The purity plot, p.2
The Purity Plot, page 2
Duke Etienne had long cultivated a reputation for eccentricity. He was likely to cancel the circus's appearances at a moment's notice to play at some other distant planet halfway across the Empire, and yet, the circus was so popular that it was always welcome, no matter how strange were the whims of its manager.
Thus, no one was particularly surprised when the circus abruptly pulled up its stakes from its successful appearance on Dorlan, canceled its last three days' shows, and took off for Glasseye. Dorlan's loss was Glasseye's gain, as far as most of the citizens of either planet ever knew.
Immediately upon landing on Glasseye, while the majority of his people set about their routine tasks of putting the show together, Duke Etienne received a briefing from the planetary chief of SOTE on the situation regarding the kidnappers. Duke Etienne wore a disguise while meeting with the chief, a man named Bergen, so that he could not be positively identified; if Bergen bothered to correlate the arrival of this special agent with the arrival of the circus on Glasseye, he was discreet enough never to mention it to anyone.
The past four and a half days had been ones of strident demands from the terrorist organization and seemingly abject capitulation on the part of the authorities. Only by looking closely could it be seen that the planetary officials had not given anything away, but were merely stalling for time. The rebels demanded that imperial taxes be distributed to impoverished citizens of Glasseye; very well, said the officials, just give us a little time to convert it into cash. The rebels demanded that imperial military installa-
tions be removed from the planet; very well, the officials said, but the movement of so much equipment and personnel required time and involved orders. The rebels demanded that the Empire pay "reparations" for all the harm it had cost Glasseye during the tyranny; very well, the officials said, it will just take a little time to total up the cost.
The rebels demanded, the officials promised. And always the fulfillment of the promise was just a little way over the horizon.
In the meantime, the local arm of SOTE had been doing some work of its own. One member of the terrorist force, who had been hit and left for dead during the attack on the Imperial Trade Tower, had managed to survive, and was taken to a hospital and given the best medical treatment Glasseye's doctors could provide. His name was Peaks and, the instant the doctors pronounced him fit enough, he was placed under intensive interrogation by the local SOTE experts. Using every trick at their disposal short of nitrobarb-which his system would not have been able to stand-they pried from him all the information he knew about where the gang made its headquarters, how many people were stationed there, and what the defensive setup was like. The local Service officers took no action themselves, though; they waited, as they'd been ordered to do, for the arrival of the special force.
Now that the promised reinforcements had arrived, Bergen had a complete breakdown all prepared. The rebels were camped in a largely uninhabited section of the continent, a dense, tropical jungle near a small mountain range. There was only one way into the camp; mountains protected its back and one flank, while a swift-flowing river guarded the other side. The one way in was constantly guarded by foot patrols at irregular intervals. In addition, automatic sensors scanned the area for indications of metal or high energy sources, such as powered blasters. All told, there were better than a hundred people within the camp, and most of them would now be on the alert. They knew SOTE would make some kind of attempt to get the hostage back, and the rebels would be ready.
Peaks had not been back to the camp since the night of the raid, so he had no way of knowing whether any special precautions had been instituted for the situation, nor did he know where the prisoner was being kept. The SOTE strategical officers hazarded a guess that Lord Hok might be in the' central headquarters hut, but nothing could be said for certain. The attack forces would have to find that out for themselves once they'd penetrated their target.
Etienne thanked Bergen for all his help and advice, then returned to the circus for a strategy meeting with his brother Marcel. Between them, these two experienced agents came up with what they hoped was a successful plan to smash the rebel base and get the hostage out alive.
The Phase I attack group consisted of ten people. Eight of them were members of the aerialist team that performed death-defying acrobatics under the big tent several times a day. The ninth was Jean d'Alembert, a cocky-looking man with a black moustache, long sideburns tinged with gray, and a knowing leer on his face. He was the circus's knife thrower, and one of its more outspoken, flamboyant members-but, like all the d'Alemberts, he could be counted on in a fight.
The leader of the team was to be Luise deForrest, Duke Etienne's niece, who had done such a superb job of leading an assault group against Rimskor Castle on Kolokov. Luise was one of the circus's most promising young clowns and was blessed with an agile body and incisive mind. She had her long, black hair tied up in braids for this mission, and, like the others in the group, she wore a dark, forest green jump suit to help her blend in better with the jungle foliage around the rebel camp. She carried a small wicker cage strapped to her back; around her waist was a utility belt which, like the belts on the rest of her party, contained various handy nonmetallic tools. They carried nothing that would attract the attention of the metal detectors scanning the entrance to the camp.
The party was driven in large trucks to the approximate area, as close as they dared take motorized vehicles without risking discovery. They were still a good seven kilometers from the camp's reported position.
There they got out of the trucks and mounted a group of trained marponies. These were equine animals from the planet Zachari, smaller, faster, smarter and less temperamental than horses. The dense underbrush hampered the marponies' movements considerably, but they still made good time and carried their riders to a spot less than a kilometer from the terrorist base in half an hour. The d'Alemberts tied and muzzled their mounts and continued the rest of the way on their own.
