CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Well, technically, it’s not Dent’s,” I pointed out as the group continued down the steps. The two Iykams paused at the middle level to shove their prisoners into two of the middle-row seats, then stepped around behind Cole and Mottola and relieved them of their Skripkas. Tucking the weapons away in their belts, the Iykams rejoined Surn, the three of them continuing the rest of the way down to where Draelon and I were standing. One of the Iykams stepped over to McKell, took his plasmic, and rejoined Surn.
Meanwhile, Fulbright had stood up and moved off to the side, away from Cole and Mottola, the same self-satisfied smile still plastered across his face. “And it’s not going to be Director Surn,” I continued as Surn stopped in front of me. “It’ll be whatever is a step or two below sub-director. Assuming he doesn’t banish you from the leadership hierarchy entirely.”
Surn smiled thinly. “Because I don’t have an official mandate? Surely you don’t believe the Director General will be ensnared by such rigidity.”
“No, it won’t be because of any mandate protocols,” I said. “It’ll be because you’ve screwed up so often and so badly on this whole fiasco that he’ll have no choice.”
The smile vanished. “You know nothing about the Patthaaunuth.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I know a lot about screwups. Would you like a list?”
“No,” Surn said flatly.
“You really ought to hear the list,” I pressed. “How else will you know how much you need Mr. Draelon here?”
Draelon’s gaze had been fixed on the Patth. Now, he turned toward me, his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Why else do you think I asked you all to come here today?” I allowed some puzzlement into my voice. “You two each have half the solution. Unfortunately, both halves are wrapped up in a whole lot of trouble. I’m just going to show you how to put the pieces together, clear out the trouble, and make this work.”
“What the hell game are you playing at?” Draelon demanded.
“You did not invite me anywhere,” Surn added.
“Of course I did,” I said with exaggerated patience. “I invited Floyd, knowing that Floyd would tell Fulbright, knowing that Fulbright would tell you. Are we all going to stand here arguing, or shall we figure out how to get you both the immense profit that you came here for?”
Draelon and Surn eyed each other. “Fine,” Draelon said stiffly. “You already spilled open my dirty laundry to Floyd. I guess it’s our glorious sub-director’s turn.”
“I guess it is.” I turned to Surn. “I assume you were outside listening this whole time, so we don’t need to go over the deal you made with Fulbright and the scam he then turned around and played on Mr. Draelon. We’ll also skip over the mess you made trying to grab Dent on New Kyiv and your murder of the wrong man. I frankly doubt the Director General will care much about that.
“No, where you really messed up was in the Roastmeat Bar on Gremon. Like all sub-directors you’d been assigned three Iykams, so you already had some muscle to take along with you.” I was guessing on that one, but having seen the Iykam count on New Kyiv, plus my meeting with Nask a few days ago, it seemed a reasonable assumption. The fact that Surn didn’t contradict me was also a good indication. “But you knew they could never cover a facility that big by themselves. So you called the Patth freighters that happened to be in port—there were two of them; I checked—and commandeered all their Iykams.”
I cocked my head thoughtfully. “Or at least you grabbed all they were willing to give you. I know Patth pilots are supposed to have an Iykam escort when they leave their ships, so some of them might already have been unavailable. At any rate, you collected your troops, stashed a few of them near the Ruth in case we got past you, and sent the rest into the Roastmeat.
“Unfortunately, you hadn’t counted on Weston Dent handling backup for his brother.” Out of the corners of my eyes I watched for reactions. But there weren’t any. The truth about Dent’s secret weapon was apparently still intact. Hopefully, Dent would appreciate that when this was over. “When the dust settled you’d lost three Iykams. I don’t know if they were yours or the ships’, but it didn’t really matter. However many you’d borrowed, that same number had to be returned. Which now left you completely alone.”
“He still had us,” Fulbright pointed out.
And instantly winced away from the withering looks he got from Floyd, Cole, and Mottola. “I suppose unwilling and unaware allies still count as allies,” I agreed. Fulbright winced again, which was the reaction I’d been going for in the first place. The madder I could make Floyd at Fulbright, the easier it would be to get him on my side if and when I needed him. “Tell me, Sub-Director: how good a friend was Conciliator Yyng?”
