Storm Force: Book Three of the Last Legion Series (4 page)

Yohns grinned, thought,
A little late, fellows
, and ran into the jungle, to where his small lifter was hidden.

• • •

“I have a transmission from Tungi,” the technician reported.

“Track it!” Njangu ordered.

• • •

The first Grierson landed half a dozen meters from the sprawling villa above the village. Other I&R craft slammed down nearby, blocking all exits from Tungi.

Garvin and a squad of troops doubled out of the rear ramp of the Grierson and leapfrogged toward the villa, blasters ready. No fire came to meet them.

“Sir,” a soldier said. “I smell smoke. Something’s burning!”

Garvin sniffed. “Sure is.” He keyed his com. “Get the fire brigade in here. The quarry’s self-destructing!”

• • •

Njangu buckled himself into the high-speed lifter, once a civilian lim, listening to the ‘cast on a belt transceiver. Beside it, he had two holstered pistols.

“Sibyl Base, you got a location on that cast from Tungi?” he asked. Waiting, he turned to the pilot.

“Running Bear, get us in the air. Like yesterday.”

The lim’s drive whined, and it jumped forward, airborne even as the com crackled a response to Njangu’s question.

• • •

“Sybil Base,” Garvin said. “This is Janus Six. The whole goddamned house is going up, and there’s no firemen here yet. We’re losing everything, over.”

“This is Sibyl Base. Fire response still one-zero away. Do what you can, over.”

Another transmission overrode it.

“Janus Six, this is Sibyl Six Actual. Screw the house and get back in the air.” Njangu gave coordinates. “And haul ass. The game’s afoot.”

• • •

Ab Yohns took his lifter into the clearing, pushed his way into brush, and grounded. It was about two hours after dawn. He got out, took a small sender from his pocket, pressed it again.

Dirt shifted, and a square section of the clearing lifted, slid aside. Inside was a thirty-meter yacht, drive already warming, nav position set for one of the asteroids off G-Cumbre, all accomplished by his first transmission after fleeing Tungi.

From the asteroid he’d signal for pickup, then wait for Redruth to come get him.

Yohns took a moment to admire his cleverness. Years ago, he’d had work crews dig a wine cellar in his villa, the crew imported from Leggett City. He’d done the finishing work and installed the electronics himself.

Similarly, he’d had another crew of workmen, these picked up from the city’s casual labor pools, excavate the foundations and storage for a hunting camp here on the shore of Mullion Island east of Chance Island.

The prickling that’d sent him into flight was gone. In half an hour, he’d be beyond Confederation reach, and on his way to being a very rich man in Alena Redruth’s empire.

Behind him, Njangu Yoshitaro lifted out of cover, aiming a long-barreled pistol. He pulled the trigger, and the dart spat across the clearing, taking Yohns in the neck. Yohns had a second to slap a hand to what might’ve been an insect bite, then dropped bonelessly. Njangu holstered the dart gun, drew his blaster.

“Let’s roll him up, Running Bear.”

The big Amerind stood, stretched. “Damned glad I’m not one of your I&R folks. I think a snail ate my balls off while we were waiting.”

They went across the clearing to the slumped Yohns.

“We’ll strip him down, check everything, including his mouth to make sure he’s not loaded with a lethal pill,” Njangu said. He took plas cuffs from a pouch. “Then we’ll wrap him like he was for the roasting.

“Which he is.”

The two guards escorted Ab Yohns into the room, went out, and closed the door. The compartment was comfortably fitted, and might have been a living room, except there were no windows or coms.

Sitting, very relaxed, were Njangu Yoshitaro and Jon Hedley.

“Sit down,” Hedley said. “There are drinks over there. Nothing with alcohol in it.”

“I’ll decline.”

“If you want,” Njangu said, “I’ll have a drink out of any of them. They’re not drugged.”

Yohns smiled, sat down.

“I assume the effects of the knockout shot have worn off,” Hedley said. “The doctor assured us you’ve had normal functions for some hours now.”

“I’m fully functional,” Yohns said. “This is most civilized.”

“Why not?” Hedley said. “We’re professionals, and assume you are, too. My name’s Hancock, and this is Dexter, by the way. He’s the one who came up with the scheme that trapped you.”

“Ah?” Yohns inclined his head. “Well done.”