Traveling along the ground would be dangerous here. According to Peaks' information, this area was patrolled at irregular intervals, making it impossible to be sure of escaping detection. The whole point of this mission was utter secrecy; if so much as a single warning of their existence were to reach the terrorists, Lord Hok's life would be forfeit.
Therefore, the d'Alemberts scorned the ground and took instead to the treetops. In the dim, late-evening light they scrambled from tree to tree with an agility that would have put monkeys to shame. The density of the jungle was now an asset, because it assured them of adequate holds for getting between the trees. Only on two occasions was there any gap not bridged sufficiently by tree branches; in those cases, ropes were thrown across the gulf and used as high wires. Not once during the passage did a d'Alembert foot touch the ground.
Luise and Jean were less adept at tree-walking than were the other eight, and they slowed the party down a bit. Speed was not the absolute requirement in this mission, however; stealth counted more heavily. The specialized talents of the two would be useful later, and their more agile relatives tolerated their comparative clumsiness.
Three times, guard patrols of two to five people passed beneath their position. During those moments, the d'Alemberts held perfectly still, waiting for the patrols to move on. They could easily have overpowered the guards if they'd chosen, but Luise decided against that course of action. If even one guard should escape, of merely cry out in alarm, the whole mission would be a failure. Similarly, if any of the patrols were missed by their comrades, the d'Alemberts' job would become much harder. It was better to show restraint now than to regret it later.
After an hour's careful treetop march, they came to the small clearing where the enemy's camp was located. Crude, wooden huts had been set up as living quarters for most of the rebels, with one large shack in the central area serving as their planning headquarters. In addition, three large caves had been dug into the sides of the mountains against which the camp was built. These caves, according to Peaks, were used mainly for storing supplies, to keep them dry from the periodic heavy rains.
Luise had a choice. The local SOTE chief thought it most probable that Lord Hok was being kept in the central headquarters building, but Luise could not completely rule out the possibility that the young nobleman was being housed in one of the caves, which would be more easily guarded. There were two people stationed in front of each of the caves, while six surrounded the headquarters building. There was no easy way to make the choice.
After a moment's consideration Luise decided to investigate the caves first because they would, in some ways, be the easiest to check. She whispered her plans to her colleagues, and the group moved around the perimeter of the camp through the trees, to the point closest to the cave entrances.
At this point, the mission's success rested with Jean d'Alembert. As the knife thrower, he was the only one of the group to bring along any large supply of weapons. A few of the knives he had were plastic, but most were hastily improvised wooden ones. They were all, however, extremely sharp.
His task would not be an easy one. He had six targets, six guards at the cave entrances. The nearest were five meters away, the furthest almost twenty-five. He had to put each one out of commission without allowing any of them to make a noise-which meant a knife to the throat of each one, in rapid succession. It was now early evening, with only the light from various campfires to illuminate his targets. The knives he would be throwing were not the ones he was used to, and the balance would be a little different. All these were factors he had to allow for.
If Jean d'Alembert was nervous, he did not show it. He was a natural-born grandstander, and he was used to having lives riding on the accuracy of his aim: the target models in his act were his own wife, Bernadette, and his children Jacques and Marie. He was not accustomed to missing.
He was now the picture of concentration as he crouched on the tree branch, looking down on the peaceful scene in the camp. One knife was in his right hand, five more held in readiness in his left. With a seemingly effortless flick of his wrist, he released the blade toward its target and, as part of the same motion, he flipped another blade from his left to his right hand, ready to throw again. One after another, the knives flashed out from the trees, a smooth operation performed with machine precision. In a matter of five seconds, all six guards lay dead, without a sound to mark their passing but the gentle whoosh of Jean d'Alembert's knives slicing air.
With the sentries out of the way, Luise dropped to the ground, followed by the rest of her group. They approached the first cave cautiously. Jean retrieved his knives from the two sentries who'd been keeping watch here, then led the way inside. Luise was barely half a step behind him. Four of the aerialists accompanied them, while the other four stood guard outside in case of trouble.
There were three more of the rebels sitting around a fire inside the cave, but they barely had time to look up and see the approaching force before the d'Alemberts were upon them. Jean finished two of them off with quick flicks of his knives; Luise got the third by wrapping a cord around his neck and twisting it, garrote fashion. The rest of the cave merely held crates of provisions for the hundred-person camp. With a shrug, Luise led her team outside to try again.
The other two caves proved to be virtual repeats of the first-a couple of people stationed inside each guarding supplies of various sorts, but no sign of Lord Hok. The initial estimate, then, was probably right. Luise led her team back outside and up into the trees once more. They would try their next attack against the headquarters building.
This time speed was a vital factor. It was only a matter of time before the dead cave sentries were discovered, and then the general alarm would be raised. There could be no wasted motions now; Lord Hok must be found and freed immediately.
