

    Laying for us. An ambush. A bunch of professors. Why? What the devil was going on?  "How many?"

 

    "Thirty, thirty-five. Forty. Armed to the teeth."

 

    Xris shut his eyes, tried to think. He hadn't switched off the comm and in the background he could hear the distress signal. And he remembered that, too---a freighter, coming to investigate. Just one more damn problem. A small problem, compared to the fact that there were forty or so armed and well-trained soldiers standing between his team and their only way off this mother of a ship. He could either go out and meet them and try to blast his way through or wait here until they came to get him, and try to blast his way out. Lousy odds, either way. He was going to lose some people, some damn good people. It-

 

    The distress signal ...

 

    Only way off...

 

    The plan was there, bursting inside his head with dazzling clarity. Elation, excitement tingled through him like a powerful narcotic. He lived for moments like this.

 

    The problem was how to explain it. It was unlikely that their transmissions were being monitored, but Xris wasn't putting anything past this bunch.

 

    He was on the corem to Jamil. "Rescue-two, leave your post. At my signal, we're getting out of here. But before you go, turn out the lights and lock up the house. Then follow the signs. You got that, Rescue-two?"

 

    A pause. In the background, the distress signal. Then Jamil said quietly, "I've got it, Rescue-one. Waiting your signal."

 

    Xris shut down the transmission, glowered at Raoul. "You coming with us or not?"

 

    Raoul fluttered his eyelids demurely. He always knew when Xris'd had enough. "I'm coming."

 

    The Adonian stepped daintily over the bits of burning wreckage, making futile attempts to pull his gown shut in back. At length, shrugging, he gave up. Pausing, he took a look at his reflection in the carbon-streaked metal wall.

 

    "Oh, well." Raoul shrugged. "Fortunately, I have a nice tight ass."

 

    "You better move your nice tight ass or it's going to get shot off," Xris said grimly. Grabbing hold of the Little One, the cyborg lifted the empath over the ruins and the bodies, plunked him down on the floor near Quong. "Keep an eye on these two. And Rowan," he told the Doc.  Quong nodded.

 

    Tycho stood at the end of a corridor littered with bodies. Seven humans. All of them, Xris noted, were wearing black uniforms decorated with silver insignia. He didn't recognize either the uniforms or the insignia, but that didn't count for much. Every planet, country, city, city-state, corporation, and radical fringe group had its own paramilitary force. These guys just happened to be better than most. They'd fooled him completely.

 

    Xris motioned for Tycho to join them.

 

    "All clear down here," Tycho reported.

 

    "Yeah," said Xris, spitting out the twist. "That's because there's a reception committee waiting for us at the spaceplane."

 

    "How many?" asked Tycho.

 

    "Too damn many. We're clearing out."

 

    Tycho's face darkened. "Jamil's trapped on the bridge--"

 

    "He's abandoning ship. We all are."

 

    They stared at him.

 

    Xris switched on the comm to Jamil. "Rescue-two-now!" Xris hoped Jamil had truly understood his message. Turn out the lights and lock up the house. Then follow the signs. If not ...

 

    A second's worry-packed delay, and then the lights went out. The air went off. Emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie bluish glow over everything. A computerized voice echoed through the corridor.

 

    "Warning! Life support has shut down. Follow the white lights and proceed to the emergency exits. Stay calm. Warning! Life support has shut down. Follow the white lights and proceed to the emergency exits. Stay calm. Warning!..."

 

    Small white lights, embedded in the deck, began to flash in a distinct pattern, leading in one direction.

 

    Quong nodded his head; he was beginning to understand. Rowan had it; she was smiling in approval. Tycho was already changing skin color to blend into the semidarkness. Raoul looked delighted. He was probably enjoying the light show.

 

    "Move out," Xris ordered.

 

    Following the guide lights, they headed down the corridor at a ran. Tycho took the lead; his rifle scope had infrared sights. Quong shepherded Rowan, Raoul, and the Little One. Xris brought up the rear. They met no one. All resistance, apparently, was gathered around their spaceplane.

 

    "Rescue-five." Xris alerted Harry. "Take off. We can't reach you."

 

    "Rescue-one, I didn't catch that. Would you repeat?"

 

    Xris sighed, shook his head. "Rescue-five, dammit, take off! We're going out in the escape pods."

 

    "But Xris! Spaceplanes can't recover escape pods! I--"

 

    "Orders, Rescue-five," Xris snapped.

 

    "Sure, Xris. I mean, Rescue-one."

 

    It was all very easy after that. So easy, in fact, that once they reached the pods, Raoul announced that he had time to go back after his clothes. Xris, not even bothering to comment, shoved the Adonian into the escape pod.

