Escape from Altera Ch. 18

[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)

Chapter 18: Getting Justice on August

Took:

After three, grueling years as a prisoner, It took me several weeks to get readjusted to the life of a free man. Physically, I was suffering from borderline starvation and exhaustion.. But psychologically, the adjustment was much greater. When you lock up a man for years and suddenly make him free, it takes him time to readjust. For example, the first two weeks I couldn't sleep on a normal bed; I had to sleep on the floor, which was hard like my shelf.

I also couldn't return to eating regular meals all at once; my stomach couldn't handle it. But the flavors! To taste the flavors of different foods again was incredible! I had had different foods from time to time during my escapes, but this was different by an order of magnitude. Eating was no longer just a chore, but a pleasure, once again.

But the worst aftereffect was the nightmares, of punishment, torture, and fear of execution. I would constantly dream of being chased by the Redcaps. Sometimes in my dreams I would be caught, and sometimes I would escape, but always I would wake up in a cold sweat. I still had those nightmares even years later, but it was the worst the first few months afterwards. Part of me just couldn't believe I was finally free.

Croft came to visit me in the hospital.

"How do you do it?" I asked.

Croft looked at me quizzically.

"You're in a job where you're constantly being chased, with the fear of capture or execution. How do you do it?"

Croft paused, and then looked at me. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Fly into battle every day with the fear of being shot down."

"Oh," I thought reflexively. "Well, I'm very good at what I do, and because I control my own fate, I don't think it will happen to me."

I looked up at Croft, who only looked back at me with a slight smile.

When I got out of the hospital, I was given some time off. Since the war was over, there wasn't exactly any burning need for fighter pilots. But I received a personal message from a military official, issuing an open invitation for a visit. Only a week later, I took it.

And so I found myself shuddering a little with nostalgia as my shuttle landed on the Command Carrier Glory. The Glory still had some marks of battle--there was a new scar along the left side of the ship, and a puncture hole along the topside, which was slowly being patched by a repair team, and this was months later, long after the war had ended. I wondered what the Glory had looked like right at the war's end.

I made my way to the bridge, only to be greeted with surprised looks and greetings from the bridge crew. They had been told I was alive but obviously didn't expect to see me, all except the new Captain who merely pointed to the War Admiral's office and said, "He's waiting."

When I entered the Battle (now War) Admiral's office, he looked exactly as he had the last time I had seen him, three years ago.

"Iday," he said, standing up and actually shaking my hand. He gave me a firm looking over before releasing me, as if he were scanning me, to see if he could detect any residual signs of my ordeal. "Welcome home," said the War Admiral, gesturing for me to take a seat, which I did.

We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, and then, as was only natural, we talked about my fateful mission.

"So it was a double feint the entire time," I said.

The War Admiral nodded. I had figured this out some time ago, but to finally get it confirmed from him meant something.

"Did you..."

"Mean for you to be captured, and give the Slurians false information? Absolutely not," said the War Admiral, already knowing what I had intended to ask. "I assure you, Iday, that was never part of the plan. It was a risky mission, but your ship's presence, not your individual capture, was meant to convince the Slurians that we were attempting to feint and attack elsewhere. Naturally you weren't told our real objective in case you were captured, but our plan didn't rely on you getting captured and releasing false information."

I believed him. The War Admiral had never lied to me. "So when I was quickly bundled off of Volvograd-"

"That was because we were about to take Volvograd," said the War Admiral, looking amused. "I saw your debrief. Right about the time they told you the Glory was 'burning in space', our task force was closing on the planet. If we had only been a few hours sooner-"

"Don't blame yourself," I said.

"But I do," said the War Admiral. He looked away for a moment. "At first we heard that you were in a civilian labor camp. When you were reported dead, and nobody was repatriated, we should have investigated further. You were in that prisoner of war camp for nearly a year after the war ended."

"And so was your nephew," I said evenly.

"Yes," said the War Admiral grimly. "We had been told that he died too, along with everyone else who was put in that camp. They intended to keep the prisoners forever." He paused. "The problem is that we stopped the war too early. We accepted their offer of a truce, which turned into a permanent armistice, rather than pushing for their surrender."

"Pushing for their surrender would have resulted in more lives being lost."

"True," said the War Admiral. "But in the long run it would have saved lives. The Slurian Union, which now has launched two major wars against us, still exists. The same government is there, and once it rearms, I have no doubt it will launch a third war against us. And since they didn't surrender, we have no way of knowing how many other prisoners they are still keeping."

"But at least we can do something for the prisoners on Altera," I said. I saw the War Admiral's expression fall. "Right?"

The War Admiral said, "Our Interstellar Affairs Department has been 'looking into it'."

"What does that mean?"

"For the past few weeks they've been making discrete inquiries. But the Slurians still deny the camp exists."

"Discrete inquiries? We should go in there in force-"

"Which will almost certainly restart the war," said the War Admiral. "We have to approach this most carefully."

There was a buzz, and the War Admiral pressed a button. "Yes?" And then. "Send him in."

A familiar face walked in. The super spy himself

"Croft! I thought you'd be back at work by now," I said.

"I would have been, but the War Admiral politely made a request to the Column that I make myself available," Croft said. "My Chief was overjoyed to comply."

