Foreigner - Explorer. Part 39

"Small-scale demolition? Take out the archive?"

"The way we were going to do it if we got cooperation. We do it without. We're going to have to call on five-deck again to do this. Can Banichi and Jago do it?"

"If I go." It was the last job he wanted, but he'd been helpful in the last try, and he was prepared to be stubborn. He saw refusal shaping Jase's next word and he was faster. "If I go, Jase. What do you want, the whole mission stalled out because some scared stationer with a gun wants to fight my bodyguard, when if I was there it wouldn't happen? We've got our routine down pat. We can do this."

"You're essential with the hostage."

"What's essential is to get him, alive, back to his s.h.i.+p. That's already set up. He's stuffed on tea cakes, happy as a freshman on break, and if I'm delayed, you can take over communicating with him-in your spare time."

"The h.e.l.l."

"You ask for Banichi and Jago, you get me me."

"They wouldn't understand that." wouldn't understand that."

"I do. And you do. That's enough."

A deep, frustrated sigh. "Plan it," Jase said.

"They already have, I'm relatively sure. We'll review it, in light of what we know now." He cast a look at the ticking reply window. Expected that reply any second. But the other side had to get organized to answer, and decide how it was going to answer...

Not that great a delay, however. Almost as the reply clock went negative, lines began to appear and a.s.semble on that monitor, at C1's station, mesmerizing process, line by line develop ment of an image. Bren couldn't make out what it was yet, and meanwhile something had begun nagging him. "Sabin took took most every security-trained crew member we had, except your bodyguard. If Braddock had to try to counterfeit her orders, she's clearly not cooperating. Her com went silent-but I think we should take into account the possibility she's not dead and not confined." Sabin was a direct thinker, set a goal and go for it, no diversions. "She most every security-trained crew member we had, except your bodyguard. If Braddock had to try to counterfeit her orders, she's clearly not cooperating. Her com went silent-but I think we should take into account the possibility she's not dead and not confined." Sabin was a direct thinker, set a goal and go for it, no diversions. "She may may have made a try at the fuel port. Or some target she thought she could get to with twenty men." have made a try at the fuel port. Or some target she thought she could get to with twenty men."

Jase's eyes, distracted by the com panel, s.h.i.+fted to him, flickering in rapid thought. "Jenrette."

There was a man who'd gone initially to Braddock. Bet on it. Maybe sent to him-but certainly working for him. He'd betrayed Sabin and his s.h.i.+pmates. Or they couldn't read character. was a man who'd gone initially to Braddock. Bet on it. Maybe sent to him-but certainly working for him. He'd betrayed Sabin and his s.h.i.+pmates. Or they couldn't read character.

"She's capable of sending sending Jenrette to Braddock," Jase said, "to see how Braddock received him, and maybe what Jenrette would do next. Then Braddock sends him to us." Jenrette to Braddock," Jase said, "to see how Braddock received him, and maybe what Jenrette would do next. Then Braddock sends him to us."

"Or maybe she sent him precisely to disinform Braddock. She sends Jenrette to tell him one thing and she does something else, and doesn't doesn't turn up in station offices." turn up in station offices."

On the screen lines marched on, making a shape. Two beings facing one another, empty hands uplifted, one human, one Prakuyo's kind.

"Echo it to them," Bren said. Message received. "It's good. I think it's good."

There was an uncharacteristic stir on the bridge, an infinitestimal head-turning, a collective deep breath.

"A good guess where the senior captain might have gone if she's able," Jase said calmly. "Either the fuel-or Braddock."

"Captain." C1. "Lt. Kaplan."

"Go," Jase said, and a man in a cold-suit appeared on monitor 3.

"Captain?" Kaplan said. "Captain, there's action going on. There's ten, fifteen people and G.o.d-knows all sort of baggage coming out the section doors, and we shot a safety line over there, and it took, but this doesn't look orderly, not half."

"Two at a time, Kaplan, no baggage, no hand baggage," Jase said. "C1, get the cargo chief down there. Everything and every one scanned through." Deep breath. "It's started-if this isn't one of Braddock's gifts." this isn't one of Braddock's gifts."

