"Another good reason to have left us alone," O'Hara suggested. "Conventional wisdom would say the Ryqril could handle us themselves."
"Which begs the question of where the hell the Ryqril reaction is," Haven growled. Outside, the blackcollars from the second car were flitting shadowlike along the street toward the Security positions. If they really didn't know the blackcollars were behind them, they wouldn't have anyone watching their backs....
The results were inconclusive, but if there were sentries posted, they clearly weren't up to the job.
Minutes later, the entire Security force adequately neutralized, the cars sped through the gate and out into the relative safety of the city beyond. O'Hara turned at the first corner and pulled into a garage that opened before them, and as the car rolled inside, Haven caught a glimpse out the window of a dark craft riding high in the sky above them.
He smiled tightly. So the Ryqril had sent a Corsair or two after them. But if they'd held off attacking to avoid damaging their puppets in the Hub, they'd gambled away their last chance. Out here, among the common people and the labyrinth escape route he and Greene had set up, the aliens hadn't a hope in hell of catching them without burning down all of Capstone.
Which, it occurred to him, they might be willing to do. But that was out of his hands. His part of Project Christmas had been a success; the future repercussions were up to the universe at large.
Chapter 37
"Backlash." Colvin said the word slowly, as if tasting it. "Backlash. So that's what this whole thing was about. Damn. No wonder you kept it secret, Caine—the Ryqril would probably have preferred blowing up Denver to our getting hold of it."
"We haven't got it yet," Skyler warned. "Speaking for myself, Lathe, I don't believe it. If Torch reconstructed the formula for Backlash, why did they give it a different name?"
"Why not?" Lathe countered. "After all, there's no guarantee they ever knew the correct code name to begin with."
"In which case," Hawking put in dryly, "they hit mighty close to it accidentally. I agree with Skyler, Lathe—I think we should avoid getting our hopes up at this stage."
"Agreed," Lathe said. "But whether Torch's drug is Backlash or not, we still need some way to test it out. Suggestions?"
There was a minute of silence. Caine sent his gaze around the room, to Colvin and Braune as they stared off into space... to Alamzad as he whispered quietly to Hawking... to Pittman, who finally knew why the tightrope he'd been walking all these months had been so important.
And as his eyes drifted to Skyler and Jensen he could see that they, too, were watching his teammates—were judging, perhaps, their reactions and potentials. We're still in school as far as they're concerned, he thought with a touch of bitterness. Cadets—trainees—junior members of the team. Well, that's going to change soon. Just as soon as we're true blackcollars ourselves.
"What sort of documentation was there for this Whiplash stuff?" Hawking spoke up. "Anything either on the computer or hard-copied?"
"The book had a lot of stuff in it besides production listings," Lathe told him, "but I couldn't make much sense out of it. You and Alamzad can take a run through it, but I suspect we'll need a biochem expert to really figure it out."
"In other words," Pittman said quietly, "the only way to really test it will be to try it out on someone.
All right; whenever you're ready, I volunteer."
"Thanks," Lathe said, "but we're a long way from that point yet. We first have to look through the book and the medical computer, and then see if we can get into the main computer upstairs. And even then we aren't just going to inject anyone with an unknown drug."
"Eventually, you'll have to," Pittman said. "And you know it. I'm just getting my bid in early."
"Pittman..." Skyler hesitated. "Look, they're going to be all right. Project Christmas—"
"Was impossible from the start," the younger man said with a touch of bitterness. "Don't kid yourselves—I didn't. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the effort."
"Pittman—"
"No, it's all right, Lathe." Pittman got to his feet, headed for the door. "I'll be ready whenever you want me."
He left. "Damn," Braune murmured under his breath.
"He'll be all right," Lathe said. "If he wasn't as tough as he is, I wouldn't have let him play this double-agent game in the first place. The best thing we can do for him now is to finish up here as quickly as possible and get back to Plinry."
"Where I trust the news about this Project Christmas will be good," Caine said.
"We all hope that," the comsquare agreed grimly.
"Well, then, let's get to it." Hawking sighed, standing up. "We're talking at least a couple of days of steady work here. Incidentally, anyone know where Kanai and Bernhard are?"
"They're over in the isolation ward, looking through the records there," Jensen said. "I can see the only door into the place through my window here, and they haven't left."
Lathe cocked an eyebrow. "You making a second career out of keeping track of them?" he asked mildly.
"Someone has to," Jensen replied.
"Point," Lathe admitted. "Okay—the job's yours. The rest of you, let's get to work."
—
"Try it now," Hawking grunted, wriggling his way back along the ceiling cable tray and dropping to the medical-lab floor.
Caine tapped in the password; a moment later a new directory appeared on his display. "I'm in," he announced. "I don't believe it, but I'm in."
Hawking shook his head as he stepped to Caine's side. "I don't believe it either, but I'm not too proud to accept gifts from the universe. Maybe Torch was smarter than we thought."
"Oh, I agree. Why take the risk of breaking into the command level when you can tap into the computer files through the medical system down here? What I'd like to know is how they physically got the storage disks upstairs into the readers."
"Maybe they found a back-door crawlway someone could use," the blackcollar said. "Maybe they got one of the remotes in there started. Or maybe the last Aegis survivors even left it set up this way.
Whichever, I'll be happy to take it."
"Yeah." Caine found a likely-looking file and accessed it. "Did we ever establish whether or not we'd recognize the Backlash formula if we do run across it?"
"I'll take any formula at all at this stage," Hawking replied candidly. "Four days in this hole has me just about at my limit. How the hell did they expect people to hold out here for years on end?"
"Having lights and companionship around would probably help," Caine said. "Look at this, will you?"
Hawking pulled over a chair and peered at the display. Caine expelled a tired breath and let his gaze drift to the lab's window. He hated to admit it, but four days in Aegis had about done him in, too.
The emptiness and silence were just too unnatural; the lack of light everywhere but the stairway and medical level was downright spooky. Only out in the open area between buildings—
His thoughts froze in mid-grumble. Braune was coming across the open area toward the lab complex at a dead run, and he looked worried. "Back in a minute," Caine told Hawking, getting out of his seat and heading out the door.
He met Braune at the building's entrance. "What's up?" he asked.
"Trouble," the other puffed. "Bernhard's attacked Jensen and gone into the stairwell."
"He what? Jensen all right?"
"I think so—Colvin's over with him now, by the stairway door. Jensen had me tapped as backup man, but I was too far away to help."
"Show me," Caine ordered. "Have you alerted Lathe?"