The War Admiral smiled. As a certifiable war hero, he had a disproportionate amount of influence, even more than a typical Admiral. Or even a typical War Admiral, if there was such a thing.

"I want the two of you to go to the Interstellar Affairs Department and meet with the deputy secretary in charge of Slurian affairs," said the War Admiral. "Find out what's going on and report back to me." The War Admiral gave Croft a knowing look, as if more was involved than I had been told.

"Us, sir?" I asked.

"You've both seen the camp, firsthand," said the War Admiral. "You're our only eyewitnesses who are currently available."

"Yes sir," I said, saluting. Croft, not a military man, merely waved a bit with his fingers and gave a knowing smile. He obviously knew more of what was about to transpire than I did.

The Interstellar Affairs building was one of the largest buildings on August, the capital of the League. It was 250 stories high and was an entire block in length and width. The building, of course, had a number of secondary annexes around August, and of course operated hundreds of embassies on other planets.

Croft was relieved of his blaster by security on the ground floor, which annoyed him.

"Why do you think you'll need your gun for?" I asked, as we entered a crowded elevator.

"You never know. We're dealing with bureaucrats," said Croft.

The other occupants of the elevator, probably bureaucrats, gave Croft an odd look.

Croft took another blaster out of his jacket, and appeared to check the settings, ignoring the stares aimed at him.

"How did you sneak that in?"

Croft gave me a look. "It's a stealth gun."

"Are you planning on using it?"

"It depends on the level of cooperation we receive," said Croft.

The elevator stopped at a lower floor. Everyone else rushed off, even if it wasn't their intended destination.

Croft put his weapon away and chuckled.

"You enjoyed that," I said.

"Didn't you?" he replied.

Deputy Secretary Robert Rye had a wide, spacious office with an unobstructed view of the palace, Sarney Sarittenden proper. He was on a holocall when we came in, though it was shielded so we couldn't see who he was talking to. He waved us in, and gestured for us to sit down, even as he continued talking.

"Yes, yes Sergei," said Rye.

He heard something we didn't hear and laughed. "Very good! We have those too!"

The conversation continued on for several minutes, then ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty. We couldn't really figure out what it was about until Rye started saying more explicit details.

"Yes, of course we will have your favorite borsch at the banquet. And I've arranged to have the cultural heritage tablecloth you requested too."

Rye went on and on, discussing details of the meal, completely oblivious to our presence.

I know my temper was boiling over, so I wasn't surprised when Croft got up and went over to the other side of the desk, where he could see the hologram of Sergei.

"What is this?" said Rye.

"Sergei, I'm afraid the deputy secretary is going to have to call you back," said Croft. "A crisis has just erupted in appetizers that he has to attend to." He pressed the TERMINATE button, and Sergei faded before he could respond.

Rye's eyes bulged out of his sockets. "What did you do?"

"I got your attention," said Croft coldly. "We're here on business a little more important than the size of the napkins at some Slurian banquet."

"That wasn't just 'some Slurian banquet', as you so quaintly call it," said Rye. "This was a meal set up for our annual diplomats banquet, the first such banquet, I might add, since the end of the Slurian War!"

"I'm so sorry to disrupt your food diplomacy," said Croft wryly.

Rye looked disgusted. "Don't be a fool. I was trying to reestablish a human connection with my counterpart at the Slurian foreign affairs ministry. The damage you have wrought-"

"May have an incalculable impact on your dessert diplomacy," said Croft.

"Who are you to think you can speak to me like this?" said Rye. "Who sent you anyway?" He started looking at his appointments screen to get more information.

"Admiral Norman North," said Croft. "War Admiral Norman North."

"Norman North?" said Rye, looking momentarily confused.

"The hero of the Slurian War," I added helpfully. "That's Norman North with three n's."

"Oh," said Rye, slightly deflated. Perhaps he thought he could just throw us out.

"We've come to talk to you about a menu of items slightly less palatable than borsch and Slurian cantaloupe," said Croft.

Rye looked startled. "Thanks for reminding me, I forgot to write down that Sergei wanted cantaloupe." He jotted a quick note on a datapad.

"We're here to talk about the Slurian prisoners of war," said Croft. "Prisoners, I might add, who are being held after the end of said war."

"Ah, yes, I believe I got an electronic message about this," said Rye. "If memory serves I had one of my underlings do some research on this; in fact, he completed quite a fine research memo, if I recall."

"Do you recall what this fine memo said?" I asked.

"Yes, it looked into the existence of the so-called detainees, but failed to find any evidence to substantiate your claims."

"Evidence?" said Croft. "I've seen the prisoners firsthand."

"And I was a prisoner there," I said.

"Yes, yes, I have read summaries of your report," said Rye. "But we need objective proof. Did you take any holos of the camp, or the other men?"

"My recorder got confiscated in customs on the way off Mount Perm," I said sarcastically. "Are you saying you don't believe us?"

"Not at all," Rye said. "I just need evidence to present my diplomatic counterpart with."

"Send a team to Mount Perm! You'll find them there!"

"Oh, I'm sure Sergei would never allow that," said Rye.

"Why?" Croft asked.

"Altera is a closed planet. We wouldn't want to insult their pride by demanding to see one of their closed facilities."

"Not when we're at this critical juncture in our new and blossoming relations," said Croft.

