come on a scoutship pilot he’d met previously. The pilot, the male
before you here, was running surveillance as part of his training for
their Intelligence Corps. Normally that’d have meant nothing–standard
procedure of theirs–but this particular male had been on Merseia in
company with a senior Terran agent. Those two got involved in something
which is secret from me but, I gather, caused major trouble to the
Roidhunate. Protector Brechdan Ironrede was said to have been furious.”
Ydwyr started. Slowly he lifted one bony green hand and said, “You have
not told me the prisoner’s name.”
“Let the datholch know this is Junior Lieutenant Dominic Flandry.”
Silence fell, except for the wind whose rising skirl began to pierce the
heavily insulated walls. Ydwyr s gaze probed and probed. Djana whispered
frantic, repeated prayers. Flandry felt the sweat slide down his ribs.
He needed all his will to hold steady.
“Yes,” Ydwyr said at last, “I have heard somewhat about him.”
“Then the datholch may appreciate this case more than I do,” Morioch
said, looking relieved. “To be honest, I knew nothing of Flandry till
the Brythioch–”
“Continue your account,” Ydwyr said unceremoniously.
Morioch’s relief vanished, but he plowed on: “As the datholch wishes.
Whatever the importance of Flandry himself–he appears a cub to me–he
was associated with this other agent … khraich, yes, it comes back …
Max Abrams. And Abrams was, is, definitely a troublemaker of the worst
sort. Flandry appears to be a protégé of his. Perhaps, already, an
associate? Could his assignment to Irumclaw involve more than showed on
the skin?
“This much the mei reported to the chief intelligence officer of his
ship. The officer, in turn, directed our agents in the city”–Rax, of
course, and those in Rax’s pay, Flandry thought through the loudening
wind–“to keep close watch on this young male. If he did anything
unusual, it should be investigated as thoroughly as might be.
“The officer asked me to stand by. As I’ve said, nothing happened for
months, until I’d almost forgotten. We get so many leads that never lead
anywhere in intelligence work.
“But lately a courier torpedo arrived. The message was that Flandry was
collaborating closely but, apparently, secretly, with the leader of an
underworld gang. The secrecy is understandable–ultra-illegal
behavior–and our agents’ first guess was that normal corruption was all
that was involved.” Scorn freighted Morioch’s voice. “However, following
orders, they infiltrated the operation. They learned what it was.”
He described Wayland, to the extent of Ammon’s knowledge, and Ydwyr
nodded. “Yes,” the old Merseian said, “I understand. The planet is too
far from home to be worth our while–at present–but it is not desirable
that Terrans reoccupy it.”
“Our Irumclaw people are good,” Morioch said. “They had to make a
decision and act on their own. Their plan succeeded. Does the datholch
agree they should get extra reward?”
“They had better,” Ydwyr said dryly, “or they might decide Terrans are
more generous masters. You have yet to tell them to eliminate those who
know about the lost planet, correct?–Well, but what did they do?”
“The datholch sees this female. After Flandry had investigated the
planet, she captured him and brought his boat to a section where our
pickets were bound to detect it.”
“Hun-n-nh … is she one of ours?”
“No, she thought she was working for a rival human gang. But the
datholch may agree she shows a talent for that kind of undertaking.”
Flandry couldn’t help it, too much compassion welled through his
despair, he bent his head down toward Djana’s and muttered: “Don’t be
afraid. They’re pleased with what you did for them. I expect they’ll pay
you something and let you go.”
To spy on us–driven by blackmail as well as money–but you can probably
vanish into the inner Empire. Or … maybe you’d like the work. Your
species never treated you very kindly.
“And that is the whole tale, qanryf?” Ydwyr asked.
“Yes,” Morioch said. “Now the datholch sees the importance. Bad enough
that we had to capture a boat. That’ll provoke a widespread search,
which might stumble on places like Talwin. The odds are against it,
true, and we really had no choice. But we cannot release Flandry.”