Chapter 7
Count Victor Vorstakof stared out the window at the stars twinkling above the mountain tops. He'd always loved this place. It had been a place he could retreat to and let the peace and calm of the mountains drive out the everyday cares and frustrations that so often filled him.
I could lose this, too, along with everything else. I must have been out of my mind. Surely no rebellion ever started with less planning or hung by a thinner thread. In all probability he was condemning his men, his son, and himself to death.
But what choice had there been?
For twenty years he'd been planning Dorca's overthrow. He'd sworn on his father's deathbed, where he lay dying with an Imperial musket ball in his guts, that he would someday bring the tyrant down. It had seemed an impossible promise at the time, with Dorca's decisive victory at the battle of Neshaminy and his armies overrunning the last of the rebellious counts' strongholds. It had grown no less impossible with the passing years. He himself had been spared by Dorca's amnesty and he was even permitted to inherit the countship. Dorca's hold was still tenuous and he'd been forced to show certain mercies to forestall a brutal guerilla war in the mountains. So Lord Viktor Vorstakof had become Count Vorstakof and he'd knelt and sworn fealty to Dorca Vorbarra. The memory still burned. But there had been no choice. If he'd refused then he and his family, his infant son, would have been given over to the headsman and the Vorstakof line would have ended.
So he'd pretended to submit, but he never forgot his vow to his father. A vow which superseded any vow to Dorca. And then he'd gone to work. He'd carefully contacted men of like mind, patiently observed his enemy, made plans, always in the strictest secrecy. Many plans. Many, many plans. Year by year he'd made plans and discarded them. Over and over. Plans to assassinate Dorca. Plans to subvert his allies. Plans to rise in a new rebellion. Plans and plans and plans.
But after twenty years none of them had borne fruit. Dorca was too powerful, too clever, too ruthless. Vorstakof was fifty now. His son was twenty-two. The time to fulfill his promise was slipping by, slipping through his aging fingers. The chances were growing slimmer instead of more promising. His frustration had grown, too.
And then this had happened!
None of his plans, not his wildest imaginings, had ever included the arrival of aliens from the stars!
At first he'd refused to believe, but that had only lasted a few moments. Once he'd accepted the truth the whole situation became crystal clear to him: this was his last chance.
In his grandfather's time men fought with flintlock muskets and bronze cannons. The muskets were individually made by craftsmen. Any village with a good blacksmith had the means to produce them. Any town of modest size with a foundry could cast a cannon. The would-be emperors of the Vorbarra clan could make more muskets and more cannons than most counts, but not more than all the counts together. They'd tried to subjugate the counts, but they'd failed time and time again.
But then had come the percussion muskets and the rifles and the iron cannons with exploding shells, and the railways and the telegraphs… Those couldn't be made by a village blacksmith. Even the towns found it difficult. But in Vorbarr Sultana, that huge, stinking city, there those things could be made and made in quantity. Whole factories turned them out by the hundreds and the thousands. No other town on Barrayar could match the output of the great Imperial City. And the city made other things, too, things that brought trade and wealth to the Vorbarras. Wealth enough to build an army that no count, no group of counts, could match. Oh, perhaps if all the counts had banded together, but the Vorbarras' wealth could buy counts just as it could buy artillery. One by one they fell under his sway and when the time was right he crushed all opposition. Now the Imperial Army held the world in a grip of steel. For all his scheming, Vorstakof had found no answer, no way to overthrow the emperor.
The coming of the aliens could change everything—or nothing.
It was this miserable technology which had given the empire its unbeatable edge. And now Dorca was being handed an even more enormous edge, technology hundreds of years more advanced, devices that couldn't be built anywhere on Barrayar. Vorstakof had no idea what sort of weapons these aliens possessed, but they must be devastating, indeed. In the hands of Dorca, they would give him an insurmountable edge. Even if somehow Vorstakof convinced every count to join him and half the Imperial Army to desert, it would all be for naught if Dorca had a loyal core of troops armed with the aliens' weapons. Put those weapons in Dorca's hands and his tyranny would be unbreakable.
But if the weapons were in his hands…
It was that image, along with the sure knowledge that if he failed to act now it would mean failure for all time, which had driven him to move. Driven him to gamble everything. It was the only possible action, but it was still insane. Maybe I should have waited. Just let it go… No, damn it! His hands clutched the window sill like a pair of claws.
