Live Bait

The d'Alemberts and the Bavols spent most of the night after their discussion with the

Head sitting around the large table in the com room, going over the information they'd

received about the phony Wombat and Periwinkle. The doubles' method was simple and

coldly efficient: They would place a call to the local SOTE headquarters, where the use

of their special codenames would win them instant obedience. They'd arrange for all the

agents on that world to converge at an out-of-the-way location within a very short period

of time, so the local commander wouldn't have the chance to check with HQ on Earth.

Once they had everyone assembled, they massacred the SOTE people without

mercy-and the last place any Service agent would expect betrayal was from Wombat

and Periwinkle.

"Maybe we did too good a job," Jules sighed. "We're legends in our own time, and Lady

A's cashing in on that." "How do I always get mixed up with such mod_ est men?" Yvette

wondered aloud.

"I was bragging on your behalf, too," Jules said. "But other than our codenames, the

conspiracy doesn't seem to know any more about us than anyone else does. As far as

we know, the doubles have never shown themselves; at least they've never left a living

witness. They may be afraid their descriptions won't jibe. That may work to our

advantage; if they don't know what we look like, we may be able to fool them somehow."

"Lady A certainly knows what you and I look like," Vonnie pointed out. "She got a good

enough look at us on Gastonia, and since we're not listed on SOTE's regular roster,

she's smart enough to figure that at least one of us is a member of the legendary team.

And didn't Tanya Boros meet Yvette while you were tracking down BanionT,

"I don't think she'd remember much about me," Yvette said. "Jules was the one in the

spotlight as duClos; I stayed pretty much in the background. Besides, I was heavily

disguised to look middle-aged and frumpy. No, I'll bet I'm pretty much of an unknown to

them-and Pias will be totally unknown."

"It looks, then," Jules said, "as though we should break up into our usual pairings. If

anything requires movement on the outside, Vonnie and I will handle it since we're known

anyway. You two should work behind the scenes, so we can keep your identities secret

as long as possible. "

"The question still remains," said Pias, "of what we are going to do to stop the slaughter

of SOTE agents." "If they keep to their pattern," Yvette said, "we know exactly when and

where they'll strike. The line of their advance points straight to the planet Floreata, and

the timetable they've established makes it twenty-three days from now. That gives us

plenty of time to get there and plan our next move."

"But how accurately can we plan that next move?" Pias wondered. "The impostors pick

the spot of the ambush, and they only give a few hours' notice. We won't be able to work

up anything too elaborate until we know the details, and then we might not have enough

time."

"We also have to find a way of warning the local Service people not to fall into the trap,"

Vonnie said. Pias shrugged his shoulders. "That, at least, seems simple enough. We go

in there the day before and tell them what the conspiracy is doing, so they won't go to

the ambush spot. "

"I don't think that will work, mon cher," Yvette said, shaking her head. "The impostors

won't show themselves unless the SOTE squad. turns up."

"Or something that looks like the SOTE squad," Jules murmured.

All eyes turned to him, and his sister grinned. "I recognize that expression on your face,

mon cher frere. There are times I think even Lady A can't match you in sneakiness, and

this is one of them. Would you care to share that idea with the rest of us?"

"A thought did occur to me," Jules admitted. "On Gastonia, when Lady A wanted to set

an irresistible trap, she used herself as live bait, knowing we'd never pass up a chance to

get our hands on her. Now she wants us; this whole scheme has been designed to draw

us in. We ought to be able to use her own trick on her."

"The difference," Vonnie pointed out, "is that we wanted her alive to question her about

the conspiracy. They already seem to know a lot about the Service; all she may want of

us is our heads on a plate."

"I'm not so sure," Jules said. "They know a lot more about us than we know about them,

that's true. But they don't know everything, or they wouldn't have set up this trap this

way. I'm willing to bet they don't know anything about the Circus, for instance. Only a few

people outside the family have ever known about it; there's been nothing in writing,

nothing entered into the files. The conspiracy must know there's something missing from

their information; we've spoiled their plans a few too many times for it to be random

chance. There's something they're not taking into account, and they'll want to know what

it is.