"Exactly," said Rye, without any irony.

Croft looked at me. "Onwards and upwards?"

I nodded.

"I did a little research," said Croft. "The Secretary's office is on the top floor. The penthouse."

"It figures," I said, getting up.

"Wait a minute," said the Deputy Secretary. "You can't just barge into the Secretary's office!"

"I think we can," said Croft, pressing a small button on his wrist comm as he too stood up to leave. "But don't let us interrupt your important work. Try to negotiate some good appetizers for our side, if you can."

"I'll call security!"

Croft shrugged as we walked out.

We actually made it to the penthouse floor before security caught up with us. The penthouse suites were lush, with smooth lighting and wall to wall carpeting in the latest Augustian styles.

"Hold it right there," said a diplomatic guard, pointing his blaster at us. He had several others backing him up.

At that moment, the door to another elevator opened behind us, and we heard someone stepping out. "Who exactly are you pointing that blaster at, Lieutenant?"

We didn't have to turn, because we recognized the voice and saw the shocked expression on their faces.

It was War Admiral Norman North himself.

"We're here to see the Secretary," said the War Admiral.

The guards' eyes caught the glittering sets of silver eagles on his collars, and they instinctively lowered their weapons.

Henry Fance was the Secretary for Interstellar Relations. The press dubbed him a "moderate", perhaps because he issued measured statements and when he did take action, it was usually of a limited sort, such as to "wish the Slurians could do better when it comes to human rights" or to hope that the Rurrians "adopted a more developed attitude" when it came to impounding League merchant ships.

The press also called him a "pragmatist", perhaps because he understood, pragmatically, that Slurians were Slurians and nothing was going to change that, so if you accept the fact that there were Slurians out there and one had to deal with them, it didn't make sense to unduly aggravate a major negotiating partner with charged rhetoric.

This pragmatic, moderate man was the chief diplomat in the League and the man whose office the War Admiral, Clifford Croft, and myself stood in.

"War Admiral North," said Fance. "This is a surprise."

"Forgive the interruption, Mr. Secretary," said the War Admiral. "But I have a matter of utmost importance to bring to your attention.

"Yes, the situation with the prisoners," said the Secretary. "Mr. Raye briefed me on your way up here. Have a seat, gentlemen."

The Secretary checked one of his data screens.

He looked at Croft. "You must be Clifford Croft, the daring Column agent who discovered this prison camp."

"Yes sir," said Croft.

The Secretary's gaze turned to me. "And you must be the valiant Idaho Took, who escaped from this prison camp, with the help of Mr. Croft and some... irregulars."

"Yes sir," I said.

"Now that I know who you are, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Secretary, we want our POW's released," said the War Admiral.

"I understand your impulse, War Admiral, and share your sentiment myself," said Secretary Fance. "However, it is not as easy as you put it."

"Why?"

"The Slurian Union, while ostensibly a dictatorship, is actually composed of differing factions which strive for power--in the party, in the bureaucracy, in the military, in the intelligence services, and of course, in the Loyalty Police," said the Secretary, giving me a small smile. "Your men are being held by a hardline faction."

"Go on," said the War Admiral. But he already knew where this was leading.

"We can apply pressure for your mens' release, but doing so would only strength the hand of the hardliners."

"How so?" the War Admiral asked.

"The hardliners would use our demands to show that we are belligerent, and agitating for another conflict. The balance of power would tilt in their direction, and they might rearm, and precipitate another conflict."

"Mr. Secretary, that's preposterous," said the War Admiral. He ticked off points on his fingers. "Point one, it is perfectly legitimate to ask for all our prisoners of war back. We returned all of theirs. Point two, if there is any belligerence, it is on the Slurian side, for they are violating the armistice they just signed which promised the return of all prisoners. Point three, the hardliners are in control. They are the ones who launched the war. Point four, they are rearming, and will continue to do so, no matter what we say or do. And point five, if we can't trust them to keep the armistice on a simple matter such as return of prisoners, there will be war again, and sooner than any of us want."

The Secretary sat in silence for a moment, gazing for a moment outside his window which gave him a splendid view of the presidential palace at Sarney Sarittenden. Then he turned back to us.

"Admiral, Admiral, Admiral. You don't understand. Diplomacy and politics are not black and white issues like a war. Believe me when I say I want those prisoners of war back just as much as you do. If it were up to me, I would have had them released months ago-"

"You knew," said the War Admiral suddenly. "You knew they were there, and weren't being released."

"I assure you-"

The War Admiral turned to Croft. "Is this possible?"

"Yes," said Croft. "There are a number of intelligence services that report to the President, and the Secretary gets high level briefings every day, just as the President does. Maybe even the Column knew about it; I can do some digging and find out."

The War Admiral looked at the Secretary. "You knew," he said, with finality.

"I assure you-"

"We are wasting our time here-" said the War Admiral getting up. We stood up as well.

"Where are you going?"

"We'll see what the President has to say about this," said the War Admiral. Ordinarily, a military officer, even an admiral, wouldn't have access to the President, but the War Admiral had just saved the League from destruction; surely he could get an audience with the President if he requested it.

"He already knows," said Fance defiantly.

The War Admiral turned around to face Fance.

