Lathe sighed. "Look. Whatever we're planning, Security must have suspected by now that we intend to go off-planet. Now that we've gotten the vets away from them, the simplest way to stop us is to lock away all the spacecraft."
"Okay," Caine agreed. "But you broke into the 'port on Plinry easily enough."
"It only looked easy because we'd been planning it for thirty years and because we caught Galway off guard," the blackcollar countered. "Here we have neither advantage."
"So how do we gain by confirming what they already suspect?"
"We gain," Lathe said quietly, "by offering them something besides a draw. Five Novas would be a tremendous prize, and their best chance to get them is to let us lead the way."
Cain stared at him, noticing for the first time lines around his eyes that the Idunine treatments hadn't touched. "You understand what you're saying, don't you?" he said at last. "You're deliberately taking us into a trap."
"I know." Lathe's voice was soft, with none of the overflowing confidence that he seemed to have in front of the Argentians. "It's a borderline crazy thing to do, but the fact that we know there'll be a trap may give us the necessary edge. Anyway, I don't see what else we can do."
"Why not just make something up? Tell them we're going back to liberate Earth, for instance."
"Wouldn't work. The collies have to know there's a prize worth grabbing or they won't let us off-planet. Besides, it's only fair to let the vets know what they're getting into." The comsquare pushed back his chair and stood up.
"I suppose you're right." Caine stood, too, but put a restraining hand on Lathe's arm. "But there will be a way out of this trap, won't there?"
Lathe shrugged. "There's a way out of any trap. The real questions are whether we can find it in time and how much it'll cost to use it." A shadow passed across his face. "And whatever that cost is, you can bet it'll be paid in human life." He nodded toward the door. "Let's go."
Even with many of the cars and vans missing—out on reconnaissance patrols in the wake of the Cerbe operation, Caine learned—the garage was crowded. The Star Force vets generally looked to be in their thirties, evidence of consistent Idunine use through the years. Caine's opinion of Radix went up a grudging notch—it was unlikely that the government was voluntarily supplying them with the drug.
Tremayne had taken up a position on top of one of the remaining cars, and as Caine and the blackcollars started toward him held up a hand for silence. "I know you're all wondering what the hell's going on here," he said as the buzz of conversation faded. "I'm going to let the man who sprung you from Cerbe explain it: Blackcollar Comsquare Lathe, late of Plinry." He looked in Lathe's direction and gestured.
A lane began to open through the crowd, but Lathe followed it only to the nearest car, which he then mounted. Caine glanced at Tremayne, wondering if the other would be annoyed at Lathe's failure to join him. But all he saw was intense interest in the Radix leader's face as Lathe began to speak.
Lathe was clearly no orator; his straightforward rendition of the facts was without eloquence or grandeur... and yet Caine had rarely seen a crowd that size pay such close attention to a speaker. Even more than with the blackcollar group on Plinry, Caine could sense here a deep appreciation for what five Novas signified in actual strategic terms. Surreptitiously looking around the room, he caught several thoughtful nods and meaningful glances being exchanged between starmen. Not surprisingly, those tactical group members he could see seemed equally intrigued. Miles Cameron and Salli Quinlan, heads almost touching, were engaged in what was probably a discussion of the current Ryqril military strength; a few meters away, Fuess and fellow blackcollar Couturie were staring at Lathe with frowns so intense they were almost scowls. Bakshi's face, in contrast, was a thoughtful mask.
Lathe finished talking, and for a long moment the garage was filled with the silence of mental digestion. Then, across the room, another lane opened in the crowd and a tall, bulky man stepped forward, stopping midway between Lathe and Tremayne. He sent glances at both men, finally turned to the blackcollar. "Comsquare, I'm Commander Garth Nmura, senior Star Force officer here," he said, his voice rich with an accent Caine couldn't place. "I notice you stopped short of actually ordering us to assist you. Do you plan to give such an order; and if so, under what authority?"
"I'd prefer voluntary cooperation," Lathe said. "However, if necessary—" he gestured in Caine's direction— "my colleague, Allen Caine, has full military authority under General Kratochvil of Earth. I myself am in direct succession to General Lepkowski of Plinry Sector Command."
Nmura shrugged. "We have only your word for that."
"True. On the other hand, without secure communications, no authorization I could produce would be above suspicion."
"I know," Nmura nodded. "Understand—I'm not just being stubborn. You're asking us to put our lives and the safety of our families on the line, and I can't order that without something besides your unsupported word. For all we know, this could be some crazy entrapment scheme."
"Too subtle for collies," Kwon muttered near Caine's ear. Mordecai, on Caine's other side, grunted agreement.
"Besides which," Nmura continued, glancing back at Tremayne, "I get the impression Radix hasn't quite accepted you, either."
Lathe started to speak, but Tremayne unexpectedly cut in. "Not true, Commander," he said. "Our activity has been minimized at Comsquare Lathe's own request, for valid reasons. But their operation has always had our full support."
Caine looked at the other in surprise; but the sincerity in the Radix leader's voice was fully matched in his face. With an effort Caine kept his own expression neutral, wondering what Tremayne was up to.
Nmura seemed to have doubts, too. Once more he glanced between Lathe and Tremayne before addressing the latter. "Are you saying you've accepted Comsquare Lathe's credentials?"
"His best credentials are that he's a blackcollar comsquare. We accept him on that basis."
"I see," Nmura said slowly. He hesitated, and Caine had the sudden impression of a man trying to find wind direction on a calm day. "The main risks are still there, of course."
A few meters away a hand rose over the crowd. "Garth, can I say something?"
Nmura craned his neck to identify the speaker. "Sure, Rayd, go ahead."
"Well, it seems to me we've been sitting on our duffs long enough," Rayd said. His voice was strong and confident, that of a man used to casual leadership. "We've got a damn good chance here to really hit the Ryqril—and anybody who doesn't believe that should try to remember when blackcollars ever risked their necks on something hopeless." A murmur of approval was beginning to rise all around them, and Rayd raised his voice to compensate. "And I think we ought to remember how many times Radix has stuck their necks out to keep us in Idunine. Let's not give people the impression that the Star Force takes a free ride from anyone!"
The calm day was gone, and it was clear which way the wind was blowing. Raising his hand to silence the growing swell, Nmura nodded to Lathe. "It sounds like we have a consensus," he said dryly. "All right; you've got yourself a crew. When do we move?"
"Two or three days," Lathe said. "We'll need to get transport off-planet, and you need to organize into crews and start working out the necessary start-up procedures." He looked at Tremayne. "Can Radix put all these men up here for that long?"