- Chapter 13

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# CHAPTER 13

It was still dark when Jensen's mental alarm clock went off. Four o'clock in the morning, or near enough.

Time to go.

For a minute he lay still on the hard ground, listening to the night sounds around him playing counterpoint to Toby's slow, even breathing. The man was asleep, with the deep oblivion of a man who'd spent a couple of hours the evening before tromping through unbroken wilderness on a bad leg.

In a way, he hated to leave the old man out here alone. Unlike the Plinry blackcollars, it didn't look like Toby had been getting the periodic low-level Idunine doses that had kept their muscles and organs young while letting their outer appearances age normally. It had been a long, hard trek, and it would be an equally hard trek back to his cabin.

But where Jensen was going, he was going alone. Carefully, wincing as his ribs flared in protest, he rolled halfway over and started to get to his feet.

"Going somewhere?" Toby asked mildly.

Jensen frowned toward the dark lump a couple of meters away. He would have sworn the other was asleep. "Thought I'd see if I could find a place that was open for breakfast," he said.

"You've found it," Toby said, sitting up. "This bush right here's the best place in the Rockies. Here—special of the day."

He held something out; a ration bar, Jensen discovered as he took it. "You're a pretty light sleeper," he commented as he tore off the end of the wrapper.

"So are you," Toby said. "Luckily for me, you're also very predictable."

"In what way?"

"For starters, this little attempt to ditch me," Toby said. "That was what you were intending, wasn't it?"

Jensen grimaced. "I appreciate all your help, Toby," he said. "But where I'm going it isn't safe for you to go."

"Why not?" Toby countered. "Didn't you and the other blackcollars close down what was left of Aegis's defenses the last time you were in there?"

So there it was, out in the open at last. "Very good," he said. "Where did you hide your telescope? I never saw it in your cabin."

"I packed it away in a rotten log after I sent Adamson and Trapper out to look for you," Toby replied. "You're good, too. I didn't realize you'd spotted me."

"I caught a couple of glints from the lens," Jensen said. "So what do you want?"

"The same thing you do," Toby said. "I want into Aegis Mountain."

Jensen shook his head. "Sorry."

"If I don't go, neither do you," Toby warned.

"Is that a threat?" Jensen asked, wishing it was light enough for him to see whether or not the other was holding his pistol.

"It's a statement of fact," Toby said. "I'm guessing that whatever you want in there is going to involve at least a little bit of heavy lifting. There's no way you're going to do any of that, not with your ribs the way they are."

"And you're not going to make it with your leg the way it is," Jensen countered. "There's a lot of walking and climbing involved."

"I'll make it," Toby said firmly. "And not to push, but this is a limited-time deal. Eventually, Security's going to get around to analyzing the pylon team's IR data and come out here for another look. The only place we can go where they won't spot us is inside the base."

"Alternatively, that's exactly what they're hoping I'll think," Jensen countered. "Maybe the plan is for you to talk me into showing you the way in."

"And then what?" Toby scoffed. "I overpower you with my bare hands and call them in?"

"You have a gun," Jensen reminded him.

Toby snorted. "And I'm supposed to threaten a blackcollar with a gun? That's hardly the way I want to die."

"How do you want to die?"

"Not that way," Toby said, a sudden oddness to his voice. "So are we going? Or would you rather be sitting here arguing about it when Security flies in to pick us up?"

Jensen grimaced as he gazed at the other's silhouette in the starlight. Toby was right, he had to admit—with his ribs in the shape they were he wasn't going to accomplish much alone. But there were still an awful lot of question marks swirling around the old hermit.

On the other hand, Toby was also right about Security coming out for a second look ... and after personally sampling their torture methods on Argent, he knew he would eventually break down and show them the secret entrance.

And he was damned if he was going to lose by default. "All right," he said reluctantly. "But you're going to have to get me to the right area. I have no idea where we are."

"We're not too far," Toby assured him, using a tree branch to help himself to his feet. "I figured we might as well head that direction to start with."

"Yeah, I sort of figured that," Jensen said, pushing himself off the ground.

"Here." Toby offered a hand.

Jensen gripped it, and together they got him upright. "Thanks," he said, pausing while the stabbing pain in his side settled back down to a dull ache. "Did you want to eat something before we go?"

"I can eat along the way." Toby hesitated. "And if it would make you feel better about me, I can give you my gun."

"No, that's okay," Jensen said, waving away the offer. "Ribs or no ribs, if I can't take care of a single old codger with a gun, I probably deserve to get shot."