Njangu nodded.

Hedley stood. “I wanted to introduce myself, reassure you that you’re in the hands of the Confederation, and will be dealt with according to all legal considerations, or as many as circumstances permit.”

“Thank you,
Mil
Hedley,” Yohns said. “I recognized you from the holos.”

“Alas, how flipping fame spreads,” Hedley murmured. “Dexter, you may take it from here.” He smiled, and left.

“I don’t believe I recognize you, however,” Yohns said.

“As the boss said, the name’s Dexter.”

“Very well … Dexter.”

“In Tungi, you were known as Ab Yohns,” Njangu said. “Your real name?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure I remember what my real name is. People in my profession frequently find cause to use aliases. Let’s leave it at Yohns, since I’ve been comfortable with that label for quite a number of years.

“What is in store for me, if I might ask?”

“Like the boss said, you’ll be taken care of, if you give us what we want. Which I assume you already figured out.”

“Which is?”

“Everything you’ve got about Larix, Kura, Protector Alena Redruth and his forces.”

“I’m afraid you’re in for a surprise.”

“How so?”

“Have
you
ever seen Redruth in person?”

“I even had a chance to shoot at him once,” Njangu said. “Missed.”

“You’re far ahead of me. I doubt if you’ll believe me, but I’ve never met the man.”

“No belief is a nice, comfortable way to put it,” Njangu said.

“But no more than the truth. I was hired, through a third- or fourth-hand party a long time ago, back on Centrum, by the Protector. I gave him good service, was well paid for it. When the situation loomed toward intolerable, I decided to depart the Confederation and spend some quiet time on the frontiers until things settled out.

“I looked in the area of my employer’s worlds. I wasn’t sure I wanted to live on either Larix or Kura, because, as I’m sure you know, kings fear their spymasters. I thought it might be well to be a little distant from his attentions.

“Redruth himself suggested I emigrate to Cumbre, where I could continue to provide services, since he has a strong desire to add this system to his holdings.

“Perhaps I will chance a glass of water.”

Njangu poured a glass, sipped, then gave it to Yohns.

“I came to Cumbre with no more than an earth-hour’s layover on Larix. I could perhaps give you my memories of the spaceport, but not much more. As for his worlds, what I know is from holos and gazetteers. You certainly know more about his military than I do.

“I’d planned eventually to flee to Larix. That’s where the monies he’s paid are deposited, so I’ll hardly be desperate for work. He would have found a place for me if for no other reason than to keep me from mischief.”

“There are drugs to check what you’re telling me,” Njangu said, still skeptical.

The corner of Yohns mouth twitched.

“There are, indeed,” he said, a bit of a rasp in his voice. “But they’ll do no more than confirm what I just said. I’m afraid I’m a bit of an empty vessel.

“But that isn’t to say I want to be thrown into a dungeon with the rats, and have whatever tortures, psychic or real, wreaked on me. I despise pain.

“As your commander said, I
am
a professional. I’m more than content to be tucked in whatever comfortable prison you have on some distant island, and give as much help as I can while you pursue your venture against Redruth. That should ensure my continued survival, in a measure of comfort.”

His voice suddenly sounded a bit unsure. “Do you think such an arrangement might be possible?”

Njangu, carefully blank-faced, stood.

“I’ll discuss this with my superiors. I’m afraid we can’t leave you in this room, by the way. It’s not as secure as others. Someone will escort you back to your previous compartment in a few minutes. Tomorrow we’ll continue our discussion, and perhaps in the meantime you’ll think if you don’t remember a bit more than you said about Larix and Kura.”

Yohns was on his feet, holding out a hand.

“I’m sure we’ll work well together.”

Yoshitaro didn’t want to take his hand, but did.

He went out to where the guards waited. “Take him back to the clank. Oh yeah. Put him on a suicide watch, round the clock.”

“Yes, sir,
Cent
.”

• • •

Njangu rolled to his feet, the pistol always under his pillow in hand as a fist thundered at the thin door.

“Yeh?”

“
Cent
Yoshitaro!” It was the Bachelor Officer Quarters’ Charge of Quarters. “It’s an emergency!”

Njangu had the door unlocked and open in a second.

“Sir,” the CQ said, “II Section says you’re to go to what they said was the prisoner’s quarters at once.”

