The Knights of the Black Earth (33 page)

“From the Hung ...
or from me?” Xris asked.

“I heard you were
out of the hospital, asking questions about me. I wanted to see you, Xris. I
wanted to tell you the truth. But it would have been too dangerous. Not for me,”
she added before he could comment, “for you.”

He stared at her.

“Haven’t you
figured it out yet?” She was impatient. “It was the bureau who set me up, Xris!
They set me up to take the fall. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t realize until
it was too late. And if I didn’t play their game, they would have killed me,
you, Marjorie. Anyone who knew anything. You see, I not only found about the
Hung, I found out about their connection with the bureau.”

It was all
starting to make sense. Xris watched a light flash on the console. “When you
said ‘they’ killed Armstrong, you didn’t mean the Hung, did you?”

“That was when I
decided to do this.” Rowan gestured to herself, to her body. “Dalin Rowan had
to die. He knew too much. If he died, the rest of you might live.”

“Why didn’t he die
for real, then?” Xris demanded harshly.

“Because he
intended to come back from the dead,” she said softly. “One day, he was going
to return and make things right.”

“Why didn’t he?”

She was silent a
moment, then said, “You don’t feel any pain when you’re dead, Xris.
Resurrections hurt.”

He could have said
something to this, was about to when the computer interrupted. “We will be
coming out of hyperspace in mark: thirty minutes and counting.”

“Harry!” Xris
yelled.

“I’m on my way.”
Harry entered the cockpit. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he added awkwardly, blushing, as
he tripped over Rowan’s feet.

“I’ll move,” she
offered. “My throat’s dry. Talking too much.” She smiled faintly, said
something about getting some water, and left the cockpit.

Xris stared at
nothing. He had a twist in his hand but had forgotten about it. Harry looked
extremely uncomfortable, as if he wanted to ask a question but couldn’t think
of any way to phrase it. He punched a few buttons in a desultory fashion and
darted glances at Xris out of the corner of his eye.

Ignoring him, Xris
sat down in the copilot’s chair, began to strap himself in.

Rowan didn’t
return. Probably needed some time to herself. Time to recover from a painful
ordeal? Or time to think up more lies? After all, she’d had almost ten years to
devise that nifty little story.

He had to find out
if she was telling the truth.

Xris motioned to
Quong.

Yawning and
stretching, the Doc wandered over. “How are you feeling?”

Xris waved that
away. “Look, is there any way we can communicate with the Little One? I could
really use the empath’s help about now.”

Quong shook his
head. “I doubt it. He and Raoul seem to have developed some sort of strange
symbiotic connection. I’m not certain the Little One even understands what we
are saying. My guess is that he gets everything filtered through Raoul. If I
knew more about Tongans, maybe I could suggest something. But I don’t. I doubt
if any human does.”

“Then we have to
find Raoul. At least the Little One ought to be able to tell us something about
what happened to his buddy. Maybe he could answer yes-or-no questions. You
know—one blink of the eye for yes, two for no.”

“I’ll give it a
try,” Quong promised, but he didn’t sound hopeful. Shaking his head, he went to
examine his small patient.

Xris clenched his
fist, his good fist. Damn it! Trust the Loti to get himself snatched right when
he might be useful!

Harry was warning
everyone to strap themselves in.

“Coming out of
hyperspace in one minute. Counting down. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight . ..” The
computer chanted the time.

Coming out of the
jump was not nearly so traumatic as going into it. Everything seemed to slow,
to move in slow motion, but Xris had read that this was a psychological
reaction to the process. Of course, the ship was essentially slowing down, but
the human mind was not capable of comprehending the change. The main difference
one noticed was that one minute there was nothing visible and the next minute,
the viewscreen was filled with stars.

Stars and .. .

“Holy shit!” Harry
gasped, swore.

A Naval battle
cruiser, sleek and huge and powerful, came into view. Compared to the immense
cruiser, the Olicien Pest Control plane was as small and helpless as the black
beetle painted on its bright yellow hull.

“They
can’t
be after us!” Harry protested, his eyes bulging.

A warning shot
streaked past the viewscreen.

“Oh, yeah?” Xris
demanded. “That one was close enough to smell! Take us back into hyperspace.”

