Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

Ram entered the Log Depot's conventional communications center and nodded to the young operator.

"Make the contact," he said, adding, "Relay the message through one of the transports; delete all references that show this facility is in the loop."

Switches snapped as the operator nodded. His hands sped across the keypad. A few moments passed and his voice issued as an electronic whisper.

"Calling Planet Pluto Comm Center. This is the UIPS
Transport Akiba, Call Sign 943 dash 792. We have a
Priority One message for your government. Stand by
to record. Acknowledge."

A slight crackle.

"This is Planet Pluto Comm Center to Call Sign 943 dash 792. We are ready to record. Go ahead."

Ram drew a small plastic card from the breast pocket of his tunic and handed it to the operator. Without glancing at the card the operator slipped it into a slot in the console. A light on the panel blinked on and off and the card ejected. The operator returned it to Ram with a single motion and a smile.

"Message dispatched, sir."

##

Narval pushed the message aside and away. Face flushed in anger, he stared at Drummer.

"What do you make of it?"

"The message is less than straightforward, Mr. President," Drummer replied. "Ambassador Xindral seemingly appeals for an audience with you to discuss matters of interest to both his government and ours. The suggested agenda it carries, however, puts us on the defensive with barely room for reasoning with his government. He asks for a guarantee of safe conduct. As a legally constituted government in a community of nations, and in the absence of, shall we say, formal military hostilities, such a request is not only unnecessary, it is an affront. I suspect, Mr. President, that the Ambassador's motives are to place you at a disadvantage."

"I agree."

"His distrust of us is evident in the manner in which the message was routed. Transmitted from a cargo transporter off the depot's force field, no less. His personal vessel must be somewhere in the pack up there, but he obviously intends to keep it hidden. Very unseemly for a formal visit by an Ambassador."

"Your recommendations?"

Drummer paused, and spoke slowly, carefully.

"Consider the facts: his tour of the Outer Region was preceded by a personal message from Camari to Chiefs of State. He has had audiences with INOR Presidents or Ministers. They have informed you of their replies to his appeals. Those who declined to meet with him took the course they did because they had nothing to add to what had already been stated by the others.

"Because of your initiatives, President Narval, you are central among the INOR leaders in pressing the issues between the Regions. Refusing to see him may be interpreted by our colleagues in INOR as a lack of conviction in our cause, or even as weakness. My recommendation is that you see him, but manipulate the discussions to give our rights dominance. Insofar as 'safe conduct', I suggest we ignore the insult, grant him permission to visit our planet, and wish him a pleasant stay."

Narval drummed on the desk, pushed at the message again, and shifted about. He was uncomfortable.

"I'll think about it, Drummer," he said. "Meanwhile, extend the invitation, set up suitable quarters for him away from our official guest house, meet him when he arrives, and so on. Have him stand by. When I decide on the approach to the discussions, I'll let you know whether I'll meet with him."

##

"Well, Scarf, have you finished reading that thing?" Narval impatiently bit a fingernail.

"Yessir, Mr. President."

"Well?"

"Sir?"

"What the hell do you mean by 'sir'? I asked for your opinion, dammit."

"Well, sir, he asks for an audience with you…"

Narval sighed. "Don't just repeat the message,
Scarf. Tell me what you know of this man."

Scarf's face lost its embarrassed flush and he hastily pulled a reader device from his pocket. Striking a series of keys, Scarf peered closely at the screen. He pointed to the reader as verification for his words.

"Ambassador Xindral is a senior Intelligence Officer assigned to Slingshot. That's about all we've got on him. Definitely not a run-of-the-mill diplomatic type."

"That's what concerns me, Scarf. I'm highly suspicious of his motives even if Camari did notify us in advance. Intelligence officer, indeed. If he becomes aware of our preparations and reports back, our plans will be jeopardized. Drummer wants me to see him. I don't want to be in the same room with this person. Yet I can't refuse without losing face. Now, get me out of this, Scarf."

"How far can I go, Mr. President?"

"As far as you like, just keep me out of it."

Scarf rubbed his beefy jaw reflectively, then grinned.

"I have reason to suspect, Mr. President, that this known UIPS intelligence officer is using an Ambassadorial cover for purposes harmful to Planet Pluto's internal security. How's that for starters, sir?"

Narval's eyes gleamed with sudden craft.

"Go on," he said.