 

    The pods aboard a Verdi-class vessel are built to hold eight people--not comfortably, but then escape pods weren't meant to be used for extended periods of time. Since Verdiclass ships had no hyperspace capabilities and were not armed, they weren't likely to venture into the wilds of space. Traveling near the busy trade routes, a ship in trouble was likely to have help within hours. And, as Xxis knew, help was already on its way.

 

    When everyone was crammed inside the pod, perched on the hard benches, their heads and backs pressed against the curved walls (the tall Tycho was bent double), Xris sealed the pod, pressed the emergency release. The pod dropped off. Small rocket thrusters fired, taking them a safe distance from the ship before shutting down.

 

    Bursts of fire indicated the launching of a second pod, not far from theirs--that would be Jamil. In the distance, Xris could see the Schiavona spaceplane hovering near the pods like a distraught mother hen. They had escaped neatly, easily. He wondered how long it would take the soldiers lying in ambush for the team to figure out they weren't coming. All they had to do now was sit back and wait for that freighter. And think up a plausible story.

 

    "Harry," said Rowan into the comm, almost as soon as the pod had ejected, "put me through to the computer."

 

    She gave detailed instructions to the computer on how to break into its counterpart aboard the Canis Major, how to sneak around without being noticed, what files to find, and how to begin downloading them. Then she sat and fidgeted.

 

    "I suppose it has occurred to you, Xris, that we may be rescued, then immediately tossed into the brig." Tycho was often grumbling and irritable after a raid. "What's to keep the professors"--he jerked his long thumb toward the vessel--"from claiming that we seized their ship, terrorized them, then fled when things got too hot?"

 

    "They won't," said Xris, chewing lazily on a twist. He began investigating the damage to his arm. "In fact, it's my guess they won't even stick around."

 

    "But Harry said they couldn't start their engines for another six... I'll be damned." Quong was keeping watch out the porthole. "You were right. There they go. Full main thrusters."

 

    "Stop them, Xris," said Rowan suddenly. In her urgency, she reached across, rested her hand on his good one. "Tell Harry to shoot them down. Now!"

 

    "Are you crazy?" Xris stared at her. "Fire on an unarmed ship--some helpless research vessel? In full view of that freighter? Okay, the bastards weren't so helpless, but that freighter captain doesn't know that. We'd not only be tossed in the brig, we'd be thrown into the disrupter!"

 

    "Not after they saw the evidence I'm downloading. Do it, Xris!" She was in earnest. Her grip on him tightened.

 

    "Too late," Quong said coolly. "By the Holy Master, they had hyperspace, as well! They're gone!"

 

    Xris pushed his way forward, peered out the porthole. No sign of the Canis Major. The ship had jumped into one of the nearby Lanes. He sat back down. Witat the devil was going on?

 

    "Someone went to a lot of expense to modify that ship," Tycho observed. "Imagine, adding backup linear drive and hyperspace to a Verdi-class!"

 

    "Of course they would," Rowan said irritably. "They would have to, with what they're planning."

 

    "What are they planning? What have you got on them?" Xris demanded.

 

    She looked over at him.

 

    "Less than sixty hours from now, they're plotting to assassinate the king."

 

 

 

CHAPTER 28

 

 

 

    Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall ....

 

    John Greenleaf Whittier, A Song of Harvest

 

 

    "And that," said Raoul, spreading his hands dramatically, "is my story."

 

    He was obviously enjoying himself, enjoying his audience, enjoying being the center of attention. So much so that Xris, sucking on a twist, regarded him with suspicion.

 

    Quong rolled up the Adonian's sleeves, made a brief examination of his arm. "He's had blood drawn. You can see the discoloration on the skin."

 

    "It's all in the computer files, )(ils," Rowan added. "Well, not all of it. We were only able to download a small segment before they made the jump. There are a lot of holes. But it adds up."

 

    "Maybe. But to what?"

 

    "To regicide," Rowan said. "Like I told you."

 

    Xris shook his head.

 

    Within an hour of their escape from Canis Major Research I, the team had been picked up by the freighter. The captain listened to their story--how they'd heard the distress call, stopped to help what they thought was a disabled vessel, boarded the ship, were then set upon by thugs, and barely escaped with their lives.

 

    The captain had been dubious: not surprising, considering Tycho standing there holding a specialized iridium sniper rifle; Raoul, blushing in shame, in his hospital gown; Xris with half his left arm sizzling and popping; and Rowan bleeding from a scalp wound. To say nothing of the Little One.

 

    There was the possibility, of course, that the captain watched the nightly news, would recognize them. But Xris wasn't overly concerned about that. Even if the captain had seen the news, freighter captains were notorious for minding their own business. They had their own problems, including delivery dates to meet.

 

    The vessel that had sent the distress signal had disappeared; the crew wasn't around to speak for themselves. The captain asked a few questions--just enough to make his report look good then was only too happy to transfer Xris and his team back to their spaceplane and be rid of them.

