Chapter  2

Deadly Doubles

The small spaceship approached the asteroid belt at great speed. The space debris

ahead was not so densely packed that it was an impassable hazard, but it did serve as a

natural obstacle course to be successfully astrogated. A wrong move could be fatal. It

would take fast reflexes and steady nerves to make it through without mishap.

In the co-pilot's seat, Jules d'Alembert asked, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

The pilot, his brother-in-law, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If I don't do it now,

I never will," Pias Bavol said. "I've gone through here at cruising speed, but I'll have to do

better than that. Lady A won't let me cruise along casually if she gets me in her sights."

"Eh, bien," Jules said. "The show's all yours."

Pias stretched his fingers and swivelled his shoulders a few times to limber them up, then

leaned forward to concentrate on the control screen. The panel extended before him, a

broad expanse covered with buttons, knobs, switches, screens, dials, gauges, and

glowing lights. Pias extended the protective screens to their limits to shield the ship from

a stream of particles too small to be detected on the sensors. He cut off the rear

scanners and focused all the vessel's detection capacity to a rapid forward scan. He

wasn't worried about asteroids overtaking him from the rear-but the defensive shields

would be useless against a flying piece of rock more than a couple of meters in

diameter.

After one last millisecond of hesitation, he turned off the automatic pilot and took

complete manual control of the spacecraft. The autopilot would have been useful for

dodging one rock at a time, at slow speeds, but it tended to overcompensate; in

swerving to avoid one oncoming asteroid it could very well steer them directly into

another and not be able to correct in time. Fine tuning like that was still the province of

human reflexes.

Reflexes were one of Pias's greatest assets. Both he and Jules were natives of planets

whose gravity was three times stronger than that of Earth. Over the generations, nature

had bred their ancestors for lightning reactions. Pias, Jules, and all their kin could move

at speeds that dazzled people from normal gravity worlds.

The first obstacles were starting to appear on the scanners now, along with

computer-generated arcs showing their orbits relative to the ship. No danger so far; the

closest would miss by more than a kilometer. Pias had arbitrarily set himself a safety

range of two hundred meters. Anything closer than that would be avoided; beyond that

limit, he refused to worry about it.

In the seat beside him, he knew Jules was watching the screen as intently as he was. At

the slightest hint that Pias might not be able to handle the situation, Jules was prepared

to switch control over to his co-pilot's board and get them out of trouble. It was

comforting, in a way, to have such a backup, because Pias knew Jules was an expert

pilot. All the same, he was hoping it wouldn't be necessary. More obstacles were

appearing on the scanner now, ranging in size from small boulders to large mountains.

Pias ignored the size and mass data also displayed on the screen; all he cared about

was how close the object's path would come to his ship's.

The first indication of something that would come within the safety limits appeared. Even

though the computer said it would miss the ship by a good seventy-five meters, Pias

wanted to take no chances at this stage. His hand moved to the attitude controls and

made ever so minor a course correction; they flew past the rock without trouble.

They were starting to reach the thickest part of the belt. The asteroid zone within the

DesPlainian solar system was not nearly as thick as that in Earth's solar system, nor was

it as dense. In order to make this a fair test, they were approaching the belt at an

oblique angle that would cause them to spend a minimum of an hour traversing the

densest part of the swarm.

That first course deflection was merely the beginning. All too quickly the asteroids were

flying past them at distances of fifty meters or less. Pias's hands were playing across his

console like those of a concert pianist at a keyboard. This was where all his training was

coming in handy. He had spent every spare moment for the last few months practicing at

these controls. The intellectual knowledge of where each control was located on the

board was of no use; his fingers had to know their way there by instinct, had to make the

proper adjustments-no more, no less-by sheer eye-to-hand coordination, bypassing the

conscious mind completely. The problem was immeasurably complicated by the fact that

he was dealing with three dimensions rather than two; he had to worry, not only about

right and left, forward and back, but also up and down.

Each correction he made altered the relative paths of the other rocks around him so that

their new courses had to be checked. Sometimes his changes actually brought him into

danger from asteroids that would have missed by a wide margin if he hadn't swerved to

avoid a previous one.