"His ostensible mission to meet with the President of Planet Pluto is, in actuality, a guise under which he intends to meet with dissident elements among our people. His real mission is to subvert and undermine the foundations of our government. In other words, his coming here is to disrupt. He should be dealt with according to the rules of his own game, and not those of normal interplanetary or interregional diplomacy."

"Explain."

"Agents that conduct a mission such as his are expendable, Mr. President. There are no rules."

"Repercussions?"

"Whatever happens to him will be outside accepted protocols, and will occur prior to his arrival at the President's Official Residence. The incident will result from initiatives taken by the UIPS Ambassador, himself. The Government of Planet Pluto will not be involved."

"Very well, Scarf. I leave it to you."

##

"Hodak," Brad motioned him forward. "I want you to show me the new power pack for the cruiser being overhauled in tunnel 3. Where is it?"

Hodak glanced at Brad, then away.

"It's still in the shop near the north side of the dome. Take us a few minutes to get there."

"OK, let's go."

Leaving the cubicle that served as office they boarded the strip. Standing close, they spoke through unmoving lips.

"Ram's here."

"In Coldfield?"

"Not yet, but soon."

"What's up?"

"He's to see Narval. His job is to try to work out an agreement that'll keep Slingshot construction moving along."

"How'd you find out?"

"Drummer mentioned it to me in passing. He's arranging a meeting between Narval and Ram."

"Has the time been set?"

"Not yet. Drummer's waiting for the go ahead from
Narval."

"You mean Narval isn't sure he wants to meet Ram?"

"Suspicious, isn't it?"

"Damn right."

Their eyes met and moved on to the passing scene.

"If there's to be an incident," Brad asked, "who'll be setting it up?"

"Scarf, who else?"

"Soon as I hear when Ram's due and where he's to be lodged, I'll get back to you. For as long as he's on Planet Pluto your job is to keep him out of harm's way."

Chapter TWENTY-NINE

Entering the Charnel Pit, Ram scanned the tavern. An empty table beckoned, and he folded his long frame onto its stool and delicately leaned an elbow on the least filthy spot of the scarred surface. Shifting his body slightly, he observed the milling crowd with frequent glances toward the entry.

Garbed in earth-toned street clothes, he had just left his room at the Condor, his mind on Drummer. Their meeting at the landing pad had been proper and courteous, with no attempts at prying, either way. Confining themselves to amenities, they spoke of tedious space jumps, the quality of accommodations in various parts of the system, and generalities on a better life for humankind from a benevolent Slingshot.

Drummer had taken leave following Ram's inspecting his lodgings at the Condor and shrugging them acceptable under the circumstances. Departing, Drummer informed Ram that he would call for him or send an escort as soon as a suitable time for his meeting could be arranged with President Narval. Ram expressed his trust that the meeting would be soon and productive.

As his eyes accustomed to the bar-room's smoke-diffused lighting the harsh faces of the jostling crowd emerged. A frontier, indeed, he mused. Satisfied that he drew no untoward attention, he glanced once more toward the door and signaled a robo-dispenser.

A face drifted past, paused for the briefest moment, and moved on. It was enough. Ram gave no outward sign, but felt less alone. Hodak ambled to the bar, where the drinkers greeted him and jovially made room. An hour and several drinks slipped by. Hodak and Ram ignored each other.

A small man in a nondescript tunic sidled up Ram's table.

"Xindral?" He wheezed.

Ram glanced at him and away. He remained silent.

"I have a message for Ram Xindral."

"Give it."

"If you're Xindral, the person you're here to see prefers to meet with you away from his normal place of business. I am to guide you to the meeting. Follow me."

"Name the man who sent you?"

"Drummer."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

"He is with his superior at the meeting place."

Ram was suspicious. It could be a trap. On the other hand, it was not unreasonable that Narval might want to meet away from the formal seat of government. His options were limited. If Drummer had really sent the message, and he refused the escort, the meeting with Narval would be off to a bad start, perhaps canceled.

The messenger stood by, subservient, waiting. Ram brought his hands to his forehead as if deliberating a decision, and gently rubbed his temple to cover a flashing glance at Hodak. Hodak subtly acknowledged the sign.

"Be with you as soon as I finish my drink," Ram said.

Taking a sip, he placed the goblet on the table and began to fish about in his tunic pockets, clumsy and time-consuming. Finally, he rose slowly, towering over the small man.

"Lead on," he said.

