"And what makes you think we have a year to give you proving our trustworthiness?"
Bicek shrugged.
"As you observed, captain, space is full of piss-poor starports, and a ship like yours needs regular maintenance. Our facilities aren't available to just anyone, of course, and consider the other advantages of access to our cargo brokers and cargoes specially targeted to the needs of local customers."
Like crunch guns, Coeur thought, pushing to the rear of her mind the stories she'd heard about the horrible wounds such weapons had already inflicted on Coalition SAC missions.
"The membership fee," Physic said. "How much?"
"Nominal," Bicek said. "And I've even be willing to waive it if you considered selling your cargo here on Sauler. Believe it or not, there is a profitable market in biological commodities here, and that could save you a long trip to Shenk."
Coeur and Physic looked at each other, and nodded.
"That could be good," Coeur said, after a moment. "Although we'd like to look around the port, and talk to some of your other members before we sign anything."
"Absolutely, I would insist."
"Well, then," Coeur said, rising abruptly with Physic, "we'll be back in touch."
"I shall look forward to it," Bicek said, rising to shake both their hands.
"Good day, sir," Physic said, letting Coeur precede her to the door and following her out through it.
It was not until they were well clear of the building, across the bridge and passing an empty warehouse, that Physic made a comment.
"I knew we should've brought Serene with us,"
"I hear that. Three meters away from a head full of answers, and no way in."
"You know," Physic said, "we don't have much time. Scissor is all right now, but his antibody count is already beginning to drop. I think he's on the verge of full-blown symptoms." "And then how long?" "A week—at most." Coeur frowned.
"Not that he shouldn't have come," Physic said. "It's just that we may have less time here than we'd like." "Sounds like our epitaph: 'They had less time than they thought'." Physic laughed, feebly.
"Come on, Doc, let's go look for the others. The more noses we have to the ground in this place, the better."
In his office, a moment after Couer and Physic departed, Oskar Bicek heard a door open and turned around before he quite had a chance to return to his seat.
"I waited until your guests were gone," Vega Zorn said. "I thought it would've been awkward to walk in while you were being charming."
"Forget the smart remarks," Bicek said grimly, "You've had time to look over our scans of their ship. Was that far trader the same one that ran you off from Ra?" Zorn's eyebrows rose at that galling remark. "Look here, Bicek. We weren't run off by any free trader. We withdrew when our supply situation prevented us from remaining on station."
"Do forgive the implication," Bicek said. "But is Wasp the vessel you met at Ra?"
"Why don't you answer my question first, Oskar."
"About your pay?"
"About our pay, yes. We've been here three weeks, and it's about time you came through with the goods."
"Indeed it is, captain. One-half tonne of gold and lanthanum bullion is being brought in this very afternoon, just as I indicated it would,"
"Good."
"Not that we're completely satisfied with your performance. Even if it was necessary, I wasn't impressed to hear that you shot off those nukes on Ra."
"I wasn't aware you had so much trouble recruiting agents."
"It's not the agents, Zorn—it's the idea of shooting off nukes inside a viable biosphere. Polluting our future markets is bad business, Zorn."
"Two nukes in the arctic didn't hurt your precious future market, Bicek. Besides, the alternative was letting your men spill the plan—and have the Coalition target your head for a decap raid."
,"l take your point, captain. Now, was that Wasp you met at Ra?"
Zorn waited a long moment before responding.
"Sorry, Bicek, that's not the same far trader. The ship we saw had completely different drive emissions and an unconventional airfoil assembly."
"Damn," Bicek swore. "You're sure?"
"I know what I saw, Bicek. I do like that Francois' attitude toward the squid, though. Fishbait's about all they're good for."
Bicek returned to his seat and sat down, "I'll say one thing for you, Zorn. With that attitude, you were the best one for the job."
"It's nothing personal," she answered, still standing. "I just happen to think that we'll all be a lot better off when the Hiver race is exterminated."