• • •

“That’s a hard way to go,”
Mil
Hedley said, looking down at the bloody corpse. “Damned if I think I’d have the flipping guts to chew through my own tongue and then just quietly bleed to death.”

“I don’t understand why he killed himself,” Njangu said.

“Who knows?” Hedley said. “Spies aren’t the most stable people. Maybe he didn’t believe us when we said we weren’t gonna toss him in an iron maiden just for laughs.

“More likely, he started thinking about how an oh-so-clever agent got his flipping ass trapped by a bunch of infantrymen with dirt under their fingernails, and his ego told him it couldn’t handle things.”

“I had a suicide watch mounted,” Njangu said, holding back his anger. “He asks for some fresh water, and both guards go out of the cell. I know two troopies who’re going to be mounting suicide watch on each other on the smallest frigging reef on this frigging planet.” Promise made, he forgot about the two for the moment, looked back down at Yohns.

“All this goddamned work,” he hissed. “To end up with — ”

“With nothing,” Hedley said. “Except he won’t be hanging over our shoulder, watching, anymore. But he could’ve been so much, much flipping more,” he said.

Yoshitaro remembered the extent of Yohns’s claimed knowledge.

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” An idea came. “Or maybe we can still get some miles out of his sorry ass.”

“Like how?”

Njangu turned a profile to Hedley. “Don’t I make an utterly lovely Ab Yohns?”

The yacht belonging to the late Ab Yohns matched orbits with the dumbbell-shaped asteroid, then landed. A
velv
held position about three kilometers away from the asteroid.

“Finished with engines and all that nautical rot,” Ben Dill said.

Njangu Yoshitaro got up from the copilot’s chair. “Damn. I was sure you were gonna stack it up on that rock on final.”

“You see your problem?” Ben asked. “You’re in the hands of the finest pilot humanity has produced since, oh, mebbe Orville and Wilbur Lilienthal, and do you show proper respect? Hah! I say again, hah!

“Your biggest problem, Yoshitaro, is that you’ve never learned to fly, so you have no method of judging a natural birdman like myself.” Dill caught himself. “Yoish, but I’m a dolt.”

“No kid.”

“No, I mean I went and volunteered to fly you out here for your rendezvous with destiny, and it never occurred: You’re playing Ab Yohns. Who was a spy. And a pilot, or else he wouldn’t of had this here yacht.”

“Don’t remind me of the holes in my cover.”

“What’s gonna happen if somebody asks you to spin a few fast orbits around Larix?”

“I’m going to develop the worse case of vertigo you’ve ever seen.” Yoshitaro went to the passenger compartment, opened the hatch. “All right, gentlepeople. You can sweep in here now.” Four sterile-suited technicians went to work on the pilot’s compartment as they’d done the rest of the ship. Every surface had been cleaned twice of all fingerprints. After that, prints from three or four hands, most blurred, were strategically placed. Then Yoshitaro’s prints went everywhere. Now Dill’s fingerprints were scrubbed from the controls, and Njangu, on command, touched and pressed things here and there.

Dill made his farewells, clambered into a suit, and jetted up from the yacht’s skin toward the waiting ship. The technicians made sure there were no stray hairs, spittle, or waste in the yacht’s cycling system, then followed him out.

Yoshitaro was alone, half a system from anything.

“The stage is set,” he muttered. “The musicians have tuned up. The spotlight’s on the goddamned podium.”

He crossed into the fresher, looked at his semi-new face not for the first nor the fifteenth time since the doctors had finished. His hair now had a gray streak at the temple, and his skin had been weathered, aged. Yohns had supposedly been in his late forties. Yoshitaro thought he could pass for mid-thirties, maybe a bit older, and hoped Redruth didn’t have Yohns’s birth certificate handy. He also hoped that the medicos could, as promised, reverse their craft when he came home.

“The maestro comes into the spotlight. Taps his baton. There’s silence in the hall.”

Yoshitaro punched a sensor, and Yohns’s bleat for help spat toward Larix.

“The maestro lifts his baton, and goes ass over teakettle into the orchestra pit as the first kazoo begins playing.

“Shit, I need a drink. I hope I like what Yohns drank. And, come to think, Njangu ol’ buddy, you better start worrying about talking to yourself when you’ve only been by yourself for an hour.”