 

    Once on board the Schiavona, Xris attempted to put together the pieces of what was turning out to be an extremely bizarre puzzle. Just what did the kidnapping of a fashionconscious Adonian Loti have to do with the assassination of a king?

 

    "You said Dr. Brisbane asked you questions." Rowan pursued Raoul's debriefing. "What about?"

 

    Raoul shrugged. "My late former employer, Snaga Ohme. The time I spent with my late former employer. I must say that it brought back very painful memories."

 

    The Adonian was lucid--or at least as lucid as Raoul could ever be, considering that no one was actually certain where he ended and his drug-induced euphoria began. Quong had given Raoul, now dressed in a flight suit, a mild sedative--to help him get over the shock of the hospital gown, which seemed to bother him more than any of the other torments he had suffered. With the exception of his true concern for the Little One.

 

    Raoul's gaze strayed often to his friend, as if reassuring himself the erapath was safe, and he occasionally patted the Little One on whatever pan of the small being was handy. The Little One huddled possessively near Raoul, the one visible eye gleaming in triumph.

 

    There was still the matter of Rowan. Here was Xris's opportunity to ask Raoul and the Little One about Rowan's veracity. He'd been looking forward to doing just that, but now that the moment had come, he put it off. This other matter was more important, he told himself. Or maybe it was because he already knew the answer.

 

    "What specific questions did Dr. Brisbane ask you about Snaga Ohme?" Rowan persisted patiently. Raoul fluttered his hands. "It was all so ... dreadful and confused. That hideous gown. I was not my accustomed sell if you 'know what I mean." He glanced at them from the corners of his eyes.

 

    "We get the idea," Xris said wryly.

 

    Raoul sighed, attempted to concentrate. "I believe that the dreadful female kept asking me if Snaga Ohme had ever given me any sort of injections. If he had used me for any sort of tests or experiments."

 

    "And did he?" Rowan sat forward, interested.

 

    "No." Raoul looked bewildered. "Why would he? My late employer, Snaga Ohme, was a purveyor of weaponry. What had I to do with such onerous devices as bombs and tanks?"

 

    "What indeed ...."Rowan murmured. "You told Dr. Brisbane this?" "Yes." "And ..."

 

    "She did not appear to believe me. It was at that point that she announced that she was going to terminate me." Raoul shuddered delicately.

 

    "But she didn't," Xris said.

 

    "I don't believe so." Raoul was forced to consider the matter.

 

    "Did she give you any reason why?"

 

    "The only thing she gave me was an extremely powerful sedative. At which point," Raoul added gravely, "I began to feel much better."

 

    "I'll bet you did," Xris muttered. "You don't know why she kept you alive?"

 

    "I didn't say that," Raoul returned with dignity. "You asked if she gave me a reason. No. She did not. But I heard her talking to the ugly man. The ugly man said--and I quote--'Some of the micromachines in his body have not yet exploded. He will be an excellent test subject for the device.' Unquote."

 

    Rowan was nodding her head, looking well satisfied. She was the only one who had read the stolen computer files. This must be making some sort of sense to her. It made none to Xris.

 

    "Come off it, Loti." Harry chortled. "The only people who have micromachines in their bloodstream are Blood Royal. You don't expect us to believe you're Blood Royal, do you?"

 

    "Do you suppose I could be?" Raoul was blissful. "A cousin to His Majesty!"

 

    "I think it highly unlikely," Xris responded.

 

    Raoul gave the matter thought, shrugged. "You're probably right. Mummy and Daddy were both courtesans and it is a well known fact that the Blood Royal did not generally go in for that line of work. On the other hand--"

 

    "Don't expect an invitation to the Starfire family reunion," Xris interrupted. "So far as we know, there's only one person left alive in the galaxy who is Blood Royal, and that's the king." He was going to add, Look, Raoul, level with us. Why did they really snatch you ? But before he could get the words out, Quong interrupted.

 

    "This is incredible." Quong was studying the computer printouts. "They did find micromachines in Raoul's bloodstream!"

 

    Jamil snorted in disgust. "You're not telling us the poisoner over there is in line for the throne?"

 

    "No. No. The Adonian is not Blood Royal. He could not be; Adonians were not considered a suitable race for genetic altering, which was how the Blood Royal became Blood Royal, how they were able to take the micromachines into their bodies and use them. Which brings up the question: How did the micromachines get into the Adonian's bloodstream? And what do his captors mean by 'exploded'?"

 

    "That's why they kept asking him about injections," Rowan said, excited. "Snaga Ohme must have injected the micromachines into Raoul's blood."

 

    "But why? And where would Ohme get them?" Quong wondered.

 

    The Little One tugged on Raoul's sleeve, demanding his attention.

