The Knights of the Black Earth (18 page)

The ‘bot continued
to lurk about, obviously convinced that Xris was going to light up the moment
its electronic eye was turned, and finally Xris gave up and put the twist away.
The ‘bot retreated and Harry came back with two plates.

“Fried meat, fried
potatoes, eggs. You’re going to need a heart replacement before you’re forty,”
Quong observed testily.

“Sure, Doc.” Harry
was unperturbed. “Good thing I’ve got you around to take care of me.”

“Not when you
abuse your system like that. Besides, of what use is a new heart if the
arteries leading to it are clogged? I am fifty years old and in far better
physical condition....”

The argument went
on, as it did almost every time the two sat down for a meal together. The
discussion about cholesterol levels flowed around Xris. He found it irritating,
had to bite off a snide comment.

Fortunately, Jamil
had just entered. Xris waved to his friend, who was looking extraordinarily
handsome in his expensive business suit. As he passed through the restaurant,
several women, with typical Aurigan forthrightness, yelled at him to join them.
Jamil smiled, made polite responses, and sat down beside Xris.

“Breakfast?” Xris
asked.

“The food’s not
bad,” Harry mumbled, his mouth full.

“I’ve eaten
already,” Jamil answered, adding casually, “She makes a great omelette.”

Harry gulped,
swallowed.
“She?
How the hell do you manage? You just got here last
night!”

“He keeps himself
in excellent physical condition,” Quong intoned. “Women appreciate that.”

“Fine, then.” Xris
interrupted what was likely to be either an argument about clogged arteries or
a discussion of Jamil’s sex life. “Harry, did you check in with Raoul and the
Little One last night?”

“Yeah.” Harry
nodded. “I met the Loti in the bar of the fancy hotel he’s staying in. Olicien’s
putting them up in style.”

“Did Raoul manage
to get a layout of the Olicien place?”

Harry patted his
suit pocket. “I’ve got the diagram here. Raoul paid them a visit yesterday. The
bug people gave him a personal tour
and
took him to dinner. Adonian
charm, you know. The franchise is family-owned, small. This RFComSec contract
is their biggest account and, since they’ve got the equipment to service space
stations, they’re eager to land others like it. Oh, and by the way”— Harry
winked—”as far as they’re concerned, RFComSec is a Naval ‘refitting and
maintenance station.’ “

“That’s what they’ve
been told to say, obviously. Does Raoul think the Olicien people know the
truth?”

“Not a chance. Oh,
they know it’s a Naval base—”

“All the people
running around in uniforms would probably tip them off,” Xris said dryly.

Harry grinned. “Yeah.
According to the Little One, no one at Olicien has the least suspicion that
they’re dealing with anything as big as a
top-secret
naval base. Not
even the personnel who go up there. The empath gave them the once-over. To
them, the space station’s nothing more than a floating body-repair shop.”

“What’s the
timetable?” Jamil asked, preparing to set his chronometer.

“It’s
oh-eight-hundred now. We travel there, get ourselves into position by
oh-nine-hundred, which is when you and Harry are supposed to meet Raoul at the
Olicien HQ.” Xris looked at Harry, who confirmed.

“I went over that
with Raoul last night. He says it’s all fixed up. Jamil and I are high-level
company executives. He’s arranged for us to meet with their manager at
oh-nine-hundred.”

“Fine. The
spaceplane with the exterminators on board leaves the Olicien grounds at ten
hundred. The exterminators are scheduled to arrive at the space station at
thirteen hundred.”

“Three hours?”
Harry was impressed. “They must have hyperdrive.”

“They do,” Xris
said. “I took a look at the plane yesterday, spent some time chatting with one
of the mechanics. Said I was looking for work. The plane—”

“You short of
credits, Xris?” Harry asked anxiously. “ ‘Cause I’d be happy to loan you a few.”

Xris scratched his
forehead. Harry was a good fighter, an excellent pilot, and the best hovercraft
driver in the business. But, over the years, the big man had taken one too many
stun-blasts to the head.

“No, Harry.” Xris
was patient. “I’m not. But thanks anyway. We’re dealing with your standard
light-cargo spaceplane, with a few major exceptions. These include hyperspace
capability and an XP-28 computer upgrade.”