“We weren’t close,” Surn said darkly. “But we shared ambitions and information. Did you kill him?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Yet you carried his picture in your wallet.”
“It was a gift,” I said.
“From whom?”
“From someone else,” I said. “Do you want to wallow in your past, or look to your future? Fine. You knew Yyng had been poking around Shiroyama Island, so after Dent, Selene, and I escaped from Gremon you had Fulbright pretend he’d had a revelation or something and sent them to Popanilla. Finding the Ruth confirmed that deduction, and you kicked the hunt up to full power. Meanwhile, you used the Patth backdoors into StarrComm and the official badgeman comm nets to see if you could narrow the search.
“And then, Dent threw you a curve ball. He contacted a fence on Fidelio and arranged to deliver some stolen gems.
“And with that, you were well and truly jammed up. You’d hoped against hope that the portal wasn’t on the island, or that it might have failed, or that Dent might not really know how to use it. All of that was now down the tubes. He was heading for Fidelio, you couldn’t get there in time, there were no Patth freighters there you might bully out of their Iykams, and without a mandate on either Dent or the portal you had zero authority to call any Patth operations centers for reinforcements. And so, in desperation, you launched yourself straight into your major screwup: You contacted the crime boss Francisc Pacadacz and hired him to get a team to Fidelio and hunt down Dent for you.”
I paused, doing another quick assessment. Draelon looked interested in a sort of malevolent way, probably the way he looked at every negotiation where the other side was starting in a pre-dug hole. Floyd was back to his stone face, taking it all in but keeping his thoughts to himself. McKell was doing similarly, though with his altered face I wasn’t sure I’d be able to read his emotions even if he was showing them.
And Surn was gazing at me with a look that was equal parts quiet fury and quiet desperation. He knew what he’d done, but hadn’t realized until now that anyone else had put all the pieces together. He was in serious trouble, and he knew it.
“Which about wraps things up,” I continued. “I see from your entourage that you’ve been commandeering from Patth ships again, which will be one more strike against you when the Director General gets wind of it. Anyway. Now that you both know how deep in the muck you are, are you ready to talk deal?”
Surn looked at Draelon, then back at me. “You speak well, Roarke,” the Patth said. “But your words are useless. You have no proof, and the Director General will never accept your word above mine.”
“What about all these witnesses?” I asked, waving a hand around the room.
“Are they Patthaaunuth?” he countered. “If not, the number does not matter.”
“But if they were Patth?” I asked.
“That question is meaningless.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Mr. Draelon, you wondered earlier about the questions I asked Selene. Question one was whether Sub-Director Surn was the Patth who we knew had visited Fulbright’s ship on New Kyiv. Question two—well, we’ll get back to that. But question three was the big one. That question was whether our last guest had arrived. And the answer to that was also yes.”
I filled my lungs. “I believe the tale has been sufficiently told,” I called. “If you agree, we would be honored if you would join us.”
And from behind the cloth covering the scaffold a familiar figure stepped into view. “Yes,” Sub-Director Nask said quietly. “The tale has indeed been told.”
* * *
For a fistful of heartbeats no one moved. No one talked. I couldn’t even swear that anyone breathed. The two Patth stared at each other, the air between them all but crackling with energy and a subtle struggle for dominance. Three Iykams came out from behind the cloth and took up defensive positions behind Nask and to his sides.
And with that, the spell was suddenly broken. Surn’s eyes flicked to the twelve Iykams in his own array; and when he turned back to Nask I could see a small smile on his face. “Greetings, Sub-Director Nask,” he said calmly. “Do you now collaborate openly with humans?”
“I cooperate with all in the seeking of truth,” Nask said in a matching tone. “Do you then dishonor the Patthaaunuth with broken protocols and needless killing?”
Surn made a rude-sounding noise. “Your narrow vision of protocol is of no consequence. And my conversation is not with you.”
