Ivan.
Does this have something to do with me?
Mission orders rescinded?
Ivan nodded.
Whatever was happening here wasn’t routine, and Jordan apparently didn’t like it either.
What could he do?
If they were here for him, it was over.
He watched Captain Scott punch the control, and the hatch opened. There was the clang of feet—many feet—on the metal steps. Then three troopers entered the passengers’ cabin.
Everyone reacted. Sitting up straight as if in school.
The old-timer at the front asked again, “What the hell’s going on?”
But the troopers ignored him. Each had his hand locked on their rifles, as if ready to take the passengers out.
Then their commander entered. He was smiling.
Not always a good sign, Ivan thought.
His stomach tightened. If the troopers were here for him, he was helpless.
Unless...
He looked at the troopers, their guns, weighing possibilities.
If they come for me, do I fight?
Other people might get hurt.
The SRV’s gunner now looked at the troopers as if they were hostile invaders.
“Take it easy, old-timer. McGowan, right? The miner?” the commander said, still all smiles. “No need to worry, folks. We’re here to help.”
~ * ~
11
COUNCIL’S ORDERS
Here to help?
Yeah, right...
Nahara placed his right hand on his upper leg and squeezed the data crystal in his pants pocket.
Checking.
Paranoid now.
Thinking: Maybe they know!
How could they have found out?
I didn’t log out of Humphries’s computer....Anyone with half an ounce of brains or suspicion could search the history and see what I did...the data I downloaded.
Dead easy.
A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. His paranoia, so obvious, like the slick of oil on his skin when he wiped it with the flat of his hand. He tried to see if any of the troopers were focusing on him.
He glanced at the miner and saw his obvious reaction: he was pissed at the interruption. Maybe he was anxious to get out of the SRV and stretch his legs. Grab a beer.
Nahara thought: I need to look... unconcerned.
The tension inside him was so bad, he wanted to leap up out of his seat and run out the door, screaming: “You got me!”
How far would he get across the tarmac before they gunned him down?
And even if he avoided them, where the hell would he go?
He’d be trapped on this jungle planet.
Carnivorous plants!
He felt sick.
He took a breath.
Then: No one’s on to me. Humphries is too stupid to suspect a thing. All I have to do is —
“We have orders to escort you to your final destination—Omega Nine,” the World Council commander said.
Using his jacket sleeve, Nahara wiped the sweat from his forehead.
It’s all good...for now.
~ * ~
Annie shook her head.
“Since when has a commercial passenger coach been important enough to warrant military protection?”
“We don’t need your protection,” Jordan added.
“Just following orders, Captain.”
“Can we talk in the cockpit?” Annie asked, leaning close.
“No. Your passengers should know what’s going on,” Lahti said, turning around to face the cabin, his smile now faded.
“You all knew the risks when you signed on to come out here. That goes with the Road. But there have been reports of Runner activity that”—he turned to look at Annie again—”that warrants our protection. I’m sure you can all appreciate the added security of having a World Council troop ship along for the trip.”
Already Annie felt like this wasn’t her SRV anymore.
A damned troop ship.
But what choice do I have?
“We’ll all be leaving—together—as soon as we refuel and re-ionize the ship’s induction vents,” Lahti said. “So don’t wander too far.” With that, he turned and exited the ship.
~ *
Does this have something to do with me?
Mission orders rescinded?
Ivan nodded.
Whatever was happening here wasn’t routine, and Jordan apparently didn’t like it either.
What could he do?
If they were here for him, it was over.
He watched Captain Scott punch the control, and the hatch opened. There was the clang of feet—many feet—on the metal steps. Then three troopers entered the passengers’ cabin.
Everyone reacted. Sitting up straight as if in school.
The old-timer at the front asked again, “What the hell’s going on?”
But the troopers ignored him. Each had his hand locked on their rifles, as if ready to take the passengers out.
Then their commander entered. He was smiling.
Not always a good sign, Ivan thought.
His stomach tightened. If the troopers were here for him, he was helpless.
Unless...
He looked at the troopers, their guns, weighing possibilities.
If they come for me, do I fight?
Other people might get hurt.
The SRV’s gunner now looked at the troopers as if they were hostile invaders.
“Take it easy, old-timer. McGowan, right? The miner?” the commander said, still all smiles. “No need to worry, folks. We’re here to help.”
~ * ~
11
COUNCIL’S ORDERS
Here to help?
Yeah, right...
Nahara placed his right hand on his upper leg and squeezed the data crystal in his pants pocket.
Checking.
Paranoid now.
Thinking: Maybe they know!
How could they have found out?
I didn’t log out of Humphries’s computer....Anyone with half an ounce of brains or suspicion could search the history and see what I did...the data I downloaded.
Dead easy.
A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. His paranoia, so obvious, like the slick of oil on his skin when he wiped it with the flat of his hand. He tried to see if any of the troopers were focusing on him.
He glanced at the miner and saw his obvious reaction: he was pissed at the interruption. Maybe he was anxious to get out of the SRV and stretch his legs. Grab a beer.
Nahara thought: I need to look... unconcerned.
The tension inside him was so bad, he wanted to leap up out of his seat and run out the door, screaming: “You got me!”
How far would he get across the tarmac before they gunned him down?
And even if he avoided them, where the hell would he go?
He’d be trapped on this jungle planet.
Carnivorous plants!
He felt sick.
He took a breath.
Then: No one’s on to me. Humphries is too stupid to suspect a thing. All I have to do is —
“We have orders to escort you to your final destination—Omega Nine,” the World Council commander said.
Using his jacket sleeve, Nahara wiped the sweat from his forehead.
It’s all good...for now.
~ * ~
Annie shook her head.
“Since when has a commercial passenger coach been important enough to warrant military protection?”
“We don’t need your protection,” Jordan added.
“Just following orders, Captain.”
“Can we talk in the cockpit?” Annie asked, leaning close.
“No. Your passengers should know what’s going on,” Lahti said, turning around to face the cabin, his smile now faded.
“You all knew the risks when you signed on to come out here. That goes with the Road. But there have been reports of Runner activity that”—he turned to look at Annie again—”that warrants our protection. I’m sure you can all appreciate the added security of having a World Council troop ship along for the trip.”
Already Annie felt like this wasn’t her SRV anymore.
A damned troop ship.
But what choice do I have?
“We’ll all be leaving—together—as soon as we refuel and re-ionize the ship’s induction vents,” Lahti said. “So don’t wander too far.” With that, he turned and exited the ship.
~ *
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