Escape from Altera Ch. 13-14

[Note: This is not a "sexy story". It is a mix of WW II "The Great Escape" and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's "The Gulag Achipelago"... set in outer space)

Part II: Clifford Croft's Story

Chapter 13: An Unexpected Employer

The Time: Four weeks earlier

Croft:

I maneuvered my ground car through the narrow road into the parking area, careful not to trample the flowers on the left or right. The Silencer had shot people for less.

I got out of the ground car and made my way to the front porch of the ranch. It was a hot, sunny day on Grafton, and I waved my hand to scatter away some flies. I wondered if the Silencer shot them for fun. He certainly could if he wanted to. He was that fast.

Or maybe he was just quick enough to squash them with his fingers.

I pressed the button by the door and waited. The Silencer knew I was here, of course; he just liked to make people wait. No, it wasn't that he liked to make people wait, he just was never in a hurry to cater to the convenience of others.

Which made his request for me to come to him doubly puzzling.

He opened the door. "Clifford," he said bluntly.

Triple puzzling. He never, ever called me Clifford. What was going on here?

He escorted me into a spacious living room decorated with animal hides. I sank into a soft chair by an inactive fireplace. A young woman came into the room.

"Clifford," she said.

"Annie," I said. The Silencer glared at me. I wondered if he glared at everyone who said his girlfriend's name.

"So nice of you to come," said Annie. She took a seat, and gestured for the Silencer to do so as well. Looking reluctant, he sat down.

"Well, I was on vacation-"

"I know," said the Silencer bluntly. "We've been waiting."

"Waiting?" I said. "For what?"

"John needs your help," said Annie.

The Silencer looked hard at her.

Annie shifted uncomfortably. "Let me rephrase that."

"I need your services," said the Silencer.

I raised an eyebrow. The Silencer needed something from me? This would truly be a first.

The Silencer looked at me.

I looked at the Silencer.

He looked back at me.

All right.

"What do you need my help with?"

The Silencer paused for a few seconds more, perhaps basking in his victory. "As you're no doubt aware, the Slurian War ended a few months ago."

"I think I might have heard something about it on the interstellar network," I said.

"Under the terms of the armistice, each side was supposed to release all prisoners of war," said the Silencer. "One of them was my brother."

"Your brother?" I said.

"Martin," said the Silencer.

"He joined up and fought for the League?" I couldn't believe it. Graftonites didn't fight for anyone, unless they were paid. Well paid.

"Not exactly," said the Silencer. "From what I understand, he just got caught up in the fighting."

The Silencer paused.

"Martin got captured."

Wow. What an admission to make. I knew the Graftonites looked down on that.

"It was on one of the planets the Slurians took over earlier in the war."

"How did you know this?"

"We got a letter from him, some time after he had been captured. That was about a year ago."

"We thought about staging a rescue," said Annie.

"A rescue? In the middle of the war?" I asked.

"But by that time the war was clearly going the League's way," said Annie, ignoring the question. "It was reasonably clear that in a few months it would all be over. And it was."

"So?"

"Martin never returned," said the Silencer. "When the prisoners were released, he wasn't one of them. We made inquiries, and were told he was shot while trying to escape."

"That's very sad," I said. I looked sharply at the Silencer's expression. "You don't believe them."

"Do you believe anything the Slurians say?"

"It's certainly possible they're telling the truth," I said. "If your brother is half as determined as you are, he certainly would have tried to escape. And a Graftonite without a blaster can be shot like anyone else."

"I'll excuse your ignorance," said the Silencer coldly. "But we were prepared to consider the possibility that he was dead, until I spread some credits around and did a little research." He handed me a datapad.

I looked at it. It was a list of names and dates.

"What is it?"

"A list of prisoners 'shot while trying to escape'," said the Silencer.

"That's a lot of people," I said, frowning. "But I'm not surprised that the Slurians would be this brutal."

"Then I did some research on some of the names," said the Silencer. "Many of them were among the most capable officers in your military."

"That's logical, as they would be most inclined to be able to stage escape attempts." So far, the Silencer was just grasping at straws.

"But the bodies were never returned," said the Silencer.

I raised my eyebrows again. That got my attention.

