Corasol nodded. "The last few crews in have reported trouble. Ah—what about—"
Taine shook his head. "Sorry, sir. No trace. No one's seen them. But they're probably at the port ahead of us, hiding out. They'd know we'd arrive eventually."
"I suppose so. You sent word to them well in advance...."
"Suppose I stand by here with a few men. We'll patrol the tunnels in case they show up. We have several hours before daylight."
"Yes. I'll go along and see to the preparations at Exit Ten. We'll make our sortie at oh-five-hundred. If you haven't seen anything of them by then...."
"I'm sure they're all right."
"They'd better be." Corasol said grimly "Let's be off, Retief."
"If it's all the same to you, Mr. Manager-General, I'll stay here with Taine. I'll join you later."
"As you wish. I don't imagine there'll be any trouble—but if there is, having a CDT observer along will lend a certain air to the operation." He smiled, shook Retief's hand and moved off along the tunnel. The echo of feet and voices grew faint, faded to silence. Taine turned to the three men detailed to him, conversed briefly, sent them off along branching corridors. He glanced at Retief.
"Mr. Retief, you're a diplomat. This errand is not a diplomatic one."