“Compliments of
the Royal Navy, no doubt. Your tax dollars at work, gentlemen,” Tycho muttered
through his translator.

“The Olicien plane’s
crew never deviates from their time schedule,” Xris continued, “so neither can
we. They’ve got a thirty-minute window to make their landing on the space
station or the trip’s scrubbed for the day, rescheduled. Security reasons,
obviously. RFComSec wants the exterminators there when the place is quiet—which
suits us fine.”

“I am all in favor
of quiet,” Quong agreed.

“Raoul and the
Little One join us at the Olicien plant at oh-nine-hundred. That gives Quong
and Tycho and me an hour to hijack the plane, load all the equipment. Plenty of
time, even if something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“He’s feeling
lucky,” Tycho observed.

Xris ignored him.

“Meanwhile, Raoul
and Harry and Jamil take over the Olicien facility. Will you need access codes
for the spaceplane, Harry?”

“With hyperspace
drive
and
an XP-28, you can bet on it. The bug people won’t want to
chance anyone taking joyrides in that baby. XP-28—my favorite computer system.”
Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “This is going to be a treat.”

“How long to
secure the facility?” Xris looked at Jamil.

“Ten minutes.
Twenty if we have to search for code cards and reprogram them.”

“I’ll give you
thirty, just in case. Meet us at the plane at oh-nine-thirty. How long do you
figure preparation for takeoff, Harry?”

“Not long. Most
likely the course will already be laid into the computer. Ten minutes.”

“And we’ve got
thirty. That gives us some breathing room. Everyone ready? Then let’s move out.”

Xris motioned to
the ‘bot, who trundled up. The amount they owed flashed across its screen.
Tycho entered the credit account number. The ‘bot thanked them and hoped they
had a wonderful day.

“We intend to,”
Xris told it as they left.

They climbed into
the hovervan. Harry asked the computer for directions to Olicien Pest Control.
A three-dimensional map appeared on the screen. They drove off.

Jamil studied the
layout of the facility. Raoul had learned— under duress—how to draw a fairly
clear diagram. But he found the task tedious in the extreme and Xris had never
been able to break the Adonian of the habit of embellishing the mundane work
with fanciful doodles. Jamil was forced to trace his route from the entrance to
the manager’s office through several large beetles; two eyes and a smiling mouth
had been added to the
O
of “Olicien.”

Quong worked on
Harry’s “contraption”—a device meant to look like a souped-up bug killer, but
which had other, far more interesting applications. Xris removed his business
suit, put on body armor which had been modified to free up his cybernetic arm
and leg, detached the useless cosmetic hand. From a compartment built into the
leg, the cyborg removed one of his weapons hands, attached it to the arm.

Quong looked up
from his work. “Which one is that?”

“Small rocket launcher.”

The rockets were
heat-guided. Xris’s servoelectric eye processed the target’s image and
downloaded it to the rocket just before launch. The small rocket would zero in
on its prey with unerring efficiency.

“Heavy-duty for
this job,” Quong observed.

“I trust I won’t
have to use it,” Xris said quietly.

Quong said
something else, but Xris pretended he didn’t hear. Once he was outfitted and
had done a systems check, he took out a twist, moved over to sit next to the
van’s open window for a smoke. He also pretended not to see that the others had
exchanged glances all around. They were worried—not about the job, but about
him.

Damn it, just let
me alone! he told them silently. When this is finished, it’ll all be okay. And
this is going to finish it. I know it. I’m due. I’ll be okay.

He watched the
smoke from the glowing twist whip out the window, watched the end of the twist
burn red in the rushing wind.

Quong finished
work on Harry’s bug “contraption,” set it aside, and changed into body armor
and fatigues. Tycho was wearing his armor beneath his civvies. A type developed
specially by his people, the body armor was completely transparent, to
accommodate his changes in skin coloration.

Chameleons are not
accustomed to wearing clothing, which interferes with their natural ability to
blend in with their surroundings. They are not, therefore, shy or modest. It
had taken the other team members a short time to get used to Tycho’s
transparent body armor. Now they no longer noticed. But the sight of the naked
chameleon often came as a shock to other, more inhibited humanoids.

