For now, he would maintain a cordon and hope the High Council would agree to give him the help he needed. As far as the president and the Pazian Militia were concerned, he thought the chances of getting anything from them were pretty slim. They wouldn't act until they were sure their offices were in jeopardy, and then only if it looked like some political advantage might be in the offing.
“Apps One, this is Central."
It was Sax, maybe with the information he wanted.
“Go ahead, Sax."
“What the hell happened out there? Fire One and Two just tore out of here headed your way."
“A fire, Sax. You have what I wanted?"
“Yes, sir, and it's pretty strange. Want a copy?"
“Yeah. I have a chip in, but go ahead and give me a verbal synopsis."
“All three groups became recognized entities between one-ninety-seven and two-oh-one.” Sax paused while he scrolled more material up on his monitor. “Now, here comes the weird part. All three groups are made up of seed lot numbers broken up into—"
“Wait a minute,” Harko broke in. “Let me guess. They're divided into three sets of eight lots."
“Not quite, boss, but close. It's three sets of four, but that's not as strange as this; everybody assumed all the categories were made up of the same number of lots, something like Alpha one through twenty-four, and that's true for all categories but Delta. The only Delta lot on Paz was Delta three.
“Now, get this—I really had to dig for this stuff—there was only one Delta Ancient, Delta Three dash two-eighty-one. The accepted story has always been that the shuttle carrying the Delta lots crashed, which is why there was only one surviving seed line. Not true. That Ancient was brought down here all by itself on its own shuttle with a special group of the Fathers."
“Why?” Harko interjected. “Why was it brought down alone?"
“I was coming to that. We don't know. That part of the Ancient Record was edited out. Wiped clean. There's no other mention of it anywhere, and I've scanned it every way I can. Nothing. I've even checked all the archival material, including folk tales and the like. It's as if they didn't want anyone to have that information."
“Okay, we'll go over that, later. What else?"
“Here's the juicy stuff, Chief. You wanted to know who the original organizers were, right?"
“Yeah, Sax. Do it, damn it."
“The Twelve Points of Light was easy. They never tried to cover up. They did change, but I'll tell you about that in a minute. Anyway, the founder was Katrina Del Antaris. She's a Gamma One.
“I think you'd better find a secure place to sit for the next two. First, the originator of the Paz Cadre is one General Bagdel Frank, the leader of both the Cadre and the High Council Guard. The original—"
“What?” Harko interrupted. “Frank is Paz Cadre? You'd better be damned sure of that."
“You know me, Chief. I'm the best records research man around. Yes, I'm sure. It was almost impossible to find, but he missed a marker set. Four years ago a guy named Arcturo Lang was treated for burns in the Outlands of Linken. The hospital there wasn't tied into the Council's system then, so nobody checked on him. We've known Lang was running the Cadre, so I looked into the details of the injury—same name, you know—anyway, I was looking for Arcturo Lang, but I came up with Bagdel Frank's gencode. It was a perfect match."
“Damn it. That means the Cadre knows everything we do every time we contact the Council."
“It's worse than that, boss. It's not one ranking official—it's two. I saved the best for last. The two of them are working against one another, and neither of them knows it. Everyone thought that Lon Su was the founder of the Twelfth Generation, and we were all wrong on that one, too. A man calling himself Kan Haber was the original Generation man who disappeared early in their history and was replaced by Lon Su. I followed up on this Haber guy and verified he was a real person, but there was something not quite right. Kan Haber was an Epsilon Two.
“I dug deeper and found the real Kan Haber disappeared on a trip to New London. Vanished. Not a thing about him showed up in the record anywhere, but his onners were being well taken care of. Good onners house, best schools, food, clothes and all. So, I chased down the financial record and came up with the Lawmaker In Council, Dathan Vagnu—known now as the Guardian of Law Vagnu of the High Council. I didn't find any evidence, but I think the GoL Vagnu is the reason Mr. Haber is no longer with us and that he used Mr. Haber's name during the early days of the Generation. Vagnu's a Gamma Nine, which fits the profile perfectly. Su was a Twelve. A little more checking put our Vagnu in all the right places at the right times since year two hundred. Oh, I forgot—Frank's a Gamma Five.
"All the members of these groups that we have records on are twelfth-generation Pazian, counting from their Ancients. Boss—it's almost as if someone flipped a switch."
“Yeah. That may be exactly what's happened, Sax. You said something about the Twelve Points of Light changing. What was that about?"
“Oh, sorry. When Katrina Del Antaris started holding meetings, they were focused on a cultural, moral, and intellectual renaissance. She was promoting the idea that Paz was entering a time of change and that there was a general moral and ethical decline in our society. You know, untracs and stuff like that. She said a new order was coming and that it was time for the people to be prepared. A year later, she built the cult thing it is now. That happened right after some indignant citizens burned one of their meeting halls and some of her people were attacked at another gathering. That's the meat of it—the boring details are on your chip."
“Good, Sax. Thanks for your usual thoroughness. I have plenty to think about."
“Like the sign on the door says, we're here to serve. Central out."
