The Universe - or Nothing Part 42

A sense of weariness seemed to overpower him; he could not delay. He searched the heavens for a star with which to orient himself. Finding it, he faced the direction wherein lay the secret spunnel booster through which he would send his message.

Ram would know how it had come, what it meant, and what it had cost.

Zolan cleansed his mind, except for the message.

He closed his eyes and the strength of his concentration brought on trance. A tiny glow, deeply embedded in his subconscious, mushroomed into a pulsing network of charged filaments. His arms and legs throbbed, and the pain of furies cut through his torpor and slowly drained him of life force. In milliseconds, his face shrunk and seamed, and his body collapsed in on itself. The filaments in Zolan's brain crackled and snapped. His brain exploded inside his skull as the message burst out.

The rigid suit held his body erect, arms extended toward the Sun.

Standing on the stark and lifeless plain Ram's state-of-the-art modification to Zolan's brain and mind had completed its task.

Chapter THIRTY-SIX

Ram Xindral, representing the UIPS, met with INOR's advance team on Guardian Station 16 to plan protocols and logistics for the upcoming convocation. Planet Pluto had not sent an emissary.

Agreements were quickly concluded and the diplomatic cadre took over to prepare an agenda for the meeting's substance.

Spunnel channels flashed coded messages to home governments in the Outer Region, reported on problems encountered and the options available.

Instructions flashed back, rarely agreeing with offered solutions, more often insisting on new approaches that in turn became the subjects of lengthy discourse. When an issue was considered sufficiently clarified for the convocation and reported to the seats of UIPS and INOR Governments, it was almost invariably reopened as an extension of still another issue. This went on and on.

Eventually, an agenda of sorts was fas.h.i.+oned to guide the discussions. It limited itself to an agreement, in principle, which identified the paramount issues of urgent and general concern.

The preliminaries over, the advance teams departed for home.

A fleet of UIPS transports escorted by s.p.a.ce Guard entered the Great s.p.a.ce that separated the Guardian and Jovian orbits. Hauled along by a network of mag-beams converging from a score of s.p.a.ce tugs came the Conference Disk, two hectometers in diameter and a decameter thick at its hub.

At the agreed upon coordinates the Disk slowed and stabilized. The escorts drew back, cl.u.s.tered and waited.

Docking slips scalloped the Disk's rim, each with its own hoists, articulated and flex-umbilicals, power junctions, and docking, launch and maintenance support facilities. Emergency, fire-fighting, rescue, and med-evac craft dotted the upper and lower surfaces. Anch.o.r.ed, they were ready to service s.p.a.cecraft or launch instantly to where they might be needed.

Ram and his UIPS technicians, administrators and security specialists boarded the Disk from a utility transport. A INOR team entered through another portal. Members of each team serving a Chief of State inspected the suites a.s.signed to their nation's conferees, made changes to meet personal or cultural needs and, when satisfied, installed the scheduled occupant's accouterments and trappings of Office.

Engineers and technicians swarmed throughout the berths and mooring docks, inspecting and testing equipment and procedures to accommodate their Leader's vessel, and for routine support and emergencies should such arise. They conducted or observed s.h.i.+p handling tests and s.p.a.ce rescue capabilities. Finally, the administrators and technicians agreed the facility was ready. The Joint UIPS-INOR Security Team sealed the Disk's portals and posted their guards in armed capsules around the rim and on the Disk's gently curved surfaces.

They waited.

Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Drummer and Brad walked the corridor leading to the Dragon's bridge. The battle cruiser, aligned with its sisters in countdown on catapults in galleries and tunnels across Planet Pluto, was minutes from launch to Point Icarus.

Accompanied by a party of officers, Brad had completed the final formal inspection and sign-off of the Plutonian wars.h.i.+ps committed to the operation. Myra, Hodak, Adari and k.u.miko had trailed along as specialists, respectfully responding to technical questions tossed at them by the official inspection party.

The Sentinels took Zolan's death hard, aware but unable to share their grief with words that might be overheard by their enemy. They were in a somber mood difficult to hide, and k.u.miko's eyes were red-rimmed. She spoke little.

Moving from one tunnel and gallery hangar to another, the inspection team had checked the readiness of command and control, function systems, weapons readiness, logistic support and all that bore on their mission. Openly enthusiastic and congratulatory to s.h.i.+ps' crews on what he observed, Brad was inwardly appalled at the strength of Narval's fleet. Combined with the INOR forces coming to join them at Point Icarus, the slim forces that the UIPS maintained in the Plutonian Special Zone faced an overwhelming adversary.

At the companionway to the command deck, Brad deferred to Drummer. Drummer acknowledged the courtesy with a slight smile and nod. They ascended, and Brad closed the door.

Drummer strode to the forward bulkhead, paused, and drew a small device from his pocket. He moved casually about the compartment, meanwhile reading the device's indicators. Brad watched him in silence. After two full turns Drummer pocketed the device and faced Brad.

"Routine precautions," Drummer said with a shrug.

"This deck compartment is free of both sight and sound bugs. How did the inspection go? Are we prepared and on schedule?"

"A few glitches here and there, but nothing serious. I've inst.i.tuted corrective actions, and we'll be ready."

Drummer nodded uneasily. Brad waited. Drummer's next words came with awkward hesitation.

"Ah -- when Narval gave us his final orders, I -- ah -- sensed, correct me if I'm wrong, some misgivings on your part."

"Misgivings? What do you mean?"

"Before we proceed, I must have your word that whatever we discuss here will be held by you in the strictest confidence. Have I your word?"

Brad stared long and hard at Drummer. He thought back to Scarf's accusations and threats preceding the fight in the Charnel Pit. Did Drummer really support Narval? What was Drummer's real objective?

Time was short; yet Brad had to be certain.

"You have my word."

"Now respond to my first statement."

"Affirmative."

Drummer gave a heavy sigh and motioned Brad to a bench along a bulkhead. They sat and stared at the bulkhead opposite.

"How far will you go to take the Terminals?"

Drummer asked.

"Destructively?"

"Yes."

"You're in command of the combined fleet, Drummer.

You tell me."

A deep silence settled between them. Drummer brought his eyes around to where he could observe Brad's profile. His breath became shallow.

"What I now say to you, Brad, puts my life in your hands, but say it I must." He paused, as if to gather strength and conviction, and to organize his thoughts. "I believe that Narval is deranged. He would rather see the Solar System's civilization's grovel in the dust than have them advance, even survive, without him as their ruler."

"Are you suggesting he be stopped?"

"He must be."