Once everyone was
dressed, they settled back into their seats. Tycho assembled his beam rifle. He
and Quong discussed the current rise in Royal Treasury bonds and whether or not
Tycho thought the rise would continue and Quong should invest now or wait.
Jamil checked his weapons and sang along in his rich baritone with the music
from the local radio station. Harry enjoyed the drive. No one attempted to talk
to Xris, although he could feel their anxious gazes slide over him, then slide
quickly away. He smoked another twist.

They left the
central city, buzzed over the suburbs, and entered a large industrial park,
which appeared to be trying to hide the fact that it was an industrial park by
camouflaging itself with trees, pruned hedges, and a few placid ponds. The
buildings housing the various businesses were indistinguishable from one
another—long, low warehouses trying valiantly not to look like warehouses.

A sign posted at
the entrance to the park warned that space vehicles took off and landed on this
site. Hovercraft were advised, for their own safety, to keep close to ground
level and stay in the marked lanes.

“According to the
map, we’re coming up on it, Xris,” Harry reported, peering intently at the
various signs adorned with various company logos.

Xris left his seat
in the rear of the van, came to sit beside Harry.

“You can’t miss
it. The building’s painted bright yellow and there’s a giant plastic bug on the
front lawn. By the way, the spaceplane’s painted the same color.”

Harry shook his
head. “Hell of a thing to do to an XP-28. They’re sensitive, you know.”

“I know.” Xris was
sympathetic. “You two can commiserate over it.”

Harry slowed the
van. The others stared with interest out the window.

“Keep going,” Xris
advised. “The airstrip is another kilometer on ahead, at the end of this
tarmac. You can see the hangar—”

“It’s hard to
miss,” Jamil said dryly.

“I’ve seen some
ugly shades of yellow, but that’s the worst,” Quong stated. “Don’t you go
turning color to match.” He poked Tycho in the ribs.

“I don’t believe
that would be possible.” Tycho shuddered.

The van flew along
the marked route past the Olicien facility, heading for the hangar.

“The takeoff site’s
about a kilometer from the hangar, which puts it two kilometers from the main
building. The hangar sits between the building and the spaceplane, so there’s
not much chance that anyone happening to look out a window of the main Olicien
building would see anything funny going on with their spaceplane. Just in case
anyone did see us and took it into his head to report us to the local cops,
Quong’s going to disrupt their communications, both phone and vidnet.”

“Just as long as
the Doc doesn’t disrupt ours in the process,” Jamil said. “Remember the
Guaranty Fidelity Bank security job?”

Quong stiffened. “That
will not happen again, I assure you, Major Khizr! The device I have with me
blocks microwave transmissions only. Our comms work on the VHF band. Therefore,
Major—”

Xris was quick to
intervene. When the doctor got formal, trouble loomed.

“Look”—Xris
pointed—”they’ve got the spaceplane out.”

The others could
barely see the plane. Jamil produced binocs. Xris adjusted the lens in his
cybernetic eye, brought the distant plane into sharp focus.

“I can see four
people from this angle. Here’s where we leave the marked route, Harry. Take us
to that low rise over there, the one that overlooks the tarmac.”

Harry peered
through the windscreen, nodded.

“Drop us off
there,” Xris ordered.

Harry steered the
hovercraft for the hill, brought the vehicle down for a gentle landing. Quong
produced his scanner, did a quick search for other craft. They were alone. No
other vehicles nearby.

Xris opened the
back end of the van, climbed out. Quong, from inside, handed the equipment to
him. Tycho—rifle in hand— jumped to the ground and immediately began studying
the area, looking for the best possible site. When everything was unloaded and
Xris had run through the checklist, he looked at his chronometer.

“Oh-eight-forty-five.”
He turned back to the van. “On your way, Harry. Communications inside Olicien
go down at oh-nine-hundred. We’ll see you at the spaceplane at oh-nine-thirty.
Jamil— remember the code cards. Good-bye and good luck.”

Xris slammed shut
the double doors. The van lifted off, headed back in the direction of the
bright yellow building that was Olicien central.

“Move out,” Xris
ordered Tycho. “Keep us covered. Stun setting.”