It wasn't good. It wasn't when they'd have chosen to have it happen.

"All we can do," Bren said.

"Kaplan," Jase said. "Kaplan, cargo team's coming. Keep it slow and calm. Route the cars to three-deck, no detours. If anybody needs medical, we'll send medical to them-no way any stationer gets loose off three and four-decks."

"Understood, captain. There's kids kids in this lot. There's an old man. They don't look hostile. The old man's got one of our fliers. But there's more coming." in this lot. There's an old man. They don't look hostile. The old man's got one of our fliers. But there's more coming."

"Boarding pa.s.s," Bren said under his breath. "I told them it was a boarding pa.s.s."

"Calm and easy," Jase said. "Calm and easy, Kaplan. Be gracious."

"Yes, sir," came back, and in the background of that picture another suited figure, Pressman, most likely, was looking out the open lock.

"s.h.i.+ft to C2 and monitor," Jase said to C1, and shot a glance at Bren. "A conspicuous gold-plated disaster is what they want, create a mess for us. They've taken our warnings and devised their own own solution. And after the old man and the kids-bet their operatives will be in there." solution. And after the old man and the kids-bet their operatives will be in there."

"Or a handful of security guards bent on getting their relatives out. Where I dropped those brochures-G.o.d knows which; and d.a.m.n the timing." He'd have wanted his own team out and clear; and they wouldn't be. "We'll have to go through them to get into the station. No question. We'll have to lock the doors open to get back."

"Can't be helped," Jase said. Something about the captaincy settled a look on the wielder, and Jase had gotten to have it-a furious, measuring glance, the distracted habit of a man tracking a dozen emergencies at once. While the image on the monitor took shape: s.h.i.+p. Station s.h.i.+p. Station.

Meanwhile the lift had arrived, crew coming up, Bren thought. But brisk steps presented Gin Kroger, in cold-boots and parka, still frosted from working G.o.d-knew-where.

"Heard there was a meeting up here," Gin said. "Heard you were involved." With a glance at Bren. "I'll guess we're going to do something."

"We're going to do something," Bren said.

"We're going in," Jase said, "And we've got pa.s.sengers coming on."

Gin held up a disk. "Image. Fuel lock. Enhanced photo. Give me a suit and we can drill it."

"Disable it?" Jase asked.

"Maybe," Gin said. "Maybe. I want a suit. I can stealth it with a spray can."

"No," Jase said.

"We can spend ten hours re-rigging a robot to reach into that angle while people are hammering at our doors or I can sneak out there with a hand-drill and do the job in half an hour."

"A hand-drill."

"This goings-on is the best cover we're going to have," Gin said, "right now, in the s.h.i.+p's shadow, while the Guild's busy with people trying to get to us. I can get in there, myself-"

"No way in h.e.l.l, Gin!"

"Look, there's a reason I've got the doctorate, captain, sir. They're not going to blow that tank up. It'd take out the mast, which would take out the whole station. If the contact trigger's tripped, the only kind of explosion they'll want is to crank up the pressure and blow the explosive bolts: the tank's already got provision to blow out if there's a serious pressure anomaly, precisely to protect the mast integrity. The whole sensor system that runs it is just a limited kind of robot: that's what they've rigged into. I know what I'm looking at in our remote images, and I've been talking to the atevi, who are very good at this sort of thing. They say the same. It all depends on power to that system, which I can take out."

"We've got too many people in motion," Bren protested. "Too many operations. We can't rush one, Gin. Just wait. We may be able to get at this from inside."

"If you're threatening them, they're going to threaten back, won't they, to push the b.u.t.ton and dump our fuel? I'm not a risk out there, I'm a precaution. I'll kill the pump that could let them retaliate and save us a year mopping it up. We can patch the system back, no problem."

"Do it," Jase said. "Take a suit."

"Got it," Gin said, and turned and headed off at high speed.

"d.a.m.n," Bren said.

"She's at risk," Jase said. "We're all at risk. No one's is more acute than anyone else's if we let the Guild deal with that s.h.i.+p out there. I want them busy, Bren."

"If we can get into Central we can get past that lock ourselves, with no loss of lives."

"With your neck at risk."

