Authors: Chris Bunch; Allan Cole
…Sten oozed from the vent in the wall, his eyes on the patrolman's back…
"No," Mahoney said, "it's not that."
Sten was lying on an operating table. Electrodes attached to his head, arms, and legs leading to a small steel box. The box drove a computer screen.
Mahoney, Rykor, and a white-coated Tech watched the screen and saw Sten drag the patrolman back to the vent and stuff him in. Rykor checked Sten's vital signs on another display, then motioned to the Tech. He tapped keys and more images appeared on the screen.
…Sten and the other Delinqs were at Thoresen's door. Beside him was Bet. She took a plastic rod from a pocket. Positioned it in the middle of the door's panel…Bet…Bet…Bet…Bet…
"Wait," Rykor snapped.
And her Tech put the probe on hold. Bet's image froze on the screen. Rykor leaned over Sten and injected a tranquil. Sten's
body relaxed. Rykor checked the medcomputer, then nodded at the Tech to continue.
…And Sten stepped into Thoresen's quarters…They were in another world…an exotic, friendly jungle…except…Sten spotted a motion detector…leaped…knife plunging into it.
"Almost there," Mahoney said. "Flip forward a few minutes."
…Papers and more papers spilled from Thoresen's safe…And then Oron had it, a thick, red folder labeled BRAVO PROJECT.
"Hold it," Mahoney said. "Stop right now."
"Is that what you're looking for?" Rykor asked.
"Yes."
"And you want me—us—out."
"Yes."
Rykor signaled her Tech to wheel her out.
"Watch his vital signs," she said. "If they even flicker, shut the probe off."
"I can run it," Mahoney said.
Reluctantly, Rykor and her Tech left. Mahoney returned to the probe, started flipping through.
Oron's expression went blank and the folder spilled. Sten hastily tried to pick the pages up as they spilled over the floor.
He wasn't even reading what was on them, but his mind registered images.
Mahoney cursed at himself as he froze the image of each sheet of paper. His fingers were clumsy at the computer keys as he hardcopied the display.
Clot—it was there all the time in Sten's
brain!
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MAHONEY STOOD AT full attention before the Emperor.
"AM ," the Emperor whispered to himself. "Yes. Yes, it makes 2
sense. He just might be able…"
He looked up at Mahoney, puzzled for a minute, then spoke.
"At ease, colonel."
Mahoney slid to a smooth, formal at rest.
"You've told me the facts," the Emperor said. "Thoresen seems to be on the verge of artificially creating Antimatter Two. That's Bravo Project. Fine. Now, what are your feelings? Guesses.
Half-thoughts, even."
"The Empire runs on Antimatter Two," Mahoney said. "You control the source. No one, except you, knows where that source is. Therefore—"
"I am the Emperor," the Emperor said. "AM makes me that.
2
And since I am sane, and since I am…always, I provide absolute stability to the galaxy."
"And Thoresen is thinking he can replace you," Mahoney said.
The Emperor shook his head. "No. You underestimate Thoresen. The Baron is a subtle man. If he could successfully manufacture AM —which, by the way, no one, not even I, knows 2
how to do—it would still be much more expensive than what I provide."
"So what's his game?" Mahoney asked.
"Probably blackmail," the Emperor said. "It would be cheaper and far more rewarding to threaten. If everyone knows how to make AM , then I am not needed. Of course, he's not bright 2
enough to realize that proliferation of this knowledge would mean the fall of the Empire. Which no one, including Thoresen, wants. But in the meantime, we must be prepared for Thoresen to suddenly quote us a very high price for something."
"Which would be?"
"It doesn't matter," the Emperor said. "What matters is that we stop him. Now."
Mahoney moved to attention again.
"I want this kept quiet," the Emperor said. "So. Use a Mantis Section team. First, foment revolt. Second, capture Thoresen—alive, you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, with Vulcan in revolt, I shall officially be forced to land the Imperial Guard to restore order. Naturally, someone other than Thoresen will be chosen to head the Company."
The Emperor picked up a drink, toyed with it, took a sip, frowned at the taste and put it down. Looked up at Mahoney again. Raised an eyebrow.
Mahoney snapped a salute. Wheeled. Marched to the door and exited. The Emperor studied his drink. Yes, he had seen to everything. Now it was up to Mahoney.
CHAPTER THIRTY
STEN AND THE other members of his team were gathered around the briefing table. Mahoney was at the head.
"And so," Mahoney said, "with Sten's background on Vulcan, this team would be the logical choice for the mission.