"Father?" The voice at his side made him flinch. He forced his hands to relax and he turned to look at his son. "They're here, Father." Alexei stood there with an expression of excited anticipation on his face. The boy—no, he was a man now—thought this was all some grand adventure. How much he looked like his late mother! A stab of fear twisted Vorstakof's belly. Was he throwing his boy into the flames along with everything else? He took a deep breath and tried to find the calm this place usually granted him.
"Good," he said, slapping his son's shoulder. "Let's go and meet our guests."
[Scene Break]
Arkadi clutched the arms of the seats on either side of him and tried to ignore the fact that he was flying. Flying! I must have been out of my mind! Crouched where he was between the rows of seats, he could look out through the forward window of the alien vehicle. All he could see were clouds rushing past, faintly illuminated by pale moonlight, rushing faster than he'd ever imagined possible.
"How the hell did I ever let you talk me into this?" shouted Andre Goldcamp from the seat next to him. "This is madness!"
"Well, if you want to get off, I'll ask Cummings to open the door and you can jump!"
"No thanks! How much longer?"
"Not long!" I hope!
He knew that it was less than thirty minutes since they had left Vorbarr Sultana, but it felt like hours. The plan, when it had first popped into his head, was clearly insane and he'd never expected to get this far. He was sure he'd be stopped, probably reprimanded by the Count, possibly dismissed, and certainly sent to his room without supper. But he hadn't been stopped. Somehow he'd managed to convince Andre to throw in with him and the two of them had rustled up five of the 'replacement' armsmen that the Count had acquired and told them they had a mission—and nothing more. Then it had just been a matter of marching out to the shuttle with Ian Cummings in the center of the group as if they were escorting him. The palace guards hadn't said a word until they were aboard with the doors shut. They'd probably said a few things then, but it was impossible to hear with the building roar of the shuttle's engine. And then they were off. Simple as that. Amazing what you could accomplish by betraying a trust that you'd spent a lifetime building.
He had planned this primarily as a last sop to his damaged honor. One last try to get the boy back himself before admitting that he had failed and it was all up to others to do the job he had botched. But now that the first part of the plan had worked, somehow, somehow he had to make all the rest of it work, too.
He didn't think that would go quite so smoothly.
"Okay, I'm circling the landing area." Cummings voice sounding inside his ear made him flinch. The alien had given him one of the tiny devices and stuck it in his ear. A microphone was clipped to his shirt and the computer that made it all work, packed deep in a pocket. "All right, I see a spot where I can put you down. Hang on!" Arkadi gripped the seats tighter.
"Just about there!" he shouted. "Get ready to get out!"
"Thanks God!" He wasn't sure who had shouted that. It could have been anyone—or everyone. The vehicle tilted and then turned and suddenly dropped in a fashion that made him gasp, and a moment later lurched to a halt, leaning a bit to one side. The doors to the outside hissed open and Arkadi was on his feet.
"Go! Let's go!" He led the way out and his boots crunched on gravel and small stones as he jumped down. It was dark now and the ground uneven and he nearly fell, but he kept his feet and helped the others as they made their jumps. All of them had bulky packs, rifles and ammunition, which made them even more awkward. But all of them made it and they slid, stumbled and jumped their way down the rock slide that they'd picked for a landing spot. When they were about a hundred yards away, Arkadi stopped and gently squeezed the microphone. "All right, Ian, we're clear!"
"Right-O!" came the reply. "I'll be tracking you and waiting for your signal. Good luck!" The shuttle's engines took on a higher pitch and the amazing machine lifted away into the night. It was too risky to leave the shuttle here with no guard, but it certainly couldn't go back to the palace, so they'd found an inaccessible mountain top about twenty miles to the west where it could land again and wait.
The silence left behind when the machine vanished seemed unnatural. The crunch of the stones under his boots were strangely loud, his breath, his pounding heart… "Okay, let's get moving," he said. "We've got a long way to go and not much time to get there." He turned and led the way to the bottom of the slide. They entered a woods and it seemed as dark as the inside of a sack. Only a few rays from the lesser moon made it through to the forest floor. But they reached the bottom of the slope and found the stream that the alien's map said would be here. They stumbled along its banks for a mile or so and then it met a larger watercourse. Another mile and they came to a bridge and the road that would lead them to where Lord Vorkosigan and the aliens were being held.
