Lathe shrugged. "We meet Kanai, as we promised. We perhaps get a little closer to the key we need to finish our mission, one way or another. And if the cards fall right, we might even pick up another ally."
Reger snorted. "As trustworthy as Kanai and Bernhard?"
"And as trustworthy as you," Lathe said bluntly. "You can take your pick."
The older man eyed him in silence for a long moment. Then, turning, he left the room. "Hell of a way to run a circus," Skyler murmured.
"Agreed, but untrustworthy allies are all we're likely to get in this town," Lathe said. There was another footstep at the door, and he turned to see Caine enter the room. "How's your team doing?" he asked the younger man.
"Resting," Caine said, an odd stiffness in his voice. "I think this is the safest they've felt since we landed, and they're taking advantage of it."
"Just as long as they don't come to feel too safe here," the comsquare said dryly. "We should be all right for a few hours, though, at the very least. Was there something in particular you wanted?"
Caine hesitated. "I'd like to have a private word with you, Comsquare, if I may."
"Sure," Lathe agreed, getting to his feet. They'd been at Reger's now for nearly two hours, and he'd been wondering when Caine would finally get around to this confrontation. "Let's go out back and see how Hawking's tracking placements look."
They walked in silence until they were out of the house and heading across the sculpted lawn.
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Caine asked at last.
Lathe shrugged. "If you have a complaint against a superior, it's up to you to bring it to his attention."
"Even when he knows perfectly well what it is?" Caine countered.
"Even then. It's standard military etiquette and procedure—besides which, sometimes you're wrong about the officer's knowing about your grievance."
"Not in this case, though."
"No," Lathe admitted.
They walked another few steps before Caine spoke again. "I'd like an explanation, if you've got one."
"In its simplest form, I thought we might be needed."
Caine snorted. "If we're that incompetent, why did you graduate us in the first place?"
Lathe pursed his lips. "This may come as a rude shock, but the blackcollar school on Plinry isn't designed to create indestructible superwarriors. It's designed to turn out reasonably competent guerrilla fighters in reasonably quick time. Period. You've been granted no particular immunity from enemy attacks or unexpected changes in climate or even lapses in tactical logic. The mean survival time in enemy territory of a team like yours is probably measured in weeks or even days."
"So what's our real purpose? To make the government waste time and resources chasing us down?"
Lathe winced at the bitterness in the other's voice. "To be blunt, at some level the answer is yes. Of course we don't want any of you to be captured, but the only way to avoid that entirely is not to send anyone out in the first place."
"And as you've so often reminded us, this is war."
Lathe sighed. "Yes. I remind myself as often as I remind you, if that helps any. I've lost a lot of friends to this war over the years, you know. If I could find a rationale that I could live with for giving it up, I'd probably have done so long ago."
Caine was silent for a long minute. "I'm trying very hard to be mad at you," he said at last, "but you're not making that easy, either. Maybe because I've seen what it's like now to send my own men on missions they might not come back from."
"It'll be worse the first time you actually lose one of them."
"Yeah. I've already come closer than I like." Caine paused. "So... asking the question nicely this time, why are you here? Really?"
Lathe shrugged. "On the most noble level, because your mission sounded like something that would make an incredible contribution to the war effort if it succeeded. On the most petty personal level..."
He hesitated. "It looked like the only chance I'd ever have of retiring from the war someday."
He hadn't expected Caine to understand, at least not immediately; but to his mild surprise, the younger man nodded. "A chance to finally lay the burden onto the next generation's shoulders. Is that it?"
"Basically," Lathe said. "And as I said, the mean life of a guerrilla team in hostile territory is short.
With two teams working together, the odds are considerably better."
"So why didn't you simply come right out and invite yourselves along? Why the backshadow skulking routine?"
"Well... frankly, I hoped to avoid having this conversation. It was supposed to be your mission, and I knew you'd resent anything that looked like interference from me." There was another reason, but for the moment it was best that Caine didn't know that one. He'd be furious when he found out, but there was nothing the comsquare could really do about that.
"So what happens now? Organizationally, I mean?"
Lathe brought his mind back from Project Christmas to the subject at hand. "That's entirely up to you. If you want, we'll fade back into the shadows, play backstop if and when you need it, and otherwise let you run the show. Alternatively, you can add us to your team, and we'll do our best to carry out your orders."
Caine snorted. "Oh, that would be a new classic, wouldn't it? Blackcollars taking orders from recruits. What's the third alternative? There is a third one, isn't there?"
Lathe pursed his lips. "I take over. Pure and simple."
"I thought that would be it." Caine stopped, turning to look behind him at Reger's mansion. "So what would you do if you were me?" he asked the comsquare. "Maintain the role of leader whatever the cost, or lose face before your teammates by meekly turning over command to someone else?"
"If I were also your age? Probably the former. At my age, and with the experience that goes with it, I'd say to hell with face. The mission is what counts."
"And of course you'd also counsel taking the advice of the experts in any given field, wouldn't you?"
Lathe glanced at Caine, caught the wisp of a smile on the other's face. "Yes, I suppose I would," he admitted.
Slowly, the younger man nodded his head. "I've been afraid ever since we left Plinry of looking weak as a leader," he said softly. "I'd never done anything like this before. But I think I'm even more afraid of looking like a fool... and throwing away the best leadership available for my team would be a foolish thing to do." He hissed a sigh between his teeth. "All right, Comsquare. I hereby officially offer my command to you."
"I accept," Lathe said, but he could see the tight lines gathered around Caine's mouth. It would be a long time before the younger man would be happy with that decision. If he ever truly was. "Let's get back inside and let the others know. We've still got a lot of planning to do before we head out to the Shandygaff tonight."
"You're really going through with that?"
Lathe nodded. "I'm afraid it's a gamble we have to take. Time is running out, and we've got to find a lever to pry out the information we need. One way or another, we start building that lever tonight."
Chapter 19
Honor.
The word echoed over and over again through Kanai's mind as he sat alone at his booth in the Shandygaff. A five-letter curse; a two-syllable question which had no answer. Honor. Honor.
Honorhonorhonor—
Stop it! Shaking his head violently, he snapped the mental loop. The philosophy of his ancestors wouldn't help him now, either as a source of advice or as a refuge from action. What was about to happen was taking place in Denver in the year 2461; and he, Kanai, was the man who would have to live with his decision... or would have to die with it.
Across the room, Briller was talking quietly with one of Nash's other henchmen near the doorway to the bar's anteroom. The tip had come down about two hours ago, as nearly as Kanai's reading of events could place it, and for almost an hour now they'd been poised and ready. An obvious sucker trap... and it wasn't hard to guess who it was for.