TNE 02 To Dream of Chaos Page 23

"Red? I think Hound 'em."

  "What? Where?"

  "It looks tike they're on a broomstick and making like holy hell for the center of the city."

  The pause In Coeufs response, Tom supposed, was almost certainly Coeur verifying thattheone broomstickaboardwasmisslng.

  "Damn It! I knew I shouldn't have let those two down here!"

  "I think if s a little late for that." Tom said. "If one of the Marine teams doesn't stop them, they're going downtown."

  Chapter 14

  Bela Masaryk had known about this contingency for months— the possibility that he and An-Wing would have to separate from the Aubani on Mexit and meet with the government themselves—but he wasn't entirely sure this was the right time to do it. Quite apart from the fact that he disliked the prospect of along ride on a broomstick, Masaryk was concerned that Liu An-Wing had gravely miscalculated the wisdom of rushing to negotiate with The unstable Emperor Brak.

  "Really, Bela," An-Wing said, from the front seat of their highflying broomstick, "I thought we'd gone over all this. We can't trust the motives of Aubaine, right?"

  "Right."

  "And it was our citizens who were lost here, right?"

  "Weft, yes, but™"

  "But what? I'm sick of these Aubani thinking they run they entire Coalition, getting all the breaks and pushing us aside as a second-class planet. If s about time we took matters into our own hands."

  Masaryk paused before answering. Given his discomfort with air travel, he found his breath coming shallow whenever he glanced below ine broomstick at the intermittent lights of AJbegar rolling past! 00 meters below, and Itdidn't help that the broomstick pitched violently whenever it ran into turbulence In the chill air over Soledad.

  "You all right, Bela?"

  "Oh, sure," Masaryk replied, unconvincingly, "Try looking at my back instead of the ground."

  "Check."

  Amazingly, that worked pretty well.

  "Better?"

  "Better."

  "So when we gel to the Federal District we'll present a unified front?"

  "Of course, Liu. It's Just that—I think we should have left a message for Red Sun, something to tell her where we're going,"

  "We couldn't risk that, Bela, Red Sun would just have made us stay there."

  "But, Uu, how can you be so sure this Brak fellow Is really sane?"

  "Oh, Bela, don't be so naive. Ifs an act, see? Brak probably just 3cts crazy to throw his opponents oH balance. But I'll wager he knows where the depot is, 3nd he's just waiting for the best possible offer for its contents."

  "How do you explain Zero, then?"

  "Zero was never a good bargainer," An-Wing said. "He always was too greedy."

  "And we're not?"

  "Not greedy, Bela—practical. Oriflamme needs that depot, and we're going to get It for her."

  Presently, they flew into the darkness beyond Albegar and lost the spirit for conversation. Silent minutes followed where their thoughts turned Inward and unknown to each other.

  Then, at last, the glowing edge of the Federal District shone ahead. A short time later, as she steered toward the center of the city, An-Wing spotted a patrolling grav vehicle that she took for a tank (although It was actually a light support sled) and moved into plain view of its forward sensors, "Ah...hello there," An-Wing said, hailing the vehicle on the Coalition distress frequency. "You in The tank, are you receiving us?"

  Implacably, the tank continued closing.

  "Damn it," An-Wing said to Masaryk, "I'm using the distress frequency, so why doesn't he answer?"

  "Actually, they might use a different distress frequency here," Masaryk said, sweating from his forehead despite the chill air. "Maybe we should just leave...."

  The support sled cut that option off a moment later, with the clatter of its tunet-mounted coaxial machinegun. Ducking from its tracers—spraying without apparent aim overhead—An-Wing unwittingly threw the broomstick into a spin that she barely recovered from a few meters above the conugated steel of a factory roof.

  The support sied followed them down, and its commander threw open Its top hatch when he saw that both An-Wing and Masaryk had their hands up.

  "Attention, alien crattl" the black-jacketed man announced, with the aid of a bullhorn. "You will land Immediately or be destroyed!"

  The commander then looked on with satisfaction as An-Wing offered her profuse apologies and landed hastily on a nearby sidewalk.

  Contact had been made.