"Remember when Lady A let us capture her and inject her with what we thought was

nitrobarb? She was actually criticizing us for not knowing how to operate, and for

squandering such a potential resource. I think she was showing some of her true

personality there-and I think if she got her hands on Agents Wombat and Periwinkle she

wouldn't just kill them outright. She'd want to interrogate them to find out what pieces of

the SOTE puzzle were missing. She'd be confident she could kill us later, after she found

out what she needed to know."

"In other words," Vonnie said slowly, "you're proposing that we be the live bait in this

trap."

Her husband nodded. "We'll have to take the risk. We want to go a step beyond the

obvious. It's not just enough to capture or kill the impostors; the conspiracy could just

start playing the game again somewhere else with a new team and we'd end up

spending all our time tracking down phony Wombats and Periwinkles. We have to get

behind the game and show them it won't work. They'll abandon a tactic if it proves

unprofitable-we've seen that. We just have to make this damned unprofitable for them."

"I just hope the cost isn't too high for our side, too," Yvette said-and her sentiment met

with no opposition from the others.

The planet Floreata was a hot world, orbiting much closer to its central star than Earth

did to its primary. The polar ice caps in both hemispheres were barely noticeable, and

disappeared altogether in summer. Much of the water vapor that would have otherwise

condensed at the poles remained in the atmosphere, with the result that large portions of

the planet's surface were perpetually overcast. The air was thick and steamy, and mists

rose constantly from the top of the oceans.

There were no deserts on Floreata. Most of the planet was soggy with swampland, and

warm rains were a perennial feature everywhere but the extreme northern and southern

latitudes. The winds usually tended to be mild, so there were no fierce hurricanes or

monsoons. There were even times when the sun broke through the cloud cover and

steamed the swamps for a short while before the mists and drizzles claimed them again.

Floreata was not an easy place for humans to dwell, but people are stubborn and, once

they have set their minds on living in a certain place, they will go to extremes to protect

their homes. Plants of many sorts grew well in Floreata's moist heat, making the planet a

rich source of agricultural products. With that as an incentive, people lived there despite

the oppressive climate.

The major cities tended to be in the higher latitudes, where temperatures were more

moderate by human standards. The swamps had been cleared away and enormous

transparent domes had been erected to protect the cities from the worst of the rain.

Little could be done about the all-pervasive humidity, however. Mildew and rotting were

constant problems, and special building materials and fabrics were needed to keep

civilization from falling apart after only a few years.

Despite the problems, more than six hundred million people made Floreata their home.

They were dedicated and proud of their existence, and few would have moved away

even if offered an alternative.

The very nature of the planet, though, offered the quartet of SOTE agents special

difficulties. There were large sections of the planet still uninhabited, much of it in dismal,

mucky swamps. If the impostors stayed true to form, they could set their ambush in any

number of distasteful settings. "We have to let them pick the battlefield," Jules admitted

during the planning sessions, "but we can provide a few surprises of our own."

Twelve hours before the impostors were due to appear, the real Agent Wombat called

Service headquarters on Floreata and spoke with Colonel Josephine Reede. "We think

we've located a rebel base on the far side of the fourth planet in this system. The

nearest naval station of any size is a couple of days away, and by the time they could

get here our birds may have flown. Can you give us a hand?"

"I'd be honored," the colonel said. "What do you need?"

"I need your entire contingent in space armor, waiting in a ship just above that planet.

How many people have you got here?"

"Twelve. "

"Good, that should be enough." Jules proceeded to give the colonel instructions. She and

her people were to rendezvous above the fourth planet in twelve hours, and were to wait

there until they received further instructions from Wombat. If they received no instructions

within an additional twelve hours, it was an indication that the rebels had moved and the

raid would be called off. In that event, Jules said, the SOTE people could return to

Floreata with both his thanks and his apologies for bringing them on a futile mission.

