Timothy Zahn - Blackcollar - The Judas Solution

"I wasn't suggesting we let the blackcollars actually take them," Poirot assured him. "I'm sure we can keep any rescue attempt from succeeding."

"The general does have a point," Bailey said. "It might prove useful to keep him in their good graces as long as possible. Besides, if we can delay the transfer another day or so, we'll have learned pretty much everything they can tell us anyway. It might be worth the risk to use them bait."

Again, the two Ryqril huddled into a private conversation. "'Ery rell," Daasaa said. "Yae rill nake 'lans tae trans'er the re'els. They rill lea' Athena the night akhter taenorror."

"As you command, Your Eminence," Poirot said. Finally; they were listening to reason. "I'll have the orders cut—"

"Not yae," Halaak said. "Colonel 'Ailey rill connand."

Even though he'd been half expecting it, it was still a shock. "As you command, Your Eminence," Poirot said again, his throat tight.

Daasaa inclined his head fractionally. "Go."

Neither Poirot nor Bailey spoke until they were back in the situation room, with the door to the conference room firmly shut behind them. "I'm sorry about this, General," Bailey apologized.

"No, you're not," Poirot said sourly. "But I can't really blame you. Or them. I just wish there was some way I could prove to you that I'm still loyal."

"I wish there were, too," Bailey said. "But until we come up with something... Look, why don't you head down to the infirmary and have yourself checked out? You were right; I really should have done that before bringing you up here."

"I'd rather get started on the plans for the prisoner transfer." He eyed Bailey. "You will accept my assistance on that, won't you?"

"Of course, sir," Bailey said. "But there'll be time for that after the doctors have checked you over."

Poirot grimaced. But it was clear that the other wasn't going to budge on this one. "As you command," he said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "I'll be back soon."

He was halfway across the situation room when a pair of Security men detached themselves from the wall and fell quietly into step behind him.

But again, there was nothing he could do about it. With loyalty-conditioning, he reflected grimly, a man always knew who he could trust. Without it, how could anyone know anything?

But there was one thing he did know. Skyler would pay for this. He would pay dearly.

Ramirez was waiting by the spotter command console. "Well?" Bailey asked as he walked up.

"They're on their way back," Ramirez confirmed. "We've been in contact with each of the pilots, and they all appear to be our people. Interesting footnote: one of the search teams reports they found a section of drop pod that hadn't deployed."

Bailey frowned. "Someone was killed?"

"No, it hadn't deployed because there was apparently no one using that section," Ramirez explained.

"With one slot empty, one man doubling as two, and three of them now in Denver—"

"We have a match on our numbers," Bailey said. "So there is just one blackcollar loose in the mountains."

"Which fits with what General Poirot said," Ramirez reminded him. "You think he could be telling the truth about still being loyal?"

"I don't know," Bailey said with a helpless shrug. "Maybe he just gave us the number knowing it's something we'd have been able to chase down on our own anyway."

"Though they certainly went to some trouble making the one man look like two," Ramirez said.

"Unless that was just a giveaway," Bailey said, scowling at the back of the spotter controller's head. This was getting way too complicated for his liking.

"The searchers will keep at it," Ramirez promised. "Speaking of which, I was thinking it might be a good idea to rotate everyone through the Boulder office, even people from Athena. Make sure there aren't any imposters mixed in before we send them trooping back through your gate."

"Good idea," Bailey agreed. "Go ahead and give the orders."

"I already have, sir."

"I see," Bailey said, an odd sensation creeping up his back. "Well. Good."

"We should know about everyone by midnight at the latest," Ramirez went on. "Was anything else decided in there after I left?"

"We're going to pretend General Poirot's genuinely a traitor," Bailey said, studying the other's face. "He and I are going to work out a plan to transfer the Phoenix prisoners to Colorado Springs forty-eight hours from now and see if we can lure the blackcollars out from under their rock."

"All right," Ramirez said slowly. "If you do capture them, you'll be bringing them back here?"

"Yes, we will," Bailey growled, wincing at the memories. "And you can rest assured it will not end up like the last time."

"I hope not, sir," Ramirez said evenly. "What would you like me to do next?"

"What do you want to do next?" Bailey countered.

A hint of a frown crossed Ramirez's forehead. "Whatever you need, Colonel," he said, sounding a little puzzled. "I'm just here to help out."

"Of course," Bailey murmured. "In that case, why don't you head up to Interrogation and see if they've been able to dig out anything new."

"Yes, sir." Turning, Ramirez headed across the room at a brisk walk.

Bailey watched until he'd disappeared out the door, then crossed over to the tech at the comm station. "I want you to contact the Boulder Security office," he told the other quietly. "Get me the names and files of everyone on duty there tonight."

"Yes, sir," the tech said, frowning briefly up at him. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Not really," Bailey said, trying to sound casual. "I just want to know who's up there. In case something goes wrong."

The tech's lip twitched as he turned back to his board. "Yes, sir."

"And after you do that," Bailey went on, "have someone pull Lieutenant Ramirez's file and send it down to Analysis. I want to know if there've been any reports of peculiar behavior over the past year."

He looked over at the door. "In particular, whether or not he's had any long, unexplained absences."

The woods were dark by the time the lights of Shelter Valley began to wink at them through the trees.

"Where exactly is this sensor pylon?" Flynn whispered.

"About ten meters that way," Adamson murmured back, pointing ahead and to the left. "Don't worry—

there's no audio pickup."

"What about the rest of the townspeople?" Jensen asked, his voice sounding strained. "Will they all be indoors?"

"I'll keep an eye out," Adamson said. "I'm thinking that maybe you should go straight to Toby's place instead of stopping at the house—it's a lot more private. I can collect my gear and treat you up there."

Flynn looked down at Jensen. He hadn't complained during the trip, but Flynn could tell that the swaying and bouncing were taking their toll. Now Adamson wanted them to extend the trip another half hour or more? "What do you think?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," Jensen said, clearly working hard to filter the pain out of his voice. "Assuming your arms can hold out that long."

"Our arms are fine," Flynn assured him. "Lead on, Trapper."

Even by Plinry standards the twenty or so haphazardly scattered houses that made up Shelter Valley hardly qualified as a town. Fortunately, as Adamson had predicted, everyone was already indoors. They passed between the houses like shadows, and twenty meters past the last house they reached another path. There Adamson doubled back, and Trapper and Flynn headed up.

It was the steepest patch of ground they'd hit yet, and by the time the slope began to level out Flynn's legs were trembling with fatigue. Fortunately, that was the worst of it, and he made it the rest of the way without the embarrassment of having to call for a break.