"I spoke to several of the repatriated prisoners. Standard operating procedure was that prisoners shot while or after escaping were brought back and their bodies were displayed as an example to the others. A large number of the names on this list were never brought back to have their bodies shown to their fellow POW's."

My expression changed. "That's the first thing you've said that makes some sense." I knew standard Slurian procedure as well.

"They're alive. I talked to prisoners at the last camp my brother was stationed at. After his last escape, his body was never brought back."

"You think the Slurians are still holding onto him? And other prisoners?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," said the Silencer.

"No, it wouldn't," I said. "But why?"

"The why doesn't matter," said the Silencer. "Only the where, and the who." His expression hardened.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"I want you to locate my brother, and if you can, extract him."

"And if I can't?"

"Just let me know where he is."

"If they are holding him prisoner, he's going to be under some pretty heavy guard."

"Just let me know where he is," the Silencer repeated simply.

I paused, considering. I had earned a well deserved vacation, but I knew I couldn't turn down the Silencer's request. He may only care about his brother, but I had broader concerns. If there were League POW's still in Slurian captivity, I wanted them freed.

I didn't let any of that show on my face, however.

"How much?" I asked.

"How much what?" said Annie, looking startled.

"How much will you pay me to rescue your brother?"

"After all the times John has helped you-"

"And he's been well paid for it every time," I said. "More than once he's extorted an unusually high price for his services when he's been critically needed."

"That's because you wanted the best."

"And now so do you," I said.

The Silencer nodded slowly. "How much do you want?"

I paused, for dramatic effect. "Ten million."

"Credits?" said Annie, as if she couldn't believe her ears.

"I'm supposed to be on vacation," I said lazily. "What you're proposing is not only less than restful, but could be very, very dangerous."

The Silencer said nothing.

"How much is your brother worth, John?" I asked. "Name the price."

The Silencer gave me an angry look.

I worked to maintain my external calm. Let him know what it feels like to be extorted for a change!

"Ten million," said the Silencer, gritting his teeth. "If you get him out. But if you only locate him, you get three million."

"Five million."

"Four," said the Silencer.

"Are you bargaining for your brother's life in credits?" I asked. I put my hands out to put a halt to this ridiculousness. "I'll tell you what. I'll rescue your brother for free."

"What?" said Annie. "Then what was all this talk about money for?"

"To make a point," I said, staring meaningfully at the Silencer. "But maybe free is not the right term. I do want something in return."

"What?" said the Silencer.

"A favor," I said.

"What?" said the Silencer again.

"I don't know," I said. "But sometime in the future, when I come to you with a problem, you have to help me, without holding me up for millions of credits."

The Silencer considered. "Only once."

"I know your brother isn't worth more than one favor," I said.

The Silencer's eyes flared.

"Clifford, why are you acting this way?" Annie said.

"Because this is the treatment I get every time I ask him for help and I'm tired of it," said Croft. "Maybe now the blaster's in the other hand he'll appreciate how it feels."

"Do we have a deal?" said the Silencer.

"If your brother's alive, I'll find him," I said.

Then I instantly regretted saying it. What if his brother were alive but I couldn't find him? I shouldn't have been so definitive about it.

But I'm the best infiltrator there is. If anyone could do it, I could.

I did some research first, in the computer banks of the Column. For secure access I had to return to the Column offices, which raised a few eyebrows because I was officially off duty.

"Aren't you on vacation?" said one of my noisy coworkers.

"Yes," I said, typing away. "I find this fun."

"You know, you're only supposed to use the records for official purposes."

I turned and looked at her. "You know, it's not polite to criticize a fellow intelligence officer, especially one who is senior to you."

That put her in her place. It took another hour or two of searching, but I got the information I wanted.

Then I booked a trip to Sluria.

Sluria, the vacation paradise of the galaxy!

Ok, actually it was a rather drab planet. And commercial flights had only recently been reestablished. But I had a feeling I'd need my own ship for this, so I took one of the Column's unmarked scoutships. I knew they wouldn't object much, after the fact.

As Sluria didn't have an overwhelming number of tourists from the League, especially since we had ended a bloody war with them, I posed as a rich Rurrian eccentric on vacation. Rurria was a strong ally of Sluria, and I could speak Slurian with a Rurrian accent quite flawlessly.

