Shadow of the Swan (Book Two of the Phoenix Legacy) (42 page)

Alex nodded. “The first two numbers are the key, aren’t they?”

“Right. All SSB prisoners start with one, Conpol with two, Confleet with three. The second number refers to classifications within each of those categories; the other numbers are codes used by individual DCs. All Phoenix prisoners come under SSB jurisdiction, so 10-273
begins
well enough with that one, but the number one
-zero
doesn’t mean a damn thing. The SSB has no classification for it. Phoenix prisoners are all classified one
-seven
. But they knew we’d be looking for that, and I think to keep from fouling up their computers, they put Andreas in a class by himself.”

“Very perceptive of them.” Alex stared mesmerized at the screen, and some part of him wanted to laugh aloud, but it was only evident in a slight lift in his voice. “Ben, I can’t believe you’re wrong—probably because I don’t want to—but we’ll still need positive ident. Do you have a layout of the DC?”

Ben nodded and flipped through another series of images, then stopped at a floor plan.

“This is Level 1 of the base HQ. It’s underground, and most of it’s used for storage and maintenance. The water cyclers are up here, power exchange here, equipment storage in this area. He brought the image up and shifted it to put one section in the center of the screen. “This is the base DC.”

On the right edge of the screen a corridor ran north and south; from the wider view, Alex knew it was the main access corridor for the entire level. In the center of the screen a hallway branched to the left off the main corridor, forming a horizontal “T.” Against the wall of the main corridor, across from the second hall, a square was drawn with the initials MS inscribed in it. Monitoring station.

The side hall led to a large circular area; a smaller circle was drawn just inside the outer perimeter, with radiating lines connecting the two. Alex felt a chill. Even after seven months, the memories of the Cliff were bitterly clear. The spaces enclosed within those lines represented cells. There were twenty of them around the circle.

In the center of the circle was another small square with the initials MS. A guard stationed there could see into every cell, and vidicams within the cells would give him even more detailed readings. Dotted lines crossed the openings of each cell: shock screens. Across the hall leading to the main corridor was another dotted line.

“We have two monitoring stations to contend with,” Ben was saying, his blunt finger moving across the screen. “This one in the main corridor, and the one in the DC. The corridor station picks up the signals from the DC station; that gives them backup. The guards at either one of the stations can activate the shock screens on the cells and this one in the hall, and they both have alarm switches. With a lot of luck, you’d have maybe thirty seconds before reinforcements arrived if somebody hit the alarms.”

Jael frowned absently at the layout. “What about access from the upper levels?”

Ben pulled back again to show the entire level.

“There are five nulgrav lifts along the main corridor. The closest to the DC is here—that’s about fifteen meters south of the corridor monitoring station.”

Alex began pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back. “Our first problem is positive identification.
Then
we can worry about access.”

Ben nodded. “We’ll have to get someone inside the DC. I’ve dug as deep as I can. There isn’t an imagraph or VP ident on prisoner 10-273 in the Pendino files, and definitely no interrogation tapes we could use for VP comparison. The SSB file on Andreas is sealed so tight, I’m not sure if even Galinin could touch it.”

“We can’t risk sending an agent into the DC. One hint that we’re that close and they’d have Andreas out of there before we could do a damn thing about it. We’d be right back where we started.”

“I know, Alex, but we can’t risk going in without positive ident, either.”

“We’ll go in once, and only once—when we go in for Andreas.” He leaned over Ben’s shoulder to reach the controls, pulling the image up until only the DC was visible. “All Confleet bases operate on Terran Standard Time; they have three shift changes a day. There are six men in Pendino who have the answer to our question; six men who see prisoner 10-273 every day.” He pointed to each of the two monitoring stations in turn. “I want one out of six. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Ben nodded. “If we can get hold of one of the guards, Erica can work on him and get an ident from imagraphs. Then we send him back to Pendino with memory blocks, and he’ll never know he’s been aiding and abetting.”

Alex turned away from the screen to resume his pacing.

“Nor will the SSB, and we may find the same method useful in freeing Andreas—once we’re sure he’s there. The guards at those monitoring stations are the keys.”

“I hope to hell we can get two nonresistants on the same shift.”

Alex shrugged. “Confleet attracts nonresistants, even susceptibles. First, we have to capture just one of those guards.”