"You have no idea how comforting a thought that is, too," Toby said dryly.

"I try," Jensen said. Besides, if Toby was a Security plant, he would certainly have a backup weapon tucked away somewhere. "Which way?"

"Through there," Toby said, pointing toward a gap between two stands of trees. "Give me a hand, will you, until my leg unstiffens a little?"

* * *

"Colonel?"

Bailey started awake, rolling over on the cot he'd had set up in his office. Ramirez was standing in the doorway, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Yes, what is it?" he asked, wincing as he stretched aching muscles.

"I have something here you should see," Ramirez said, coming in as Bailey sat up. "One of the pylon teams picked this up late yesterday afternoon."

Frowning, Bailey took the papers. On top was a print of an infrared-sensor photo with a small shack in the center. The legend at the bottom of the print gave the coordinates, plus the fact that it had gone through a three-stage computer scrubbing. "What am I supposed to see?" he asked.

"There appear to be two human images present," Ramirez said, pointing to two blurs in the shack. "One sitting near the window, the other lying down further back. Problem is, the cabin's owned by a hermit who allegedly lives alone."

The hairs on the back of Bailey's neck began to tingle as he peeled off the top sheet and looked at the next page down, a topo map of the region with the cabin marked with a circle. It was just above a place called Shelter Valley, a few klicks northwest of Aegis Mountain. "Didn't anyone have the brains to wonder about this?"

"Actually, sir, two of the Security men accompanying the techs did go up to take a look," Ramirez said stiffly, and Bailey belatedly remembered that those tech teams had come from Ramirez's office. "When they got there, the hermit was alone."

"Did they get any other readings?" Bailey asked, shuffling through the papers. There didn't seem to be any more prints. "Anyone have any idea where the other one might have gone?"

"Unfortunately, no," Ramirez said sourly. "The sensor data wasn't nearly clear enough for them to take any action or even send up any red flags. You can see yourself that it took three scrubbings to get it even this clear."

Bailey looked back at the first page, frowning as he spotted the time stamp. "This came through at midnight?" he snarled, jabbing a finger at the number. "Why the hell are we talking about it now?"

"I tried to talk to Battle Architect Daasaa as soon as it came through," Ramirez said, his voice under tight control. "But he wouldn't authorize me to release any of the spotters or men assigned to Athena guard duty."

"Then why didn't you bring it to me?" Bailey snarled. "Maybe I could have done something."

"Yes, sir, I thought you might," Ramirez countered. "The trouble was, you'd left the building without telling anyone where you were going. And despite what you told the garage sergeant, we weren't able to reach you by comm."

Bailey squeezed the papers tightly between his fingers, silently cursing himself. Of course they hadn't been able to contact him—he'd turned off his comm so that the background chatter wouldn't distract him from his private interrogation at the hospital and had forgotten to turn it back on. "Get a team out there now," he ordered, glancing at the rim of the sun pushing its way above the eastern horizon. "I want the cabin searched—thoroughly—and everyone in town questioned. On second thought, make it two teams. And run me up everything we have on that hermit."

"I already did that, sir," Ramirez said, indicating the papers in Bailey's hand. "But I can't send any teams without Daasaa's authorization."

"Oh, can't you?" Bailey growled, getting to his feet. It was their missing blackcollar, all right—it had to be. If he slipped through their fingers because of miscommunication or flat-out bureaucratic bumbling, heads were going to roll. Very possibly literally. "Fine. Let's go find him."

* * *

The colors of the sky to the east were fading into blue, though the sun hadn't yet appeared over the mountains, when they reached the hidden air vent. "Here we are," Jensen said, pointing to the grating at the vent's mouth as they crossed the small clearing in front of it.

"Amazing," Foxleigh said, shaking his head in wonderment. Even knowing there was something out here to find, he hadn't spotted the grating until they were practically on top of it. "You know, I actually saw the kids who were working on this, though I couldn't tell what they were doing. It wasn't until your group showed up last year that I put the pieces together."

"I'm glad Security wasn't paying you visits then," Jensen said, starting to unfasten the twisted wires that held the grating in place. "Give me a hand here, will you?"

It took them several minutes to get the grating free. After that, it took four pulls by both of them to get it off. "You were right," Jensen admitted, puffing like a distance runner. "I couldn't have done that alone."

"We're going to want to close it up behind us, aren't we?" Foxleigh asked as he peered carefully inside. Beyond the grating, a metallic tunnel stretched back about twelve meters, then seemed to turn downward.