“But how did they
know—”

“Just do it, damn
it!” Xris shouted.

“The missile
cruiser
Starfire
requests that we cut our engines and prepare to be
towed,” said the computer. “May I add that I’m not enjoying myself anymore? I
think it would be advisable—”

“Computer, switch
to manual,” Harry commanded. “Now!”

Sullenly, the
computer did so. “It’s going to take a minute to make the calculations—”

Jamil crowded into
the cockpit. “I’ll tell you how they found us. That wasn’t any missile that hit
us back there at the space station! Navy Katana pilots can shoot straighter
than that. It must have been some sort of tracking device!”

“Through
hyperspace? That’s impossible!”

A second warning
shot skimmed past them, so close that the cargo plane bucked and rocked.

“Ask your
girlfriend!” Jamil said grimly, and before Xris could make an angry retort,
Rowan appeared.

“He’s right, Xris!
The Navy’s been working on a device capable of tracking ships through
hyperspace.”

Xris glared at
her. “You knew about this!”

“Xris, please—”
Rowan began.

“Skip it. How does
the thing work? Can we get rid of it?”

“The device
attaches itself to the outer hull. It doesn’t actually track the plane, like a
homing device. It doesn’t need to. It has one simple function, and that is to
tap into our plane’s computer, download our coordinates, and transmit them.
Once our plane has made the jump, the coordinates can’t be changed, and so the
Navy knows when and where a plane will come out of the Lanes.”

“You know a lot
about it,” Xris said.

“I invented it,”
Rowan answered. She was silent a moment, then added, “I’m glad to see it’s
working.”

Xris snorted, but
he caught himself almost smiling. The old Rowan all over again. .. .

“Your tax dollars
at work,” Tycho was muttering.

“Evasive maneuver!
Hang on!” Harry shouted.

The stars whirled.
The cruiser disappeared. Everyone clung to whatever they could find to cling
to. A thud, a yelp, and a curse came from the vicinity of the cargo bay. Quong
must not have heard the warning.

Xris was on his
feet. “Computer, how soon can we make the jump into hyperspace?”

“We will not be
going into hyperspace,” said XP-28 in self-righteous tones. “We have no
shields, no weapons. I have decided that it would be in our best interests to
surrender. I have locked out manual control.”

“Harry, take over!”

“I can’t, Xris. It’s
getting some sort of signal from that cruiser out there! I can’t override—”

“I can, Xris,”
Rowan said quietly. “You know I can.”

Xris stared at
her, grim, doubtful.

“Spaceplanes,”
reported Jamil, peering out the viewscreen.

“Flying to
intercept. We won’t outmaneuver
them.
We better do something fast.”

“Trust me, Xris,”
Rowan pleaded.

Xris spit the
soggy wad of twist out on the deck. “If you screw us, you’ll die with us.
Because I’m not about to surrender.”

He was bluffing
and he figured Rowan knew he was bluffing. The old Rowan would have. But this
one only nodded and turned to the computer.

“XP-28”—she rested
her hands on the keyboard—”good-bye.”

“What the devil is
going on?” Quong appeared in the cockpit, highly indignant, a large and
swelling bump on his forehead. “And why am I always the last one to know?”

“I’ll explain
later—” Xris began.

“Hang on, gentlemen,”
Rowan warned.

Her eyes shone;
her face was flushed. Her fingers tapped swiftly, lightly. She was enjoying
herself. And she was, Xris found himself thinking incongruously, a damn
attractive woman.

“Making the jump
in five, four ...”

There was a mad
scramble; everyone rushing to find seats, fumbling with the complicated straps
and webbing.

“Another rough
jump!” Tycho groaned.

“I hope you
realize this is upsetting my patient,” Quong snapped, hurling himself into a
chair.

“He’d be a lot
more upset in the brig,” Xris returned.

Stars flashed
before his eyes and so did most of his life. They were making the jump. And
this one, as Tycho had said, was rough.

When Xris could
breathe again and was relatively certain that his body parts—real and
mechanical—had all returned to their respective locations, he unstrapped
himself with a shaking hand.

“Everyone make it?”
he asked.

Tycho, his hand
over his mouth, was on his way to the head.