"What do you expect us to do?" Fance asked. "Start another war? For what? To rescue 200 men?"

"They are our men, and they fought for us," said the War Admiral.

"We lost several hundred thousand men and women in this war," said Fance. "I suspect we'd lose a lot more than 200 if we went in there with force."

"The Slurians are weak. We currently have the military advantage."

"That, sir, is a military opinion," said Fance. "The war is over, War Admiral. We may not like the peace. The peace is not perfect. But keeping the peace is the most important thing, and if those 200 men have to give up their freedom to keep the peace, then they will continue to serve the League."

"Not in that way," said the War Admiral. "Not under my watch."

He turned and left. We followed in his wake.

Two days later Croft and I were in the War Admiral's office on the Glory.

"You met with the President," I said. It was not a question.

The War Admiral nodded.

"What did he say?"

"He expressed unhappiness with the situation," said the War Admiral. "He promised to personally press the issue with the Slurians."

"In other words, nothing will get done," Croft said.

The War Admiral nodded. "I've offered to take a task force across the border to rescue them. My request has been turned down."

"But our men are there. Over 200 of our own people, and perhaps more!" I said.

"I know," said the War Admiral.

"What's really going on, sir?"

The War Admiral looked away. "We've just come out of a long and bloody war. The politicians don't want to risk another one."

"But we can't just leave our people behind!" I said, jumping up.

The War Admiral looked at me. "Believe me, Iday, I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could take the Glory in there right now and rescue every last one-"

"But that would upset the Department of Interstellar Relations and their new Slurian buddies," I said bitterly. "I get the picture."

I felt so restless. I turned to go.

"Iday, where are you going?"

I turned back to the War Admiral. "Sir, with respect, if you knew your nephew was still trapped on that planet, would you simply do nothing?"

The War Admiral considered. "I... I'm not sure what I would do."

"Well, neither am I," I said.

I was ablaze with anger. I couldn't let them down. This wouldn't end here. I wouldn't let it!

Croft grabbed me strongly by the arm. "Come with me," he said. "I know someone who owes me a favor." He turned to the War Admiral. "I believe the Lieutenant is still entitled to a few weeks leave?"

"He can take all the time he needs," said the War Admiral, his face without expression.

"We'll be in touch," said Croft.

Chapter 19: Return to Altera

"No," said the Silencer.

Croft and I had immediately gone to Grafton to ask for the Silencer's help in freeing the captives. We sat in his living room with Annie, the Ken Pilot, and the Whisperer. I was glad to see that the Whisperer looked much recovered from his ordeal.

"No?" said Croft. "I seem to remember that you owed me a favor."

"It would have to be a favor that I could deliver upon," said the Silencer. "There's no way that one person can go in there and liberate all those captives. I'm a gunman, not an army."

"You took care of two platoons easily enough," said Croft.

"I risked my life to take out two platoons," said the Silencer. "And I did it for family." He looked at Annie. "We're not doing it again."

"There are 200 League men there rotting away in prison."

"They have my sympathies," said the Silencer dryly.

"They were fighting for your freedom too," Croft said.

"Grafton II was officially neutral in the war."

"That's an evasion," I said. "If the Slurians had won, it wouldn't have taken them long to turn their attention to Grafton."

"They were welcome to try," said the Silencer.

I looked at their faces. Annie looked sympathetic but said nothing. The Ken Pilot said nothing and was unreadable. The Whisperer looked a little sad.

"What about you, Whisper?" I said.

The Whisperer looked up at me. "What about me?"

"Don't you have any feelings for the people you left behind?"

The Whisperer said nothing.

"I seem to remember that one of them even saved your life. Sergeant Bailey, I recall," I said. "He stood up and offered to take a whipping for you, when you were half-dead. Don't you feel that if nothing else, you owe Bailey something?"

The Whisperer said nothing.

"Come on, Croft," I said, getting up. "We've obviously come to the wrong place. We'll do this ourselves."

"You'll be killed," said Annie, speaking for the first time.

"Maybe," I said. "But we'll die for something important--loyalty and honor. Enjoy your money and long lives," I added bitterly.

We had gotten halfway to the door when a voice said, "Wait."

Croft and I turned around.

It was the Whisperer.

"All right," said the Whisperer.

"Don't be a fool," said the Silencer.

"I owe them," said the Whisperer.

"If you go there and get caught, don't expect me to come and rescue you out again," said the Silencer nastily.

"I won't need to," said the Whisperer, his expression hardening. "I'll take a mercenary team. Traker Fields."

"Traker?" said the Silencer. "Ha! That will run you at least a few hundred thousand credits."

"I have the money," said the Whisperer.

"You were always the sentimental one," said the Silencer caustically.

The Whisperer looked over at the Ken Pilot, who was staring emotionlessly at the ceiling, and then back to the Silencer. "Yes, by comparison with the rest of our family, I guess I am."

He turned to Croft and me. "Let's go."

We hired a Graftonite commando team led by the legendary Traker Fields. Graftonites were well known for hiring themselves out as bounty hunters and killers, but also on occasion lent themselves out in small groups to fight limited military actions. Before long I found myself in a medium sized long range transport ship with Traker Fields and seven other grim looking Graftonites, not counting the Whisperer.

"How are we going to get into Slurian space?" I asked.

