Borders of Infinity

No immediate answer; no glowing gold eyes flashing in the forest of pillars. He was reluctant to shout. He slapped down the rungs and began a silent fast trot through the chamber, the cold stone draining the heat through his socks and making him long for his lost boots.

He came upon her sitting silently at the base of a pillar, her head turned sideways resting on her knees. Her face was pensive, sad. Really, it didn't take long at all to begin reading the subtleties of feeling in her wolfish features.

'Time to march, soldier girl,' Miles said.

Her head lifted. 'You came back!'

'What did you think I was going to do? Of course I came back. You're my recruit, aren't you?'

She scrubbed her face with the back of a big paw—hand, Miles corrected himself severely—and stood up, and up. 'Guess I must be.' Her outslung mouth smiled slightly. If you didn't have a clue what the expression was, it could look quite alarming.

'I've got a hatch open. We've got to try to get out of this main building, back to the utility bay. I saw several vehicles parked there earlier. What's a little theft, after—'

With a sudden whine, the outside vehicle entrance, downslope to their right, began to slide upward. A rush of cold dry air swept through the dankness, and a thin shaft of yellow dawn light made the shadows blue. They shielded their eyes in the unexpected glare. Out of the bright squinting haze coalesced half-a-dozen red-clad forms, double-timing it, weapons at the ready.

Taura's hand was tight on Miles's. Run, he started to cry, and bit back the shout; no way could they outrun a nerve disrupter beam, a weapon which at least two of the guards now carried. Miles's breath hissed out through his teeth. He was too infuriated even to swear. They'd been so close. . . .

Security Chief Moglia sauntered up. 'What, still in one piece, Naismith?' he smirked unpleasantly. 'Nine must have finally realized it's time to start cooperating, eh, Nine?'

Miles squeezed her hand hard, hoping the message would be properly understood as, Wait.

She lifted her chin. 'Guess so,' she said coldly.

'It's about time,' said Moglia. 'Be a good girl, and we'll take you upstairs and feed you breakfast after this.'

Good, Miles's hand signalled. She was watching him closely for cues, now.

Moglia prodded Miles with his truncheon. 'Time to go, dwarf. Your friends have actually made ransom. Surprised me.'

Miles was surprised himself. He moved toward the exit, still towing Taura. He didn't look at her, did as little as possible to draw unwanted attention to their, er, togetherness, while still maintaining it. He let go of her hand as soon as their momentum was established.

What the hell . . . Miles thought as they emerged into the blinking dawn, up the ramp and onto a circle of tarmac slick with glittering rime. A most peculiar tableau was arranged there.

Bel Thorne and one Dendarii trooper, armed with stunners, shifted uneasily—not prisoners? Half a dozen armed men in the green uniform of House Fell stood at the ready. A float truck emblazoned with Fell's logo was parked at the tarmac's edge. And Nicol the quaddie, wrapped in white fur against the frost, hovered in her float chair at the stunner-point of a big green-clad guard. The light was grey and gold and chilly as the sun, lifting over the dark mountains in the distance, broke through the clouds.

'Is that the man you want?' the green-uniformed guard captain asked Bel Thorne.

'That's him.' Thorne's face was white with an odd mixture of relief and distress. 'Admiral, are you all right?' Thorne called urgently. Its eyes widened, taking in Miles's tall companion. 'What the hell's that?'

'She is recruit-trainee Taura,' Miles said firmly, hoping 1) Bel would unravel the several meanings packed in that sentence and 2) Ryoval's guards wouldn't. Bel looked stunned, so evidently Miles had got at least partly through; Security Chief Moglia looked suspicious, but baffled. Miles was clearly a problem Moglia thought he was about to get rid of, however, and he thrust his bafflement aside to deal with the more important person of Fell's guard captain.

'What is this?' Miles hissed at Bel, sidling closer until a red-clad guard lifted his nerve disrupter and shook his head. Moglia and Fell's captain were exchanging electronic data on a report panel, heads bent together, evidently the official documentation.

'When we lost you last night, I was in a panic,' Bel pitched its voice low toward Miles. 'A frontal assault was out of the question. So I ran to Baron Fell to ask for help. But the help I got wasn't quite what I expected. Fell and Ryoval cooked up a deal between them to exchange Nicol for you. I swear, I only found out the details an hour ago!' Bel protested at Nicol's thin-lipped glower in its direction.

'I … see.' Miles paused. 'Are we planning to refund her dollar?'

'Sir,' Bel's voice was anguished, 'we had no idea what was happening to you in there. We were expecting Ryoval to start beaming up a holocast of obscene and ingenious tortures, starring you, at any minute. Like Commodore Tung says, on hemmed-in ground, use subterfuge.'

Miles recognized one of Tung's favorite Sun Tzu aphorisms. On bad days Tung had a habit of quoting the 4000-year-dead general in the original Chinese; when Tung was feeling benign they got a translation. Miles glanced around, adding up weapons, men, equipment. Most of the green guards carried stunners. Thirteen to … three? Four? He glanced at Nicol. Maybe five? On desperate ground, Sun Tzu advised, fight. Could it get much more desperate than this?

'Ah . . .' said Miles. 'Just what the devil did we offer Baron Fell in exchange for this extraordinary charity? Or is he doing it out of the goodness of his heart?'

Bel shot him an exasperated look, then cleared its throat. 'I promised you'd tell him the real truth about the Betan rejuvenation treatment.'

'Bel …'

Thorne shrugged unhappily. 'I thought, once we'd got you back, we'd figure something out. But I never thought he'd offer Nicol to Ryoval, I swear!'

Down in the long valley, Miles could see a bead moving on the thin gleam of monorail. The morning shift of bioengineers and technicians, janitors and office clerks and cafeteria cooks, was due to arrive soon. Miles glanced at the white building looming above, pictured the scene to come in that third floor lab as the guards deactivated the alarms and let them in to work, as the first one through the door sniffed and wrinkled his nose and said plaintively, 'What's that awful smell?'

'Has 'Medtech Vaughn' signed aboard the Ariel yet?' Miles asked.

'Within the hour.'

'Yeah, well … it turns out we didn't need to kill his fatted calf after all. It comes with the package.' Miles nodded toward Taura.

Bel lowered its voice still further. 'That's coming with us?'

'You'd better believe it. Vaughn didn't tell us everything. To put it mildly. I'll explain later,' Miles added as the two guard captains broke up their tete-a-tete. Moglia swung his truncheon jauntily, heading toward Miles. 'Meantime, you made a slight miscalculation. This isn't hemmed-in ground. This is desperate ground. Nicol, I want you to know, the Dendarii don't give refunds.'

Nicol frowned in bewilderment. Bel's eyes widened, as it checked out the odds—calculating them thirteen to three, Miles could tell.

'Truly?' Bel choked. A subtle hand signal, down by its trouser seam, brought the trooper to full alert.

'Truly desperate,' Miles reiterated. He inhaled deeply. 'Now! Taura, attack!'

Miles launched himself toward Moglia, not so much actually expecting to wrestle his truncheon from him as hoping to maneuver Moglia's body between himself and the fellows with the nerve disruptors. The Dendarii trooper,