"Ah, Captain D'Esprit and Or. Takagawa, "the latter said. "Greetings. You will forgive me if I don't get up. The suspension process can be rather draining."

  Immediately, Coeur was struck by two peculiarities. For one thing, Kilalt was far younger than the elderly St. Kilalt pictured in devotional paintings in Soledad, though his rugged, square jaw and gray-speckled blue eyes were very much the same. Further, he wore a costume very much like that of Vazquez, with a broad hood thrown back across the shoulders, though the addition of a close-fitting communications cap—perhaps to let him communicate with his robots—did suggest his origin in an earlier time.

  What was even stranger—at least to Coeur— was that Kilalt knew both her own and Physic's real names, though they had not been offered to anyone in the complex.

  "You'll forgive my curiosity, "Coeur said, "but you look younger than I expected."

  Kilalt chuckled, "I'm not surprised. Saints are almost always painted old, to enhance their wisdom."

  "You'll also forgive my curiosity at your knowing our names."

  "Ah, now that I can help you with. My friend here, Graylord, has had a great deal of contact with Soledad through the years, while I was asleep. Apparently, the present cardinal of the CCL knows most of your friends' names and supplied them to me, together with your images. "'

  "Vazquez, "Physic said.

  Yes, Coeur thought, Vazquez.

  However, she resisted the urge to give in to her sense of betrayal. In their angelic disguise, materializing from the very air on beams of light, St. Graylord and his nightjacks might appear more than a little supernatural to a suggestible cardinal steeped in CCL mythology.

  Or then again, Vazquez might well be a fully briefed member of whatever conspiratorial power was in control of the depot. But at least Coeur could give her the benefit of her doubt.

  "Yes, "Kilalt said, "that's her name, Miranda Vazquez. I understand she even has a modest psionic potential."

  "She does? "Coeur asked.

  "Yes, "Graylord said, speaking for the first lime, "although the talent is rather limited. It tends toward a capacity to perceive the truth in the hearts of others."

  "Good lord, "Coeur mused. "That must be how she knew she could trust us."

  "If you're referring to her first interview with you, "Graylord said, "I rather doubt that Since I lack any psionic potential myself,

  I could only train her in the most rudimentary techniques. By far, her most potent asset is her innate intuition."

  "Hm, "Coeur said, looking at Kilalt. "So what about you? Do you have telepathic powers?"

  The flashing scowl on Kilalt's face told Coeur that he almost certainly did not—that and the fact that her mind wasn't riven by a spike of mental energy. Indeed, a rather perturbed expression was building on Kilalt's face the whole time Vazquez was being discussed.

  "I think that will be quite enough, Graylord, ” Kilalt said. "You are dismissed."

  "Your most gracious holiness, "Graylord said, beginning to leave.

  "Leave Martillo here, though."

  "Sir, "Graylord said, at the door, "this is Yunque."

  "Whatever."

  "Sir."

  A moment later, when Graylord had passed through to the door and it had closed behind him, Kilalt hauled himself quickly to his feet, perhaps discontented with the relative lack of status conferred by his sitting position.

  "Damn these robots, "Kilalt said. "I'd almost swear they were intelligent."

  Startled, the Arses exchanged meaningful glances, though they didn't hold them so long that they were conspicuous.

  My God, Coeur thought. Is it possible he doesn't know his own robots ore self-aware?

  Well, of course it is—if he went to sleep before the Collapse, he might not even know about Virus....

  And that could be useful.

  "They do seem rather... perceptive, "Physic said.

  "Yes. "Kilalt said. "But the contractors told me there was a risk in putting too high a percentage of synaptic circuits into an android, so I suppose I should have expected glitches."

  "Just what is Graylord designed for? "Coeur asked.

  "Oh, a very noble purpose. He's a repository of legal and ecclesiastical lore—sort of a mechanical lawyer. He was actually a fairly handsome 'man' before his artificial skin wore off and made a good presentation in court"

  "I see."