Colonel Reede and her agents were destined to spend an uncomfortable half a day in

space armor, keyed up for a battle that would never happen. For months afterward

some of them would be griping about the experience, never knowing that they'd been

taken well out of harm's way. Jules had at least made sure they'd still be alive months

later to do the griping.

With all the agents out on Jules's errand, there were only a couple of civilian clerks left to

mind the office. Yvette walked in with body padding and heavy makeup as a disguise and

identified herself as Agent Periwinkle. The clerks, while not trained agents, knew of that

codename and were dutifully obedient. Yvette explained that she would be coordinating

activities on the upcoming raid, and all communications were to be channeled through

her. She brought Pias in and assigned him to handle all incoming calls.

Precisely on schedule, a call came in from "Agent Wombat" demanding to speak to

Colonel Reede on a matter of high priority. Pias immediately put the call through to

Yvette, who had commandeered the colonel's office. "This is Colonel Reede," Yvette

said.

"This is Agent Wombat," came a voice that she knew did not belong to Jules.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, putting the proper amount of reverence in her voice.

The impostor went on to discuss plans for an attack against a criminal hideout every bit

as phony as the rebel base Jules had invented. The coordinates he gave placed it, as

they had feared, right in the middle of a large, unpopulated swamp. Yvette agreed to

rendezvous there with all twelve of her people in two hours. The pseudoWombat rang off

without even so much as a thank-you.

Well, Yvette thought, Julie has lots of flaws, but at least he's more polite than that.

Within seconds she was in contact with Jules and Vonnie, filling them in on the details of

the ambush. With that out of the way, Yvette and Pias departed, thanking the clerical

staff for their help. The SOTE personnel never knew that a tragedy had just been

averted.

Throughout history, every city in every civilization has had its dropouts, its losers, its

hopelessly outcast. The cities of Floreata were no exception. Immediately after learning

the number of agents stationed on this world, Jules and Yvonne d'Alembert had scoured

the bars and slums looking for people willing to participate in their masquerade. It did not

take them very long at all. It was amazing how many people were willing to play cops

and robbers, no questions asked, for a hundred rubles. The agents picked ten of the

cleanest they could find, who with themselves would round out the dozen.

There was barely time to arrange the transportation and fly all the phony agents to the

designated spot in time for the rendezvous. Jules and Vonnie had their "team" assemble

in the swamp just north of a clearing where the pseudo-Wombat had said the enemy was

located. The only sign of habitation was a small plastifoam but at the southwest corner of

the clearing-hardly a job that would have required twelve agents in any case, and

certainly not one that the real Wombat would have needed help on.

The d'Alemberts kept their group together and waited, swatting at the stinging insects

and battling the heavy swamp stench. The ambushers were not likely to show

themselves until they knew their instructions had been carried out; they knew the real

Wombat and Periwinkle had probably been alerted to their tactics by now, and they

would not want to make any costly mistakes.

They were not kept waiting long. A small copier appeared overhead, and the

pseudo-Wombat's voice came down to Jules and Vonnie's com unit. "Glad to see you

followed instructions. I want you to move in and capture the gang hiding out in that hut.

Stunners only-I want them alive for questioning. My partner and I will stay up here and

survey the scene, in case any of them break through your lines."

"The hut's probably booby-trapped," Jules said, and Vonnie nodded agreement. Jules

turned to their ten "confederates. "

"You've served your purpose here," he told the people. "I want you to sneak off now and

hide yourselves in the swamp. You can go anywhere except into that clearing, and don't

go anywhere near that hut. There may be some shooting, but it won't be aimed at you.

As soon as everything's settled, you can reassemble and take the copiers back to the

city. Thanks for your help."

The people dispersed as they were instructed, and moments later an angry call came

down from the copier. "What's the matter with you? I told you to send your team into the

hut, not away from it!'

"I'm operating under a different set of orders," Jules replied calmly.

"You're not Colonel Reede," the voice on the com unit accused.

