The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy (23 page)

to the sea.

“At least there’s nobody around,” Roland said.

Tyne asked Chas to bring the lander down as close to the wall as possible. Shuddering, it sank into the dubious shelter of the surrounding shops and houses and settled on the road five meters from the gate.

They descended into the gale.

Sheets of rain battered the deserted streets, whipped at their faces, trickled into clothes. A torn awning snapped and swung. A wind-driven box clattered and banged its way down Lobok Avenue, audible

even above the thunder of the storm.

Saahren led the way, followed by Allysha, then Roland. They sprinted for the gate, fighting the wind. A ptorix stood in the entrance to the gatehouse, his conical body swathed in a cape beaded with water

droplets. His eyes glowed blue and he held a weapon in one hand.

Allysha pushed forward. “No need for alarm,” she said in Ptorix, holding out the envelope containing the letter of authorization.

He jerked when she spoke to him, then moved back into the gatehouse, beckoning. “I know you.”

She followed him into the room, Roland and Saahren in her wake. The ptorix retreated behind a

counter, weapon in one hand, the envelope in another, while the tentacles from a third hand deftly

extracted the document.

“This looks in order,” the ptorix said, peering at the side of the letter written in Ptorix. “My name’s Vanraas. I’ve seen you here lots of times. Not a great day to be out.”

Allysha grinned, forcing herself to be patient. “Pleased to meet you, Vanraas. And yes, you’re right

about that. Isn’t it always the way, though? If something goes wrong, it’s always in the worst weather.”

“Very true,” Vanraas agreed. “Well, you know where to go, I expect.”

“That’s right. And the sooner it’s done, the sooner we can go home.”

Vanraas hesitated. “Those humans… they look a bit like soldiers. At least, the tall one does.” He

sounded doubtful.

Allysha leaned toward him as though confiding in him. “I think they used to be. They work for Medway

Development Corporation—the people I’m working for. These two are here to make sure I get back

okay, you know what I mean?”

Vanraas’s eating mouth jerked in assent. “It hasn’t been nice.” He pressed a button under the counter.

“Use the door in the gate. I’ve unlocked it for you.”

She thanked him and pulled out the tracker. The signal was strong. Sean was in the university.

Allysha opened the door a crack. A blast of air whistled in with a sharp spatter of raindrops. She slipped out, Roland and Saahren right behind her. They made the short sprint to the doorway in the gate, and climbed gratefully into the university grounds. They stopped, huddled together against the wall.

“Everything okay?” Saahren said.

Allysha pushed wet hair off her face and nodded. “He recognized me. It helps.”

Saahren pointed at the tracker. “Have you found our target?”

Allysha nodded. “He’s going to the control room in the university. See here?” she showed him on the display. “It’s under the fortress where they control all the service systems—plumbing, sewage, lighting, power—everything.”

Everything.

She groaned. “Oh, no. No.”

“What?”

“The university has a climate conditioning system, in the student refectory. You can get into the water pipes from the control room. The maintenance people regularly introduce disinfectant to control bugs.”

She didn’t say the rest—Saahren would have made the jump. How horribly ironic that a device to kill bugs would be used to introduce bugs that kill. The pictures she’d seen in the laboratory on Tisyphor flooded into her mind; the sounds, the fear, the rotting, blackened tentacles. Imagine that taking hold, spreading through the town. Sean couldn’t know what was in the canister. He couldn’t do something so dreadful. She had to stop him. The fool, the insufferable, idiotic fool was being used, she was sure.

Saahren interrupted her thoughts, hunched up in his coat. “We won’t achieve anything standing out here getting wet. The rain’s slackened a little. Let’s go.”

The walls afforded a level of protection from the wind. Although the rain had almost stopped, a glance toward the sea was enough to show the abatement would be temporary. Ragged mist drifted among the buildings and water dripped off eaves and the branches of trees. A number of people of both species took advantage of the lull in the weather to make a dash from one building to another. The three humans were ignored.

