A Cat at Bay Page 9

  Later that afternoon Rachel finished dressing for the evening’s formal reception and banquet. She’d decided to get ready a little early and then hide. Jones didn’t care for these kinds of events, and cowardice was definitely the better part of valor when it came to being around her. One of these days I’ll have to wear my full High-Court Azdhagi formal attire again Rachel mused as she finished arranging her petticoats. Some time when I don’t have to worry about having passes made at me, that is! I miss the built-in body armor. And my sword and blaster and knives and other accessories. Rachel braided her hair back and around her head with a silver ribbon, then pinned it firmly. She shook hard, but nothing moved. Good. One plain ring and a dragon-shaped silver bar pin on her collar were her only jewelry.

  Rachel found an empty side parlor not far from where the evening’s events were to take place and settled down to read, tucking then spreading her skirts so they wouldn’t crease underneath her. Ah, Azdhagi battle-ballads and a quiet moment. Would that all afternoons were like this. She disappeared as far into the electronic book as felt safe.

  She’d read fifteen pages or so when one of the servants interrupted her. “Commander Na Gael?”

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  The formally dressed man shook his head, but handed her a folded note. “General Jones asked me to give this to you.”

  Rachel accepted the paper, asking, “Does the general want a reply?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Once he left, Rachel marked her place in the book and looked over the folded paper, feeling it for edge messages. Nothing there, and she relaxed a bit since that meant that the sender wasn’t trying to convey information under the nose of someone hostile. “Don’t wait for me. The Secretary has called a meeting with some of us and it will probably run late. E.R.J.” Rachel read. Never a dull moment in the life of an administrator, Rachel thought, hoping that whatever was going on would not leave her superior in too bad of a mood. It could be a long trip “home” the next day, otherwise. She pocketed the note and returned to her book.

  Several pages later, a familiar voice called, “Herr Graf-General, I found one of the British contingent, I do believe.” Rachel looked up to see a smiling Joschka and his wife sweeping through the open doorway. As on the first evening, he wore evening dress with a sash that brought out the blue in his eyes. His lady wore a medium lavender tea-length gown and more modest sash. Rachel stood, took a half step forward and gave an exactly proper curtsey, then winked at the nobles, who chuckled. “No gloves?” Adele teased gently.

  Rachel smiled in return. “No, my lady, because no tiara.”

  A mischievous look crossed Joschka’s face and he looked down at his wife. “Would you like to combine her visit with that formal reception we need to give? It could be most entertaining.”

  His lady examined the somewhat innocent-looking brunette from head to toe. “I think that is one of your better ideas, my lord.”

  “On a more serious note,” he said, turning toward Rachel, “have you seen any of the other British personnel?”

  “Not for a while, my lord. General Jones sent me a note saying that they would be late because of a meeting and to go on without them.”

  “Hmmm. And the most senior people from North America are also absent, thus far. Ah well, probably something minor.”

  “Do I need to, ah, call them?”

  “No, no point in disturbing a meeting.”

  Lady von Hohen-Drachenburg nudged her husband, “My lord, why not have her sit with us for the moment at least? There will be room.”

  The Graf-General’s eyes lit. “Good thought. Commander Na Gael, would you care to dine with us, if your party is delayed? My adjutant learned last night that he is about to be a father earlier than anticipated and I sent him home, so we have an extra seat.”

  Rachel put her e-reader away with a sincere smile. “My lord General, I’d be delighted to join you.”

  “Then come,” he ordered, and she followed as he took his wife’s arm.

  “Commander, your pin?” Adele inquired.

  Rachel fingered the ornament. “Yes my Lady?”

  “You have good taste,” the silver-haired woman said, and winked over her shoulder.

  “Thank you, my Lady. It was a gift.”

  An ageless baritone voice rolled into her mind, «A gift? You ‘borrowed’ that from my family gems, as I recall.»