There was sweat on his forehead and a drop trickled down into his eye, burning it. He

tried to blink it away; he dared not take his hands from the control board long enough to

wipe at it. For a while he was piloting with only one good eye, which diminished his depth

perception and made his movements slightly less reliable. After a few moments his eye

watered sufficiently to dilute the sweat and the discomfort eased. It was to his credit that

not once during that time did Jules make a move to take control away from him.

Then they were through the worst part of the belt, and Pias's breathing started returning

to normal. He made a casual maneuver to slide gracefully away from one approaching

asteroid-and suddenly found himself facing an onrushing behemoth head on. It appeared

out of nowhere on the scanner and came straight toward him at a speed nearly equal to

his own.

If Pias had stopped to think, he and Jules might have ended up as slime on the face of

the space rock. His hands moved with a life of their own, swerving the ship's direction so

quickly that he was nearly knocked out of his chair. He imagined he could hear the

asteroid scraping along the side of the ship as they passed one another, even though the

distance was nearly ten meters. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jules's hands

poised over the co-pilot's controls; the more experienced man would have taken over in

another fraction of a second-but even that might have been too late.

Then abruptly they were out of the zone and into what was considered open space

again. The sensors indicated' completely empty space ahead, so Pias reduced speed;

switched on the autopilot once more, and sagged limply back in his seat.

"Must have been a rogue," Jules said calmly beside him. "Most of the asteroids within the

zone are moving approximately in the same direction and speed. Occasionally a free one

gets captured moving the other way. It doesn't usually last too long because it collides

with the rocks going the other way, just like it nearly collided with us."

Pias paused to regain his breath, then asked, "Well, how'd I do?"

"We're alive and unscratched-that's all that really matters. The Service doesn't give

points for neatness." He smiled as he added, "Next time, of course, you'll have to

practice dodging while firing back at them at the same time. "

"You're so encouraging." Pias plotted the course back to DesPlaines and spent the next

two hours relaxing after his ordeal.

Landings, as he had learned, were the hardest part of flying any air or

spacecraft-particularly landings on a three-gee world where the ground comes up to

meet you at a dizzying speed. This was the maneuver he'd practiced most often, and it

still made him slightly nervous. He moved with special care as he brought the ship down

to a perfect landing on the small private spaceport field that adjoined Felicite, the ducal

manor house of the d'Alembert family. As the two men climbed out of the ship, a

groundcar pulled up to the edge of the field and their wives waved at them.

Yvette Bavol and Vonnie d'Alembert were the other halves of what were acknowledged

to be the two best undercover teams in the Service of the Empire. All four were high-grav

natives, with all the speed, strength, and agility that implied. All four were intelligent and

resourceful, highly trained, and highly motivated. In addition, Jules and his sister Yvette

were members of the extraordinary Family d'Alembert, with its tradition of loyalty and

devotion to the Empire and its rulers.

"I see you both made it back intact," Vonnie shouted as the groundcar drove onto the

landing field to meet the two men.

The car pulled to a stop and each of the spacefarers kissed his wife in greeting. "How

can you ladies have ever doubted me'?" Pias asked immodestly.

"I had no doubt whatsoever that you'd brag about it afterwards," his wife laughed. "It

was the part in between takeoff and landing that worried us."

"I had to teach him something," Jules said. "There's only so many times you can save the

Empire on dumb luck alone. "

The incident he referred to had happened six months ago during the coronation of

Empress Stanley Eleven, while the forces of Lady A's conspiracy had been massing to

attack Earth. Pias, alone in a space vessel he didn't know how to pilot, had been the only

one in position to warn the Imperial Fleet that they were heading for an ambush. He'd

accomplished the feat by pushing buttons at random and piloting his craft in the most

absurd way possible so that the Imperial Fleet stopped short of the ambush site to

investigate.

It was an achievement of special daring-but afterwards, all concerned agreed that it

would be best if, in the future, the young Gospodin Bavol learned how to fly a spacecraft

accurately. They'd been fortunate that, because of the rout of the conspiracy's forces,

there was a quiet period with no assignments, giving Pias time to learn the needed skills.