Allysha led them along the path up to the front entrance beneath supporting pillars formed and decorated to resemble stylized trees. They splashed through puddles and brushed past wet bushes amid the different sounds of water dripping, splashing, running. A human hurried past them with a muttered “sorry” as he brushed Roland’s shoulder. The water had penetrated her clothing. Her neck and ears felt cold but at least she wasn’t soaked to the skin.

Unusually, the front entrance was closed. She pressed the prominent panel in the center of the elaborately carved wood and it slid back silently, enough to let two people abreast through.

“Very nice. One of the best I’ve seen.” The journalist gazed up at the vaulted ceiling and the carved limestone walls, all curves and flows and intricate patterns, designed to look like an elaborate cave.

Lights glowed from features resembling stalactites but shaped into animals and plants.

“I guess so.” It was most certainly a magnificent building. She didn’t even see these places any more, she’d been there so often.

“Hiya, Cheshnor,” she said to the elderly ptorix door warden standing at his station just inside the door.

Go through the motions, look normal, look as though you belong .

Cheshnor bowed in greeting, tentacles aquiver. “It has been some time, young Allysha. Have you been well in these troubling times?”

If only he knew. “Well enough. I need to go down to the control room. Here’s the authority.” She handed over the authorization sheet, willing him to hurry.

“Of course, of course.”

Cheshnor glanced at the document and entered the number in the register. Just as well there was no automatic cross-reference.

“These humans, they are with you?”

“Um. Yes. As you say, troubling times. They’re here to look after me.” She moved her arms, indicating embarrassment.

Cheshnor’s eyes whirled green for a moment, then settled back to reddish orange. His fingers moved like water grass within the red and gold sleeves of his tunic. “Sad that it has come to this, at Shernish University, of all places. All this violence. It was never like this when I was young.” He rumbled, equivalent to a human sigh.

“As you say, Cheshnor.” If she didn’t get away, she would be treated to a dissertation on how much the place had changed. Another time she’d be interested. “Well, I’d better be getting on. Be seeing you.”

She gave the ptorix a cheerful wave using all fingers on both hands.

“What is our status?” Saahren asked as they walked across the frescoed floor to the lift.

She checked the tracker for Sean. “No doubt about it. He’s headed for the control room.”

Allysha stood aside for a group of ptorix students coming out of the lift. Their eyes gleaming violet, they pushed between her and the two men. She waited until the students had passed, then took a step toward the lift. Somebody jostled her from behind. She stumbled, tried to regain her feet and staggered. Her feet slipped beneath her and she fell onto her elbows. The tracker bounced on the tiles. Roland bounded forward, shouldering a student out of the way to retrieve the unit. One of the other students snatched the device in writhing blue fingers, his eyes purple with fury. “Chorhuz.”

“Hey, give that back,” Roland snapped, arm reaching out.

The student with the tracker smashed the device deliberately, hard against a wall decoration, and dropped it. With a gurgle of derisive laughter he made off after his colleagues.

“Stupid toe rag bastard.” Roland made to follow but Saahren held him back.

“Bad luck, Roland, we can’t afford to make a scene.”

Ignoring her painful elbows, Allysha scrambled to her feet and retrieved the tracker from where it lay in a litter of limestone fragments. The shattered stone where the carving had broken off glowed white and new. Damnation. She turned the device over. The young ptorix had smashed the tracker with enough

force to dent the surface. Idiot. If he only realized he’d just jeopardized his own safety and that of his colleagues. She swallowed her anger as best she could. It wouldn’t help.

She entered the car, the other two behind her, pressed for level B-2 and checked the tracker.

“Does it still work?” Saahren asked, peering over her shoulder.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t trust it. See? It’s saying Sean’s in the history department. That’s not possible. It’s on the second floor. That’s up.” She put the tracker back in her pocket. “We’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Roland’s eyes darted around the inside of the car, taking in the abstract curves and colors. “This art is better than anything I’ve seen on any of the edge worlds.”

Allysha nodded. “Yes, the University is famous for its architecture. Harks back to the glory days of the Khophirate, before it started to shrink.”

Saahren had looked around the car, too, but Allysha could see he was looking for sensors or dangers.