There were six men stationed around the headquarters shack, some on the opposite side of the building, thus making it impossible for even Jean to get all of them. The rest of the assault team, having waited patiently while their relatives stole the show, now had their own chance to get into the act. While Jean eliminated the nearest two guards with his knives, the gymnastic team was flying through the air with a precision that had made them all famous throughout the galaxy. They landed lightly on their feet and continued their motion toward their preassigned targets. They outnumbered the remaining guards two to one, which, for d'Alemberts, were laughable odds. They took the sentries out easily, and again, they were so efficient that there was no sound to alert the camp. Luise took a deep breath. It had been easy, so far; from this point on, things would move a lot faster.
Knife in hand, she walked boldly up to the door and knocked. "Who's there?" a voice asked from inside. Luise spoke in a low tone, slurring her words so the person inside could not understand her. "Just a minute," the voice said.
Luise could hear the rasping sound of the lock, and a moment later the door swung inward just a crack. That was enough for her. She pushed forward against the door, shoving it completely open. The man who'd opened it was pushed backward, a startled expression on his face. The expression was frozen there permanently as Luise's knife came up under his ribs and he fell, dead, to the floor.
Behind her, Jean also rushed in, knives in hand. As he gave a quick glance around the room and sized up the situation, his blades flashed through the air, and three more of the terrorists lay dead on the floor. And still there had not been enough noise to arouse the concern of anyone in the adjacent rooms.
They could not expect their luck to hold much longer. Taking this building room by room would be an arduous and risky project; instead, they would split up and try to hit the entire building simultaneously.
This entry room opened into a hallway that ran the length of the building, with five other rooms further down. The rest of her team entered the shack and, at her whispered command, glided softly down the corridor. When they were all in position, two to each door, Luise signaled and they burst into their target rooms.
The action was short and silent. Once more, surprise had worked in their favor, and they were able to finish off their opponents without any harm to themselves. Lord Hok was found tied to a chair in the third room down. He'd been badly beaten and drugged, but he was alive and had apparently suffered no permanent damage.
Had she the time, Luise would have let out a great sigh of relief. But Lord Hok was in no condition to go swinging through the treetops with them, and they couldn't risk carrying him. Fortunately, Duke Etienne's plans had allowed for such a contingency; rather than going out the way they had come in, Luise inaugurated Phase II of the battle plan.
From the tiny wicker cage strapped to her back, Luise took a small, white bird with red speckles. She walked to a window, opened it, and tossed the bird out into the night. The bird, a sporinger, flapped its wings in confusion a couple of times, stretching and exercising them after its long confinement. Then, testing its newfound freedom, it soared upward into the darkened sky. Within seconds it was gone from Luise's view, but she could imagine it with wings outstretched, floating on a convenient updraft, spiraling above the camp in ever-widening circles. The sporinger's keen nose would be sniffing the air, searching for some scent of its mate. Sporingers were animals that mated for life, and their sense of smell was so acute that they were able to detect their mates at distances of up to fifteen kilometers. Once this sporinger caught wind of its mate, which was back with the rest of the d'Alembert assault team, it would fly directly there, signaling to the others a beginning for Phase II.
With the sporinger gone, there was nothing left for the primary team to do but wait. Luise assigned four of her relatives to stay with Lord Hok, guarding him against any intrusion, while she and the rest of the team spread out through the building, in case of trouble.
Five minutes passed, then five more. Outside, the camp was still miraculously quiet. She could hear the sounds of laughter and arguments in the barracks a few dozen meters away, and the occasional voices of people calling to one another across the compound. The d'Alembert luck held; no one had yet discovered the bodies of the guards the family had killed on their way in.
Then, however, a new sound began to make itself known, like a sudden, strong wind springing up from nowhere. From far away, it suddenly hit the camp like a hurricane, rattling the ramshackle buildings and scattering small, loose objects around the clearing. The sky, which had been clear, suddenly darkened as an enormous shape blotted out the stars. Then it seemed as though a three-story building landed on the camp.
In actuality, it was a rock. The name of the giant, mythical Arabian bird had been given to these creatures from the planet Bahrein, and it was certainly a title well deserved. The roc were the largest flying animals ever discovered in the galaxy, averaging ten meters long with a wingspan of nearly sixty. They were covered with a tough, bluish skin, and possessed four sets of talons and a sharp, rending beak that could tear apart something the size of a rhinoceros without difficulty. They were surprisingly lightweight for their size-only four hundred and fifty kilos-but had been known to carry off prey that was more than half their own weight.
Rocs were rarely seen in captivity. There were only fifty-seven scattered throughout the major zoos in the Empire. The circus had only acquired this specimen two years ago, after many years of bargaining with the Duke of Bahrein. It had gone immediately into the care of the circus's prime animal trainer, the petite-for a DesPlainian-Jeanne d'Alembert. The frail-looking -eighteen-year-old Jeanne was totally dwarfed by her charge. Yet, her aura of calm and her psychic attunement to animals of all sorts was such that she had slowly worked even this monstrous creature under her spell. While it was not yet domesticated enough to make it part of the show, it was quite able to understand Jeanne's simple commands to fly to a given place and take off again. That was really all they needed in this situation.
