Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 22

"As soon as-" A hand grasped her shoulder; she looked around to see Parnell. He cut the outside circuit. "Parnell, I-"

"I caught the gist of it, I think. You don't have to go down there, if I order you not to."

Almost too fast to follow, her thoughts went. Then she saw how it was, all this.

"Her alongside me, I'm safe enough. Safe as anybody else of us, right now. So I bet- ter-"

"A moment." He made the speakers live again. "Captain Parnell speaking. And to whom, may I ask?" Out of screen view his hand pointed to the master chronometer.

Ten minutes to liftoff! Zelde looked at him, and thought she understood.

Torra Defose identified herself. ". . . and presently, Adjutant and Executive Officer of Police for this settlement. Now-will M'tana meet me at the airlock, as I've asked?"

Parnell's look told Zelde nothing, but she nodded. To the woman outside, he said, "Yes. At this point, she'll do the liaison. Wait where you are until she arrives at the airlock."

"Very well, Captain-and thank you."

181.

Zelde reached to embrace Parnell. First he flinched away; then he held her. "Be careful, Zelde. I wish I knew-"

"Me, too. But whatever this is, Ragir, seems like it's something I got to do." They let go of each other; she left Control and headed downship.

She recognized the airlock guard, all right-shorter than she was, red-faced, usually looking cheerful but not now. Left-handed, he made a welcoming gesture. His right hand was behind him, out of sight-and she didn't see his gun, either. She shook her head. "No. One handgun won't win this. Put it away." He looked as if she'd slapped him, but followed orders.

Zelde stepped to the ramp's head and looked out. Torra Defose stood at the foot of it. Beside her was one armed, helmeted member of the Police; the other three were s.p.a.ced between the ship and the car.

Defose was looking up; Zelde raised her voice to carry. "Captain says, come up now-and bring the paper you said about. I'll look at it here-all right?"

Below, the woman nodded. "That far, I'll come alone. From there, regarding any problems that arise, I'll give the orders." And moving quick but not looking hurried, Defose climbed the ramp. Then, facing Zelde, the Policewoman held out a sheaf of papers and stepped inside. "You wanted to see these, I believe." Zelde took the packet, and looked at several sheets.

She couldn't concentrate; none of it made sense. She started to shake her head, but stopped herself from that. Say something! "I-your papers pa.s.s, for now. Subject to captain's review." She felt pressure at her armpits; sweat ran.

Defose put the folder back in her shoulder bag. She turned to the guard. "You're not needed here; you're relieved. Officer M'tana is in charge."

The man looked from one woman to the other. Zelde saw him tensing, and said, "It's all right. You go up and guard from the next landing. n.o.body comes in through this airiock unless I say so-or the captain does."

The man left. Defose said, "You did that well-putting him out of my car's line of fire." Then she showed a small, thick-barreled needle gun. "But now / do the talking."

182.

Zelde's hand twitched toward her knife. "Don't. You can't be fast enough."

Holding her stance, Zelde grinned. "Maybe not. This steel crate we're in, though, it's no place for shooting that thing. You miss, like as not you catch it right back, yourself."

Impatient, the Policewoman moved her head. "I know that; our risks are equal, here. Now let me speak to your captain."

"You have that pleasure." Parnell's voice. Over the intercom, the strain didn't show-but it had to be there. "I thought I knew Police procedures. With all due respect, do you suppose you might tell me what this is all about?"

As though he could see her, the woman nodded. "I'm bringing you a change of orders. Your Second Officer is hostage here, to see that you follow them."

Without sound, Zelde sighed. Did this one really think that any person weighed against the ship! She shifted position slightly-and hoped she was faster than Defose expected.

But Parnell kept talking, as though nothing was wrong. "Why couldn't the commandant-or Verrane, his administrator-simply call me? Are the circuits out of order? Perhaps I should check."

"No! Those orders didn't come through the commandant. And you will not contact Verrane, or else-"

Parnell still talked mild; Zelde couldn't see why. "I see no need for threats, surely. Why, I don't even know the situation as yet-what it is that I'm supposed to do."

"Then listen. My troops haven't been informed, either- I'll tell you all now." She unslung the bullhorn and raised it. "Sergeant Hallsey-squad-here's your mission.

Orders, direct from Commandant Horster at Summit Bay. I'm taking this ship there, directly, as soon as it can lift. Sergeant-take the car well outside the safety perimeter. From this moment, no one enters or leaves the Great Khan. When the ramp closes, it stays closed-or you shoot. Two of you place yourselves to guard against outside intrusion-the car will shield you from liftoff blast. Any questions?"