Such a different way of thinking, such a contrast between the two men.

The car came to a halt and the doors slid back.

“Not much light,” Roland muttered as they headed down an arched corridor.

The light sources were set into niches in the stone. It probably was pretty gloomy down here, by human standards.

“The lights are for humans. Ptorix wouldn’t even have bothered with this much. You’ll just have to get used to it,” she said.

She wondered where Sean was; whether he was ahead of them or maybe coming back toward them.

****

Anyway, the first phase was done. He’d handed the container over, as agreed. He still didn’t know what was in it; nothing good, he’d wager. Best not to think about it.

He fumbled for the door panel, wishing there was more light in these blasted tunnels. One press and he was out, back into the university’s splendid vaulted entrance hall. With a bit of luck it would have stopped raining. Still, at least he only had to go as far as his hotel. He’d wait there until his contacts confirmed that Allysha had showed up in town, pick her up and carry on from there.

He walked over to the door warden, blinking as his eyes became accustomed to the relative glare.

“I’m finished,” he said to the ptorix on duty. He wasn’t the same toe rag who’d signed him in. He’d

actually met this one. Cheshnor, that was it. “I’ll be going.”

“Your wife just arrived, Mister O’Reilly,” said Cheshnor in quite passable Standard. “Did you see her?”

Sean stared at the elderly ptorix while his stomach somersaulted. Allysha here? How? Why? “My wife?”

“Yes. She’s just gone down to the control room with two men. You must have missed her by this much.” Cheshnor held a tentacle on each of his top arms a fraction of a centimeter apart.

Sean worked to stop his jaw from dropping. Why was she going to the control room? And who with? If this had anything to do with the canister, if she removed it… An image of van Tongeren rose before his eyes, vengeful and vindictive. Panic gnawed at Sean’s gut. That canister had to stay and she had to remain undamaged. His very life depended on it.Think, Sean, think.

“You say she’s here. Do you know why?”

“Some trouble in the control room. She had a letter of authority.” The ptorix was calm, untroubled; maybe a little curious.

Sean put on a bewildered frown and shook his head. “My wife couldn’t possibly be here. She’s off-planet. Have you checked the authorization? Is it really her?”

Cheshnor’s fingers flexed in agitation, his eyes whirling violet as he checked the registration number.

Sean edged away as the elderly ptorix summoned human security. That should slow her down, at least.

She’d talk her way out of it, of course, but best not to be here when they brought her out. She wouldn’t be happy.

****

time they passed a light, and dropped back and behind as they neared the next one. She strained her ears, listening for any approaching sounds but all she heard was the soft tread of Saahren and Roland close behind her. After a hundred meters or so the corridor opened into a wider space, better lit, with corridors leading away at right angles on both sides. She walked toward the door of the control room, directly ahead.

“Hey,” called a human voice. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

She whirled. Two human security guards strode toward them, weapons in hand, from the corridor to their right. They were puffing a little, as though they’d been running.

“I’m Allysha Marten. I was called in to check out something in the control room.” She held out the authorization sheet. “Here’s my authority.”

The middle-aged guard’s stomach bulged over his belt. He barely glanced at the sheet. “This is a forgery. You’ll have to come with us.”

Allysha’s heart lurched. Even as part of her wondered how they knew she brazened it out. “Forgery?

Don’t be absurd. How could that be possible?”

“Don’t bother. Cheshnor said you were here and your husband said you couldn’t be. We checked the authorization—it doesn’t exist.” He gestured with his pistol. “Come on, all of you. Up that way.”

Buckrats. They’d spoken to Sean. He must have returned to the foyer via another corridor. Before Allysha had time to open her mouth, Saahren thrust the heel of one hand upwards in a sharp jab to the guard’s jaw while his other fist crashed into the man’s stomach. Grunting, he leaned forward, the wind knocked out of him. His weapon clattered to the floor. Saahren followed through with an uppercut. The guard slammed backwards and lay still. Roland grabbed the second man but he was younger, fitter and stronger. He escaped without his weapon, pelting away up the corridor with Saahren in pursuit.