Alarms shrilled in Hodak's mind as he recognized the person speaking with Ram. What were Scarf's stooge and Ram discussing? Ram's mission to Planet Pluto was clearly diplomatic and entirely Drummer's show. Drummer would not have knowingly accepted Scarf's involvement in the proceedings.

Ram's surreptitious glance in his direction and deliberate clumsy hesitation imparted doubts concerning his predicament. Hodak stretched, quickly finished his drink, paid his tab, and slapped drinking partners' shoulders good-bye. He sauntered toward the door, left the bar-room and, outside, turned away as Ram and his escort emerged and moved off. Hodak turned casually to observe.

A man in a dark tunic slipped out from a shadow along the wall and followed behind Ram. Another trailed further behind. As Hodak watched, two more moved out of an alley and took positions ahead of Ram and his escort. Ram was boxed.

Hodak followed, barely close enough to distinguish
Ram's swaying form in the street crowds.

Ram's guide moved toward a break in the wall and motioned Ram to follow. Hodak saw Ram hesitate, speak harshly, and draw back. He was too late. The others closed in and pushed him forward. Ram stumbled, tripped, fell, tried to rise. Arms whipped about and he stayed down. The four lifted and dragged him through the breach. The fifth waited until they disappeared and darted away. It had happened fast.

Direct intervention on his part, Hodak realized, would be extremely hazardous. Recognition would instantly compromise the Sentinel mission. He had to help Ram in a way that would not disclose his own identity.

He slipped silently into the alley.

From up ahead came rumbled curses and harsh laughter; they were sure of themselves.

Hodak's eyes searched the shadows without success except for the grind of boots on stony detritus and the scrape of a weight being dragged. He closed the gap, counting on the procession ignoring their rear.

The sounds muted and stopped. Peering from a recessed slot along the wall he saw Ram's abductors crowd around the entry to an open utility. One of them crawled in and Ram's unconscious form passed to him. The remaining three followed and the cover drawn into place.

Hodak moved swiftly to the entry and pressed his ear against its thick cover. Shifting position and scooping aside loose dirt and pebbles, he pressed his ear first against the ground then back to the cover. Scraping noises from the other side were audible, but diminishing.

The odds were not with him but timing and surprise might even them a bit. Lifting the cover slowly, he felt the texture of the surface and slipped into the dimness beyond. He crouched in the rubble, the faint sounds giving him direction.

The tunnel lights were low and flickering, their sconces widely spaced. It was enough.

Working his way forward along the tunnel, short dashes from one bend to the next, Hodak closed on the laughing, cursing pack. They were close beyond the next bend.

Feeling along the waistband of his tunic, Hodak drew a thin, flat metal strip from the weave. Holding the strip gingerly, he jerked their ends in opposite directions and sensed the sharpness of the blades that instantly snapped outward along both edges. Twisting and turning formed a half-meter long scimitar and bending it slightly along its length added a curve comparable to the ancient Australian boomerang. It was both silent and deadly.

Hodak eased closer to the bend in the tunnel, and snaked his way along the ground until he had a view of the scene ahead.

Ram lay in a heap against one wall, motionless. His captors, facing the opposite wall, were busily examining its surface. Words bounced back along the wall.

"…as good a place as any, huh?"

"Yeah. Let's get this over with and head for the
Blind Pig. I'm thirsty as hell."

"OK, Patch and Swat, you two — start burning the hole. Cut it deep enough so all of him can be shoved in. Leave enough room so we can seal it over with the same dirt. Flume, you start collecting rocks to pack around the body once we get it in place. Then we'll just pack and fuse-seal until it's all smoothed over. This guy'll be riding this ice ball when hell freezes over."

"What're you gonna do, Angel?"

His tone was sarcastic. It brought a snarl in return.

"Scarf put me in charge of this detail, Flume. Remember? So when I tell you to haul rocks, don't fight it." The heavy tone eased. "I was ordered to search the guy. Scarf wants everything from his pockets, and all his clothes, just in case he's got something stashed away. I gotta deliver the stuff as soon as we're done here. My orders are also to mess up the body so it'll never be identified, even if it does get found. So let's get with it."

As Hodak watched, Flume, the rock gatherer moved off down the tunnel. Two of the remaining three drew soil-fusers from a backpack and concentrated on their power settings. The fourth, obviously Angel, turned toward Ram who was beginning to stir.

Seeing Ram's movement, Angel drew his weapon, hefted it, and aimed it at Ram's head. Angel's mouth twisted into a savage grin.

