”I don't know, Liu, "Masaryk said, "I'm sure the captain wouldn't have made the suggestion unless she thought it was important."

  "Oh, right, "An-Wing said, "Just agree with her!"

  "Actually, "Coeur observed, "Bela's correct. I wouldn't have made the suggestion unless I felt it was important Somebody has to go to Kilalt and convince him that he has a good reason to stay in the city—somebody that he, or at least his advisors, can believe is opposed to me."

  "All right, then, "An-Wing said, "Just suppose we went along with this crazy idea. What would we have to offer Kilalt?"

  "I don't know—whatever seems reasonable. You could tell him there's another Oriflammen ship coming to Mexit, and he could escape the planet, or tell him Oriflamme would like to support him in a bid to take over the planet. It doesn't really matter, as long as he buys it."

  "Well, now, "Masaryk said, lifting his good hand, "that seems reasonable, Liu. After all, we did inconvenience the captain earlier when we went to see Brak. Maybe we owe her one."

  "I don't know about that, Bela. If you do this, I don't want it to be because you owe me one. I want you to do it because it's the right thing to do for the future of the Coalition."

  The junior technarchs were silent for a moment, thinking.

  "Give us a moment, "An-Wing said finally. "I'd like to talk this over with Bela myself."

  "Very well, "Coeur agreed, backing through the tent flap and returning to the darkness of night in the camp.

  Given her experience with the technarchs' feistiness, Coeur expected a loud argument would shortly issue from the tent, so she moved a polite distance away to let them have their privacy. No such commotion ensued however, and An-Wing popped her head out of the tent a moment later to summon Coeur back inside.

  "That was quick, "Coeur said. "Have you made a decision?"

  "Yes we have, "An-Wing said, "although Bela isn't entirely happy with it"

  "What's that? "Coeur asked, noting Masaryk's dour expression.

  "I shall go on this mission, "An-Wing said, "but Masaryk will not Both you and he are correct that this mission is important to all the Coalition—Including Oriflamme—but it would be irresponsible to risk any further ln|ury to him."

  Coeur was stunned, but managed to keep her expression neutral. This was not at all the sort of self-sacrifice she expected from An-Wing—though neither could she deny that An-Wing was full of surprises.

  "I hadn't visualized getting you two into any unnecessary danger, "Coeur said. "We figured we'd plant a wire on you and use that to warn you when an attack was imminent, so you could take cover."

  "Nevertheless, "An-Wing said, "It's this way or no way."

  Coeur glanced at Masaryk. "You sure you're all right with this?"

  "I've got to admit that I'm not, but if it's a choice between running the mission with Liu or not running it at all, I think you'd better take the former."

  "All right, then, "Coeur said, offering a hand to An-Wing. 'There'll be a planning meeting in a couple of hours, before daybreak. We'll work out the details then."

  "Very good, "An-Wing replied, accepting Coeur's handshake. "I'll be there."

  Coeur did not press An-Wing for more of an explanation.

  Is it loyalty to Oriflamme or Bela, she wondered, walking out of the tent and back to her mates in the G-carrier. Or does she figure she owes me one? Oh well, who knows. It's like Mestrovic said—we're oil on the same side.

  Maybe she's just figured that out.

  ***

  Twelve hours later, the camp of the imponsero Phalanx swarmed with activity, although most of its soldiers had already departed. Infiltrated into the Federal District during the daytime, when most of the city was asleep, they had left behind only the headquarters staff to guard the children and noncombatant civilians associated with the phalanx. Most activity focused, therefore, on Coeur and the ship's boat she had just brought back from orbit indeed, almost every spacer in the camp clustered around to have a look at it, with the exception of An-Wing and Masaryk—who was helping get An-Wing ready for her own mission.

  "So this is your secret weapon, is it? "Vink asked, climbing into the ship's boat cargo bay to admire a cylindrical tube supported by a heavy metal cradle.

  "Yeah, "Coeur said, "that's a 100-kiloton demolition charge. I figure it'll do the job."

  "Kinda funny, that, "Zorn said, "after all the trouble you made me go through not to nuke Sauler Downport."

