Part 58 (1/2)

That fist was trembling a little now, but only partially with age and weariness. ”Mutinous sc.u.m!” Beraton roared. ”Hand me your sidearm!” He s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the other's trembling hand, knowing proudly that the heavy weapon in his own was staying level with murderous steadiness. ”I'm placing you under . . . no.

No, by all the G.o.ds, I'm not arresting you. You'll have one chance yet to redeem yourself, and why should you sit safe in a buried cell while better men and women die up here? Get in the car, and drive!”

Chapter 17.

Chen stared at Hana. Even after the shocks of recent days and hours, her mere presence here at the Fortress still jolted and astonished him.

The implications of her presence began to come upon him only gradually, in the moments after the first shock.

His response to her greeting was not entirely happy. ”What're you doing here?” he demanded.

While Olga stared at the two of them in silence, Hana looked around, then grabbed Chen by his s.p.a.cesuited arm and pulled him aside, a few steps down a narrow catwalk nearby. It was a pa.s.sage among exposed structural elements, where it seemed likely that they would be able to count on at least a few moments of relative privacy.

”I'm doing the same thing here that you are,” Hana said to him then. ”They had me locked up on the s.h.i.+p, but now I'm free.”

”Locked up.”

”Yes, of course.” Hana gave her head a rapid little shake, her usual way of expressing the opinion that someone else was being unnecessarily slow. ”The prime minister's security people rounded me up near the capital shortly after the Empress was killed. Of course I didn't even know at the time that she was dead. Neither did you. But now they think that we had some connection with it.” And she favored Chen with her familiar little conspiratorial smile.

Chen nodded. The gesture was not really a sign of agreement or belief, only that he understood what she was saying. A few days ago he would have taken at face value just about anything that Hana might have said to him. But no longer.

As if she sensed some change in him, Hana's own manner now turned mildly accusing. ”What've you been doing since you got here, Chen? What're you up to now?”

Olga, who was hovering near, was looking as if she might at any moment remember that Chen was officially still her prisoner. But before she intervened in the conversation, one of the dragoons who had separated himself from the main group that was still on the next lower terrace came up a nearby stair to Hana. The manner of this soldier's approach was not that of a guard approaching a prisoner, but rather that of a private addressing an officer-in recent days Chen had become familiar with both att.i.tudes.

”Uhh,” said the soldier. It was a tentative sound, made in his throat as he approached Hana hesitantly.

Chen had the strong impression that his next word was going to be ”Ma'am.”

Hana turned to him with annoyance. ”You guys figure it out, can't you? Let me alone for a minute.”

The soldier nodded silently, turned and walked back toward his group, obediently leaving her alone.

Hana, as soon as the young man was gone, turned back to Chen and saw how he was looking at her.

Quickly she offered an explanation: ”Some of them seem to think I'm someone important, just because I was kept locked up in a private cabin-but never mind about that. What's been going on here? Where did these berserkers come from?”

Chen studied her. Hana's clothes, the only civilian garments on anyone in sight, were worn and dirty-looking. She had evidently not had an easy time of it, traveling the kilometers between here and the Salutai s.h.i.+p at the docks. But the clothes Hana was wearing now had been expensive garments once, not the kind Chen was used to seeing her wear. She had no s.p.a.cesuit. Neither did any of the dragoons in sight. Of course, so far the Fortress's life support systems were still working beautifully, and no one needed s.p.a.cesuits. So far.

”I don't know where the berserkers came from,” said Chen.

”And what've you been doing?”

He started to open his mouth to tell his old friend Hana about his meeting with the Prince, but the words died somewhere inside him before they could be spoken. ”Surviving,” he said instead. Definite suspicion had been born.

Olga, looking increasingly suspicious herself, and ill-at-ease at being so outnumbered by dragoons, was hovering nearer and nearer to Chen and Hana.

”This is Olga,” said Chen, turning to make the belated introduction. ”She and I came out here trying to find some heavy weapons.”

”So did we,” said one of the two other Templars who had been visible among the diffuse group.

Evidently drawn by the sight of familiar uniforms, they had been approaching slowly. Both of them looked worn and shocked. The Templar who had just spoken went on: ”But someone's already hauled it all away, what little heavy stuff there really was out here.”

Chen turned back to Hana. ”So, the security people grabbed you on Salutai and locked you up. But why did they bring you here?”

She accepted the question coolly. ”They had some idea of confronting the Prince with me, evidently.

Trying to make it look as if we had some deadly conspiracy going, and he was in on it-it's all really stupid.” She paused. ”Of course, now . . .”

”Now what?”

”Well. I hate to credit it, but it looks now as if the Prince may have turned goodlife.”

”Prince Harivarman?”

Chen had been about to ask Hana about Mr. Segovia's face on the communicator screen, but the accusation against the Prince-and coming from Hana herself of all people-had temporarily blasted Mr.

Segovia entirely out of Chen's thoughts. Before he could refocus, Hana was off in a different direction.

”Tell you what, Chen. Let me go down there and talk to these people for a few minutes. I'll see if I can get them to organize themselves a little better, so we can all do something constructive together. Don't you and your friend go away.”

”We won't,” said Chen mechanically.

With a parting smile Hana moved away from them, going down another stair to talk to the dragoons.

Olga stepped up beside Chen as the other young woman departed. Olga said: ”She's supposed to be their prisoner? She doesn't act like one.”

”No, she doesn't,” agreed Chen.

Most of the dragoons were now gathering in one place, making a knot of people on the next terrace down. The two Templars, who appeared to be wandering around rather dazedly, had now rejoined the gathering there. Chen saw that the dragoons were now moving the communicator. Maybe they were hoping for better reception. Hana was embedded in the group, talking to them. At this distance Chen couldn't tell what she was saying, but a couple of the soldiers were now repositioning the communication device so its screen was no longer visible where Olga and Chen were standing.

”Where'd you meet her?” Olga muttered suspiciously.

Chen sighed. ”On Salutai. Of course. It was a kind of a political club. We were supposed to be working to get Prince Harivarman recalled to power. And now she's trying to tell me that the Prince . . .”

Chen broke off. His memory had suddenly shown him the tall robot pacing in pursuit of him, with Prince Harivarman's voice calling him, booming from its speakers. The Prince, goodlife.Goodlife.But no, it couldn't possibly be.

”Huh.” It sounded as if Olga disapproved of organization on Prince Harivarman's behalf. Or maybe she was only envious again, of people who had time and opportunity to make up things like political clubs.

Chen said suddenly: ”Come on. Let's move over this way just a little. I want to try to see something.”

The two of them, with Chen for once in the lead, did a little climbing, maneuvering around and behind some structural supports, the t.i.tanic bones of the Fortress, that stood exposed here in the immediate vicinity of the firing range. In a few moments Chen had reached a point from which it was possible to see the communicator screen once more.

”What is it?” Olga asked, hanging on his shoulder from behind. ”What's wrong?”