"True," Bicek said. "Without Hiver support, the Coalition will cease to be a major threat to our business operations. Hell, we might even knock off the Star Vikings altogether."
Zorn's answer was an unreadable stare.
"That is what we're after, isn't it, Zorn?"
"just load our pay before nightfall, Bicek," Zorn said, turning to leave. "I have other places to be."
Three hours after they left Bicek, Coeur and Physic finally linked up with Crowbar, Mercy, and Whiz Bang at the star town slave auction, it was, by general consensus, the most disgusting spectacle any of them had ever seen.
Though the auction grounds were south of the Trans- Isthmus Canal, outside the high-security Guild compound, the operation was a pure Guild monopoly, apparently run as much as puerile entertainment for visiting starship crews as a legitimate commercial enterprise. On a startown stage, pathetic manacled Zippers, beaten and drugged into an inhuman stupor, were subjected to the cheers and hoots of a crowd that coughed up between 100 and 1000 credits per individual.
"Behold these fine specimens of Aprapan health and vigor," the seedy auctioneer called out. "Two men, three women, and children—surgically sterilized and mood- altered for maximum work efficiency. Fine for menial work—and trained, an invaluable commodity to any warlord on your trade route. Who will start the bidding for this lot?"
"1300!"
"1350!"
"1400!"
Fortunately, Crowbar, Mercy, and Whiz Bang were observing this show from the back of the crowd, so Coeur and Physic intercepted them quickly and steered them toward a quieter tavern where they could discuss the findings of the morning.
"Makes you wonder," Mercy said over an overpriced drink, "who'd want to buy human wreckage like that?"
"Actually," Coeur said softly, so as not to be overheard by other patrons of the bar, "slaves are a lot like robots were before the Collapse—cheap programmable intelligence, It's obscene, but the economics are very similar."
"Right," Crowbar agreed. "Like the man said, they're cheap manual labor—and if you train 'em, they're a hot commodity for all kinds of customers with technology to maintain."
"Yeah, well, enough with the social psychology," Coeur said. "Have you three learned anything from the locals pertinent to our situation?"
"Not really, except that the whole port's a company town. Trying to buy fuel, contract a broker—hell, every service—is extortion-priced for non-Guild members."
"Go figure. So have you seen Drop Kick and Snapper?"
"Negative," Mercy said. "And Gyro says she lost contact with their personal communicators over two hours ago."
"Oh God," Physic said, "what did they do now?"
"Now, doctor," Coeur said, "it's possible they did that deliberately, for some good reason. Now come on, let's get back to the ship."
The return to Hornet on foot was cut short, however, as Drop Kick and Snapshot intercepted them in the air raft and stopped to take them aboard.
"Sorry we went off the air," Drop Kick explained from the pilot's seat, as his mates piled into the vehicle, "but we were trying not to attract any attention,"
"How the hell could you keep from attracting attention?" Crowbar asked, scrunched up in the cargo compartment at the rear. "The city's only 10 square kilometers."
"Actually," Snapshot said, "we sort of flew outside the municipal sector."
"You did what?" Coeur asked.
"Before you bite anyone's head off, skipper," Drop Kick said, turning around to look at Coeur behind him, "there was a good reason. A few hours back we noticed some unusual grav traffic heading north from the city—a grav belt and an armed G-carrier. Since there weren't any cities in that direction, we went ahead and slipped past the sensor net to see where they were going.
"You see, we noticed something really unusual about the security around the port. A zone as large as this must have at least a battalion-strength police and security force, but it's almost entirely centered around the Port Authority and the private docks adjacent to it. As long as you keep low and slow, it's very easy to slip the municipal perimeter."
"Good info," Coeur said, "but what about the air rafts? Where were they headed?"
"Couldn't tell," Snapshot said. "An attack speeder made us go to ground before we could get close enough to see. We do know something, though: Both the grav bike and the G-carrier disappeared behind Dead Man's Bluff and didn't come out again."
"Wait a minute' Coeur said. "Were you spotted?"