I made my way through customs, had my false ID examined and reexamined, paid the appropriate bribes, and was on my way. Half the research I had done at the Column had been to locate one address, a simple apartment on the residential side of the capital.

I went there and let myself in. I sat and waited, amusing myself with the owner's computer terminal.

When the door to the apartment opened a few hours later, I was more than ready.

"What are you doing here?" snarled the owner of the apartment, one Torgi Rostov.

"It's good to see you again too," I said.

He moved to draw a weapon, but I was quicker, drawing my blaster first. I had managed to hide one or two things from the quite thorough customs inspectors, including a detachable blaster. "Drop it."

Rostov did.

"Now take a seat," I said.

He sat down opposite me. "What is this about?"

"I need a favor," I said.

"I already did you a favor," Rostov snarled.

"In return for saving your life," I said. "Is your life only worth one favor?"

"It was in return for not killing me," said Rostov.

"As I recall the exact circumstances, you were trying to kill me, and I spared you," I said. "That particular fact pattern seemed to make you quite needy."

"I already helped you once."

"So you did, but I need some help again."

"No."

I sighed. "Well, maybe we can trade."

"What?"

"What if I can prove that one of your agents is embezzling state money for his own purposes?" I said.

Rostov shrugged. "Why should I care?"

"This agent does not work with Slurian intelligence, but rather Slurian military intelligence. It's a rival agency. Don't you guys hate each other?"

"So?"

"If I were to give you the name of this agent, you would undoubtedly get a medal for exposing him."

"Let's not exaggerate," said Rostov. "What do you want?"

I took a breath. "A number of League military people are still being held as prisoners of war. In a war, I might add, which is now officially over."

I watched his reaction carefully. Rostov didn't have one. He knew.

"I want to know where they are."

"No," said Rostov immediately.

"The trade doesn't interest you?" I said.

"No."

"What if I sweeten the offer?" I said.

"How do you mean?"

"What if I tapped into the stolen money I mentioned, traceable from the terminal in your apartment, and arranged for some of that money to be deposited in an account with your name on it?"

Rostov said nothing.

"And then what if I anonymously informed your bosses that you were stealing state money as well? I don't think you'd get a medal of any kind then."

"All right, I'll do it," said Rostov quickly. A little too quickly. "But it will take some time to get the information."

"Why?" I asked.

"The camp is run by the military, and they keep their own secrets."

"So you do know about it."

"I have heard rumors," said Rostov. "Give me a week or two-"

"You have two days," I said. "I will return to your apartment in two days. I expect you to be here at 7 PM, two days from now."

I didn't wait for him to answer, but got up to leave, very careful not to show him my back as I left the apartment.

Well, that should start the wheels turning.

Two days later I was calmly sitting in Rostov's apartment again. I hadn't been idle the entire time; I spent the time acquiring some items I thought would be useful. As I sat in his apartment, I turned on some music. All I could find was Slurian opera, which was characteristically hideous, but it would do.

Rostov walked in the door, right on time.

But he was followed by half a dozen men, all with blasters raised.

"What's this?" I said.

"Here is the spy, Clifford Croft, as I promised," said Rostov, making a small frown as he heard the noise of the opera.

I sighed, pressing hard on my right toe. "Oh, you have betrayed me!" I said. "This is such a surprise."

Rostov noticed Croft's sarcastic tone. "If you're not surprised, then how did we just capture you?" said Rostov, blinking a bit.

Suddenly he heard the sounds of two of his men collapsing to the ground behind him.

"You didn't," I smiled.

Rostov looked confused, started to raise his blaster, but then he felt faint and collapsed, along with the rest of his men.

I sighed, getting up. I had anticipated betrayal, of course. So I had planted a canister of exceptionally fast acting knockout gas in the room. It was an expensive kind, virtually colorless and odorless. The only thing I couldn't mask was the sound of the gas escaping from the canister, which is why I needed the opera. I, of course, had nose filters plugged in and ready.

When Rostov awoke, he was tied up in a warehouse. I smiled encouragingly at him.

"Are you ready to talk now?"

Rostov snarled at me.

"All right," I said, getting up. "I guess I'll have to let your bosses know about that money you embezzled."

"Altera!" said Rostov.