Arkadi was acutely aware that there was only him and six other men to penetrate what was sure to be a closely held stronghold of the enemy. He was counting heavily on surprise. The enemy did not know he knew they were there and hopefully they wouldn't believe that there was any threat of an attack this soon. Vorstakof (assuming he was actually here) and his men could have only arrived, at most, the day before and the men escorting his captives even more recently. They'd all be tired, all counting on at least one night of rest before any danger might appear. So they had to bring the danger to them as quickly as possible. Arkadi looked at the position of the stars. It was still three hours before midnight. But they were ten miles from their destination, much of it uphill.
"Come on, keep moving!"
[Scene Break]
"And so you see, Lady Sheela, Captain Hodgkins, I felt I had no choice but to bring you here. If you had been prevented from hearing anything but the Emperor's lies you would have had no idea what a terrible tyrant you'd be unwittingly helping. Again I apologize for bringing you here in the manner I did, but if you'd been taken to Vorbarr Sultana, you would have been outside my reach and you might never have learned the truth."
Count Vorstakof paused and took a sip from his wine. Sheela slowly let her breath out. Their 'host' had barely stopped talking all through dinner. There was no doubt that the man had a powerful charisma and he could make a compelling argument, a natural leader. In spite of herself Sheela half-believed the accusations Vorstakof had leveled against Emperor Dorca. And why shouldn't she? The only things she knew about this world and its people were what she'd been told by Count Vorkosigan's people. And they were loyal supporters of the Emperor, so they certainly weren't going to say anything bad about him! What if he really was the bloody-handed despot Vostakof claimed him to be? Of course, by her own standards, even the most enlightened ruler these Barrayarans could imagine would seem a terrible tyrant. What if Dorca really is a monster? Does it make any difference? Would this Vorstakof be any better if he were in charge?
And for all his smooth words, the fact remained that Emperor Dorca had done no harm to her or her friends, while Vorstakof had killed or injured a bunch of people and then dragged her here against her will. Not a very good first impression, that was for sure!
But that was all beside the point. The only thing that mattered was that a rescue party was on the way. She could scarcely believe that Ian had agreed to it, but with Arkadi Kursov in charge she could see how it could happen. The man was not someone who took 'no' for an answer. But only one shuttle full of rescuers… there had to be at least a hundred armed men here at The Overlook. Their only hope was surprise. Somehow she had to put this Vorstakof at ease, play him along, do nothing to arouse his suspicions.
"Well," said Vorstakof after another moment. "I've bent your ears long enough with political bombast that probably doesn't mean a lot to visitors like you. So, let's get down to business, shall we?" Vorstakof had a slight smile on his face and the tone of his voice reminded her a bit of Count Vorkosigan on the train. "It is clear that you people have technology far in advance of what we have here on Barrayar. If that wasn't true, then you wouldn't be here, eh? I am assuming that you must possess weapons that are just as advanced as your spaceships. Correct?" His expression became very intent and he wasn't smiling anymore. Sheela realized that his entire plot, probably his life, hung on getting the weapons.
She glanced at Tam, who was sweating. "Well, yes, that's true," she said. "We've seen some examples of your weapons—in action—and yes, we do have things that are far more powerful."
Vorstakof relaxed slightly. "Good. Good, I couldn't see how it could be otherwise. So I'll be plain: I want to buy weapons from you. I'm realistic enough to realize that this is very much a seller's market and that you are in a position to demand a high price. So be it. Name your price and let me have the weapons. What do you say?"
Tam opened his mouth, but Sheela cut him off. "Count Vorstakof, would you permit us to discuss your very kind offer in private for a few minutes?"
The Count frowned, but he couldn't very well deny such a reasonable request without also denying his insistence that they were guests and not prisoners. After a moment he nodded. "Certainly. I think everyone is about done eating, so if you and Captain Hodgkins would like to use my study to confer, that would be fine. Please come this way." He rose from his chair and escorted Tam and her down a hallway and opened a heavy wooden door. On the other side was a sumptuous room with rich paneling and many shelves holding real paper books. "This is actually a better place to hold our talks than the dining room," he said. "I'll leave you here until you are ready to resume. There will be a man outside if you need anything." He started to bow himself out, but Sheela stopped him.
"Excuse me, my lord, I was wondering about Lord Vorkosigan. He's just a boy and I was growing quite fond of him during our journey. I'd really hate to see him come to any harm. Would it be possible for me to see him?"
