Miles Errant - Lois McMaster Bujold [118]
"It's not up to me. He gave us our orders and left. He's not here."
"Call him."
"He didn't tell me where he would be." The guard's voice was tight and irritated. "And if he had, I wouldn't anyway. Stand over there by that lightflyer."
"How are you going to do it?" asked Miles suddenly. "I really am curious to know. Think of it as my last request." He sidled over toward the lightflyer, his eyes shifting in search of cover, any cover. If he could vault over or dodge around the vehicle before they fired . . .
"Stun you, fly you out over the south coast, drop you in the water," the guard recited. "If the weights work loose and you wash ashore, the autopsy would show only that you'd drowned."
"Not exactly a hands-on murder," Miles observed. "Easier for you that way, I expect." These men were not professional killers, if Miles read them right. Still, there was a first time for everything. That pillar over there was not wide enough to stop a stun bolt. The array of tools on the far wall presented possibilities . . . his legs were cramping furiously. . . .
"And so the Butcher of Komarr gets his at last," the solemn guard observed in a detached voice. "Indirectly." He raised his stunner.
"Wait!" squeaked Miles.
"What for?"
Miles was still groping for a reply when the garage doors slid open.
"Me!" yelled Elli Quinn. "Freeze!"
A Dendarii patrol streamed past her. In the instant it took the Komarran guard to shift his aim, a Dendarii marksman dropped him. The second guard panicked and bolted for the lift tube. A sprinting Dendarii tackled him from behind, and had him laid out face down on the floor with his hands locked behind him within seconds.
Elli strolled up to Miles and Galeni, pulling a sonic eavesdropper-sensor from her ear. "Gods, Miles, I couldn't believe it was your voice. How did you do that?" As she took in his appearance, an expression of extreme disquiet stole over her face.
Miles captured her hands and kissed them. A salute might have been more proper, but his adrenaline was still pumping and this was more heartfelt. Besides, he wasn't in uniform. "Elli, you genius! I should have known the clone couldn't fool you!"
She stared at him, almost recoiling, her voice circling upward in pitch. "What clone?"
"What do you mean, what clone? That's why you're here, isn't it? He blew it—and you came to rescue me—didn't you?"
"Rescue you from what? Miles, you ordered me a week ago to find Captain Galeni, remember?"
"Oh," said Miles. "Yes. So I did."
"So we did. We've been sitting outside this block of housing units all night, waiting to pick up a positive voiceprint analysis on him, so we could notify the local authorities. They don't appreciate false alarms. But what finally came over the sensors suggested we'd better not wait for the local authorities, so we took a chance—visions of us being arrested en masse for breaking and entering dancing in my head—"
A Dendarii sergeant drifted up and saluted. "Damn, sir, how'd you do that?" He trotted on waving a scanner without waiting for reply.
"Only to find you'd beaten us to it."
"Well, in a sense, yes . . ." Miles massaged his throbbing forehead. Galeni stood scratching his beard and taking it all in without comment. Galeni could say nothing at noticeable volume.
"Remember, three or four nights ago when you took me to be kidnapped so's I could penetrate the opposition and find out who they were and what they wanted?"
"Yeah . . ."
"Well," Miles took a deep breath, "it worked. Congratulations. You have just converted an absolute disaster into a major intelligence coup. Thank you, Commander Quinn. By the way, the guy you walked out of that empty house with—wasn't me."
Elli's eyes widened; her hand went to her mouth. Then the dark glints narrowed in furious thought. "Sonofabitch," she breathed. "But Miles—I thought the clone story was something you'd made up!"
"So did I. It's thrown everyone off, I expect."
"Then he was—he is—a real clone?"
"So he claims. Fingerprints—retina—voiceprint