Trident's Forge by Patrick S Tomlinson Page B

guest.” Benson watched him go, an actor eager to climb onto his stage. Korolev inched over to where he stood and leaned in to talk privately.
    â€œHe looks happy.”
    â€œAs a pig in shit,” Benson agreed. “This is a politician’s natural environment.”
    â€œChief,” Korolev pitched his voice lower. “Am I in trouble?”
    The corner of Benson’s lip curled up. “Oh, most definitely.”
    â€œBut I did the right thing.”
    â€œThat’s the most reliable way to get into trouble, in my experience.” Benson put his arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out when we get back. And by the way, that was a nice fucking shot.”
    â€œThanks, but I can’t take much credit for it.” Korolev patted the top of his P-120. “These things are gyroscopically stabilized and the scope automatically compensates the reticule for range. If you take even a second to aim, it’s damned near impossible to miss out to five or six hundred meters.”
    â€œA little more complicated than my old handgun, huh?”
    â€œYeah, just a little. Are you all right, chief? You look a little flush.”
    â€œHmm? Oh, a little lightheaded, probably just nerves.”
    â€œSomething bothering you?”
    â€œWell I was almost run through with a spear a few minutes ago.”
    Korolev shook his head. “That’s not it.”
    â€œIt’s not?”
    â€œNo. You’ve been in enough scrapes to manage the adrenaline crash. Something else is on your mind.”
    Benson nodded. “The birds.”
    â€œBirds?”
    â€œYeah, the ones that took out Atwood’s drone. Didn’t that seem just a little strange to you? Convenient, even?”
    â€œSeemed pretty damned inconvenient to me. It would have spotted that Kuul prick and his minions in the field way before they could sneak up on…” Korolev’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh.”
    â€œNow you get it.”
    â€œYou think they were trained birds, and someone sent them to knock out our surveillance?”
    â€œI’m just saying I don’t put much stock in coincidence. Especially when I’m on the pointy end of it.”
    â€œBut how would they know about it. Unless…”
    â€œUnless what, Pavel?”
    â€œUnless Mei or one of the other Unbound told them what it was.”
    Benson let out a long breath as he considered the possibility. “She risked her life once to save us. I can’t believe she’d willingly help lead us into an ambush now.”
    â€œWhat if it wasn’t, you know, willingly?”
    Benson’s eyes hardened and glanced down at Korolev’s rifle. “Then we’ll have a real problem, won’t we?”
    â€œWhat should we do?”
    â€œNothing at the moment. I think you cured Kuul of his overconfidence, for now at least. Just keep your eyes open, yeah?”
    Korolev nodded. “You know I will.”
    The immense wooden gates guarding the only opening in the village’s thick ring of trees swung to the outside, groaning and creaking like an elderly giant unwillingly roused from its bed. Benson found himself moving toward the front of the crowd through pure Brownian motion.
    Light streamed between the doors as the crack widened. The crowd of humans pressed forward, propelled by anxious curiosity, straining to get a look at whatever was about to come out of the gates. The crack quickly grew until it was wide enough for the first members of the welcoming party to begin streaming out. Eight Atlantians walked out, tall and proud, dressed in elaborately woven skirts and forearm sleeves that shimmered in the sunlight like iridescent sequins. At first glance, Benson guessed they were made from the same scales he’d picked out of the drone wreckage.
    The Atlantians were all bare chested, which was unsurprising considering half or more of their