Only Human (20 page)

And now, all of this, their entire glorious
Union, was threatened by a single madman who would soon control all of it if
not stopped. Air Command's vast reserves of men and weapons ceased to matter.
They may as well send everyone home.

Carras forced himself to stop pacing and
peered intently into the faces of the guards lining the walls of this room. Stalwart.
Unmoving. He suspected that they had been genetically engineered, bred and
trained for their duty to the Factors. What use was this now? Guards, guns,
planes, all toys now. Who would throw pebbles to stop a charging bull?

When Carras heard the knock on the inside
door, he knew that the leaders would have come to the same conclusion as he
had, as Tychon had days ago as they discussed their options aboard the Eagle.
There were precious few choices left. They would try to stop the bull or die
trying. There was nothing else to do. And he was the boy with the pebbles.

He entered the room and waited while it was
resealed, feeling the silence descend over the chamber to drop heavily on his
ears.

"Carras," Baroch said as though
he had never left the room. "You will employ your agents to locate the boy
but we cannot approve a large scale operation. If this Tughan works as
intended, we no longer outgun Tharron and so this will remain a covert
operation. We will expect progress reports within weeks. We recognize that
lives are at stake. Perhaps many lives. Your agents will attempt to liberate
the Tughan and return him to Delphi before you try to take him by force.
Failing that, you will take immediate action to disable the Tughan in any
manner you see fit. Tharron must not be given the opportunity to test its design.
Do you understand?"

Carras nodded. Of course he understood. He
bared his teeth in a grimace of disgust.

"Of course, we would prefer to gain
control of the Tughan Wai. The research opportunity would be of value."
Baroch's brittle skin wrinkled around blue lips as he smiled at this
understatement. "We trust that you will manage this operation without
needing to divulge its nature to anyone but your Vanguard. You are given
unlimited clearance. However, anti-Union sentiment is strong on Delphi. We
cannot risk our position there by restricting their Shantirs, as you had
suggested.”

Carras nodded, inwardly wishing the pox on all
politicians and their kin.

"Good. I am going to oversee this
operation. Please report to me as soon as any progress has been made."
Baroch waved a dismissal.

Carras stomped out of the room, a seasoned
warrior, nearing his honorable retirement, now officially responsible for the
military balance for all of Trans-Targon! He cursed the day that had made him
an officer.

“I would have appreciated a meeting in
little more… wholesome surroundings,” Jelani sniffed disapprovingly. He looked
up at the Terran who had brought him here, then at the Caspian sitting across the
table.

Pe Khoja studied the Delphian through
half-closed lids. Pinched, aristocratic face with a beak of a nose. A voice
that grated. Not so young anymore; Pe Khoja judged him to be third, maybe even
fourth quarter. Skin of the left forefinger worn-looking as if from the chafe
of a heavy ring worn for years. Maybe the sort of ring worn by Shantirs.

He slumped deep into his seat and drew a
knee up against the edge of the table. His eyes searched through the noisy,
surging crowd around them, seeing no one loiter, no one watching. If there were
any Union agents here, they were well concealed. The nervous Delphian before
him sat erect in a crowd of slouchers, eyeing a brawlsome group of travelers at
a nearby table as if he expected an imminent assault. He looked out of place
here in Feron’s only public airport and interstellar launch.

It took hard-earned experience to
distinguish ticket-holding commuters from the riffraff of thieves, panhandlers
and whores. Moneyed people used Feron’s Union-owned airdrome on the other side
of the glaring, blaring city. No one ever came here to stay. It was a stopover
at best. A fortunate few used the launch to leave this place forever. For Pe
Khoja, the mining planet was a place to meet pirates and renegades, his most
valuable contacts. When possible, he avoided it altogether.

He glanced up at the pilot that had
delivered Jelani. “Get lost.”

Fynn Bridger looked from him to the
Delphian and then moved away, his eyes on the surging crowd around them.

“This will do for our first date,” Pe Khoja
said to Jelani. “Now tell me why a Delphian is looking for the likes of me.”

“That man is paid to guard me,” Jelani
objected. “Who knows what felons frequent this place.” Jelani did not bother to
explain that Fynn Bridger had sought him out after Jelani had spent three days
in bumbling attempts to find someone in the lower holds of Targon with some
sort of connection to the rebel. He had practically dragged Jelani out of the
crew quarters before someone could wonder why, of all people, a Delphian elder
was haunting those crude halls. Jelani suspected that the pilot had his own
reasons for wanting to leave Targon. Now AWOL and flying a hired ship,
returning there was not an option.

Pe Khoja observed the Delphian curiously.
Clearly, the man had no idea who was hosting this particular interview. “You
get to keep him, no worries,” he said. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“Entertain me.”

“I have something that Tharron needs,”
Jelani said. “I know you have the boy. I have the means to make him useful to
you.”

“And what would that be?”

“Look,” Jelani said. He shrank back when a
trio of Genen bipeds lurched past their table, shrieking something akin to
laughter. Malodorous fumes wafted into his nostrils and he suddenly felt the
need for a bath. He closed his eyes, meditating, shutting out his unwholesome
surroundings. He drifted into a state of mind that let him block out everything
except the rebel in front of him. “I may not be the sort of person you are used
to dealing with, but you should not underestimate me. You want the Tughan and I
can give him to you. You’ll not get such an offer from anyone else.”

Pe Khoja leaned forward and rested his
elbows on the table. “That is the part that confuses me, Shantir. Share with me
the reasons why you, a Delphian, take up with yonder deserter over there,” he
gestured toward Fynn, “and travel all the way out here to offer us your
services.”

“My reasons are my own!” Jelani exclaimed.
“You can take my offer or not. If not, I’ll thank you for your time and be on
my way.”

