Star Risk - 03 The Doublecross Program (31 page)

The streets of the capital were hung with white flags, made from everything from sheets and towels to shirts.

Goodnight ran past the ruins of the council building he and Grok had blown up months earlier, that the Shaoki hadn't had the time or capital to rebuild.

"Well, sir?" Goodnight's second in command asked.

Goodnight thought.

"Fine. Looting by squads. And no goddamned rape. I shoot rapists. No burning. No drunkards. They'll lose their share� if some frigging Shaoki doesn't back-stab �em."

The officer saluted, and doubled away.

"All Star Risk elements," von Baldur broadcast on a frequency only monitored by his fellows, in a rather singular code.

"It is all over. I say again, the war is over except for the police call. Pull back and out. I say again, pull back and out and stand by for pickup.

"There's no point in being the last man killed."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIFTY-THREE � ^ � Prince Wahfer waited until his agents reported that the Star Risk principals had returned to Khelat II. He didn't think they had the slightest idea of his plans, but they were gifted with battle luck, and he needed no intrusions.

Below his squadron, in low orbit over Irdis, was the king's cruiser, waiting for the last holdouts below to give up so he could graciously accept the final surrender of the Shaoki worlds, the ultimate triumph.

The king, according to Prince Barab, was busy planning just what he would wear to the ceremony, and figuring out what ultimate abasement he would inflict on the Shaoki, as well as who else, besides their council, he should have executed immediately.

The king thought� the king planned� ran through Prince Wahfer's mind in a merry chorus, as so many wistful dreams that would never happen.

Wahfer grinned, turned to his watch officer, who had been one of the first to be involved in Wahfer's plans.

"Execute Plan Triumphant," he ordered.

The officer grinned.

"With pleasure� Your Majesty."

"Careful," Wahfer warned. "The gods tear the glass of exultation from the lips of those who drink too soon."

"Aye, sir." The officer privately thought the prince was a pompous ass, but a winning one, so he kept the smile broad. The man seemed to get everything he wanted, down to the smallest item.

The officer went to the confidential-materials safe at the rear of the bridge, touched sensors.

It swung open, and the officer took out a fiche.

But Wahfer needed no reminders on the first step.

The crew of his cruiser was already at General Quarters.

"Contact the flagship," he ordered.

In a few seconds, Prince Barab's face was on-screen.

"I have had an idea," Wahfer said. "Rather than lessen the attention paid the king, I propose that my squadron should take care of that damned island that's still holding out."

Barab could barely hide his smile.

"That is most honorable, sir."

"And I have some other targets that should be disposed of at the same time," Wahfer said. "May I approach your ship and transfer the list?"

"Why� yes. Of course."

"I shall not need to come across," Wahfer said. "And will send no more than one messenger."

Barab agreed, and Wahfer cut off.

"Bring our ship within contact range of the flagship," he ordered. "And take command. I shall be in the gunnery compartment."

The watch officer saluted, and Wahfer left the bridge, having trouble keeping his pace down.

It has been so long, he thought.

In the main weapons room he ordered a gunnery officer away from his post, and put on the man's control helmet. He knew that trusted men were already securing all vital departments on his cruiser.

Wahfer waited until the bridge reported that the king's ship was less than a thousand kilometers distant.

"Prepare to launch," he ordered. "I'll take the missile on individual control."

The gunnery commander looked puzzled, but he'd learned long ago to follow the prince's orders exactly.

"Yes, sir."

Wahfer touched the synchronize sensor, and his senses swam for an instant.

Then he was outside the cruiser, in space, and then in a sealed tube.

Wahfer let his fingers, back in the gunnery room, ghostlike, touch the launch button on his board, and the tube came open and he was in space again.

He "looked" around, saw a handful of destroyers clustered around a much bigger ship.

Wahfer applied power, armed the missile, and at full drive shot toward the king's ship, correcting his aim.

If anyone gave an alarm, he didn't notice, hypnotized by the onrushing target.

A second or two before it struck, he cut contact with the missile and jerked off his helmet.

He looked for a screen, found one, just as the missile struck and exploded, exactly as planned, on the king's compartments just behind the bridge.

Flame gouted, then the entire nose of the flagship detonated, spraying men and flame and oxygen into space.

Then the ship blew up, and the screen blanked for an instant, sought another pickup, and when it cleared, the king's ship was a dead hulk.

Wahfer smiled.

"I said I'd only send one messenger."

He got up from the gunnery station, ignoring the shocked�or smiling�faces in the compartment.

"Now for my triumph," he said. "And to secure my companion."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIFTY-FOUR � ^ � I am going to take a shower," Redon Spada announced. "I still don't feel clean."

"You, Sir Pilot, are light in the ass," Riss announced. "If you were line slime like I am, you wouldn't whine about being four days or so out of a fresher."

"But that, my lady love," Spada said, "is the differments between us. I always had brains enough to keep away from the trenches."

"Hah," M'chel said. "And have I ragged you sufficiently about your mistaken ideas of mortality?"

"Only about lebenty-leben times."

They were curled, naked, on pillows on the floor of the living room.

"Mmm," Riss said, rolled over, and watched Spada go into the bathroom. She decided he had a nice ass, even if his legs were a little too short.

Riss yawned, thought about turning the �caster on. But she wasn't interested in martial music, some braying announcer talking about how noble the king was and how the evil Shaoki would now be paying for their sins and so forth.

Why, she thought, was she messing with success?

She and Redon had stayed incommunicado, except for periodic orders to the kitchens, for almost two days.

She was starting to decide she was almost human again, and was looking forward to her island on Trimalchio IV, and maybe buying one of those rockets Spada had used to watch the waves from underneath.