  Struggling to maintain a straight face, Rachel shot back, «I ‘borrowed’ it after trouncing you in a fencing bout, if you care to remember. Something about a small wager, my lord? Care for a rematch?»

  She watched his shoulders tremble as he smothered laughter. «I may just take you up on that offer, Rada.»

  «Please do. Foil or saber, your choice.»

  Head high, Rachel swept into the dining room. She stepped aside a pace to allow the other Austrian officers and Dr. Blaylack, their xenologist, to precede her behind their commanding officer, then followed the group. The whole process reminded her very much of being back in the Azdhag court, except that no one deferred to her here. Then again, she didn’t have to, and couldn’t, go armed at all times like she did among the Azdhagi.

  The Graf-General gestured toward a seat across from his second-in-command. “Commander Na Gael, you sit there. Colonel, you have no doubt heard of Commander Rachel Na Gael of the British Branch. Commander, my executive officer Colonel Helmut Eszterházy.”

  The handsome blond colonel bowed slightly before extending his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Cdr. Na Gael! The Graf-General has said good things about you. And good work the other morning.”

  Rachel blushed slightly under the sincere praise. “Thank you, Colonel. I was simply doing what any other paramedic would have done.”

  After an excellent supper of traditional southern German specialties, the group adjourned briefly so the servants and waiters could clear the tables from the hall for the talk and music that would follow. Over the course of the dinner both Rachel and Joschka had grown increasingly concerned about both the mood of the gathering and the continued absence of the British and Americans. Under the cover of moving out of the way of the workers, the general tugged his lady and Rachel over to the side of the hall, followed by his officers. “All right, now I’m worried. Commander can you ‘call’ Jones or one of the other officers?”

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself with a hand against the hall’s wooden paneling. “Yes, but I may need a boost.”

  He took his wife’s hand. “Adele, would you monitor us please?” She nodded once, as the other Austrians kept an eye on the rest of the hall. Rachel closed her eye and reached for her commanding officer’s mental signature.

  She located it after some hunting. The trace was faint at first, then strong and hot with anger. «Found her! And she’s very angry. Brace yourself,» Rachel thought to Joschka. «Evelyn, it’s me!»

  A blast of anger, then relief rolled over the link and Rachel shunted it aside. «God damn it. It was a trap! We and the North Americans are under armed guard down in one of the castle’s lower levels,» Jones growled.

  «Do you want me to try and find you?»

  «No! Too dangerous. Stay out of sight and we’ll take care of ourselves. Command One out.» And the woman broke the link, knocking Rachel back into herself.

  “Ouch,” she winced. “My lord and lady, are you all right?”

  Joschka nodded brusquely and his wife lifted an eyebrow. “Commander, you have my sympathy if your commanding officer is like that very often.”

  Rachel, recovering quickly, replied, “Thank you, my lady. You should hear what she’s like when she’s in a bad mood.”

  Adele and Rachel stepped aside as the general thought long and hard about the situation. “Thank you for the anchor.”

  “You’re welcome. Joschka told me a bit about you,” Adele admitted. “What are you going to do?”

  Rachel glanced around, checking the doors and crowd position. “I would try to go back to my room, but I
don’t think it’s safe. Not if someone has the others under guard. In fact, my being with you at this moment isn’t safe, my lady. Excuse me.” Before the human could argue, Rachel walked away from the Austrian contingent, over to where a waiter had set up a table with mineral water, coffee, and tea. She collected a glass of water, then continued drifting until she had a clear view of the hall.

  The room had once been the castle’s great hall, back in the days when Schloss Klarbach belonged to a border baron. Over the years, owners had added wooden paneling along the lower part of the walls and an enclosed musicians’ gallery on three sides. It was perfect for a gathering like this one, and for an ambush. Two doors on the main floor level provided the only visible exits. Not that those mean anything in a castle like this one, Rachel thought. There are probably more holes than an Appenzeller cheese, but I’m not going to walk around tapping the panels to find them. She sipped her water and watched the goings-on.

