"You sound like one of my guards," Jonny murmured. "He the one who told you about me?"
Danice glanced at him in obvious surprise. "You're as quick as I always remembered you being. Yes, he's one of the handful of quiet liaisons between the military and the UDN, though I don't think his immediate superiors know. He's the one who put word of your arrest on our communications net."
"And convinced all of you I was worth defying the authorities over?"
She smiled bitterly. "Nothing of the kind. Everyone helping us thinks this is just another training exercise. Rescuing Prisoner From Under Enemy's Nose 101; final exam."
"Except you." The question was obvious; he didn't bother to voice it.
"I was just a kid in the last war, Jonny," she said quietly, "but I remember enough about it to haunt two or three lifetimes. I don't want to go through it again... but if the Dominion goes to war I'll have to."
"Maybe not—" Jonny began cautiously.
"What do you mean, 'maybe not'?" she flared. "You think they're going to all this trouble for the fun of it? They know Adirondack's going to be a major Troft target, and they've as good as admitted they won't be able to defend us. The plain, simple truth is that they're writing our world off and preparing us to sink or swim on our own. And for nothing."
She broke off and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jonny. I'm sure Aventine means a lot to you. But I just can't see sacrificing Adirondack and maybe Silvern and Iberiand too in what amounts to a war of retribution."
"No need to apologize," he assured her. "No world should have to fight for its life twice in one generation."
Danice shook her head wearily. "You don't know the half of it. The social upheaval alone... There were a lot of books written about us after the war, you know, books that listed a lot of the underground people by name. Well, the Joint Command decided those people's lives might be in danger when the Trofts came in again, so five years ago they took everybody mentioned in any of the books and gave them new identities somewhere else on the planet. I was just barely able to find my own parents, and they still don't know where half of their oldest friends are."
Ahead, Jonny could see the starfield's control tower silhouetted against the last traces of red in the southwestern sky. "This pilot you've picked out also thinks this is a training exercise?"
"Theoretically. But Don is pretty smart—he may have figured out something else is up. Anyway, you'll have several days to discuss it." She favored him with a thoughtful look. "You really don't like this business of trusting other people with your life, do you? I suppose the habits of being a Cobra die hard."
"Not as hard as you'd think," Jonny shook his head. "You're remembering me with the eyes of a ten-year-old. Even then, I wasn't really any less dependent on other people than you are now."
Which was not, of course, an answer to her question. He didn't like depending on others, especially with so much at stake.
But it was something he could get used to.
"Committé Vanis D'arl's office," the bored face in the phone screen announced.
"Jame Moreau," Jonny told her, watching her closely. If she gave even the slightest indication she recognized him...
"Who's calling, please?" she asked.
"Teague Stillman—I used to be mayor of his home town. Tell him it's important."
Jonny held his breath; but, "Just a minute, please," was all she said before her face was replaced by a stylized dome. The local "hold" symbol, Jonny supposed, automatically starting his nanocomputer clock circuit. He'd give Jame two minutes to answer before assuming the woman had called the cops instead and getting the hell out of the area—
"Hello, Jonny."
Jonny wrenched his gaze back from its survey of possible escape routes. If Jame was surprised to see him, it didn't show. "Hi, Jame," he said cautiously. "Uh..."
"The line's secure," his brother said. "You all right?"
"I'm fine, but I need your help. I have to—"
"Yeah, I know all about it. Damn it all, Jonny—look, where are you?"
Jonny felt icy fingers closing around his gut. "Why?"
"Why do you think?" Jame waved a hand in irritation. "Never mind—do it your own way. My neck's stuck far enough out as it is."
Jonny gritted his teeth. "I'm at a public phone on V'awter Street, just north of Carle Park."
Jame sighed. "All right. I'll be there in half an hour or less to get you. And stay put this time—understand?"
"Okay. And—thanks."
Some of the steel seemed to go out of Jame's backbone, and a small, guarded smile even touched his face. "Yeah. See you soon."
He was there in twenty minutes flat, and even with Jonny's lack of familiarity with current styles, it was obvious the younger Moreau's car was a top-of-the-line model. "Nice," Jonny nodded as he got in beside Jame and sank into the rich cushioning. "A step or two up from Dader's old limper."
"It won't stay that way long if anyone spots us," Jame replied tartly as he pulled into the traffic flow. "We're just lucky the alert on you was limited to the military and not made public. What did you think you were up to, anyway, breaking confinement like that?"
"What did you expect—that I'd just sit there in Wrey's private limbo while the pompous idiot got a war going?"
"Granted Wrey's a self-centered grudge-holder, credit him with at least the intelligence to guard his own skin," Jame growled. "He wouldn't have left you there more than two days at the most—and he'd arranged for a Star Force scoutship to bring you here after you'd been cleared. With the extra speed scouts can make, you'd have been here four days ago—barely a day, if that, behind Wrey."
Jonny's hands curled into fists. Could he really have misread Wrey that badly? "Damn," he murmured.
Jame sighed. "So instead of being brought before the Committee to have your say, you're right up there on the military's must-find list. I don't think even Wrey really believed his innuendo about you making a private deal with the Trofts, but the ease with which your friends got you loose has a lot of people very nervous. How'd you organize all that, anyway?"
"I didn't." Jonny sighed. "Okay. I admit I crusked up good. But it doesn't change the fact that the Committee needs to hear what I've brought."
Jame shook his head. "Not a chance. You wouldn't get past the first door of the dome."
Abruptly, Jonny realized that they were heading further out of the city instead of inward. "Where are we going?"
"To Committé D'arl's country estate."
Jonny's mouth went dry. "Why?"
Jame frowned at him. "You're the one who just said you wanted to talk to someone. Committé D'arl's agreed to hear you out."
"At his private estate." Where Jonny could quietly and conveniently disappear, if necessary, with no one the wiser.
Jame sighed. "Look, Jonny, I know you don't like the Committé, but this is the only way you're going to get a hearing. And I'll tell you flat out that you couldn't find a more receptive audience anywhere in Dome." He glanced at his older brother. "Come on—settle back and relax. I know it probably looks like the whole universe is against you right now, but if you can't trust your old pillow-fight partner, who can you trust?"
Almost unwillingly, Jonny felt a smile touch his lips. "You may be right," he admitted.
"Of course I'm right. Now: we've got just under an hour for you to bring me up-to-date on the Aventine branch of the Moreau family. So start talking."