His companions turned from their work to watch.

"Wait. I want him to see it coming," Angel said over his shoulder.

Hodak pressed his fingernail against a pip on the instrument in his hand and felt it vibrate with energy. Thrusting his arm further into the tunnel's bend he hurled the boomerang toward Angel.

The weapon reached its maximum velocity within two meters of the throw. Moving at a speed that made it invisible to the naked eye, it flew silently and true.

The slender implement curved around Angel's neck and, without stopping, completed its return to Hodak's hand.

Angel's head was gone from his shoulders.

The sound of Angel's falling body startled the two staring expectantly at Ram, waiting for the execution shot. Turning, they gaped at what had been Angel. They scrambled in panic to press their backs against the tunnel wall. Dropping the soil-fusers, they drew and waved their weapons about.

One of them shouted, "Flume. Can you hear me,
Flume?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Whatta ya want?"

"Get back here, quick."

Flume came running, took in the scene and joined the other two against the wall. Together, they stared at Angel, then along the tunnel, one direction then the other.

"What the hell's goin' on?"

"How do I know? We didn't hear anything, then the noise of him falling. We looked and there he was and there was his head. We had our eyes on the big guy; couldn'a been him did it."

"What do we do now?"

"Search me."

"Let's get outta here."

"Can't. We gotta finish the job, or Scarf'll burn us alive."

"Then we better stick together from now on," Flume said. "You two finish cutting the hole but now make it deeper. I'll keep watch. Soon as you're ready we'll load 'em in, seal it up with stuff from around here, and scram."

As Hodak watched, Patch and Swat recovered sufficiently to raise their soil-fusers and direct the nozzles at the tunnel's wall.

An amber glow formed on the fuser's tips and the tunnel wall's surface bubbled and flowed toward the floor in the light gravity. Wielding the fusers expertly they distributed its liquefied substance in a rough, irregular pattern, blending it in with the surrounding surfaces. The excess that reached the floor quickly hardened to match the rubble strewn about.

Flume, back against the opposite wall, weapon high and ready, peered tensely about. Finally satisfied, Patch switched off his fuser and tapped Swat on the shoulder. Swat glanced at him, switched off, and they stepped back.

"This'll do it," Patch said. "Load Angel in first.
The back of the hole is too small for the big guy."

He leaned over, grasped the open-eyed head by a hank of hair and flung it into the hole. The head disappeared with a soft thud. Swat joined Patch; each grasped one of the body's arms and legs and they heaved it in after the head. Patch leaned into the hole and pushed the solid flesh as far as it would go. Turning, he motioned Swat toward Ram.

For a moment Flume faced away from Hodak. He did not see the boomerang before it twisted around his throat and was gone.

Intent on Ram, Swat and Patch saw neither the strike nor the weapon. They heard a gurgling sound and whirled. Flume was on the tunnel floor, blood pulsing from the neck of his headless torso. The head, itself, had rolled against the opposite wall, eyes open.

Panicked, they fired frantically down the tunnel in both directions.

The boomerang back in his hand, Hodak waited. An open assault was unacceptable, both for himself and for Ram. He would be cut down with a single sweep of the killers' heavy handguns, and with his identity revealed, Scarf would track down the Sentinels with a vengeance.

Snapping a quick peek he saw Patch and Swat back to back in the middle of the tunnel, facing in opposite directions and whispering to each other in terror. Guessing the distance between the two he extended the boomerang slightly and pressed the pip.

Stepping away from the wall Hodak threw the boomerang around the bend.

One of the targets must have seen it coming.
There was the beginning of a scream.

Boomerang back in hand, Hodak walked around the bend. Patch lay quietly; Swat's body still quivered.

Hodak took less than five minutes to enlarge the hole, load the newly dead in with their companions, and smooth the surface to match the tunnel's wall.

Ram, groggy, sat against the opposite wall and watched.

Chapter THIRTY

The space was little more than two meters across, a vault cut into the side of a tunnel to store construction supplies. It was enough.

Leaving Ram in the dimly lit space to recover, Hodak rushed to an exit, surfaced, took his bearings, and found Brad in his office. Brad immediately sensed the urgency from Hodak's expression.

"Let's get our people together," Brad ordered. Hodak quickly passed the word and, within minutes, the Sentinels convened in an empty air lock.

Myra left for headquarters to cover; the remainder strung out behind Hodak to the subsurface vault where he'd left Ram.