"What?" I said.

"They're on Altera."

"The death planet. It figures," I said. "Where on Altera?"

"I don't know," said Rostov.

"What?" I said, pretending to be hard of hearing.

"I really don't know!" said Rostov. "It's military. I was lucky to find out that much." He had researched the information, just in case things hadn't turned out as he expected. Lying here hogtied in a warehouse certainly qualified as an unexpected outcome.

"Well, that's something," I said. "I guess providing me with this information is worth not reporting you to your boss." I started to leave.

"Wait!" said Rostov.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to untie me?"

I paused, remembering the ambush. "No, I don't think so."

So I headed to Altera. I felt confident that Rostov wouldn't betray me (again), if only because doing so could bring some unpleasant subjects to the attention of his superiors--such as the missing money, and exactly who told me about Altera in the first place.

Altera was a "closed" planet, even by Slurian standards, which made it very difficult to visit. I did a little research and found out the Rurrians had a mining operation there, so I simply adjusted my profile and became a Rurrian mining executive.

Once I landed on the planet, the first thing I realized was that it was cold. Really cold. There was snow everywhere. I shivered as I wrapped my jacket more tightly around me.

I won't bother with the small details of how I broke into the local military base or accessed their computer. I immediately used the terminal to punch up a list of holdings on the entire planet. Suddenly, the globe became dotted with symbols.

I'd have to narrow it down a little. A prisoner of war camp probably wouldn't have more than a company guarding it; I narrowed down the search to bases with fewer than 200 men.

Many of the dots disappeared.

They certainly would have at least a platoon or two guarding it. I eliminated bases with fewer than 50 men.

Many more dots disappeared. But there were still a few dozen left.

How else to narrow it down? The prisoners would undoubtedly be put to work. I searched for work camp installations.

Five installations appeared. I started punching up lists of prisoner names at each installation.

Slurians...

Slurians...

Slurians..

Slurians...

League prisoners!

It was a place called Mount Perm. Really isolated, on a mountaintop. I looked at an image of the mountain. Two miles high. It looked unclimbable. This was going to be a tough one. How was I going to get up there?

I'd have to fly in.

A few hours later I flew my scoutship to the top of Mount Perm, landing just outside the camp. From the cockpit window I could see from the troops shouting and assembling outside my ship. My, they seemed quite agitated. Had I landed in a forbidden zone?

The only thing that surprised me when I exited the ship was that most of the troops were Redcaps. The Loyalty Police. I had thought the military was in charge. I surrendered without the slightest resistance.

After a quick search, they hustled me with unnecessary roughness to the commander's office. The sign on the desk said Colonel Tenov, and I saw he was regular military. But to his side stood a bloodthirsty Redcap major. What was going on here?

"Your name?" the Colonel asked.

"Robert Clarity," I said. "I'm a journalist."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm doing a story on the prisoner of wars you're still holding." Most of the blood drained out of Colonel Tenov's face. "Can you be helpful and set up some interviews for me?" I asked.

"We should interrogate him for what he knows, and then eliminate him," said the Redcap Major.

Tenov glanced sharply at him, then turned back to me. "Where did you learn that prisoners were here?"

"It's common knowledge, all over the League. I read an article in August Today about it a few weeks ago," I said.

Tenov gave a sarcastic grin. "I hardly think it is common knowledge in your League."

"Let me have him, just for an hour!" said the Redcap Major.

"May I remind you, Major Semvarsk, that I am still in command of this installation?" said Tenov, giving the Redcap a nasty glare. He turned to me. "I think what we shall do first is verify Mr. Clarity's identity. Then we shall decide on a course of action." He pressed a button and spoke rapidly in Slurian; an aide entered the office, and took a holo of me as well as my prints.

"We should interrogate him immediately!" said Major Semvarsk, in Slurian.

"I will not torture someone, possibly a civilian, without urgent reason," said Colonel Tenov.

"But it may take weeks to verify his identity!" said Tenov.

"Perhaps a few days," said Tenov. "We have him and he isn't going anywhere. If it turns out he is lying, I will turn him over to you."

"Either way, he can never leave this facility," said Semvarsk, still in Slurian.

Sighing, Tenov nodded. He turned to me and spoke in System English again. "We will take you now to meet the prisoners you requested."