  An electronic beeping sound and commotion by the wall facing her caught her attention, as did the accompanying surge of emotions. An upset woman’s voice said, “Undersecretary LePlace, what is that device doing?”

  A man responded “Nothing much, Dr. MuTheko. Don’t worry.”

  Rachel felt a surge of triumph as well as bursts of anger, confusion, and fear. Oh damn. All the non-humans are in this room and all those who might defend us are prisoner. Bugger, buggerbuggerbugger. The Undersecretary, one of the GDF’s special-forces soldiers, and another civilian walked among the guests. The civilian carried a black and metallic grey box, just slightly larger than both his hands, that hummed and beeped. When the trio passed the North African contingent, a red light flashed and the beeping changed tone, growing louder as the box pointed at an Arab-looking captain. Rachel was not the least surprised when it acted up at her, but snarled inwardly as the thing also alerted on General von Hohen-Drachenburg. Cute. The most senior military leader present, someone who can prove you a liar, and two innocents for cover. Acting as puzzled as the others looked, Rachel sipped her water. A flash from the past leaked through her defenses and she swatted the memory down. Stop that, she ordered her shaking hand.

  Motion at the doors drew everyone’s attention to the guards now blocking the exits. At the head of the room, Secretary Nguen, Undersecretary LePlace, and others gathered in a cluster, discussing something intently. Who’s he going to go after first, I wonder? Except for the Austrian contingent, people had drawn away from all those the box had beeped at. Rachel glanced around and Joschka caught her eye. «They know?» she sent.

  «Two do, one is a cousin,» then he closed the connection tight.

  Two more guards flanked the party at the head of the room, and Rachel ran though some mental math. Let’s see, four of the special forces are here, and I’ve seen thirteen total. That makes seventeen, but they usually travel in pairs so let’s make it an even score. If four are guarding the Brits and Canucks, since no one in their right mind leaves North Americans unsupervised, there are twelve still roaming around. Eight will stay outside, so where are the others stashed?

  After more consultation, the people on the low platform at the head of the room reached some sort of conclusion and they turned to face the gathered men and women. The round-faced Undersecretary began, “I am very sorry, and disturbed, to report that there are four aliens who have infiltrated themselves among the senior leadership of the Defense Force. One has been suspected for some time, but the others are an unwelcome surprise.”

  Rachel lowered her glass as a voice called out, “Who, Undersecretary LePlace?”

  Heads swung her direction as he answered, “The one calling herself Commander Rachel Na Gael, to begin with.”

  Given the mood that had been building, or rather, being built over the course of the week, Rachel wasn’t surprised at the hostile looks and ripple of motion away from where she stood. She put on her best look of affronted innocence as she riposted, “Just how do you propose to prove that I am a threat, Undersecretary? Your ‘alien sensor’ alerts on me, true, but it also seems to go off in the presence of General von Hohen-Drachenburg, Captain Maliki, and Doctor Mary MuTheko, among others. Are you suggesting that we are all non-human? And also threats, simply because your device beeps at us? I mean really now,” and she continued, interrupting the Undersecretary’s attempted interruption, “if either the Graf-General, say, or I, were dangerous aliens intent on harming Earth, we have had multiple opportunities to do something nefarious over the course of our careers.”

  Annoyed but calm, the bureaucrat answered. “Any alien in the ranks is a threat. Where are your true loyalties, if you are not from this planet? You could just be biding your time until the moment arrived—a mole in our midst.”

  Rachel laughed, surprising both the Undersecretary and the people around her. “Even if I were an alien, since I took the same oath as all the other members of this organization, that should answer the loyalty question. As will my service record, my scars, and the men and women I serve with,” she finished proudly, head high. And the fact that I followed orders and did not bring my usual weapons, an order I will never obey again, my hand to the heavens.

