All except one blank card. At first Kinsolving thought it was a spare Liu carried, one to be electronically imprinted. But his fingers ran along the edge and felt the dull nicks in the plastic. The card had been used often.
Kinsolving didn’t worry about it. He sat down on the edge of a chair and thought about his windfall in obtaining these entry card keys. Somewhere within the IM computer must lie evidence that could clear him. Ala Markken had claimed that her thefts of the rare earth oxides had been condoned by someone higher up. He had assumed that she meant Kenneth Humbolt.
With Director Liu’s identicard and access card keys, Kinsolving hoped to be able to prove that. With evidence against Humbolt, he might be able to clear himself of the murder charges, also.
If nothing else, he could prove to Chairman Fremont that he had nothing to do with stealing from the company — and that the true culprit was still seated on the board of directors.
Barton Kinsolving left the room, seeking the executive elevators that would take him to Director Liu’s office and the computer access available there.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Barton Kinsolving thrust the stolen identicard into the receptor slot near the elevator. For a moment, he imagined alarms sounding in the heart of the headquarters building, armed guards rushing out to capture him, a million overlooked details tripping him up.
The doors silently slid open to reveal a spacious room; Kinsolving hesitantly advanced. The doors slid shut behind him. Only then did he realize this was an elevator.
“Floor?” came a soft voice. Kinsolving spun around, seeking the source of the sound.
He laughed ruefully. He had always wanted robot voices to sound human; he had railed about the information center in the lobby sounding so mechanical. The directors of Interstellar Materials shared his distaste and for their private use had programmed the computer properly.
“Director Liu’s office,” he said.
“May I check the authorization pass?” the computer asked. A single wall panel glowed a dull, cool blue in anticipation of reading the pass.
“This is a direct order. Take me to the director’s office.”
“Please, sir. I have been ordered to inquire of any unescorted passengers using this elevator.”
Kinsolving glanced at the closed door and knew that he would be trapped if he couldn’t produce the proper card key. He pulled out the stack of cards stolen from Liu and flipped through them, wondering which, if any, would be an appropriate pass.
A light blue card matching the panel seemed a good choice. He touched it to the panel and the light immediately vanished. The computer said, “Thank you, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Security is important,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“I am happy you understand, sir.”
Even before the computer had finished the apology, the doors slid open to show the directors’ suites. Kinsolving left the elevator, cautiously checking every cross corridor. The anniversary celebrations had taken the staff from their usual posts. For that, Kinsolving heaved a deep sigh of relief. A stolen key card might get him past an elevator computer but it wouldn’t work with a human guard or curious staff member.
Kinsolving wandered the lavishly decorated halls until he came to a door with Liu’s name inlaid in gold and rubies. Using the identicard gained him entry.
He sat down in the chair behind the broad desk and shook. He wasn’t used to breaking and entering. The strain of being keyed and ready for flight at the slightest noise had worked a toll on him both physically and emotionally.
Kinsolving settled his nerves and swung about in the plush chair and stared out over the city. This level of the gold and emerald building rose above the dome of atmosphere contained in the bowl of the crater. The ebon starkness of space allowed the stars to shine, even in midday, with diamond hardness.
“To work here,” he muttered.
“May I be of service?” came the immediate response from a hidden computer.
“Yes. I need to view company files.”
Kinsolving sat back when a computer console rose from the bare desktop. He moved the chair closer and hesitantly tapped at the keys. Surprise blossomed when he found that he didn’t have to enter an access code. Liu was Comptroller of Interstellar Materials and had all financial records at his fingertips. Kinsolving realized again how lucky he had been to get into this office. The computer hadn’t required passwords because of the impossibility of anyone reaching this point without being detected and stopped.
He jumped at every slight noise made in the outer offices. Kinsolving worked quickly, not sure what he wanted. From time to time he took notes on all that he found in the records of liftings from Deepdig. Other inquiries showed that the Deepdig shipping records had been altered to reflect not what had been lifted but what remained after a considerable portion had been stolen.
He found no evidence to show that Humbolt had been responsible. From the records available to Liu, he couldn’t even show theft had occurred.
“If nothing is obvious, then they can’t come back and say I was responsible. Whoever has stolen the ore has done a great job of covering up.”
“Theft, sir?” came the attentive computer voice.
“Cancel,” he said quickly.
Only the Lorr charge of murder appeared to be of any significance. That Kinsolving considered a mixed blessing. He had only this charge to disprove to clear his name. But proving his innocence would be difficult — more so if he couldn’t show why Humbolt or Cameron would want to make it look as if he had committed the crime.
No theft, no motive to frame him.
He finished his probing with a complete listing of destinations for the refined rare earths. He cursed under his breath as he handwrote all he saw on the console screen. Daring to ask for a hard copy might be his undoing if a notation were made internally. He doubted screen access would trigger such a counter.
He hoped that it wouldn’t.
“Finished,” he said, standing. He had been here too long and had gained little for his effort. Kinsolving went back to the elevator, lost in thought. He entered the spacious room, then looked up when the computer again asked for access card.