"Good, if I can just get some film equipment from my ship-"

"Your ship will be impounded," said Tenov. "You have trespassed on a closed military installation, which is a high crime. While we determine what to do with you, you will stay at this facility. Major Semvarsk, escort the prisoner out."

Semvarsk escorted me to the prisoner compound. "I cannot wait to get some time with you."

"You'll just have to wait your turn," I said.

But as I turned to look back at my ship, the smile was wiped off my face as I heard the characteristic whine of engines powering up. My ship was taking off, without me.

The ship that was kind of an integral part of the escape plan.

Oh well.

The Slurians hadn't invented a prison yet that could hold me.

The prisoners eyed me curiously, as if they weren't used to seeing new faces. Many wore tattered or faded military uniforms. I casually walked to a building that was crowded with people; it turned out to be a cafeteria. I entered and started searching for my target, remembering the holoimage I had memorized.

The Silencer's brother. The one called The Whisperer.

I found him rather quickly. I saw him sitting at a table eating a small dish of something. He looked a lot more battered and worn down then he did in his holoimage, but I guess that was to be expected.

I went over to the Whisperer. But before I could say a word, I saw another familiar face sitting next to him, someone I thought I recognized. Military. Tack, Tuch... Took.

We locked eyes.

"Croft!" he said. "You're here to rescue me! I can't believe it!" he yelped.

Chapter 14 The Cavalry Arrives

Took:

"Prove it," said Colonel Crawford.

"What?" said Croft.

"You say you're some superspy here to save us," said Crawford. "Prove it."

We were standing outside, in the compound.

"Sir, I know this man," I said. "He really is with the Column."

"That may be," said Crawford. "But he no longer has a ship. What can he do for us?"

"You want a demonstration of my abilities, is that it?" said Croft.

"That would be nice," said Crawford.

"Wait here... just a few minutes," said Croft. "Would you do that?"

Crawford nodded.

We waited a few minutes, wondering what kind of demonstration Croft would provide.

Five minutes turned into ten minutes which turned into fifteen minutes.

Crawford may have thought Croft was stalling, but I knew better.

Suddenly I noticed someone waving to us--from the OTHER SIDE of the fence. It was Croft.

We looked at him. He stopped waving. He was directly underneath one of the guard towers.

"How did he do that?" Crawford said.

A half hour later, when Croft returned, we still didn't find out.

"Are you satisfied?" Croft said.

"How did you do that?" Crawford asked.

"A bit of stealth, and misdirection," said Croft. "A lot of trade secrets. Sir."

"Can you get us all out this way?"

"I wasn't hired to get you all out," said Croft.

"Are you saying the League didn't send you?"

Croft nodded. "I was hired by a private individual, to get him out." He hooked a thumb at the Whisperer.

"But surely as a member of the Column, a League agency, you have a responsibility-"

"I'm officially off-duty, sir, on vacation," Croft said.

"So you will simply take off with him, and leave all of us here?" said Crawford.

"Are you ordering me to help, or asking for it?" Croft asked.

"I guess I'm asking for it," said Crawford.

"That's a little better," said Croft. "I took this job only when I heard that you guys might still be alive. I am here to help you-"

"But you just said-"

"But not to take your orders," said Croft. "It's my show or no show. All right?"

Crawford took a deep breath. "All right. Can you use that maneuver to get us out of the camp?"

"No," said Croft.

"No? Just no?"

"That's the short answer," said Croft. "A longer answer is that you don't have the skill to walk silently behind guards or make distracting noises in other locations to make them look the other way. I could train you, but it would take a few years."

"Then what's the solution?"

"I escape, and call for help," said Croft.

"I thought your ship was gone," said Crawford.

"It is; that will just make it more challenging."

"How many of us can you take with you?" Crawford asked.

"I planned on just taking him," said Croft, indicating the Whisperer.

"How do you plan to get him outside the wire?"

"I'm still working on it."

"We can get him outside the wire, if you'll take some others."

"I can't carry the whole camp on my back," said Croft. "The key here is stealth. The more people I take, the more difficult it is to blend in." He sighed, looking at me. "All right. I'll take Took. The War Admiral will probably want his pet back."

