“Fiben—”
“Shut up. Oh, it was appealing, all right, to imagine some chims were smart enough to be pulling runs to Cilmar and back, right under the enemy’s beak! Vanity almost won, Sylvie. But I was once a scout pilot, remember? I started thinking about how hard that’d be to pull off, even in weather like this!”
He sniffed the air, and there it was again, that distinct musty odor.
Now that he thought about it, he realized that none of the tests he and Gailet had been put through, during the last several weeks, had dealt with the sense of smell. Of course not. Galactics think it’s mostly a relic for animals.
Moisture fell onto his hand, even though it was not raining just then. Sylvie’s tears dripped. She shook her head.
“You… won’t … be harmed, Fiben. The Suz — Suzerain just wants to ask you some questions. Then you’ll be let go! It … It promised!”
So this was just another test, after all. Fiben felt like laughing at himself for ever believing escape was possible. I guess I’ll see Gailet again sooner than I thought.
He was beginning to feel ashamed of the way he had terrorized Sylvie. After all, this had all been just a “game” anyway. Simply one more examination. It wouldn’t do to take anything too seriously under such conditions. She was only doing her job.
He started to relax, easing his grip on her throat, when suddenly part of what Sylvie had said struck Fiben.
“The Suzerain said it’d let me go?” he whispered. “You mean it’ll send me back to jail, don’t you?”
She shook her head vigorously. “N-no!” she mouthed.
“It’ll drop us off in the mountains. I meant that part of my deal with you and Gailet! The Suzerain promised, if you answer its questions—”
“Wait a minute,” Fiben snapped. “You aren’t talking about the Suzerain of Propriety, are you?”
She shook her head.
Fiben felt suddenly lightheaded. “Which… Which Suzerain is waiting for us out there?”
Sylvie sniffed. “The Suzerain of Cost and … of Cost and Caution,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes in the dreadful realization of what this meant. This was no “game” or test, after all. Oh, Goodall, he thought. Now he had to think to save his own neck!
If it had been the Suzerain of Beam and Talon, Fiben would have been ready to throw in the towel right then and there. For then all of the resources of the Gubru military machine would have been arrayed against him. As it was, the chances were slim enough. But Fiben was starting to get ideas.
Accountants. Insurance agents. Bureaucrats. Those made up the army of the Suzerain of Cost and Caution. Maybe, Fiben thought. Just maybe.
Before doing anything, though, he had to deal with Sylvie. He couldn’t just tie her up and leave her. And he simply wasn’t a bloody-minded killer. That led to only one option. He had to win her cooperation, and quickly.
He might tell her of his certainty that the Suzerain of Cost and Caution wasn’t quite the stickler for truth the Suzerain of Propriety was. When it was its word against hers, why should the bird keep any promise to release them?
In fact, tonight’s raid on its peer might even be illegal, by the invaders’ standards, in which case it would be stupid to let two chims who knew about it run around free. Knowing the Gubru, Fiben figured the Suzerain of Cost and Caution would probably let them go, all right — straight out an airlock into deep space.
Would she believe me, though, if I told her?
He couldn’t chance that. Fiben thought he knew another way to get Sylvie’s undivided attention. “I want you to listen to me carefully,” he told her. “I am not going out to meet your Suzerain. I am not going out there for one simple reason. If I walk out there, knowing what I now know, you and I can kiss my white card goodbye.”
Her eyes locked onto his. A tremor ran down her spine.
“You see, darlin’. I have to behave like a superlative example to chimpdom in order to qualify for that encomium. And what kind of superchimp goes and walks right into somethin’ he already knows is a trap? Hmm?
“No, Sylvie. We’ll probably still get caught anyway. But we’ve gotta be caught tryin’ our very best to escape or it just won’t count! Do you see what I mean?”
She blinked a few times, and finally nodded.
“Hey,” he whispered amiably. “Cheer up! You should be glad I saw through this stunt. It just means our kid’ll be all the more clever a little bastard. He’ll probably find a way to blow up his kindergarten.”
Sylvie blinked. Hesitantly, she smiled. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess that’s right.”
Fiben let his knife hand drop away and released Sylvie’s throat. He stood up. This was the moment of truth. All she probably had to do was let out a shout and the followers of the Suzerain of Cost and Caution would be on them in moments.
Instead, though, she pulled off her ring watch and handed it to Fiben. The tracer.
He nodded and offered her his hand to help her rise. She stumbled at first, still trembling from reaction. But he kept his arm around her as he led her back one block and a little south.
Now, if only this idea works, he thought.
The dovecote was where he remembered it, behind an ill-kempt group house in the neighborhood bordering the harbor. Everyone was asleep apparently. But Fiben nevertheless kept quiet as possible as he cut a few wires and crept into the coop.
It was dank and smelled uncomfortably of bird. The pigeons’ soft cooing reminded Fiben of Kwackoo.
“Come on, kids,” he whispered to them. “You’re gonna help me fool your cousins, tonight.”
He had recalled this place from one of his walks. The proximity was more than convenient, it was probably essential. He and Sylvie dared not leave the harbor area until they had disposed of the tracer.
The pigeons edged away from him. While Sylvie kept watch, Fiben cornered and seized a fat, strong-looking bird. With a piece of string he bound the ring watch to its foot. “Nice night for a long flight, don’t ya think?” he whispered, and threw the pigeon into the air. He repeated the process with his own watch, for good measure.
He left the door open. If the birds returned early, the Gubru might follow the tracer signal here. But their typically noisy arrival would send the whole flock flapping off again, starting another wild goose chase.
Fiben congratulated himself on his cleverness as he and Sylvie ran eastward, away from the harbor. Soon they were in a dilapidated industrial area. Fiben knew where he was. He had been here before, leading the placid horse, Tycho, on his first foray into town after the invasion. Sometime before they reached the wall, he signaled for a stop. He had to catch his breath, though Sylvie seemed hardly winded at all.
Well, she’s a dancer, of course, he thought.
“Okay, now we strip,” he told her.
To her credit, Sylvie did not even bat an eye. The logic was inescapable. Her watch might not have been the only tracer planted on their person. She hurried through the disrobing and was finished before him. When everything lay in a pile, Fiben spared her a brief, appreciative whistle. Sylvie blushed. “Now what?” she asked.
“Now we go for the fence,” he answered.
“The fence? But Fiben—”
“C’mon. I’ve wanted to look at the thing close up for some time anyway.”
It was only a few hundred yards farther before they reached the broad strip of ground the aliens had leveled all the way around Port Helenia. Sylvie shivered as they approached the tall barrier, which glistened damply under the light of bright watch globes placed at wide intervals along its length.
“Fiben,” Sylvie said as he stepped out onto the strip. “We can’t go out there.”
“Why not?” he asked. Still, he stopped and turned to look back at her. “Do you know anyone who has?”