'Plenty to think about’ was an understatement. Two of the worst were high and powerful—in positions where they could do terrible things to his society, the one Harko was pledged to protect, and he was watching a couple of women who could conceivably do some good. Where was the sense in that?
“Central, this is One."
“Central."
“I'm closing down this operation. Recall the air patrols for duty in the city, and I'll take care of the ground assignments on this end. One out."
Harko rounded up the two sergeants and laid out the revised plan. He would leave three men on duty at the museum twenty-two hours around the clock and hold a ready team at the East End station in case anything happened at the complex. He couldn't see any reason for a larger presence. After all, if they decided to move the shuttle there wasn't a damned thing Harko and his men could do but watch it go.
The fire teams finished their work in the museum, and Harko made his obligatory tour of the damage, then signed off the record so they could go home. It was a mess, but the actual damage was not bad, considering what had happened. The holes in the walls were about half a meter in diameter and smooth as glass—of course everything between the two walls had similar holes burned through. The raw power of that laser was something he would not soon forget, orders of magnitude hotter than anything he'd seen on Paz.
Looking through the upper level window of the museum at the shuttle, Harko could see the two women talking calmly and laughing in the security of the forward compartment of shuttle number twenty-three. Harko couldn't touch them—and they knew it.
I wonder what's going on in their minds—and what's in those boxes?
* * *
Chapter XX
Vegamtu's glaring white brilliance, haloed, diffused, and subdued to a soft, iron gray by a dense layer of ice crystals suspended in the upper atmosphere, gave the frost-encased trees a grotesque, surrealistic appearance. They reached upward in twisted agony like so many black skeletons. The large and lazy moon, sharing nearly the same position as Vegamtu in the glistening steel of the night sky, was hardly competition for the minus-nine magnitude star, Almug's dull orange appeared to be more like a discolored smudge of rusty shadow than a warm glow.
Through the dry, brittle brush covering the ground among the trees a small band of men advanced cautiously toward the eastern wall of the museum. Luto raised the SED to his eyes and signaled them to stop.
“I count three, Niki, but there may be more. There's one at the south wall, one at the north, and another hanging around in the docks. Can't see what's happening on the west side, so I don't know if he's the only one."
“Think we can get this hook up to the top of the building? It's a good twenty-five meters to the lower ledge. The whole thing is set-shell, so if we can get a prong to dig in anywhere it should hold well enough to get us over the wall."
“Yeah, well-l-l—who's going to toss it?"
Niki thought of himself as strong, certainly stronger than the average Pazian because of his years diving for and fighting the powerful fish of the Southern Sea, but Luto's strength was easily double his own.
“Why, you, of course."
“Thanks a lot. You know if I don't get it up there on the first try, this is going to make one hell of a racket when it hits the ground and they'll be on us in a second."
“Then you'll have to be sure it sets the first time—unless you can think of some other way."
“No other way I can see."
“Then, it's a chance we have to take."
Luto gained the eastern wall without being seen, took the heavy grapnel in one hand and gave the rope about a meter of slack, then grasped the coiled remainder loosely in the other. He let the hook drop to the end of the slack line and began to twirl it in a vertical circle, slowly at first, then faster and faster with each revolution. Niki kept the SED trained on Luto—he held his breath. Luto took one step back and heaved upward with all his strength. It went up in a graceful arc, cleared the top of the wall with but two centimeters to spare and landed with a clank that Niki was sure would bring the Enforcement people running. Niki sprang from the brush and rushed to Luto's side, and they put all their weight on the line. It caught, gave way, caught again, slipped a little, then sank in.
Luto grasped the rope, put his foot against the wall and began climbing. Niki watched nervously until his friend vanished over the top of the building, then motioned the others in from the border of grisly trees. Niki was the last up to the roof. From there he could see the long, black scar that stood out in bold relief against the shimmering silver of the ice-covered trees to the north that had kept them from driving right into the docks and the hands of the waiting Enforcement men. Something terrible had happened here, and the smoke they had seen billowing from the building only heightened the uneasiness he felt as he hurried to the inner edge of the roof. When the shuttles came into view the SED went automatically to his eyes. Relief flooded him.
Sprawled across three seats, the lithe body of Antaris lay sleeping. Pasha was in the pilot's chair, apparently talking to Twenty-three. Then he became aware of the cold—the cold of Halfyear that gripped him and told him time was running out faster than they were getting things done. The close call at Cafferty had not just delayed them, it had termed one of his friends, and if the gas had lingered in the tunnels a few seconds longer, all of them would have met the same fate. Now they were up against the other two groups, the government, and a schedule that was stretched beyond acceptable limits.
With some abandon the men slid down the line to the interior of the shuttle display, and Luto stood at the bottom, reminding each of them as their feet hit the ground that there were armed Enforcement officers just outside and that most of the doors and windows had been blown out—they wouldn't be safe until sealed inside Twenty-three.
Niki skirted the crumpled wreckage of a Barnet's laser on the catwalk and laid his hand flat against the key pad.
“Access, Twenty-three,” he said quietly.
