The Prison in Antares by Mike Resnick

it wrong.”
    She stepped back and gestured toward the computer. “Be my guest.”
    He grimaced and shook his head. “I apologize. You’re the best there is. If you say there’s no ships, there’s no ships.” He frowned. “But why? ”
    He was still wondering when he, Ortega, Snake, Irish, and Proto boarded a space sled and began descending toward the planet.

15
    â€œSo where is it?” said Snake, peering ahead.
    â€œWe’re going to have to trust Pandora and the instruments,” answered Pretorius. “If we could see it from here, or even from just a mile above it, it’d probably be the best-guarded hole in the ground you ever saw.”
    â€œWhat makes you think it isn’t?” she asked.
    â€œWe know what kind of weaponry the Antareans use, and the sensors couldn’t spot it,” said Pretorius. “That doesn’t mean we won’t be spotted, so Felix, keep alert. If there’s anything down there, don’t give it a chance to shoot first.”
    â€œRight,” said Ortega.
    â€œIs there anything I can do?” asked Irish.
    â€œPlenty,” said Pretorius. “But first we have to get our hands on Nmumba.” He turned to Proto. “Okay, we know you can’t fool their instruments, but assuming we get past them, there’s got to be some Antareans on the train. Time to change into one.” He paused. “You studied their uniforms?”
    â€œYes,” answered the alien.
    â€œThey’ll never believe a general traveling without underlings,” continued Pretorius. “I think maybe a colonel or the equivalent, and make sure the insignia identifies you as security, something that just lets you look at them as if they were insects when they start questioning you about what you’re doing there.”
    â€œI’ll have to,” said Proto. “I don’t speak the language.”
    â€œNone of us do,” replied Pretorius. “Snake, pass out the t-packs. Most of the people we met in the Tradertown spoke some form of Terran, and that won’t be the case from here on.”
    She opened a box she had carried onto the sled with her and handed out tiny translator mechanisms to each member of the team.
    â€œThey’re set for Antarean, right?” said Ortega, attaching his to a metal shoulder blade.
    Pretorius couldn’t restrain a chuckle. “Wouldn’t be much use if they weren’t.”
    â€œJust checking,” said Ortega. “It wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t know what the hell an enemy was saying.”
    â€œNot on any mission with me,” replied Pretorius.
    â€œNo, not with you,” admitted Ortega. “But it’s made me a little cautious about these things.”
    â€œAll right,” said Pretorius. “Proto, where the hell is yours?”
    â€œRight here,” said Proto, indicating the image of his foot. “Remember, I’m just projecting a picture, so to speak. My image can’t support any physical objects.”
    â€œOkay,” said Pretorius. “Keep it hidden. Remember: you’re an Antarean, so obviously you don’t need a t-pack. And by the same token, don’t speak, because if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll see that your lips don’t match the sounds, and that the words are coming from your boots. Just look important and arrogant. Don’t speak to us, not in Terran, not in any language, for the same reason. We don’t want them spotting where the sound is coming from, even though you can make it match your lips in Terran.”
    â€œAre you sure we’re even going to encounter any Antareans?” asked Proto.
    â€œSomewhere below us is a Man who’s changed the balance of power in the war,” said Pretorius, “a man that our government will do anything to rescue. Wouldn’t you guard him?”
    â€œHow are we going to get onto or into