The Knights of the Black Earth (39 page)

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 I
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. “Hie 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 empath 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, yeah? How do
you know that?”

“We were expecting
to see a research ship—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 coram 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, Rescue-two.”

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
corridor. 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 rings. 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 staring 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.

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.