"What? And look like the biggest idiots in the Department? It's some student hacker or somebody, who's gotten into their system."
"But isn't that what we're here for? To convey information?"
"Yes. And also to evaluate information. I've been around since longer than yesterday. Any nursery-school kid could get through NAD security. I'm going to see Grat along the hall. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"Oh… tell Dira to file it in case someone needs the details some day. You never know, they might get smart enough to track it down." Negrikof continued muttering as he crossed the office. "As if we didn't have enough to do with Perasmon deciding he's coming here all of a sudden… Talking starships." He left, closing the door noisily.
Vesni looked at the message for a few seconds longer. She still thought it was a sloppy way to be going about things. But… the boss had spoken. Reluctantly, she tapped in an addendum and flagged the item for Dira's attention. In her estimation, Negrikof wouldn't have been risking much if it did turn out to be a hoax. She already thought he was one of the biggest idiots in the Department anyway.
The officer commanding at the base watched from behind his desk as Kles was ushered into his office. "Lieutenant Bosoros, Sir," the unit commander announced, and remained standing inside while the orderly sergeant closed the door. The OC studied the note again and had the lieutenant repeat the story.
"And you got this information from where?" he said dubiously. "Somebody you know at NEBA? A journalist?"
"It was just passed on by him, Sir," Kles replied. "The information originated from somebody who is in Lambia, with the technical delegation at the Agracon in Melthis."
"Might I ask who this person is, Lieutenant?"
"Er… my fiancйe, sir… I think… I hope."
"Oh, I see. She's there in what capacity?"
"A technical translator with the delegation, sir."
"Her name?"
"Engs, sir. Laisha Engs."
"Hm." The OC made a note and stared some more at the sheet of paper. "You're telling me that this was communicated from inside the Lambian Agracon, to you in a military base here in Cerios?"
Kles bit his lip and drew a breath. There was no way around this. "Yes, sir."
"You're aware of the gravity of such an admission, I take it?"
"Yes, sir."
"This delegation is under whose direction? Which department do they report back to? Do you know?"
"I think it's NSRO, sir."
The OC thought for a few seconds longer, then snorted and reached for his phone. "If this turns out to be in error, Lieutenant, you're in deep trouble with a lot of explaining to do… Yes, get me General Oodan's office at Division immediately, on the secure line. There's something extremely urgent that I think they need to check with the Scientific Research Office. Extremely urgent." He replaced the handset, sat back, and looked at Kles. "If it's genuine, I won't ask how it was done."
"Sir," Kles acknowledged.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
They had been moved from the place where they were taken first to meet Freskel-Gar, which had seemed like some kind of war room or communications center, to plainer surroundings of painted walls, padded plastic seating, and office-style metal furniture. The seats were ill-suited to Eesyan and Showm, who alternated between perching on the edges uncomfortably and standing. Two armed guards were posted inside the door, with more outside. There seemed little question that they had walked in on the middle of something much bigger than just a ruse prepared for their benefit. Freskel-Gar had seemed in a hurry to dismiss them after Broghuilio had his chance to gloat, which showed an odd lack of curiosity toward a ship carrying live aliens, arriving from the future. The proceedings throughout had been interrupted by ceaseless calls and messengers coming and going. It was as if they were being put off while matters even more pressing were dealt with. To Hunt, it felt as if they had arrived in the middle of a revolution.
Danchekker, who was sitting in a swivel chair next to Hunt, turned his head a fraction. "I rather fear that if-"
"No talk!" one of the guards barked from the door. Danchekker lapsed back into silence. They had picked up enough Jevlenese during their stay there to know that it had a distant resemblance to Lambian, and were able to recognize a few words. The Lambians had relieved the captives of their headbands, ear pieces, and wrist screens, depriving them of communication with the Shapieron and of ZORAC as a translator. It also meant that conversation with the Ganymeans who were with them was no longer possible.
Danchekker's disposition was to remonstrate and make a fuss when there was a chance it could have some affect on things, but when that ceased to be the case he would lapse into a resigned silence to await what couldn't be altered. Hunt was the opposite-more like Caldwell. Sitting, doing nothing, and waiting simply wasn't in his nature. Whatever the odds might be against its making a scrap of difference, his compulsion was to do something.
The most immediate concern was the plane with Harzin and Perasmon aboard, at that moment on its way to Cerios. If Freskel-Gar's whole line had been phony, it was a safe bet that his assurance of the flight's having been diverted was a deception too. In fact, as Hunt thought about it, and taking into account his admittedly scrappy knowledge of the events that were due to unfold in the years ahead, it seemed pretty clear now who had been behind the downing of the flight. His feeling of having come in halfway through a revolution wasn't so farfetched at all. It was right on!
The irony of the situation was that it had been the assassination of the two leaders that had put Freskel-Gar in his position as successor to Perasmon, which a strong Lambian element had been opposed to. The hard line that Freskel-Gar had taken, encouraged by the general and close advisor Zargon-clearly Broghuilio as had been suspected-had led to the irreparable animosity that had set Cerios and Lambia on their course for war. Yet from the things learned in the Shapieron's reconnaissance visits, it needn't have happened, even at this late stage. The Cerians knew. Their military had gotten wind of the plot and sent a warning to the security people, but somebody there sat on it. The affair caused a scandal, heads rolled, and jobs were lost, but that all came too late to change the course of events.
Garuth and the others up on the ship might have figured it out as well, of course, but Hunt had no way of knowing that, or what they might have been able to do about it if they had. So that left Hunt and the rest of them here, down on the surface. But what could they do, locked up under armed guard and without communications?
The only possibility he could think of was to find some way of rocking Freskel-Gar's confidence before his position became unassailable, which might cause him to have second thoughts. Hunt did a mental tally of the resources at their disposal that might be brought to bear. They didn't amount to much. They had arrived in a starship that was far beyond present Minervan technology, but so had Broghuilio and his Jevlenese-in fact, five starships, no less. True, the Shapieron was capable of independent operation whereas the Jevlenese ships depended on facilities that didn't exist yet in this universe, but the point probably wouldn't impress itself upon Freskel-Gar in the space of the next few hours, which was what mattered. They were in the company of aliens of a kind that had vanished from Minerva in the distant past, and while that would be a source of boundless interest to scientists, academics, archeologists, and the like, it was unlikely to overwhelm somebody of Freskel-Gar's practical disposition. The kind of aliens more likely to capture his attention would be ones who talked of war and brought weapons, and he already had those in the form of Broghuilio and the Jevlenese.
The only thing left, then, was to resort to bluff. They knew, and Freskel-Gar would have no way of explaining how they knew, that the Cerian presidential plane was about to be shot down by a missile that it seemed pretty likely was Freskel-Gar's doing. If strangers appearing from another world knew about it, wouldn't it seem probable that many other interests on Minerva that could prove problematical were likely to find out too? Freskel-Gar came across as a sharp calculator. Maybe he could be induced to reconsider letting the assassination go ahead if it seemed more likely to lead to consequences that would undermine his situation rather than solidify it. At least it was a tangible aim. Whatever happened after that could follow as it came.