Vorstakof's eyebrows drew together. "Perhaps later, my lady. But I assure you he's fine. He has his own room up on the third floor. Now, I shall see you again shortly." He shut the door behind him.
"What the hell are…?" began Tam, but Sheela instantly shushed him.
"Quiet!" She came over to him and whispered. "They might not have electronic bugs but there could still be people watching us!"
"All right," he whispered back. "But what the hell are we going to do? This guy wants weapons and he's gonna totally flip out if we tell him we can't deliver any!"
"Then we don't tell him!"
"What? Are you crazy?"
"Probably. But Tam, there's a rescue party on its way! I heard from Ian while I was dressing! He's flying them to a spot near here in the shuttle!"
"Oh my God, he's gonna get us all killed!" groaned Tam. "Why the hell did he…?"
"Wasn't his idea. That Arkadi Kursov is leading it and you saw what he was like."
"But… but the shuttle! You mean this 'rescue' party only has five men in it?" Tam's eyes were getting very wide.
"Seven, actually. But let me contact Ian and see where they are." She touched her microphone. "Ian? Ian? Where are you?"
"Sheela! Sitting on a mountaintop waiting for Arkadi's signal! How are you guys?"
"We've got a tiger by the tail! Where's Arkadi?"
"Hold on a second, I'm tracking his communicator… Okay, he's about six klicks northeast of you, but it will be a lot farther by the trails he has to follow. He was only going to follow the main road part of the way and then take some little trails we spotted so he can come in from the rear. He figured it would take another five or six hours to get into position…"
"Not good enough!" hissed Sheela. "Vorstakof wants an answer from us about the weapons tonight. We'll stall him as long as we can, but I don't know how long that's gonna be. Tell Arkadi to hurry!"
"Okay, will do."
Sheela relayed the news to Tam, who looked close to panic. Sheela was feeling pretty panicked herself. "We're dead… we're dead," he moaned.
"If you don't keep your head, we will be dead!" she snapped. "Now pull yourself together! This guy needs what he thinks we can give him. Without the weapons he's gonna be dead! So as long as he thinks we can help him he won't try anything rough. I know you can play a pretty good game of poker, Tam, so bluff this guy! We just have to stall him the rest of tonight."
Tam pressed his hands to his head but before he could make any response there was a knock on the door and an instant later it swung open. Count Vorstakoff was there with four other men. One was just a servant who deposited a tray with a carafe of wine and glasses and quickly left again. Tam sat down next to the tray and helped himself with shaking hands. Sheela felt like she could use a stiff drink herself. Another of the men was some sort of advisor to the Count, they'd been introduced at dinner, but she couldn't remember his name. The other two were the Count's armsmen. One came into the room while the other remained in the hallway and shut the door. "Are you ready to resume?" asked Vorstakof.
"Uh, sure," said Sheela. She wondered where Lord Vorfallon was, he had seemed to be the Count's number two man.
"Good. Why don't we all sit down?" They all found chairs, except for the armsman who stood by the door. "Now, we were talking about your selling weapons to me." He stared at them and Sheela suppressed a shiver.
"Of… of course,' said Sheela. "We'd be happy to sell weapons to you, my lord…" she hesitated and then a flash inspiration hit her. "In fact, if you like, we can show some of them to you."
"What? How?" demanded the Count. "You didn't have any with you…"
"Well, I should have said we can show you pictures of them and what they can do. Lord Vorfallon… uh, borrowed two small, flat devices of ours when he, uh, invited us to come here."
"Yes, he gave them to me," said Vorstakof. "He said you said they were recording devices."
"Uh, yes. They can do a bit more than that, my lord, but it was too complicated to explain in the heat of the moment. They can also display pictures of things. If you could have them brought here, we could show you."
"Very well." He sent his advisor—Vorjervis, that was his name—out to fetch the computer pads. Sheela swallowed nervously, but she remembered what a sensation the displays had been with the Barrayarans on the train. With any luck she could keep Vorstakof enthralled for hours! Vorjervis returned in just a few moments bearing the two pads. Sheela took hers and set it on the desk and slowly—she must go slowly!—called up the holographic projector. This brought cries of wonder from the Barrayarans and she spent ten minutes just fiddling with the size, shape, and angle of the display.
"Okay, now what should I show you first?" She smiled at the Count and tried not to tremble.