• • •

Dill hadn’t needed to point out the problems with Yoshitaro playing Yohns. First was the assumption that just because Yohns had never met Redruth, there wasn’t a handy photo somewhere in Larix’s files that’d doom Njangu. Second, Yoshitaro knew almost nothing about the spy, so any bio data Larix had could be equally deadly.

Even if he carried off his deception, he wasn’t exactly the best-equipped spy in history. Just for openers, there’d be a problem, if he got in place, in reporting.

The only reason Angara approved the mission was the assumption that Larix/Kura probably had Confederation coms, as did Cumbre. So all, in theory, that was necessary was for Njangu to acquire one and make slight modifications with one of the four carefully hidden chips he carried. In theory.

But brooding wouldn’t accomplish much, any more than drinking. Yoshitaro looked for something to fill the hours, found a dozen holos, mostly the basic tracts of various religious sects. He wondered how Yohns had managed to reconcile his profession with these tracts, most of which were somewhat opposed to dishonesty and treason.

Maybe the spy had been curious about how the other half thought. Or maybe he believed in some hereafter, and was trying to get in the good graces of somebody, everybody.

In any event, the holos weren’t to Yoshitaro’s taste, although he read them carefully, and found a measure of delight in tracking the myriad contradictions.

He worked out hard, remembering every
kata
he’d been taught, developed a few sequences of his own.

Fighting, you idiot?
he thought.
Better you think about zen running
.

Njangu didn’t suit up and explore the asteroid, for fear he’d miss an incoming signal from his rescuers, or that he’d manage to lock himself out as well.

Deep down, he wasn’t sure if he didn’t hope Redruth would abandon him to the “enemy,” so he could just go back home and figure out something a deal safer.

Time, more time passed.

Finally, his com beeped. Yoshitaro touched a sensor, responding in the same code he’d asked for extraction on.

“Stand by,” the return came, automatically decoded by his com. “You’re located. Pickup in twenty-three E-hours.”

The com went dead.

Less than a dozen minutes from the ETA, a warship closed on the asteroid. Njangu’s
Jane
’s identified it as the old
Corfe
, a Confederation destroyer leader that had been Redruth’s flagship when he attempted to take over Cumbre. Two Nana-boats gave “high” cover to the
Corfe
. Its missile tubes and close-range chainguns were unmasked, ready.

A hangar port yawned, and a small ship darted out, grounding on the asteroid. Five suited men came out. Two took defensive positions close to the yacht, the other three approached the ship’s lock, blasters ready.

The outer door buzzed open, closed, and pumps let air into the airlock.

Yoshitaro touched an intercom sensor. “Come on in.”

“Stand clear of the door,” a metallic voice answered. “Do not move when we enter.”

Yoshitaro spun in his control chair, his hands in plain view as the airlock door opened. One man came in quickly, looked back and forth, said something into his suit mike, and a second entered. The first cleared the yacht’s other compartments, came back, and a third man entered the compartment. The first two kept their weapons on Njangu.

The third man opened his faceplate, and Yoshitaro recognized him.

“Ab Yohns, I might assume,” the man said. “My name is Celidon. I command Larix and Kura’s armed forces.”

Celidon was an officer with a reputation for efficient brutality. Cashiered from the Confederation, he’d ended up working for Redruth as a mercenary. He was tall, with a scarred forehead. His expression was coldly amused.

“I’m very damned glad to see you,” Njangu said. “I’d clap hands, but I don’t want to get shot by your cronies.”

“I’ll take the welcome as having been expressed,” Celidon said. “Get your possessions and come with me. I want to be out of the Cumbre system this E-day.”

“I don’t have much of anything,” Yoshitaro said. “That bag there, no more. I left in a bit of a hurry.”

“Suit up then,” Celidon ordered. “Suit frequency thirty-six. My man will carry your things.” Yoshitaro obeyed, noticing that one of Celidon’s men searched the inside of his suit before letting him put it on.

The man escorted Njangu into the lock and cycled them out onto the asteroid. Moments later, the second man came out, then, after a bit, Celidon. He cycled the airlock door shut.

“Are you going to destroy my ship?” Yoshitaro asked.