Deliberately, he turned to me. “You say Draelon and I can together bring success to this day,” he said. “Explain.”
“Certainly,” I said, avoiding Nask’s eyes. “You, Sub-Director, cannot bring the portal to the attention of the Director General without running afoul of Patth mandate protocols. Mr. Draelon, on the other hand, is under threat of Patth economic reprisals for Mr. Varsi’s actions. I therefore propose that Mr. Draelon be the one to find the portal, and that he then contact you in order to offer it to the Director General, and that part of his price is to withdraw the Patth demand for restitution from his organization. You won’t have violated the mandate protocols, he’ll get out from under the Expediters’ threat, and the Patth will finally have a portal to call their own.”
“Yet you are human,” Surn said suspiciously. “Why would you offer this to us?”
“For a great deal of money, of course,” I said. “Plus, to be honest, I think you’re going to be disappointed. This portal is different from all the others we’ve found up to now. It’s a dyad: two portals that are linked together and don’t go anywhere but back and forth between them. We call that version a Gemini.”
“That seems . . . unuseful,” Surn said, throwing a hooded look at Nask. Nask, for his part, just stood there silently.
“It does, doesn’t it?” I agreed, putting some regret into my voice. “But you could at least set up one corridor for yourselves.”
“Such a portal would also be useful for study purposes,” Nask added quietly.
“Yes—study purposes,” I agreed, jumping on the comment. “And I only want thirty percent of the final purchase price.”
“You said twenty percent back on Brandywine,” Draelon growled.
“That was to find Dent,” I reminded him. “This is to deliver you a set of Gemini portals.”
Another silence, a thoughtful one this time, descended on the room. I risked a glance at Selene, sitting quietly and continuing to sample the air, then one at McKell, who was just sitting quietly. I’d expected him to be looking at me, but instead his eyes were going back and forth between Surn and Draelon. He still had no idea what was going on, but he seemed willing to let me carry this to whatever end I had in mind.
“What about us?” Floyd asked into the silence.
Both Draelon and Surn turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Draelon asked.
“You killed Mr. Varsi,” Floyd said, his voice sending a shiver up my back. “You sent Cole and Mottola and me—”
“I already said Varsi died of natural causes.”
“—Cole and Mottola and me to kill Mr. Gaheen,” Floyd continued stolidly. “Or maybe for him to kill us, or maybe all of us to kill each other. Trying to get rid of those who were most loyal to Mr. Varsi.”
“If you wish these three dead, that can be part of the purchase price,” Surn offered.
“Yeah, I appreciate that,” Draelon said. Stooping down, he picked up the Skripka that Floyd had taken from him. “But I can handle that myself.”
“Whoa,” I said quickly, holding up a hand. “No, no, no. No shooting in here. Not with Selene and me in the room. You want to kill them, do it somewhere else and after we’ve got our money and some alibis. I’m not going to get hauled in by badgemen looking for someone to charge with multiple murders.”
“Fine,” Draelon said, an edge of contempt in his voice. For him, apparently, murder charges were no big deal. “You want this, Surn?”
“I believe it will work for both of us,” Surn said. “Yes, I accept the terms. If Roarke is telling the truth about the portals.”
“I’m just waiting on you two before I bring out the goods,” I said. “And on my advance.”
“You said thirty percent,” Draelon said, his eyes narrowing.
“And I want an advance against that,” I said. “As my father used to say, Five percent cash is better than fifty percent promise. It’s not like I can take you to claims court if you renege. Come on, come on—cash or certified bank checks; I’m not picky.”
Draelon sent me a look that could have blistered paint, but he pulled out his wallet and extracted three ten-thousand-commark bank checks. I raised my eyebrows questioningly at Surn, who grudgingly handed me two more. “Excellent,” I said, putting them away. They really didn’t have to be so grumpy about it, I reflected, given that they almost certainly planned to kill Selene and me as soon as they had the portals anyway.
Along with Floyd, Cole, Mottola, maybe McKell, and probably Nask. At this point Fulbright was a toss-up, but I wouldn’t have bet pocket change on his surviving the day, either. “If you’ll follow Selene and me?” I invited. “It’ll only be a short walk.”