"Absolutely," Jensen said. "Let's turn it on edge and bring it inside, see if we can wedge it into position."

Five minutes later, they had it back in position and wired again in place. "Well, that was fun," Foxleigh commented. "Any trick to the rest of it?"

"All sorts of them," Jensen assured him, pointing down the tunnel. "We start with a hundred-meter climb down a ladder, with a sonic at the bottom that'll be trying to poke holes in your balance the whole way."

"Lovely," Foxleigh said, wincing. Like he didn't have enough trouble with balance even on his better days. "You didn't think to turn it off before you left?"

"We didn't want to turn it off," Jensen said. "Anyone authorized to be in here would know about it and be mentally prepared to fight against the effects. The only others who might come in here we didn't much care about."

Foxleigh shivered. Once upon a time, he reminded himself soberly, he'd considered coming out here on his own to check the place out. It was just as well he hadn't. "Okay, consider me mentally prepared," he said. "Let's get to it."

They were at the downward curve, and Jensen was fiddling with a rope ladder that had been left behind, when Foxleigh thought he heard the distant sound of approaching patrol boats. But it could have been his imagination.

* * *

"So they're gone," Bailey said flatly.

"Yes, sir," Ramirez said, his own voice stiff and formal. Clearly, he had no intention of taking the blame for this. "They found two ropes hanging down into a ravine from pulleys fastened beneath a trick box where Toby had mounted his toilet seat."

"Where he'd what?" Bailey lifted a hand before Ramirez could answer. "Never mind—I don't want to know. Did you track along this ravine to see where it goes?"

"It doesn't seem to actually go anywhere," Ramirez said. "The stream that Toby tapped into for his water supply joins it a little ways along, and then it just meanders its way southwest. There may be places where you can get out, though, which the team couldn't see from the air. If you'd like, I could send a couple of men to follow it on foot for a ways."

"Don't bother," Bailey growled. "Ten to one he and this Toby character left those ropes dangling as a red herring. If they're going anywhere, they'll be heading toward Aegis Mountain, not away from it."

"Toward Aegis Mountain?" Ramirez echoed, frowning.

"Certainly not away from it," Bailey said again, silently cursing his slip. Of course Ramirez didn't know the blackcollars had found a secret back door into the base. "Is there anywhere else they might have gone?"

"Yes, sir, they could have gone to Denver," Ramirez said. "One of Shelter Valley's residents and one of the town's two cars are missing."

Bailey sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Was this resident carrying any passengers?"

"No one saw any," Ramirez said, studying Bailey's face closely. Clearly, he'd picked up on the colonel's sudden change in mood. "But there are any number of places on the road he could have stopped to pick someone up."

"And then have brought him to Denver," Bailey murmured, thinking hard. If their rogue blackcollar had gone straight into Aegis, the Ryqril were out of luck. But if he'd decided to come to town first to get the rest of the gang, there was still a chance. "Any chance of intercepting them along the way?"

Ramirez shook his head. "We've had spotters run the whole length of the road, and there's nothing's moving on it. If they started at first light, they'd be here already. Of course, we do have a description of the car."

"Which they probably buried the minute they hit town," Bailey said. "But there's only one road that'll take them back home?"

"Uh ..." Ramirez sorted through his papers. "There are actually two possible routes, one somewhat longer than the other," he said. "But that seems to be it."

"Have both of them watched," Bailey ordered. "Spotters are to tag anything headed toward that area. High-flight only—we don't want to spook them."

"Yes, sir," Ramirez said uncertainly. "We'll have to clear it through Battle Architect Daasaa first, of course."

"I'll deal with that," Bailey promised. No matter how paranoid the Ryqril might be about attacks on Athena, they would spring for as many men and spotters as he needed once he laid all this in front of them. "You just get the spotter teams organized. I'll get you the authorization."

"Yes, sir," Ramirez said again. "Is there some reason you think he'll be going back there?"

"I guarantee he will, Lieutenant," Bailey, favoring the other with a slightly malicious smile. "If the blackcollar came to Denver, he will be going back. The question is how best to turn it to our advantage."

"Yes, sir," Ramirez said, his voice gone neutral. "With your permission, I'll go organize the spotter teams."

"You do that, Lieutenant," Bailey said, getting to his feet and gathering up the papers. "You do that."

* * *

"I've got the data you asked for," Poirot's voice came over the phone. "I'm afraid it's not good news."