 

    Raoul listened to that silent voice, then translated. "The Little One recalls that there was a bloodsword in the possession of our late former employer. If you remember, Snaga Ohme was not only a purveyor of weapons but a collector as well."

 

    "That's it, then!" Quong announced. "Ohme could have removed some of the fluid containing the micromachines from the sword and injected it into Raoul."

 

    Xris was thoughtful. "But why? As far as I know, the only Blood Royal Snaga Ohme ever had long-term dealings with was Warlord Derek Sagan. There was no love lost between those two. In fact, the Warlord once hired me to do a spy job on the weapons dealer. Derek Sagan had given Ohme the plans for the space-rotation bomb and the Warlord wanted to make damn sure Ohme wasn't trying to double-cross him. Of course, Sagan didn't tell me all that. No one knew about the bomb then. But Ohme appeared to be dealing fairly with the Warlord at that time."

 

    "Because Ohme was plotting to murder Derek Sagan!" Rowan said. She pointed to the computer printout. "That's in this file. Ohme planned to murder Sagan by using some sort of weapon that would only kill Blood Royal. React with the micromachines in their bodies."

 

    "Is that possible, Doc?" Xris asked.

 

    "Certainly," Quong replied. "What was it Raoul said? 'Explode.' There are millions of micromachines in the bloodstream of the Blood Royal. If Ohme had found a way to cause them all to explode ..."

 

    He regarded Raoul with interest. "Ohme must have injected you with those micromachines! Otherwise how could these people have found them in your bloodstream? You're positive Snaga Ohme never gave you any type of injections?"

 

    "Positive." said Raoul.

 

    Quong frowned, perplexed.

 

    Xris shook his head. "Look, this theory is all very interesfing, Doc, but it is just a theory and--"

 

    "Unless you count the collagen treatments," Raoul added offhandedly.

 

    "What collagen treatments?" Quong and Rowan both spoke simultaneously.

 

    "I took them to erase wrinkles. I was developing a few around my eyes. Very few, and they're not noticeable now, due to this new cream I'm using. It is an extract of the--"

 

     Quong was triumphant. "Ohme did give him injections! He claimed they were collagen treatments for wrinkles!"

 

    "What else did he do?" Rowan demanded.

 

    "Nothing"--Raoul looked slightly dazed--"that I can remember."

 

    "Damn it--" Xris was losing patience.

 

    Rowan reached out, laid a hand on his arm, his good ann. Her touch was cool, oddly soothing.

 

    "Perhaps Ohme had you test out a new machine at the same time," she suggested to Raoul.

 

    "Why, yes. Now that you mention it, my late employer Snaga Ohme had just recently purchased a new tanning bed. He offered to let me try it out. He said it would assist the collagen treatments to eradicate the wrinkles."

 

    Quong and Rowan exchanged knowing glances, nodded.

 

    "Did the wrinkles go away?" the doctor asked.

 

    "No." Raoul was aggrieved. "Now that I think of it, they did not. And not only did the wrinkles not go away, I didn't get a tan and I developed the most terrible skin condition. Huge purplish splotches--like these bruises, only worse-broke out on my face and arms. No amount of makeup would hide them. I was unfit to be seen in public. I took to my bed for a week."

 

    "That's it," stated Quong, looking around at the team. "The collagen treatments were, in reality, micromachines being injected into Raoul's bloodstream. Then Ohme put the Loti in this 'tanning bed' that was, in reality, a device designed to blow up the micromachines. If Raoul had been injected with a significant number of micromachines, he'd be dead. All of them would have burst at once, like bubbles in champagne, causing massive hemorrhaging. Death would be rapid and extremely painful. As it was, the small number of micromachines that did explode caused only minor damage--the bruising on the arms and the face."

 

    "Xris," said Rowan excitedly, clutching his hand, "do you realize what this means?"

 

    He looked at her. She flushed, removed her hand from his arm.

 

    "I see where you're headed. But you two can't be serious! This is ... ludicrous!"

 

    "Look at how it fits," Rowan argued. "Snaga Ohme invented this machine in order to kill Derek Sagan. But Fate intervenes. Snaga Ohme dies before he has a chance to use the machine. Then Derek Sagan dies. All the Blood Royal are dead."

 

    "Except one," Quong added.

 

    "One," Rowan repeated. "And while Ohme may be dead, his machine could be very much alive." "Which means--" Quong began.

 

    "I know!" Raoul cried, ecstatic at having figured it all out. "I know! Bubbles in the blood!" He was pleasurably horrified. "They're going to carbonate the king!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER 29

 

 

 

    "Holmes!" I cried. "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at! We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime."

 

    Sir Arthur Corian Doyle, The Speckled Band

 

 

    "And, according to the files, they're going to go through with the assassination in sixty hours. Less than that now, of course. That has to be what this means." Rowan exhibited the printout, read it aloud.