Different. He controlled that. Expressed one thought in Ragi, a cipher to the bridge crew. "We are doing all we can to gain our guest's good will. But one missile from the station could undo all that."

"We have to prevent it," Jase said in s.h.i.+pspeak, "Becker's loose in there, Sabin may be in there, the s.h.i.+p's scaring h.e.l.l out of Central, and we just let two people go on the station with a handful of travel brochures. C2, get Mr. Cameron a handheld, C1's channels and output. Fast."

"Sir." C2 pulled a module right off his console, keyed it in half a dozen rapid motions, and offered it to Bren. "Just say image image and you can key through images, say and you can key through images, say voice voice and you can talk to C1: don't say and you can talk to C1: don't say console console, sir: that's straight to the keyboards. You won't want that. Won't want to carry that off the s.h.i.+p."

"I have it," Bren said, and tucked it into his coat pocket. His court finery.

"Add one thing to your plan. I want those accesses to the mast open. I don't want Guild able to lock them against us. And come back back if you can't get through." if you can't get through."

Coming in the way they had before-taking a vulnerable pod-ride across that gap with the Guild paying full attention to them-he hoped not to do that again. Going in by the mast seemed highly attractive. With the bonus of having that key and those doors open, to let population into the mast.

"I'll ask Banichi," he said. "We'll see what we can do with that idea."

Jase reached into his jacket pocket and handed the key to him. "Take care," Jase said, clapping him on the arm. "Take care care of yourself, Bren." of yourself, Bren."

"That's a high priority," he said, and hied himself off at Gin's speed, resisting any temptation to cast a look back as if it was a last look. He made up his mind it wouldn't be. He left the bridge and went to the lift, pockets full of electronic connections, the key, all manner of responsibility he'd rather not have, but had, and a mission now diverted from the one he knew how to do, onto an operation that didn't involve sitting at a dining table.

"Asa-ji," he said to Asicho on his way down in the lift, "how is our guest?"

"He seems well, nandi."

"Advise Banichi and Jago they may leave our guest to Narani's and the dowager's judgement and meet me in security. By no means alarm our guest, but the foreign s.h.i.+p is moving toward us and the station has offended Jase-aiji. We are being threatened."

"Yes, nandi," Asicho said; and, depend on it, that was done.

He checked the bridge remote, and saw the current displays as the lift reached five-deck-no change in that situation. The alien s.h.i.+p was still moving; the flow of images was under Jase's management-their own latest output redemonstrating their desire to board pa.s.sengers and refuel. And at very worst-at very worst, Jase could put Prakuyo on mike and tell him talk to the foreign s.h.i.+p, and just hope for the best- Hope that, meanwhile, station hadn't taken a rash potshot at the advancing s.h.i.+p. One recalled that slagged station surface. A, one didn't want to destroy an alien craft and have that that to explain to the next s.h.i.+p that came asking, and, B, one didn't want to damage that alien craft and have them retaliate at everything in their gunsights. Which meant getting present decision-makers away from the fire b.u.t.ton in station Central, and hoping nothing they did put innocent people into an area that ended up vacuum. to explain to the next s.h.i.+p that came asking, and, B, one didn't want to damage that alien craft and have them retaliate at everything in their gunsights. Which meant getting present decision-makers away from the fire b.u.t.ton in station Central, and hoping nothing they did put innocent people into an area that ended up vacuum.

He had an argument coming with Banichi and Jago, and he hated to dispute them-but a.s.suredly he would. He was going with them. He had to. Couldn't see them forced to shoot it out with scared, mostly innocent stationers... having to mow them down in rows to get at the guilty.

He entered the atevi section. "The dowager, nandi, is still with the foreigner," Ilisidi's guard at that post advised him.

"Thank you, nadi," he answered, hardly pausing, all the while trying to figure how, in addition to other troubles, he was going to explain the situation to Prakuyo... or if he should explain, at all. Leave matters as they were, he thought on his way to the security post. Explain nothing. Hope Hope that all explanation in Prakuyo's case became extremely simple: that all explanation in Prakuyo's case became extremely simple: The station is cooperating. We have fuel. We shall take you to your s.h.i.+p. Let us leave now. Goodbye. Good luck The station is cooperating. We have fuel. We shall take you to your s.h.i.+p. Let us leave now. Goodbye. Good luck.