"Let's hear it," Skyler said, his eyes sweeping the busy Denver street scene flowing around him. Security's two options were to trace the call and try to nab him, or else let Poirot continue to lead him on in hopes of setting up a trap somewhere farther down the line. So far, he couldn't tell which way they were planning to jump.

"It looks like Athena's lasers will activate if anything larger than fifteen centimeters shows a projected path over the outer fence. That's way too small for anything useful."

"Oh, I don't know," Skyler said. "You could make a serious bomb smaller than that."

"A bomb would involve explosives and probably a fair amount of metal," Poirot pointed out. "There are other sensors along the top of the fence that would tag anything like that long before the proximity and size sensors kicked in."

"I suppose," Skyler said. "I imagine small quantities of explosives might still be able to slip through the screen, though."

"Maybe, but it couldn't be very much bigger than primer cap size," Poirot warned. "Unless you know some special trick."

Skyler smiled. Poirot was so obvious when he was trolling for information. "I know a few," he said. "What about the laser emplacements themselves?"

"What about them?" Poirot asked, his voice gone suddenly cautious as the change in topic seemed to catch him by surprise.

"Are they guarded by the same sort of sensor screen?" Skyler asked.

"They're run by the Ryqril," Poirot growled. "How do you think they're guarded?"

Skyler chuckled. "Extremely well, I'd assume," he conceded. "Relax—it was just a thought."

"I suggest you leave it that way," Poirot growled. "You've got enough trouble with the Ryqril at the moment. You take on one of their military emplacements and you'll really stir them up. Trust me, you do not want that."

"Agreed," Skyler said. "That just leaves the prisoner transfer, then. Any changes in the schedule?"

"Not so far," Poirot said, sounding relieved to be back on ground he'd presumably already cleared with his Ryqril masters. "We're still planning a seven p.m. departure for Colorado Springs: six vans, one prisoner per."

"Anything tricky about the vans themselves?"

"They've got upgraded engines and some extra armor in strategic places," Poirot said. "They've also got extra-wide sunroofs where someone can pop up, slap a maglock rapid-fire gun onto the roof, and spray the area with paral-darts, flechettes, or laser fire."

"And I presume you'll be planting trackers on each of the prisoners?"

"Actually, we may not bother," Poirot said. "You'll certainly have bug stompers along to block any transmissions anyway, won't you?"

"Definitely," Skyler said. "I guess that's it, then. Let's plan a call for two days from now, same time and place as our contact yesterday."

"You don't want to talk tomorrow?"

"I was thinking your office might be a little busy tomorrow," Skyler said dryly.

There was a short silence, and Skyler could practically hear the other's thoughts. If the blackcollars managed to pull this off, Athena's Security contingent would indeed be busy tomorrow. A number of them, in fact, might be facing summary execution. "Fine," Poirot said grimly. "Two days."

"Talk to you then," Skyler said, and hung up the phone.

He kept alert for trouble as he walked back to the car where Anne was waiting. But it was mostly habit. Clearly, the Ryqril had decided to feed the blackcollars rope in the hope that they would ensnare themselves with it.

Which meant that the prisoner transfer tonight would certainly be a trap. But then, Skyler had never expected it to be otherwise.

He reached the car and got in. "Well?" Anne asked.

"Athena's lasers will fire if a football goes over," he told her. "They'll also allegedly fire if any size explosive tries to do the same."

"So that's that?"

"Not necessarily," Skyler said. "We might still be able to do something clever."

Anne shook her head. "One of these days you're going to run out of cleverness," she warned. "I just hope you've got something else in reserve when you do."

"So do I," Skyler said with a grimace. "Let's get back and see if we can postpone that day a little."

Anne had just started the car when Skyler's tingler unexpectedly came to life. "Hold it," he said, pressing the device harder against his wrist and trying to read the dots and dashes.

"What is it?" Anne asked.

"I'm not sure," Skyler said, frowning. The message was strangely garbled, as if coming from somewhere right at the edge of the transmitter's range and critical bits were getting dropped.

Or as if the transmitting blackcollar was unable to control his fingers properly, like he'd been hit with a low-level dose of paral-dart drug. O'Hara? he signaled urgently.

Here, the other's signal came back. Trouble?

You getting any other signals?

Negative.

So it was apparently a distance thing. O'Hara was obviously in clear range, and at the moment Hawking and Kanai shouldn't be in range at all.

