Black Steel by Steve Perry

perhaps ten percent of them assorted mues.
    Two of Cierto's students, Miguel and Juanita, stood guard just outside the door to this, the biggest of the eight rooms in the suite; the other students, Luis and Dona, were stationed at the entrances in the hallway. The rooms had been swept for listening devices, of which there had been none.
    Jaan said, "The defenses were the best the Confed could devise when they were first installed. Nothing without clearance is allowed to overfly the area, save at orbital heights, and these satellites are all tracked. Any craft below that is warned by automatic transmissions; if they do not change course, they are shot down.
    "There is the fence, of course. Anyone attempting to climb or cut through it is pinpointed on the security sensors. Guards can reach any area of the perimeter within a few minutes from one of the two hundred stations just inside the wire. And there are sensors underground to prevent digging.
    "While the entire complex is too vast to cover every square meter with movement sensors, there are enough of them strategically located to make movement for more than a klick or two very risky. Armed guards patrol key lanes among the trees, as do heat reader dins."
    Cierto waved one hand in dismissal. Circumventing even the best security was not impossible; for every device invented to stop someone, a counterdevice was almost always created. His own estate's security was similar, though probably of a lesser degree of thoroughness. No, merely being able to get into an area the size of a country was not the problem. Locating the quarry exactly and arranging all the steps necessary to take him were apt to be more difficult. Still, with the proper equipment and a certain level of adeptness, it could be done.
    "Tell me," he said. "This plant, will it burn?"
    In the days after their arrival, Sleel and Reason could have easily fallen into a very dull routine. Sleel's parents lived in their world, unaffected by and nearly oblivious of their guests. The weather was hot and muggy, activities outside of the scientific work almost nonexistent, and by and large, the two men were ignored. Sleel worked out, practiced shooting, and waited for Dirisha to get back to him with whatever information she could find. Of course, he also tied into the local nets, checking for what he expected, somebody come looking for them.
    As a matador, Sleel knew there were no truly secure places. But like the old castles which had specially built floors that creaked and sang when trod upon, getting to the center of The Brambles would require a certain amount of noise. The trick was in knowing what to listen for.
    So he trained and listened and waited. Like watching an intricate game of Go or chess, it was slow, at times boring, even when lives were at risk. Still, it had to be done.
    Three weeks after they had arrived, there came a distant electronic creak at the entrance to the castle.
    Sleel heard it during his morning scan of the security database he had built.
    There was a private ship hanging in high orbit over the world.
    On Earth or Mason or Vishnu or any one of a dozen other planets thick with humanity, a private ship would draw little attention. Even though the monies needed for interstellar travel were vast compared to what an ordinary middle-class citizen had, there were in the galaxy hundreds of thousands of those rich enough to afford such things. Here on Mtu, the main visitors were scientists, and they usually came by commercial transport or foundation charters, science per se being not nearly so well-paying a career field as entertainment or sports. According to Sleel's sources at Orbital Control, this vessel was registered to a corporation on Rift, in the Delta System. The ship was called The Lanza.
    Not a major warning bell, but enough to tickle Sleel's attention. A small creak, maybe only the settling of the house caused by a temperature change. Or maybe not. Sleel plugged it into his consciousness, and