And she was wondering if she wanted to take Redon with her to her island� or let things just be solo. Maybe the latter would be a good idea, while she sorted out just what she felt, beyond good old-fashioned lust, for the pilot.

Speaking of which, she sat up and thought about joining him for a shower, and whatever else arose.

The door to the outside world banged open, and Prince Wahfer was standing there, wearing full dress uniform.

Which left Riss at a bit of a loss.

"M'chel," he said, "I have come to ask you to join me."

"Get the hell out of my quarters," Riss snarled.

"I want you for my consort," Wahfer said grandiosely, as if he weren't listening. "My partner. To join me in ruling the Khelat Cluster!"

M'chel was wondering what the hell he was talking about when the fresher door opened, and Redon Spada, wearing only a towel, came out, having heard the voices and looking perplexed.

Wahfer's eyes goggled.

"You! Who are� what are you doing here?"

"None of your goddamned business," Spada growled.

"I told you to get the hell out of my�" Riss started. Wahfer's hand was on the flap of his holster.

Redon Spada saw the movement, dove for the pistol in his belt over a chair.

Wahfer's pistol was sliding out of the holster.

Spada wouldn't make it in time.

Riss moved very quickly.

Her pistol was beside her, on the nightstand, about which Spada had chided her for her paranoia.

It came up smoothly, the safety slid off, and Riss fired three times.

The blasts were very loud in the room.

All three hit Wahfer in the chest, and he made a choked noise, his arms windmilled, and he dropped limply.

Behind Wahfer, in the doorway, was some aide or other. He started to move for his own gun, saw Riss's leveled pistol, froze, and backed out into the corridor, his hands raised chest high.

Riss kicked the door closed in his face and made for the com.

"I think," she said, dialing, in a classic of understatement, "things may have changed a little while we were cuddling."

She looked over at the sprawled body. "The king is dead� Long live the king. Poor sorry bastard."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIFTY-FIVE � ^ Star Risk was glooming in its quarters the day after the king's memorial service.

Prince Wahfer's body had been ceremoniously cursed, since his coup collapsed instantly. No one cared about the circumstances of his death.

In addition to Star Risk's other moils and toils, the Shaoki, emboldened by the royal deaths and the rather confused directorate that the royalty of Khelat had cobbled together, had gone back to shooting a mean almost guerrilla war on Irdis, and open warfare on the uninvaded worlds.

There was only one bright note. Jasmine's program had run its course very smoothly:

Star Risk's, and its employees', paychecks for two months in advance, plus the contracted victory bonus, had been neatly and automatically lifted from the Khelat national treasury and bounced through six worlds' state banks before ending up in a nice, anonymous number-call bank account on a seventh world�not Trimalchio IV.

"So we should just say stick it, and go home," Goodnight said.

"I vote we remain here. There are still Shaoki to kill," Grok said.

"Enough slaughter for the moment," Jasmine counseled, patting Grok's paw. "Practice peace and philosophical ponderings."

"If I have to," Grok grunted. "But I do not have to like it."

"We signed a contract," Riss argued. "And it's not fulfilled."

Goodnight snorted.

"This from the woman who started all this double-doublecrossing. How pious!"

"It is not piety," von Baldur said. "It is a matter of common decency and moral justice. We have never broken a contract�yet�without cause."

"True," Goodnight said. "Looks like crap on the old resume."

"I suggest," Riss said, "that we all think about this situation a bit, and meet maybe tomorrow and vote on it."

"I do remind you," King said, "that if we decide to be upright and moral, we'll have to give the bonus back."

"Gad," Goodnight drawled. "Do you think we are but whores for the common day, concerned only with our bankbooks?"

"I do indeed," King declared.

Late on the second day�the meeting had been pushed at von Baldur's request to give him another twenty-four E-hours to reach his decision�the five were brought running by a �cast being monitored by their com center.

"�will be met with a proper response."

A blare of static, then the message started over:

"All combatants, Khelat, Shaoki, and their hirelings. This is the Alliance Peacekeeping Force, now entering your cluster.

"It has been determined by the Alliance that your increasingly bloody struggle is imperiling the peace of your sector.

"A truce is declared, to take effect immediately. Alliance peacekeepers will be landed on both Khelat and Shaoki capital worlds. All soldiers are ordered to disarm immediately. An Alliance commission will determine proper justice and reparations due.

"Final peace has come to the Khelat Sector. Any continued violence will be met with a proper response."

A pause, then the message began once more.

Von Baldur waved to an officer, and the com was muted.

"What, in the name of Socrates, would bring the Alliance into this?" Grok wondered.

Very suddenly, Riss got it.

"Freddie� remember Anya Davenport's representative told Jasmine that Davenport was headed to our cluster?"

King got it first.

"Omni Foods!"

"Just so," von Baldur said. "A dangerously clever woman. We were not providing the main on schedule, so she got Omni in her pocket and they called in enough votes in Parliament to authorize intervention. Now Omni will be able to get its main� And Khelat has a new master.

"And Anya Davenport will get very, very rich. Clever. Very clever." There was nothing but admiration in his voice.

"We have been doublecrossed," Riss said, and started laughing.

"Aren't we assuming a lot?" Goodnight asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he motioned to the com officer. "Gimme a mike, and patch me in to whatever frequency the Alliance is �casting on."

"Yessir."

"You don't think," Riss asked, "that anybody with the Force will admit to Davenport being there, do you?"

Goodnight motioned her to silence.

In minutes, there was an Alliance officer standing by.

"Star Risk, this is Peacekeeper Seventeen. You should be advised that we have every intention�"

"Screw all that," Goodnight said. "The only question we've got is, What the hell took you so long?"