 

    "'Synchronize chronometers to Zulu Time--now. Mission go/nogo will be transmitted in sixty-six hours. Mission completion, barring nogo, will occur by eighty-one hours. You have your orders.'"

 

    Raoul nodded his head. "I heard them say that."

 

    Xris regarded him skeptically.

 

    "I did," Raoul protested. "I remember quite clearly. That dreadful female was, after all, coming at me with an injector full of poison at the time. Such an occurrence does tend to stimulate the cerebral cortex. The message about Zulus and nogos--whatever they are--came over the loudspeaker. Then the ugly man came in and said that God was with them and that dreadful woman asked him why and he said because ... because ..."

 

    Raoul's lashes fluttered.

 

    Xris, exasperated, sucked in a breath, but Raoul waved his hand.

 

    "No, no. Just a moment. It's coming back to me. I have it! No one could stop them, because the Royal Navy was effectively paralyzed!"

 

    Xris looked swiftly at Rowan. She stared fixedly at him.

 

    "My God," she murmured.

 

    "You can say that again! Son of a bitch!" Throwing down his twist, stepping on it, Xris stalked over to stare gloomily out the Schiavona's viewscreen at the stars.

 

    "What the devil do we do now?" Jamil asked.

 

    "Your guess is as good as mine," Xris said grimly. "Anyone got any bright ideas?"

 

    Tycho, who had absentmindedly allowed himself to turn the gray color of the metal bulkheads, shook his head.

 

    Quong might not have heard the question. He had placed his hands on his knees, was gazing at a point in the center of the deck.

 

    Pleased with the response, though he had no idea what caused it, Raoul pattered on. "The Royal Navy. Something about the military has big problems and those dreadful people intended to take advantage of the situation."  "Did they say anything else?" Xris asked.

 

    Raoul's brow furrowed in thought, something he never would have permitted--furrowing was bad for the complexion--but the situation appeared grave. At this point, the Little One nudged him with an elbow. They held one of their silent conversations and Raoul's brow cleared. He assisted the dewrinkling process by smoothing his skin with his hand while he talked.

 

    "Yes, that is correct. My friend reminds me that the dreadful woman mentioned something to the effect that the number of hours stated didn't give them a great deal of time. The ugly man replied that the 'device' was completed. They merely had to transport it to the location and set it up. And then he said that my termination order was canceled. But I don't see how "

 

    The Little One climbed up beside his friend and shook his arm. Raoul listened to the unspoken voice. His eyes widened; his gaze went to Xris.

 

    "Dear, dear," he said. "I'm beginning to understand. We do have a problem, don't we?"

 

    "Well, l don't understand." Harry was bewildered. "You guys always do this to me! What's going on?"

 

    "Just this," said Xris, turning around. "If something does happen to the king, we're the ones who're going to be blamed for it."

 

    "Huh?" Harry was baffled. "Why?"

 

    "It will look as if we kidnapped Rowan in order to disrupt the communications of the Royal Navy in order to assassinate the king." "Oh," said Harry. "Gotcha." The news sank in. "Wow!" "But we're still not sure that's what they intend," Jamil argued. "Who are these people? What is their motivation? How did they get hold of the plans for Snaga Ohme's machine? And are they really serious about this?"

 

    "They're serious, all right," Rowan said, studying the computer printout. She looked at Raoul. "Did you know someone called Bosk?"

 

    "Oh, yes." Raoul and the Little One exchanged glances and nods. Raoul sniffed. "We never liked Bosk, personally. He thought far too highly of himself. Everyone knew his hair wasn't his own. And what he did have, he bleached. Yet, for some reason, our late employer, Snaga Ohme, took a fancy to the man."

 

    "Bosk was in Ohme's confidence," Rowan continued.

 

    "His confidence, his bed, you name it." Raoul flipped his own long hair languidly over one shoulder.

 

    "And if anyone in that household knew Ohme's secrets, it would be Bosk."

 

    "Yes. Not a doubt. He was the one who could have used the collagen treatments," Raoul added in an undertone to the Little One.

 

    "Bosk is dead, Xris," Rowan said. She handed him the printout. "They murdered him to get the plans for the device. It's all right here."

 

    It was: a detailed report on the murder of the wretched Bosk, related in a completely professional, detached manner that chilled the blood.

 

    I shot the subject through the head, read one portion. I then proceeded to cut out the subject's eyeball. Holding it to the scanner, I was thus able to obtain the necessa .ry files.

 

    Yes, there was no doubt these people were serious. They'd murdered once. And, judging by the beating they'd given the Little One and the threats they'd made to kill Raoul, they were prepared to murder again. Xris read through the rest of the material. It was disjointed, incomplete, the downloading of the files having been interrupted by the Canis Major's unexpected jump to hyperspace. But he was finding enough to make him start to believe that the young king's life was truly in danger.