Hurry, Arkadi! Wherever you are, hurry!
[Scene Break]
Arkadi almost flung himself on the ground when the voice started talking in his ear. Damn! He'd been so concentrated on watching for any movement, listening for any sound, he'd forgotten about that bloody thing!
"Arkadi, can you hear me?" He motioned for his men to halt.
"Yes," he whispered. "What is it?"
"Just talked to Sheela. That Vorstakof guy is foaming at the mouth. She doesn't think they can stall him much longer. You're gonna have to get there sooner!"
"Sooner? That's impossible! We're just about to turn off the road onto that trail! We'll be lucky to be in position before dawn!"
"They can't wait that long!"
"Damn it, we can't attack while they're all awake! They're only seven of us!"
"Well this whole crazy scheme was your idea, man! And they're running out of time!"
Arkadi clenched his fist. The only way they could get there faster was to stay on the road. They could probably be there in two hours that way, but it was insanely dangerous. They would be sure to be spotted and challenged and that would be the end of it. Damn!
"Arkadi?"
"All right! All right! We'll do what we can!"
The alien clicked off and Arkadi looked at the six men with him. He was leading them to their deaths this way. But we've all sworn to die for the Count. There might not ever be a better time.
"Come on, keep moving."
[Scene Break]
"And now this one is a… uh, Mark XIX heavy plasma arc," said Sheela. She touched a control and a new image appeared, a man holding a large gun which proceeded to blast some targets to little tiny bits. Her audience oohed and ahhed appreciatively. She'd been doing this for well over an hour and they didn't seem the least bit bored.
"Good, huh?" said Tam, taking a drink from his glass. He'd been drinking a lot…
"Oh ho, milord!" chortled Vorjervis. "Just imagine what something like that would do to Dorca's army!"
"I am, believe me I am," said Vorstakof with a hungry look in his eye. But now he turned that eye on her and Tam. "So when? When can you deliver these things to me?"
"Uh, well, my lord," said Sheela, "we've shown you what we have to offer. Now, I'm afraid we have to come to the other half of the bargain: what do you have to offer us in payment?"
"What do you want in payment? I can give you gold, silver, gemstones…"
"Ah well, you see, my lord, such things do have value, but are not generally used as money out in the galaxy…" she launched into an explanation of galactic economics similar to what they'd told Count Vorkosigan on the train. She kept looking at Tam for help, but he didn't say much beyond a few grunts. What was the matter with the man?
"Yes, yes, this is all very interesting, Lady Sheela," interrupted the Count after a while. The look on his face told her he was running out of patience. "But it seems to me that the bottom line is that we do have things of value, things that could pay for these weapons. We can work out the details later, but I need the weapons as soon as possible. When can you deliver them?"
Oh Dear. She'd known this question was coming and she'd wracked her brain for what to say. She could just lie and tell him what he wanted to hear, but the lie would unravel very, very quickly. How quickly? Could it buy her enough time? "Uh… well, we'll have to get in touch with our ship and see what…" But she'd hesitated too long and Vorstakof cut her off.
"Captain Hodgkins! You've let this woman talk for you all evening! But you are in command, are you not? Why do you not speak for yourself?"
"'Cause Sheela talks so nice, dontcha think?" answered Tam with a horrible grin on his face.
"'S'what she's good at, y'know? I bet she could be good at some other things, too, but she never tries." Omigod! How much has he had to drink?
"But now I'm asking you," said Vorstakof in an icy voice. "When… can… I… get… those… weapons?"
"Oh… a month maybe," said Tam, waving a hand in the air. "Six weeks, top."
Oh shit…
The color drained out of Vorstakof's face. "A month!" he exploded. "I need them now! Now!"
"What? D'you think I fly around with a hundred plasma arcs on my ship?" asked Tam. "Why th'hell would I do that? We gotta go back to Komarr to get the stuff for ya. An' with five barely-charted wormhole jumps to make it'll take at least two weeks to get there, another week to get the weapons—can't just buy those at a department store, y'know! And then another two weeks to get back. Yeah, a month or so."
"I don't have a month!" snarled the Count. "Dorca will have overrun my whole district by then!"
"Well I guess you're up shit creek, then, aren't ya?"
"Tam!" hissed Sheela.