"Negative. We saw the speeder early enough to get cover. But we did record a scrap of conversation between the pilot and the system-defense command, if you want to hear that."
"Play it," Coeur said.
"There is an acronym in the recording we couldn't figure out," Snapshot said, fiddling with the digital playback controls between herself and Drop Kick. "But maybe one of you can figure it out."
A moment later, the forward console speakers exploded with static, shot through with coherent scraps of speech.
"...Black Sear to ESCOM,,, coming upon Point WBX..."
"...Roger, Black Bear, .see anything...?"
"...negative, ESCOM, we're all clear here. Turning for home..,"
The message then looped, playing again, before Snapshot stopped it.
"It could be a PDM site," Mercy ventured.
"Or a troop bunker," said Crowbar, "No," Physic said suddenly, "it's worse than that."
"What do you mean?" Coeur asked.
"I thought you might know, Red Sun," the doctor said, "since you lived back then."
"What?"
"WBX was an INI designation for Black War munitions."
Well after local night had fallen on Sauler Downport, a contra-grav broomstick and two grav belts dashed through a weak point in the city's perimeter sensors and then dove into a shallow gulley. There the two broomstick riders waited while their companions searched the perimeter for other traffic, then returned to the air as a group a moment later.
Wearing IR/LA goggles as she steered from the front seat of the broomstick, Coeur thanked her luck that Sauler had no moon to highlight herself and Physic, since the broomstick, had no armor and very little frame to speak of. In their battle dress, Drop Kick and Bonzo could take ground fire better, but the ducted fans and batteries of their grav belts were no more resistant to bullets than the machinery of the Arses' broomstick, 3nd they likewise followed a low, slow flight profile.
For minutes they followed the undulating contours of the grassy hills around Sauler Downport—a crazy maneuver in the dark without flight sensors of any kind, but a maneuver that ultimately paid off as they crested a rise and came within four kilometers of Dead Man's Hill. Then, as per prior arrangement, the troopers veered off to the left and the right while the broomstick settled to the top of a neighboring hill.
"Looks quiet enough," Physic said softly, lifting her goggles up on her forehead to peer through image- converter binoculars. "Just a couple of guards and a shed."
Coeur made a slashing gesture across her neck, and Physic fell silent. This close to the objective, they could not take a chance on being overheard.
Come on guys, Coeur thought impatiently, 20 minutes later, just take out the sensors and scoot.
Suddenly, the guards on the hill started, shocked by something they heard in their radio helmets, and fell back to the cover of the centra! warehouse.
Good work, Coeur thought, now get the hell back here.
Seconds later, as if they had registered the thought, the troopers flew back out of the night, closing from the opposite directions they'd left.
Sensors eliminated, Drop Kick signaled in Anslan, after landing alongside Bonzo near the broomstick.
Any trouble? Coeur asked.
Negative, Bonzo said. Score one for the Hiver Federation.
Coeur smiled. Though Sauler, like Ra, had an atmosphere too thick for effective use of the laser sniper weapon, Hornet had other technology available for eliminating remote sensors—specifically, components for two more of Scissors tiny robots, robots too small for remote EMS sensors to detect beyond a very short range.
Since the robots were presently secured to the troopers' belts, Coeur assumed that the little machines had completed their missions without being spotted—engaging their surge generators at point-blank range and turning the lights out on the sensors of Dead Man's Hill, Roger, Coeur said. See any more guards?
Negative, Drop Kick returned, just the two.
Good, Move out.
As a unit, the Arses and Marines lifted straight into the air and then inclined themselves toward Dead Man's Hill high above the heads of its guards. Alerted to the deactivation of their perimeter sensors, the guards were staring out toward the adjacent hills with their own low- light goggles, oblivious of the danger above.
Got the range? Coeur asked, parking her broomstick 100 meters above the hill.
No problem, both Marines signaled, stabilizing their grav belts and unshouldering their gauss rifles. Whistling report from the rifles sounded a moment later, and the troopers lifted on the recoil of their weapons even as their targets dropped, side-by-side.
