Timothy Zahn - Blackcollar - The Blackcollar

Jensen said nothing. Apostoleris's shots were hitting uncomfortably close to the mark.

The prefect interpreted his silence correctly. "So," he almost purred. "We're not so cocky now, are we. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking?"

"Talk all you like. And don't expect to get anything of value from me."

"We'll see." Apostoleris glanced upwards. "Prepare number one," he called to some unseen ear.

"Not wasting any time, are you?" Jensen said as calmly as possible. "Not even going to give me the traditional hour to consider how much this is going to hurt?"

"As you said, we're short on time," the prefect said icily. "We'll start with the non-destructive forms at first, in case you decide to be reasonable. After that... well, there are some very painful things that can be done directly to the nervous system. Those have permanent effects, of course." He paused. "Anything you'd like to say before we begin?"

"How about 'go to hell'?"

Apostoleris shrugged. "When you change your mind, just shout. If you still can."

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the door behind them. Galway lingered just long enough to lock eyes with the blackcollar; then he, too, was gone and the door was slammed shut. Its reverberations were still audible when the lights went out, plunging Jensen into total darkness.

Blindness—standard psychological gambit, he thought grimly, even as his deeper mental processes began to trace the familiar pain-block pattern. Like nakedness. Depressants to civilized man. But he could handle anything they could throw at him, at least long enough for Lathe to finish the mission. After that—

But it was no use thinking that far ahead. Right now the only goal in the universe was to survive the first battle.

Without warning, a heavy electric shock ran up his left side. Gritting his teeth firmly to avoid biting his tongue, Jensen settled himself for the long fight ahead.

"A frontal assault is out of the question," Dael Valentine said as he eased the car up to a stoplight. "The building's got doubled guard stations inside the main door, antipersonnel defenses in the courtyard, and detection gear in the outer wall. We'd be cut to ribbons before we even got in. Surely your little reconnoiter showed you that much."

"What do you suggest, then?" Novak said quietly, and Skyler shifted uneasily in the back seat as he thought of the simmering volcano beneath that veneer of self-control.

"A soft penetration," Valentine said. "Lathe and O'Hara have already shown what an ID or ID code can do. Loyalty-conditioned minds just aren't flexible; you give them what they expect to see and they'll probably let you in."

"Fine," Skyler said, a bit tartly. "And how do we go about getting IDs? Caine's trick isn't likely to be practical here."

"True—but they can't be doing a complete computer check on everyone who enters. If we have IDs that accurately show our thumbprints and retinal patterns it'll probably do the trick."

Skyler frowned, considering. It was an interesting point. Unlike the setup in Calarand, all of Millaire's governmental functions were located in the same ten-story building. In their two-hour walking survey of the area, he and Novak had seen an astonishing variety of people passing in and out of the main gate, from obvious collie types to ordinary citizens—the latter, they'd noted, getting an armed escort across the courtyard. It might be barely possible. "If we had IDs, maybe."

"Good—because we can get them." Valentine made a left turn, sending them back toward Millaire's business district. "I wasn't just collecting gossip while you were out walking around. I also made contact with what's left of organized Radix here."

"And?" Novak prompted.

"And, there's an ID forger still loose."

Skyler hunched forward to get a better view of Valentine's face. "How good are these forgeries?" he asked.

"Just this side of perfect."

"But if there's nothing in the computer, why—?" Novak broke off his question as Skyler gently tapped tingler code onto the back of his neck.

"Why did I suggest it?" Valentine asked irritably. "I told you that—they won't be checking everyone that closely."

"It might work," Skyler said, thinking fast. "Any chance of getting some explosives, too?"

Valentine glanced back at him. "What do you want explosives for?"

"Diversion. We could set off some explosions in the area, draw as many Security men as possible outside the wall to investigate. If we then blasted a hole in the wall, they'd presumably assume the place was being attacked and rush back in, with or without quick ID checks—and we'd go in with them."

"Yeah... that might work," Valentine said after a short pause. "When do we hit—nightfall?"

"Or a few hours later," Skyler said. "Let's find this forger and the explosives before we decide that. The explosives first," he added. "If the forger's place is being watched we'll want something to fight our way out with."

"You're the boss," Valentine agreed, turning right at the next corner. "I know who to talk to; we can be there in five minutes."

Skyler settled back in the seat and threw a look upwards. The rain of the night before had ended, but dark clouds still blanketed the sky. Skyler hoped they would stay put; a heavy cloud cover would hasten the darkness and let them make their attempt a little earlier. Even so, it would be at least six hours before they could go in.

He hoped Jensen could hold on that long.

The big conference room table looked empty with just Tremayne and Bakshi sitting at it. Following Lathe's lead, Caine pulled out a chair across from them and sat down, almost wishing that he'd waited outside the room with Mordecai and Kwon. After what had just happened at Cerbe, this was probably going to be a memorable tongue-lashing.

But he was in for a surprise. "For someone who talks so much about obedience, Lathe, you're pretty lax about it yourself," Tremayne said, his tone almost mild. "What do we have to do to be accepted into your confidence?"

"I gather the vets arrived safely?" Lathe asked.

Tremayne nodded. "Janus Leader Rhodes brought the last of them in about twenty minutes ago."

"Good. I suppose I should mention that we used Lianna Rhodes because she said she was going to resign from Radix."

"Yes, I'd already figured that one out. Cute, even for you—you only promised to consult with me if the operation involved Radix personnel." For a moment Tremayne's eyes flashed sparks. "That's marginal at best, you know—whatever her future plans, Rhodes is in Radix right now."

"Marginal, hell." Bakshi's voice was cold; for a change he seemed madder than Tremayne. "You violated our agreement, pure and simple. Can you give me one good reason why we shouldn't dump you out on the streets right now—you and that mob of security risks you've brought in?"

"Wait a second; we can't do that," Tremayne cut in. "The vets have technically broken prison—Apostoleris will slap heavy sentences on them if he catches them again. And as to the blackcollars, they did achieve their goal."

Bakshi snorted. "So you're not going to argue with success? Well, I am. It was a half-assed stunt, and it was sheer luck it worked at all."

"There was nothing half-assed about it," Lathe disagreed quietly. "Everything we did was carefully planned, from my trip into Henslowe on. Surely you recognize the impossibility of getting that many men out of a prison without tremendous casualties. We had to persuade Security to move them for us, and we did."

"Hindsight is marvelous," Bakshi growled.

"And as to a reason—yes, I can give you a damn good one." Lathe looked at Tremayne. "Have you got a room big enough for me to talk to all the vets at once?"