"We'll sneak across," said Croft. "I know a few tricks."

I tapped some keys on a control panel. "I see you've equipped the ship with a Slurian transponder. Is it current?"

"It wouldn't be any good if it weren't," said Croft confidently.

Suddenly, another ship appeared on the scope. It was a destroyer!

"We're not in Slurian space yet," I said. "Is it one of ours?"

"Yes," said Croft immediately, as if he were expecting it.

A holoimage of a naval officer appeared before them.

"Transport 98741, this is the League Destroyer Ferris," said the officer. "I have a passenger who wishes to disembark. Prepare for docking."

"Understood, Ferris," said Croft.

I gave Croft an odd look. Obviously, he wasn't sharing more information than he needed to. He caught my look, and responded with one of his own.

"Well?" I asked.

"I'm used to working alone," said Croft simply.

The ships were only docked for a moment when the larger destroyer detached and headed away. Croft resumed course towards Slurian space.

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Just like that," said Croft.

"Who or what did we take aboard?" I asked.

"Me," said a new voice.

I looked up to see War Captain Emmett North. "You're coming with us?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said the War Captain grimly.

"Did the War Admiral have anything to say about that?" I wondered, wondering if Admiral North would've approved.

"Yes," said the War Captain simply. Then I peered more closely in the dark cockpit and saw there was something different about his uniform. He was wearing majors' bars now.

"Congratulations on your promotion, War Major," I said.

"Thanks," said the Major. "Actually, it's Battle Major. I'm told I was actually promoted in absentia three years ago, because of the work I did on the evacuation of Caronol."

Caronol. The place where he held the rearguard action that enabled thousands to escape. Well, his reasons for being here were clear.

"I have some modest suggestions which may help you with your assault on Mount Perm," said the Battle Major. "You'll have to strike quickly, if they discover what you're attempting, they may massacre the prisoners."

"We're glad to have you along," said Croft, and even cynical Croft sounded like for once, he meant it.

"Will you get in trouble for coming with us without authorization?" I asked Emmett North.

The Battle Major laughed. "Like you, I'm also on extended leave."

We made our way into Slurian space. With time on our hands, I chatted with the Battle Major. Not that he was the most avid conversationalist, but he was a chatterbox compared to the Graftonites. Croft chipped in from time to time when he had something cynical to add.

To my surprise, we arrived without incident at Altera. Evidently Croft's forged transponder worked. Croft spent much of the time working out the final details of the rescue operation with the Battle Major and the Whisperer and the Graftonite commander, Traker Fields.

"We will be identified as a rogue ship the minute we land anywhere other than the main field at Smolensk," said Croft. "Therefore we land at the main field. Luckily enough, our first objective also happens to be in Smolensk."

Croft punched a button. The image of a redcap officer appeared on a screen.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"Captain General Vladimir Lysoko. He's the deputy commander of administration for all Redcap prison camps on Altera. We're going to take him hostage to help ensure our escape," said Croft. The image shifted to a building. "Column intelligence indicates we'll find him here, at a Redcap security building about 10 miles from the spaceport."

"We're lucky he's so nearby," I commented.

Croft said, "It wasn't luck. The Slurians have beefed up security around the planet since we started making diplomatic noises about the prisoners. Our last check showed several cruisers in orbit and reinforced ground teams. They know or suspect we may make a rescue attempt. Lysoko is in charge of security for this area so he is personally here to make sure everything is secure. Since Smolensk is the main spaceport, his presence near it is entirely logical."

"But what the Slurians fail to realize is that his presence is the greatest risk to their own security," said Emmett North. "Once we have him, we should be safe from attack."

"How do you know that?" I asked. "He's just a general, and a lower ranking one at that." At least I thought he was--the Slurian command system was a bit confusing. Captain General? I think that was a lower ranking general.

"If he were an ordinary Captain General, you might be right," said Croft. "But he's a Redcap Captain General. He can order higher ranking regular generals around, and probably does."

"But will they value his safety?" I asked.

"I think so," Croft said. "His brother will make sure of that."

"His brother?"

"A prominent member of the Slurian Central Committee."

"Oh," I said. I could see they had really researched their plan quite extensively.

Croft glared at me. "Now, without further interruption, let me continue. The ship will land. I and a team of two Graftonites will get off and retrieve the General. I will radio ahead to the port authorities that we are waiting for permission to unload. You will all wait here and do nothing. You should be unmolested for a number of hours until I return. Do you have any questions?"

"Can you really capture him with only two Graftonites?" I said.

"Our intelligence indicates he only has seven or eight bodyguards," said Croft. "That shouldn't present any problems for you, Traker, should it?

Traker Fields wordlessly shook his head.

"Oh," I said.

We touched down at Smolensk as planned. The Graftonites left the ship. A short time later we heard the sporadic sound of blaster fire. Croft and the two Graftonites returned, pushing a bound and gagged Redcap with them. I got to the controls quickly.

"Lift off," Croft ordered.

I did so. The ship took to the air.

"The coordinates have already been punched in, follow them," said Croft.

"What about pursuit?"

"If they get close, that's what we have this fellow for," said Croft. He gave the silver haired Slurian Redcap a squeeze in the shoulder. The Slurian, who was still gagged, glared at him.