  Physic shook her head sadly.

  "Boy, you still don't get it, do you Zorn?"

  "Hey, It was just a joke. I know we're going to set this thing off underground."

  "But what about the people in the depot, sir? "Drop Kick asked. "Are we just going to let them get toasted?"

  "No, "Coeur answered, "we're not I don't know how we're going to convince 200 slaves to get out of that place before it goes up—particularly since they and the nightjacks will probably be shooting at us at the time—but we have to try. Otherwise, all our high-handed rhetoric about respecting life will sound pretty hollow."

  "Amen to that, "Physic responded, watching Zorn.

  "Actually, "V-Max said, "I still think we'll be lucky if we get that far. What if that meson gun of Red's is active and does decide to start firing on us when we enter the depot?"

  "I guess we'll all be dead then, won't we? "Zorn said. "I mean, really, what's a better place to die, here serving your country or back home in front of a firing squad?"

  "Thanks for the perspective, skipper."

  The firepower of a 200-gigajoule meson gun was, of course, nothing to joke about, but Coeur forgave the remarks from pirates who would, indeed, face their own justice once all this was over.

  Yet Coeur had reason to believe that they might be safe from the meson gun, even if it were intact. Since the depot was a relic facility, built by the Solomani, it almost certainly had an integral meson screen and a fail-safe circuit that would prevent that screen from ever being lowered when the planet's meson guns were firing. Otherwise, an incorrect fire solution from one of the guns could very well let it annihilate the better portion of the depot with a single shot.

  "Let's worry about that when we get toil, "Coeur said. "Now, has anybody seen Liu?"

  "Right here, "An-Wing called from behind the crowd.

  "Let her through, "Coeur said Coeur didn't need to give that order, though, for the Arses and pirates alike fell aside when they saw how remarkably An-Wing had fixed herself up. Followed by Masaryk, she appeared in something altogether lighter and breezier than her usual depressing black—a green silk dress with gold applique design and a red sash.

  "Good Gaia, "Zorn said, "where in the world did you get that?"

  "Oh, "An-Wing said modestly, "It's just a little something I brought down from orbit."

  "Hm. "Coeur remarked. "I thought Mercy put a strict weight limit on what you could bring down in the tank."

  "Of course she did, "An-Wing replied. "That's why I only brought essentials, like this."

  "Hm, "Physic said, giving An-Wing a once-over look. "I think it's the sling-back pumps that do it for me."

  "All right, all right, "Coeur said, "enough with the fashion discussion. Liu, do you understand your mission?"

  "Roger, I'm to make contact with Kilalt, promise him the sun, the moon and all the stars in the sector, and hold him in pi ace until I get word to duck."

  "Good enough, "Coeur said. "We've fed Kilalt radio messages suggesting you'd try to make contact with him, so at the very least he shouldn't be surprised at your coming. Now, Physic, did you get the wire implanted?"

  "Yes, sir, "Physic said. "It's subcutaneous, so nobody'll spot it Of course, I could have implanted a transmitter, too, but I figured that would be too obvious on an x-ray scan."

  "I'm sure it’ll be fine, just remember to listen for the warning from General Lemos. His troops will begin their assault in two hours, just about the same time we hit the depot, and that'll be the time for you to take cover."

  "Understood, "An-Wing nodded.

  "Good luck, Liu, "Masaryk offered, his face a rigid mask.

  "Thanks, Bela, "the other junior technarch said, though her face had likewise become a mask of control.

  "All right, then, let's let the lady go. She's got important work to do."

  "Thank you. Captain, "An-Wing said, climbing aboard a hovering broomstick that Red Eye held in place for her. She then powered up the impeller fans and steered the loosed broomstick up into the expansive canopy of star speckled night.

  "That's phase one, "Coeur said. "Now it's our turn. Bela, Red Eye, Newton and V-Max are going to stay here with the rebel camp. The rest of us, it's time to hit that depot"

  "You know it's funny, "V-Max said to Red Eye, off to one side of the camp. "I haven't seen Newton all day. Suppose he's hiding?"