Which left Jensen and Flynn. "Get going," he ordered Anne.

"Security?" she asked, glancing back and pulling out into the traffic flow.

"No, I think it may actually be good news for a change," Skyler said, tapping his tingler again. Jensen?

No answer. Apparently, he'd dipped out of range again.

And if O'Hara, running backup further west, wasn't getting anything at all ... "Head east," he told Anne, repeating his tingler message.

"What is it?" Anne persisted. "Come on, Skyler, this is no time to go all secretive on me."

"No secrecy involved," Skyler assured her, smiling tightly. "We're off to find a couple of lost sheep."

* * *

"Aegis Nountain," Daasaa repeated, his dark eyes glittering. "Yae are certain o' this?"

"I'm certain that's what the prisoner said," Bailey told him. "It is, of course, possible that he was lied to. But I don't think so."

Beside Daasaa, Halaak rumbled something. Daasaa replied, and for a minute the battle architect and khassq warrior conferred. Bailey waited, mentally checking over the details of the plan he had prepared. "Re nust ca'ture the 'lackcollars ali'e," Daasaa said firmly, turning back to Bailey. "Yae rill nake sure o' that."

"I intend to," Bailey said firmly. "To that end, I have an idea I'd like permission to present to you."

Daasaa inclined his head slightly. "Re rill listen."

Bailey braced himself. "We start by accepting General Poirot's plan for sending the prisoners out of Athena by convoy. Somewhere along the way, of course, I expect the blackcollars to attack it."

"And re rill ca'ture they?"

"We'll certainly try," Bailey said. "But it's always harder to capture someone alive than it is to kill him, and it may be that we'll be forced to let the rescue succeed."

"The 'risoners rill not esca'," Halaak snarled. "Re ha' not yet disco'ered all that they know."

"But it's the blackcollars who know what we need most, Your Eminence," Bailey reminded him.

"Yae rill not—"

"Yae ha' nore tae say?" Daasaa cut him off.

Halaak hissed something, his hand dropping to the hilt of his short sword. Clearly, khassq warriors were not used to being interrupted. But Daasaa didn't even bother to look at him, much less apologize. "Yae ha' nore tae say?" he repeated to Bailey.

"Yes, Your Eminences," Bailey said carefully, trying to make it clear he was including Halaak in the conversation. Even a khassq might not be authorized to take out his frustrations on a battle architect, but there was nothing to stop him from doing so on a mere human. "My suggestion is that we add a wild card to the mix, something that Poirot knows nothing about. Namely, we keep one of the prisoners here and replace him with a loyalty-conditioned substitute from Athena."

"Rill the Kheonix leaders not recognize the 'alse run?" Halaak demanded scornfully.

"Certainly, once they get a close look at him in good light," Bailey agreed. "But I'm expecting the blackcollars, not Phoenix, to be the main rescue force. Even if there are other Phoenix leaders there, they won't have time to do a close examination, particularly if we're careful in our choice of a substitute. By the time they get him to someone who realizes he's a fake, they should have arrived at either their hideout or at least a temporary rendezvous spot, places where they may not have escape plans already set up. At that point our man will ignite a cryrex flare for the spotters to lock onto, and we'll move in and grab as many of them as we can. Between the blackcollars and the Phoenix leaders, we should end up with someone who knows the way into Aegis."

"There rill 'e 'asswords," Halaak warned.

"We already have them, Your Eminence," Bailey said. "Our interrogators are very good at their jobs."

"It is a good 'lan," Daasaa said decisively. "Yae rill 'roceed rith it."

"Thank you, Your Eminence," Bailey said, bowing his head.

"Yae rill not 'ail," the battle architect added, an edge of warning to his voice. "Ha' yae 'ound sonerun tae act as su'stitute?"

"I have, Your Eminence," Bailey said, a brief shiver running up his back. "He's a financial analyst in the hospital administration, an extremely close match to one of the young men we have in custody upstairs. A new haircut and a couple of small moles added to his cheeks and he'll be nearly perfect."

"Yae rill sho' us," Daasaa ordered, standing up.

"As you command, Your Eminence," Bailey said, getting to his feet. "I've taken the liberty of bringing him here for your examination. If you'll follow me ...?"

He led the way out of the conference room, ignoring the surreptitious stares of the techs at the monitor stations, a warm glow of satisfaction flowing through him. General Poirot they couldn't trust, and Ramirez was still a question mark.

But Bailey's own loyalty was crystal clear ... and when this scheme succeeded, he would have proved it to the Ryqril. Proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt.