 

    Xris had been one of the envied few invited to attend the coronation. Dion Starfire, the embodiment of hope for a war-toru galaxy, kneeling at the foot of the archbishop, pledging himself to serve the people, to dedicate his life to that service.

 

    And Xris remembered another time--a time tinged with smoke, hot with fire, soaked in blood. The time he'd seen Dion Starfire work a miracle.

 

    And then there was the king's wife, the beautiful Astarte.

 

    Xris shook his head irritably. He was spending far too much time these days tromping down memory lane.

 

    "But who are these people?" Jamil sounded irritated. "I've asked twice now."

 

    "The Knights of the Terra Nera," Xris read, flipping through the printout.

 

    "Sounds pretty hokey to me," Jamil observed.

 

    "Nothing on them," Xris said. "I wonder--"

 

    "I can still get into the bureau's files," Rowan offered.

 

    Xris regarded her silently. She flushed beneath his gaze.

 

    "I needed to keep track of the Hung," she said defensively. "What they were doing. Who was in prison. Who was out."

 

    "I take it the bureau doesn't know you're rifling through their secret files?"

 

    She shook her head.

 

    "Go ahead, then. See what you can dig up on these knights--if anything."

 

    Rowan went down to the bridge. A moment later, he heard her conversing with the computer.

 

    "I'll ... just go along with her. See if she needs some help," Harry added, blushing.

 

    "Damn!" Xris took out another twist. He stared at it gloomily, thrust it back into the case--the case the king had given to him. "If only I could get hold of Dixter!"

 

    "Maybe we're worried about nothing," Jamil argued. "With the Navy on alert, expecting revolution, the Royal Guard will certainly be taking extra precautions to protect the king."

 

    "Unfortunately, they won't be able to protect him against this type of device," Quong pointed out. "Since it must use an energy beam to explode the micromachines, the device doesn't have to look like a weapon. It could look as innocent as ..." he paused, shrugged, "a microwave oven."

 

    "That's sort of what the damn thing is," Xris said, scanning the file. "Here"--he tossed the file to Quong--"see if it makes sense to you. It reads like a lot of scientific voodoo to me."

 

    Quong read. The more he read, the graver his expression. "It is not voodoo, Xris." He looked up. "They're talking about building a phase-modulated maser with a tungsten core guide in the ten-point-two-hundred-twenty-eightgigahertz-band transmitten If they have truly developed such a device. it will do exactly what Snaga Ohme intended it to do. It will kill anyone with micromachines in the bloodstream. It will kill the king." "How? Explain in words of three syllables or less." Quong gathered his thoughts. "I said it could look like a microwave oven. That is basically how it works. A microwave oven resonates water molecules when tuned to the correct frequency. This device--they call it a negative wave device--both transmits and pulses energy waves. These waves are designed to cause the crystal power lattice of each micromachine in the king's body to resonate. The resonation causes the lattice to become unstable, the pulsing causes the lattice to shatten The process takes just over a minute.

 

    "At that time, all of the micromachines in King Dion's body will explode. The explosions will perforate every vein and organ, causing the young man to bleed to death. The pain would be excruciating, a terrible way to die. No matter how quickly medical help arrived, no one could save him. Once the explosions go off, there is no way possible to repair such massive damage.

 

    "I would say these knights are quite serious," Quong added. "They have gone to enorunous expense to produce such a device. They intend to use it."

 

    "We can send a message to the king," Janill offered. "Warn him to cancel all his plans for the next few days. Certainly that would get through."

 

    Xris almost laughed. "Do you 'know how many warnings like this Dion gets every day? His Majesty has a secretary who does nothing but handle death threats. Dion's never let it stop him before. Why would he do so now?"

 

    "We have a saying, 'One who lives in fear of death has already died.' He is a wise young man," Quong remarked.

 

    "He may be a dead young man," Rowan said, climbing up from the cockpit. Harry trailed along behind her. "I found that group. They've got quite a thick file, dating back a good long time. Here's the gist of the report.

 

    "The organization is known as the Knights of the Terra Nera. Translation: the Knights of the Black Earth. This group dates back to the time when Earth--through overpopulation, pollution, and a few local nuclear wars--was starting to become uninhabitable. That was when humans took to the stars.

 

    "Originally, the knights began as a group of environmentalists. They disapproved of space travel. They tried to convince people to remain on Earth, use their talents and money for improving the planet, not abandoning it. But, of course, no one listened.

 

    "At about this time, the knights turned violent. They went from holding passive sit-ins to blowing up rocket-launching sites. But they were unable to stop progress."

 

    "So what's their problem now?" Harry asked. "Are they still against spaceflight?"