  A weak counter ripple of doubt moved through the crowd and a Russian-accented bass voice rumbled, “Why not ask Brigadier Jones. Who should be here, along with General Heath.”

  Murmurs of curiosity grew among the scattered group as it became apparent that of the British contingent, only their xenologist stood in the room. Neither could anyone find the top three North Americans. Four of the six who know I’m not human and who trust me. And what’s that in the gallery? Rachel turned her head a fraction so she could see more of the enclosed gallery that ran around the top of the banqueting hall. Hints of motion and a flash of light on metal sent her heart plunging. Oh Lord, help us: those are the ‘missing’ special troopers. What has that idiot got planned?

  Rachel shifted her weight until she was in a position to move quickly if shooting started. As she did so, a wave of the scent she had been tracking earlier that week blasted across the room and she snapped around to face the door, just in time to see a large, black fog materialize in a puff of ozone. What in the hell is—Scheisse! She dodged something tentacle-like that flashed past her, then vanished back into the fog.

  The amorphous shape thickened and darkened until it took on a vaguely bipedal form, albeit one with five appendages and standing roughly three meters tall. A flurry of motion overtook the room as people ducked for cover or rallied around their commanding officers. The two guards near the door pointed their weapons at the thing, only to find them snatched from their grasp by clumps of fog. Nice transport timing, that, Rachel observed, impressed despite her total surprise.

  Once the motion ceased, Rachel, the Undersecretary, and the thing stood at the points of a triangle. A familiar voice whispered in her mind, «Was ist das?»

  «A bounty hunter from Dernant Six, Graf-General, and you might want to get out of the snipers’ line, sir.»

  «Wo?»

  «Balcony, at least four, our special forces.»

  Joschka swore under his breath and withdrew as the Undersecretary pointed and shouted, “See! I was right. She’s an enemy alien and that thing is helping her.” Rachel heard a scuffle in the gallery but didn’t waste time looking.

  A high-pitched, reedy voice emerged from somewhere in the cloud and Rachel recognized the overtones of a simul-translator. “Your pardon for the interruption. I’ve come to serve a warrant on the criminal known as Vermala gel Kresht, from Blaze’s World. It is wanted for usurpation of the Mefelian government and for inciting the Kerkala Massacre. Vermala, will you surrender peaceably?”

  Rachel repressed a bit of self-satisfaction as the bounty hunter pointed an appendage toward the Undersecretary, who flinched before recovering his composure. “Good try, Commander Na Gael—or whatever your real name is—but I know who you are and this shoddy trick won’t help you.”

  Which could have been very persuasive, given the climate of
fear and prejudice in the room, except that the Undersecretary’s stress and fear overloaded both his mass-reduction device and his holo projector, causing them to begin failing midway through “his” declamation. Instead of a harried, forgettable human bureaucrat in evening dress, what finished the speech was a jaundice-yellow, feathered reptile waving an “alien detector” that had apparently failed to detect the large creature standing at the other end of the hall.

  Rachel folded her arms and sauntered towards the soon-to-be former Undersecretary, inquiring mildly, “How long have you been buried in the GDF, Vermala?” As the yellow creature sputtered, she turned and walked back to her starting position, arms still crossed, expression still politely inquisitive.

  “Eight stinking years, trapped on this backwater mudball, Wanderer’s bastard! Before you led that bounty hunter here, you human-loving scum,” Vermala snarled, lunging toward the nearest startled guard, reaching for the soldier’s rifle. Before anyone could respond, a remarkably solid and quite long tentacle snapped out of the bounty hunter’s torso, grabbing the reptile and jerking it in like a fish on a line. More “limbs” emerged to wrap the creature in gassy blackness, silencing it.

  The bounty hunter corrected the fugitive as it reeled him in. “I have been tracking criminals for many gerlang and do not need the assistance of a bodied being to find my quarry, Vermala. Again, I apologize for the intrusion, gentle beings. This one will be returned to the Courts of All Justice for sentencing appropriate to its crimes.”