Jatanski?”
“Yes, eminently,”
Jamil murmured. He shoved himself away from the bar. Perhaps I can find Xris,
warn him. This smells like a trap. “I’ll just go back to my quarters, get my
gear.”
“I’m sorry, sir,
but we need you to come straight to the spaceplane. The trial is being held on
the command cruiser King James II, General Hanson’s flagship. It is just
now entering this system. Captain Ng will fly us back.” The major turned to
Strebbins. “If you could send someone for the colonel’s luggage, sir ...”
“Certainly,”
Strebbins said heartily.
“That won’t be
necessary,” Jamil intervened. He had a few things in his luggage he’d just as
soon not be discovered, things like a nonregulation .23-decawatt pistol, the
vial containing the water-contaminating virus, the hand-drawn map of the base. “Captain
Kergonan will take care of it for me.”
“Are you sure?”
Strebbins asked. “You don’t want to go before old Iron Guts Hanson without a
clean pair of socks.”
“Yes, no question.”
Jamil was firm. “Captain Kergonan will take care of everything. If you would
give him that message—that he is to carry on in my absence.” He glanced
uncertainly at the major.
The major nodded. “General
Hanson’s orders, sir.” He reached into the pocket of his flight jacket, pulled
out an envelope containing a disk. “I have that in writing. If you could see
that Captain Kergonan receives this, sir?”
“I’ll see to it,”
Strebbins said, took the computer disk, stood tapping it on the bar.
Jamil stared at
the disk, wished he could get a look at the orders, but it would have been
coded to Xris’s military I.D. number and personal password.
Of course, Xris
didn’t have a real military I.D. number, nor did he have a real password. He’d made that all up, had instructed Darlene to enter it into the
military’s computer files before they left. Someone had gone to one hell of a
lot of trouble to ferret them out!
And for what?
Jamil had no idea.
“If you please,
sir. The spaceplane is being refueled. The car is waiting.” The major was
obviously impatient to leave.
Strebbins offered
his hand. “Good luck, Jatanski. Glad it’s you and not me. Hate these damn
courts-martial. Always put me to sleep. And I was really looking forward to
your lecture, too. But I’ve no doubt that Captain Kergonan will manage fine.”
“I’m sure he will,
sir,” Jamil said.
“We have every
confidence in the captain, sir,” the major added, saluting. He accompanied
Jamil out of the bar, into the foyer. Here he introduced Jamil to the pilot,
who nodded curtly and intimated that they were running behind schedule.
A vehic was
waiting for them outside the mess; not the staff car, with its fluttering
flags, but a hoverjeep. The major kept close behind him. Jamil ignored the man,
paused a moment, glanced around, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of
Xris.
No such luck.
Jamil climbed in
the back of the hoverjeep alongside the major. The pilot sat in front. Major
VanDerGard apologized for not taking the staff car to the airfield.
“This is quicker,
sir, if less comfortable.”
They had all just
barely settled themselves when the driver launched the jeep into the air, sped
toward the airfield.
The ride was fast
and uneventful. No one said much of anything, mainly because no one else would
have been able to hear what was said over the roar and rattle of the hoverjeep,
which had seen better days. VanDerGard must have commandeered the first vehic
he found. The pilot sat up front beside the driver, keeping fast hold of her
helmet on her lap. She paid no attention to them, never once glanced back.
VanDerGard braced himself in his corner, one arm on the doorframe. Jamil kept a
firm grip on the back of the seat.
The hoverjeep was
covered with a fine coat of the red Pandoran sand. The jeep’s frame rattled and
shook and bounced over the uneven terrain. Its air jets must have been out of
sync, for there
“Yes, eminently,”
Jamil murmured. He shoved himself away from the bar. Perhaps I can find Xris,
warn him. This smells like a trap. “I’ll just go back to my quarters, get my
gear.”
“I’m sorry, sir,
but we need you to come straight to the spaceplane. The trial is being held on
the command cruiser King James II, General Hanson’s flagship. It is just
now entering this system. Captain Ng will fly us back.” The major turned to
Strebbins. “If you could send someone for the colonel’s luggage, sir ...”
“Certainly,”
Strebbins said heartily.
“That won’t be
necessary,” Jamil intervened. He had a few things in his luggage he’d just as
soon not be discovered, things like a nonregulation .23-decawatt pistol, the
vial containing the water-contaminating virus, the hand-drawn map of the base. “Captain
Kergonan will take care of it for me.”
“Are you sure?”
Strebbins asked. “You don’t want to go before old Iron Guts Hanson without a
clean pair of socks.”
“Yes, no question.”
Jamil was firm. “Captain Kergonan will take care of everything. If you would
give him that message—that he is to carry on in my absence.” He glanced
uncertainly at the major.
The major nodded. “General
Hanson’s orders, sir.” He reached into the pocket of his flight jacket, pulled
out an envelope containing a disk. “I have that in writing. If you could see
that Captain Kergonan receives this, sir?”
“I’ll see to it,”
Strebbins said, took the computer disk, stood tapping it on the bar.
Jamil stared at
the disk, wished he could get a look at the orders, but it would have been
coded to Xris’s military I.D. number and personal password.
Of course, Xris
didn’t have a real military I.D. number, nor did he have a real password. He’d made that all up, had instructed Darlene to enter it into the
military’s computer files before they left. Someone had gone to one hell of a
lot of trouble to ferret them out!
And for what?
Jamil had no idea.
“If you please,
sir. The spaceplane is being refueled. The car is waiting.” The major was
obviously impatient to leave.
Strebbins offered
his hand. “Good luck, Jatanski. Glad it’s you and not me. Hate these damn
courts-martial. Always put me to sleep. And I was really looking forward to
your lecture, too. But I’ve no doubt that Captain Kergonan will manage fine.”
“I’m sure he will,
sir,” Jamil said.
“We have every
confidence in the captain, sir,” the major added, saluting. He accompanied
Jamil out of the bar, into the foyer. Here he introduced Jamil to the pilot,
who nodded curtly and intimated that they were running behind schedule.
A vehic was
waiting for them outside the mess; not the staff car, with its fluttering
flags, but a hoverjeep. The major kept close behind him. Jamil ignored the man,
paused a moment, glanced around, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of
Xris.
No such luck.
Jamil climbed in
the back of the hoverjeep alongside the major. The pilot sat in front. Major
VanDerGard apologized for not taking the staff car to the airfield.
“This is quicker,
sir, if less comfortable.”
They had all just
barely settled themselves when the driver launched the jeep into the air, sped
toward the airfield.
The ride was fast
and uneventful. No one said much of anything, mainly because no one else would
have been able to hear what was said over the roar and rattle of the hoverjeep,
which had seen better days. VanDerGard must have commandeered the first vehic
he found. The pilot sat up front beside the driver, keeping fast hold of her
helmet on her lap. She paid no attention to them, never once glanced back.
VanDerGard braced himself in his corner, one arm on the doorframe. Jamil kept a
firm grip on the back of the seat.
The hoverjeep was
covered with a fine coat of the red Pandoran sand. The jeep’s frame rattled and
shook and bounced over the uneven terrain. Its air jets must have been out of
sync, for there
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