"There's one more person we'd like you to take," said Crawford. "War Captain Emmett North."

"War Captain? Emmett North?"

"His nephew," said Crawford. "He's been treated especially badly here."

"Indeed? I'd like to meet him," Croft said.

The War Captain stepped out of the shadows.

Croft's eyes widened. "You even look like him."

"So I've been told," said the War Captain, in a raspy voice.

Croft said, "All right, how do you propose to get them over the wire?"

"We have a tunnel that's almost done," said Crawford.

"Almost?"

"We're almost under the fence now. Two or three more days of digging should do it."

"We don't have much time," said Croft. "They've sent in my holo for analysis. I'm surely listed somewhere in the Redcap files. Probably pretty prominently, I tend to make quite an impression."

"You don't have to worry much about that," said Crawford. "All requests from Altera have low priority. It will probably be at least a week or two before the bureaucrats get to it and process a response."

"If that's true, then we're all right," Croft said.

"Now, how do you plan to get off the mountain?"

"Well, we could sneak onto one of the supply transports that come here," said Croft.

"Impossible," said Crawford. "Not only do they have the transports under tight guard, but they search it top to bottom before they lift off."

"They won't find me."

"Additionally, they do a head count in camp right before lift off, and if anyone is missing, the transport doesn't move."

"Oh," said Croft.

"Does that ruin your master plan?" Crawford asked.

"No, I have a backup plan," said Croft.

"You're going to try and climb down the mountain?" Crawford said, ready to present the problems with that.

Croft shook his head. "No. We'll just jump off."

"Jump off?" said Crawford. "Please be serious."

"I am serious," said Croft. "We'll use chutes."

"That would be great, if we had any."

"Not gravchutes," said Croft. He smiled. "But regular chutes."

"What do you mean?" Crawford said.

"Hundreds of years ago, pilots bailed out of aircraft and used large circles of cloth to slow their descent."

"Cloth? Are you serious?" said Crawford.

"I've actually done it, in Column survival school training," said Croft.

"From what altitudes?"

"About 1000 feet," said Croft.

"Well, this mountain is over two miles high, close to 11000 feet," said Crawford.

"It should still work," said Croft. "Air is air."

"You'll get killed," said Crawford. "Those archaic devices will never work."

"Well, then, the alternative is that we can all stay here."

"I'll go," said the Whisperer suddenly.

"I will too," said the War Captain. "I've studied these ancient devices, called parachutes, and they worked at high altitudes."

I was silent.

"Took?" said the War Captain.

"I... uh... sure," I said.

"Fine," said Crawford. "Let's say you get down the mountain in safety. Do you know how many hundreds of miles it is to the nearest village?"

"No," said Croft. "Nor do I care."

They looked at him like he was crazy.

"How many days worth of food will you need?" Crawford asked.

"A day or two should suffice," said Croft.

Crawford turned to us. "I don't know anything about this gentleman, but he sounds mad to me."

"He's not just with the Column," I persisted. "He's one of the Eight. The best of the best."

We had all heard of the Eight, the top ranked elite operatives.

Crawford paused, and looked at Croft. "If you don't need food, then what else will you need?"

"Bows," said Croft.

"Bows?"

"Bows, and arrows," said Croft. "Three of them." He looked at each of us. "And you must all practice on them."

"I don't know what I'm doing," I said, as I practiced with the improvised bow and arrow inside one of the barracks. The string for the bow had been relatively easy to get; the curved wood for the bows had been harder. I was practicing indoors, because practicing outdoors would have raised too many questions.

The problem was that the barracks was crowded with bunk beds and people. I had about as much chance of hitting a fellow prisoner as I did a target on the far side of the room.

"Just keep doing it," said Sergeant Bailey.

I aimed at the target, and squeezed off a shot. The arrow flew across the air, landing into a pillow that Corporal Jensen was currently lying on. His eyes widened as he saw the shaft protruding.

"There's something wrong with these arrows," I growled.

The Whisperer raised his bow, and fired three arrows in quick succession. Bullseye, bullseye, and near bullseye. He looked at me inquiringly.

"All right, I'll try again," I said, raising the bow. "Everyone watch out."

I pulled back on the string, aimed carefully, and released the arrow.

