Flagship (20 page)

The
Sabine Nova
had been towing the
Teddy
R
for more than a Standard day when a Navy ship finally spotted it.

"Please identify yourself," demanded the ship, a Class L.

"Just voice," Cole ordered Briggs. "No holo."

"Yes, sir."

"This is the
Sabine Nova,"
answered Cole, "three hundred and four days out of Spica VI, registration number HVT678939QW2, Tucker Marchand commanding, destination Deluros VIII."

"And your companion ship?"

"It is not a companion," answered Cole. "It's a trophy that we're presenting to Secretary Egan Wilkie."

"A trophy?" said the voice at the other end. "Explain yourself, please."

"The ship we are towing is the
Theodore Roosevelt."

"That's Wilson Cole's ship?" said the voice excitedly. "You really got him?"

"We really got him," answered Cole.

The voice gave out a holler of triumph. "Good for you,
Sabine Nova!
We're going to ride shotgun for you until you've passed through our sector."

"We'd be proud to have you," said Cole, ending the transmission.

"Proud?" said Val contemptuously.

"What do you think he'd have done if we told him to leave us alone?" asked Cole,

"We could have blown him to bits," she said. "In fact, we still can. He's a bigger target now."

"We're not on the Frontier or the outskirts of the Republic any longer, Val," said Cole. "He's got to be in constant contact with other ships."

And no sooner had he said it than two more ships, each on its normal patrol route, contacted him and volunteered to help escort him to Deluros.

"We're going to be quite a parade if we keep picking up help in each sector," remarked Sharon after Cole had thanked them for their offer.

"Just as well," replied Cole. "Then no outraged patriots will take any potshots at the
Teddy R."

Within three hours Briggs found a galaxy-wide newscast concerning the daring capture of the notorious Wilson Cole and his rebel ship. One politician after another made self-congratulatory speeches, and at least three of them suggested that when the whole truth came out it would show that Cole was in the employ of the Teroni Federation.

"They may trample each other getting to the microphone to take credit for it," remarked Sharon as she and Cole took dinner in the sitting room of their suite. "I never thought much of our government, but suddenly I think even less of it."

"At least Susan Garcia's not coming out of retirement to claim that
she
planned our capture," said Cole with a smile.

"What are we going to do when we finally get there?" asked Sharon. "The media is going to want to take endless holos of the triumphant crew."

"Then I guess we'll let them."

She stared at him curiously. "Are you going to tell me what you have in mind?"

"It would be more fun if you seduced it out of me," he answered. "But what the hell. They want a triumphant crew? We'll give them one. We have eleven crew members, like Moyer and Gentry, who never served on the
Teddy R
when it was in the Navy, men and aliens we picked up on the Inner Frontier . . . and Lafferty's got over a dozen or more. We'll make sure they're wearing some of our old Navy uniforms—I'll give one of mine to Lafferty; we'll have to take it in a bit, but I trust him to come up with the right answers—and they can meet the press."

"Including Val?" asked Sharon.

Cole shook his head. "I need her with me." Suddenly he smiled. "Besides, can you imagine the answers she'd give to their questions?"

"I assume from the way you worded that, you're planning on leaving the ship?"

"That shouldn't come as a surprise," he said.

"You and Val alone?"

"No, I'll need more than that. It's a shame I can't take Jacovic, but we can't let a Teroni show his face on Deluros."

"Am I coming?" she asked.

"I haven't decided yet," he told her.

"I'd like to."

"I know."

"You wouldn't say no just to protect me?" she persisted.

"I'm taking those I think best fit the mission," he said. "If it fails, we're all dead anyway."

Sharon opened a line to the bridge. "Commander Jacovic, what's our ETA on Deluros VIII?"

"If we use the Kominsky Wormhole and no one hinders us along the way, Wxakgini says we will arrive in forty-three Standard hours," answered the Teroni.

"That fast!" she said after breaking the connection. "The most heavily guarded planet in the galaxy, probably in the history of the galaxy, and we're actually going to do it, aren't we, Wilson?"

"We're actually going to make it to Deluros," he replied. "But that was always the easy part."

"Easy?" she repeated incredulously.

He nodded his head. "Compared to what comes next."

They docked in one of the six thousand orbiting hangars under the watchful eyes of the local authorities, the system authorities, the sector authorities, the Navy, and the media.