* * *

Flynn finished his report, and for a long minute the room was silent. "I'm sorry," Flynn said, the words sounding wholly inadequate. "I should have tried harder to stop him."

Standing beside the door, O'Hara stirred. "You'd have gotten your face broken," he said. "Don't blame yourself, Flynn. There's nothing you could have done."

"Not with Jensen," Skyler agreed heavily. "Not once he's made up his mind."

"The question is, should we try to stop him?" the other blackcollar, Kanai, asked. "You said his ribs were only cracked?"

"That's what the doctor said," Flynn confirmed, eyeing him curiously. He'd heard about Kanai from Skyler on the flight from Plinry, but the man wasn't at all what he'd expected. Too quiet, maybe, as if he were still carrying some baggage from the war. Or maybe, given Skyler's story, the baggage was from the aftermath of the war. "And he did get some Calcron to help with the healing process."

"In that case, he'll probably make it all the way in," Skyler concluded. "Damn."

"It seems to me you're overreacting a little," an older man who'd been introduced to Flynn as Manx Reger commented from a corner armchair. "You make it sound like denying the Ryqril access means putting the whole mountain into orbit."

"You may not be far off," Kanai warned. "We know that at least the command level and entrance tunnel are heavily doomsdayed. Some of the other areas may be rigged as well."

"The previous owners were very determined to keep the base out of Ryqril hands," Hawking added.

"Sounds like Jensen is following right along that same line of reasoning," Reger said coolly.

"Yes," Flynn said with a grimace. "He also asked that we make as much noise and fury here in Denver as we can. I think he's hoping to make it look like a full-fledged military uprising."

"Lovely idea," Skyler growled. "Problem is, we're going to be pretty well tapped out in the noise and fury department after tonight. I doubt we'll have enough left to mount even a decent Chinese New Year."

"So what do we do?" Hawking asked.

"We seem to have two options," Kanai said. "We can either stay with the plan to free Anne's people, or we can go to Aegis and try to talk Jensen out of this lunatic plan."

"Actually, I'm not so sure it's so lunatic," Flynn said reluctantly. "That base they've got at the entrance is a lot bigger now than the one Caine described. They're putting forth some serious effort to get into the mountain."

"If all that's left in there are booby traps, why not let them?" Reger asked.

"Because we don't know that's all that's left," Skyler told him. "Regardless, it's not a decision Jensen should be making on his own."

"And he definitely shouldn't be going in there and pulling the plug personally," O'Hara added. "If we decide to wreck the base, there have to be ways of doing it by remote control."

"Perhaps that's what he intends," Kanai suggested.

"I don't think so," Skyler said with a sigh. "He's been ... well, never mind."

"He's gotten it into his head that he owes the universe a huge debt," Hawking said. "He's spent the last two years looking for a way to pay it off."

Across the room, Anne Silcox stirred. "Then you'd better go and try to stop him, hadn't you?" she said quietly.

"What about your people?" Skyler asked.

"What about them?" she retorted, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "You said yourself the whole convoy will be one gigantic trap."

"True, but even the best traps don't always work," O'Hara pointed out. "And frankly, with the Ryqril taking a personal hand, I'm not expecting this to be one of the best."

"Besides, Jensen's not planning his move until tomorrow night," Hawking said. "We can head up there tomorrow."

"That's cutting things a little close," Flynn warned.

"No way around it," Skyler said firmly, his tone making it clear that he'd made his decision. "As Hawking said, we've got till tomorrow to get to Jensen. Anne's people are being moved tonight. Ergo, we continue the operation as planned."

"If for no other reason than to keep them thinking we still trust Poirot?" Reger asked.

"That's another reason, yes," Skyler agreed. "What's happening with the small explosives you said you could get?"

"Draper has them ready," Reger said. "He's got the tankers you wanted, too."

"Excellent," Skyler said. "Anne, you'll rendezvous with Draper and move the explosives to Site Three. The wind's still predicted to be coming from the north this evening?"

"That's what they say," O'Hara confirmed.

"Site Three it is, then," Skyler said. "And be sure to transport the explosives in small quantities—Security might make more sensor runs over the city and I don't want a collection big enough for them to zero in on. Flynn, give her a hand—she can fill you in on the plan along the way."

"Won't we need Flynn to help with the truck hijacking?" Hawking asked.

"That's been scrubbed," Skyler said. "Turns out Reger has access to enough jellied fuel for what we need."

