Final Inquiries (43 page)

Jamie shut his eyes, and could see the words from his notepad, clear as day. "We agreed when we got here that we were 'controlled by a superior, external hierarchy.'"

"That's correct. In other words, the setup was that you weren't under me, so I couldn't interfere with your investigation. Quite proper. Correct procedure. But the Vixa are using it as
their
loophole. The Stanlarr and the Reqwar have both agreed to post observers in and around the human residential compound. That ought to be enough protection for run-of-the-mill civilians. At least I pray to God it is. But you two--"

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded. "We shot up one of their domes, probably humiliated the Preeminent Director, blasted two simulants into scrap metal and dead meat, then helped dissect a third sim--though they don't know about that last one yet. I think."

"An excellent summing-up," said the ambassador. "And I thank you for all of your service. But if you go aboard our ship, they will regard that as canceling all rights of passage. They'll declare us an enemy vessel. And their navy is quite good. They made it quite clear that if I pushed any harder for
you
to come along, they'd cancel the clearance for the interns--and maybe for the whole embassy staff. They're playing rough." The ambassador looked exhausted, half-slumped-over in his seat, the table in front of him buried in a chaos of papers and datapads. But he made the effort to sit up straighter, and look them both in the eye. "I said there's nothing I can do. But that's not true. I can break the rules. This embassy owes you. The
human race
owes you. So to hell with the Vixa. We take you along and smuggle you past their searches, somehow. No pack of murderous thugs can tell me to leave the two of you behind."

"No, sir," said Hannah. "But
we
can tell you that. And we are. Jamie--Special Agent Mendez and I--have talked it over. Our job--one of our jobs--is to protect others. We can't do that if our mere presence endangers everyone else. We stay off the ship. Besides, there's a job that needs doing. One that we can do best from here, in the joint ops center. One that I think you'll approve of. In fact, it will
require
your approval, and Xenologist Remdex's okay as well. We think we can work it so we're safe--more or less--in the joint ops center. Once the job is done, we'll wait for the right moment, and run like hell for the Reqwar Pavlat embassy, or call them for a dustoff and pickup. They owe us some favors."

"They seemed to think the same thing," said the ambassador. "When I contacted them asking for help regarding the human civilians, I happened to mention you by name while explaining the situation. Apparently you know the, ah, chief executive of one of their planets?"

"You could say that we, ah, got him the job, sir," said Jamie.

"That's what
they
said, too," Stabmacher agreed. "I didn't quite know what to make of it. For what it's worth--and it may be worth quite a lot--you've both been granted full Reqwar Pavlat citizenship, as well as citizenship on the Pavlat home world, effective as of about thirty seconds ago. If you do choose to stay, they'll do all in their power to protect you--but that might not be enough."

"We'll take the chance," said Jamie. "We've been in tight spots before. We'll manage."

"I'm starting to believe that," Stabmacher said. "But what's this task you want to do?"

"It's pretty simple," said Jamie. "BSI agents have to do a lot of cop work, of course. Some times we have to edge over into your territory--diplomacy. We're thinking of branching out into a whole new area."

"And what would that be?" Stabmacher asked.

Jamie smiled, and gestured toward Hannah. "Hannah and I are going to hang out our shingle on the joint ops center," he said. "We're going to see about practicing a little freelance interstellar law."

TWENTY-FOUR

DEPARTURE

The last thing the embassy staff needed was the well-intentioned but fumbling help of two outsiders who hadn't ever been through an evac drill.

Hannah and Jamie were unwillingly passive observers, shoved to one side once it came down to the crunch. They watched the show from the same bench in front of the main embassy building that they had used on their first night there.

The compound was a mess. Paper blew everywhere. Puddles of cold ash were kicked up by the wind and then thrown down again. Heaps of clothes, abandoned suitcases, books, tools, equipment, supplies were scattered everywhere. Doors were left wide open. A window or two had been smashed in order to save time moving large and bulky objects. The flowers and plants in Zhen Chi's garden were simply gone, with nothing left but heaped-up piles of dirt. Perhaps she had hustled them on board the
Kofi Annan.
Perhaps there was some regulation that required the garden to be destroyed during an evacuation. Perhaps she was just determined to leave nothing behind that might be sullied by the Vixa.