  "But, of course, that's ail secondary to his present purpose— maintaining this depot, preserving my memory to the people and awakening me when you arrived."

  "Us?"

  "You, in the sense of people from space. I assume you're from either the imperium or the Solomani Confederation—although I'd tend to lean toward the latter, since they always seemed to prefer black uniforms."

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you, "Coeur said, "but we're not from either. Both of those government! were destroyed over 70 years ago. "'

  "Destroyed? "Kilalt said, genuinely shaken. "I hadn't expected that. Devastation, certainly, but not destruction."

  " I was surprised myself, "Coeur said, "when they woke me up. But it's the truth—there's nothing but wasteland everywhere we've looked."

  "You said 'we.'"

  "The Reformation Coalition, sir. The government we represent"

  "I take it that's not some inflated name for a band of hoodlums, or a bunch of pirate starmercs."

  "No sir. We're larger than that."

  "How much larger?"

  "I'm afraid that's classified, sir."

  "Well, "Kilalt said, gesturing for Yunque to move in closer to the women, "you might consider unclassifying it. It's either that or I'll have to kill you."

  "Over that? "Physic asked, conscious of the looming machine suddenly looking down at her from behind. "The size of our government?"

  "Well, of course! Why do you think I arranged to preserve this depot?"

  "Probably not to set up an arms museum, "Coeur ventured.

  "No, "Graylord said. 'I arranged it to make the maximum income for Mexit, selling arms to the warring nations of space. But if your nation is too small to afford that service, then I'm afraid I'll have to kill you and wait for somebody who can."

  "Just how big is big enough? "Coeur asked.

  "Well, that depends. Do you control a subsector?"

  "More than that, "Coeur admitted.

  "A sector?"

  "No, not quite that much."

  "Well, I suppose that would be a stretch, so soon after the complete destruction of civilization. But a subsector will do— especially if you have other rivals to drive up the price."

  Yes, Coeur thought, I was afraid you'd say that.

  ***

  Although St. Kilalt had few redeeming qualities, he did at least have two traits that Coeur was grateful for. First, he was utterly confident, and therefore perfectly willing to explain every detail of his plans. And second, he was not a technician, meaning he did not entirely grasp the purpose or function of the many displays around him.

  Importantly, one display gave the particulars of a fragment of the planetary defense system still very much intact—a single very large deep-site meson gun below the Aguja Prieta Mountains. Reduced from the dozen deep sites that once protected Mexit (now registering as unpowered and unmanned on a planetary map), it nevertheless represented the foremost challenge to any direct assault on Kilalt, and Coeur took some small comfort in the fact that it utilized a single battery of target acquisition sensors, located very near the depot atop Mt. Altus, the highest mountain overlooking Pesta.

  Incredulous that Kilalt would let her see such data, Coeur nevertheless knew her duty and made a point of memorizing the latitude and longitude of the sensor battery down to hundredths of a degree. In the moments when Kilalt took his gaze away from her.

  Now, she thought. If only I could get this data to Drop Kick....

  "... And so, "Kilalt droned on, "I made the final arrangement with the Solomani. Knowing they needed my church's help to control the population of Mexit, and knowing they needed Mexit as a staging area to assault the imperium, they accepted my deal to lease them the cavern for use as their arms depot."

  "Fascinating, "Coeur said, moving slowly closer to a communications console and leaning back against it. "But surely the Solomani didn't expect you take the depot over yourself."

  "Well, that was the delicate bit. I knew the Solomani planned to delay their offensive and only stockpile weapons here, so it was a calculated gamble that their whole government structure would collapse before any offensive was launched. My only miscalculation—assuming your intelligence is correct—was assuming that the collapse would be temporary."

  "Actually, it's a clever idea, "Physic said, realizing that Coeur was up to something, and hoping to distract Kilalt by moving to the other side of the room. "And now I suppose you'll expect us to take your catalog back to our capital so our government can make out a shopping list."

  "Not quite, "Kilalt said. "From Graylord, I understand that a colleague of yours, Vega Zorn, has a disabled starship in Soledad. After I assume power, I will have that ship seized and repaired, and Graylord will take it—and you—back to your government with my offer."