  "Of course he's hiding, "the first sergeant said. "But then, he wouldn't be much of a Hiver if he wanted to volunteer for a firefight."

  "True."

  "You heard the woman, "Drop Kick said meanwhile, hustling his own people and Zorn's away from Coeur and her bomb. "Let's get moving! Whiz Bang's team—Bonzo, Widget, Zorn—into the G-carrier. All the rest of Zorn's people. Into the ship's boat with Red Sun and Physic! Hurry up, people, we don't have all night!"

  The Arses and pirates scrambled quickly aboard the two transport craft, leaving Drop Kick just a moment to check for stragglers before saluting Red Eye and dashing for the intrepid with Mercy.

  "Say, Red, "Zorn said to Coeur via maser, from the G-carrier she'd been assigned to fly, "I wonder how you'd feel about a little wager."

  "What's that?"

  "How about this: If the base really isn't protected by a fail-safe meson screen and we all get blasted, V-Max and I surrender ourselves for prosecution. But if there is a meson screen and we get in safely, then you let us go free. ”

  Coeur laughed.

  "Nice sucker bet, Zorn. Follow Drop Kick out when he lifts off."

  "Yes, sir."

  With that the operation was on. Following the intrepid's lead, the G-carrier and ship's boat engaged their contra-grav to float free of the ground, then powered their whining plasma thrusters to follow the tank off into the night.

  Dawn—and the proof of their success or failure—was eight hours away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Standing in an opulent, but otherwise empty, apartment, a lone man with a gaunt face stared down into the broad expanse of Enea Avenue—ablaze with scattered fires and echoing with the sound of distant gunfire—and marveled.

  Within his fortress the flames and gunfire could not touch him.

  In the distance he could see crowds of tiny people rushing back and forth, swept like piles of leaves before a gusting wind. What did those people think they could accomplish?

  What did you really expect tit me alter my 90 years of patience? How would you knew what it is like to feel your hie slip away into coldness, with no guarantee of a future except the power of your own will? What future do you deserve it you cannot conceive of such an act?

  What did you imagine I dreamed while I slept away the decades? Did you think I dreamt of grace? Of light? This church of yours was nothing but a circus for your amusement, and I have brought you the greatest show of all: life, death, darkness, lire.

  Yes I dreamed, and this is what I dreamed of. You may call it chaos, but I stand above it and know that whatever you may call it, it is mine.

  Attempting to lower himself to the level of such creatures was an effort for Kilalt, however, and he withdrew from his bulletproof window to settle into a relic ottoman and reflect upon the process that had brought him here.

  Though no one in the city knew it Kilalt was not the real Cardinal Kilalt—rather, he was an aide of the cardinal, who had taken his name after murdering him. The real Kilalt probably was a saint—If the word had any meaning at all—a man who hoped to use the technology in the depot to save Mexit from the dark age he was certain was coming. But he lacked cunning and the sense to see that Mexit Depot could serve other purposes. His most senior aide, however, knew better—that the weapons of Mexit Depot could as easily make a man into God as they could rebuild a world. He killed Saint Kilalt before he could undergo suspension.

  Awakening from suspension, though, the false Kilalt experienced a strange and frightful dream. Screaming at mobs of people who would not hear him, he tried to impress them with the arsenal of weapons in the depot, but even when he killed them by the thousands they would not listen. Rather, they stood by unmoved as a great hand descended from the heavens and crushed him in its grip.

  Could it have been, Kilalt wondered, that the Defender himself was speaking to me in my dreams?

  Kilalt dismissed that with an involuntary rasping of his lips.

  No, that's nonsense. There is no Defender in Heaven, only myself. I must not forget that—I am the only god these people must fear.

  The beeping of an intercom panel on the wall interrupted Mbit's thoughts.

  "Yes, "he said impatiently, "what is it?"

  "Your Most Sacred Holiness, "a fearful priest answered, "we have an update on the rebel advance. Our perimeter guard reports it has been thrown back from the area of the Church of the Holy Sacristy, just a kilometer from here."

  "Yes. And?"

  "And, perhaps, sir, you might be thinking of moving to another location."

