The Universe — or Nothing, Meyer Moldeven [best color ebook reader txt] 📗

long as it gets you aboard. The real reason is to keep your eyes on Drummer, the operation, and these convicts he's harboring. I want to know everything that happens. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I do." Scarf's eyes lit up. He continued eagerly. "If Drummer goes to the depot or boards UIPS ships, I should go along to see what he does. As Chief of Security, my position should compel him to accompany him. I suggest, sir, that you appoint me as your counter-intelligence representative on Drummer's task force. My job, then, would be to check if the depot or a transport, whichever we board, is conducting secret surveillance of our military facilities, field training, and ship movements. Drummer can be told that my boarding the depot would be essential to the mission you've assigned to me."

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

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

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

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

Chapter SIXTEEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I've gone over the maintenance and operations checklists for all ships and technical support committed to this mission, as you told me to," Hodak said, "and then spot-checked them against installed equipment. We've only been on this job a couple of days, so I couldn't probe to any meaningful depth."

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

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

"Drummer's main concern right now is getting through this operation without using weapons or incurring a technical breakdown," Brad said. "Either one will detract from the image we're trying to build. He should know ASAP what you found. I'll pass it along to him. Stand by with Kumiko in case Drummer needs some technical advice on weapons or engineering."

"Right."

Hodak turned to leave, and his eyes met Scarf's.
Hodak grinned, and gave Scarf a thumbs up. Scarf
glowered and turned away, moving back to the net.
Hodak disappeared down the passageway.

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

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

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

Drummer picked up a microphone, Brad beside him.

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

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

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

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

##

Drummer turned his head and looked at Brad.

"Went off rather well," he said.

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

Drummer touched a switch connecting him to the bridge.

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

The ship shuddered as it shot from the gallery and headed for the concentration of spacecraft above Pluto. It slowed as it passed through the umbrella formation and stopped fifty kay from the nearest transport.

Time lapse from launch was less than two minutes.
Surprise was complete; the effect, paralyzing.

All movement around the depot slowed to a halt. The intranet filled with "What the hell's going on?", "Who are these guys?", and "Bring on the dancing girls." Then, suddenly, the channels blanked, replaced by silence.

Drummer keyed his microphone open and handed it to Brad.

Brad took on a harsh tone.

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

"The Fleet Commander of this Plutonian Security
Force wishes to speak with the Commander of the
Slingshot Logistics Depot. Depot Commander, please
identify yourself and stand by. Acknowledge."

Silence. Thirty seconds.

"Logistics Depot. This is the Plutonian Security Force. The message we sent you moments ago was for the Depot Commander. Did you read? Acknowledge."

The reply came.

"Your message received. Please identify Fleet
Commander."

Brad and Drummer exchanged glances. Drummer chuckled.

"The formalities must be observed," he chuckled, his tone dry. "Tell him."

Brad keyed the mike.

"Fleet Commander Deke Drummer." He put a rasp into his voice. "Now, get on with it."

Another voice came on.

"Colonel Hanno here. I'm the Depot Commander.
What the hell game are you playing, Drummer?"

Brad's tone turned icy.

"Let's get one point straight, Colonel Hanno. You will be speaking with a Fleet Commander with the rank of Admiral. Should you need to be reminded, Planet Pluto is a sovereign and independent nation, and you are a guest within our borders. Your choice of words is offensive. Do you read?"

A long pause.

"I read."

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Drummer reached for the mike.

"Colonel Hanno, this is Admiral Drummer." He winked at Brad.

"Colonel, my Government requires an inventory of Slingshot properties, materials and supplies in your depot and on the transports nearby. The information we develop from this one-time inventory will be used to compute UIPS taxes while the depot and transports are in Plutonian jurisdiction. My fleet is escorting the inventory specialists. Please arrange for them to board your Depot and the transports on both sides of your force field, so that they can get to their work."

"I have not received instructions from my Government concerning the inventory or the taxes to which you refer."

"That is between you and your Government. I am here at the express order of President Narval to see that the inventory is conducted. May I count on your cooperation?"

"If I decline, what then?"

"Blockade, for starters."

"The UIPS will not permit your interference with our operations."

"Is that the formal response of your Government to my request?"

A short pause. "No."

"Then I suggest you dispense with posturing and arrange to receive the inventory crews. Please instruct all Masters of transports and other ships doing business with your depot to cooperate with our agents."

Another voice cut in, heavy with anger.

"No goddamned shakedown artists are coming aboard my ship."

Brad motioned Drummer to give him the mike, indicating by his facial expression that the intruder did not deserve a direct response from Drummer's level.

"This is Commander Curtin," Brad said with low-toned authority, "Executive to Admiral Drummer. Who speaks?"

He winked at Drummer, who leaned back in his chair, grinning.

"Lieutenant Bura, commanding the transport Sandbox. I repeat: keep your damn squeeze clerks away from my ship, regardless how legitimate you claim your purpose to be."

"You're in no position to refuse," Brad shot back. "You're in Plutonian territory, and we have every right to employ police or military powers to enforce our jurisdiction. You will cooperate in this inventory, peacefully, if possible; under force, if necessary."

"You'll have to fight your way on to my ship." Bura's voice was harsh, angry. "Be advised we are armed and prepared to repel unauthorized boarders. I take your demands to be attempted extortion, and a clear threat to the safety of my ship, crew and cargo. That, at the least, is piracy in my book, and I am within my authority to use force to keep pirates off my ship. Now, chew on that."

"Lieutenant Bura." Brad's voice was space-cold. "You now insult the Plutonian Government by accusing it of piracy. Your attitude gives us good reason to question the purpose of your presence in our territory. By your words, you command an armed vessel. Now you dare to threaten legitimate representatives of a sovereign nation with your guns. We have no choice but to conclude you are a danger to our ships and to our people."

"Ridiculous. I am merely protecting the safety and integrity of my ship."

"So you say. Nevertheless, you have threatened to use force against our exercise of legitimate rights. Tell me, Bura, is your ship really a commercial cargo transporter or is it a UIPS warship with a military mission inside our legal jurisdiction?"

"What in hell are you trying to do, whoever you are? My ship is a transporter of cargo, and you know that damned well."

"I know no such thing. All I know is that you claim to be armed and say you will use your weapons against us. I repeat: are you on a military mission?"

"No, damn it, I am not."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your problem."

"Not at all, my man, it's yours. You insult and then threaten harm to us." Brad grinned at Drummer, who was watching him with an appraising expression. "Our fire control system has you marked and our guns are trained on your ship. How does that strike you?"

Silence.

"I say," Brad roared, "Bura of the Sandbox, how does that strike you? You have ten seconds to reply."

Lieutenant Bura's voice came in, low and tight with suppressed rage.

"I read you, loud and clear. My gun crews are standing down."

"Unacceptable, Bura," Brad said flatly, "you remain a serious obstacle to the success of our mission. Stand by and do not interrupt again. Admiral Drummer wishes to complete this transaction with the Depot Commander. Colonel Hanno, we are waiting for your answer to Admiral Drummer's request, which, I repeat, is to arrange for our inventory specialists to perform their duties aboard your Depot and the transports within your control area."

"I take note of your fleet's deployment, Admiral Drummer," the voice of Colonel Hanno was subdued but intense, "and the manner in which your Executive responded to Lieutenant Bura's protest. My responsibility for the safety of UIPS supplies, properties