“Helen is the closest city to Pendino,” Jael put in. “A lot of Pendino ’Fleeters spend their leaves there, and most of them end up in the Outside sooner or later. If we can box one of these six in the Outside, he’ll be a kid’s gim to pull down.”

“We’ll pull him down,” Ben said firmly, “one way or another, but that’s a good line to follow up.” Then he added, “
If
we don’t get tangled up with the Brothers.”

“You won’t if you let me handle the catch.”

“Fine with me.” Ben switched off the screen and removed the tape spool. “I’ll have to get copies of Pendino’s personnel files and leave schedules. That’ll take a few days, then maybe we’ll have something we can get our teeth into.”

Alex paused in his restless pacing. “You’d better go over the personnel files with Erica. She can suggest the best candidates for conditioning, in case we have a choice.”

“Alex, I hardly make a move these days without an expert opinion from her. I guess there’s nothing more we can do now. I’ll get back to Fina and start the wheels turning on the files. By the way, Erica sends her regards, Alex, and she wants a detailed report on your tour. Verbal, and as soon as possible; she says she likes her impressions fresh. Besides, she was jumpy as a cat the whole time you were gone.”

“She needn’t have been,” he said absently, “I was set up for MT trans to
Phoenix One
at any time.”

“Well, she worries a lot, especially when you’re wandering around Cameroodo or Selasid compounds. She calls them time bombs.”

Alex took a quick breath, frowning. “She’s right about that. I’ll call her as soon as I can. How is she?”

Ben slumped back into his chair, arms folded.

“She’s all right, and we haven’t had so much as a hard look from Predis lately. He got a negative reaction when he sent his boys after me. I think if everybody wasn’t so caught up in the war fever, that would’ve laid the whole thing wide open. But it’s working, Alex, the war fever’s working. He had another one of those rallies a couple of days ago and pulled over four thousand members. That’s nearly everybody in Fina who wasn’t on essential duty. The way they were cheering, you’d think they’d already won his damned war.”

Alex nodded, but he didn’t feel the old numb rage; they would—might—have Andreas free soon. And the LR-MT.

He turned to Jael. “Have you talked to Lyden or Bruce lately?”

“Lyden. He wants to see you. He says they’re on a new tangent and they have some promising read-outs. I think that means they’re closer to lining in on the tangent Andreas was taking. As far as I’m concerned, Lyden’s in the Beyond. I don’t speak the language.”

“Neither do I, and talking to him usually doesn’t help any. Damn, Andreas was so
close
. Along with everything else, we’ve lost eight months on the LR-MT, and I doubt we’ll have time to make it up.”

Ben frowned at him. “What do you mean? Predis?”

Alex hesitated before he answered. “He’s only part of it. I told you my tour was informative. Ben, the Concord’s going to see some uprisings in the next few months to make the ones in the past look like children’s games. Cameroodo. Both the Lamb’s and the Brother’s influence there is virtually nonexistent because the Shepherds are so weak. Lord James likes to keep them in their place. The Toramil compounds are going to explode, and when they do it’ll be a real disaster. Like the Ganymede uprising. It’s always more dangerous where you have habitat systems.”

Neither Ben nor Jael responded to that, and Alex felt the uneasiness in their silence. He looked over at Ben with an oblique smile.

“Sorry. This is no time for gloom-casting when we might have Andreas free soon.”

Ben laughed as he came to his feet. “If I got discouraged with a little gloom, I’d have gone over the edge long ago. Jael, tell Val I wish her luck at Saint Petra’s. You have her set up for emergency trans?”

“She’s well screened on every side. Don’t worry.” He smiled faintly. “We almost lost her once. If we lose her on this gim, we can’t send the hounds after her. Not into Saint Petra’s. Alex, if you don’t need me here for a while, I’ll go back to the old Ser’s for Val. She’ll be wondering what’s come down.”

“Go ahead, and I won’t need either of you tonight, so you can both relax.”

“Thanks.” Jael touched the doorcon and as the screens clicked off turned to Ben. “If we’re going to cage one of those guards in the Outside, I’ll need a little running time to set it up.”

“You’ll have it. Alex, get some rest. We may be too busy to sleep the next few weeks.”