Cole was standing just outside Engineering, his hands in glowing manacles.

"You're sure?" he said.

"Absolutely," said Mustapha Odom. "Try them."

Cole flexed his muscles and tried to pull his hands apart. At first he thought the experiment was a failure, but then he felt the manacles break apart, and a moment later they shattered and the pieces fell off his wrists.

"I
told
you," said Odom, annoyed that Cole hadn't taken his word for it.

"All right," said Cole. "I'm going to be sending some of the crew down here. I want those manacles on each of them."

"I made up a dozen pair, just as you told me."

"I know. But we won't need that many."

Odom frowned. "Then why—?"

"Because the others may also be a little dubious about being able to break out of them when the time comes," replied Cole. "And if each of them needs to try them out, so be it. I don't want any of them having doubts when the chips are down."

"Send your crew," said Odom. "I'm ready for them."

"Soon," promised Cole, walking to the airlift.

A moment later he was on the bridge. "Val, get down to Engineering, and don't fight whatever Mr. Odom does to you. He'll explain it all." He looked around. "You too, Braxite. You're our only Molarian, and since most of the Men we're going to see today can't tell one Molarian from another, you can pass for Four Eyes."

"That will be an honor," said Braxite, accompanying Val to the airlift.

"Put me on the ship's intercom," Cole told Jacovic.

"Done."

"Mr. Pampas, get down to Engineering, on the double. Mr. Sokolov, you too. Right now." He considered the final name for a long minute, then shrugged. "Colonel Blacksmith, report to Engineering immediately."

He joined them a moment later, waiting until the other five were manacled, then had Odom affix another set to his wrists.

"You five, down to the shuttle bay. That's the way we'll leave the ship. Remember, you are prisoners, and no one breaks out of his manacles until I do."

He waited until they'd gone, then went back on the intercom. "Mr. Lafferty, take the five members of your crew that you've decided upon and report to the shuttle bay. Gentry and Mr. Chadwick, you too."

He went down to the shuttle bay and waited until they were all assembled.

"Mr. Lafferty, from this moment on you are Captain Marchand. Right this second they want to see who and what's on the
Teddy R,
but the second they see my face, and assume that Braxite is Four Eyes, they'll turn their entire attention on us. Be a little arrogant, explain that you know how big the reward is, and that you're not sharing it with anyone else. They've already announced that there will be a special shuttle to take us down to the Secretary's Mansion. Insist that no one from that shuttle except you, your crew, and your prisoners enters the Secretary's Mansion, and once we're there, demand that we be marched directly to Wilkie's office. I can't imagine he isn't there, ready to take his bows to the press."

"What if some of his security team wants to come with us?" asked Lafferty.

"I'm sure they will, and I'm sure they won't permit you to enter the office without at least some of them in attendance."

"So . . . ?"

"So let them accompany you, and the second the door's closed try to get the drop on them. I promise we won't be a hindrance." He looked at his team. "Are we ready?"

There were a few nods and grunts of assent.

"Okay. Open the hatch."

Lafferty walked out onto the enclosed dock first, tall and dignified in one of Cole's old uniforms. He gruffly demanded that the press keep their distance, and then he had Luthor Chadwick, burner in hand, grab Cole's arm with his free hand and yank him forward until he was a few feet clear of the shuttle.

Suddenly there was an excited buzzing among the media.

"It's him! It's really him!"

"It's Wilson Cole!"

"It's Cole and that Molarian, Forrice/"

"It's really Wilson Cole! We finally caught the bastard!"

"Who's the giantess—the one with the red hair?"

A patrol of local gendarmes and a squad of Navy Special Police were waiting for them. The leader of the Navy group approached Lafferty and saluted.

"Captain Marchand?"

"That's right," said Lafferty, returning a lazy salute. "And I believe you know this gentleman?"

"I've been studying his poster for four years," replied the Navy man. "How did you finally capture him?"

"It's a long story," said Lafferty. "I'll be happy to tell it to you over a beer or two, but first I want to deliver Mr. Cole and his cohorts so I can collect my reward."

"That's
Captain
Cole," snapped Cole.

"You lost that title when you committed mutiny," said Lafferty harshly. "Now shut up and follow these men." He nodded to the Navy man, who turned and began leading them to another shuttle, one with the Secretary's seal on it.