  "And what makes you think our government will want your service?"

  "If it has rivals, it will. If it doesn't, then Graylord will find someone else who isn't so finicky."

  "I don't know, "Physic said. "You seem awfully confident What makes you think you can just walk into Soledad and take over?"

  "My dear doctor, "Kilalt said, "that will be the easiest part of my plan. If Graylord was even half as effective as I think he was at sustaining my legacy, the people of Soledad will hall me as the prophet of the Defender."

  "Ah, but not the Defender."

  Sympathetically, Kilalt chuckled.

  "Oh, well, I see that you don't understand the nature of our faith. When these primitive people see the miracles I am capable of, I will become the Defender soon enough."

  At this, finally, Physic was stunned. Though hardly religious, neither was she one to trample roughshod over anybody's most deeply held beliefs. Alien as the faith of the Mexitans might be, what Kilalt was proposing was no less repulsive than a charlatan would be to a Terran Christian or Moslem, pretending to be jesus or Mohammed.

  "You've got balls, mister."

  "Yes, I suppose I do."

  Just then, a sudden movement distracted both Physic and Kilalt—the motion of Yunque rushing across the room to seize Coeur.

  "Ouch! "Coeur exclaimed, feeling herself restrained by the grip of two giant hands holding her arms to her sides. Yunque was clearly going easy on her, though, since it had the demonstrated ability to wrench chunks of armor loose from heavy battle dress.

  "What is the meaning of this? "Kilalt asked.

  "Forgive me, your holiness, "Yunque said. "I Interrupted this individual in the process of sending a transmission."

  "Damn! "Kilalt exclaimed, brushing past the restrained Coeur to look at the communications console she had been manipulating behind her back. Unfamiliar with its particular programming, however, he could not tell what—if anything—Coeur had done.

  "All right, "he said to Yunque. "What did she do?"

  "That is not within my area of knowledge. Your Holiness."

  "But you noticed what she was doing!"

  "If I may be so bold, sir, the intelligence necessary to observe suspicious behavior is not the same as the skill to understand it."

  Despite himself—and his discomfort with such an articulate statement from a modified cargo robot—Kilalt had to concede that Yunque was right.

  "Graylord, "Kilalt snapped, into a personal communicator, "get back in here."

  Mere seconds later, the android returned, bringing the other nightjack as a precaution and exhibiting a haste that suggested he had not gone far when dismissed.

  "Sir, you called?"

  "Yes. Yunque says the captain here was tampering with a communications panel. Did she actually send a message?"

  "Indeed she did, "Graylord said, after only a fleeting glance at the communications panel. "She used our radio transmitter, on the surface, to send out a semaphore message reading 'R-S-K. '"

  "R-S-K? What does that mean?"

  "Unknown. Perhaps it is a code."

  "All right. "Kilalt said, wheeling on Coeur. "What does it mean? Or would you rather that Yunque ripped your arms off?"

  "No, "Coeur said, "Graylord's right. It's my initials and the letter'K'—the Coalition general emergency signal."

  "I see. Then it must have a countersignal."

  "No sir. Signal K cannot be countermanded."

  "All right, "Kilalt snarled. "Kill her."

  Whoops, Coeur thought, watching as Martillo moved to block a startled Physic.

  "If I may, "Graylord said, "stress analysis of her voice suggests truthfulness. It may be ill-advised to kill her while she yet can yield useful information."

  In response, Kilalt growled in his throat, but at last relented. "Ah—hell. Let her go."

  "Yes, Your Holiness, "Yunque said, releasing Coeur with as much ease as it might have broken her in two.

  More than a little conscious of that, Coeur stumbled on wobbly knees for a moment as Physic came over to support her. But then she regained her composure, aware that—for whatever reason—Graylord had saved her life, and she glanced very quickly in his direction, hoping to catch some telltale expression on his skull-like metal face.