Selene stood up and walked over to join me, and together we started up the steps. “Wait a minute,” Draelon called after us, sounding confused. “The thing is here? On the Erymant grounds?”
“The Erymant Temple is ancient; the portals are ancient,” I pointed out. “It really should have been an easy connection. If you want to send someone to go fetch the group at the vans, we can wait.” I nodded toward McKell. “Though I’m thinking that Niles is probably the only one you can trust at this point.”
“No need,” Surn said before Draelon could answer. “My Iykams will provide sufficient security.”
“Yeah,” Draelon said slowly, his gaze sweeping around to take in the silent aliens, suddenly realizing how completely outgunned he was right now. I held my breath . . .
“We cannot do this deal without both of us,” Surn reminded him. “There is no danger of betrayal.”
“Further betrayal, anyway,” I said under my breath.
If Draelon heard me, he didn’t show it. “Fine,” he said. He hunched his shoulders once, then gave a brisk nod. “Fine. Okay, Roarke. And remember that we only need one of you to show the way. Try anything cute and your partner dies.”
“I’m not likely to forget,” I said, starting to breathe again. “Can we go now? As my father used to say, Time is money you can’t make change for.”
* * *
We would have made a bemusing procession as we made our way across the temple grounds, had there been anyone out there to see it. Selene and I walked up front, with Draelon and Surn close behind: Draelon with his two apparently still trustworthy bodyguards, Surn with two of his borrowed Iykams in close attendance. The rest of Surn’s Iykams followed a few paces behind us, guarding McKell, Floyd, Cole, Nask, and Nask’s three Iykams. Between the two groups, looking rather like an afterthought, was Fulbright.
“All right,” I said as we came up to the Pollux hatch. “Now, there’s limited space in there—”
“Just open it,” Draelon growled.
“All right.” I turned back to the smooth surface and keyed the hatch. A quiet murmur went through the assembled group as the hatch swung inward and melted into the hull on that side. “The entrance is a little tricky, too—there’s an artificial gravity inside that points outward from the center. Watch Selene and me, and do as we do.”
“We’ll watch you,” Draelon corrected, taking Selene’s arm and pulling her to his side. “She stays out here until we have a few more guns inside.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really, there’s no one in here to be afraid of. But fine. Watch me.”
I got a grip on the edges of the hatchway, swung my legs up, and rolled inside. I gave my inner ear a couple of seconds to acclimate, then stuck my head out the hatchway. “See? Okay—next?”
I’d expected a couple of the Iykams to be next. But Surn had clearly been obsessing over this thing too long let someone else get in front of him.
Still, as my father used to say, Enthusiasm is no substitute for knowing what you’re doing. He failed to make it far enough inside on his first attempt and dropped back, only a firm grip on the edge keeping him from ending up flat on the ground. He muttered something in the Patth language and resettled his hands on the edges.
And as he braced himself for his next try, I looked casually around the receiver module.
Dent was there, of course, lying on his camping mattress, his expression tense. His supply pantry door was open, showing that there was nothing inside but sealed food and water packages. The hammock Dent had slept in before his run-in with Pacadacz’s thugs was back on Popanilla, eliminating any suspicions that the mesh or the stand could be used as a weapon. Through the interface into the launch module I could see the glow of the status lights.
And a quarter of the way around the receiver module was the safe from Popanilla, its door closed and its back sealed, just the way I’d asked for it to be delivered.
There was a grunt and a sort of thud, and I turned back to see Surn picking himself up off the deck. He again murmured something under his breath as he looked around.
“I didn’t catch that,” I said.
“I was remarking on the unassuming splendor of this device,” he said.
“We like it,” I said. “I assume you’re also going to want a demonstration.”
“Yes,” he said. He walked a few experimental steps, watching first the hull curving up in front of him, then focusing on his feet. He stopped, and his eyes flicked around the module again, pausing briefly on Dent and somewhat longer on the safe. “Conciliator Yyng’s reports spoke of a Brink-Chakra safe,” he said.
