The Universe - or Nothing Part 17

"Yes, sir."

"Now, listen carefully."

Narval leaned forward, eyes on Scarf. He described Drummer's upcoming inventory operation. Stubby fingers smoothed the desk surface.

"I'll tell Drummer that I want you to go along on the inventory," he said. "Think up a reason; I don't care what it is so long as it gets you aboard. The real reason is to keep your eyes on Drummer, the operation, and these convicts he's harboring. I want to know everything that happens.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I do." Scarf's eyes lit up. He continued eagerly. "If Drummer goes to the depot or boards UIPS ships, I should go along to see what he does.

As Chief of Security, my position should compel him to accompany him. I suggest, sir, that you appoint me as your counter-intelligence representative on Drummer's task force. My job, then, would be to check if the depot or a transport, whichever we board, is conducting secret surveillance of our military facilities, field training, and ship movements. Drummer can be told that my boarding the depot would be essential to the mission you've a.s.signed to me."

"Hasn't our man on the depot told us they've been performing those observations for the UIPS for quite a while? Wouldn't Drummer see through that ploy?"

"Not if you tell him this would be the first opportunity for your Chief of Security to enter a UIPS domain and report to you directly on his observations. It would take me out from under Drummer's command."

"Hm, yes, I see what you mean." Narval returned to examining his fingernails. He lifted a finger to his lips and nibbled.

"Very well, Scarf. I'll tell Drummer."

Chapter SIXTEEN

Drummer paced the command deck of the Plutonian flagship Dragon, Brad nearby. Scarf, sprawled in an open accello-net fastened to a nearby bulkhead, watched and listened.

The ship vibrated as it moved along the launch rail leading to the mouth of the tunnel hanger. Captain Hyk, the ship's Commander, hunched over a control computer on the nearby bridge and snapped orders to his Operations Officer. Both cast sideways glances at Scarf, discomfited by his presence.

Brad visualized the scene on the bridges and flight decks of the more than two dozen warships, ranging from cruisers to fighters that formed the task force. All were in final countdown for launch from tunnels and galleries cut into reinforced chasms across a hundred kay of Pluto's surface.

At Drummer's invitation, Brad a.n.a.lyzed the launch schedule and deployment pattern. He had tactfully suggested substantive alterations to minimize warning time to the depot and its nearby transports. After some debate, during which Brad repeatedly justified his proposals to skeptical ship commanders, they were computer-tested, modified and accepted.

Brad knew he was on trial. Ram's words surfaced as he scanned the bridge: "...you will lie, cheat, bribe, subvert, sabotage, and kill for us, and should our greater purpose call for you to do so, against us."

"This one," he mused, ironically, "is on the 'against us' side of the ledger."

Hodak appeared at the entry to the command deck and beckoned to Brad. As Brad approached, Scarf rose and sauntered in their direction, seemingly scrutinizing instrument dials and panels along the way. His ears seemed to throb with the effort of eavesdropping.

"I've gone over the maintenance and operations checklists for all ships and technical support committed to this mission, as you told me to,"

Hodak said, "and then spot-checked them against installed equipment. We've only been on this job a couple of days, so I couldn't probe to any meaningful depth."

He heaved a deep sigh. "From what I've seen so far, Brad, the systems are not as well-maintained as they should be, and much of the data and crew training are not applicable or out of date.

"My recommendation is that as soon as we get back we conduct a hard-nosed professional inspection of the fleet to pinpoint all the cats-and-dogs these dunderheads have jerry-rigged into the equipment and the software. We gotta give priority to the checklists that need to be updated to correspond with installed equipment. No two ships have the same configuration, so each checklist will have to be tailored. That's only the first step, and it'll be one h.e.l.luva lotta work."

"Drummer's main concern right now is getting through this operation without using weapons or incurring a technical breakdown," Brad said.

"Either one will detract from the image we're trying to build. He should know ASAP what you found. I'll pa.s.s it along to him. Stand by with k.u.miko in case Drummer needs some technical advice on weapons or engineering."

"Right."

Hodak turned to leave, and his eyes met Scarf's.

Hodak grinned, and gave Scarf a thumbs up. Scarf glowered and turned away, moving back to the net.

Hodak disappeared down the pa.s.sageway.

The ship advanced along a rail into a gallery at the mouth of the tunnel. Captain Hyk turned to Drummer.

"The Dragon is at launch station," he said.

Drummer and Brad stepped from the command deck to a small balcony overlooking a shallow pit covered by a pale, translucent screen. A network of lines, representing tunnels and galleries, formed on the screen, each incorporating a tiny, yellow moving and blinking light to indicate a warship under Drummer's command. As each light reached launch position, it halted and changed from yellow to green. Drummer and Brad watched the last of the yellows convert. All green, ready to launch.

Drummer picked up a microphone, Brad beside him.

"This is Drummer," he said. "Operation authenticator Tornado Six. Execute. First wave.

Launch."

Five green lights flashed to red and disappeared, on their way to predesignated stations outside Fandango: one off each blunt end of the Depot cylinder and the remainder at the entry to the gateway force field.

Ten seconds later Drummer repeated his codes and launched the second wave. The corresponding lights on the screen flashed red and out. New green lights appeared in their place, this time moving in arcs converging on the cylinder centered in a sphere: the depot in its force field coc.o.o.n.

The converging lines ma.s.sed, reformed, and spread into a pattern resembling the spoke tips of an open umbrella, with the Gateway, the crowded transports and the depot centered at what would be the umbrella's handgrip.

Drummer turned his head and looked at Brad.

"Went off rather well," he said.

"Seems so. That was the easy part. I don't envy you the next."

Drummer touched a switch connecting him to the bridge.

"Captain," he said. "Launch the Dragon. Take your position at the coordinates I gave to you. Activate our comm system to the depot."

The ship shuddered as it shot from the gallery and headed for the concentration of s.p.a.cecraft above Pluto. It slowed as it pa.s.sed through the umbrella formation and stopped fifty kay from the nearest transport.

Time lapse from launch was less than two minutes.

Surprise was complete; the effect, paralyzing.

All movement around the depot slowed to a halt.

The intranet filled with "What the h.e.l.l's going on?", "Who are these guys?", and "Bring on the dancing girls." Then, suddenly, the channels blanked, replaced by silence.

Drummer keyed his microphone open and handed it to Brad.

Brad took on a harsh tone.

"Attention: Commander of Slingshot Logistics Depot and Masters of all vessels, inside or outside the Fandango Force Field. The national interests of the Government of Planet Pluto demands compliance with Plutonian laws by all persons and properties within its jurisdiction. You and your vessels and the Logistics Depot are in Plutonian territory, therefore, our laws apply to you.