 

    "Hardly. Over the years, their organization changed, evolved. That's what has kept them going. According to the information the bureau was able to gather, the Knights of the Black Earth now see their mission as one to preserve mankind's heritage. All things related to Earth are held sacred. The knights' home base is on Earth." Rowan glanced at Tycho. "Anything produced on other, alien planets is considered corrupt. This goes for everything: food, customs-but especially religion.

 

    "To most of us, Earth is a world of skeletal cities, rotting garbage, unbreathable atmosphere. But to the knights, the Terra Nera is holy ground. Only those humans who are born on Earth or who can trace their ancestry back to someone born on Earth are permitted to enter the knighthood."

 

    Rowan looked over at Xris. "The bureau had a heck of a time finding someone who was capable of infiltrating."

 

    "They sent someone in?"

 

    "Yes." Rowan nodded. "The bureau takes this group very seriously. Here's what they found out. And, unfortunately, here's where our theory starts to break down. The knights were pleased when Dion Starfire became king. It seems that his ancestry can be traced back to Earth."

 

    Xris caught on. "So the knights have no reason to kill the king."

 

    Rowan shrugged. "Maybe he did something to make them change their mind."

 

    "You said they were fanatics about Earth-based religions. The queen is a High Priestess of a religion that got its start on another planet. The king's been promoting that religion pretty heavily these days. Maybe that's what got them pissed off," Xris said thoughtfully.

 

    "And maybe that is what this means." Quong referred back to the printout. "'The king's death will serve as a warning to all nonbelievers. The galaxy will be thrown into chaos, but, since our Knight Commander is a well-known person in a highly visible position, he will arrange for one of our own to take over the government.'"

 

    "It is revolution, then," said Jamil grimly. "What the Navy is afraid of happening is going to happen."

 

    "And the Navy will figure that we're the ones making it happen," Xris said.

 

    "And when this machine goes off and the king drops down dead, our lives won't be worth the paper they're printed on," Tycho added darkly, if somewhat obscurely.

 

    "Does the bureau have any idea who this Knight Commander is?"

 

    Rowan shook her head. "The infiltrator couldn't find out. Apparently no one in the knighthood knows for sure. His identity is kept a closely guarded secret, even from his own people."

 

    "Well, what do we do now, boss?" Harry asked.

 

    The others regarded Xris expectantly. He took a twist from its case, stared at it, not them.

 

    "The way I see it, there's only one logical solution. I go to the nearest Naval base. I turn myself in. I tell them this was all my doing, you guys were just obeying orders. I cut a deal."

 

    The others were silent.

 

    Xris didn't see what they were doing; he was looking at the twist. "As for His Majesty, I'll tell them what we know--"

 

    "That's good," Jamil growled. "Plead insanity."

 

    Xris glanced up.

 

    "It won't work, Xris." Rowan shook her head.

 

    He started to argue, but Jamil waved a hand.

 

    "I can see it now. You stroll onto a Naval base, apologize for breaking into their top-secret facility and kidnapping their number-one code expert at gunpoint. Then you tell them that it was all a mistake and you're sorry and oh, by the way, you've discovered a bunch of knights from old Earth who are planning to microwave the king."

 

    "And they send you to the loony planet for twenty years or so," Harry added, grinning. "Not much of a plan, Xris."

 

    "It won't save His Majesty," Quong pointed out. "You yourself said he gets threats like this every day. We're the only ones who know that this threat is real. That these people are both willing and able to put it into action."

 

    "And it may not save you, Xris," Rowan added softly. "Especially if what you predict actually comes to pass. They'll blame you--and they'll execute you."

 

    "I suppose you want to go after these characters yourselves," Xris said, looking around. One by one, they all nodded.

 

    "I will abide by the decision of the majority." Raoul yawned. Pillowing his head on the Little One's small lap, the Adonian was almost immediately asleep.

 

    Xris suddenly realized how tired he was, bone-hurting, muscle-aching tired. The rest of the team, he guessed, were in much the same condition. They were all casting envious glances at the slumbering Raoul.

 

    "How much time have we got?"

 

    Rowan consulted her watch. "Fifty-eight hours. About two and a half days."

 

    "String up the hammocks," Xris ordered. "We'll get some rest while we can. Odds are we won't be getting much later."

 

    Jamil pulled the rolled-up hammocks out of storage, handed them to Tycho, who strung them across the living quarters. Harry went down to check on the computer. He returned to announce that they'd be coming out of hyperspace in about eight hours, near Olefsky's home planet, and did Xris want to change that?

 

    Xris thought about it, said no. They'd have to find out the king's traveling and speaking schedule, especially where he'd be at the end of fifty-eight hours. Olefsky could do that for them.

 

    Nodding, Harry went back to con finn the course before he went to bed. The others had already climbed into the hammocks and were soon at rest, rocking slowly back and forth with the motion of the spaceplane. Raoul remained where he was, curled up on one of the steel benches, his head on the Little One's lap. The Little One remained awake, one small hand gently stroking Raoul's shining black hair.

