He looked up. The young woman was smiling broadly now. “Why, that’s most kind of you, Governor Schenck. Most thoughtful. I would be honored to accompany you. But may I ask a small request? Might I bring my good friend Captain Hamsun with me to the banquet? The Captain has kept me sane these past four months, and I would dearly like to retain his company a day or two longer, before we must go our separate ways.” Schenck released her hand, looking past her at the grizzled old man in uniform, who stood in the hatchway at the top of the steps. He smiled and lowered his head slightly, acknowledging Hamsun’s salute. “Why, of course. I’ll send ahead to let my people know there is another guest. But now, if you would like to come through, I have arranged for three maids to tend to you while you’re here. I’m sure you’d welcome the chance to freshen up and prepare yourself before we set off again.” Then, before she could answer, he added, “Besides, it will give Captain Hamsun time to change his uniform and secure his ship.”
She lowered her head slightly, answering him with a silent smile, then took his hand again, letting him lead her through the ranks of the honor guard and up the broad ramp toward the reception area. “If there’s anything you’d like to see while you’re here,” he offered, as they approached the double doors of the main spaceport building, “a visit to the site of the first settlement, for instance, you have only to say and I shall arrange things. It would take half a day, a day at most.” She smiled, slowing as a helmeted guard turned and pressed a control pad on the wall beside him, opening the big double doors. “I would enjoy that,” she said, stepping through into the spacious air lock. “Providing we’ve time, of course.”
Schenck bowed, watching the outer door close behind her, conscious of being alone with her for that brief moment. Then, as the inner doors hissed open, he put out a hand, ushering her through. “Good. I’ll have my secretary arrange it.” He laughed, beginning to enjoy her company. “It’ll give me an excuse to take a break from my official duties.”
As they stepped out into the big reception hall, four soldiers closed up behind them, guarding the doorway. Schenck smiled at them, pleased to see that Captain Brookes was taking things seriously. He looked about him, noting that the place had been cleared, as he’d ordered. Two officers were standing by the customs counter, their backs to him; otherwise the place was empty. He started toward them.
“Where are those maids?”
There was the sound of a scuffle behind him, a cry cut short. He turned. Jelka Tolonen was on the floor, two guards pinning her down while a third was binding her wrists.
“What the hell. . . ?”
“Governor Schenck!”
He jerked back around. DeVore was standing there facing him, a stranger at his side. In his left hand he was holding what looked to be some kind of stringed instrument.
“Howard?” he began, surprised to see him there. “What’s ha—?” Schenck dropped to his knees, the uncompleted word a gurgle in his throat, a crossbow bolt projecting from his neck. Handing the crossbow to Auden, DeVore walked across to where the guards had pulled the young woman up onto her knees. She was gagged, her hands and feet bound fast. One of the guards held her upright, while a second pulled her head back savagely, her long hair twisted tightly in his hand. DeVore leaned close, looking directly into her face, seeing the light of realization come into her eyes. He smiled. “Well, well . . . Jelka Tolonen. It’s been a long time, neh? A long, long time.”
climbing down from the cockpit of the two-man flier, Ebert felt the frigid wind bite into him, despite the heater of his suit. Though it was still day, it was dark. For the last fifty li they had flown blind through the storm, following the tracking signal.
The news on the flier’s radio had been bad. Governor Schenck was dead, along with most of the ruling Council. Feng Shou Hao City was in flames, while there were riots in at least eight of the other cities, the great northern city of Hong Hai among them. Hsiang Se City, it was said, was in the hands of the MRA, while the Tzu Li Keng Seng generating complex had shut down. There were no reports of any of the great pipelines being damaged, but it was early yet; the situation was changing hourly, and who knew what would happen when night came?
Tien Men K’ou, at least, was calm. DeVore had seen to that. His guards had crushed the Federation agitators swiftly, taking no prisoners, then had imposed a brutal curfew, effectively closing down the City. DeVore himself had flown north to Kang Kua City with a contingent of five hundred men to secure the planetary capital.
He, meanwhile, had been sent south, a thousand li, into the storm, a taciturn pilot his only company.
“Over there,” the pilot said, coming close to point away into the murk, his voice, over the helmet radio, muffled, contesting with the roar of the wind.
Ebert nodded, then started across, the fine windblown sand buffeting him as he came out of the flier’s cover, forcing him to lean into it if he was to make progress. For a moment there was nothing, only the noise, the violent swirl of the storm, a thick blanket surrounding him on every side. He began to think that maybe DeVore had betrayed him—had set him down in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death or die of oxygen starvation—then, just ahead, the storm seemed to lessen, the nothingness take on a darker form. A moment later he was beneath a sloping cliff, the air clearer suddenly, an open space ahead of him, between dark, wind-scoured rocks. There was a movement to his right.
“Here,” a voice said inside his helmet. Ebert turned, looking across. A tall, suited figure was waiting between the rocks. There was something strange about him. His pressure suit, with its high-domed helmet, was curiously old-fashioned, like those the first settlers had worn. And the way he stood there . . .
Ebert started toward him. So these are DeVore’s “friends,” he thought, studying the man as he moved closer, wondering if it was indeed a man, or something DeVore had had fashioned in his vats. The stranger turned, moving in, between the rocks. Ebert followed him. Ten paces back, where the cliff began again, a narrow flight of steps had been cut into the rock, leading down into darkness. Ebert hesitated, then went down, standing behind the stranger as he turned an old-fashioned metallic wheel. There was a click and then the heavy door swung slowly back. They went inside, into a narrow air lock, lit only by a single overhead lamp. The stranger turned, facing Ebert, his body suddenly very close, his face hidden behind the dark glass of the helmet’s visor. His physical presence in that tiny space was strangely powerful, almost overwhelming. It was as if Ebert could smell the maleness of him. “Forgive me,” he said, pushing Ebert firmly but gently against the wall. Then, reaching past him, he swung the door closed and spun the inner wheel, locking the door.
Ebert looked past his companion, noting once again the strangeness of the air lock’s design. The walls were unfaced rock, the twin doors studded metal. Old-fashioned was not the word for it. It was primitive! Why, there was barely enough space for the two of them. He watched as the stranger turned the wheel to the inner door, noting once again the delicacy of movement in those gloved hands. When he’d pushed him back against the wall, it had felt like the touch of a woman, yet stronger, far stronger, than that of any woman he had known. As the door eased back he felt the sudden inrush of air and nodded inwardly. He was beginning to understand. The system was as simple as they could make it. Simple, but effective. There were no electronics to go wrong, therefore no chance of fire or of being trapped. And this far south that mattered, especially in winter.