  The face of Graylord was implacable, though—the very visage of a dead man.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Though it was brief—repeated only a dozen times before it terminated—every spacer near a radio receiver heard the signal R-S-K, clearly amplified as it was by Mexit Depot's powerful 20-megawatt transmitter.

  "What does that mean? "Brother Anthony asked sleepily in the G-carrier, prodded from his sleep by the urgent beeping of the radio.

  "It means we're dusting off is what, "Red Eye said, rushing to check the receiver Newton was monitoring. "Zorn, Whiz Bang, get us out of here."

  "But what about Red Sun? "Zorn asked from the pilot's seat.

  "That was from Red Sun. Signal K means there's imminent danger, and we're to relocate to a safe position."

  "Sir, "Newton observed, "this signal is from a very specific above-ground location. That may mean the captain's party is also near the surface, awaiting rescue."

  "Negative, "Red Eye said. "She wouldn't have sent that signal if that were the case. "

  "I don't know about this, "V-Max said. "What gives you the authority to make a decision like that?"

  "These, "Red Eye said, pointing to the gunnery sergeant's chevrons on his arm. "Now floor it, Zorn. We need to make contact with Drop Kick—assuming he's still alive."

  ***

  Drop Kick, at that moment, was alive but not with his tank. Instead, he was in the hotel room General Lemos had commandeered as his Federal District headquarters, listening to the general's complaints about the new regime.

  "Surely you can see the danger, sergeant. Just today, four of my men were arrested before the Defense Ministry for carrying weapons! Can you believe that—the very soldiers who brought Vazquez to power!"

  "Well...."

  "But that's not all. Just yesterday she began rearming the 1st Brigade and restoring its old officers to their commands! Idiocy!"

  "Well, "Drop Kick tried again, this time breaking into the general's tirade, "It might help to look at this from the president's position. True, your men are brave and skillful fighters. But from a public-relations point of view, the public may prefer to see a more... ah... obviously organized unit defending them."

  "But this 1st Brigade is a legion of butchers! She knows that!"

  Drop Kick countered, "On the other hand, you have to admit most of the 1st Brigade's worn officers were killed or imprisoned '

  Lemos dismissed that with a snort and spun around to face the polarized window of his room, behind which the first glimmer of dawn was beginning to show. After a moment there, he spun back, opening his mouth to respond.

  "Excuse me a minute, "Drop Kick said, interrupting the general to answer the beeping communicator on his wrist. "Drop Kick here. Co ahead."

  "Drop Kick, this is Mercy. We've got an emergency: signal K."

  "Oh hell. From the skipper?"

  "Affirmative. Deep Six confirms that it originated in the mountains near the G-carrier's DZ."

  "Understood. I'll be there ASAP. Drop Kick out."

  "Pardon me for asking, "Lemos said, "but what is signal K?"

  "A general emergency, "Drop Kick said, snatching up his field cap and making for the door. "It means we'll have to dig out and relocate."

  Before Drop Kick could reach the door, Lemos stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  "Sergeant, will you be telling Vazquez where you're going?"

  "Negative. That could compromise our security."

  "Well, sergeant, think about this. What I was about to tell you is that I'm going to move my men out of the city and into the ruins to the north. Why don't you come with us?"

  Drop Kick didn't answer immediately, muffing over instead the merits of the offer.

  "I'm afraid I can't, general—at least not until I know more about the emergency."

  "You don't think we’re the cause of the emergency, do you?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea. But I'll tell you what—keep your laser uplink with you when you go. That way I'll be able to get in touch with you if I have to."

  "All right, "Lemos said, accepting the offer. "But mark my words—whatever crisis your captain discovered. I'll bet it has something to do with Vazquez."

  "Consider them marked, "Drop Kick said, saluting and reaching for the door. "I'll probably be in touch."

  ***

  Last among the spacers to comprehend the significance of signal K were the personnel aboard Vi Et Armis, though not because of any deficit in their communications rig. Rather, they weren't privy to Coeur's code book, so Boomer, the acting commander, was obliged to seek out Bonzo for a translation.

 

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