"Now, for the mission itself, I visualize a four-step program…"
Sten didn't even hesitate when Mahoney had asked if they would volunteer for the mission. He had a special reason for wanting to go, and even if the others on his team had refused, he would have figured a way out to squirm his way in.
Yes. A very special reason. When Mahoney had been flipping through his mind, he overlooked something. In the Bravo Project folder. Not that there was any reason why he should have noticed. It had been labeled: RECREATIONAL AREA 26: A SUMMARY OF ACTIONS. The Row.
Thoresen had ordered it destroyed. And had killed his family.
Mahoney finished. He looked around at the members of the team, his eyes stopping on Sten. "Any questions?"
"No, sir," Sten said. "No questions at all."
BOOK FOUR—RETURN
TO VULCAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THORESEN WAS PLEASED with himself. He strolled through his garden, pausing now and then to enjoy a flower. There had been a few glitches, but so far, everything was going according to plan. He was no longer concerned about threats from the Emperor. All possible leaks had been plugged. Even including that little matter of the Mig, Sten.
Sten was dead. Of that he was absolutely sure. Thoresen had just gotten the final information from his main contact on Prime World.
"I've breached Guard security," Crocker had boasted. "So this is straight from their computer."
"What does that mean," the Baron asked, "except that you are going to charge me more?"
"It means your Sten is out of it for good. He was killed in a nasty training accident. A woman trooper was also killed."
Thoresen smiled. How convenient. No final payment due to the assassin.
"Good work. Now, what did you find out about my relations with the Emperor?"
"You're fine, there," Crocker said. "The last time there was a complaint—and it was a minor one—about Vulcan, the Emperor sent a personal reprimand to the complaining party. He said he did not want a patriot such as yourself maligned."
Thoresen plucked a flower. Sniffed at it. That, he didn't believe at all. He was sure the Emperor was playing some sort of game. But he wasn't worried. The only kind he could play was the waiting variety. And Bravo Project was almost complete.
Yes, the Baron had a great deal to be thankful for.
THIRTY-TWO
THE DRONE TUG shifted the huge boulder in its tractor grip and then nosed it against another. Ida cursed as she fought for control, slipped, and the boulders collided. Sten and the others slammed against the rock side, then tumbled toward the other as there was another loud thud.
"Would you get this clotting thing going?" Sten yelled at Ida.
"You're turning us into soyamush."
"I'm trying. I'm trying," Ida shouted back. She slid back into her seat and once again began to tap delicately at the computer keys.
Sten and the other members of the Mantis team were inside the boulder. It was actually a huge, hollowed hunk of ore fitted out as a minispaceship. Except, of course, there was no drive unit. Their tug provided that. Which was why everyone was cursing Ida, as she tried to maneuver the drone tug from inside the boulder.
"It's not my fault," she complained. "The damn drone doesn't have the brains of a microbe."
"Dinna be malignin' the wee beastie," Alex said. "Ye're the one giein' the brains—Ouch! Clot you, lass."
Ida grinned back at them. This time the big jolt had been on purpose.
"Maybe we better shut up," Sten said, "and let her drive."
Ida caressed the keys. Finally, the tug began to respond more smoothly. The boulder next to them moved away to a safer distance. The drone's drive units flared, and they began to drift slowly after it, toward Vulcan.
Sten had figured the perfect insertion method. Vulcan sent only unmanned tugs to the mining world, where all work was done by bots. A hollow boulder nearby carried their gear.
On the final approach to Vulcan, Ida punched at her computer, setting up an ECM blanket to fool Vulcan's sniffers, then put a finger to her lips, warning them unnecessarily to be quiet. A security capsule sniffed them over, then gave the drone tug clearance.
A jolt, whispered curses, and the tug started to move them toward a huge, yawning port. Then,
slam
, they were down.
"Clot, Ida," Jorgensen groaned. "Gimme a little humanity."
"That's her problem," Doc said. "She has too much of it."
And then they were moving along a slideway toward the thundering sound of grinding, giant teeth.
"This is where we get off," Sten said. "And quick."
They blew the port and scrambled out. About a hundred meters ahead of them waited the enormous jaws of a crusher.
Sten and Ida popped the other boulder open and began hauling out gear. Jorgensen patted a knapsack he was carrying. Inside, Frick and Frack were whining to get out.
They carried the gear to the edge of the moving belt, then slid down after it.
"Next time," Ida said as they stacked their things on a gravsled, "you drive."
"Can't," Sten said. "I think you broke my arm."
He ducked under her swinging fist, then jumped up on the sled. As the others climbed on, Sten switched the sled controls to manual and headed for their hiding place. He had spotted it when he was a Delinq. It was better than a hideout. It was a home, complete with access to food, drink and not-so-public transportation.