His intensified course under Jules's watchful eye had made him into a very good pilot in a

surprisingly short time. The four young people were laughing as they climbed into the

groundcar for the short ride to the manor house itself. The past few months had been a

welcome and much needed vacation after the strenuous assignments that culminated

with the coronation. The entire Empire had been shaken by the bold attack on Earth, but

it had held on and had not toppled. There followed a period of peace that allowed

everyone a chance to breathe more easily--even though the agents knew such a state of

affairs could not last forever.

The call they'd feared came that very night, after they finished dinner. The frequency and

the coding of the subetheric transmission left no doubt that the call came from the Head

of the Service himself. The d'Alemberts and the Bavols adjourned quickly to the

mansion's coin room to receive their assignments in privacy.

There, seated in upholstered leather chairs around a large table with built-in computer

terminals, they acknowledged receipt of the signal. The decoding device unscrambled the

incoming message and a shape slowly materialized in the air above the center of the

table-the familiar face of Grand Duke Zander von Wilmenhorst, Head of the Service of

the Empire.

The Grand Duke's most striking feature was that his head was completely shaven, giving

a dramatic effect to the lean, lined face. A closer observer, however, would notice the

brightness in his eyes, a depth of keen intelligence that was restive, ever thinking. The

Head was relentless in his pursuit of the Empire's enemies; now in his fiftieth year, he

combined his native intellect with long experience, and though comparatively few within

the Empire knew the crucial role he played in its affairs, he was regarded in the highest

echelons as the government's premier strategist.

The agents were prepared to greet their boss cheerfully, but the grim expression on the

Head's face made them realize something was seriously amiss. Dispensing with the usual

formalities, Jules asked quickly, "What's wrong?"

"We've been wondering what little game the conspiracy would play next, after their

defeat on Coronation Day," von Wilmenhorst said. "We had the Service braced for

almost anything, anywhere, and still they've managed to surprise us. They've launched an

attack against the Service itself using the most diabolical, insidious weapon they could

find. "

"I almost hate to ask, but what is it?" Yvette said. "You," the Head replied. As the agents

stared back at him, perplexed, he added, "Or rather, some people impersonating you."

"How can they?" Vonnie asked. "Nobody knows what we look like."

"That's precisely what they're counting on," the Head told them. "Fifty-five days ago, the

Service headquarters on Bolshaya received a high priority call that all the local agents

were supposed to gather at a remote location for an important assignment. The chief

officer on Bolshaya logged the call into his records, exactly as he was supposed to, and

assembled his people according to instructions. When we heard nothing from Bolshaya

for several days, we had agents from nearby Rellan go over to investigate. It seems our

personnel on Bolshaya were ambushed and massacred all of them. They were not

inexperienced people; the only reason they walked into the ambush without the slightest

suspicion was because the call came from Agents Wombat and Periwinkle."

Jules and Yvette exploded with indignation. "We were never anywhere near there!" Jules

exclaimed, and Yvette added, "We've been here on DesPlaines for the last six months. "

"I know all that," the Head nodded. "Let me continue. Precisely twenty-six days later, on

Blodgett, events repeated themselves. All the agents except one, who was in the hospital

recovering from surgery, were lured to a remote location and slaughtered by two people

claiming to be Wombat and Periwinkle. Then three days ago-exactly twenty-six days

after the massacre on Blodgett-the same thing happened on Arcta."

"I don't like having our names taken in vain." Anyone who knew Jules could have told

from the cold fury in his voice that someone was going to pay heavily.

"And I don't like the fact that fifty-three good, decent people were senselessly murdered

simply for serving the cause of justice," the Head told them. His anger was not as visible

as Jules's, but his voice was equally determined. "I know you're not involved in this-if you

wanted to betray the Service you could have thought of better and subtler ways. But we

cannot allow this imposture to continue. "

"I presume you want us to take care of it," Pias said. The Head paused, a rare trace of

indecision on his face. "That's what I called to discuss. I'm not completely sure that would

be the right thing to do. As I see it, this whole maneuver is a trap aimed specifically at

Jules and Yvette." "How can you tell?" Vonnie asked.