“That’s the one,” I confirmed, nodding toward it. “All of Dr. Riley’s notes are in there.”
“I presume they’re part of the deal?”
“Or can be negotiated separately,” I offered.
“Like hell,” Draelon growled.
I looked back to see him rolling his way into the module. He made it on the first try, though to be fair he’d gotten to see both Surn and me do it first. “It’s part of the deal, period.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Just thinking out loud.”
“Don’t think,” he said, standing up and looking around. “It’s not healthy for you. So you’re Dent?”
“Yes,” Dent said. His face was still pale, but his voice was calm enough.
“Nice to finally meet you,” Draelon said. “Where’s your brother?”
Dent’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Draelon. “He’ll be here if and when I need him. He always is.”
“Sure he is,” Draelon said, craning his neck to look above us. “I wonder how ricochets work in here. I’ll bet you can do some fancy bank shots, too.”
“I’m not going to make trouble,” Dent said. Again, he looked at me. “Roarke says this is the only way to end it.”
“Sometimes Roarke knows what he’s talking about,” Draelon said, turning back to watch the Iykams and then Nask roll into the module. The Iykams were pretty good, as were Floyd and his friends. Selene was as good as they were, and a lot more graceful.
McKell and Nask, not surprisingly, were better even than I was.
A few minutes later we were all together again: Draelon and his two guards, Surn and his twelve Iykams, Nask and his three, Selene, Floyd, Cole, Mottola, Fulbright, McKell, Dent, and me. Even if Floyd and some of the others could be persuaded to remain neutral, I reflected, we were still facing rotten odds. I’d thought Surn might leave a couple of his guards outside on sentry duty, but he was clearly expecting a last-minute surprise and wanted his whole borrowed army there in case they had to shoot back. At me, if I had something up my sleeve, or at Weston Dent, should he make a sudden appearance.
It was almost a shame that Selene, Dent, and I were the only ones who could appreciate the irony of that thought.
“All right,” I said briskly. “Now that we’re all here, we’ll head into the launch module. That’s the opening over there, and I’ll warn you that the transition is even trickier than the one you just did. The portal can transport up to eight people at a time, so for twenty-seven of us—Dent’s still too injured to move—that adds up to three full loads plus a partial. Who’s going first?”
“I am,” Surn said. “You will of course accompany me.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I assured him. “Mr. Draelon?”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” he said, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Surn. Despite Surn’s assurances—not to mention the basic logic of the situation—the lopsided balance of firepower was still clearly bothering him. “Turlow and Perf will go, too.”
“There is no need to take your bodyguards,” Surn said. “They would be put to better use watching Dent.”
“Since when do we need Dent anymore?” Draelon retorted. “You know what’s waiting at the other end of this transport thing?”
Surn looked at me. “No.”
“Exactly,” Draelon growled. “Neither do I. Turlow and Perf are going.”
“You make an excellent point,” Surn said. He didn’t look worried, exactly, but suddenly he was looking at an imbalance of power going the other direction. He looked around, pointed to three of his Iykams. “You three, with me.”
“Maybe Sub-Director Nask would like to go, too,” I suggested. “We could leave one of the Iykams behind to make room.”
Draelon snorted. “Forget it.”
“Agreed,” Surn said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Why do you make such a suggestion?”
“I just thought it would be a nice gesture,” I said with a shrug. “He held the portal mandate for a long time. Just seems fair.”
“Fair for me to share the glory with him?” Surn said contemptuously. “You truly do not understand the Patthaaunuth.”
“I guess I don’t,” I said. “Anyway. Sub-Director Nask—everyone else—make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes for the next group.”
Once again, my long practice with portal transitions stood me in good stead, allowing me to roll into the launch module with precision and a certain degree of grace. Once again, everyone else had a rougher time of it, with frustration and embarrassment the order of the day. But finally all seven of them were inside and grouped around me.
“That spike thing is the trigger,” I said, leading the way around the curved surface toward the extension arm. “We all hold onto it, the gravity field around it shifts and takes us up to the center of the sphere, and in about three seconds we’ll be in Castor.”