"Ah," Hawking said. "Then it sounds like we're ready."

"Pretty much," Skyler said. "Let's tie up the last details and get to our positions."

"And hope that Security doesn't have any trump cards of their own to play," Reger warned.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Skyler assured him with a smile. "That's what makes this so much fun."

Reger's only response was a snort.

* * *

Between the hundred-meter climb, the disorienting sonic, and Foxleigh's bad leg, the first part of the trip into Aegis Mountain was sheer torture. Fortunately, after that it got somewhat easier.

Until, that is, they reached the final part, the narrow tunnel Torch had carved through a hundred and fifty meters of solid rock to bypass the lethal traps of the first-stage air filter system. Foxleigh kept running his knees into small outcroppings of rock as he walked, sending ripples of pain through him and draining what little strength was left in his leg. Jensen, for his part, had to duck his head through much of it, a posture that wasn't doing his injured ribs any good. "At least we don't have to worry about an attack from the rear," Foxleigh muttered when as they reached the midway point. "No Ryq over the age of five would ever fit through here."

"Torch probably designed that way on purpose," Jensen said. "Of course, that just means they'd have to stand at the far end and shoot us from there."

Foxleigh looked back along the mostly straight tunnel behind them. "Oh," he said, and kept going.

The far end of the tunnel opened up into a fifty-meter-long storage room. Foxleigh hobbled inside, panting in the stale air and gazing at the dusty crates waiting patiently to be opened by people who were long dead. All of them except him.

After thirty years, he was finally back inside Aegis Mountain.

"Sorry about the mess," Jensen said. He was breathing a little heavily himself. "Maid's day off."

"I figured," Foxleigh puffed back. "What now?"

"We'll look around a little," Jensen said, wincing as he tried to rub his side through the thincast, an exercise Foxleigh knew from personal experience to be a complete waste of time. "Then we'll rest a while, maybe get something to eat."

"We could have done that at my cabin," Foxleigh pointed out. "What exactly are we here for?"

Jensen sent a gaze around the dusty chamber. "For thirty years the Ryqril have been the ones dealing out death and destruction," he said, his voice suddenly as dark and cold as Aegis itself. "It's about time we showed them that we can do that, too."

"And how much death and destruction exactly are we talking about?"

"Enough." For a moment Jensen just stood there, his eyes unfocused as if gazing across a long line of ghosts from the past. Foxleigh watched him, his heart thudding unpleasantly. For the first time, he realized, he was seeing past Jensen's layer of control and civilization to what lay beneath it. The man was ready to kill.

He was more than ready to die.

And as that realization sank in, Foxleigh became acutely aware of the pistol pressed against his side beneath his shirt. If he had to use it ...

Abruptly, Jensen shook his head, a quick doglike water-shedding movement. "Sorry," he said, his voice back to normal. "Memories."

"I have a few of those myself," Foxleigh said. "So when does this all death and destruction happen?"

"Tomorrow night," Jensen told him. "But we can start the prep work right away."

"Or at least after that rest and meal you mentioned?"

"Sure," Jensen said. "Come on, I'll take you to the medical area. The lighting's better, and there are lockers of emergency rations we can raid." He smiled, his veneer of civilization back in place. "It's a lot cleaner too."

"That's certainly the important thing," Foxleigh said, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn't feel. "Lead the way."

* * *

Shaw's blackcollars had apparently begun arriving early that morning. By the time Lathe took Judas down to their underground staging area there were a good fifty of them present, busily uncrating and organizing various pieces of equipment.

"Looks like we're getting serious," Judas commented as they passed a pair of gray-haired men uncrating a group of flat, one-by-two-meter rectangular body shields. The staging area itself, he now recognized, was another part of the city's former subway system. "I hope this doesn't mean Shaw's taken over the planning again."

"Don't worry, he hasn't," Shaw's voice came from behind them.

Judas turned, his face warming. The tactor was striding toward them, one of the body shields hanging from his left forearm. "Sorry," he apologized. "I meant—"

"Here—try it on," Shaw interrupted, sliding his arm out of the shield's straps and offering it to Judas.

It was considerably heavier than Judas had expected. "Antilaser?"

"Alternating layers of reflective and ablative material to first scatter the light and then diffuse it," Shaw said. "The reflective parts are also highly heat-conductive, so the laser has to basically evaporate the whole layer to get to the next one."

Judas nodded. "What's this?" he asked, touching a thick metal ribbon coiled tightly against the lower left edge of the shield.