At that minute the door to the barracks opened, and Croft came in. The arrow missed his face by inches, embedding into the door besides him.

Croft looked momentarily startled. Then he removed the arrow from the door, came over to me, and took the bow and arrow away. "I'll take over the bow and arrow duties for you," he said.

Croft was insistent that we be ready to go as soon as possible. Colonel Crawford wanted a few extra days of digging--each extra day meant we could emerge a few feet farther from the fence on the other side.

But Croft was getting nervous. Perhaps with good reason.

One day Major Semvarsk eyed Croft curiously in the courtyard. "Richman, have we ever met before you came to this camp?" he said, in accented English.

Croft shrugged.

"You look a little familiar."

Croft looked quickly at the Redcap; he did not look familiar to him. Then he turned away.

"Stand still!" said the Major. "Let me see your face."

Croft complied.

"I think I've seen a circular on you," said the Major.

"A what?"

"A notification," said the Major. "We are periodically notified about leading enemies of the state, and provided with likenesses of them. Yet, if you are a simple journalist, it is highly unlikely you would be on such a list, no?"

"Maybe your government didn't like the article I wrote about the table manners of your general secretary."

"Silence!" said the Major. He looked at Croft. "I don't remember where I have seen your face before, but I am sure I have. When the identification scan returns, we may have some further talking to do, you and I."

"Maybe I can get that interview I keep asking for," said Croft, looking totally unconcerned.

After a leisurely walk around the compound, to assuage any watcher's suspicion, Croft returned to Crawford and told him what had happened.

"We don't have much time." said Croft.

"It will still be some days before your identification check comes in," said Crawford.

"Where are we on the tunnel?" Croft asked.

"We're seven feet past the fence."

"That's where we were yesterday."

"We were unable to dig today because we couldn't get a man under the commandant's barracks. They were watching too closely."

"That Redcap may remember where he saw me at any time," Croft said. "We have to leave soon. Do two more days of digging, dig whatever you can, and then we go."

"Two days will hardly be enough-"

"It will have to do," Croft said.

The next day Major Semvarsk again looked oddly at Croft, as if he were still trying to place an unfamiliar memory. Croft smiled boldly at him, which only seemed to enrage Semvarsk further.

"What do you find so amusing, Richman?" said Semvarsk.

"I finally remember where we met," said Croft.

"Yes?" said Semvarsk.

"It was a journalism conference on August about 20 years ago. You were a correspondent for Slurian Farming Today."

Semvarsk slapped Croft in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Insolence."

Croft, rubbing his face, got up slowly. "Major, you don't know the meaning of the word."

"You do not act like a timid writer, Richman. You act like a spy." Semvarsk snarled.

"If I were a spy, would I act like a spy?" Croft said. "In fact, since spies by their nature pretend to be something else, how can one describe acting like a spy?"

Semvarsk stared at me.

"This is a case of classic Slurian paranoia. I'm actually cowriting a book on the subject with a psychiatrist who specializes in the area. Are you sure you won't give me an interview?"

Semvarsk glared at him and stomped off.

"Why do you taunt him?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Croft shrugged. "Because he's tauntable."

The next day was supposed to be our last day on Mount Perm before they escaped. In the afternoon, however, Sergeant Bailey came running into the barracks. "Croft! Croft!" he yelled.

"What?" said Croft.

"They know who you are!" he said, gasping because he was out of breath.

"What?"

"I was under the barracks, I heard the ID come in. They're coming for you now!"

Croft ran for the barracks door.

The door swung open-

And Major Semvarsk stood there, grinning widely. Guards with blasters backed him up.

"So, not just a spy, but a Column spy," said Semvarsk. "One of the Eight, in fact. What a catch."

Croft said nothing.

"I think we will have to forgo the interview you requested, but I can promise you some other kinds of entertainment. Sergeant Korky!"

Iron Club came forward and grabbed Croft by the arm.

"Take the spy to solitary. We will begin our interrogation there shortly," said Semvarsk to Iron Club. "I regret that our time together will be brief, as a shuttle is being sent for you tomorrow. But we will make the best of our time," he smiled.

Croft smiled back, looking totally unafraid.

We watched in shock as he was dragged away.

Our plan was in shreds now.

What would we do?