“Where are the destination settings?” Surn asked, looking around.
“There aren’t any,” I told him. “Like I said before, this is a Gemini. It only links to one other portal, and vice versa. Come on, come on, let’s get this over with.”
I got a grip on the extension arm with my left hand. “You can hold it loosely or tightly,” I said as the others gathered around the arm and tentatively took hold of it. One of the Iykams moved in behind me; Draelon elbowed him aside and shoved himself between us, pressing his chest against my back as the others maneuvered for position. “It’s not pulling you up—the grav field does that—so you don’t have to worry about falling,” I went on, wondering what Draelon was up to. “Just hold it loosely and enjoy the ride.”
“Sure,” Draelon said softly, his breath tickling my left ear. He let go of the arm and shifted his left hand so that it was resting on top of mine, his first two fingers curved around the extension arm itself, the last two fingers and his thumb wrapped around and pressing against my fingers and thumb. “Just in case you thought about cutting out early.”
“Right, because there are so many places to go from here,” I muttered back. “But fine. Whatever.” The last Iykam got his hand on the arm, and with the shift in gravity that I’d become far too familiar with, we all started drifting upward.
And as we rose toward the center of the module, I reached up across my chest to my left elbow, and pressed my thumb and fingers into the quick-release points hidden under the skin, squeezing and twisting to free the artificial limb. I held onto the now detached forearm with my right hand, holding it in position as I watched our progress upward. With a single second left before the portal activated, I pulled my upper arm out of my now flopping sleeve and shoved against the extension arm, pushing myself away. Draelon’s eyes and mouth had just enough time to open wide—
And then they were gone, all seven of them, with Draelon presumably still holding onto my arm. The launch module’s gravity shifted back to normal, and I dropped gently back toward the deck. In my mind’s eye I could imagine the explosion of consternation and anger as the travelers realized what had happened and tried to prepare themselves for whatever was about to come at them.
I smiled tightly. Little did they know.
I landed on the deck and hurriedly returned to the interface. A quick glance showed that the remaining Iykams had spread out a bit, their corona guns held loosely in their hands, their full attention on their prisoners. I dropped flat beside the opening and rolled over into the receiver module. “As you were, everyone,” I called.
It was like a magic trick, possibly the best one any of them had ever seen. Every head snapped around at the sound of my voice, every eye goggling at my completely unanticipated appearance.
And with every eye on me, no one noticed Dent’s fingers moving subtly with their own magic. No one saw the safe door pop open in response to his signal.
But everyone saw the explosive flurry of sugarbirds as they boiled out through the open safe door and fluttered off madly in all directions.
“Don’t shoot!” I shouted. “They’re harmless.”
The assurance came too late for two of the Iykams. Their corona guns were already up and tracking, and for a second the module crackled with the familiar sizzle and acrid blue-white electrical discharge. Fortunately for the sugarbirds, they were lousy targets, twirling and flapping and jinking back and forth, and neither of the Iykams’ shots connected.
“What the hell is this?” Fulbright demanded, staring open-mouthed at the frenetic midair ballet taking place above him.
“They’re birds,” I told him. “Sugarbirds, to be exact. Really, they’re completely harmless.”
“Where is Sub-Director Surn?” Nask demanded.
“He’s fine,” I assured him. “He and the others are in the Castor receiver module, exactly as I said. Probably thinking and saying furious things about me.”
“What then is this?” Nask persisted, pointing at the birds.
“Ah. Yes. That,” I said. “See, I thought you and I needed a little time alone, and this seemed the most convenient way to do it.”
I looked up at the birds. They were still trying to get higher from the ground, no doubt so that they could find the trees and forest scenery they were used to.
Unfortunately, the minute each crossed the center point, the definition of “down” suddenly reversed, sparking a mad course reversal. With twenty or more of them doing the same thing, their usual graceful dance had degenerated into a bewildering free-for-all.
