The Fortress in Orion (28 page)

“And what
is
this work to be?” asked another.

Pretorius rubbed his hand briefly across his jaw and mouth, whispered, “Secret!” as he was removing it, and looked at his questioner.

“There may come a day when I will confide in each of you, and of course General Michkag can tell you anything he likes whenever he wishes to, but right at this moment I am a covert operative for the Coalition, and I trust no one but my partner”—he indicated Circe—“and Michkag.”

“We know about Pretorius,” said yet another officer, “though of course we don't know if we can trust him or indeed any Man, but at least he has what I shall call credentials.” He stared at Circe. “What are yours?”

“Don't answer that!” snapped Michkag, and all eyes turned to him. “Once she has done her job, you will all know where her talents lay. In the meantime, I agree with Colonel Pretorius that we will keep our mission secret for the present except from those few officers who must participate in it.”

Damn!
thought Pretorius.
You're not bad at this!

“All I can do now is tell the rest of you,” continued Michkag, “that before two years have passed, each and every one of you will remember this night and be pleased that these two have come over to our side.”

“But for fame and money, not principle?” said one of them dubiously.

“You are free to worry about motives,” said Michkag with a touch of contempt and more than a little arrogance. “As for me, my position in the Coalition is such that I care only about results.”

The officer began backtracking and apologizing.

“Enough!” snapped Michkag after another minute. He turned to Pretorius and Circe. “You two will go into the next room while I discuss this further with my officers. They must feel free to speak their minds.”

They got up, walked into the bedroom, and waited for the door to slide shut behind them.

“Well?” asked Pretorius.

“Some of them doubt your motives,” she said. “But none of them doubt Michkag's identity.”

“That's all that counts,” said Pretorius. “We're out of here in another day. He's here for the duration.”

They sat in silence for another ten minutes. Then Circe tensed.

“What is it?”

“I don't know what he said,” she replied, “but he's losing one of them.”

“Can you tell which one?”

“Not without being in the room with him.”

“Damn.” He flicked his transmitter on with his tongue. “I don't know what you just said, but Circe tells me that they all believed you up to then, but you're losing one of them. If you can fix it, do so. If not, call us back in so we can at least identify him.”

They spent another five minutes in the room. Circe shook her head at the end of it.

“You still haven't won him over,” whispered Pretorius. “Bring us back, let Circe identify him, and let
him
take us to the tower. I'll have a reception committee waiting for him.”

The door slid open after another minute, and Pretorius and Circe walked back into Zab 42.

“This meeting is now officially over. Pretorius and Circe, welcome to the Coalition.”

“Third from the right,” whispered Circe.

Pretorius whispered the information to Michkag.

“Zbagnorg,” said Michkag, facing the Kabori in question. “Take our two new allies to the storage room high up in the East Tower. They will be shipping out incognito on a supply ship in the morning.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” asked Zbagnorg.

“Tell him that he can come along to keep an eye on us,” whispered Pretorius.

“I have a feeling that I have not quelled all your doubts about this mission,” said Michkag. “Here is what I shall do. I relieve you forthwith of all other duties. From this day forward, you shall be their bodyguard, with the added duty of being their executioner if they behave in any manner that is not in keeping with their mission.”

“I accept,” said Zbagnorg, snapping a salute. “But of course, I do not know exactly what their mission is.”

Michkag frowned. “You here are my most trusted officers, and I have no doubt as to your total loyalty. But should you fall into enemy hands, they have very efficient methods of extracting information, so I choose not to relate the details here.” He paused thoughtfully. “I'll tell you what: you go up to the tower with them now, and wait there for me. I'll come up later, or at least before the supply ship leaves, and give you all the details. Does that meet your approval?”

“Yes, it does.”

Michkag turned to Pretorius. “And you?”

“Who are we to dispute our commander's orders on our very first assignment?” answered Pretorius. “We will simply have to convince Zbagnorg through our ongoing efforts that we are exactly what we present ourselves to be.”

“Then it is settled,” said Michkag. “I want all six of you to accompany our new friends to the lift, to avoid any scenes with those who do not know they have become our allies. Only Zbagnorg need ascend to the tower with them, but your presence until then will avoid any awkwardness.”

The door slid open, and Pretorius and Circe, escorted by six high-ranking Kabori officers, walked the length of the corridor, amid curious and hostile stares. Then, at the airlift, the other five waited until the two Men and Zbagnorg were slowly being lifted on a cushion of air, then went about their duties.

Pretorius coughed, covered his mouth, and whispered “Change of plans. Get Felix.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, stepped off at the proper level, and approached the door.

“I shall be watching you every second,” said Zbagnorg to Pretorius. “I don't know how you fooled Michkag, but you are not fooling
me
. Sooner or later you will blunder, or
he
will blunder, and I will be there.”

They reached the door, and as it slid open, Pretorius took a quick step backward and shoved Zbagnorg into Ortega's waiting prosthetic arms. The big man squeezed; they heard a loud
snap!
and four lesser ones as the door slid shut, and he let the Kabori fall to the floor.

“Dead?” asked Pretorius.

Ortega leaned over the body, then looked up. “He's still breathing,” answered Ortega. “I wouldn't bet on his ever walking again, though.”

Pretorius took out his screecher, turned it full force on Zbagnorg's head, and fired it.

“Well, he's dead
now
,” said Ortega, “and that's for damned sure!”

“I suppose you want us to chop this one up too?” asked Snake with a grimace.

“Not necessary,” replied Pretorius. “They know he'll be on the
Moonbeam
, so all we have to do is find some way to jettison him when we're a parsec or more away from here.”

“So you really pulled it off?” said Djibmet.

“So far so good . . .”

“Then you're ready to go?”

“I've been thinking about it,” said Pretorius. “And we're
all
ready to go. Including you.”