  • * #

  Having studied Coalition briefings about various TEDs In the Wilds, An-Wing fully expected that a period of Indeterminate Incarceration would follow their landing Inside the Federal District. She was aiso just ascertain that the Incarceration would end when she established her knowledge of Zero and explained Just how profitable It would be to give Orlfiamme's Council of Technarchs exclusive access to the depot.

  Seemingly verifying this wisdom, then, An-Wing and Masaryk were only briefly held Indetentlon. Twounarmored soldiers soon came to escort them out of acell on the ground floor of the titanic defense ministry and up through a maglev elevator to an audience chamber adorned In gold and marble fittings.

  Given the presence of a dais, throne and various hanging flags, the Junior technarchs realized that this was likely the chamber of Brak himself and stood at attention before their guards had a chance to order them todoso. Soon, the thunder of armored feet In adjoining corridors told them of powered troopers approaching, and An-Wing began to formulate her best pitch.

  First onto the dais, however, was a man whom An-Wing took for some sort of minister because of bis formal dress and red sash. Carrying a computer under his arm, he spoke in a loud and booming voice without looking directly at the Orlflammen.

  "All kneel before His Most Exalted Highness, Emperor Brak the Flrstl"

  The Orillammen knell and, taking a cue from their guards, looked humbly at the floor.

  "Arise."

  Lifting their heads, they saw at last what they had come for, the resplendent figure of Emperor Brak, whom they recognized from his portrait on the side of this and various other buildings. An imposing figure, the mustached and block-jawed man wore nothing so simple as robes or a military tunic. Striding into the chamber instead In unhelmeted gold and silver battle dress, gleaming brightly beside two escorts In helmeted, flat-black armor.

  Resplendent as Brak was, though, there was subtle evidence that he and his followers had difficulty maintaining their equipment. The servos in their relic battle dress wheezed and groaned noisily in protest at the loads they labored under, and from time to time the battle dress limbs would freeze In awkward positions—surely a liability in combat.

  But then It couldn't be too much of a liability, An-Wing reasoned, since Brak was still alive.

  "I take it," Brak rumbled, with the same Imperious tone he used on the radio, "that you are from Oriflamme."

  "Yes, yourhlghness," An-Wing said, "My name Is Liu An-Wing, and this Is my associate, Bela Masaryk. We representative the Council of Technarchs of Oriflamme."

  "The same Oriflamme that the crew of Crazy Jane was from?"

  "That Is correct, Your Highness."

  "Were you not informed," Brak said, "of the proper time and place for a meeting?"

  "Well, yes, but we felt It would be bettef to come here beforehand, to avoid the awkward confrontation that probably would have happened If you met with our captain tomorrow."

  "What? Are you not the captain of the Technarch?"

  "Ah—no. Actually, Junior Technarch Masaryk and I are from Oriflamme, but we came to this world aboard another starship, the Hornet, from Aubaine. But Aubaine Is a greedy, selfish little pfanet that you really shouldn't worry yourself about. They came here with the intention of taking your depot for themselves, but we came ahead of them to warn you and bid for access to the depot at a fair price."

  Upon hearing this, Brak grew livid with rage and strode down the steps of the dais with surprising speed and agility,
"Bid?" he thundered, grasping Masaryk by his right forearm and shaking him like a little child. "Bid! What kind of Idiot do you take me for?"

  Caught between confusion and concern for Masaryk, An-Wing elected not to answer. This only seemed to enrage Brak further, however, and he crushed the bones of Masaryk's forearm In his steel grip.

  Likely Inured to such casual violence, the unpowered guards moved to block An-Wtng's possible escape—an increasingly attractive option as Brak kept the wincing Masaryk In his grip for a long moment. At length, he turned Masaryk loose, and An-Wing went to him as he crumpled to the floor.

  "I am not a violent man," Brak said, In answer to the ml* of shock and confusion on the Junior technarchs' faces, "but I grow Impatient with the ruses and deceptions of your people- Now tell me where the depot Is!"

  "Tell youV An-Wing said.

  "Yes. Now."

  "I don't know what you're talking aboutl I assumed you controlled the depot...."

  Brak growled deep In his throat, making An-Wing shrink back with Masaryk, but the emperor stopped short of another exhibition of torture. Instead, he collected himself and strode back to the dais.

