[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
be meeting a guy, an
Evdashian marine noncom who'd be driving a marine floater. He was a courier
with a pass authorizing him to enter the scout park-the small landing field
where naval scouts were parked when not on station. This guy knew which craft
were ready to fly.
What he would try to do was drive into the scout pool, something his pass
didn't authorize. He'd claim to have high-security packages to put aboard one
of the scouts.
Our man was waiting for us in the employee parking lot at the local utilities
central, a civilian agency. Piet's floater didn't emit the proper
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
identification signal and would have been shot out of the air if we'd tried to
fly it into the air space of a military installation. Piet parked a hundred
feet from the marine vehicle, got out, then stood pretending to talk to us
through the rear window.
That was the signal. A few seconds later the marine floater drifted over,
stopped, and we got in.
In the back of the marine floater was a box with a handle at each corner. The
marine told Tarel and me to take out our blast pistols and hold them
conspicuously in our laps; that was how courier escorts would carry them. Gate
guards would check us, and we were to make and keep eye contact with them
while they looked us over; it would be expected of us.
At the field we were stopped at two security gates.
At each, a marine guard came over to the floater while two others stood nearby
with blast rifles ready, pointed in our direction, guard canids at heel. After
questioning our driver briefly and examining his pass, the guard looked into
the floater, taking in our uniforms and weapons. At each gate the guard's hand
lamp paused on Jenoor and
Deneen. In the Evdashian Marines, women were almost solely clerical personnel.
And besides, both Deneen and Jenoor looked awfully young.
Their attache cases may have helped, but I believe it was Bubba who cleared
us. At each gate, after the guard's lamp beam dipped to examine him, the guy
waved us through. Our having an apparent guard canid made us real to them.
Finally we were in the scout pool, moving down a
broad service lane a foot or so above the pavement.
Our driver stopped about twenty-five yards from the nearest scout, a
forty-five-foot patrol scout. The area was lit more than I liked, by lights on
tall poles around the perimeter of the field.
"That's it," the sergeant said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the scout.
"Piet, get out with the canid and stand about ten yards in the other
direction. Keep looking around, but act bored. And light up a weed; it'll make
things look relaxed."
"I don't smoke."
"Have one of mine. Here's my lighter." He turned to
Jenoor and Deneen. "You two walk with me. And you two," he added to Tarel and
me, "follow us with your sidearms in your hands, looking as if you're guarding
us. But not as if you're worried. Could be no one's actually watching us, but
we need to look as if what we're doing is entirely according to regulations.
Nothing sneaky is going on, and nothing tense-nothing worth paying attention
to. Got it?"
Tarel and I answered yes in unison, and we started out. At the scout, our
marine put an ID plate in the slot and the door opened. We got aboard. The
marine took a hand lamp off his belt and, without turning it on, put it on the
deck.
"Don't turn on any ship's lights, not even inside,"
he said. "That would draw attention." He looked at
Tarel and me. "And I don't want any needless activity out here either, for the
same reason, so you two stay aboard." He turned to Jenoor and Deneen. "Come
on."
With no more than that, he stepped down the ramp onto the pavement again, the
girls close behind. My guts tightened; something about this didn't feel right.
I
told myself it was being separated from Jenoor and
Deneen in a situation like this, and I watched them cross the pavement to the
floater. There the sergeant apparently said something to Piet, because Piet,
with
Bubba beside him, walked over to them with his blaster still at the ready.
Page 24
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The marine got into the floater, then backed out, pulling the box I'd noticed.
Again I could hear his voice, quiet but fast. He took the handles at one end
and the girls took the handles at the other, and they started toward the
scout.
Beside me, Bubba growled. Then a floodlight beam speared through the night to
bathe them in brightness. From across the field a loud-hailer called for them
to stop. They did, for just a moment, then started for the scout, still
carrying the box.
The guard tower didn't use its blasters. Maybe they thought the package was
contraband and didn't want to destroy it. Instead, projectile weapons ruptured
the silent night with bitter racket. Bullets struck the side of the scout, and
both Tarel and I ducked back out of the open door. Scant seconds later, Deneen
and
Bubba came dragging the box.
"Close the door!" she yelled as they came through it.
"Close it now!"
"No!" I cried. "The others!"
She screamed in my face. "The others are shot! Close the door!"
Instead I dove for it, blast pistol in hand, and started down the ramp. Then
strong hands grabbed the back of my jumpsuit. I twisted. It was Tarel holding
me, and I yelled at him. The heel of his hand slammed me in the forehead.
Lights flashed in the space behind my eyes, and for a moment there was only
blackness. I was vaguely aware that someone, Tarel, was dragging me back into
the scout, and that the projectile weapons were firing again. Inside, Deneen
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]