##

"And that's it." Ram finished recapping his trip as he gingerly rubbed the large bruise on his head.

"They're lining up for a confrontation," he said, "both political and military, and Slingshot is the club they'll hold over us. They think they smell the blood of victory, and there isn't a cool head among them."

He turned to Brad.

"Your message was incomplete," he said. "What was left out?"

"Narval's planning guidance on the assault launch point," Brad replied, citing the coordinates, bringing Ram up to date.

They were silent as Ram mulled over his options. Sighing, he rose and stretched his frame, bending slightly to keep his head from scraping against the vault's roof.

"The attack on me must have been approved by Narval," he said. "My feeling is he didn't want to talk to me because his preparations and commitments are too far along. He feared that, had we met, I might get enough from our discussions to see his game plan. I've got to get home — fast." Grinning at Brad, he asked, "OK, how are you going to get me out of this rat's nest and back to my ship?"

##

Narval screeched, face twisted, hands pounding the desk.

"What do you mean, standing there and telling me you've lost track of your people? Not that I give a damn about them, but you gave them a simple job to do, and I want to know, now, where it stands."

"That's just it, Mr. President," Scarf said, his normally ruddy face gray with fear. "I haven't received a 'sitrep' from my agent-in-charge. I did get an interim report from the back-up observer I assigned to track them from the Charnel Pit. According to him, the Ambassador was taken into custody immediately upon leaving the bar. Along the way he resisted and had to be — uh — restrained. Everything looked to be under control, so the observer left to report."

"Tell me precisely what you ordered your agent to do."

"Identify himself as coming from Drummer. Take the Ambassador into custody under the pretext of escorting him to a private meeting with you. While in custody, and without witnesses, Xindral was to be terminated and his body buried in a tunnel. The site was to be returned to its original appearance, and Xindral's possessions brought to me."

"Where is this site located?"

"My agent was to give me the exact location when he delivered the Ambassador's personal effects."

"You mean you don't even know where to start looking? Is that what you're saying?"

"I know the location where they took him down. Well, I got a problem there too; the subsurface junction branches off in several directions."

"Is it possible Xindral overcame his restraints and neutralized your team?"

"Not likely, sir. The observer said he saw sufficient force used against Xindral when he resisted to render him unconscious."

Narval sank back into his chair, head lowered, staring into his lap. Raising his head, he fixed burning eyes on Scarf.

"Despite your assurances, Scarf, I think it not only possible, but likely, that Xindral got away from your team. For all you know, your goons may be in hiding, afraid to face you with the truth. If Xindral's still alive, he must have concluded by now that the attempt against him would not have occurred without my approval. So, we're committed, and I can't afford to wait."

He pointed a shaking finger at Scarf.

"Xindral can leave Coldfield only through an air lock. Post extra guards. Deploy patrols to strips leading to air locks on the perimeter. Mark him as a newly arrived renegade, a killer and genetic flake dangerous to Coldfield's safety. Order your people to take no chances with him; he is to be destroyed on sight. I want Xindral found, and I want him dead. Do it. Now! Move!"

##

Hodak was back from scouting the tunnel up ahead.
The way was clear with an exit a kilometer distant.
The opposite direction would lead them back to the
center of Coldfield.

Brad cocked an eyebrow at Ram. Ram nodded.

Hodak and Kumiko took point, Brad behind Ram. Zolan and Adari rear guard. They covered ground swiftly.

The passageway widened, and a ramp led up to a mezzanine from which other tunnels branched. Ascending the ramp Hodak disappeared into a low, narrow entryway in the wall. The others followed. Ram folded to his knees and went flat to squeeze through. The cut ended abruptly at a rock face. A ladder rose to the dim outline of a manhole.

Kumiko climbed and slipped a slender filament through the tiny gap between the edge of the utility cover and its frame. Below, Zolan inserted the free end of the filament into a clip on the bridge of a pair of goggles, and donned them.

"Up a mite," he called to Kumiko. "OK, hold it, now scan a 360, slow."

He gave the goggles to Brad who donned them and scoped the ground level through the filament.

"The manhole is in a cul-de-sac, closed in on three sides by walls set back about two meters from where we are. The cul-de-sac accesses a street on which traffic is passing. The dome's inside wall is on the far side, and I see some markings on it. Each of you, look about and get your bearings. Speak up if you recognize the area or the markings."

