The Zenda Vendetta (TimeWars 4)

Drakov shook his head, having no idea what a warp grenade was. It sounded as if it had blown half the castle away. “Your people certainly possess a dogged persistence,” he said. “Very resourceful. My compliments. You’ve trained them well. I admire such determination.”

“Then give it its due,” said Forrester. “You have the upper hand. Let Andre go. She’s no threat to you now. I’m the one you really want.”

“True,” said Drakov, “but Falcon wants you all.”

“Assuming that she’s still alive,” said Forrester. “If she’s managed to kill the king, then chances are that it’s all over anyway. You’ve won. You’ve got what you wanted.”

“Why should I release her?”

“Colonel-” Andre said.

“Shut up, Corporal. That’s an order,” Forrester said sharply. “Your quarrel is with me, Nikolai. Everything that’s happened here in one way or another is my responsibility. This is a private matter between the two of us. Leave her out of it. You have nothing to gain by killing her now and nothing to lose by letting her go.”

“Moses, don’t-”

“I said shut up!” snapped Forester. “Nikolai, please. I’m begging you. You want me to get down on my knees?”

“Enough,” said Drakov. “I have no stomach to see you beg.”

“Do you have the stomach to see what Falcon will probably do to her?” said Forrater. “You really think that she’ll be satisfied with a quick kill? Look at her. She’s already weak from loss of blood. She probably couldn’t even stand up. But Falcon is a trained agent, a skilled assassin. She’ll be able to keep her alive for a long time before she’s finished.”

“Yes, I believe she would,” said Drakov, quietly.

“I’m not asking you for myself,” said Forrester. “Remember how your mother died. Remember how you tried to help and couldn’t.”

Drakov turned pale. “How did you know that?”

“Falcon, told me all about it in a letter,” said Forester, heavily. “She didn’t spare me much. She seemed to take a lot of pleasure in reconstructing the graphic details of the scene from what you must have told her. Undoubtedly, she embellished a great deal. Somehow, I can’t imagine you describing her being raped in quite that manner.”

Drakov gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Turn around,” he said.

Forrester hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly turning his back to him, facing the stone wail. He heard a muffled sob.

“The chronoplate is beneath her cot,” he said. “I will give you the sequence code for its tailgate device. Set the coordinates for your time and send her home.”

“No!” said Andre. “Moses, you can’t-”

Forrester reached out quickly and rendered her unconscious with a nerve pinch. Then, under his son’s direction, he deactivated the tailgate device on the chronoplate, assembled the border circuits, programmed the transition coordinates, and clocked her to Plus Time, to Pendleton Base. Then he turned to face his son,

“Here,” said Drakov, tossing him the control unit. “If Major Priest is still alive, then perhaps this will give him a fighting chance.”

Forrester turned off the defense systems, then tossed the unit onto the cot. It would end here and now, one way or another. Perhaps they had failed and it was all pointless, anyway. But his son was his responsibility. He would have liked to take out Falcon, but if she did not return in the next moment, he would be forced to leave her to Priest and Delaney, assuming they were still alive. He could wait no longer. At least Andre was clear.

Drakov lowered the laser and, to Forrester’s astonishment, dropped it on the floor.

“We shall settle this like gentlemen,” he said, as Forester stared at him uncomprehendingly. “You have dishonored my mother, sir. I demand satisfaction. The choice of weapons is yours.”

Forrester closed his eyes. He was seized by a sudden, irrational impulse to laugh. A duel. His son was challenging him to a duel.

?

??I fear that we have no sabres here,” said Drakov, “but we have the lasers and a number of revolvers. Or, if you prefer, wean use knives.”

Forrester smiled, ruefully. “What would you suggest?”

“Under the circumstances, I would favor knives,” said Drakov. “The room is quite small and would provide for no proper test of marksmanship.”

Forrester sighed and shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, softly. “God damn it, I just can’t.”