  "Ms. An-Wing, I can see that we are not communicating clearly, so you'll just have to spend some time in our prison to help you refresh your memory. For you and your friend's sake, I hope it helps."

  Although Masaryk was clearly In agony—barely able tostumbie toward the elevator bank with An-Wing's help, An-Wing's exhortations for medical aid met only with rigid refusal. Emperor Brak, they were told, would not allow it.

  "Will you at least gel me a splint for his arm, then?" An-Wing snapped, stopping herself and Masaryk short of their destination elevator and apparently warding off a butt stock beating by the sheer strength of her voice.

  The private— the younger of the two men—finally relented after a hesitant moment, walking down the hallway to a small dispensary. When he returned some seconds later, he brought a curved slab of plastic expressly designed for use as a brace.

  "Thank you," An-Wing said, grateful for the gesture but still unable to keep the bile completely out of her voice.

  Impatient with both An-Wing and the private, the older sergeant abruptly pushed the junior technarchs into the nearest elevatorcab, delaying An-Wing's effort to help Masaryk until after they were inside. There An-Wing summoned enough of her memories of first aid classes in the junior Pathfinders to sit Masaryk on the elevator floor and secure the splint to his arm with strips of material lorn from her vest lining before using the vest itself as a sling. Since her pockets had been emptied earlier in a thorough search, the clothes on her back were literally all she had to work with, but she did a good enough job to at least let Masaryk stand unaided.

  "Oh, Beta," An-Wing whispered, "I'm so sorry—I didn't think this was going to happen."

  "It's all right," Bela answered, wincing. "You didn't twist my arm to come."

  No, An-Wing thought, i/usi got it broken Seconds later, the elevator arrived in the very bowels of the building- -the lowermosi of Three basement levels where the prison was housed. Well below the street level cell where the junior technarchs were held before, it was 3 cold and forbidding place that inslanily quashed any hope that An-Wing might have held out for rescue or escape. After checking in at a wire-cage security station staffed by dour men and women, the private and sergeant suDjected the junior Oriflammen to another rigorous search and then lead them down a silent concrete corridor lit by caged electric bulbs and partitioned by steel doors doubtless wired to slam shut at any alarm or cut in power.

  Since the clatter of the guards' heavy boots attracted hooting and cat calls from certain of the windowfess, steei-doored ceils, An-Wing surmised that those might hold the rebel prisoners that Coeur was keen to spring, but she was at a loss to see how it could be managed. When the door of the unnumbered cell that was their destination was unlocked by the old sergeant, An-Wing saw that both the door and the wall were over a half-meter thick.

  While the older guard was unlocking the door, however, a strange thing happened. The younger guard, with a wary glance at hiscompanion, dropped something into a pocket of An-Wing's culottes, just before pushing her and Masaryk into the poorly lit cell.

  Wary that a camera might be inside the cell, An-Wing resisted the urge to look into her pocket immediately, instead, she focused her attention on the prisoner already in the cell. Even as the door slammed, that other prisoner—a vaguely familiar blonde woman of perhaps 20—came forward to help Masaryk to the cell's other cot. Despite the bruises and burn marks on her face and arms, her expression was sympathetic, and that keyed An-Wlng's recognition of the woman a moment later.

  "Oh my Cod, You're Carl Becker!"

  "Sure am," 2om's boat pilot said. "Afraid I don't know you two, though."

  "Well, we haven't met," An-Wing said, helping Carl settle Masaryk into a more-or-less comfortable sitting position against the wall, "but we've seen your picture. Your Captain Tom gave it to us to study."

  "Tom?" Can asked, pouring water from a corroded tap into a cup for Masaryx and then returning to her col.

  "Oh yes," An-Wing said, sitting near Masaryk on the other cot. "She's linked up with our expedition from the Coalition and helped set up a base camp in the Lomarica Hills."

  Suddenly, Cari gritted her teeth and made an exasperated growl, "What?" An-Wing asked.

  "You should be careful what you talk about, girl. This room is probably wired for sound."

  "Makes sense," Masaryk gasped. "Why else would they put us together, except to catch something we're hiding?"

  "Exactly," Carl said.