She paused; no answer came. Car and foot troops moved back. When they pa.s.sed the marked perimeter, Defose said, "All right, Captain Parnell. Lift the ramp and 183.

close ship. And advise me-of your soonest possible liftoff time."

Until the ramp closed, Parnell said nothing. Then he spoke. "Defose-you're cut off now, from outside."

"I know that. And-"

"And liftoff-scheduled before your arrival-is about two minutes from now. But not to Summit Bay. Ship's people, hostages?" His voice choked off. "Zelde, I'm sorry! I should have-"

Zelde glanced at the gun, then at the woman's eyes. "Parnell, love-I knew the chances."

Hoa.r.s.e now, he spoke again. "Defose, you can't boss this ship-accept the fact. But if you harm Zelde M'tana-"

Zelde braced herself. Now? But watching the other's face-on a hunch, she waited.

Defose said, "You don't understand, Parnell. I-"

"Then tell me. Time's short-for all of us."

And the woman smiled. "It's simple. I wasn't sure, at first-but you're Escaped, aren't you? And now, so am 1. Sorry about the pressure play, but it was the only way I could think of, to get aboard." And she handed Zelde the gun.

Liftoff alarm drowned out Parnell's answer. Zelde grabbed the other woman. "Lie down-quick!"

The deck was hard, but Lera Tzane didn't jar it much.

Fighting atmosphere, the Great Khan shuddered. The shaking had barely ceased when Parneil came in the airlock. When he saw Zelde holding the gun, he put his own away and dismissed the guard behind him.

Looking strangely uncertain, Torra Defose said, "Captain-"

He shook his head. "I'm not angry; I don't have time for that. And we're away free and clear, so no harm done. But you can't expect me to take your story at face value just yet."

She frowned. "Why-oh yes, I see. You think it may be a trick, that I'm infiltrating."

Zelde hadn't thought of that idea; now she did. "Well, you got us to admit we're Escaped, right? Now all you'd . have to do is get the word out-which might be quite a trick, itself."

184.

Defose looked as if she'd been hit. "Do you believe that?"

"Believe?" said Parnell. "Ms. Defose, we can't afford to believe much of anything.

So we'll have to find out."

In her kit, Torra Defose routinely carried "truth" drugs; Fesler, though, preferred to use his own. "Not that truth's the right word," he said. "Nothing so cut-and- dried. The stuff knocks out inhibitions and reduces attention span, making it nearly impossible to stick to a complicated story consistently. But there's an art to the questioning-and some people are relatively immune to the effects. Or resistant, at least."

Strapped in a chair, Defose sat. Five minutes after Fesler gave the shot, her mouth hung slack and her eyes looked empty. It didn't look like a fake-Zelde shook her head; you had to a.s.sume something, or what was the point of this?

Parnell lit a cigar, sat, and began asking. Your name? Torra Marise Defose.

Rank? None. Giggle, "Oh-used to be. Yes. . . ." Adjutant and Exec, for Parleyvoo.

Age? Thirty-four bio, in Earth years. Born? Loose laugh. "Well, how else?" Born where? Calgary, Alberta, North America, Earth. And left Earth at what age? Twenty- six. For where? Here-Terranova. Summit Bay first, then-oh, two-three years ago-to Parleyvoo.

Leaning forward, Parnell was. Do you want to Escape? I did Escape, didn't I? Why?

Same reason as you did. "Then I think you'd better tell all about it."

Strained now, the woman's face had a helpless look. She shrugged. "All? That's the reason-all of it. You know?" Parnell waited; finally she continued. And then, for quite a while, she kept talking.

It was the torturing. Not just watching it, but sometimes having to do it, too. Sure- something important, you knew they knew it, and couldn't get it any other way- routine, that was. But you judged weakness and worked on it- psychology-making the fear of pain worse than pain itself. It was still bad. . . .

Cort Verrane, though, liked it. Said he didn't trust drugs. Even her superior at Summit Bay, when she was there, hadn't been that bad. Bad enough, though. Which was 185.

why-but then she shut up, and Parnell couldn't find a question to keep her going.

Back to Verrane, then. Defose grunted; her face twisted. With him, you clear a suspect, and like as not, he tortured anyway. Did a lot of permanent damage, left some victims unfit to live. The face and crotch were his favorite targets.

Remembering Softie at Ba.r.s.e's, Zelde didn't doubt what she heard.

Defose went on. The Underground leader, Horsehead. Caught and interrogated not long ago. Plain crazy, Verrane was. The way he used the hacksaw. . . .

The woman tried to raise her head. "Ready to talk, broken, so I said, more babble juice. Mixed in half with killer-drug, though. Spilled only two names, and died."