“I see,” Nask said, sounding a little calmer. “Yes. The center of the receiver module must be clear for the launch module to transport anyone there. With the birds keeping the center occupied, Sub-Director Surn and the others cannot return.”
“But they can still get out through one of the Castor receiver module’s hatches,” McKell pointed out.
“Not anymore,” I said. “See, I have a friend there who has—who had—a nice piece of blast ribbon with him. Yes, your blast ribbon,” I added as sudden understanding flickered across Floyd’s face. “We found it under the door of Mr. Gaheen’s home on Huihuang and thought it might come in handy down the line. Anyway, between the friend and the blast ribbon Castor has been completely buried, the entire surface of the receiver module covered. That means the only way out is via Pollux. Which, as you pointed out, isn’t happening.”
“You will release Sub-Director Surn at once,” one of the Iykams grated, leveling his corona gun at me.
“Certainly,” I soothed him. “But before I do, I need a word with Sub-Director Nask. You recall, Sub-Director, that a few days ago I told you I would help you solve your mandate?”
“I do,” Nask said.
“Back in the lecture hall, you’ll remember that I asked Selene three questions. The first was about the unknown Patth in Fulbright’s ship. She said yes, which told me Sub-Director Surn was indeed Fulbright’s contact and silent boss. The third question was whether you were in the room. Again, she said yes.”
“And the second question?”
“The second question,” I said quietly, “was whether the Patth in Draelon’s manufacturing facility outside West Pontus on Brandywine was here.”
Nask’s expression seemed to tighten. “She said no.”
“She said no,” I confirmed. “The Patth who was there wasn’t Surn, and it wasn’t you.” I braced myself. “I believe, Sub-Director Nask, that you were mandated to find a kidnapped Patth pilot. I believe we’ve found him.”
For a long moment Nask was silent. He looked at Selene, at McKell, back at me. “How did you know?” he asked at last.
“I didn’t,” I conceded. “But Varsi had also been playing games with Patth pilot equipment, and either he told Draelon about it or Draelon was listening in when the Expediter came to call. However it worked, Draelon apparently thought getting access to Talariac Drive ships could come in handy, and so he decided to finish what Varsi started.”
“Or else Varsi handed the operation off to him,” Floyd said.
“Or didn’t have a choice,” Cole added grimly. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe Varsi died of natural causes. Or maybe Draelon just got greedy and didn’t want to share.”
I winced. Varsi. Draelon. No longer Mr. Varsi and Mr. Draelon.
As my father used to say, Losing an ally’s loyalty is like losing a live grenade under your chair.
“So what now?” McKell said.
“I assume Sub-Director Nask has ways of getting a team to Brandywine,” I said. I looked at the Iykams. “Can I also assume that when Iykams are commandeered by someone and then abandoned, that another Patth of equal rank can eventually assume command of them?”
“Yes,” Nask said. “That period being six hours.”
“Ah,” I said. “I was hoping it would be shorter. I wish now that I’d brought a deck of cards.”
One of the Iykams growled something in the Patth language. Nask answered, and the Iykam said something else.
And then, to my amazement he stepped up to Nask and handed him his corona gun.
“Sub-Director?” I asked carefully.
“He waives the transfer period,” Nask said, his eyes still on the Iykam. “He gives me full authority.”
I nodded. Of course he did. He knew now how badly Surn had messed up, and how some of the blowback might come against him and the others Surn had commandeered.
But more importantly, I suspected, was that a Patth pilot was in danger . . . and the Iykams’ chief service to the Patth was the protection of those valuable and vulnerable people.
“So?” I prompted.
Nask hesitated, his eyes tracing the smooth walls of the Pollux receiver module. He had all the Iykams, he had all the guns, and there was nothing that stood in the way of his taking the portals. Nothing except his mandate, and the protocols of his people.
And the life of a single kidnapped Patth pilot.
Nask stirred, speaking again in his own language. “We travel to the StarrComm center,” he translated as the Iykams hurried toward the receiver module exit. He held my gaze a moment, then briefly inclined his head to me. “There is a Patthaaunuth pilot on Brandywine who needs our assistance.”