Once more the panel glowed a light blue, but this time Kinsolving accidentally pressed the unmarked card against it.
The elevator dropped precipitously, then came to a halt amid a mechanical grinding that made him worry about the machinery’s safety.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked.
“Secured entry permitted,” the computer said. Kinsolving stiffened when the computer added, “All success to the Plan!”
The doors opened. Kinsolving looked at the panel indicator inside the elevator but nothing showed. He poked his head out and looked around. The directors’ offices had been luxurious beyond even a sybarite’s dream. This floor proved as plain as an Earth office. Kinsolving slipped from the elevator and looked around.
No secretaries’ desks lined these halls. No indication of any staff hinted at the importance of the few offices he found. Kinsolving looked into one office. It was almost empty. The next he found in similar condition. The last five had desks and computer consoles, but nothing as elaborate as that in Director Liu’s office.
If the computer voice hadn’t mentioned this mysterious “Plan” Kinsolving would have believed that a malfunction had dropped him onto a floor populated by minor, insignificant functionaries.
The office appearing to be used most drew him. He sat in the chair and tentatively touched the keys on the computer console. The screen glowed phosphorescently.
“What is the access code? Or is there one?” he asked, then clamped his mouth shut, waiting for the answering office robot. No robot. No sounds except for the distant creaks of the building heating and cooling. Kinsolving glanced out the window and saw that the view from the crystal windows was obscured by turbulence. This strange grouping of offices was positioned at the boundary layer between the dome o
f atmosphere sheltering the city and the harshness of space, almost as if by plan.
Plan. The Plan. The Plan.
Kinsolving worked at the console. His first attempts produced only restricted notations. Some codes were required, but general access had to gain him more information than he now had.
Under his breath, he mumbled as he worked. “What is the Plan?” he asked, putting this question to the computer, not expecting a response — and astounded when it began rolling across the screen.
Kinsolving sat back and read as fast as he could. The words reeled by with the precision of marching soldiers and he missed much, but he got more than he’d hoped.
Frantically, he scribbled notes on a scrap of paper. Again he wished he could send his captured output to hard copy, but that was out of the question. Kinsolving wondered that he hadn’t set off alarms all over the building. Then he smiled wanly. The people responsible for the Stellar Death Plan wouldn’t want to alert anyone else to their subversion, to their misuse of IM property.
He settled back and held his head between shaking hands when the scrolling had stopped. He knew where the stolen rare earth oxides had been shipped, how they had been stolen — and their purpose. He shivered all over at the magnitude of the Plan.
“Who’s responsible?” he wondered aloud. “Who?” Nowhere in his search did he discover a listing of those at Interstellar Materials instituting such a diabolic plan for mass alien destruction.
A slight sound from the corridor alerted Kinsolving. He leaped from the chair and raced to the door. He pressed his ear against the panel but heard nothing. Kinsolving pulled the door open slowly against its mechanism until a slit allowed him a view of the hallway.
His heart almost stopped at the sight. Cameron patrolled the hall, his robot hunter hovering at his knee. As Kinsolving watched, the gaudily dressed man paused, head tipped to one side as if listening. Cameron turned ninety degrees, reached out and opened an office door.
“Go!” the man cried. The robot hunter dazzled Kinsolving with the speed of its departure. One instant it hung at Cameron’s side, the next it simply vanished. He had no desire to find out its other capabilities.
He evaluated his chances. If he stayed, Cameron would find him. The tracking senses of the robot must be acute — why it hadn’t already found him hardly mattered. It would. Soon.
Kinsolving acted before he thought through the consequences. He left the relative safety of the office and dashed into the hall. Cameron heard and spun to his right. Kinsolving’s fist found the fop’s nose. Kinsolving felt cartilage crushing and warm blood spurting. Cameron strangely did not emit any sound. He shifted weight and tried to counter, but Kinsolving still had the advantage. Instinctively, he used it. A hard shoulder caught Cameron high on the chest and sent the man reeling back into the office being investigated by his robot hunter.
Cameron crashed to the floor, momentarily shaken. Kinsolving slammed the office door and fumbled, finding his blank card. He pressed it into the key slot. A soft “snick” signaled the door locking.
Heart racing and breath coming in ragged gasps, Kinsolving stumbled back and dived into the waiting elevator.
“Your identicard is required, sir,” came the soft, polite, human-sounding voice.
“Main lobby,” he said, presenting Liu’s blank card — the card that had unlocked the Stellar Death Plan for him.
“Thank you, sir.” Kinsolving gasped at the speed of descent. He tumbled into the lobby, but no one noticed. They were too intent on their holiday, their own celebration of Interstellar Materials’ two hundredth anniversary.
Barton Kinsolving had no idea where he ran, but he knew he had to get away from the headquarters, from Cameron, from the robot that would soon be sent after him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Barton Kinsolving tried to control his burgeoning fear. The thought of Cameron’s deadly robot hunter coming after him made him want to run and run and run. To do so would attract unwanted attention. At points around the huge lobby stood corporate security guards. Their function was more ceremonial than enforcement, but Kinsolving didn’t doubt that they would spring into action if Cameron — or any IM director — ordered them after a fugitive.