The goggles passed from one to the other. Zolan tossed them up to Kumiko at the top of the ladder and caught them when they were lowered. He handed them to Ram who peered at the ground scene as he listened.

"Strip markings," Adari said. "They're usually located to orient folks coming in from the outside. My guess is we're close to a strip or an air lock."

"Any idea which one?" Brad asked.

"Not from appearances," Adari replied, "but I kept track of our twists and turns to this point, and the way I figure, we're in the western quadrant of the city. The sector has more air locks than the others because it's on the main route to landing pads for the maintenance shops. We've lucked out — maybe."

"What do you mean by 'maybe'? Don't hold back."

"The traffic. More people about."

The silence was heavy.

"If we can make it to an air lock without being challenged," Brad said, "we'll get Ram to a taxi. Hodak, can you rig a taxi to manual control and leave it with enough power for a one-time flight through the depot's cocoon?"

Hodak, Zolan and Adari put their heads together. Ram shoved his head in among them, and vigorous hand motions cut the air. Ram nodded as Hodak turned back to Brad.

"Can do," he said.

"Next item," Brad said. "Ram, can you get your long frame into a standard suit?"

"Once we get into the air lock I'll look for the biggest suit on the rack. Then I'll just have to push, pull and squeeze. Won't be the first time."

Brad looked up at Kumiko, holding the scope in place.

"Got it?" He called up.

"Yep."

"Comments?"

"As long as I'm up here, how about me taking point?"

"OK. Now, all of you. Set weapons at max. If we're seen and tied to Ram, the whole operation is compromised. So we'll have no witnesses. Act accordingly."

Kumiko pushed the manhole lid aside, climbed out and darted forward to where she could see along the street. She took in the scene quickly.

Several people passed on a nearby strip. They did not notice Kumiko. She waited until they passed where they could have seen into the cul-de-sac, then signaled the others up.

As Zolan came abreast of Kumiko he drew a pencil-thin tube from a pocket in his tunic. Holding it in one hand he twisted the knurled knob that formed one end, and returned it to his pocket. He winked at Brad who had come up beside him.

Brad saw the question in Ram's eyes.

"One of Zolan's home-grown gadgets," he said. "Sets up an omni-interference field for a couple of hundred meters. We'll be moving through comm-override chatter until he switches it off."

Then to Kumiko, "Which way?"

"Left. Air lock. Hundred meters." She crouched and darted away.

"Ram, stoop, bend, whatever it takes to shrink.
Stay close to the wall for as long as you can.
Everyone keep a few meters apart. Hodak, you stay
close to Ram and watch the rear. OK, let's do it."

Two burly men came around the end of a nearby structure, stopped, stared at Ram as he rose through the manhole, and then at each other. Zolan caught both in a conical burst as they backed away. They fell in silence.

Hodak and Zolan dashed forward. Each grasped a set of ankles, hauled the bodies into the cul-de-sac and dumped them down the utility hole.

Brad took a quick look in both directions and nudged Adari.

"Go," he said.

Kumiko was at the air lock. Brad, Hodak and Ram were well away from the cul-de-sac. Kumiko stepped into the enclosure containing the suit racks, her weapon up and level, safety off, finger a tiny space from the trigger.

Two guards, sitting on a bench, rifles across their thighs, gaped at her.

"What the hell," one of them yawped, raising his rifle.

The other guard flipped the switch on a hand-held transmitter and started to raise it to his lips. Kumiko cut them down with a single sweep. She raced up and across the long room, checking alcoves, corridors and behind suit racks. Empty.

Ram entered, quickly followed by the others. Hodak remained at the door, alert for intruders. Adari moved across to the keypad control for the outer air lock, and peered through the visi-screen. She thumbed up.

Ram rummaged hastily among the space suits on the rack. Adari left her position, grabbed a suit and worked herself into it. Brad, Kumiko and Zolan were halfway into theirs. Zolan moved to the outer door. Hodak, suited up, called to Ram, who hurried over.

"Here's one you might squeeze into. C'mere, give it a try."

Ram looked distastefully at the suit. "Well," he muttered, "that's what happens to a giant among pygmies. I couldn't find anything bigger than what you've come up with. Give a hand here."

Adari joined them. Together, she and Hodak shoehorned Ram into the suit and closed the seals. Helmets fitted, they ran quickly through air tank and suit connections security and pressure checks. Minutes later they were ready for departure.

Brad motioned Kumiko closer, and they opened their faceplates.