“Me?” said Djibmet.

Pretorius nodded his head. “You.”

“But . . . but he
needs
me!” protested the Kabori.

“He's had you since the day he was born,” answered Pretorius, “and he's now in command not only of the fortress but of the whole damned Coalition. What does he need you for now?”

“There are little things, nuances and subtleties . . .”

“Djibmet, we've got the visual record here. There are between thirty and forty Kabori who saw you walking around here. You asked for the whereabouts of an officer who doesn't exist. Now, if you leave with us, that'll almost certainly all be forgotten, and if not, you were simply a spy who got away. But if you stay here under Michkag's protection, sooner or later someone will remember—and that could cast doubts on Michkag's judgment and maybe even his authenticity. Also, he's lived with these officers for years. They know you're not a fellow officer, they know you're not a close friend, they know he has no reason to offer you either a commission or his protection. Don't you think he's taking enough chances as it is?”

Djibmet was silent for a long moment, then looked up, his face a mark of pain and guilt. “I was being selfish and thoughtless,” he said softly. “You are right, of course. I will leave with you.”

“I'll let Michkag know,” said Pretorius. “It'll give him one less thing to worry about.”

There was another silence, broken by Proto. “Well, that's that!” he said.

“Yeah,” said Pretorius. “Now we just have to get back through maybe a thousand enemy star systems without alerting any of them, and with no Michkag clone to intercede for us if push comes to shove.”

“Damn,” said Proto.

“What's the problem?”

“I don't even have a stomach—not the way Men and Kabori do—and suddenly you've made it start hurting.”

32

Pretorius couldn't see any sense waiting in the tower, so he moved his crew and Michkag into the ship. Since it was all but empty, each of them took a large section for his or her own quarters. They designated one central area as a meeting room and promptly found themselves spending most of their time there. Pandora had no problem controlling and instructing the robots, and they made themselves reasonably comfortable for the next twenty hours, until the
Moonbeam
took off.

“Its itinerary seems simple enough,” announced Pretorius. “It picks up a small amount of cargo on Althion II and Degma IV, and terminates on Vorrelb V.”

“Speaking of cargo,” said Circe, “what about our own?”

“I've got enough stuff to keep him sleeping for most of the trip, and tranquil for the rest of it,” answered Pretorius. “We'll tube-feed him until he's awake enough to feed himself, which if things go as planned won't be until we're back in the Democracy on the final leg of our trip.”

“Okay,” said Ortega. “Getting back to the spaceports . . .”

“They're all within the Coalition's boundaries, of course,” answered Pretorius, “so we're going to have hunt up a ship that can take us the rest of the way on one of those three worlds. Another cargo ship is out of the question. We might find one that goes over the border to No Man's Land, but we'll never get a Coalition ship that's going all the way to the Democracy.”

“So we steal a ship?” said Snake with a smile. “I
like
it.”

Pretorius merely stared at her.

“What?” she said at last.

“I know it's not to your taste,” he said, “but I kind of thought we'd buy one with all that cash we got for the pelts on the way in.”

“Damn!” she said. “I forgot all about that.”

“Anyway, we don't want to do it at Vorrelb V, which figures to have the biggest spaceport.”

“They'll have the most ships,” said Ortega.

“Unquestionably,” agreed Pretorius. “But they'll also have the most security, and along with Djibmet, who'd prefer not to have his face or voiceprint on any records, we'll be five Men and an alien I'll wager even their scanners have never seen before.”

“I'm going to have to make the purchase,” said Djibmet. “I'm the only Kabori here, and we're still in Coalition territory.”

“Yeah, you're elected,” answered Pretorius. “Anyway, we don't touch down on Althion II for three days, so just relax and try to catch up on your sleep.” He walked over to where Pandora sat. “All except you. I need to see the layouts of the three spaceports.”

“I anticipated as much,” she said, bringing up a holograph of each in turn.

“Degma IV's so little I'm surprised it can accommodate the
Moonbeam
,” he noted.

She smiled. “I knew you'd like it.”

“Something that small can't just be hosting the occasional oversized supply ship.”

“It's not,” said Pandora. “It handles half the stellar traffic that comes to or leaves the planet.”

“Just tell me we're going to be on the ground during the night.”

“We land in the middle of the night and take off about two hours after sunrise.”

“Perfect,” said Pretorius.

“Good. Because you're not going to like the other two at all.

Althion II's in orbit between two stars, so it's never dark. And the Vorrelb V one is a major-league spaceport with major-league security.”

“One's all we need,” said Pretorius. He got up, walked back to his own private area, lay down, and was gently snoring a minute later. The landing and takeoff from Althion II was fast and efficient. Pretorius decided they were far enough from the fortress to jettison Zbagnorg's body and sent it spinning off into space.

Four days later they were cleared to land on Degma IV.

“Okay,” said Pretorius, handing a stack of currency to Djibmet. “You don't want publicity, you might even be on the run from the law. It's strictly a cash-and-carry sale. You don't have to test it out, but you want to be sure it flew in on its own power, that it hasn't been sitting there for months waiting for some sucker to buy it. And make sure it's got room for five Men, you, Proto, and our sleeping passenger.”

“And once the sale is made, what next?” asked the Kabori.

“Hopefully Pandora will have their surface scanner temporarily disabled by then. You have some friends, and you don't want the law to know they're with you. They might be smuggling something valuable in that box. Of course they're reluctant to even walk across the spaceport where they might be seen, so you want a transport vehicle, one with glass darkened and shades drawn, to pick us up and take us to the ship. And the only way the deal goes down is if you drive the vehicle yourself.”

“They'll never go for it,” protested Djibmet.

“Hey, Felix,” said Pretorius, “what is one of those little spaceport transport vehicles worth?”