Dragon and Liberator

And Alison herself would be off somewhere about her own business instead of sitting here locked in a coffin-sized alien safe. Sometimes, she reflected, it didn't pay to play the what-if game too deeply.

"Don't worry about the flaggers," Neverlin said. "Money isn't the only thing that can ensure a man's loyalty."

Another voice called something, the words too faint for Alison to make out. "What?" Frost called back.

The other voice grew louder as its owner moved closer, until it was loud enough for Alison to understand. "—under the edge vent," the other said.

"Well, well," Frost said, a sudden malicious amusement in his voice. "So Morgan thinks he's clever."

"Get away from us with that thing," Neverlin snapped.

"Relax; it's not a bomb," Frost soothed. "It's the hyperspace tracer I planted on his ship a couple of months back."

There was a slight pause. "Really," Neverlin said, all calm and icy again. "Interesting."

"More stupid than interesting," Frost countered. "He must think we're amateurs. Dumbarton, check it for booby traps and bugs and then put it in my car."

"Yes, sir." A few soft footsteps and the other was gone.

"So you think Morgan was being stupid?" Neverlin asked.

"Don't you?" Frost countered.

"Oh, I wasn't referring to his foolishness in thinking these shuttles would take their occupants someplace worth tracing," Neverlin said. "I was referring to the fact that he accurately guessed our need for the Patri Chookoock's soldiers. And that he guessed it early enough to plant himself in here before our own security perimeter went up. I wonder what else he may have guessed."

"What he guessed?" Frost asked, his voice going cool. "Or what he might have been told?"

"An interesting conclusion for you to jump to," Neverlin said, matching his tone.

Alison smiled tightly to herself. Maybe some of the seeds of distrust she'd tried to plant between Neverlin and Frost were starting to grow.

"I didn't mean you, naturally," Frost said. "And my own troops are completely trustworthy. But the Patri didn't seem too thrilled about you taking away both his soldiers and this thing." He tapped the safe again.

"Though not nearly as unhappy as he was about that Malison Ring raid on his estate two weeks ago," Neverlin countered.

Frost grunted. "And whoever the frunging idiot was who put that particular centipede in their shirts is going to pay for it," he promised darkly. "I don't believe for a minute it was really General Davi who ordered it."

"Regardless, it's one more reason for the Patri to perhaps be reevaluating his part in this."

"Let him reevaluate," Frost said. "We've got all the Brummgas that we need, and once we're off Brum-a-dum there won't be any way for him to call them back if he changes his mind. Anyway, he'll come around again once it's done and there's loot to be passed out."

"Indeed." Neverlin paused. "There is, of course, one other possibility. I understand we have a new fighter pilot on the payroll."

"Former StarForce Wing Sergeant Jonathan Langston," Frost said, his voice suddenly as thoughtful as Neverlin's. "He claims Morgan betrayed him."

"Claims being the key word," Neverlin said. "What exactly do we know about him?"

"He and his Djinn-90 disappeared somewhere in the vicinity of that canyon on Semaline," Frost said. "He claims he was held captive by the inhabitants—"

"There's that word claims again," Neverlin put in. "I don't want claims, Colonel. I want facts."

"Don't worry, I'm watching him," Frost promised. "Meanwhile, what do we do about this?" There was another thunk as he tapped the side of the safe.

"We'll take it with us as planned," Neverlin said. "But not on either of these shuttles, in case Morgan had more surprises up his sleeve. The first group of transports should be back soon from the transfer point. We'll deploy for siege and wait for them."

"Do you want to call the Patri for reinforcements?"

"I hardly think that necessary," Neverlin said, and Alison could imagine the other's detestably oily smile. "We can handle this ourselves."

"Yes, sir," Frost said. "I'll deploy the troops."

There were a few faint footsteps, and then all was silence again. Alison held the microphone against the wall another few seconds, just to be sure, then turned it off and replaced the earphone end. "You heard all that?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Taneem murmured from her shoulder. "What do we do?"

Alison started to take a deep breath. She remembered in time that they needed to conserve air and made it a shallow breath instead. "We settle in, try to relax, and wait."

The Malison Ring mercenaries were piling out of the cars in the distant hangar, their weapons held ready as they spread out across the floor. "Come on; come on," Jack muttered under his breath, squeezing the steering wheel of his borrowed car as if he were trying to break it. He should never have agreed to this stupid plan. "Come on."