"We know the conspiracy has been tapped into our information for some time. They

know a great deal about us, but I don't think they know absolutely everything. They do

know the agents codenamed Wombat and Periwinkle are the two best we have, and that

there are standing orders for everyone in the field to give them the utmost, unquestioning

cooperation. But I don't think they know your identities, because that is not generally

known; to the best of my knowledge it's never been written down or entered in any

records. We thought this would be the safest course of action; it gave you total

anonymity to act as you felt necessary, yet it gave you access to the Service's resources

when you needed them.

"Lady A wants to destroy your effectiveness, either by handicapping your operations or

by killing you outright. Look at the choices we have open to us:

"We could do nothing at all, in which case they'd probably go on wiping out station after

station. That is unacceptable; too many people have already died because of this

subterfuge.

"Or we could put out the order that anyone identifying themselves as Wombat or

Periwinkle should be shot on sight. That would keep our agents from being duped by the

imposters, but it wouldn't make your job very easy. If we gave you new codenames,

there's no guarantee the conspiracy wouldn't learn them and pull the same trick over

again.

"Or we could take a middle tack by saying that orders from Wombat and Periwinkle need

not be obeyed unquestioningly. We could either circulate your description or make the

local branches more reluctant to give you assistance-but that would hamper your

activities. Any of these choices would end up restricting your effectiveness in some way

that could only benefit the conspiracy."

"There's another solution," Yvette said. "You could send us out to get them. We're the

only agents who wouldn't be fooled because we know who the real Wombat and

Periwinkle are."

The Head sighed. "Yes, that thought occurred to me, too. But that's exactly what Lady A

wants. Just look at the pattern. Each of the three systems hit so far is about ten parsecs

away from the previous one along a straight line. The events are spaced exactly

twenty-six days apart, and the method is the same in each case. It's ridiculously easy to

predict where, when, and how they will strike next. They might as well put up a gigantic

sign advertising themselves. And they know that only the real Wombat and Periwinkle

could challenge their impostors without hesitation. They'll be waiting for you."

"In a way," Jules said, "it's flattering to think they'd go to so much trouble just for us."

"I could do very nicely without such flattery," his sister commented. "Particularly when I

think we're indirectly responsible for the deaths of fifty-three of our fellow agents. If it

weren't for the system established to help us, they'd still be alive today."

"There you have it," von Wilmenhorst said. "I admit to being in a bit of a quandary. I know

what I'd like to do-but I hate playing into that woman's hands. I'd like your opinions on

this matter; it could affect either your jobs or your lives."

"In large measure," Yvette said, "our jobs are our lives. I can't speak for Jules, but I don't

want to give in to sneaky blackmail like this."

"You can speak for me, and very well," Jules said. "I agree completely. We have to

prove to Lady A and her mokoes that they can't laugh in our faces. They manipulated us

badly on our last encounter, we can't let them do that again."

"But isn't that exactly what they are doing?" Pias pointed out. "Don't you think they're

counting on our pride to make us come straight to them?"

"Pias is right," the Head said. "I think that's exactly what they're banking on. They know

our reactions entirely too well and they're setting us up."

"Still," Yvette said, "as you yourself admitted, what other choice do we have? If we give

in here, they'll only put pressure on us somewhere else. They'll push us back and back

until we have no farther to go. If the line is going to be drawn at all, we might as well

draw it now. "Besides," she added, "they may force the direction we're going in, but they

can't always guess how fast or how far we'll go. Lady A has miscalculated before,

remember. "

"So have we," Pias muttered, but the others pretended not to hear him.

The Head talked to them for a little while longer, giving them the pertinent details of the

case. He signed off with the Service toast, "Here's to tomorrow, fellows and friends. May

we all live to see it!" He acted as though this were just an ordinary assignment, even

though no case the d'Alemberts and Bavols worked on could be called ordinary.

But this one was special, and all four knew it. For the first time they would be walking

into a trap designed specifically for them; they would need courage, strength, and not a

little luck to escape this particular menace.