Plan B by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page A

receive the simple back-of-the-head execution Security itself had recommended. Security would have the file that said Nelirikk Explorer was hereinafter and forever Nelirikk No-Troop, shamed and shunned—the only living Yxtrang to have been captured by a Liaden.

    Caught in a trap—tricked, as Liaden scouts had been tricking Yxtrang for untold years—and then let go , to return to his commander and report, half-dazzled by the possibilities he glimpsed within the information the scout had—knowingly?—given. He'd described the ship. . .

    So they'd taken his report, ignored it, isolated him from the small cadre of Yxtrang explorers, made him a no-troop and forgot him.

    And now he was here, a rogue no-troop, apparently so weary of his dutiless life that he interfered with command level action in the General's own war room! An explorer might possibly have done so, without punishment.

    If there were any explorers left. He'd searched for traces of the unit, using stolen computer time and unauthorized glimpses of ship movements through distant portholes—to no purpose. His terror was that they had disbanded the explorers, and made him no-troop in a far different way.

    " Hup !"

    He came to his feet, at attention. The General stood before him, comrade close, eyes full of calculation, the tattoos of rank and achievement not quite disguising the unnatural ruddiness of his face.

    "You retain your alertness, No-Troop."

    "A soldier survives through alertness, sir."

    The eyes narrowed.

    "I have reviewed your records," the General said, "and I understand how you might have been able to identify a ship unknown to our scanning program. I understand how you might react without permission and assume compliance. I understand, also, that you have disturbed the organization of my war room."

    A statement of facts required no reply. Nelirikk continued to look eye-to-eye with the planetary commander.

    "What do you say of your insolence, Nelirikk No-Troop?" the General demanded. Nelirikk avoided the sigh.

    "Sir. I sought to serve the Troop, and gave warning of clear danger. Pilots are not to be wasted—"

    "Silence!" roared the General. "Do not consider yourself a pilot, No-Troop. That honor was long-ago forbidden you."

    He turned abruptly, jabbing a finger toward the table and the computers. "Sit."

    The General took the second chair, tapped in a request and leaned back as the battle-site filled the screen.

    "Now, No-Troop, why do you think such a ship would be on this planet? Why did it remain grounded rather than rising to the fight? Mere Liaden cowardice?"

    The urge to look wonderingly at the General was strong; Nelirikk instead stared at the screen, restructuring the logic chain he had formed in the war room.

    "I have given this matter thought, sir. However, I have little information about the current military situation—"

    "You need none. Speak to this case!"

    Nelirikk did sigh, very quietly.

    "Yes, sir. In this case several possibilities exist." Unconsciously, he moved into the lecture technique he'd learned for briefing fellow explorers.

    "One possibility is that the ship was under repair and unable to lift. Supporting information is sparse—no repair machinery was observed about the craft. Another possibility is that a junior officer during the commander's absence manned the ship. We then have a reason for the delay in firing, and also for the failure to lift and engage."

    The General gave a mildly approving click.

    "Another possibility," Nelirikk continued, "is that the ship was unmanned and computerized self-defense functions were in force. Or that the crew was aboard and deliberately sought to escape notice so that a later strike at a capital ship might be launched. My assumption is that Barakhan took damage from that last bolt—"

    "An invalid assumption, No-Troop. So small a ship, and firing through atmosphere, to touch Barakhan ?" The General waved a hand in negation.

    "I saw the ship fire when the