He was the fugitive. And he felt the pressure of time. He had rifled the files of Interstellar Materials and stolen a director’s entry card keys. Those two crimes would send him to prison on Gamma Tertius 4, but Kinsolving knew that would be preferable to spending the rest of his life on the alien prison world.
But prison wasn’t where he would end up if Cameron caught him. After reading the brief summary of their Stellar Death Plan in the tiny offices sandwiched between corporate floors, he posed more danger to them alive than he did dead.
“Who are they?” he muttered.
“Sir?” asked a guard. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
The guard eyed him curiously Kinsolving swore under his breath. He hadn’t wanted to attract attention. Now this guard would remember him when questioned. Kinsolving hurried from the lobby and stood looking directly west at the craggy spire of Mt. New Daisy Bates turning ochre in the rays of the too-distant setting sun. Did the rim wall around the city hold sanctuary for him?
Kinsolving didn’t think so. The area encompassed by this artificial city had seemed immense when he had landed. Now it constricted, squeezed in on him, made him feel that there wasn’t any room to run. With IM owning everything in the city — and on Gamma Tertius 4 — he had no one to turn to. Everyone worked for the company in some capacity, even the smallest shop owner in the commercial section.
Most owed considerable devotion to Interstellar Materials, too, for getting them off overcrowded Earth, away from the pollution and ruin, and for giving them jobs.
Kinsolving held his head, feeling as if it would explode. His temples pounded like an ocean surf and the arteries in his throat throbbed and cut off his wind. He had to escape, he had to hide, he had to think.
Walking aimlessly would only work against him. Kinsolving took a few seconds and decided that a park provided the best chance for concealment. Anywhere that he might stay away from prying eyes gave Kinsolving that much more hope.
The park system of GT 4 had been designed by experts to give the maximum amount of privacy in the smallest possible space. The greenery helped the city air supply to a small degree, but oxygen and other gases for the atmosphere were artificially generated.
Kinsolving walked slowly along a path, then left it, going across a grassy sward to a rocky alcove with a scenic view of a tiny waterfall and stream meandering through the park. From this vantage he could see most approaches without being obvious. He settled down and tried to work out a real escape.
Leaving Gamma Tertius 4 would be dangerous. Cameron would immediately close off the Landing Authority. He probably knew who he hunted — Kinsolving now believed that the aliens would have alerted IM about the escape from the prison planet. Even if Cameron had no idea who had broken into the Plan offices and struck him, the LA would be closed down tight. That might prove a problem for IM in a few days when many of the guests started to leave the parties to return to their duty stations out-space. Until then, the LA could admit anyone coming in from off-planet and not seem restrictive.
Or did anyone on GT 4 care about such things? The company ruled the planet. Would they meekly abide by any corporate decision, no matter how oppressive or in violation of Earth law?
Such as destroying entire planets and their alien populations? Kinsolving shuddered at what he had found in the computer files. The Stellar Death Plan was nothing less than a blueprint for genocide on a scale undreamed of before. A few million had died at the hands of Earthly dictators.
Those fostering the Stellar Death Plan had grander and bloodier dreams.
They would slaughter alien races down to the last individual. And, from what Kinsolving guessed, they wouldn’t stop with just one. They wanted all aliens dead. The paranoia
about other species he had heard in Kenneth Humbolt’s words had been translated into action on a scale so vast Kinsolving wanted to think it was all a gigantic prank being played on him.
He knew it wasn’t. The look on Cameron’s face when he murdered the Lorr agent-captain proved graphically that this was no joke. Cameron had wanted to kill the alien, had enjoyed it.
Kinsolving’s mind rolled and turned and spun and came up with no idea what he should do. Even escaping GT 4 would prove difficult. If he didn’t, the best he might hope for would be death. The worst? Return to the alien prison world. Kinsolving had to chuckle at that thought, though. Cameron and Humbolt would be certain that he never left Gamma Tertius 4 alive.
Not after he had seen the broad outline of their vicious, racist Plan.
“What alien would believe me if I told them?” Kinsolving said aloud. The answer had to be simple: none. He had been convicted of killing a Lorr, a crime viewed as extreme by the aliens. They would assume he concocted details of the Plan to escape punishment.
Kinsolving stood and paced around the small rock enclosure, trying to find a way out, a way to alert the aliens to their danger without bringing horrendous retribution down on Earth and all humans, a way of stopping Humbolt before he carried out his savage scheme.
An electric tension in the air caused Kinsolving to stop his nervous movements and peer hard toward the entrance to the park. He saw only a few pedestrians walking slowly, some hand in hand. This was all he saw, but the man felt far more.
He knew in that instant how prey felt when sighted by a hungry predator.
Kinsolving held down the impulse to bolt and run for his life. Common sense prevailed. If he did, whoever sought him would be able to pinpoint him instantly. Who else in the park ran? Who else would emit the sweat of fear and the stench of panic?
The Stellar Death Plan (Masters of Space Book 1) Page 15