Carter found his Luger, then pulled the native to his feet. The brown-skinned man was just coming around, and as soon as his eyes focused he began to struggle. Carter thrust the Luger's barrel above the man's nose, directly between his eyes, and the native immediately settled down, his eyes rolling in hate and fear.
Fenster was just picking himself up. "You son-of-a-bitching bastard…"he started.
"Get hold of yourself, Fenster!" Carter barked. "We've got work to do!"
"The goddamned Poly…"
Carter looked at the security chief in disgust, then hauled the native around. With the Luger jammed into the little man's neck behind his right ear, he marched him back to the limo.
Without a word Gabrielle opened the rear door on the side opposite from where Tieggs lay, and Carter shoved the native inside and got in after him.
Fenster came over to the car. "Where the hell are you taking him?"
"The dispensary."
"He's not hurt."
"There are a few questions I'd like to ask him, Fenster," Carter snapped with exasperation. "This is the second all-out attack on this base. Hasn't it occurred to you to take a prisoner and question him? Or at the very least put up a helicopter to find out where the hell these people are coming from?"
Fenster climbed into the front seat as Gabrielle got in behind the wheel. He looked at her for a second or two, then inclined his head. "Mrs. Rondine. It is a surprise to see you out here this evening."
"Which way to the dispensary?" Carter asked from the back seat.
"It's up toward Administration," Fenster said, turning around. He spotted Tieggs on the back seat. "Christ! What happened to Bob?"
"He had an accident on the road coming up here."
"Turn around," Fenster instructed Gabrielle. "The dispensary is the other way up from the main gate."
There were several bodies lying here and there on and along the access roads up from the main gate toward the administration building area. Most of them were brown-skinned natives, however. Only a few technicians had been killed or wounded.
One of the barracks down the hill from the radomes had been set on fire. A half-dozen technicians were fighting the blaze, which had already consumed most of the building. A pump was going — the jackhammer noise — and they were playing streams of water on the adjacent buildings. The barracks was a lost cause.
Justin Owen was just coming out of the administration building when they pulled up across the street from it. The front of his khaki shirt was covered with blood.
Carter opened the door, got out, and pulled the native out after him.
"You got one of the bastards," the station manager shouted hoarsely as he hobbled across the street.
Gabrielle and Fenster had both gotten out of the car.
"Get up to the dispensary and get someone to come out for Tieggs," Carter told Fenster.
For just a moment it seemed as if the man would not take any orders from Carter, but then he turned on his heel and stalked up the walk and into the building.
Owen started to reach for his.45 when he got across the street, but Carter stopped him. "He's more valuable to us alive than dead."
They were speaking in English, and it did not appear that the native understood a word they were saying. But he was obviously very frightened. He kept looking up at the radomes and the antenna farm as if they were some sort of monsters that would leap out after him at any moment. He had shown a lot of courage facing Carter back at the generator sheds. But now he was frightened.
Curious, Carter thought. He looked around, suddenly conscious of the fact there were no Orientals around. Normally they were all over the place. But none were in sight at this moment. Even more curious.
"Good evening. Madame Rondine," Owen was saying, seeming to suddenly realize who she was. "I don't know if it is wise that you remain here. There still could be danger."
"She's staying with us," Carter said.
"What?" Owen asked. He was very confused by everything that had happened, although he did not appear to be wounded. The blood on his khakis looked as if it had been splashed on him.
"She's leaving her husband. She's asked for political asylum."
"Oh, Christ," Owen groaned. "We don't need this, Carter."
"Later," Carter snapped. "For now I want this one in the dispensary."
"Is he hurt?"
"No. I want to question him."
"The dispensary is full. We can use my office," Owen said distastefully.
Fenster came out of the dispensary with two men who carried a stretcher.
They gently eased Tieggs out of the back seat and carried him into the dispensary.
"What about him?" Fenster asked, looking at the native.
"We're taking him to my office," Owen replied.
They went back across the road and into the administration building. Carter had to half drag, half carry the native, who did not want to move no matter how harshly he was prodded with the gun.
Inside, there were a number of people hurrying back and forth. Owen stopped one of the techs.
"How about our communications dish?" he asked.
"We just about have it realigned, Mr. Owen," the harried tech said.
"We'll have communications with the States within the next half hour?"
"Or sooner."
"I want nothing out in the clear, do you understand that? Not a damned thing."
"Yes, sir."
"Nothing by radio or by telephone. There are too many ears out there."
"Yes, sir. As soon as the link is ready, we'll patch it through our crypto circuits."
"Good man," Owen said. "I want the en clair switchboard completely off line."
"Yes, sir," the technician said, and he hurried out of the building.
"This is the second time we've been caught with our pants down around our ankles. I don't want to broadcast it for any Tom, Dick, or Harry who has a communications receiver to hear."
"If you hadn't ordered it, I would have," Carter said.
Gabrielle had been standing silently a few feet from the men. Carter glanced at her, then back at Owen.
"Have you someplace for her to stay?" he asked.
"She can have the VIP quarters next to yours. But I don't think this is such a good idea."
"I'll take the responsibility that State will clear it," Carter said. He turned back to her. "Perhaps it would be best if you went up to your room."
Gabrielle managed a slight smile. "You want to question this man," she said. "How do you plan on accomplishing it?"
"I don't understand," Carter said.
"She means in what language," Fenster said. "Most of these Polys here don't speak English or French."
"He is correct," Gabrielle said. She looked at the native. "He probably speaks a pidgin Chinese, Japanese, and Malaysian."
"Fenster?" Carter asked. The security chief shook his head. "Owen?" The station manager shook his head.
"I speak it," Gabrielle said softly.
"Right," Carter said. It was about what he had suspected. There was something drastically wrong here. A security chief who didn't know what the hell he was doing. A station manager who was inept. Orientals who were everywhere except when trouble came. Natives who came and went at will. A French governor who was obviously involved with the troubles the base was having, yet nothing could be proved. And now the governor's wife showing up as the only translator.
They all went into Owen's office. The native seemed much calmer now that they were out of sight of the radomes and antenna farm.
Carter had him sit in a chair facing the window. The blinds were drawn.
"Ask him why his people attacked this base," Carter told Gabrielle.
She came up beside the man and looked into his eyes. He stared up at her, unblinking, unsmiling. She spoke, the pidgin language a soft, tonal series of vowel sounds punctuated by glottal stops.