The Blackcollar

CHAPTER 24

The first thing Jensen noticed on his long climb back to consciousness was the pain.

Not the aches in his arms or chest, the results of the crash and the battle preceding it; those were fairly easy to control. The real pain came from the front of his skull, as if a giant had been resting his thumbs on the blackcollar's eyes. It wasn't an unknown feeling, and even before he was fully awake he knew what they'd tried to do.

The room was likewise no surprise. Small, drab, and solid-looking, it would have been recognizable as an interrogation cell anywhere in the TDE. His naked body was strapped into an unpadded chair, his arms held out, crucifix-fashion, for easy access to veins. Wires and tubes dangled from various parts of his body, and two men in Security uniforms stood facing him. "He's awake," murmured an unexpected voice. With an effort, Jensen focused on their faces.

"Why, Prefect Galway," he croaked hoarsely. Forcing moisture into his mouth, he tried again, with better results. "What brings you to Argent?"

Galway gazed at him coolly, "Hello, Jensen. How much would you like to live?"

Jensen grinned, even though that made the throbbing pain worse. "Not that much, thanks. The verifin didn't work, I take it?"

Galway's expression didn't change, but that of the man beside him darkened considerably. Jensen nodded to him. "I didn't catch the name."

"Security Prefect Apostoleris," the other bit out. "And I'd watch my mouth if I were you. I am this close to wiping the whole bunch of you off the planet and to hell with my losses."

A rather strong reaction, Jensen thought. Looking back at Galway, he asked, "What's Lathe done now?"

Galway glanced at Apostoleris, who waved his hand impatiently. "He dosed two of his men with Idunine—O'Hara and Haven, we think—and sent them to Cerbe Prison with a Radix team leader. They took over weapons control and flew two transports of Star Force vets out before anyone knew what was happening."

"Interesting," Jensen murmured.

"Yes, interesting," Apostoleris mimicked. "And not the sort of thing you pull off just for fun. What do those men know that's that important to you?"

Jensen shrugged, not an easy task with the restraints on him.

"Look, Jensen," Galway put in, "I don't think you appreciate the lengths the prefect's prepared to go to. There are drugs available that would wear you down physically, there are things like extended isolation-tank treatment, and there's always straight physical torture. Psychor pain-block techniques may be good, but I doubt they'd hold up under a slow dismembering of your body."

"Perhaps." The calmness Jensen forced into his voice was a waste of effort—they undoubtedly knew how blackcollars viewed death under a torturer's knife. "Of course, torture takes a great deal of time."

"Are you implying your mission's almost completed?" Apostoleris countered smoothly.

"Not necessarily. I might simply be rescued before you're finished." It was a safe suggestion to make—Lathe wouldn't risk anyone at this stage on something that quixotic. But Apostoleris wouldn't know that, and any extra men Jensen could tie up on guard duty would be that many fewer for the others to contend with.

"Of course," Apostoleris said, "though I wouldn't count on that if I were you. So. Contacting the starmen is likely one of the final steps. Interesting. You're not planning to steal some ships and head off to join the Chryselli, are you? That would be extremely difficult—the Ryqril here won't be taken by surprise like the ones on Plinry were, and you don't have that mob of half-trained children to hide behind. And even if you made it, what then? It's not like the Chryselli are trustworthy allies. They turned their hairy backs on us once before, you know, back when General Lepkowski went to Meelach to ask for help."

Jensen said nothing. Apostoleris's shots were hitting uncomfortably close to the mark.

The prefect interpreted his silence correctly. "So," he almost purred. "We're not so cocky now, are we. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking?"

"Talk all you like. And don't expect to get anything of value from me."

"We'll see." Apostoleris glanced upwards. "Prepare number one," he called to some unseen ear.

"Not wasting any time, are you?" Jensen said as calmly as possible. "Not even going to give me the traditional hour to consider how much this is going to hurt?"