The Caspian regarded him for several
moments before throwing his head back in a bellow of laughter that had nearby
travelers turning their heads. He sobered, still chuckling in amusement, when
one of his men approached him. “Delphi, you are so very much past that option
already.” He waved Jelani’s panicked reply aside to study a small screen that
was being shown to him.

The data concerned the Terran pilot that had
brought the Shantir here to Feron. He had been photographed and identified and
Pe Khoja read the information with growing interest. Undistinguished record,
long list of transgressions and misdemeanors, questionable associations,
frequent transfers from one command to the next. Hunter Class pilot and
exceptional marksman. Perfect, Pe Khoja thought. Then another item caught his
eye. He glanced up at his aide. “Really?” The information listed among the
pilot’s past and close associates one Captain Nova Whiteside.

“Confirmed.”

Pe Khoja grinned, showing sharp teeth.
Tharron had not been pleased to learn that Whiteside, long a thorn in his side,
had been assigned to the boy’s father. No doubt she was using her considerable
tenacity at this very moment to try to track them down. She had become a symbol
of Union presence to their K’lar leader and he blamed her even for events in
which she had had no part at all. It seemed that whenever one of their schemes
failed or was foiled by the Union, Whiteside was sure to be listed among the
reasons. And now her old boyfriend was applying for a job. This might be fun.

He turned his attention back to the
Delphian. “Tharron will want some sort of proof that you are sincere, wizard.
For all we know, the Union sent you to spy on us and play your mental tricks
with us all.” Pe Khoja groaned inwardly for having voiced such nonsense.

Jelani bristled. “I assure you I am
sincere. I care nothing about Union dealings.”

The Caspian pretended to ponder a while.
“We’ll make this simple. You tell me where we can find Nova Whiteside and I’ll
take that as proof that we can trust you.”

Jelani gasped. “Nova… What does this have
to do with the Captain?”

“Nothing. We’d just like to know where she
is.”

“So you can murder her.”

“It’s what we do.”

Jelani shifted in his chair and cast his
eyes around the concourse for some way of starting this whole sorry day over
again. This had all gone too fast! He had meant to make inquiries, perhaps get
some information from one of the rebels embedded among the Union pilots on
Targon. Maybe send out some signals that he was interested in taking a closer
look at the Tughan-to-be. Instead, Fynn Bridger had bundled him onto a cramped
and filth-encrusted cruiser and shipped him all the way out to Feron, barely
speaking throughout the two-jump journey it took to get here. And here he was.
With this Caspian who was surely no minor follower among Tharron’s men. It had
not taken Pe Khoja’s threat to make clear that there was no turning back from
here.

He squared his shoulders. It mattered
nothing. There was no price too high to pay for finding Kiran.

“The Captain is irrelevant to me,” he said.
“They left days ago with the Colonel on some errand. I know not what. After
that they will be on Magra until a transport from the Outland comes in.”

“Tychon is with her?”

“You asked about the Captain!”

Pe Khoja stood up and waved to his men to
keep an eye on the Delphian while he sauntered over to where Fynn Bridger
loitered. He leaned casually against a pillar and regarded the Human silently.
Brawn, enough scars to evidence some hands-on experience, probably not a lot of
scruples, if judged by his records. His visible weapons were excellent and well
cared-for.

Fynn returned his stare. “See something?”

“Not so far,” Pe Khoja said. “Quinlan
vouched for you. What do you want from us?”

“Not a damn thing. I want out of Targon.
Out of the Union. You need pilots.”

“We do.”

“So am I in?”

Pe Khoja put his hand on the man’s shoulder
and steered him back toward Jelani. “I have a job for you,” he said. “Then
we’ll see.”

Five days after the council on Coup d'Oeil,
the Eagle brought Nova down onto the airfields of Deen. By unspoken agreement, this
Magran city was frequented by Union personnel just as another city received
Tharron's planes. Parts of the planet were eternally at war and not at all
opposed to using the larger conflict between Union and rebel to their
advantage. Corruption ruled the distribution of smuggled weapons on both sides
and few of the main continents were unaffected by the ravages these battles
wrought.

Nova arranged for the servicing of the ship
by a trusted outfit that called itself Extra Spatial and borrowed a skimmer
from the owner, soon on her way along the coast to where Tychon and his group
waited.

She had hoped that the drive along the
pretty countryside would ease her apprehension and the suffocating feeling that
something dark and ominous hovered just over her shoulder. The lonely trip back
from Targon had offered few distractions from the nagging sense of doom that
had come aboard as soon as Colonel Carras had disembarked.

Although she had dreaded a two-day
confinement aboard the small ship with the Colonel on the way back from Coup d'Oeil,
it had been interesting. He used the time working on whatever it was that
didn't concern junior officers but they had also spent hours poring over
intelligence reports, contacting remote outposts, reviewing files about the
more important rebel leaders and trading bits of non-restricted information
with Tychon for as long as he was in communication range. Systematically, they
eliminated a number of locations as being too remote or too inhospitable,
sympathizers with too much at stake, governments too beholden to the Union to
want to harbor a stolen Delphian child, for whatever reason.

Carras arranged to have Anders Devaughn
placed under his command. Given Anders' position on Delphi, he would be able to
monitor the movements of the Shantirs who had no means of leaving the planet without
using the Union base. For his part, Jelani readily agreed that none of the
Shantirs that knew of Kiran's design must know of his disappearance. If asked,
he would maintain the fiction that Tychon still kept the boy hidden and refused
to return him to the Court.

Carras had emerged from Tychon's cabin as
they were approaching Targon, carrying his travel kit. He dropped it near the
cargo bay door and came onto the main room.

"Captain," he said. "Please
join me up here."