"And you're not Wombat, either," Jules said. "I am." As he spoke, he took careful aim at

the copier with his blaster and fired, hoping to knock out its engine. The copier was up at

the extreme range of his blaster, and the shot-though perfectly centered-did no effective

damage. The copier's occupants, realizing they were in an all-out war, immediately fired

back at the two remaining figures on the ground. The craft was more heavily armed than

the agents, and there was nothing ineffective about the blaster beams that came sizzling

downward. Jules and Vonnie had to leap for cover into the dense vegetation as the

deadly rays scorched the damp ground where they'd been standing instants before.

The copier hovered above the scene, just out of handgun range, pouring energy at a

relentless intensity into the swamp where the agents had disappeared. Jules and Vonnie

were not given the chance to stand and think of any cogent response to the threat. They

could only move and react, trusting to their training and quick reflexes to keep them alive.

In drier terrain, the intense heat from the enemy's blasters would undoubtedly have

started a forest fire, adding to the danger and confusion. The trees here were so damp

that they were not about to catch fire. They sizzled under the copter's beams, emitting

the powerful stench of smoldering vegetation as well as clouds of smoke and steam that

helped conceal the d'Alemberts' escape.

When this initial assault failed to achieve its objective, the killers in the copier decided on

a new and subtler tactic. Laying down a continuous line of blaster fire, they began moving

it slowly inward toward the clearing. To the d'Alemberts, the strategy was clear: The

enemy was sweeping them toward the clearing and the plastifoam hut, where they'd be

perfect targets. Moving away from the clearing meant running directly into the blaster

beams. They had no choice but to be pushed the way the enemy wanted them to go.

Fighting against the vines that clung and tried to hold them back, they were herded closer

to the clearing.

The agents did have a choice, however, about how fast they moved in that direction. The

copter's passengers were taking their time about moving their sweep inward, being

careful not to miss any spot where the fugitives might hide or break out of the pattern.

Jules realized that if, instead of moving grudgingly toward the clearing, he and Vonnie ran

through it at full speed, they might break through to the other side before the copier could

re-aim.

He communicated his idea to his wife in a series of breathy orders as they ran, and she

gasped her agreement. Running at top DesPlainian speed hampered by the damp

springy ground and the sticky vines, they raced ahead of the blaster fire, hoping to make

it through the clearing and into the underbrush beyond, where they could separate and

make it harder for their foes to maneuver them.

They made it halfway through the clearing before the enemy could react. Jules had to

admit that the conspiracy had picked top marksmen for this assignment; their reflexes

were nearly as fast as the d'Alemberts'. Before the real SOTE agents could make it all

the way across the clearing, they found that the wall of blaster fire had shifted and was

now in front of them. Only their own lightning reflexes enabled them to stop in time to

avoid running directly into it. Vonnie nearly fell trying to execute such an abrupt change of

direction, and Jules reached out to steady her and pull her away.

The curtain of blazing energy curved about them, constricting their movements once

more. They could not run back into the swamp from which they'd come, nor could they

move out ahead. Their only option was toward the hut. Now that they were in the open,

the enemy was able to push them faster, making them move at their most rapid pace.

It was clear that the people in the copier were toying with them; in the open like this, the

d'Alemberts made easy targets for anyone with the firepower of that craft. The fact that

they weren't killed outright raised Jules's hopes that his supposition was correct. The

conspiracy wanted to capture him alive to find out more of what he knew. That would

make what had to be done here that much easier.

Alive, though, did not necessarily mean unharmed. He and Vonnie still could not be

positive the enemy wouldn't use their blasters to incapacitate their prey.

The door to the but stood invitingly open. They were being herded rapidly in there, even

though they knew the building was booby-trapped. Their only hope lay in finding a safe

way out again before the trap could be sprung.

Again they decided to use their speed as their only weapon in this situation. Outracing

the wall of blaster fire behind them, they ran through the open door into the darkened

interior of the hut.

The back wall of the small building was against a patch of trees, and there was a

window in it. The d'Alemberts didn't need to communicate in order to coordinate their

movements; there was only one option open to them. In one fluid motion they raced to

the back of the but and dived through the window back into the cover of the swamp.