"Stay here until we return," Brad instructed, "but keep your suit on. Now that we're all wearing suits we can't be identified. So, if you get innocent visitors, just incapacitate them. If anyone comes looking for a fight, don't wait for an invitation."

Kumiko nodded and closed her faceplate. Weapon in hand, she took up a position where she would not be seen from the entryway.

Brad lumbered to the air lock and, a moment later, the panel to the buffer space slipped aside. Gesturing Ram, Zolan, Hodak and Adari through, he stepped after them and closed and dogged the panel leading back into the dome. He lifted the safety cover and pressed a wall plate. With a swish of escaping air, the outer doors slid up. They stepped out.

##

A dozen taxis and space tugs were scattered about on the ramp. Choosing the taxi most distant from the others Zolan beckoned Hodak and Adari to follow him. Moving as quickly as their suits and the light gravity would allow, they reached the taxi and climbed aboard. Brad and Ram brought up the rear, turning often to watch other suited people moving about. A ramp guard was some distance away, gesturing among a knot of people. The Sentinels remained unnoticed.

Reaching the taxi, Zolan and Hodak began to adjust its controls, vector and power instruments. Adari's helmet filled in the pilot position. Raising her glove she beckoned frantically to Ram. He climbed in beside her. Her hand on his helmet she spoke rapidly, pointing at the instrument panel.

Brad watched Adari move back and out as Ram moved into the seat she vacated. Bending forward, her helmet touched Ram's as her gloved hands pointed to where the depot was visible. She slapped Ram on the shoulder and stepped back.

The jerry-rigged taxi rose slowly at first, gained speed and disappeared into the backdrop of black velvet and stars.

Chapter THIRTY-ONE

Camari strode into the Conference Room, took his seat at the head of the long table, and stared bleakly at his advisors. The faces of the Ministers of Diplomatic Protocols and Intelligence were grim; the Commander of the Space Forces ready to explode.

"I suppose you've all studied Ram's report," Camari said in a low, angry voice. "What do you think? Selvin?"

"If they take the depot," Admiral Selvin said, "we're out of business. Even if we get the depot back undamaged, we'll be unable to make up the time lost. The construction and launch schedules are that tight."

"What do you suggest?"

"Stop them — now."

"They'll know we're coming when our fleet lines up to enter the spunnel. The gateway can handle our military craft, no problem there. What we cannot count on is INOR's failing to see us on the move."

"How do we get around that?"

"Diversionary tactics; draw their attention to a major initiative on our part in which all of INOR has role vital to its interests, if not survival. Risky, but we have no choice."

The Strategic Concepts Computer recorded, analyzed, and reported. They listened, then talked.

##

The Solar Spunnel Communications Control flashed a Category One Alert across the system. The Alert was directed to all planets, satellites, stations, outposts, and all ships in space from Mercury to deep within the Oort Cloud far beyond the Slingshot construction sites.

Rymer Camari, President of the United Inner Planetary System wished to address the citizens of all nations on a matter of extreme urgency, one that affects humankind throughout the entire Solar System. The INOR Chiefs of State were urged to convene their Executive and Legislative Councils and to listen to the UIPS President.

Interplanetary comm-spunnel boosters were raised to maximum power and range. The added power cleared Camari's image and speech for override into all open aud-viz transmitters and receivers throughout the system.

When Camari's features formed in view tanks or on screens his manner was grave, and his tone solemn and deliberate. The message was brief.

"Greetings to all citizens and Governments of our Solar Community," he began. "We wish you well. I have chosen this time and this means to speak to you directly because the threat to all of use is real and our peril increases by the hour. Unless we act immediately and in concert, disaster will befall us all.

"Not long ago two of our manned recon craft were attacked and destroyed near Planet Pluto. These ships were part of a small protective force that the UIPS maintains in the Plutonian Special Zone for the safety of the Slingshot terminals and its logistics depot.

"The Government of Planet Pluto has been familiar with the patrollers' mission to protect Slingshot assets in the Construction Zone since the Program was in its early planning stages. In these latest operations, one of our patrols was known to be scouting the Plutonian outback for subsurface tunnels and galleries where unscrupulous adventurers sneak off to hide after preying on our outposts and transports. The other UIPS patroller had identified a cache of contraband weapons in space that presented a clear threat to Slingshot.

"The attack on the two UIPS ships could not have occurred without the prior knowledge, approval and very likely, the direct orders from the highest authorities in the Plutonian Government."