We closed rapidly on Mount Perm. "So are we going to get Lysoko here to order them to surrender?"

"No," said Croft.

"No?" I asked.

"No," said the Battle Major. "Under ordinary circumstances we would. But if Major Semvarsk is in charge, he's a fanatic, he might simply slaughter the prisoners out of spite."

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We go in quietly, and then we start shooting," said Emmett North.

Croft rapidly explained his plan. I was to pilot the transport high above Mount Perm, while the assault team used gravitator chutes to land silently.

"No," I said. "I want to be there, on the ground, with you."

"You will be, when you land to get us out of here," said Croft.

"No," I sighed.

Croft turned and looked at the Battle Major.

"Don't ask me to stay behind," said Emmett North. "I have to be there too."

"Then I guess, once again, that I will stay behind," said Croft.

"Can you handle him?" North asked, indicating the tied up Slurian officer.

Croft pulled out his blaster and pounded the butt on the man's right hand. He gave a yelp.

"I think so," he said.

I was used to gravchutes, unlike their ancient cousins. I expertly slowed my descent as the flat surface of Mount Perm approached. It was early morning and only the faintest rays of light could be seem illuminating the mountaintop. I stayed in formation with the Graftonites, who were aiming to land a short distance outside the prison perimeter.

I eyed the camp in the distance. I used my scope to check out the defense perimeter.

And then I blinked. There was no sign of movement.

There was no signs of guards.

There were no signs of anyone.

"I don't see anyone," I said over the comm.

"Maintain radio silence," said a curt voice I recognized as Traker Fields, the mercenary commander.

And then the ground was rushing up on me. I adjusted the gravchute controls so that I had a relatively soft landing. By the time my feet touched the ground, the other Graftonites were out of their chutes and making faces as they waited for me and Emmett North. Well, at least the Battle Major didn't have superhuman reflexes either.

We marched towards the camp, ready for anything. When we were a hundred feet away, Traker Fields held up his hand for a halt.

He scanned the perimeter.

There was still no sign of anyone. Not even guards in the guard towers.

Traker gestured wordlessly for some of the Graftonites to make flanking maneuvers. Then, giving the Whisperer a glance, he stood up, and calmly walked towards the front gate, his blaster rifle at the ready.

When he was about twenty feet away, there was a massive explosion.

The front gate blasted outwards. There was a burst of smoke, and then laser and blaster fire surged through the void, towards our positions.

As the smoke cleared we saw soldiers running out, firing wildly in our direction. Not just soldiers, Redcaps. All of them.

Unfortunately for the Redcaps, our men were all lying prone in various areas around the front gate. They started firing too, but each of their shots were carefully aimed.

It was a slaughter. In less than a minute every Redcap was lying on the ground, unmoving.

Traker Fields calmly got up and dusted himself off. He had hit the ground the instant the gate had exploded. He paused, gazing around him, then gave a small whistle. Instantly, the other seven Graftonites jumped up, and followed him. So did the Whisperer, the Battle Major, and I.

There was sporadic resistance inside the main gate as small groups of Redcaps attempted to spring ambushes. A Graftonite would walk around a corner, and find several Redcaps prepared to spring an ambush. But they couldn't match the speed of the Graftonites. There were sounds of blaster fire, and screams, but the screams were all Redcaps.

The Battle Major and I entered one of the administrative buildings. One of the doors were locked. We blasted it open, and were quite surprised to see what we found....

It was Colonel Tenov, and his regular military men. None of them seemed to have weapons.

"You," said Tenov simply, when he recognized me.

"What happened here?" I asked.

"Shortly before you arrived, a reinforcement company of Loyalty Police arrived. One of them, a Major, relieved me and my men of command," said Tenov, gritting his teeth. He probably was especially annoyed to be relieved by a lower ranking official, but the Redcaps didn't let technicalities like rank get in the way.

"Are our men still here?" I asked.

Tenov was silent.

"If you won't help us, you're not exactly in a position to fight us, either," I said.

"No, the Loyalty Police took away our weapons, so we are unable to fight with them," said Tenov, looking only remotely distressed.

I nodded, and turned to the Battle Major. "Seal up this door. There's no other way out." I didn't even reflect on the fact that I was giving orders to a senior officer. Since this was an unofficial operation, did rank even matter? But Emmett North simply nodded and closed the door after I left, showing by his actions that he concurred with my decision.

I turned and headed for the barracks. I had no great love for Colonel Tenov, he had never treated us kindly, but my real anger was reserved for the Redcaps.

By this time the Graftonites were cautiously closing in on the barracks, having eliminated a number of deadly ambushes. I did a quick count and found that all of them were still standing. It was amazing that none of them had been harmed.

Though, perhaps, considering that they were Graftonites, perhaps it wasn't so surprising. But even Graftonites could be killed.

One of the Graftonites kicked open the door to one of the barracks. A hail of blaster fire cut him down.

In an instant the Whisperer was at the barracks, firing into the windows. In seconds Traker Fields and two of his men were doing the same. After a few more seconds there was silence. The Whisperer went over to the body of the Graftonite who had fallen, and reached down to feel for a pulse. Then he looked up at Traker Fields, and shook his head.

The Whisperer and Traker Fields entered the barracks. A few seconds later there was one shot fired. And then another. And then all was silent as both left the barracks.