"As you said, we're short on time," the prefect said icily. "We'll start with the non-destructive forms at first, in case you decide to be reasonable. After that... well, there are some very painful things that can be done directly to the nervous system. Those have permanent effects, of course." He paused. "Anything you'd like to say before we begin?"

"How about 'go to hell'?"

Apostoleris shrugged. "When you change your mind, just shout. If you still can."

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the door behind them. Galway lingered just long enough to lock eyes with the blackcollar; then he, too, was gone and the door was slammed shut. Its reverberations were still audible when the lights went out, plunging Jensen into total darkness.

Blindness—standard psychological gambit, he thought grimly, even as his deeper mental processes began to trace the familiar pain-block pattern. Like nakedness. Depressants to civilized man. But he could handle anything they could throw at him, at least long enough for Lathe to finish the mission. After that—

But it was no use thinking that far ahead. Right now the only goal in the universe was to survive the first battle.

Without warning, a heavy electric shock ran up his left side. Gritting his teeth firmly to avoid biting his tongue, Jensen settled himself for the long fight ahead.

"A frontal assault is out of the question," Dael Valentine said as he eased the car up to a stoplight. "The building's got doubled guard stations inside the main door, antipersonnel defenses in the courtyard, and detection gear in the outer wall. We'd be cut to ribbons before we even got in. Surely your little reconnoiter showed you that much."

"What do you suggest, then?" Novak said quietly, and Skyler shifted uneasily in the back seat as he thought of the simmering volcano beneath that veneer of self-control.

"A soft penetration," Valentine said. "Lathe and O'Hara have already shown what an ID or ID code can do. Loyalty-conditioned minds just aren't flexible; you give them what they expect to see and they'll probably let you in."

"Fine," Skyler said, a bit tartly. "And how do we go about getting IDs? Caine's trick isn't likely to be practical here."

"True—but they can't be doing a complete computer check on everyone who enters. If we have IDs that accurately show our thumbprints and retinal patterns it'll probably do the trick."

Skyler frowned, considering. It was an interesting point. Unlike the setup in Calarand, all of Millaire's governmental functions were located in the same ten-story building. In their two-hour walking survey of the area, he and Novak had seen an astonishing variety of people passing in and out of the main gate, from obvious collie types to ordinary citizens—the latter, they'd noted, getting an armed escort across the courtyard. It might be barely possible. "If we had IDs, maybe."

"Good—because we can get them." Valentine made a left turn, sending them back toward Millaire's business district. "I wasn't just collecting gossip while you were out walking around. I also made contact with what's left of organized Radix here."

"And?" Novak prompted.

"And, there's an ID forger still loose."

Skyler hunched forward to get a better view of Valentine's face. "How good are these forgeries?" he asked.

"Just this side of perfect."

"But if there's nothing in the computer, why—?" Novak broke off his question as Skyler gently tapped tingler code onto the back of his neck.

"Why did I suggest it?" Valentine asked irritably. "I told you that—they won't be checking everyone that closely."

"It might work," Skyler said, thinking fast. "Any chance of getting some explosives, too?"

Valentine glanced back at him. "What do you want explosives for?"

"Diversion. We could set off some explosions in the area, draw as many Security men as possible outside the wall to investigate. If we then blasted a hole in the wall, they'd presumably assume the place was being attacked and rush back in, with or without quick ID checks—and we'd go in with them."

"Yeah... that might work," Valentine said after a short pause. "When do we hit—nightfall?"

"Or a few hours later," Skyler said. "Let's find this forger and the explosives before we decide that. The explosives first," he added. "If the forger's place is being watched we'll want something to fight our way out with."

"You're the boss," Valentine agreed, turning right at the next corner. "I know who to talk to; we can be there in five minutes."

Skyler settled back in the seat and threw a look upwards. The rain of the night before had ended, but dark clouds still blanketed the sky. Skyler hoped they would stay put; a heavy cloud cover would hasten the darkness and let them make their attempt a little earlier. Even so, it would be at least six hours before they could go in.

He hoped Jensen could hold on that long.