Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves (43 page)

Ostensibly they were an evaluation team checking into the progress of facility reconstruction at McMurdo Station. Almost a year ago, the station had been devastated by a fire, of Officially unknown origin. Dr. Spae's data suggested an origin—an origin that implicated the harbinger creature, since two of the bodies recovered from the wreckage of the base fit the profile of the creature's kills. Whatever had caused the lire, McMurdo had been closed down since the beginning of the last Antarctic summer. The corporate sponsors had begun rebuilding the station, but planned research was still off-line; only construction, transport, and weather crews were on site, and they were operating at skeletal levels. Holger was glad of that; the chance for collateral casualties in a place as con-lining as a cold-weather base was high. He reviewed I lagen's corporate clearances; they looked sufficient to generate plausible orders that would keep uninvolved parties clear of any danger.

The involved parties were another issue.

Holger considered the resources available to his strike team. The core was the dozen dwarven commandos, headed by Hagen. Holger had seen them go through some drills and knew that none of the dwarves were novices. If they were as steady as the dwarves he'd faced in the otherworld, they'd be good troops.

Dr. Spae and John Reddy were supposed to be the magical arm of the operation. He'd worked with Spae before and had a good idea of her measure. She was impulsive but dogged, and her skills had improved dramatically since their trip to the otherworld. According to reports the dwarves had shown him, she was capable of things he didn't care to think about. In fact, he tried not to think too hard about her at all, because it tended to rouse the voices, and he was tired of their lies about her.

Reddy was problematical. He was an elf—something Holger still had trouble accepting—and the dwarves distrusted him. Failure of confidence could destroy a mission team from within, and Holger could only hope that the dwarves would have the discipline to avoid that pitfall. He wasn't sure that he could expect the same from Reddy. He remembered the kid as a team player and steady enough in the otherworld, but Reddy had clearly seen some hard mileage sincc then. Still, when they'd been facedown in the pot, Reddy had broken Bennett's spell and saved them. That went a long way with Holger, and he hadn't yet had the chance to even thank Reddy, let alone repay the debt. Given the kid's reaction to Bear giving Caliburn to Holger, this wasn't the time to try. He hoped Reddy wasn't prone to letting jealousy and disappointment rule him.

Holger wasn't about to second-guess Bear's decision.

Logistics were much better than he could have hoped. They had good tech, which Wilson had informed him was ahead of the cutting edge, being of dwarvish work. He was willing to believe it after the demonstration they had given him. The cold suits were certainly better than anything he'd seen in ECSS service. Their weapons, from personal sidearms to the heavy gear four of the dwarves were carrying, were all of proven battlefield reliability.

He would have been happier if they'd had better control of their transportation to the site. Relying on Mitsutomo pilots bothered him a little, but so far they had shown a reassuring lack of interest in their passengers and their passengers' business; and they would be out of the picture as soon as the team was landed at McMurdo.

Additional resources, personnel or materiel, were limited at the ambush site, and the team would be working to keep the resident personnel as clear of danger as possible. It would mean no additional help, but it would also mean no witnesses and no collateral casualties. The trade-off was reasonable, especially since their brief was to stop Van Dieman quietly. Hut if quiet wasn't possible, the mission had to go ahead however necessary. They had to stop Van Dieman and his monster regardless of witnesses and casualties.

But could they do the job? They were facing an enemy of mostly unknown resources. Holger found that very uncomfortable.

They knew that Van Dieman was traveling with conventional security. Hagen's Mitsutomo analysts reported that
Van
Dieman's bodyguard consisted of an assortment of mercenaries and Metadynamics personnel—-the latter presum
ably
men who Van Dieman considered personally loyal. The bodyguard was likely under the command of a freelance operative called Benton, not Registered but listed in several unpublished databanks as an expediter with a good record of success. The spotty record that the dwarves had been able to supply suggested a man of strong physical assets and stronger covert skills. He would be a formidable opponent, hut he was the sort of opponent with whom Holger had been trained to deal. Aside from Benton, the composition and capabilities of the bodyguard were unknown, but several other freelancers previously associated with Benton had made sudden trips to New York during Van Dieman's stay, and a handful of Metadynamics personnel had taken trips to Kennedy about the same time and then disappeared. Holger reviewed their stats: muscle and security specialists all. Some of the forces that Benton had gathered had been told off to provide a cover team; it had already been encountered
by
the team of dwarves in direct pursuit. After studying the reports, he estimated a minimum cadre of three with a probable maximum of eight would be accompanying Van Dieman.

But men, however well trained and equipped, weren't Holger's greatest worry. That was reserved for the creature that Dr. Spae called a harbinger. Tactically, the monster was totally unknown, but clearly capable of killing. Just the thought of its presence made Holger want to reconsider his involvement, but he couldn't back out now. He could only hope that Spae would have the means to deal with it.

They had hours of flight to go, plenty of time for talking. He'd need that time to try to work out some of the rough spots in his team. The loan of Caliburn was the mark of Bear's trust, his faith that Holger was in control and that Holger could do what needed to be done. Holger didn't intend to fail that trust.

In a continuing misunderstanding of his role, Juarez, the leader of Van Dieman's most loyal band of followers, sought In interpose himself between Van Dieman and Benton. Van Dieman was beginning to think that the man really was too obtuse for his position—an opinion that Benton had expressed more than once during the long trek across the world. Before Benton could restate his opinion, Van Dieman ordered Juarez to let Benton approach and relate his news.

"Fischer reports a new contact with the pursuit," Benton icported. "They have accessed the transaction files of Suong Transport and the specification files on the
Briz Bane.
This is a more serious compromise of security than the San Diego encounter."