"More heat-conductive material," Shaw said. "It gets unrolled behind you to act as a heat sink."

"Must be really conductive," Judas said, eyeing the ribbon dubiously.

"It's the same stuff they used to layer on starfighters to protect them against Ryqril laser cannon." Shaw looked at Lathe. "But I can tell you right now that they're not going to get you across fifty meters of open ground."

"They won't have to," Lathe said. "I understand the sensors in our target fence post are pretty well gone?"

Shaw nodded. "Got the report this morning," he said. "He'll keep plugging pellets against it for the rest of the day, though, just to make sure."

"So we're going tonight?" Judas asked carefully.

"Tomorrow night," Lathe said. "We've still got some other prep work to do tonight."

"Plus a set of dress-rehearsal drills," Shaw added.

"Sounds good," Judas said, a shiver running up his back. Barely three days on the ground, and already they were nearly ready to attack a major Ryqril base. Fast, clean, and—hopefully—successful.

Of course, it was no longer the small infiltration force Galway had envisioned when he'd set this scheme in motion. Still, as long as they made it inside maybe the size of the force wouldn't matter.

"You'll be picked up at your house at four-thirty this afternoon," Shaw said. "Be ready in full combat gear."

"I will," Judas said.

"And your pickup will be at five," Shaw added, looking at Lathe.

"We'll be ready," the comsquare assured him.

Shaw nodded and moved off. "Why the different times?" Judas asked.

"Because we're going to different locations," Lathe explained. "Mordecai and I are on the initial assault team; you'll be with interior penetration group."

"Won't the assault team be coming in, too?" Judas asked, frowning.

Lathe smiled grimly. "Some of us will," he said. "Others ... won't."

A strange sensation bubbled through the pit of Judas's stomach. Up to now, this whole thing had played through his mind almost as if it was a bizarre adventure game played on a city-sized board with living pieces. Even the carnage he'd seen in the aftermath of Security's casino trap had seemed distant and vaguely unreal.

But suddenly that unreality had evaporated. These were real men, going in against real Ryqril with extremely real weapons.

And the Ryqril would use those weapons with all the skill they possessed. Galway—and Haberdae—would make sure of that.

For many of the men assembled here, today would be their last full day alive.

"I understand," he managed. "I'll be ready."

"Good," Lathe said. "Now get over to that corner and tell Comsquare Bhat I said to start checking you out on the special equipment you'll be using."

"All right," Judas said. "What about you?"

"I need to go talk to Shaw," Lathe said. "We still have a few details to work out." He looked across the staging area at the other blackcollars, a strangely wistful look on his face. "Because win, lose, or die, tomorrow is the night."

* * *

Earlier that day, as he had every day of his captivity, Caine had run himself through an exercise regimen consisting of some of the martial arts katas he'd been taught back on Earth during his Resistance combat training. The workout, while certainly nothing spectacular, had nevertheless run up a good sweat, necessitating a shower in his transparent stall.

But unlike the previous days, when he'd finished drying off and flipped his wet towel over the edge of the stall, this time he made sure it landed in such a way as to neatly block the spy camera hidden there.

And with that, the stage was set. It would have been nice to disable the bedpost camera as well, but Security had sneaked in last night to clear and regimmick that one as he'd hoped they would, and he couldn't keep changing the paper over the lens without them eventually getting wise to the game.

Besides, with the shower camera halfway across the room from his bed, there was a chance they'd be slightly less alert when they came in tonight to clear it.

Still, whether they were or not, the die had been tossed and was now spinning its way across the floor. He had the patterns of his prison figured out, he had the method of his escape planned, and he had the tools with which to carry it out.

All he needed now was for someone to open his cell door for him.

He settled onto bed early that night, taking his manuscript book with him as if deciding to feign his reading in bed instead of feigning it in his comfort chair. The chair itself he had already subtly relocated to the spot where he needed it to be, sitting midway between him and the blocked shower camera. That alone should help allay any suspicions; a potential escapee would certainly not be careless enough to deliberately leave a large obstacle between himself and the first enemy he would have to neutralize.

By the time they shut off his lights, he was ready. Stretched out on his foam pellet-stuffed mattress beneath his thin blanket, clothed in his orange jumpsuit and boot-slippers, he slipped his hand down and began stealthily peeling sheets of paper off the top of the manuscript stacked on the floor by his head.

Win, lose, or die, tonight was the night.

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Framed