G.o.d, if only only it could be that easy. it could be that easy.

He reached the security post. Asicho shared the boards with one of Ilisidi's men. Banichi and Jago were there waiting for him. With their fighting gear and their black bag. That fast.

"We have understood," Banichi said, "Bren-ji."

"Gin-aiji will send Barnhart," Jago said. "We are ready. The aiji-dowager will see to matters here. Staff will attend our guest."

A negotiator braced for argument hardly knew what to do at that point.

"I have to change coats," he said.

A quick change, down to the skin, and back to station-style clothes. He was wearing out his wardrobe in a day.

He added the gas-mask, a rolled collar about his neck. Back came his gun, too: "One hopes not to need it, nandi."

"One heartily agrees, Rani-ji." He had the precious key in hand, and transferred it carefully to a zippered pocket, to be doubly sure. He made a fast check of the handheld unit Jase had lent him and saw the slow-moving dialogue of yes-no, black-white, off-on images proceeding, while communication with the station-G.o.d only knew. He had his pocket com. He didn't want to attempt using the unfamiliar handheld for voice communication. "Bren Cameron, for Captain Graham," he said to C1, and immediately had Jase on.

"Change of coats and we're ready to move," he reported to Jase. "Our plan is set. Banichi and Jago will brief me on the map in a few minutes. How is Gin?"

"Says she's prepping the suit. We want to do this about simultaneously. You're going to have to hold up and wait for her."

"That's all right. I'm not eager for this. Our guest, by the way, is enjoying dessert. He can out-consume Banichi. They hadn't fed him enough. Or the right things."

"s.h.i.+p cuisine benefited greatly from Bindanda's influence," Jase said quietly, and said something aside from the com, then: "If things get dicey, I'm thinking of putting our guest on com, let him talk to that s.h.i.+p. Good idea or bad?"

"Could be a good idea. We don't know what he might promise them or encourage them to do, that's the situation. Not a good idea they move into line of the station's guns. He speaks a few words, Jase. Not many, but at least a few. Maybe you could get him to follow a diagram, maybe you could show him where the guns are and let him explain the situation."

"G.o.d knows what they'd understand the situation is between us and station," Jase said. "I'd like to control communications better than that. We don't know but what he'd say come in and get me."

"You're probably right," Bren said. "Listen, I'll handle it when I get back. See you." Gallows bravado, as he clicked off. It was increasingly dawning on him that this was the craziest thing he'd ever done-fueled by the optimism of a little dive into the lightly watched perimeter of the station, where, in a uniform society, n.o.body was expecting a security breach. Now they were expecting it-well, they'd be expecting it by the time they noticed their doors weren't locking. This was the high stakes move. The very high stakes. Control of the whole station. Most important, stopping stopping the station from taking a shot at that s.h.i.+p. the station from taking a shot at that s.h.i.+p.

And, along with that, right at the top of their list: blowing the Archive. Preventing the whole cultural works of the human species from becoming a prize of war.

"Our guest is enjoying another dessert," Narani informed him, "and greatly appreciates the fruit pie."

"Excellent. One has great confidence in the staff. And in your resourcefulness, Rani-ji." The whole rest of the staff was hovering about the dining hall, being sure nothing untoward happened-their collective strength surely enough to subdue their guest and rescue the dowager and Cajeiri, if needed.

Fruit pie hardly sounded like discontent or dispute, except the sugar high of all those tea cakes.

He patted the gun and the key a second time, then gave a little bow. "One hopes to be home for breakfast."

"Nandi," Narani said with a little bow of his own, and let him out the door, down to security where Banichi and Jago were in preparations, giving last-moment information. Barnhart was there, hands in coat pockets, heavy cold-boots on his feet, gas mask tucked down at his collar-certainly not the sort of gear one wore in one's office.

"Thanks for coming," Bren said, and held out a hand, Mospheiran-style handshake. "We're on a rush move here. I trust you know about the s.h.i.+p moving in. I appreciate the backup."

"No question," Barnhart said.

They were ready.

Chapter Eighteen.