"We have spoken of our strategy many times over the past months. And we knew from the beginning that finding intelligence on who were the original perpetrators of the deportation of Earth's population was the key to the whole affair. Without that, we have only suspicions and educated guesses. It's just not enough to wage a war on. A war that could be over very quickly or be one of the most tumultuous events in history. We have never bothered to fool ourselves on the gravity of what lies before us.
"But we must have the proof, and we must have the goods on the right people. The correct villains. Only then can our cause be rightly determined as a just one. We do not as yet have that proof. We were right in assuming that this place would have a collection of mind rings. What we didn't consider was that those rings would be worthless. So the proof we need is still out of our grasp."
He looked the priest right in the eye.
"But Father, I think there is a way — just one more way— that we can try to find it."
Tomm was still shaking his head no. "My brother, any good field commander knows that prudent withdrawal is as smart as a brilliant attack. Our strategy was sound, true. But in its original form, we thought we would have dozens or hundreds, not to mention thousands of rings for our use. Even if you went back into the ring — which you are definitely not — what good would it do? What more could you learn? We already know the parameters of your trip. For all we know, the originator of this ring was actually killed by a foreman the day he was making it. And it was probably only by dumb luck that the clown prince Kyx never made it any further than the room behind the green door."
"But it is precisely what you said, Padre," Hunter told Tomm. "We have thousands of mind rings here; they just don't work. But if they are here now, then they were here then, back when the workable mind ring was programmed."
Hunter let those last few words just hang in the air for a moment.
As they slowly sank in, Tomm began sputtering.
"You are not… you can't actually be suggesting, that…"
Hunter nodded gravely. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting."
"But what you are proposing is both preposterous and dangerous," Tomm replied powerfully.
"No, actually, it's really simple," Hunter said. "I'll go back into the mind ring trip, make my way to the command cluster's main suite, and find the mind ring vault again. The thousands of mind rings should be there. If they are, and if as we now suspect they are the personal property of the deportees, they should be in working order. I can access their information that way. Think of the wealth of knowledge that they hold___"
Tomm put his hands to his ears, pretending that he was not hearing Hunter's words. "Brother, are you actually proposing that you go on a mind ring trip within a mind ring trip?"
Hunter nodded. "Yes, I am."
Tomm was almost beyond words. "Hawk, my brain is beginning to hurt just thinking of such a thing."
"Are you saying it's impossible?" Hunter asked.
"Impossible is a word not used much anymore," Tomm said. "But, in truth, I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing before. The danger, from many fronts, is simply overwhelming."
Hunter straightened up. "But just think: an entire library of thoughts and recollections of the original people of Earth. The original deportees. It would be an intelligence coup of major proportions for us. It will give us the history, the reasons—the villains—for the biggest crime of the ages."
Tomm took the ring from Hunter's hand and put it in his pocket. He'd had enough of this.
"Brother, that is a crime that someone else will have to solve," he said. "We have already started in motion a plan to retrieve all of our soldiers from the planet's surface. I suggest you make arrangements to be brought up to America as soon as possible. We have a long ride home ahead of us, and the sooner we get to it, the better."
With that, he gave Hunter a warm embrace and then walked out of the room.
5
Night finally fell on Xronis Trey.
Most of the BMK prisoners had taken their sleeping drops and had bunked down for the night. Even Kyx had finally scraped himself from the cell window and lay down on his air bubble at the opposite end of the room where his three junior officers were sleeping.
There were a few fires still smoldering around the BMK base, even now, nearly twenty-one hours after the surprise invasion. They were left to die natural deaths in the very thin night air.
About fifty UPF troopers were still standing guard around the loose perimeter surrounding the base. Many of their colleagues had already been recalled to the waiting UPF ships. Those who remained were equipped with little more than blaster rifles and long-range viz scopes, a very shoestring operation for this first and, quite possibly, last night of guard duty. Their only job was to search the skies endlessly looking for friend and foe alike. Being so far out of the way, way at the end of the Two Arm, they knew the chances of seeing either anytime soon were very low. Still, they remained vigilant.
A squad of UPF soldiers was in place around the command cluster as well but, as many of them had taken part in the initial assault earlier in the day, they had been given permission to go to sleep.
Inside the cluster, it was more of the same. About a hundred support soldiers had bunked down wherever they could find an open spot. The last part of the long voyage here had been a very hairy proposition, with half of the elderly corvettes nearly losing all power and propulsion— and life supports — several times in the closing hours. The excitement of the invasion and its aftermath had taken its toll, too, as had the thought that it might have been all in vain and that a long trip back to the Home Planets was awaiting them. All this gave way to exhaustion, and now all of them were asleep, too.
All except Hunter. He was wide awake.
He was lying on his air bubble, old-fashioned bandages now covering his right arm, his left shoulder, and the upper half of his face.
Unlike just about everyone else, he had not taken his sleeping drop — the tiny bubble of liquid that guaranteed up to an entire day of slumber, complete with only pleasant dreams, and an almost opiate-like feeling of refreshment upon awakening. Hunter disliked sleeping, induced or not. It was a little too close to death for him, and such a waste of time. And even though in the past his dreams had proven very helpful — and startlingly prophetic at times — they were not always pleasant. Another reason not to surrender to the underworld.
But he was awake now for a different reason. This was his new plan, formed by a conspiracy of one. He was sure his friends were convinced that they'd drilled some sense into him and ended his notion of taking the mind ring trip again.
In reality, though, nothing could have been further from the truth.
He lay on his bubble, counting the seconds away for two hours. That was his time frame for an all clear. He'd also spent the time reassuring himself that what he was about to do was the right thing for the cause. He knew it was, down deep, in a place that the others maybe could not see or feel. It was dangerous, no doubt about that. But he'd faced danger before; it was called risk assessment. Weigh the risk against the goal, and go from there.
This was, after all, his fight. His quest. His plan. His madness. There was no real reason any of the other principals should even be here. If it was up to someone to take a big gamble, that mantle lay only with him.
The two-hour mark finally came, and Hunter slowly rolled off the air bubble. It was now the equivalent of midnight on Xronis Trey. It was a very cool evening with only the bare light of the rising Zinc & Tin to cast anemic shadows across the stark landscape. He looked out his room's only window and saw two guards stationed about fifty feet from the front entrance to the command bubble, alert, weapons up, while their colleagues slept around them.