  Kilalt only chuckled at this.

  "You panic too easily, Brother Patrick. Are the nightjacks still intact?"

  "Yes, Your Holiness."

  "Then they will protect us. Trouble me no more."

  "Yes, Your Holiness."

  And besides, Kilalt thought, there's always the holy chariot up on the roof if things get too rough.

  And indeed, the rifle fire that was heard earlier, seemingly so dose to the Defense Ministry, died away after a few minutes, suggesting that the rebel assault had met the nightjacks reinforcing the 1st Soledad Brigade and fallen back. Doubtless, the brave rabble would continue their assaults until they ran out of men, but Kilalt doubted there would be any breakthrough tonight.

  If only those damned meson guns weren't all disabled. lust one of those would end this whole stupid insurrection in one night.

  For whatever reason, though, the meson guns didn't work, and now that Graylord had gone missing, the likelihood of finding out why was rather low. But all the same, there were still old-fashioned methods available to suppress a popular uprising. First Kilalt would intimidate the public with swift execution of dissidents. And then—when the rebels were deprived of p>opular support—he would hunt them down and kill them all.

  Well, anyway, if it was good enough for Lucan and the Solomani, it's good enough for me.

  Ancient hi story notwithstanding, Kilalt was not so certain of his safety that he didn't admit the possibility of defeat. Therefore, he had risen from his ottoman to begin collecting valuables—mainly jewelry and gems kept as portable wealth—when another urgent call came from Brother Patrick a few minutes later.

  "This had better be important. "Kilalt said. "I told you not to disturb me."

  "Forgive me. Your Holiness—I wouldn't disturb you if I didn't think you'd want to hear this yourself. A woman has been captured by our nightjacks who claims to be a representative of Oriflamme."

  'Oriflamme, you say? Could that be the same woman who tried to reach us earlier today?"

  "We believe so. Your Holiness. She claims to have called us on that same frequency, and matches the physical description of Liu An-Wing—an Oriflammen who had some earlier disagreements with Captain D'Esprit."

  "Indeed. But did she say what she wanted?"

  'Sir, she claims to represent the planet Oriflamme itself, as opposed to the entire Coalition, and she says her planet is interested in bargaining for exclusive access to something she calls' the depot."

  Oh really?

  "You're right. Brother Patrick, this could be significant Have her brought up to my chapel immediately."

  "Yes, Your Most Sacred Holiness."

  Abruptly, Kilalt put the collection of valuables on hold and walked quickly to his apartment's front door, which opened directly into the Chapel of Blessed Providence.

  Occupying all of the top floor of the building not occupied by Kilalt's apartment, the chapel was a massive structure, yet not as large as the saint would have preferred. With only 1200 square meters of floor space to work with, there was only room to write SAINT KILALT, BELOVED OF GOD once in three-meter-high letters in a ring around the room, and barely enough room to fit a twice life-sized statue of himself—carved by the nightjack's integral plasma torches—above the golden, Jewel-encrusted altar.

  All in all, though, standing in the vast chamber did give Kilalt a warm and safely impervious feeling. At any rate, there weren't any windows inside to admit a view of the city burning—and all those tedious peasants outside.

  "Your Most Sacred Holiness, "a nightjack announced a mo-merit later, arriving through a side elevator with a tall, blackhaired woman in a green silk dress, whom it held loosely by the arm with one massive hand, "the representative from Oriflamme."

  "You know, "the woman said, "I'm not going to run away."

  "Quite right, "Kilalt said. "Release her, Resguardo."

  The robot obliged, and its Prisoner stepped away.

  "You must forgive my friends, ” Kilalt said. "They are rather zealous in my protection. ”

  "Yeah, I can see that, ” the woman said, smoothing out her dress, "but you needn't worry about that with me. You can see I don't have any place to keep a concealed weapon."

  "Well then, what are you here for?"

  "Your Holiness, I'm here as a representative of the Oriflamme Council of Technarchs. In its behalf I'd like to talk to you about access to your depot Oh, my name is Liu An-Wing, by the way, lord technarch of Honfestung."

 

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