The President sat forward in his chair and his face loomed larger across the system. His voice lowered, and increased its intensity.

"We cannot consider these incidents in isolation. Our transports to the Slingshot depot and construction site are being raided and harassed by terrorists and pirates who are directed by and provided sanctuary by both official and non-official entities. We are compelled to conclude that INOR criminal adventurers and pirates act in the context of agreements among their Governments. Doing so constitutes direct military and economic warfare against the UIPS and is an attempt to sabotage the Slingshot mission.

"I must tell you now we are outraged by this conspiracy and these attacks. The UIPS does have recourse. It can respond in kind.

"What then? Warships carrying weapons of unprecedented destructive power are at the ready in both regions. Have we no choice but to keep escalating provocation, sneak attacks and reprisals until our full military fleets are unleashed in their fury against each other? If we get to this, citizens of INOR, do not rule out reprisals on your encapsulated communities. Be aware: history clearly shows us that there are indeed few, if any, real sanctuaries for civilian populations in times of war."

He paused to let the words sink in. His voice became crisp and forceful.

"I am now faced with this decision: Should the UIPS retaliate against Planet Pluto and all other members of INOR that interfere with innocent passage of our transports to and from the Slingshot sites?

"That is one course open to us; it would bring death and havoc all across this star system we know as our home. We must look to alternatives. The creators and wielders of weapons must demonstrate reason along with valor. War, in any form and at any level, is a blind evasion of the real problems that confront humankind.

"When the old United Planetary System was replaced by the UIPS and INOR, the relationships among governments and peoples deteriorated. We drifted apart. The few interregional agreements that did evolve supported special interests. Once ingrained, they became acceptable, even generally attractive, practices. Now we each have our spheres of influence, and we guard them jealously — and often with apprehension.

"There remains, to this day, a deep distrust and fear that one nation or independent colony, or any collective, will attempt to secure advantage over another. Each of us, focused on our own interests, sees the danger and seeks to avoid being its victim. This infectious distrust and fear must be cleansed from our system-wide community of nations if we are ever to live in peace with each other.

"Misunderstandings have arisen over the centuries concerning the intentions for Slingshot facilities and personnel in place throughout what has now become INOR territories or jurisdictions. We accept our share of blame for these misconceptions. Let us dispel them.

"The Collector Terminal, as you all know, will be disengaged upon completion and take its position on the system's rim. When the launch window opens, and it will be open to us for only a very brief time, the Extractor must depart — there will be no second chance for several centuries. The Extractor must fly as fast and as true as the missile did from the sling of David to the head of Goliath. The Extractor is our missile, Alpha Centauri is our target and, as David's leather sling was the instrument to save an ancient civilization. The orbit of Planet Pluto powers the sling that will save our civilizations for the ages which extend before us, but only if we act in unity.

"What happens afterward? When the Extractor has departed, we will no longer need the logistics depot, and UIPS citizens in the Zone will return home. All but a small portion of our facilities, equipment, and supplies will be transferred on site to the Plutonian Government or INOR generally. Whatever is not wanted by its new owners we will remove and help Planet Pluto to convert and reconstruct Coldfield and the rest of the planet to fit the needs of its citizens. We will provide material support and training for transition to an infrastructure and administration of Pluto's choice. We invite all of INOR to share in this task."

Camari leaned back for a short pause. His eyes looked beseechingly at his unseen audience. His voice softened.

"That was the past and, admittedly, a poor foundation upon which to build; let us now look to a more positive future. I make this proposal to all Governments of our star system, the common heritage of humankind.

"We are in disarray. As history has demonstrated time and again there are no real winners in contests of military might, to the contrary. Our response to the incidents off Planet Pluto is that we reject reprisal merely for vengeance, or for imposing ourselves on the Plutonian people. In the same vein, we reject war against any Government within INOR. Not because we cannot wage war, but because war would annihilate cities and lives on both sides. Further, Slingshot would be lost to us, and ultimately, the entire solar civilization would wane and disappear.

"I propose we meet in space, along the border between our Regions at a place of mutual agreement. Let us convene as equals to examine our differences. We must give greater credence to each other's needs and aspirations and arrive at consensus on sharing in the responsibilities for this, our family of planets and satellites. Let us search for ways to combine our diverse interests into a new and majestic pioneering spirit for the great leap to the stars yet to come.

"This is the challenge and the opportunity."