Helm did that, and I said “Hold it!” before he stepped out. The next instant a shot whang!ed off the outer hatch, followed by a fusillade. Helm stepped back, looking bewildered.
“My mistake, Lieutenant,” I said. “By now NSS has surrounded the warehouse the Ylokk were using as a reception depot, and are in position to attack any arriving Ylokk transport before it can discharge its troops. They don’t know who we are, of course.”
We rigged up a flag of truce and stuck it out. It was shot to pieces at once.
Then the firing stopped and I called: “Lay off! We’re friends!”
“Brion?” a voice called back. “Brion! Is it possible?” I recognized Manfred’s voice, but he sounded weak and uncertain. I stepped out into the big, empty warehouse. Armed NSS men stepped out of concealment, keeping me cornered. An old man rushed forward, and just before he embraced me I recognized him as Manfred.
“How long?” I managed to get out as he talked excitedly.
“―when you didn’t return after the agreed two weeks―”
“I don’t remember that,” I cut in. “But how long has it been? Barbro―”
“Brion, after…”
“Yes? After . . . what? How long?” I couldn’t seem to get through to him. He had aged; he was an old, old man, with bleary eyes and a few wisps of white hair. But after all, he’d been in his eighties when I saw him last. Clearly, he was having a hard time assimilating what was happening.
“ ‘How long?’ you ask, Brion,” he said at last, when he’d apparently accepted the reality of our presence. “It was eleven years, this month,” he told me, “since I sent you off to a terrible fate in Zone Yellow.”
“I have a lot to tell you, sir,” I said, “but first I want to see Barb. Where is she? Here in the city, I hope.”
“Of course you do,” he said, more calmly, giving my shoulder one final pat, as if to reassure himself I wasn’t an illusion. “Brion,” he said brokenly, “I must tell you; as well to do so at once. The lovely Barbro is not here.
“I apologize, Brion,” he went on, “for the rude reception. But you must understand―”
“Pretty dumb, barging in here unannounced,” I confessed. “How’s the war going?”
“The last, isolated pockets are surrendering as fast as we can get to them,” he said. “They seem disinclined to pursue the invasion.”
“It wasn’t really an invasion, sir,” I told him, “in the sense of seizing and holding territory. It was a slave raid.”
Richtofen gave me a strange look. “Then they’re not executing their captives…?”
“No, just putting them to work. What’s this about Barb not being here?”
“Tak Gud,” the old man sighed. I was surprised he’d be so emotional about it.
“I have nearly a hundred of the captives with me,” I said, hoping to relieve his distress, but he only gave me a wild look.
“I don’t suppose…?” he started, leaving me to wonder what he didn’t suppose.
“I’d like to go home, General,” I said a trifle impatiently. “I need a hot bath, and―”
“Brion,” he cut me off, “I have not been entirely candid with you. Barbro is not at home. She was captured, only a few days after your departure, while leading a raiding party to attack the Ylokk HQ. We had assumed she was dead. Brion, I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve made no effort to rescue her?” I demanded, sounding sharper than I meant to. He shook his head sadly. “After your supposed failure, Brion…” he said, and let it go at that. “But―” he resumed, brightening, “since you did not, in fact fail, we can―”
“General,” I cut in, impatient with all this conversation, “please prepare a two-man scout with armament B. I’m going alone. I know what to do.” Saying that reminded me of the little Empress, advancing so confidently to meet her fate. Manfred was protesting, and at the same time assuring me that a fine new shuttle would be at my disposal in an hour.
Epilogue
The trip in was routine, until I noticed a sudden dip in the continuum-integrity sensor, and looked out to see a familiar landscape: the dreary hills, the one road, and the cozy cottage, where I’d met Swft for the second time. I considered the matter in depth for a full microsecond, and phased-in.
I could see the marks in the muddy road where the traveler had settled in last time. How long ago was that, local? I wondered. There were footprints, too―the party that had shot Swft and hurried away―only now the trail led toward the high-tech “cottage.” The boys were still here, it appeared; there were no tracks leading away from the little house. I had a passing impulse to go over and check on what was afoot, but I had an urgent job to do, so I resumed my trip to Zone Yellow. There were still plenty of loose ends to tie up before I could report the situation stabilized.
I resisted the temptation to use the view-screen to monitor my progress across the Zone to its centroid at Ylokk. My instruments would tell me when I arrived, unobtrusively, in the alley behind the Skein shops. I’d paced off the distance, as nearly as I could remember, back in the Net Garage.
I checked. I was getting close: city streets. I didn’t really have any plan. I intended to play it by ear.
A few more minutes, and my sensors picked up something moving in the Net, close to me, pacing me. I slowed, and it slowed; when I went back to cruise it stayed with me. I tried some evasive action, phasing-in with a line picked at random; I saw it was very close to the nuclear A-line of the Ylokk, so I moved in carefully. Sure enough, his trace disappeared; he’d overshot me. That was a relief.
I nudged the shuttle across the last few feet and dropped it into identity. I needed some fresh air; no extended EVA this time, just a quick look, and off again. After overriding the safety interlocks, I cycled the hatch and looked out at a busy marketplace, where people haggled at open-air stalls. There were no rat-corpses and the stink was gone, replaced by a somewhat subtler stink of plain rat. There were no broken windows in sight, no roving bands of looters in the background.
“This means Minnie has consolidated her position and eliminated the Two-Law nuisance,” I told myself, glad to hear the news.
Apparently, in this line the warehouse had burned down; I had arrived out in the open. I noticed a fellow with a gray stripe down the back of his overcoat, and I stepped down on the wet cobbles and went over to him.
“Good day, Major,” I said in my best Ylokk. He jumped and gave me a searching look, then looked around rather wildly, I thought.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Whoever you are, you shouldn’t be here. If the local constabulary notice you―”
“They won’t, Major,” I reassured him, “unless you give me away. They’re busy shopping, and I’m just a strange-looking fellow talking to an officer.”
“Yes, of course, but―” He lowered his voice. “I am Major Hsp. Perhaps you’re not aware of the situation, sir,” he suggested. I agreed I wasn’t.
“The remnant of the Two-Law rebels have gone to earth here in this remote phase,” he explained. “They blame you humongs, excuse me, humans, for all their troubles, and―”
“Damn right,” I agreed. “Why didn’t Her Majesty’s troops hunt em all down?”
“There wasn’t time,” the major mourned. “We were rounding them up as quickly as we could, and this one crowd―a fanatical group known as the ‘Liberation Front,’ whatever that means―”
“Just silly malcontents’ jargon,” I told him. “How did they get past you?”
“They were well organized. Apparently they had spies in the palace and knew every move we made. A party of them got into the technical compound by night, and stole three transports; they shifted off-phase and established themselves in the park, where the rest of them waited. My fellows arrived just as the last of them were dropping out of identity. We traced them here easily enough. This line is very close to the Nuclear one; they’d prepared a refuge. They’ve gone underground, mingled with the local population, it seems. All we can do for the moment is keep matters under surveillance. However, we have found their transports and immobilized them. They’re trapped. The sudden appearance here of a human could destabilize the situation.”