F. Wilson - An Enemy of the State

The door to his apartment was to the right and slid open when it recognized his palm. He saw Salli sitting in a chair straight ahead of him, watching the vid. She gasped and rose to her feet when she saw him, but did not come forward. So Stafford went to her.

“You're all right?” he asked, slipping his arms slowly, hesitantly around her. Her coolness puzzled him. “How did you possibly survive all this alone?”

“I managed.” Her eyes kept straying away from his.

“What's the matter?”

Salli's gaze had come to rest at a point over his right shoulder. He turned. Two members of the Imperial Guard were approaching from the inner corner of the room, weapons drawn.

“Vincen Stafford?” said the one in the lead. “We've been waiting for you. You're under arrest for crimes against the Imperium.”

“WE'VE GOT THE PILOT, SIR.”

It was all Haworth could do to keep from shouting with joy. But he had to maintain his bearing. After all, this was just a callow trooper on the screen. “Very good. Where is he?”

“Here at his apartment with us.”

“You mean you haven't brought him to the Complex yet?” He heard his voice rising.

“We were told to call you directly as soon as he was in custody, sir.” True-he had demanded that. “All right. How many with you now?”

“Just one other.”

“Did he resist at all?”

“No, sir. He just walked in and we arrested him.”

Haworth considered the situation. As much as he wanted to interrogate that pilot, he doubted the wisdom of allowing a pair of unseasoned Imperial Guards to escort him in. Who'd have ever thought he'd be stupid enough to return to his own apartment?

“Wait there until I send an extra squad to back you up. I don't want any slip-ups.”

“Very well, sir.” The guardsman didn't seem to mind. He didn't want any slip-ups either.

Haworth arranged for the extra squad to go to Stafford's apartment, then he turned to Metep and clapped his hands.

“This is the night! We've already got the pilot, and within the hour Robin Hood will be in custody, too!”

“What's taking so long with Robin Hood?” Metep asked. His words were slurred from the excess inhalant in his system.

“I'm not leaving a single thing to chance with him. All the city maps have been combed for any possible underground escape route. Every building around the warehouse is being taken over by Imperial Guards; every street is being blocked; even the air space over that building is being sealed off. When we finally close the trap, not even an insect will get through unless we let it. This is it, Jek! Tonight we start getting things under control again.”

Metep VII smiled foggily and put the open end of the vial to his nose again. “That's nice.”

THE DOOR CHIMED and one of the two Imperial Guardsmen approached it warily. It was much too early for the backup squad to arrive. The viewer set in the door revealed two rather plain-looking middle-aged men on the other side. They kept shuffling around, turning their heads back and forth. “

We know you're in there, Mr. Stafford, and we want our money.” The guardsman wasn't sure which one of them spoke. They kept wandering in and out of the range of the viewer.

“Go away! Stafford is under arrest.”

There was laughter on the other side. “Now that's a new one!”

“It's true. This is a member of the Imperial Guard speaking.”

More laughter. “We'll have to see that to believe it!”

The guard angrily cycled the door open. “Now do you-”

He was suddenly on the floor and a figure was vaulting through the door, a stunner aimed at the other guard's head. There was no sound from the attacker, the guard, or the weapon, but the guard closed his eyes and joined his comrade on the floor.

“If you wish to go with them, you may,” said the bland-looking male invader in a female voice as the pistol was holstered. “We are only here to give you a choice. Someone is offering you and your mate a safe place if you want it. Otherwise, you may wait until they regain consciousness.”

“We'll go with you,” Stafford said without hesitation.

“Vin!” It was Salli.

He turned to her. “It's all right. We'll be safer with them than with anybody else. I know who they are.”

Salli made no reply. She merely clung to him, looking physically exhausted and emotionally drained. She watched as the two newcomers closed the apartment door and arranged the two guardsmen neatly on the floor.

BROOHNIN FLOATED IN THE CHUTE, holding his position with a foot and a hand each hooked into a safety rung. Popping his head into the hall, he took a quick look up and down, then arched back into the chute. He had no idea what lay on the other side of Stafford's apartment door, but he had to go through. He had to be sure Stafford had not told what he knew-would never tell what he knew.

As he prepared to thrust himself into the hall, he heard the whisper of a door cycling open…it came from the direction of Stafford's apartment. Broohnin had two options: he could let go of the rungs and float up to the next floor, or he could step out and confront whoever it was.

He chose the latter. If nothing else, he'd have surprise and a drawn weapon on his side. Placing his right foot flat against the rear wall of the chute, he gave a kick and catapulted himself into the hall.

Broohnin almost vomited when he saw Stafford's escort. The holosuit images were all too familiar to him. But it was too late to do anything but act.

“Stop right there!” he said, pointing the blaster at the middle of the pilot's chest. “Another step and he dies!”

They stopped. All four of them-the pilot, a woman, and the two Flinters flanking them. “What is wrong with you, Broohnin?” said a male voice that appeared to be coming from the left: Josef's voice. “There's a squad of Imperial Guard on its way here now. Let us by without any further trouble.”

“I'll let three of you by,” Broohnin said warily, watching the Flinters for any sign of movement. He was far enough away that no one could reach him before he fired, and he was too close to miss if he did. He had to play this scene very carefully. There would be time for only one blast; the Flinters would be on him after that. The blast would have to kill the pilot, and then Broohnin would have to drop his weapons immediately. There was a chance they'd let him live then, and return to LaNague, who would do nothing, as usual. But at least the pilot would be dead. The thing he had to be absolutely sure not to do was to hit one of the Flinters with the blast, because there was no telling what the other one would do when he or she got hold of him.

“What do you mean, ‘three’?” It was Kanya's voice.

“The pilot's got to die.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” Josef said. “He's decided to stay with us. We're taking him back to LaNague.”

“I don't care what he's decided or where you're taking him. He could change his mind and walk out again…or Metep could publicly offer him a huge reward if he turns himself in.” Broohnin shook his head. “No…can't risk it. He could ruin everything. You know that.”

Broohnin didn't realize what had happened until it was too late. While he was talking, the Flinters had edged closer and closer to Stafford and his wife. Then, with one quick sideward step from each, they had placed themselves in front of the couple, completely eclipsing Broohnin's intended target.

“Don't do that! Move aside!”

“Best to give us the weapon, Broohnin,” Kanya said. Moving in unison, they began to approach him, one slow step after another.

“I'll fire!” he said, aching to retreat but finding himself rooted to the floor. “I'll kill you both, and then him!”