Xris returned to
the cockpit. Harry, mopping his face, looked a bit green around the gills, but
appeared otherwise fine.

Rowan was
reclining back in her seat. She was pale; her eyes were closed. Her brown hair
was damp with sweat and starting to curl around her face. But she was smiling,
obviously extraordinarily pleased with herself. Xris stood over her.

“You’re no
level-two government clerk. The Navy doesn’t make clerks majors. The Navy doesn’t
threaten to shoot clerks rather than let them fall into enemy hands. And the
Navy sure as hell doesn’t take the time and trouble to plant homing devices on
clerks to find out where they’re going. Just what the hell do you do for
RFComSec, ‘old friend’?”

Rowan looked
gravely up at Xris, and told him.

He
was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust.

William Shakespeare,
Macbeth,
Act 1, Scene 5

“Chief crypto
analyst.” Tusk stumbled over the words, then said, “What the hell does that
mean, sir?”

“It means we’re in
a bad situation. Potentially, a very bad one.” Dixter was back at his desk in
his office. He had placed an urgent call to the king, was waiting for His
Majesty to return it. “Major Mohini is our top-level code maker and breaker.
She was responsible for designing and setting up the high-level secure
communications used by every ship in the fleet. And now she’s been kidnapped.
Think about it, Tusk. Think about it.”

Tusk did. He
stared at the picture of the woman he held in his hand, said several words
appropriate to the situation, then added lamely, “Begging your pardon, sir.”

“No need to
apologize.” Dixter sighed, ran his hand through his grizzled hair. “I’ve been
saying the same myself. Do you realize that right now, at this moment, our
security is breached? Whoever has the major could potentially gain access to
the movements of the fleet, the current position of every ship of the line.
Worse then that”—Dixter’s voice lowered—”they could send out false commands.
Scatter the fleet all over the galaxy. Order our ships into Corasia, for God’s
sake!”

Tusk was on his
feet, pacing about the room. “But
why,
sir?” Coming to an abrupt halt,
he put his hands on Dixter’s desk, leaned over it. “Why would Xris— Why would
anyone— What motive—”

“Revolution,”
Dixter said dryly, “for one.”

Tusk gave a low
whistle, slowly straightened. He considered the matter, then shook his head. “No,
sir. Not Xris.”

“We can’t ignore
the evidence!” Dixter slammed his hand down on top of the vid shots. “And I can’t
afford to take chances! That’s why I ordered them shot down.”

Tusk turned away,
walked over to the window. The view of the Glitter Palace—residence of Their
Majesties, King Dion Starfire and his Queen, Astarte—was magnificent. The
palace’s crystal walls were streaked with the reds and purples and oranges of a
spectacular sunset. Tusk didn’t see it; any of it.

Once again, he was
back in the Corasian galaxy, was lying wounded, helpless on the ground beneath
his shot-up spaceplane. Corasians had him surrounded: lasfire streaked around
him. And then Xris appeared, coming out of the smoke. Using his extraordinary
strength, the cyborg lifted the injured pilot in his arms.

We’ve got a
better chance inside the plane than out,
Xris told him.

You, maybe!
Tusk vaguely remembered arguing.
Not me. Go on. Leave me!

He saw the cyborg’s
grim smile, the brooding, scarred face. He felt the strong arms, comforting,
protecting . ..

A firm hand rested
on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, son,” Dixter said quietly. “I know he was your
friend.”

“Damn it all, sir,”
Tusk said, blinking back tears, his voice choked. “I just don’t believe it! Not
Xris!”

“Good men have
gone bad before now, Tusk,” Dixter said, his voice softened. “Every man has his
price, they say. Every man ... and every woman.”

The comm buzzed.
Both men jumped, turned.

“Rear Admiral
Lopez, my lord,” Bennett reported.

Dixter hurried to
the comm room, Tusk right behind. All nonessential personnel had been ordered
out. The rest remained at their posts, carrying on business as usual, though
with a heightened tension. Everyone knew something was wrong; no one yet knew
what. All eyes glanced at Dixter as he entered, immediately shifted back to
their brightly lit screens.

Dixter sat down in
the chair, faced the screen, saw the expression on the admiral’s face, and
sighed. “That bad, eh, Rod?”