Vorstakof was on his feet and he seemed very tall. "You're lying! You're lying, you bastard!" He walked over to where Tam was slouched in his chair, his fists quivering in fury. Tam seemed to suddenly realize what he'd been saying. His mouth dropped open and he tried to back away from Vorstakof, scrunching down in his chair.
"I… It's the truth! I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do! We didn't bring any weapons with us! Why would we? We didn't expect to find anyone here!"
Vorstakof grabbed Tam by his tunic and hauled him up face to face. "You will get me those weapons! You'll get them for me or you will die!"
"But there's no way! I can't! It… it's not my fault you started your stupid rebellion without asking us first!" Tam tried to pull loose of Vorstakof's grip. "If… if you hurt me you'll never get them! I'm the only one who can pilot our ship!"
The Count let go of Tam, who collapsed back in his chair. Vorstakof glared at him and then slowly turned toward Sheela. "Captain Hodgkins," he said in a voice cold as ice. "I am getting the impression that you don't really believe me when I tell you I am in deadly earnest. Perhaps I shall demonstrate just how serious I am—on your frill here!"
"But… but… but…" gobbled Tam. Sheela tensed.
Vorstakof took a step in her direction.
Sheela drew the stunner out of her boot and shot him.
Vorstakof had an expression of incredulous shock frozen on his face as he hit the floor. The other two men in the room looked just as gobsmacked as Sheela rose and turned the stunner on the armsman by the door. He was clearly well-trained, he had a pistol halfway drawn before the stunner beam hit him, but he wasn't quite quick enough. The third one, Vorjervis, managed to begin a shout before Sheela shot him, too.
She stood there, unsure what to do next, when the door opened. The other armsman. "Milord, I heard…" he began. Then his eyes bugged out and he was clawing for his pistol when Sheela managed to stun him. His forward momentum carried him all the way into the room where he fell, face first, on the floor.
Sheela stood frozen one instant longer and then dashed to the door. She peered out, but there was no one in sight in either direction. She grabbed the second armsman by his belt, hauled him clear of the door and then shut it. She was gasping for breath and her heart was pounding. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!
"What the hell are you doing?" moaned Tam. "Now he's really gonna be pissed!"
"Well then we better not be around when he wakes up! Right?" She glared at him.
"Oh… yeah… right. Let's… let's get out of here." He staggered to his feet.
"Good thinking!" she sneered. "Vorstakof said that Lord Vorkosigan was on the third floor…"
"What?" cried Tam, much too loudly. "You can't be serious! We gotta get out of here!"
"We can't leave the boy here! There's no telling what they'd do to him."
"You're insane!"
"Yeah, and I've also got the stunner and the communicator! So either follow me, or find your way back to the ship on your own!" she said, scooping up the two computer pads and stuffing them in the pockets of her vest. She went to the door and opened it a crack and looked out. The corridor was still deserted. She'd expected to see a swarm of guards. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out. The way they had come, back toward the main part of the house, was still brightly lit and she thought she could hear a murmur of voices in that direction. But the other way… "Maybe there's a back stair," she whispered.
There was.
She dragged Tam out of the room and shut the door and headed for the stairs. They made it up to the second floor with no problem, but as they made the turn to start up to the third they met someone coming down. Sheela fired the stunner without thinking but then was horrified to see that it was just a maid. A maid carrying a tray filled with glasses and bottles…
Sheela managed to grab the woman's arm with her free hand so she didn't tumble down the steps and somehow, somehow Tam caught the tray in mid-flight without breaking a glass. She could almost forgive him everything else for that.
They set down the maid and the tray and then continued up the steps. Tam was whining that they were all going to die. But an incredible recklessness was filling Sheela, an adrenalin high unlike anything she'd ever felt. They reached the third floor.
"Come on, let's find him and get out."
[Scene Break]
"Sooner or later you are going to tell me everything I want to know, boy. Why not save yourself the pain and cooperate?"
Piotr Vorkosigan stared at Lord Vorfallon and swore to himself he wouldn't let the man know just how afraid he was. "W-why should I cooperate with a dead man? My father and the Emperor's troops will be here soon and then you and your master will both hang."
"They won't be here any time soon. Certainly not soon enough to help you if you continue to defy me." Vorfallon stepped next to Piotr and took his arm in a grip like a vise.
"The… the aliens won't like it if you hurt me!" he gasped. "I'm their friend!"