Parody of a laugh. "Heart failure. Traceless, you see. Would have thanked me, by then. Fooled Verrane, and the tapes. I-"

Zelde tried to figure it out. Defose had killed the tortured, ruined pristmer before he could give away his secrets? Why?

Parnell asked; head lolling, Torra Defose tried to answer. Her words made no sense: Parnell tried again. Then, eyes rolled up in her head, mouthing her words breathily, she said, "Because, you d.a.m.nfool, I was Horsehead's se-gundo. Been in Underground four years, from Summit Bay."

Then it began to make reason.

They gave her coffee, and Fesler tried a counteractive shot; in a short time the woman was tracking better. "The two names Verrane had from Horsehead. I tipped one and he hit the boonies, dropped out of sight. The other didn't know anything.

Verrane bent him, though, and used him."

"And at Parleyvoo, Verrane still holds the handle." Parnell shook his head. "I could wish-"

Still groggy, Defose bared clenched teeth. "Every week, Cort Verrane comes nosing through my office. Did, I mean. Today when he came I had my squad ready outside, with the car. He's still there, with the door locked. I killed him, and burned the Horsehead tapes. So the Underground at Parleyvoo, the rest of it's safe enough."

The woman's face was flushed; her breath came too fast and her eyes glared. "You don't know! After Horsehead, with Verrane 386.

on the prowl, once he had the blood-scent, I couldn't last long. You plug one leak, there's another. Kill him and Summit Bay comes down and pins me. Run, and Verrane rips up the Underground. So I did both, and took care of all of it."

Parnell said, "I'm not sure I understand. What did Horsehead's successor, your new chief in the Underground, think about all this?"

Her harsh laugh rattled. "Horsehead-not a name, a job. All the time you were on Terranova, / was Horsehead!"

Parnell gestured to the medic. "Put her to bed. See that she gets some rest-and food, if she can use it." He turned to Zelde. "Let's go. My mind's balanced like a coin on edge, whether we go to Refuge or Fair Ball. I think we may as well call a quick executive council and vote on it."

"No!" Tottering in Fesler's grasp, Torra Defose shrieked it. ''Not Refuge! No such thing-it's a UET trap!"

Getting it all straight took some time. Zelde got Turk out of bed. and Turk confirmed that her info on Refuge had come from a man called Jex. "Skinny.

Hunched over to one side."

"Verrane's doing," Defose said, "and Verrane's finger. Always good with blackmail, Verrane was. Once he had the name from Horsehead. he broke Jex and used him. Until now, though, I hadn't known what that use was."

Being in Police she'd known about Refuge for a long time. Except for one armed ship kept there, painted with Tregare's insigne Inconnu, Refuge was a low-budget operation. The other three standing hulls were dummies, also disguised as known Escaped ships. For the rest, a plausible amount of land planted in crops and a scattering of buildings to simulate a normal Hidden Worlds settlement. But those buildings housed a UET garrison. A trap, all of it, for Escaped ships that knew no better.

"And to think," said Parnell, "that UET planted the myth so long ago that I heard it as a cadet in the Slaughterhouse. Has the place had any success, do you know?"

Defose nodded. "Two ships captured, at least; maybe more. Not a big return, over the years. But UET takes all it can get."

Parnell snorted. "Too right. Now-do get some sleep, 187.

Ms. Defose. I think you've earned your pa.s.sage on this ship." For a moment he clasped Zelde's shoulder. "Come on; I need a drink."

In quarters Parnell started to pour whisky. His hands shook; he set the bottle down hard, gave Zelde one quick look, and went into the bathroom. She made drinks and put one on his desk. She checked the pills; there should have been one left, of the ration she'd set out for him that day, but there wasn't. Well, he'd said he might need extras now; she brought out one more and put it beside his gla.s.s. Then, waiting, she sipped at her own drink.

Pale of face, he came out and sat facing her. The pill, he washed down with whisky.

And said, "I threw up, in there."

She thought, then said, "Wasn't a very pretty story, Ra-gir."

"No. But I've heard worse. I'm just knocked out of shape, Zelde. Part of what I threw up, was blood."

Her voice came out a harsh croak. "You want Fesler?"

"Not yet. I have to go to Control. Tzane can't handle the course change, for the sling maneuver around the gas giant. When I've arranged for that-then we'll see."

She reached to touch him. "Ragir? I don't suppose-"

He clasped her hand. "It's been a while, hasn't it-since I've been much good to you." She tried to speak but he shushed her. "And I'd be no good now-even if my guts weren't threatening to leave home. Some of the things Defose told-they might s.e.x some people up, I suppose, but not me." He drained his gla.s.s. "Time to get upship.