"because if you haven't spotted it when you're sitting right on top of it, then the Leaguers certainly won't notice out in space." She directed their attention to the ship again with a flick of her head. "Look at the KA'PPA tower, gentlemen," she said, "right under the globe. What do you see there?"
Again, Brim peered out at E607. He followed the KA'PPA tower to the transmitting globe, squinted, then snapped his fingers. "Universe!" he exclaimed. "I missed that completely. You've got two beta feeds on the A input, don't you?"
Dark laughed. "Right you are, Brim," she said. "And only one of them is real."
"Voof!" exclaimed Ursis. "A beautiful job, Colonel Dark."
"Good as Sodeskayan engineering, Lieutenant?" Dark asked with a grin.
"Well," the Bear said with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye, "perhaps not that good—but good enough to fool this Bear!"
"Ha, ha! Excellent answer, Ursis," Dark said. "Now let me tell you what the left beta feed really is, because you are definitely not looking at two of the same device." She smiled almost proudly. "It's what the boffins call a BURST attachment—operates with your regular COMM gear. I don't have any idea how it works, but it does—sends a whole bloody message in less than a billionth of a tick. On anybody else's COMM gear, it's automatically filtered out—with all the other static spikes in space. This one can recognize a BURST message and translate it."
"How easy is it to use, Colonel?" Ursis asked.
"Like slipping on a ca'omba peel," Dark quipped. "We've got yours wired in—you'll find a couple of extra goodies on your COMM cabinet. No voice or video. Works just like a KA'PPA, in that sense—symbolic output only."
The Bear nodded. "It sounds fine to me, Colonel" he said.
"Unfortunately," Dark continued, "we haven't had much luck with another important portion of that COMM cabinet—your authentication key."
Brim mentally winced. That was not good at all. Every military starship in the Universe carried some kind of device to return a properly coded "authenticator" signal when "challenged" by similar equipment aboard another vessel. The coded authentications were changed on a random—but regular—basis, and if E607 didn't have an up-to-date authenticator then the fact that the little scout was an authentic Leaguer ship would have little effect at all.
Dark grimaced from her recliner. "Oh, we've got one for to use," she said. "But it's just about expired: We simply don't think it will hold out all the way through your mission—especially if you must use the last of your three time windows." She laughed humorlessly. "The League has selfishly failed to send us the next one in the series for E607, so you'll be op your own if you're in enemy territory when the one you have wears out." After a few more words, she wished each of them good fortune, pressed their bands one by one, then sent them on their way.
Within the metacycle, Red Rock 9 again vanished in the aft hyperscreens, and E607 was running Hyperspace, on course for a destination deep within the next League. A final message came from Dark about three-quarters through the next watch. It arrived as their first BURST interception: "'Closing this base immediately,'" Barbousse read from the COMM cabinet. "'After pickup, fly course 794 by 819 on 6153E. Imperial warship wilclass="underline" (1) intercept your course, (2) assume care and feeding of spy, (3) complete your orders. Good fortune to all.'"
Through it, Amherst sat in his command recliner in stony silence, his eyes unfocused, as if he had abandoned reality for some safer, more acceptable existence within. To Brim, the man seemed to be deep in some sort of shock. He shook his head uneasily. A critical juncture was imminent—and he sensed he would be deeply involved when it came.
In the metacycles that followed, the First Lieutenant began to find his tongue again, but by now, he had undergone a profound change. Vanished was the arrogant Puvis Amherst Brim had known. He was replaced by the withdrawn, sweat-soaked stranger who had first shown himself on the League starship Ruggetos just before its recapture by Prefect Valentin.
At first, Brim attempted to ignore the behavior—as did the others—with inconsequential small talk.
But constant interruptions as to "How much farther?" and, "Are you sure the authenticator is in place?"
finally broke through their common restraint.
"What's the matter with him, Wilf?" Theada whispered from the side of his mouth. "He's acting crazy."
Brim shook his head and frowned. "I don't know," he admitted as the ship veered suddenly toward a space hole off to port. He carefully eased the helm back on course. "Maybe Nothing," he ventured.
"Nothing?" Theada protested. "Don't try to hand me that, Wilf Brim. Universe, it doesn't take a bloody genius to..."
"What is this talk about?" Amherst demanded anxiously. "What's the matter?"
"Change over on the power supply, Lieutenant," Brim lied over his shoulder in a soothing voice.
"Perfectly routine."
"Very well," Amherst said uneasily.
Brim turned to watch the man more closely. So did Ursis.
"Perhaps the mission risks too much," Amherst said, silhouetted against the steady glare of the flowing Drive plume aft. "A crew of eleven and a valuable starship for one spy is not a good bargain in my estimate." He turned in his seat. "Is this not so, Barbousse?"
The big Torpedoman jumped as if he were bitten. "I, ah—" he started.
"Not so much of a risk as all that, Lieutenant," Brim interposed. "A simple pickup is all. We've been in much more danger in Truculent, you know."
"That is not the point, you...Carescrian," Amherst snapped, biting his lip.
"Then what is the point, Lieutenant?" Brim asked gently. "It's...it's..." Suddenly, Amherst's eyes narrowed. His face contorted in a paroxysm of hate. "Oh, no!" he hissed. "You'll not do that to me. You and the rest of the low-life scum—Bears and ratings. And that brazen whore Dark. Trash! That's what you are. Trash!" He jerked himself around in the recliner and pointed toward the right-hand Helmsman's seat. "And you'd better watch yourself, Theada—they'll drag you down with them!"
In the shocked silence that followed, Ursis checked his readouts, then rose to his feet and moved slowly to Amherst's side, where he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Lieutenant Amherst?" he asked in a gentle growl.
"Take your filthy paw from my uniform—animal!" Amherst grunted, his eyes suddenly clearing. "How dare you touch my person? Remember that I am still your commander!"
Ursis removed his hand, looked at it a moment, then nodded to himself. "You are still in command, Lieutenant Amherst?" he asked gravely.
"Of course I am still in command," Amherst said as he got to his feet and strode toward the sleeping cabins as if nothing unusual had occurred. "What could have made you ask that question?"
"We may yet discuss such a subject, Lieutenant," Ursis growled after him, then returned to his console and the power systems. Save for the steady rumble of their Drive, the remainder of the watch passed in near silence.
A few metacycles prior to the first time window, Brim eased the little ship out of Hyperspace and proceeded toward Typro on generators alone. Now deep within League territory, he openly followed a main spaceway as if the STS were part of a normal, everyday mission. The authentication key on the COMM console chimed now and again as passing ships challenged their identity, and the mission appeared to be running a normal course, as planned. During the last metacycle, however, something had begun to gnaw at his peace of mind, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Something about their approach was ever so slightly out of kilter, and it worried him. Any rock hauler knew it was the little details that do you in, and he scoured his mind for them—to no avail.