“I’m aware of that,” Lopé admitted, “but I need you. I need to be a part of this, even if I just go along as an observer. Rosenthal wants in, too.”
Bevridge sat back and sighed. “It’s true that we’re going to the country, but this isn’t a picnic outing, what? These people are likely have weapons. They probably have access to explosives. It’s very possible there may be a firefight.”
“I’m counting on it.” A thin smile lit the sergeant’s face, teeth appearing through his beard.
Up to that point, Rosenthal had sat silently in a corner of the office. Now she addressed the security chief.
“What I don’t understand is why it’s so important to Yutani to keep this quiet.” Using her fingers, she ticked off the relevant points. “First these crazies threaten to sabotage the Covenant. Then they try to kidnap his daughter. They try to slip another of their people onto the ship and when that fails…” She gestured at Lopé. “They make an effort to kill the sergeant here.” She shook her head. “What does it matter if their takedown goes wide spectrum? If anything, I’d think the story would get the company some sympathy. After all, there’s widespread support for the whole colonization program.”
Bevridge listened politely before replying. “That’s why you’re a security team private, I’m a security team administrator, and Hideo Yutani is head of one of the planet’s largest companies, old gal. From every bit of intelligence we’ve been able to garner, these ‘Earthsavers’ are a quasi-religious group. They have a designated ‘prophet.’” He eyed each of them in turn. “We here may think of them as dangerous nuts—”
“They are dangerous nuts,” Lopé put in.
Bevridge stayed patient. “But others will hear the words ‘prophet’ and ‘religious.’ If there’s a real skirmish and some people die, there are addled but important individuals who will raise some unpleasant questions. Before you know it, Weyland-Yutani will be accused of exterminating some harmless flock of deluded but innocent pastoralists.”
Lopé made a rude noise. “Given what they’ve tried already, I don’t see that label sticking.”
“No,” Bevridge declared emphatically, “and neither do I, but the company doesn’t want to take the chance. So this operation is to be carried out as inconspicuously as possible. A little water here, a little soap there, and as few bullets as possible.”
The sergeant nodded. “I can apply soap.” Nearby, Rosenthal nodded in agreement.
Bevridge glanced briefly toward the ceiling. “I can see you’re not going to be sensible about this, old chap.”
“If we were sensible,” Rosenthal told him evenly, “we wouldn’t be putting ourselves in deepsleep to be awakened at an unknown world with no prospect of coming home.”
Bevridge wasn’t mollified. “Well, I wasn’t told to keep you away. If you insist on coming…”
Lopé flicked a glance at Rosenthal. It was unnecessary. “We do.”
“… then just try to keep out of the way.”
Lopé nodded solemnly. “That’s me. I’m an expert at keeping out of the way.”
“And I’ll be sure to follow the sergeant’s lead,” Rosenthal added politely.
Then Lopé changed the subject to something he’d been wondering about for several days. “How did the company finally locate these cheerful anarchists, anyway?”
“It seems that these self-proclaimed Earthsavers decided to try and persuade Hideo Yutani himself of the rightness of their cause.” Bevridge folded his hands on his desk. “They managed to hack the private communications system in his home, and spent some time making an earnest effort to convert him, based on their prophet’s nightmares.”
Rosenthal was dubious. “All these attempts to stop the colonization mission, based on some whack job’s bad dreams?”
Bevridge nodded. “Their organization is founded on them. Apparently more than a few people find them convincing. Believable enough to give their lives to their misguided cause.” He shrugged. “It’s been like that throughout history. Somebody charismatic or convincing enough comes along with a good story, and even folk who you’d think would know better abandon all reason in the service of something that on the face of it makes no sense.”
“This prophet,” he continued, “who by the way has been identified as an ex-pharmacist from Lower Taunton…”
“‘Ex-pharmacist.’” Rosenthal was smirking. “That explains a lot right there.”
“Name of Duncan Fields, apparently has recurrent nightmares or visions in which he sees hordes of ravenous creatures just waiting ‘out there’ to encounter space-traversing humans so they can follow them back to Earth and ravage the planet.”
“They’re too late.” The private was on a roll. “We’ve already done that ourselves.”
“All of this information, including the location of their center of operations, was obtained when their exchange with Yutani was analyzed. There were half a dozen individuals who participated in the broadcast. All six have been identified. They masked themselves digitally for the exchange, of course, and utilized several proxy connections.
“These Earthsavers are smart and they’re clever,” he said, “but they are neither the smartest nor the cleverest. The company has access to military-grade decryption and descrambling technology. Their visual masking was excellent. Our people were unable to resolve individual faces, but the aural masking—to which such people would understandably pay less attention—proved decipherable.
“Once we had their real voices, we were able to match them across public recordings of everyone currently residing in the British Isles. We could have ranged further, but that turned out not to be necessary.” He sat back.
“So we’ve been able to monitor several of their inter-organizational exchanges, and know where they are hiding. If you still insist on participating when we close them down, be downstairs in the restricted loading area tomorrow morning at six. I suggest you eat something before you arrive.” He offered a wan smile. “It’s a bit of a drive out to Hampshire, and we won’t be stopping for breakfast.”
Neither Lopé nor Rosenthal had trouble sleeping. Being able to get adequate rest prior to a potentially dangerous operation was part of their training. They awoke, ate, performed the necessary ablutions, and met at the rendezvous.
Even Lopé was impressed by the preparations. A dozen fully armed transporters, artfully disguised as ordinary delivery trucks, were lined up on the lowermost level of the company storage building. As he and Rosenthal made their way across the floor, clusters of grim-faced Weyland-Yutani security personnel were boarding the vehicles. The sergeant quick-counted more than a hundred. Not knowing the strength of the organization they were going to face, and their efforts thus far seemed to indicate deep pockets. It was plain that Bevridge was taking no chances. A show of overwhelming force, Lopé knew, might stop a fight before it started.
There were also several smaller vehicles. Espying Bevridge, the two members of the Covenant’s crew made their way over to him. As soon as the security chief saw them he stopped giving orders and greeted them solemnly.
“You can ride with me.” Turning, he led the way toward what appeared to be an unremarkable family vehicle. Only someone with a trained eye would have noticed such non-domestic details as the shatterproof windows, puncture-proof tires, and half-centimeter of armor plating.
They clambered in. Behind them, the whine of powerful electric motors began to whisper through the underground parking area. Lopé and Rosenthal sat in the middle row, with two armed members of the security team in the seats behind them.