Quest for the Well of Souls - Jack L. Chalker [27]
The Parmiter sniggered. "Yeah? Maybe so, but did you see those launchers on the front and back? They're rocket launchers. And they shoot neat fragmentation bombs. They come down, hit something—like a ship's deck—and go bam in all directions, blow a hole a kilometer wide."
"What good's that here?" Grune asked. "This is a nontech hex. You know that."
"Idiot!" snapped the Parmiter. "So the launchers are spring-loaded, see? With a boost from a fuse and gunpowder charge underneath. They blow up by chemical action triggered by the shock. No power supply, see? They work here, and they'll blow a hole we can sail through in that damned packet."
"Oh," said Grune.
* * *
The Yaxa drifted across the shoreline, its strange eyes searching the ground. It had been a difficult journey; almost twenty days' worth. Now it was over; now the Yaxa had reached its goal. True, there would be some journeying back, but not as much. It needed only to make a Zone Gate it could use without attracting undue attention. Its prize was destined for Zone, for the Yaxa embassy.
It had been a hard and grueling flight over territory not very friendly or hospitable; she knew that her superiors had been against her going because she was so involved in the forthcoming expedition. But she had insisted and had managed to communicate through friendly Zone Gates to assure her compatriots that all was well.
But, in the end, this had been her part of the project from the beginnings—the long-ago beginnings, when the wars were fought. As the only Entry in Yaxa history from a "human" world, she had special qualifications. The others didn't understand human nature, no matter what its forms. She did, in all of its variations.
To her sisters' credit, they recognized her unique capability and had given her the prized task. Her loyalty was unquestioned, her dedication unmatched. Through her influence and authority, she had kept them from sending out a squad or commissioning a gang to kill Mavra Chang. Not Trelig—no, they'd tried to get at him ten times or more, but that slippery frog was always too smart for them.
She'd told them that Chang was loyal to no side but her own, which was true, and that the strange woman was valuable as an alternative to Yulin, just in case. They had accepted what she said. To some extent, it had been the truth. But she had other reasons, ones they, perhaps, would never understand, but ones that Mavra probably would in time.
Now as she circled the compound, she saw immediately that something was wrong. The front wall had been smashed by something huge and powerful, and there had been a fire afterward. Part of the compound was in ruins, and a storage area behind stood open and empty. She felt momentary panic. Robbers? Pirates? Was she, then, too late?
But, no, as she studied further she saw Ambreza and signs of a frantic search through the area.
Dead? Or—?
She swung out to sea, to avoid Ambreza eyes and to think, gliding lazily on updrafts high above the whitecapped, blue-green waters.
She couldn't believe Mavra Chang was dead, wouldn't allow herself to believe that—not until she saw the body, or the grave. Not after all this, oh, no.
But—if not dead, then what? If pirates did hit the place, and she got away . . . where would she go? To the Ambreza? No. The Ambreza below looked too much like search parties, even the one out in a small boat.
Not south to Ambreza, nor north to deadly Ginzin, either. By water, then?
But that would mean—kidnapped?
Who would want to kidnap Mavra Chang except her, the Yaxa wondered? Not Ortega, certainly. He had her. Then—
Antor Trelig.
It had to be, she decided. Maybe to make a deal with Ortega, since Trelig was the only player in the game still without his own access to the North. If that were so, he'd hardly take her to Zone. The Makiem didn't have the defenses of a Yaxa, and he could hardly be expected to shield her presence for long from Ortega.
They would have come by ship, she decided.