 

    Xris paused, stood in front of the Little One. The empath stared up at him with that one bright gleaming eye.

 

    "She's telling me the truth, isn't she?" Xris asked in a soft undertone. "About Armstrong, about the explosion, about everything. She's telling the truth."

 

    The single eye closed, opened again. The fedora bobbed up and down.

 

    "And I've put her life in jeopardy. I've blown her cover. I've killed her just as surely as if I had shot that poisoned needle into her."

 

    The Little One made no response. The single eye flickered. Perhaps he hadn't understood a word Xris had said.

 

    It didn't matter. Xris knew the truth now anyway.

 

    He found his hammock by the lambent light shining from the cockpit down below, where the computer was awake and working. No one else was, except him. The silence of their sleep was thick and warm.

 

    That wouldn't last long. Harry snored; Jamil ground his teeth. Tycho made a weird bubbling noise in his chest, like a teakettle coming to a boil, while Quong occasionally performed surgery in his sleep, talked himself through the operation. But for now, the plane was quiet.

 

    Xris lay in his hammock a long time, stating into the silence.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 30

 

 

 

    One man in a thousand, Solomon says, Will stick more close than a brother... But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side To the gallows foot--and after!

 

    Rudyard Kipling, Rewards and Fairies, "The Thousandth Man"

 

 

    "Xris," said Harry, shaking him by the shoulder. "Xris. Wake up. We got trouble." Xris was awake immediately. "What? What's wrong?" "We came out of hyperspace and contacted Olefsky on that special channel he gave us. He says that your house is under surveillance. Guys in suits. They're monitoring space traffic. I did a long-range scan. There's some sort of big ship around on the far side--" "Who's got us under surveillance?" Xris tried to wake up. "Darlene says that it's probably the bureau. Likely they got a make on us from the Navy before communications were shut down."

 

    Xris fumbled for a twist. He eyed Harry. "Darlene?"

 

    Harry blushed. "Major Mohini."

 

    "Rowan."

 

    "All right, then. Rowan. Anyway, I jumped us back outta there. We're in the Lanes again. A short hop. I didn't know what you wanted to do."

 

    Xris didn't, either. He'd planned on communicating their information to Bear Olefsky, but that now appeared to be impossible, what with the bureau crouching in front of the hole, waiting for the mice. Besides, Xris reflected, what could I really tell Olefsky? That he'd believe? Or that would be at all helpful to the king or those guarding him?

 

    Keep on the lookout for a bunch of radical knights wielding a deadly microwave oven?

 

    He started to follow Harry, noticed a red light flashing on his arm. His battery was running low. Opening his leg compartment, he switched packs, put in a fresh charge. When that was done, Xris glanced at his chronometer. The assassination was scheduled to take place fifty-nine hours from when they'd left the Canis Major. Subtract ten hours for sleep and travel. They were down to forty-nine hours now.

 

    Xris went forward, descended into the cockpit. He found Rowan awake, looking rumpled and bedraggled. She was sitting in the copilot's chair, staring bleakly out at the unending blackness of hyperspace. She looked depressed, unhappy. Harry looked guilty.

 

    "So what have you two been up to?" Xris demanded.

 

    Harry flushed again. "Nothing," he mumbled.

 

    "Come off it, Harry. You can't lie your way out of a paper bag." A Tychoism.

 

     "Don't blame Harry, Xris." Rowan rested her head on her hand. "I asked him to try to put me through to Dixter."

 

    "I didn't think you'd mind." Harry was defensive.

 

    "I had to, Xris," Rowan continued. "Don't worry. I didn't put us in any danger. The call was brief." "How brief?"

 

    "Very." Her mouth twisted in that lopsided, sad smile. "Oh, well." She shrugged it off. "I didn't expect anything else."

 

    But it was eating at her. And it occurred to Xris, for the first time, that Rowan had enjoyed life at RFComSec. She had worked long and tirelessly, gained the respect, esteem, and trust of her superiors. It was what he knew suddenly-she had lived for. That, too, was ruined. Gone, beyond reclamation.

 

    Xris chewed on a twist, but even that noxious weed couldn't eradicate the bitter taste in his mouth. Maybe, just maybe, this was one way he could make things good for her again.

 

    He rested his hand, his good hand, on her shoulder. The movement was awkward, clumsy. But her face was illuminated. She looked up at him.

 

    "I'm sorry," he said softly.

 

    Her eyes dimmed with tears. She placed her hand over his, paused a moment to clear her throat. "I'm not. I hadn't realized..." She stopped, swallowed, started over. "I was in prison, Xris. A comfortable cell, but it was prison. Now I'm free. I'm free."