"Oh, there are of plenty of things I can do that won't leave any marks," said Vorfallon in a terrifyingly soft tone of voice. "A dislocated shoulder, for instance. Very painful indeed." He twisted Piotr's arm behind his back and began to apply pressure. The pain was mild at first, but as the pressure increased… he gasped.
"See what I mean? Now, you will tell me everything that happened between the time the aliens landed at Vorkosigan Surleau and when we took the train."
"No!" cried Piotr, trying to pull free. But Vorfallon twisted harder and a cry of pain escaped his lips in spite of all he could do. He was ashamed when tears ran down his cheeks. But then the pain eased off a bit.
"Let's start with something simple, eh? What color was their ship?"
"S-silver!" he gasped. There was no harm in telling that, was there?
"Good! A good start. What did the ship look like?"
"Like a… like a giant lance point…"
"How big was it?"
"I don't know… as long as a railway car maybe. Wider…
"Only that big? Are you sure?" Vorfallon was frowning. "How many people were on board?"
"I don't know! Four came out, but there could have more I didn't see." A lie, he'd seen inside the ship and there were only the four.
"That seems very small for a vessel capable of flying between the stars," said Vorfallon. "I think you are lying to me, boy."
Piotr gasped as the pressure increased again. But he suddenly realized that Vorfallon didn't even know that the vessel at Vorkosigan Surleau was just a shuttle for a larger ship still in space. Was that critical? Should he tell him…?
"Are you lying to me, boy?" The pain grew worse and worse…
But suddenly there was a loud thump outside the door to the room. Vorfallon turned and called out angrily: "I told you we were not to be disturbed!"
Then the door opened and to Piotr's complete astonishment there was Lady Sheela! She had something in her hand… "Let him go!" she said in a voice like iron.
Quick as a snake, Vorfallon pulled Piotr in front of him, shielding himself with his body. "I don't know what you think you are doing here, milady," said Vorfallon. "But you will go back downstairs to the Count at once."
"I don't think so, you bastard," snapped the alien woman. "Sorry, Piotr, I hope this doesn't hurt much." The thing in her hand buzzed softly and Vorfallon suddenly stiffened. A strange tingling hit the left side of Piotr's whole body, like striking your funny bone except all over. Strange sparks floated in front of his eyes and then suddenly he was on the floor.
He tried to stand up, but his left leg and arm didn't want to work. A strong hand gripped him and pulled him up. "It's all right, Piotr, you're all right. It's just a graze by the stunner beam. Come on, we're leaving."
His right leg still worked and he hopped and was half-carried toward the door. Stunner/ Wait, then Vorfallon is still… "Cut… k…" he tried to talk, but half his mouth seemed paralyzed, too. He twisted back toward where Vorfallon was crumpled on the floor. Don't just leave him! Kill him!
But then they were out of the room and into the hallway where the other alien and an unconscious armsman were waiting. Captain Hodgkins took hold of him and they went down the hall and then down a set of steps. "Tam, watch out for the…!" said Lady Sheela urgently, but then there was a horribly loud crash and bottles and glasses were tumbling everywhere.
"Shit!"
"Tam, you idiot!"
"Sorry!"
But they kept going and there didn't seem to be any immediate alarm sounded. They reached the bottom of the steps and there was a door there, a door to the outside, Piotr realized. Lady Sheela eased it open and then her stunner buzzed again and there was a soft thud. "Come on," she whispered.
The feeling was starting to come back to Piotr's arm and leg and he hobbled along as they moved down the side of the building. When he realized they were heading for the road leading away he managed to make his mouth say: "St… stables. H-horses."
The two aliens froze. "Not again," moaned Captain Hodgkins.
"He's right," hissed Lady Sheela. "Ian can't land the shuttle here, we'd be shot to pieces. We need to get some horses and get down to where Arkadi is waiting!"
A shock went through Piotr, not unlike the stunner bolt. "A…kadi!" he gasped.
"Yes, Arkadi is all right," said Lady Sheela. "He's coming for us and we have to go meet him." A warm glow filled him. Arkadi was alive! He'd refused to allow himself to grieve all the way here, but the image of his protector lying inert and blood-covered on the rail car floor had never left him. But he was alive! And coming here! All his fear melted away. Nothing would stop Arkadi! Nothing!
"Let's get those horses," said Lady Sheela.