“No,” Celidon said. “The blast might attract attention, and you’ve set enough wasps buzzing already. But I did leave a little present for anyone who discovers the boat and opens the lock.”

Njangu hoped no one decided to recover the yacht anytime soon, at least not anyone he knew.

They transited to the
Corfe
, and Njangu was told to unsuit, then led to a bare room, efficiently searched by a crew member, and left alone.

The
Corfe
’s drive activated, then, sometime later, the ship made its first N-space jump. Njangu, having nothing else to do, lay down and tried to sleep.

An unknown time later, an armed man and woman took him to a large, spartanly equipped stateroom. Celidon sat behind a desk and motioned Yoshitaro to a seat. On the desk were Yoshitaro’s bag and a heavy, rather old-fashioned blaster.

“Is this the only weapon you brought?” Celidon asked.

“No,” Yoshitaro said. “May I?”

Celidon nodded.

Njangu slid one hand inside his belt, down behind his scrotum, and took out a small, flat pistol, a projectile weapon firing explosive charges.

“My men didn’t find that, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Protector Redruth is very particular about those whom he allows to carry weapons,” Celidon said. “But since you’ll almost certainly be invited to join our government, there should be no problem. Thank you for your honesty.”

Yoshitaro held out his hands. “I haven’t forgotten whom I work for.”

“Good,” Celidon said. “I’ll have the louts who failed to find that weapon punished. One thing I might suggest. Don’t carry any weapons, not even a knife, into the Protector’s presence. He becomes … nervous.”

“Thank you for the warning.”

Celidon went to a sideboard, slid it open.

“A drink?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“This is a triple-herbed tea,” Celidon said, pouring two glasses from a metal pot. “I find it improves my thinking.” He handed one glass to Yoshitaro.

“You’ve certainly served the Protector … and his worlds … well, over the years.”

“And I’ve been rewarded,” Yoshitaro said.

“Your payment awaits you on Larix, in our most secure repository,” Celidon said. He sipped, looked at Njangu curiously. “You must have taken up your … craft at an early age. I wasn’t expecting someone as young as you appear.”

“Unfortunately, I’m somewhat older than I look,” Yoshitaro replied smoothly.

Celidon waited for details, then realized none would be forthcoming.

“I decided to come along on the pickup,” he said, “because I thought you and I should have a chance to talk before Protector Redruth greeted you.”

Njangu put on an interested expression, stayed silent.

“I’m sure you’re aware that autocrats are, with reason, very suspicious of their secret agents, particularly those who’re executives.”

“Of course.”

“You might be interested in knowing that I not only hold the post of Commander of the Armed Forces but, as of six months gone, head of the Protector’s intelligence apparat as well. The latter is a position I despise, and hold only through necessity.

“The man who held that assignment before me fancied himself an expert on Machiavellianism. I’ve noticed those who loudly pride themselves as intriguers generally end up with a puzzled expression and several inches of steel between their own sixth and seventh ribs, but that’s as may be.

“This wight decided he would play politics with Protector Redruth against me. Why, I have no idea, for I’m quite busy and content with my regular duties and had no designs on him or his station.

“At any event, he became a bit of a threat, and it became necessary for me to … deal with him. So now his duties are included in mine, and he is ashes in the wind.

“I’ll explain how that pertains to you. I rather assume protector Redruth will offer you a post within the government, probably with the rank of
Leiter
. He’ll want you to be his special advisor on the Cumbrian matter, and, if you serve well, you’ll be promoted.

“It’s not inconceivable you could end up as head of all security services, replacing me. At present, I would neither object nor recommend you for that rank.

“But if it happens, I’d suggest you remember what happened to that other man, who thought himself devious, and restrict any ambitions you might have beyond that.”

Celidon smiled coldly. “We’ll be arriving off Larix in two more jumps. One of my staff will escort you to more comfortable quarters, and you have the freedom of the ship.

“Welcome to Larix and Kura, Ab Yohns.”

Yoshitaro got up, bowed, and followed the woman out of the compartment.

Stupid bastard
, he thought.
Telling me those who loudly proclaim their sneakiness always get sneaked on, and then doing the same thing himself. As if I hadn’t been around enough fools and their cliques back home that I had to deal with when they got big eyes on me or my people
.

But still, I’d best be careful
.