Barely a millisecond behind them, the but exploded as the blaster beams from the copter

touched off a charge of explosives that had been hidden on the roof. The shock waves

from the blast jarred the agents to their teeth, leaving them slightly stunned. The heat

from the explosion seared their skin and pieces of debris rained down on them like a fiery

hailstorm. They lay face down, unable to move from the shock for a few seconds. In

those few seconds they hoped hard that the enemy did not have infrared detectors. The

d'Alemberts knew they were covered by enough foliage to be invisible to the naked eye,

but an infrared system would spot their body heat among the plants. The few seconds it

took their nervous systems to recover from the blast left them exposed to the deadly

rays from above.

But no blaster bolts came blazing down, and the SOTE agents were slowly able to pull

themselves together and take further stock of the situation. Overhead they could hear the

copter circling the clearing slowly, looking for any sign of human life. Seeing none, the

craft spiraled warily downward so its occupants could inspect the site for themselves.

The d'Alemberts crouched and, at a whispered signal from Jules, they separated, moving

to either side of the clearing, ready to attack from different angles as soon as their

opponents were vulnerable. Their bodies were dripping in sweat after their exertion in the

hot, damp air, but they ignored that. When d'Alemberts were on the hunt, physical

discomfort meant little.

The copter touched down gently a few meters from the remnants of the exploded hut. At

first, nothing happened. Then the door slowly opened and two figures emerged, a man

and a woman. They were clad in lightweight battle armor-enough to deflect stunner

beams and ordinary blaster bolts, yet still flexible enough to allow freedom of movement.

Jules and Vonnie had their heavy-duty blasters with them, having enough power to drill

right through that armor, if necessary. Each armored figure also carried a blaster. There

was no polite, gentlemen's agreement, fooling around with stun weapons; these people

meant business.

The pair from the copter slowly approached the remains of the hut, weapons at the

ready. Jules waited until they were well away from their vehicle, making retreat impos-

sible, and then yelled at them, "Drop your weapons. I've got a Mark Twenty-Nine Service

blaster pointed at you, and it'll eat through that armor like paper."

The armored figures did not drop their weapons, nor had Jules expected them to. Even

as he spoke, he was firing his own blaster. His aim was perfect; the beam struck the

other man's weapon full on, reducing its components to slag almost instantly. From her

hiding point across the way, Vonnie made a similar shot to disarm their other opponent.

Weaponless, now, the armored enemies were in a quandary. They could not fire back at

their opponents, but there was still a slight chance they could make a break back into the

copter. Jules's second shot discouraged them from considering that notion further as his

beam dug a small trench between the people and their craft. Realizing they were

trapped, the two killers stood still and spread their arms in a gesture of surrender.

"Strip off the armor," Jules called next, refusing to budge from his position of safety until

he was sure the enemy was totally at his disposal. The two figures fol-    I lowed his

instructions, divesting themselves slowly of the cumbersome armor until they stood

revealed in the light clothing they'd worn under it.

Jules eyed them critically. They were a tough, hard muscled pair, probably very good in

a fight-but they were not DesPlainians. He'd never seen either of them before, but then

he hadn't expected any old friends to show up-the conspiracy seemed to have a limitless

supply of muscle to back up its plans. On a fishing expedition for Wombat and

Periwinkle, Lady A would send only her best.

Only after the two traitors had fully removed their armor did the d'Alemberts step out into

the clearing, guns still trained on their enemies. Stun-guns would have made the capture

a lot easier, but the agents had been walking into a dangerous encounter and wanted to

be certain they were armed for the worst.

They were not prepared, however, for what happened next. A loud buzzing sound filled

the air, emanating from the copter, and stunner beams hit Jules and Vonnie simul-

taneously. There had been at least two more people hidden inside the vehicle, waiting

just in case the d'Alemberts had survived the explosion.

The SOTE team dropped unconscious to the ground without even having time to

appreciate the irony of the situation. Within seconds the entire outcome had been turned

around, and now the d'Alemberts were prisoners of the killers who'd been impersonating

them.