Several Graftonites converged on another set of barracks. They kicked open the door, and-

a stream of prisoners emerged, with a look of disbelief in their eyes. Prisoners were rescued from three more barracks. They had all been packed tightly in there, waiting to find out what would happen. The Graftonites started to herd them towards the gate when the door to an adjacent barracks opened, and more Redcaps came rushing out, and started firing on the prisoners.

The Graftonites cooly gunned them down. Even when more Redcaps emerged from another building, the Graftonites managed to fire in two completely different directions without losing their cool. Redcaps fell to the ground, and only a few got off wild shots.

When the Redcaps stopped coming out, Traker Fields took out his comm, which had been beeping insistently for over a minute. "What?" he said simply.

"I've been trying to call you for several minutes," came Croft's voice.

"I've been busy," said Fields calmly, shooting a Redcap darting between the barracks even as he talked to Croft. Although he had only had a glimpse of the fleeing Redcap, we heard a splash in the snow indicating his shot had struck true.

"Sensors have picked up a lot of ships coming this way. I have to land now."

"The area is not fully secure," said Fields, firing again as if to make his point.

"No choice," said Croft, and we could hear the roar of the transport dropping down above us.

Traker Fields detailed several of the Graftonites to escort the prisoners to the transport, while the rest of us searched the remaining facilities.

Much to my surprise, a Redcap with his hands up popped out of one of the barracks. "Do not shoot," he said, giving a big grin.

It was Sergeant Maxim Korky, Iron Club himself.

My teeth clenched as my hands tightened on my blaster.

"I am not armed," said Korky, his hands slowly lowering. "You do not shoot unarmed people in your League, do you not?"

I raised my blaster.

"No we don't," said Emmett North, putting a restraining hand on my arm.

Korky's grin only grew wider.

"We'll take him back for trial in the League." said the War captain.

Korky's grin slowly faded.

We led Iron Club out of the barracks. We were walking by the Pit when we came face to face with the Whisperer.

"So, you made it too," said Korky. "A pity," said Korky. "If we had had only a little more time together-"

The Whisperer reached out and smacked Korky in the face. He went spinning to the ground.

Korky, blood spurting from his face, looked up to see the Whisperer pointing his blaster at him.

"League does not shoot unarmed men," said Korky.

"I'm not in the League," said the Whisperer softly.

Korky looked worried.

"Get up," the Whisperer grated.

Korky stood up.

"Turn around," said the Whisperer, his gun pointed at Korky's head. He was going to kill him, execution style.

"No, Martin," said Emmett North. "This isn't the way."

"This isn't your way," said the Whisperer.

"We don't execute people in cold blood," said Emmett North. "Let us put him on trial."

"A League trial?" said the Whisperer. "Will he get the same kind of justice that your League sought for us?"

Korky turned to face the Whisperer. "Execution is not the act of a civilized society," he said, making sure he had eye contact with the Whisperer.

At that moment, I gave a shout, as I saw Korky draw a hidden knife and dart out at the Whisperer.

He might as well have been moving in slow motion, however, for all the good it did him. The Whisperer seemed to leisurely wait until the knife was at its farthest point before knocking it away. It fell into the Pit.

"That was my favorite knife," Korky grinned. He knew now that the Whisperer wouldn't kill him.

"Then why don't you go and fetch it?" said the Whisperer, and he bodily tossed him into the Pit.

There was a loud, long scream for a moment, which was punctuated by a thud, and then a silence.

"I guess it isn't bottomless after all," said the Whisperer.

"If you're through playing here, we've got to finish up here and get to the ship," said Traker Fields. The transport had landed, and the prisoners were filing onboard, escorted by the Graftonites. "Are we done here?"

I looked around. There were two small sheds left, on opposite sides of the compound. "We just have to check out those two sheds. Martin and I can handle it."

"Good," said Fields. "I'll meet you at the ship."

We split up and each headed for a shed. I reached one of them, and opened it up. Dark. Empty. Cautiously I went inside.

Suddenly a hand came out of the dark and chopped the blaster from my hand. A Redcap stepped into the light. A very familiar Redcap, with shoulder length blond hair.

"Major Almorsa," I said, rubbing my sore wrist. "Colonel Tenov said he was relieved by a Redcap Major, but I didn't know it was you."

"I was sent here to bolster security," she said, stepping into the dim light provided by a window.

"You're doing a good job, I'm sure you'll get a medal for this," I said.

"Silence!" she said, smacking me in the face. "Do you remember what I said would happen if we met again?"

Her blaster was aimed straight at me.

"You said you'd kill me," I said.

"Yes," said Major Almorsa, smiling as her finger tightened on the trigger.

Suddenly there was a splat! as the window shattered and a thin laser bolt drilled Almorsa right in the middle of her forehead. Her mouth agape, she collapsed wordlessly to the ground.

I left the shed, to find the Whisperer casually walking up to me, holding a sniper rifle. "I thought you might need some help," he said.

Suddenly, a fighter streaked through the air, raking the ground around us with blaster fire.

"Go!" shouted the Whisperer uncharacteristically raising his voice.

We ran for the ship.

The fighter made several more passes, firing at us. Several times chunks of dirt were blown up around us, and at one point the Whisperer elbowed me out of the way of a blaster strike. After some more dodging and weaving we reached the transport, which, curiously, was not being fired upon.