“I’d give up more than sleep to have Andreas free. That’s worth any price asked.”

Jael frowned. “Brother, you’re asking fate.”

“Probably. Ben, thanks for the good news.”

“Feels damn good, doesn’t it? Later. . . .”

Alex watched Ben cross to the MT, a vigor in his stride that had been absent for a long time.

Hope, Alex thought; that ambivalent blessing.

He walked with Jael as far as the bank of monitors and scanners. Even their tickings and hummings seemed to have a more positive pitch, and the faces of the monitoring crew reflected hopeful anticipation.

“Jael, I’ll talk to you and Val in the morning.” Then, after Jael had gone on to the MT, Alex turned to one of the comtechs.

“Mistra Rosiv, will you call a general assembly here in the comcenter. I have some news for the staff.”

Master Bruno Hawkwood listened to the soft chunking of his hoe, guiding the primitive tool with intent concentration, carefully skirting the clusters of flowers around the base of the tree.

Daffodils. They seemed incongruous on this desert planet, but at Saint Petra’s a place had been made for them, a place where Terran things thrived, and in the controlled sunlight enjoyed an eternal spring. The graceful notes of bird songs emerged from the green shadows of the trees, lending a pastoral calm to the afternoon. His hoe moved in rhythmic strokes, turning the soil, cutting out the straying grass. The daffodils had a peculiarly heady fragrance, more like Terran narcissus. It reminded him of Margreta; narcissus was her favorite flower because of that sweet fragrance. With the fading of her vision, she’d learned to cultivate the pleasures of other senses.

The rhythm of his movements faltered. He recognized the danger of this line of thought and called up an epigra, reciting it silently to the steady chunking of his hoe.

Holy Lord, mover of stars, move my hand in thy will
.
Mover of suns, move my arm
.
Mover of worlds, move my body
,
Maker of Order, align my thoughts
.
Holy Lord, Author of Fate, make my Destiny;
I am thy body, I am thy arm, I am thy hand
.
In the name of Gamaliel, sainted of the All-God
.
Ahm
.

He finished the thrice-three recitative, feeling the calm moving in his veins, feeling his body—bone, nerve, and muscle—working in harmonic consonance with his mind.

He would be ready. And the day was right; there was a clarity, a stillness in the atmosphere.

It would be today.

Yesterday there was a tension in the air; something that had no reasonable source, but it was there, and he took it as a sign; the time wasn’t right.

Today it was right.

27 Augus. Even the numbers were right. Except that it was the
eighth
month. But two was the number of sacred dualism, seven the number of the Wheel of Destiny, and together they totaled the alpha number nine, and eight added to that produced another alpha number, seventeen.

And the time—Terran Standard 14:00, the double seven, and local Castor Standard would be 13:00.

It was right.

He paused to survey his handiwork, the freshly turned earth clean of straggling grass, the clusters of daffodils stripped of dead leaves and blossoms, the buds and fresh blooms smiling around the creased trunk of the tree. There was something to be said for this work; there was satisfaction in it. But he had other work to do, and the Lord Selasis was not a patient man.

Hawkwood leaned on his hoe and opened the collar of his tabard, the white and gold tabard of a Church Bond. He wasn’t overly warm. He was only aware that the afternoon play period would begin in a few minutes.

His tawny eyes moved around the courtyard, somnolent in the afternoon sun, the dark pools of tree shadows cool and comfortable. On his right, behind the spaced row of trees, loomed the colonnaded walls of the cloister, screened, shadowed, inaccessible. Across the court was the school, and behind the windowalls, the impatient children, counting the minutes as he was. One end of the court was closed off with a row of low buildings, and behind him, the other end was fenced with a stone wall two meters high. It could be vaulted if necessary, but its gate was open during the day. Normally, a Church Fesh guard lounged there, but he had left his post hurriedly a few minutes ago, his destination the convent infirmary. They would diagnose it as food poisoning.

Hawkwood moved with unhurried steps to the next tree and its girdle of flowers. The pace of life at Saint Petra’s was leisurely. He prided himself on his ability to absorb the rhythms of the people around him as well as their mannerisms and accents, and so he moved at a slow, ambling pace that brought him to the next flower bed and ten meters closer to the Bond, Lectris.