They started across the compound. There was no cover so they tried to move as casually as possible. Fortunately, both moons had set and it was really very dark. But a light shown from one of the windows in the stable. They peered in and saw two men sitting at a table, playing cards and drinking from tall mugs. Piotr could feel Sheela trembling, but she went through the door and said: "Good evening gentlemen." And then shot both of them.
There were two horses, saddled and ready, for couriers, no doubt. The stun was almost completely worn off now and Piotr told the two aliens to mount the horses while he pulled another out of a stall. "I can ride bare-back. Captain Hodgkins, I'll lead you. Lady Sheela, I know you can ride well enough yourself." The woman looked startled and then absurdly pleased and she nodded.
They walked the horses out of the stables and toward the road. Lady Sheela led the way with her weapon ready. Piotr towed Captain Hodgkins, who was moaning something about everyone getting killed. He had smelled the wine on the man's breath. Was he drunk?
As they neared the point where the road started down the mountain he thought he could see some darker, man-sized shapes. Fortunately the place hadn't been built as a fortress so there was no gate, but there were sentries. Piotr fought the enormous urge to break into a gallop immediately. Slowly, slowly, pretend you belong there and they'll think so, too…
"Hey, who's that?" came a voice. But it was a normal question, not an urgent challenge. Ten seconds or more went by and they were very close now.
"Who's there? Stop!" The voice was much more urgent this time.
"Go!" cried Piotr and he jammed his heels into the horse's flanks. He heard the buzz of lady Sheela's stunner and one of the shapes fell. Then they were past and galloping down the road. There were shouts from behind them and then after several more tense seconds a shot. It was loud, but none of them were hit. Down the road and then to the first switchback. Their mounts' hooves were pounding and the wind was whipping in his hair and Piotr found himself grinning. Free!
More shots now and from up above a horn rang out. Free but not safe.
"Yes!" cried Lady Sheela suddenly. "We've gotten away! Tell Arkadi… what? Okay, patch him through!" She was talking on her communicator! The fools hadn't even taken it away from her! "Arkadi! Where are you? What? We're on horseback coming down from the lodge! What? Yes! All three of us! Piotr's with us!" She stopped talking as they reached the second switchback. She slowed slightly and Piotr, still towing Captain Hodgkins, caught up. She turned her head toward him. "Arkadi's just below that bridge we crossed! He's going to meet us there! But he says there are guards…"
Just then a fusillade of gunfire echoed up from below. A lot of shots fired very rapidly.
"…and he's going to try and clear them out for us."
"No shit," gasped Captain Hodgkins. The man was clinging to his horse for dear life.
Up ahead was the last switchback before the bridge. The firing was louder and he could see the flashes of the guns. "The guards…," cried Piotr. "the guards don't know we escaped. They'll think we're reinforcements! Don't stop! Just go right on across!"
They thundered around the last bend and there was the bridge! Lady Sheela was pulling ahead again, but Piotr had to keep towing the other alien. The fire slackened as the noise of their hooves reached the men ahead. Arkadi was no doubt cautioning his men not to fire and the guards, hopefully assuming the horsemen were on their side, were restraining themselves as well. They reached the bridge and the hooves were incredibly loud on the wooden planks. There was the other side! They were going to make it!
But then there was a shout from behind them and then more shots. Something whizzed past Piotr's ear and then there was a scream from just ahead. A horse's scream. And then Lady Sheela was going down. Her horse had been hit and she flew off it to land on the bridge. Piotr reined in his horse, but then looked in horror as the woman slid between two of the widely-spaced posts holding up the bridge railing. Her lower half went over the side and she scrabbled desperately at the planks.
Piotr brought his horse to a halt. Captain Hodgkin's horse went on past and he leaned over to swat it on the behind. "Go on!" he screamed as he leapt off his own mount. He ran toward Lady Sheela and flung himself forward to grab her arms as she slid backwards. He could hear the roar of the rapids from below and from above came the growing shriek of the aliens' shuttle. "Gotcha!" he cried. Her face was only a foot away from his and even in the dark he could see the whites of her eyes grown wide.
But then her face disappeared and he was dragged forward right to the edge of the bridge. She's twice my size… "Let… let me go!" she gasped.
"No! Arkadi will come and…!"
But Arkadi couldn't get there that fast, no one could. The woman's weight dragged him forward and down. He thrashed his feet around to find some sort of hold, but there was nothing. He slid over the edge and was suddenly falling. He plunged into the icy water. Something hit his head hard and he knew no more.