The ship was lifting off even as we were closing the airlock.

I struggled to get to the cockpit even as the ship accelerated rapidly upwards.

"-convinced them that firing on us wouldn't be the best thing for the Captain-General," Croft was saying as he gunned the ship out of the atmosphere. "But they'll probably need some more convincing before they'll let us go."

The transport headed out of the atmosphere, hotly pursued by fighters who fired bursts of energy around the transport. They were obviously being careful, though, not to hit the ship.

"This will change once we break orbit," said Emmett North. "Then they will disable the engines and board us."

"Take the controls," said Croft, indicating for me to sit in the copilot's seat. I did so, while Croft made his way to the bound and gagged Captain General. Croft removed the man's gag.

Lysoko spat at him. "That wasn't very nice, General," said Croft mildly, carefully hitting him in the face.

Lysoko absorbed the blow with a bloody grin. "Surrender now, League pig, while you have the chance."

"And why would I do that?" said Croft.

"When my men board this ship, you will be lucky if you aren't taken alive," said Lysoko.

I picked up something on the sensors. Something big.

"Croft! There's a battleship ahead of us!" I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the panic out of my voice.

"Get on the comm and tell them to stand down," said Croft.

Lysoko said nothing.

Croft slapped him again. "Do it!"

"Nyet!"

"Excuse us for a moment," said Croft. "Let's have a talk, you and I. Come along, comrade." He dragged Lysoko into the room just behind the cockpit.

I heard a scream, then another, and then anguished cries. A moment later, Croft returned, dragging the General. I couldn't help but notice that not only did the General look disheveled, but he actually had tears in his eyes.

"What did you do?"

"I gave him some good advice," Croft snapped. "Now open a comm channel."

I did so.

Croft merely looked at Lysoko. Shuddering, Lysoko spoke rapidly in Slurian.

The voice on the other side spoke argumentatively.

Lysoko yelled at the voice. He was speaking quickly, and he was hard to follow, but I think he threatened to have the family of the battleship commander executed if he didn't obey.

"Yes, sir," came the voice over the comm.

The battleship backed off.

Croft switched off the comm. "Goooood," he said, as if speaking to a child.

Lysoko glared at him. I wondered what had transpired between them.

The Slurian battleship, as well as elements of a Slurian fleet, followed us at a respectful distance as we made our way to League space. Croft had dissuaded them from making a rescue attempt, but they obviously weren't simply going to let us go.

However, at the edge of Slurian space, we picked up another fleet on our sensors.

"A trap?" I said nervously.

"Check the IFF," said Croft.

I did, breathlessly. But even as the idents were coming in, we received a challenge over the comm.

"Unidentified transport, this is the Command Carrier Glory of the 7th fleet. Identify yourself."

We did, quite happily, I might add.

"You will be leaving Slurian space in... eight seconds. Prepare to dock with the Glory. We have medical and support personnel waiting for you."

"Glory, what brings you way out here?" I couldn't help but ask.

The voice of War Admiral Norman North could be heard. "Routine maneuvers, Idaho."

I looked at the Battle Major, and we exchanged big smiles.

I reported back for active duty on the Glory a month later. The War Admiral was waiting for me in his office.

"That was a fine piece of work you did, Iday," said the War Admiral. "If it had been a League operation, you would have received a medal."

We both laughed. Amazingly, we had rescued all the prisoners with only a single casualty, the Graftonite mercenary who had been lost in our initial attack.

"I just wonder if there are any other prisoners out there who are still being held," I said.

"There's no way to know for sure," said the War Admiral. "Not unless we conquer the Slurian Union."

"Will it come to that, someday?"

"They haven't given up," said the War Admiral. "They'll be back."

At that moment I wondered what had happened to the Professor, and Sasha, and Mr. Chekov, who I had gotten separated from after I had been transferred to Mount Perm.

The War Admiral must have noticed me frowning, because he said, "What?"

"I was just thinking of some friends I escaped with when I was a prisoner in the Slurian labor camp. I got separated from them, and don't know what happened to them."

The War Admiral shrugged. "There are some things that will never be known."

I nodded, but I spent just a few seconds more wondering about the fate of Korolev, Mr. Chekov, Sasha, and especially Kerensky.

Afterwards

The Time: Several hundred years after the end of the story

The Place: The Palace of Rulers, Pushkin, the former capital of the Slurian Union

"An interesting account, Idaho," said the man, sitting behind the desk. "I wish I had read it earlier."

"Thank you, Mr. President," I said. "But I published this account of my time in the Slurian labor camps a long time ago."

"Well, it was a banned book here, until we got the Slurian regime off our backs," said the President. "I think people will still have trouble believing some of the tales of your account. Many of the worst crimes of the regime were not commonly known."

"That's why I've come to you," I said.

"I will make sure this book is published far and wide and made available to everyone," said the President.

"So, you have no objections with the content?" I said.

"Objections?" said the President of the Pushkin Republic, looking puzzled.

"Well, I did make you appear a bit like an aloof intellectual in my account," I said.

President Kerensky laughed and put an arm around me. "Don't worry Idaho, I'll have my writers improve those parts of your story before it is distributed."

The End