Fischer was the head of the team they had left behind to toil pursuit, and Suong Transport's
Briz Bane
was the ship that had launched the Mitsubishi-Hawker Petrel™ in which they were now traveling. The security breach Benton alluded to was a clash between Fischer's team and the pursuers, shortly after Van Dieman had departed San Diego. At the time, Benton had feared that the pursuit would be awaiting them when they reached port, but red herrings had been sufficient. Now, no doubt, Benton feared that the pursuit had picked up their trail again, at a time when red herrings and misdirection could have little value because their goal was clear. But that also meant the goal was near.

"They are too late," Van Dieman said.

The harbinger uncoiled from the depths in which it hid, as if it could sense that they were near the end of the penultimate flight. Van Dieman looked out the window of the ver-rie. The broken ice at the sea's edge was gone now. Solid ice below. Whiteness stretched to eternity, broken only by the dark smudge ahead that was McMurdo Station. No one could catch them now. The station's airstrip control had already given them clearance to land.

"Recommend direct flight to the destination, if possible," Benton said.

He'd known that McMurdo was not the ultimate destination, because of Van Dieman's insistence on acquiring a more suitable craft than the Petrel. The verrie was a good craft, and well suited to its ship-to-shore role, but not as completely adapted to the rigorous Antarctic conditions as the Omni Dynamics Snowhawks™ that served McMurdo Station. The Snowhawk was a frigid-conditions variant of the rugged Skyhawk™, a milspec utility verrie and workhorse platform for most of the Northern Alliance Defense Organization and a good many other militaries as well. A Snowhawk could make the trip into the interior in weather that would ground the Petrel. And a Snowhawk
would
make the trip, just as soon as they commandeered one.

And as soon as the harbinger ascertained just where they were going. It had communicated to Van Dieman the nature and importance of their destination, but lacking an understanding of maps, it could only give him vague impressions of the location. It asserted that it would know once they were on the ground. Sensing its assurance and eagerness, he believed it.

"We proceed as planned," Van Dieman told Benton.

Behind and above him the pitch of the engines changed. Hydraulics sighed and moaned as the craft's stubby wings began to rotate in their mounts, shifting from horizontal flight mode to vertical for the final approach to the pad below.

The harbinger's presence touched his mind. He offered
it
the use of his eyes to look down at their destination. It accepted, and he felt a sense of something akin to nostalgia as their gaze drifted over the fire-wrought devastation that marred so much of the station.

Something else stirred in the harbinger's mood. Concern.

Something was not right.

Van Dieman extended his senses, searching for the source of the unease he now shared with his companion. All appeared tranquil, calm, quiet, as it ought to be.
As it ought to be?
The harbinger thought not, and he agreed. There should have been some ground crewman awaiting them, but there was no one in sight. McMurdo Station, a facility big enough to house two thousand people at the height of summer occupancy, appeared to be deserted. No people? Though the corporate sponsors had ordered an official shutdown, that could not be so! There were crews here to work on the reconstruction. Where were
theyl
He saw no one, sensed nothing—but it was a curious nothing that hinted at something lying beneath it.

And then he knew. The
nothing
and the
no one
were wrong. The
as it ought to be
was a lie. They were landing in the jaws of a trap!

Holger watched the slowing Petrel with trepidation. Electronic communication with the verrie had been perfunctory, just the minimum. Hagen's patch into the base's net allowed them to control that communication, feeding the incoming flight an artificial rendering of the station's air traffic controller. There had been no indication that their substitution had raised their suspicion. So why was the Petrel hanging there? Why was the pilot hesitating?

"He knows we're here," John Reddy said.

How?

The Petrel started to tilt, her nose shifting to the east. She was refusing to land.

"Is he running?"

Spae answered him, "He's bypassing us. All that work for nothing."

With the verrie headed away from the prepared landing spot, the binding they had laid out to hold the harbinger would be wasted.

"You said he'd have to land here and switch craft," Kun said.

She shrugged. "Maybe he isn't intending to go as far inland as we thought. We'll have to chase him."

The Petrel had almost cleared the base perimeter. The craft was gaining altitude, presumably preparing to shift to horizontal flight mode.

"Fighting on his ground is not advisable."

"Well, we're not going to catch him here," Spae pointed out unnecessarily.

She was right; the catch option had closed. The Petrel's engines were tilting. She was gathering speed.

"Corey, Nasham, hard spill," Holger ordered through the radio link.

The two dwarves popped the tops on their concealment shelters at the eastern edge of the base perimeter. They emerged, folding out the sighting mechanisms of their Gen-dyne Hunter II™ shoulder launchers as they ran to take up firing positions. The Hunters were the same model that the dwarves had used in their attempt to take down Van Dieman's aircraft in Boston. One had nearly gotten Van Dieman and his monster then. Two should be more than sufficient. Almost in unison the rockets screamed away from the launchers, trailing billowing tails of exhaust through the chill Antarctic air.

John knew what had tipped off their enemy, because he'd felt Van Dieman pressing against his spell of illusion cloaking the ambushers. That nonphysical touch had felt slimy, somehow, but assured and competent. John was sure that the mage had seen through the spell and warned his companions about it. Kun's solution was blunt and direct: a pair of surface-to-air missiles.

John watched the contrails stretching out toward the fleeing Petrel. The fluffy white lines looked innocuous, but they were tipped with death. Those tips grew closer together, converging on the dark shape of the Petrel.

The contrails rippled, as if the missiles at their heads were flying through rough air. One went corkscrewing away, reaching for the upper atmosphere, no longer a threat to the Petrel. The other missile began to arc to the left, curving back to the spot from which it had come.