Chapter TWENTY-SIX
Zolan peered ahead. Reaching the depot's perimeter was less of a problem than he had anticipated. Following a few short stops to surface stations to inspect military tunnels and comm links, and validate the flitter's flight record, he diverted to a depression between Coldfield and the horizon. Resetting coordinates had taken seconds. Resuming flight, he quickly merged for a short distance with a queue of tugs and taxis along a crowded lane, then veered sharply up toward the Logistics Depot.
Blending his flitter's comm with the flood of electronic signals from nearby tugs and transports at the Gateway, Zolan drew closer to the huge Depot and took shelter in a knot of lashed vessels. Taking several deep breaths, he fixed his eyes and mind on the depot. Concentrating, he constricted and relaxed his neck and shoulder muscles in an irregular pattern, and repeated the rhythm until it invoked a slight pressure high in his left shoulder. The stresses energized the short-range sending device implanted in him prior to the Sentinel's escape.
His words, inaudible beyond his voice box, opened contact with the depot's command post.
"Calling Ditch-digger," he intoned. "Ditch-digger, refer to your k-library program file 6756, and respond on Bootstrap."
He repeated the message and waited. It would take time for the comm technician on duty to work it out. The communications staff would scurry about, searching for the program. Restricted to Sentinel, this contact would be its initial activation.
The receiver in his ear whispered, "This is
Ditch-digger in Bootstrap. Continue."
"Ditch-digger. Scramble 16."
Zolan hunched and tightened his shoulders to switch channels.
The voice came through. "Done."
"I want to speak with Colonel Hanno."
"One moment, please."
A short pause.
"Hanno."
"This is a Sentinel call. Break the seal on your copy of the Sentinel Support Plan and refer to Annex C, Section 21, line numbers 416 to 422. Note the encryption structure. I will cite the line in the structure that authenticates my request for support. Waiting."
Minutes passed. Breaking the seal on the highest classification Sentinel Support Plan was a grave responsibility that Hanno would not take lightly. He would need to do it in the station's security vault with no witnesses present. The comm center would then need to be cleared of personnel other than Hanno before the exchange could proceed. Finally, the receiver whispered again.
"I have the lines you refer to. Continue."
"Note how the authenticator is to be stated,"
Zolan said.
He rattled off a sequence of numbers, letters and symbols. Injecting a short, prescribed silence, he spun off another set. The authenticator was in two parts, each requiring its own style for presentation.
"Authenticator confirmed," Hanno said after a pause. "State request?"
"I'm in a flitter near the Gateway," Zolan said. "Request permission to come aboard and have unattended access to the spunnel transmitter for about five minutes. I will then depart."
"Permission granted. Do you wish an escort from your present position to the dock?"
"Yes, please send an unarmed tug to lead me through the gate, match me up, and point me at the dock. Tug operator and anyone else that observes my presence or the flitter must not repeat must not log the serial number of my flitter or any of its features. Clear all your people to beyond five meters in all direction from the passageways I'll be using, and from the spunnel comm center. I am armed with a hand weapon set for maximum effect without collateral damage to non-organics. My mission requires such precautions. Do you accept these conditions?"
"I accept."
"Noted. Have an unarmed guide at the air lock to precede me to the spunnel console. Instruct him to not speak to me, no questions, and to not interfere in any manner in what I do. When I've completed my work in the comm room the guide is to lead me back to the air lock. The same tug is then to get me through the Gateway, same conditions, and I'll be out of your way. When I'm gone conduct your highest-level UIPS security briefing. This mission is classified UIPS Black. Understood?"
"Understood. Ready?"
"Ready. I am moving toward the Gateway and will be there in two minutes. Have your man flash his reds and greens at one-second intervals. I will respond with standard flitter yellows at the same spacing. Over. Out."
Zolan carefully adjusted the controls to slip the flitter away from the screening vessels. Clear, he maneuvered his craft close to a space buoy that marked the route through Fandango.
A yellow-green striped tug appeared in the distance and grew larger. The Gateway's diameter could expand to pass the largest freighters or close completely. It could be straight or as convoluted as a randomly configured corkscrew. The tug passed through, flashing the agreed-on signals.
Zolan responded. The tug stopped, reversed heading, and waited for him to line up. Inside the force field, the route took them over, under and around huge freighters and through swarms of shuttles, tugs, and barges. Five hundred meters from the depot Zolan pressed a disk on his control column and a mag beam reached out and locked on to the tug.
The tug's thrusters glowed brighter with the power to match up both craft. Aligned, Zolan released the tug, and gentling his thrusters, brought his flitter to rest on a landing platform that had articulated from a portal.
Space suit closed and glare screens partially activated to veil his features, Zolan strode the Depot's corridors behind his escort. Although he had docked at the portal nearest his destination, the spunnel console was still almost a quarter kay from the air lock.
Reaching the console chamber, Zolan motioned his guide to wait outside. He entered and inspected the area for intruders and bugs. It seemed secure.
Approaching the squat spunnel transmitter he noted that Hanno had activated the system for immediate use and disengaged all logs and file-for-record links. Confirming the disconnect, Zolan wasted no time in preliminaries. Inserting the capsule he keyed the transmitter to the channels assigned to Sentinel and set off his burst.
The transmitter was a model that dated back several centuries to the depot's construction. Zolan knew from his training for the mission that a spunnel burst from the depot had to be arranged in parts. Each segment was to be inserted separately into the spunnel dispatch slot. The ancient transmitter could process only so much at a bite.
Zolan held the final segment and reached to insert it. A couple of seconds and the transmission would be complete. The console was coded to dissolve the capsule immediately following the burst; there would be no residue.
Zolan bent to insert the end of the message.
Sensing movement behind him, he slipped sideways and hit the deck. Without warning and in the line-of-fire, the squat console disintegrated as a rending flash arced across to where he had been a fraction of second before. Off balance, twisting to face the door, Zolan drew his weapon.
The flash blinded him. His suit shielded him against the instant hell-fire that bounced off the console.
Silence followed the attacker's second shot. Zolan crouched, weapon extended, vision clearing. No further shots. Snapping a quick glance around, he took in the damage. The console was a melted lump and the room a shambles. He had to get out and away.
Up on his feet, he raced through the open doorway, gun raised. His escort to the comm room lay spread-eagled in the corridor, head burned to a crisp by what must have been a max shot. The corridor was empty.
"They cleared the area of everyone but the killer," he thought bitterly.
Having committed the route to memory as he followed the escort to the spunnel room, Zolan raced along the corridors, gun in hand. No one barred his way.
The air lock came in view. He hurried through and twisted into the flitter driver's cage. He cut the mag beam to the dock and signaled the waiting tug.
##
They met on the transit strip.
Standing close, facing off the strip, observant,
Zolan briefed Brad in quick, terse phrases.
"What's your assessment?" Brad asked when
Zolan finished.
"It was a long, straight corridor. The escort must have been shot from the bend some distance away. Damage to the comm room was extensive. Scarf must have an agent there. My having the area cleared alerted him. That brought on the attack."
"Did you get word to Hanno?"
"No. It would have raised questions I couldn't answer without breaking our cover. He'll have to figure it out for himself. I'm concerned about what the agent will report to his control."
"Whatever they conclude, the action eliminates the depot as a comm resource for us. Did you get the entire message on its way?"
"I don't know. The last fragment included the Point
Icarus coordinates."
Their eyes met.