The flight down to Deluros VIII was both fast and uneventful. Each of the six prisoners spent the ten minutes staring down the barrel of a burner or a screecher. Not a word was spoken, and as quickly as they landed they were ushered out.

Cole looked around. He was on a rooftop. He'd never been on the roof of this particular building before, but Deluros VIII was not unknown to him. It was a huge planet, far larger than Earth, but through some fluke of position and rotation, it possessed an almost identical gravity and atmosphere. It had enough room for endless expansion that Man had all but abandoned Earth and moved the seat of government here, to the larger and more convenient location. The planet was covered by a single city, which sprawled hundreds of miles in every direction, covering deserts, burrowing through mountain chains, submerging beneath the oceans, totally interconnected, a proper capital world for the galaxy's dominant race.

"Where are we?" asked Lafferty, who had never been on Deluros VIII before.

"We're on the roof of the Knight's Castle," answered the leader of the Navy squad.

Lafferty frowned. "I don't believe I've heard of it before."

"It's the media's name for the Secretary's Mansion," was the reply. "Follow me, please."

The man led them to a raised structure that had a large door in it. It sensed their approach and opened.

"Some security!" snorted Lafferty, trying to appear impatient and officious, and doing a reasonably good job of it.

"It read my retina, bone structure, and ID chip"—the Navy man placed a finger to the side of his neck, where a small scar indicated the chip was embedded—"or it wouldn't have opened."

Lafferty nodded sagely and tried not to look as silly as he felt.

"This way, sir."

The Navy man entered the enclosure and waited on a cushion of air until Lafferty, Cole, two of Lafferty's men, and four police officers were inside the structure. They then descended four levels, stepped off, and waited while the next batch of prisoners and guards were brought down. After the third trip they were all assembled once again, and the Navy man led them down the brilliantly lighted corridor, past a holo of Johnny Ramsey, who was universally considered to be the greatest of all the Republic's Secretaries, and finally came to a door that had four armed, uniformed Security men on each side of it.

"Secretary Wilkie's office," he announced.

"Just how big is the damned thing?" demanded Lafferty.

"Pretty big."

"That's no answer. These are dangerous men, even manacled as they are. I'm not going to have them cause any trouble in a crowd and then make a break for it—or, worse still, go for the Secretary."

"You can't enter alone, sir," said one of the Security men. "By your own admission, these are dangerous men, and there are only eight of you."

"We caught the bastard, which is something no one else in the damned Republic could do for four years," said Lafferty, feigning anger. "We can take care of him."

"It's against the Secretary's own rule for anyone to enter the office until some of us also enter."

"All right," said Lafferty, frowning as if considering his options. "Choose some of your men and we'll accept it." He turned to the Navy man. "You and your team got us here safely from the shuttle, but we
are
here now, and in these gentlemen's hands. Thank you for your service."

"Will you be coming back, sir?"

"Eventually. We left a skeleton crew on the
Theodore Roosevelt,
just to make sure it's still functioning. They're under guard, of course, and now that we're here we'll unload them and turn them over to whoever will be in charge of them." He paused and pugnaciously jutted his chin forward. "But not until we get our reward."

The Navy man saluted, turned, and motioned his men to return to the airlift.

"Let's get started," said Lafferty, heading to the door.

"One moment, sir," said a guard.

"What is it?" demanded Lafferty.

"Just a precaution, sir," said the guard, pulling out a personal scanner and running its beam over every inch of Cole's body from a distance of about five feet. "Last month we caught a man trying to come in here with a tiny explosive device inside a false molar. Others have hidden weapons and explosive in their shoes, in their clothes, even inside their bodies." He turned the scanner off. "You're clear," he said to Cole. "Commander Forrice next." Braxite stepped forward for examination.

It took another five minutes, but finally the man announced that all the prisoners were clean.

"All right, sir," he said, ordering the door to open, and a moment later Cole and his five associates were brought, manacled and at gunpoint, to the desk of the most powerful man in the Republic, quite possibly the most powerful man who had ever lived.

"Captain Cole," said Egan Wilkie, getting to his feet, "you have no idea how much I have longed for this moment, how I have planned for it and plotted for it and even prayed for it." He allowed himself the luxury of a triumphant smile. "You will be given a fair trial, you will be fairly judged, and"—the smile became broader—"you will be fairly executed."