For some reason, one of the tables from the Snack Shack had been dragged outdoors along with four chairs. Four full place settings were arranged on it--including, somewhat incongruously, four BSI coffee mugs identical to the one at the crime scene. It looked as if someone had intended to have one last civilized meal before departure. But that meal was never going to happen.

There were shouts, crashes, and thuds coming from everywhere, then nowhere. The whole place would mysteriously go silent, then abruptly erupt in noise all over again.

People had been rushing in and out of the ship's main hatch, but it was getting to the point where most of the traffic was one-way, into the ship.

Just minutes before the takeoff deadline, the main embassy gates swung open, and a large manually operated groundcar came roaring up. Tancredo Zamprohna was driving, and driving fast. He slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt five meters from the main building. He was out of the car before it stopped moving, and immediately set to work hustling a gaggle of bewildered, tearful, frightened teenagers into the
Kofi Annan.
He saw them to the main hatch.

Jamie and Hannah watched as he hugged his daughter good-bye. "Weird to see a guy with ideas as wrong as his work so hard to do the right thing," said Jamie.

"Yeah, well he's only human," said Hannah. "And I don't feel right sitting here watching his good-byes to his daughter. Especially with this camera helmet strapped to my head. It feels downright creepy to be recording this."

"We've got to get it all," said Jamie, reaching up to touch the helmet-cam rig he was wearing. "So everyone else can see it later."

"Some plans sound better than they turn out to be," said Hannah. "I'm starting to think this wasn't our best idea."

Milkowski had come up to Zamprohna, and the two of them were arguing. Jamie probably could have fiddled with the camera's microphones, and heard what they were saying, but it wasn't really necessary. The gestures and hand-waving, and the snatches of speech that he did manage to hear, told it all. Zamprohna wanted to stay in the compound and see the ship off. Milkowski told him that was a good way to get himself killed or hurt--and probably the last thing that the human civilians who were being left behind needed to deal with was a badly wounded man.

The wind shifted, just for a moment, and Jamie could hear Milkowski clearly. "So get the hell out of here. You won't do your daughter any good by staying, you'll be able to watch the liftoff better from farther away--and you'll have less chance of being shot at."

There were times when there was nothing harder to say no to than a perfectly logical and reasonable argument. Jamie could read it on Zamprohna's face. There was no sense to it at all, but it was obvious the man felt he was betraying his daughter by moving a few hundred meters away. Jamie felt for the man. Jamie knew
he
wouldn't have felt right if Milkowski had bullied
him
into abandoning his post. "I'm almost starting to feel glad we're staying," he said.

"You'll change your mind," said Hannah.

"'Almost,' I said." He checked the time. "Twenty minutes to go. Let's not cut it too close, people," he said, addressing the embassy in general.

With obvious vast reluctance, Zamprohna got back into his vehicle, turned it around, and went out the way he had come in.

Milkowski trotted over toward them, and they stood up as he approached. "Time for me to get aboard," he said. "Listen, Zamprohna wanted me to pass the word. There's at least twenty Vixan defender-caste Sixes out there. It looks like they're just waiting around until the deadline passes."

"What will they do then?" Hannah asked.

Milkowski shrugged. "Ask the Sixes when they get here. Zamprohna also said there was a group of about fifty Kendari marching along the road toward here, carrying what looked like portable ramping gear. And before you ask which compound they're headed for, I don't know."

"Great," said Jamie. "Things couldn't be going better."

Milkowski checked the time and swore. "Look, I
have
to go. Thanks. Thanks again. For everything. More than you know. If you're going to change your mind and come along, this is your last chance. I'll hold the hatch as long as I can--but time is running out."

"Thanks, Frank," said Hannah. "But we've made up our minds."

