They finally reached the remnants of the main hangar. Centauri tried to turn the ship and set it down gently, but his reflexes had grown lethargic. The little vessel bounced twice, barely avoiding more debris, as startled Rylan workers tried to wave it to a halt.
“Centauri!” Alex leaned over the seat and tried to help. The ship’s controls were simple enough and he’d had three chances to watch Centauri operate them. Pull here, push there. . . .
They finally stopped less than a yard from a cracked metal wall. Alex let out a deep sigh of relief and slumped back in his own seat.
“That was close. Wouldn’t it be funny if we’d come all this way only to finish by running into a dumb wall. Right, Centauri?” There was no reply. He leaned forward again, gently shook the motionless driver. “Centauri?”
Still the elderly alien did not respond. Alex pulled his hands away. They were covered with blood.
He stared at them, then at Centauri, then jabbed the door release. As soon as the door had opened far enough he stumbled outside.
“Hey, somebody, help! Somebody get a doctor, we need a doctor here!” He felt of his ear to make certain the translator button was still in place, was gratified as well as a little astonished to discover that the tiny instrument hadn’t come loose during his flight from the alien assassin.
Was there another word for doctor he should use, or was he too excited for his words to translate properly? He ran around to Centauri’s side of the ship and was about to start pulling him clear when a familiar figure appeared, running toward him.
“Grig!”
The alien slowed, his near rigid lips straining to convey his surprise. “Alex? You came back. I’d hoped you might. I did not think you would.”
“I had to.” Alex was too embarrassed to relate the whole story. Besides, there was still a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of those he respected. “Centauri’s hurt pretty bad.”
Grig helped him pull the limp body clear of the car. Then the alien rose and shouted something Alex’s translator didn’t transcribe. Whatever Grig said must have been effective, because Rylan medics appeared immediately and bent to tend to the injured Centauri.
Alex stood watching, feeling frustrated and angry and helpless. Grig assisted the medics.
“My fault,” Alex muttered disconsolately. “He took a shot that was meant for me. It’s my fault.”
Grig spoke sternly. “Look around you, Alex. Hundreds lie dead in this base alone. This is war. It is not your fault Centauri was hurt. I am certain he was only doing his job.” He nodded toward the supine figure. “He was protecting something valuable to the war effort. An important resource.”
“But I’m not,” Alex started to protest. Polite as ever, Grig interrupted him.
“He believes that you are important. Believes it strongly enough to sacrifice himself to save you. I hope he will not be proven wrong.”
A faint wheeze issued from the figure on the floor. “You see, you see? Centauri brought him back …”
“Yes, we see.” Grig exchanged a glance with one of the medics. “You did well, Centauri. You always do well. Now rest for a while. Conserve your strength.”
Centauri’s false human face broke into a wide, satisfied smile. He looked to Alex. “Does he have my payment? Does he?”
“I’ve a fortune held in wait for you, Centauri,” Grig assured the oldster. “Your initial payment and a big bonus for performing recruiting work beyond reasonable expectations. Now please lie still.”
“He’s not fibbing, is he, Alex?” Centauri murmured anxiously. “I’ve dealt with his kind before and you’re never sure where you stand with ’em. They’re so damn courteous you can’t tell when they’re trying to cheat you.”
“No, your payment’s here.” Alex fought back the lump rising in his throat. “Full payment, and the bonus. Just like he said. All for you.”
The old man relaxed a little. “Ahhh … at last. Alex, I want you to know that I brought you back for the good of the League. For civilization’s sake. It wasn’t just the money.” He coughed and his smile cracked. One of the medics broke something out of a thin plastic tube and jammed it against Centauri’s upper arm.
“Of course,” the figure on the floor added in a whisper so weak Alex had to strain to make out the words. He fiddled with the translator, wondering if there was a hidden volume control somewhere. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt to be rich. Filthy, disgusting, obnoxiously rich. I always wanted to be rich, Alex. So rich that. . . that …”
Grig waited until one of the medics gestured, then rose and stepped aside. The tired old body below was at rest at last, content.
“You are rich, Centauri. Richer than ever you could imagine. Til the next existence, you old reprobate. I’m going to miss you.” He turned to face the young human standing nearby. “I’m sorry, Alex. How he held himself together long enough to get you both back here is a minor miracle.” He put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and urged him toward a doorway.
Alex looked back over his shoulder. The medics had moved on to other work. Centauri lay quietly on the floor of the hangar.
“Are they just going to leave him there?”
“For the moment, yes. They have done what they could and there are wounded to save. It won’t bother Centauri. Very little bothered Centauri except missing the chance to strike a profitable, slightly questionable deal. He was an avaricious soul, but a benign one.”
“He saved my life.”
“Because he thought you could save others. We’re going to find out, Alex. No time for mourning. Our remaining orbital defenses won’t stop the Ko-Dan. You’ve seen what they can do to a mountain. Imagine what that same weapons system could do to a major city.”
Alex allowed himself to be led through twisted passageways and down corridors with cracked floors and shattered ceilings.
“We weren’t away from Rylos very long, Grig. What did happen here? I thought you were ready for the Ko-Dan. When I left, a whole roomful of Starfighters was preparing to go out and intercept the Ko-Dan armada.”
“We were a few minutes too slow, Alex.” Grig struggled to explain the disaster. “We went from the heights of confidence to the depths of despair in a moment. The Ko-Dan attacked from long range. Simultaneously, our defensive shield was sabotaged by Xur’s fanatics. So was Starfighter Control. None of the gunstars had a chance to get out before the mountain was hit. All were destroyed or damaged by the first strike. The main gunstar hangar is solid with shattered rock.
“In one stroke we had been rendered helpless. That Xur knew exactly when and how to attack suggests careful intelligence work by his agents. It’s too late to do anything about that now. You’ve come back none too soon.”
“Fat lot of good I’ll be able to do now,” Alex murmured, appalled at the destruction around him. Cen-tauri’s death had brought home to him the issues at stake in this conflict far more forcefully than his words ever had. The growing conviction that he had to do whatever he could to help was reinforced by everything he saw around him.
The last thing he wanted to do was insult Centauri’s memory by lying to protect himself. “Yeah, well, there’s nothing noble about my coming back, Grig. I didn’t have much choice. Xur detected Centauri’s ship leaving Rylos just before he attacked, I guess. It’s a small ship. Maybe it looked like a gunstar on their radar, or whatever kind of tracking devices the Ko-Dan use. Centauri said it would look suspicious to them, and I guess it did.
“So Xur plotted our course, tracked us somehow, found me and tried to have me killed. If it wasn’t for Centauri and a Beta Unit he’d left behind to replace me I wouldn’t be talking about it now.”
“But you are here,” Grig pointed out quietly, “and it seems you’ve changed your mind about . . . certain things.”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I still think Centauri picked the wrong guy. But now I understand why he was so anxious to try and recruit any help he could find.”
“Then you are willing to give it a go?”
“Huh?” Alex threw him a sideways look.
“Here we are,” Grig said. He ducked beneath a beam that was leaning at a crazy angle across the corridor, rummaged for a moment behind a shattered barrier, and returned with a handful of clothing.
“Give what a go?” Alex pressed him.
“Fight,” Grig said.
9
Alex stared at the uniform. It was identical to the one he’d been handed eons ago, in a similar room, by a different alien. It was more than familiar.
Grig generated one of his stiff, thin smiles. “Yes, it’s the same one. I made a point of knowing where I could find it. In case you changed your mind.”