  "Well, excuse me, "An-Wing said Icily. "It's not like I've had an easy day myself."

  An-Wmg's weary and haggard companions didn't dignify that with an answer.

  "What?" An-Wing challenged them.

  "ForgetIt" Cari conceded. "You're right. We've all had a hard time of it."

  "Yeah," An-Wing muttered, "a hard time. We give this backwater buffoon Brak a fair business proposition, and he throws us In a dungeon for our trouble."

  "Let me guess," Cari said. "AJJ he wanted to know was where the depot was."

  "That's right," An-Wing said. "We thought he controlled it, but when I tried to ask him about It, he went nuts."

  "I think that's all because of Zero. They asked...they asked Katie! a lot of questions about him."

  "Your cousin," An-Wing said, "Yes, my cousin."

  "Is he in another cell?"

  "No, Katzel is dead. He died yesterday, after his last beating,"

  Involuntarily, An -Wing gasped.

  And Masaryk threw up.

  "I'm sorry," he said afterward, trying to wipe off his mouth with his good left arm. "I just don't want to get hurt any more."

  "Oh, Bela," An-Wing crooned, moving up to cradle a comforting arm around Masaryk's back.

  What have I done?

  An-Wing then remembered the mysterious thing in her pocket and reached her free right hand down to fish it out.

  Well, I'll be damned, An-Wing thought, reflecting on the plastic cylinder in her cupped hand and the label alerting her to Its contents.

  "What do you have there?" Cari asked.

  "Oh, nothing" Ar.-Wing said, wary of alerting anyone listening In. She did, however, show the bottle to an amazed Cari.

  A bottle of morphine tablecs.

  Although An-Wing had hoped Carl's burns and bruises were from the church fire, not from torture, that was not the case. Though The Emperor Brak refrained from having his thugs bludgeon women, his sense of gallantry did not exclude the application of electric shock, with voltages calculated to Inflict pain without inducing unconsciousness.

  Nearly three days of this treatment had reduced Cari to the point of permanent exhaustion, and she collapsed Intofitful sleep not long after the junior technarchs arrived —a sleep made easier by one of An-Wing's proffered pills.

  "I really shouldn't." Cari had said, moving her lips to make the words but not utte
ring the sounds. "They'll know."

  "Take it," An-Wing replied. "How many breaks do you get here?"

  Ironically, Masaryk agreed with Cari, but the magnitude of their discomfort was such that both were easily persuaded to take the pills. Not long afterward, both were asleep, and An Wing was left alone with her guilt.

  Yet An-Wing was not one to endlessly torment herself for a mistake, and she began to formulate a strategy for dealing with the Soledad TED.

  She would tell Brak what he wanted to know.

  Some hours later—it was difficult to tell how many without windows or a clock—two new guards came to unlock the ceil door, and as An-Wing expected, she was the one they chose to take with them. Masaryk grogglly tooknoieol this and moved to get up and protest, but only got a nightstick in the gut for his trouble.

  Like the soldiers who brought An-Wing and Masaryk down to the prison, these guards wore uniforms of the Soledad Army, but added the forbidding touch of helmets with dark-tinted visors and metal cages to protect The lace. Worn with padding over the neck, torso and groin, it doubtless served a protective purpose, but An-Wing suspected its prime value was psychological—In the distance it put between the guards and their charges.

  Opposite the direction she'd been brought in, An-Wing was led to a side corridor and an ominous door labeled POlfTICAL CORRECTION. Unlocked by the keys of both guards—Inserted simultaneously into two locks—its opening released a gust of musty odor. An-Wing*s ultimate destination was a few meters on through yet another—unmarked—door.

  Strangely, the room almost resembted a doc tor's examination room a: first glance, with a swiveltng couch, an examination table and various caoinets. Upon closer inspection, though, she saw that the chair arms featured heavy metal arm and leg restraints, and that a pair of insulated gloves sal on a tray by the wall, together with various eleclrodes and spools of plastic-shrouded cable.

  Oh he//,

  Though An-Wing had never felt an electric shock, she edged away from the room Instinctively, prompting the guards to seize her by herarms and plant her roughly in the swlveling chair. They then clapped shut the restraints over her wrists and ankJes, and locked them to hold her securely in place.