"Right," said Milkowski. "Okay then. Good-bye and good luck to you." He made a tentative step toward the ship, then hesitated.

"What is this--your imitation of Zamprohna's farewell?" Jamie asked. "We're staying. You're going. It's okay--and you have to go
now.
"

Milkowski opened his mouth, as if to say something more, then shrugged again, turned, and trotted for the ship.

The outer doors of the joint ops center boomed open again. The embassy comm techs had been working frantically to set things up to work from there, but Jamie had thought they had already finished up and gone aboard.

Apparently they had--it wasn't the techs. It was Brox. He stepped out of the doors, looked about, and headed directly for them. Jamie poked at Hannah. "Look who's here," he said, and stood up to go over and meet him halfway. "Brox, you've got to get out of here. Your people will be sealing their ship any minute now."

"They already have sealed it," said Brox. "I am remaining here with you. I have many reasons." He started speaking quickly, before they could object or interrupt. "First, I brought you into all this. Honor requires that I see you through it. Second, without your work, I doubt we would have ever known the truth about how Emelza was killed. That is a debt that cannot be repaid--but it must be acknowledged. Third, it seemed sensible to me that a Kendari be part of what you are planning to do. It can only make the impact greater. And fourth, I felt I had to warn you--"

"About the Kendari marching this way right now," said Hannah. "We just got the word, but that's about all we know."

"Then you need to know more. They are part of a group that is roughly as irrational as your Human Supremacy League. The Vixa managed to convince them that you two--not just any human beings, but
you two in particular
--were at least indirectly responsible for Emelza's death."

"I think we've got a pretty good alibi for that one," said Hannah. "Being in the wrong star system and all. Not arriving on planet until she'd been dead half a day."

"Both our species include individuals who will believe what they want to believe," said Brox. "But delusional or not, they
are
coming after the two of you, and I don't believe the Vixan security forces will be very eager to protect you from them."

"No, I don't suppose they will," Hannah agreed.

"But what about the 'all and only' clause?" Hannah asked. "Suppose the Vixa stop your embassy ship and find out you're not aboard."

"Xenologist Flexdal has prepared a multilayered tissue of lies that should provide an adequate defense. He will cling to each as long as he can, then change his story as required," Brox replied. "It was a misunderstanding. There was a translating error. I was left behind inadvertently in the confusion. If need be, to protect the rest of the ship's company, he will inform them that I was unfortunately killed in an accident just before departure."

"And when they find you're still alive at the end of all this?"

"Assuming I am still alive then, we can worry about that problem later. The worst they can do is kill me for real--after our embassy ship is safely out of Vixan space."

Suddenly they heard a sound like the shriek of a badly annoyed dinosaur. "That's our alert siren," said Brox. "Our ship's departure sequence will start in less than a minute. It will involve the use of various pyrotechnic devices, and there might be some flying debris. I would suggest that we move to someplace less exposed."

"Inside the main building, I guess," said Jamie, pointing the way. "If we hunker down inside, we should be safe enough, and we'll be able to look out through the windows--and stick the cameras up there too."

"I was going to suggest that we head to the joint operations center now," said Brox, "but I gather you want to record everything. Very well. Let us go--and hope the explosion debris is well behaved."

They had no sooner gotten inside the main building when there was a series of sharp reports, hard and fast, that made the floor tremble slightly. Jamie crouched in front of the window, checking the drop-down monitor of his helmet cam to make sure it was getting a good view. There was a series of deeper, more booming explosions--and suddenly the Kendari embassy ship came into view, just over the roof of the joint ops center. It was a big, thick-waisted, unlovely thing, a dull green cucumber shape lumbering up into the sky. But it was a ship. And it was getting away.

Hannah checked her wrist display. "Our turn in about thirty seconds!" she called. "We're closer, so this is going to be hairier." She went up to the window to kneel next to Jamie, not wanting to miss anything--but not wanting her head blown off, either. "In twenty!" she called out. "Get yourself ready, Brox!"

"How would I do that?" he asked. "What would make me ready?"