Lucky we're feeling friendly, Coeur thought, perceiving the quick work of tranq slugs on the guards.
You two watch the perimeter; Coeur signaled. Physic, we're going in.
It was possible, Coeur supposed, that Dead Man's Hill wasn't what they were after—a laboratory or CBW stockpile—but she'd been on enough SAG missions to know the drill. In the 20 minutes they had before an attack speeder could arrive, she and Physic would record as much as possible with hand-held holovid and be out again as quickly as they'd arrived.
With gauss pistols already in hand, the women landed their broomstick just inside the perimeter fence and advanced into the single structure atop the hill, A key lifted from one of the two comatose guards let Coeur in through a side door, but from there it was in on guts alone.
The unlit warehouse proved almost entirely empty, save for vehicle fueling tanks and tools but Coeur's iR goggles spotted a tell-tale square of light on the concrete floor—heat leaking from a well-concealed trap door. With her low-light vision, Coeur registered the concern on Physic's face, but squatted on her haunches anyway to search for a hidden handle. Finding it, she lifted 20 kilograms of wire and concrete and then climbed down the exposed ladder, trusting that Physic would put aside her fears and follow her down.
The tunnel they dropped into was softly lit with red lamps every five meters, but there was no obvious sign of the hilt's ulterior purpose until they turned a corner 50 meters later and came across a spiral staircase leading down. Inside the stairwell was painted a cracked sign of clearly ancient origin:
INI RIMCOM STORAGE FACILITY 131 AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
"Oh my God," Physic whispered.
"Shh."
Come on.
With her gun out ahead of her, Couer descended to the bottom of the stairs, prepared to shoot anything that moved. Nothing moved, however, and that troubled both women as they came up to a heavy blast door— conveniently open.
I don't like this, Physic signed with the hand not holding a gun. Where ore the people?
Don't know, Coeur returned, pausing a moment to
study the meter-thick hatch. Come on.
On the other side of the hatch, the Arses found another corridor, lined in polished metal and Illuminate
d by recessed blue light tubes. Sliding doors on either side of the corridor opened to reveal staterooms and storage areas, all empty. They pressed on to the iris valve at the end of the corridor.
Ready? Coeur asked, pausing with her left hand over the valve release button.
Right here, the doctor said, taking a moment to look back the way they'd come, and then cover Coeur with a pistol leveled at the center of the iris valve.
Coeur opened the hatch.
It opened onto a hexagonal control room, ringed with windows and high-tech level holographic workstations. The room itself was empty, though, as empty as the rest of the hill.
Damn peculiar place, Coeur thought, nodding to Physic and stepping through the iris valve. Physic then followed and shut the hatch behind her.
Safe to talk? Physic asked.
"Sure," Coeur said, "I think we've reached the center of this facility."
Physic saw what Coeur meant; Five iris valves, plus the one they'd entered, ringed the room, opening onto five enclosed catwalks that could be seen radiating outward like spokes from a hub. Walking up to a window beside Coeur, Physic then saw that the catwalks in turn ended in elevators that descended to a single vast warehouse area still further below.
"Good Gaia almighty," the doctor said, recognizing ancient symbols on the countless racks of bombs and shells below. "Nuclear warheads, CBW munitions, damper boxes...what the hell is this place?"
" The last place I want to be," Coeur said, bolstering her pistol and unslinging the camera from her shoulder. "Quick, try to get into the computer while I get all this on holovid."
"Right," Physic said, dropping into the chair of the nearest workstation. Without the time to guess at an acceptable password, she went directly to her medical diagnostic computer, jacking it into a workstation socket and engaging the code-cracker program Scissor had so thoughtfully loaded into its extended memory.
"You're not going to believe this," Physic said. "This system was protected by a holographic fractal matrix."
"You get in?"
"Roger. I've got everything going into a screen dump."
"Get as much as you can," Coeur said, continuing her walk around the room with the camera running. "All the iris valves are locked, but we still have to split in five."
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