Part 59 (2/2)
A considerable amount of test equipment, more elaborate than anything the Prince had been able to use as a lonely field historian, had been set up in this new courtyard and was already in use.
Harivarman looked up when Lescar entered, walking behind a prisoner with his arm in a sling. When the Prince saw who the prisoner was, he silently put down his electronic tools and came forward, staring.
”He was riding in a staff car,” Lescar reported succinctly, ”with Grand Marshall Beraton. But the old man is dead.”
The commuters' tube-car must be less crowded than usual this morning, thought Chen. It must be so, because how otherwise could he have dozed off, as he must have, sprawled out here on a pile of something or other aboard the train, lulled by its familiar swaying motion. And around him this morning his fellow students and other a.s.sorted travelers were being unusually silent. Because . . .
An approximation of full memory returned with a jolt, causing Chen to open his eyes quickly. He was lying on his back, indeed riding on some kind of a vehicle, jouncing faintly up and down on an improvised padding of what looked like household quilts and blankets. He had even been tied to his transportation, kept from falling off by a single strap around his waist.
The vehicle was something new to Chen's experience, a little too small to be a regular car. With considerable difficulty Chen finally recognized it as the carriage of a sizable self-propelled gun-the barrel would be retracted, somewhere under him, and he wondered what would happen if it had to be unlimbered suddenly.
He was being carried along a City street of the Fortress at a pace no swifter than a fast walk. Indeed, walking not far from Chen's side at the moment, keeping pace with his transport, was a coverall-clad woman whose face he felt he ought to recognize, though he had never seen her in person until this moment. Finally he identified the widely-known countenance of the Lady Beatrix. Well, he had never seen her depicted in a coverall.
He must have murmured something, for the former Princess turned to him. When she saw that Chen was awake, she came to walk closer at his side. Meanwhile the gun carriage, almost the size of a staff car, rolled on, as far as Chen could tell under the control of no one at all.
The lady said, matter-of-factly: ”I see you've decided to be with us again. How do you feel?”
”I'm all-ow.” Chen had tried to sit up, and felt evil reaction in several parts of his body at once. ”What happened?”
”Colonel Phocion shot the head off a rather large berserker, just as it was about to pick you up and tuck you away into its cargo compartment. And you were stunned, either by the blast or when a lot of various parts fell on top of you. But we couldn't see that there was anything much damaged; I think you're going to be all right now.”
”Colonel Phocion?” He'd heard the name somewhere; yes, someone who was supposedly gathering up heavy weapons.
”That's right. Using this seventy-five millimeter you're riding on now. That's the colonel walking up ahead of us. You'll get to talk to him presently; right now we're rather intent on getting to another part of the City. Shooting tends to draw berserkers.” And the lady looked up and around warily; right now the sky immediately above them was empty, the street around them free of menace.
Squinting down past his feet, in the direction he was being carried, Chen could see a lone figure pacing about half a block ahead of the gun carriage. The figure was clad in what must be heavy combat armor, just as in the adventure stories.
Then Chen suddenly remembered something else. ”Olga. Where's Olga?”
The lady looked at him. ”I don't know any Olga. Where was she when you saw her last?”
”Back in that tavern. Oh. Ow.”
”Then I'm afraid the outlook mightn't be too good for her.”
”Oh.” He loosened the strap that held him, and made himself sit up.
The lady walked closer, put a hand on Chen's arm. ”We can't turn back now, I'm afraid. And we've already come quite a distance from that tavern. So, you're Chen s.h.i.+zuoka. My name is Beatrix, if you haven't already recognized me.”
At any other time, Chen would have been overwhelmed at meeting the former Princess. Now he could only ask: ”Where're we going?”
”Following the colonel. He seems to know what he's about.”
Chen looked ahead again, at the impressive figure in heavy combat armor. Chen supposed that anyone who put that on became impressive. Even from the back the striding figure was imposing, with portions of the armor's outer surface streaked and blackened, suggesting recent exchanges with berserkers.
The self-propelled gun that Chen was riding on had evidently been programmed to follow the colonel along the street, rather like a giant robotic bulldog. The colonel turned a corner now, and presently it followed.
Chen took a quick look back, then another. ”Something's following us-”
The Lady Beatrix glanced back too. ”That's only our robotic ammo trailer.”
”Ah.” It was maintaining a distance of about a half block behind.
The lady raised her voice a little and called out. The striding figure in heavy armor stopped at once and turned, then gestured the robotic gun carriage to catch up. It accelerated, then stopped itself when it had nearly reached him.
”Colonel Phocion,” said Lady Beatrix, ”this is Chen s.h.i.+zuoka, as we thought. As you can see, he's awakened.”
A flushed, almost chubby face and graying temples showed behind the colonel's heavy faceplate. ”I want to talk to you,” he told Chen grimly, his voice coming from a small speaker below the transparent plate.
”But right now we have to keep moving.” He glanced back, into the curving grayness of the sky. There were a few more berserkers to be seen swarming there, well to the rear of the three traveling people.
”Our firing brought them out,” the colonel added. ”It's a little easier to fight them out near the outer surface. They're not there to interfere,” he added with a brief grin.
With a stride forward, and a motion of his hand, the colonel set the gun carriage in motion again.
”The outer surface?” Chen asked. He was feeling somewhat better already; not quite ready to jump down off the carriage and walk, but improving.
”The colonel's been out there almost since the attack started,” the Lady Beatrix explained. ”I just joined him within the hour, when he came back into the interior.”
”Sir, how do you fight them if they're not there? I mean-”
”Communications, young man,” the colonel said. ”There'll be a human fleet arriving here sooner or later.
I've been knocking out communication channels. When the fleet comes, the berserkers won't necessarily be able to tell that it's arrived.”
”I see, sir,” said Chen.
”Do you? There's something I'd like to see, something that's made me very d.a.m.ned curious about you,”
He stopped again, stopped his following machine, and demanded: ”Why was that d.a.m.ned berserker robot running all over the City bellowing your name? Did the Prince truly send it after you? If so, why?”
”I know he really sent it,” said the Lady Beatrix. ”I've told you that. And also that he wouldn't tell me anything.”
”Yes, My Lady,” said Phocion, and almost bowed. Then he glared at Chen. ”Well?”
”I have no idea, sir. Ma'am. I've talked to the Prince but once, and that briefly. Very briefly. I think he believed me, that I had nothing to do with the Empress being killed.”
Phocion glared at him some more, shook his head and muttered, and finally led on again. He turned off the street presently, and down a narrow alley through which the gun was barely able to pa.s.s. Then he stopped, kneeling beside a large but hardly conspicuous utility box. From somewhere Phocion's armored hand had produced a key, which he now used on the box to open it.
”Not supposed to still have this,” he muttered, regarding the key. ”Legacy of my tour as CO here. Looks like it's just as well I kept it.”
From a tool box underneath the gun carriage, Phocion took out an optical device that he plugged into a communications nexus in the utility box. The small holostage on the device lit up, and a moment later Prince Harivarman's head was imaged in it. The Prince's face turned sharply toward them-apparently he was aware that at least a tenuous contact had been established. His image was streaked with noise. Its lips moved, but no sound was coming through.
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