A soft hiss accompanied the opening of the outer door, and the weary, half-frozen travelers entered the security of the shuttle. The reunion was briefly loud and affectionate, then somber as Niki explained what had happened in the shafts at Cafferty—how Lahk Sing had been termed, and that they had taken the time to bury him before returning to the transport.
While everyone stood around stamping feet and rubbing cold, numbed hands, the two women related their experience with Enforcement and explained in excited tones how the fire, intended to warn Niki's group, had been started with a single blast from one of Twenty-three's weapons.
“Nikisha,” Antaris said. “All the records of Twelve Points are hidden in my home. Is there any chance we can retrieve them?"
“Is it important?"
“Yes. Everything up to the hour before we came out here is in them, including what you told us of the Fathers’ plans and what you discovered about your history."
“Trina, I told you to—"
“I know, I know, but I wanted a record for the new ones to know, to understand, to not be like us—so they would have what we did not."
“All right, Trina. It's done and we can't change it.” Niki thought for a moment, then continued. “I suppose we could get someone on the outside to go for them."
“How?” Pasha asked. “We're trapped in here and this is a machine of the Fathers. There is no link."
“Precisely, love. Twenty-three's a machine of the Fathers, and it was they who gave us what technology we have—or have built on—so it's not beyond imagining that we could use Twenty-three to make the connection we need, right?"
“I am not so sure, Nikisha. There is a big difference between putting a hole through a wall and making a link,” Antaris said.
“Yeah, but our links came from them," Luto said.
“Twenty-three. Is it possible to tap into the local communications system?” Niki asked.
“If it is broadcast omni-directionally or there is a line of sight signal within reasonable proximity, yes, Niki. If it is laser or wire-carried, no."
“All long distance communications are microwave, which means that the connection for the museum is part of that system, Nikisha,” Antaris said.
“Good. Twenty-three, begin searching all signals obtainable."
Signal after signal was sampled and rejected. There were air transports, publics, service people, Law Apps, and all manner of digital automation chatter, but nothing sounded like a link in use until...
“...last night. We found their genetic traces about ninth hour and tracks from one of the upper vents..."
“Is this a signal you wish to investigate?"
“Yes, Twenty-three,” Niki said. “But don't set up to transmit—I want to listen only. If it is split, try to find the other side of the exchange and include it when you find it."
“...and then down to an area off the track to North Coopersland where we found evidence of a small transport having been hidden in the forest. Damn it, General, if we hold off much longer, we'll be in deep trouble here."
“I am aware of that, Tazh—and you are already in considerable trouble. My sources tell me that Enforcement has withdrawn from the museum and there are no aerial units working the area. Three men have been stationed there and they are rotated on six hour shifts so they have an overlap. If you wait until eleventh hour and thirty you'll encounter three, but you'll have to be quick—make sure they don't get out a signal, because there is a ready team at East End that could be there in fifteen minutes."
“I understand. They'll never know what hit them."
“Good. And Tazh, from what I have been told, the others have the weapon. If you can't get into the shuttle, destroy it. We can't afford to have it used against us."
“Understood."
“Forces from Nuperz will be making contact with the rovers at Pelter's Rock at fourteenth hour, and troops from Pel's Field are now deploying along the Vaskez line from the track south to Anderson gorge. It is a few days early—I hope you are happy, Tazh."
“Oh, I am, General Lang. I am indeed."
“By the way, Colonel Tazh, a request for Council aid was submitted by Law Apps and was turned down, so we don't have to worry about t
hat complication. By the time the politicians get off their asses, they will be working for us."
The hiss of a vacant frequency filled the compartment, and the occupants sat in silence, stunned by what they had heard.
“Do you understand what we were just listening to?” Antaris said in a low voice. “That was Paz Cadre—they are preparing an attack—they are going to slaughter a lot of innocent people, starting with those three young men out there,” she said, pointing out the cabin windows. She looked at each of the silent group, then back to Niki. “We cannot allow that to happen, can we?"
“No, Trina. We won't let that happen,” he said with a trace of anger in his voice.
“Twenty-three."
“Yes, Niki."
“Sort back through your scans to the one I told you was Law Apps dispatch and set up to transmit on that frequency."
“Yes, Niki. Transmit ready."
“Dispatch, this is shuttle Twenty-three."
“Central dispatch,” a startled, slightly nasal-sounding female voice replied. “Who is this and what are you doing on a restricted frequency?"
“Never mind that. I need to speak with the man who was in charge of the museum detail today. Just tell him the people in the shuttle want to talk to him and that we will be waiting for his response on this frequency—and tell him it's urgent."
“This frequency is restricted to Dispatch Traffic Control. Investigators do not use this frequency, sir."
Niki didn't respond.
“Sir? Are you there, sir?"
“Volume to minimum, Twenty-three, and alert us when someone calls for shuttle Twenty-three."
* * * *
It was eighth hour twenty when Harko realized he hadn't rerouted the team from Astro and that they would be at the museum in a few minutes. He poked at the com.
“Communications."
“There's an air transport on its way to the museum from Nuperz Astro. Get hold of them and tell them to come directly to Central—and send Wills and Marsey over to meet them."
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