The Black Fleet Crisis_ Tyrant's Test Part 31

"We preloaded the shuttle with the entire spare excavation kit, from domes to bits," Eckels informed Tragett as the shuttle turned south instead of skyward.

"You can draw whatever replacements you need from there. I'd say you should have no trouble getting set up by nightfall--be ready to go again first thing in the morning."

Tragett, a veteran and a pragmatist, understood the issues driving the decision. "Affirmative, Penga Rift. But if that's the plan, I'd like to rotate Tuomis out, bring someone else down. He's been fighting shelter fever, and he's a little shaken right now."

"Site setup is half outside' work," Eckels said.

"Might turn him around, just being able to see that horizon. And hard work is a lot better for the disposi tion than lying there all night listening to the wind howl.

Let's wait twenty and review the options when we see how he is in the morning."

With the Team Alpha crisis past, Penga Rift returned to its normal orbital pattern, and Eckels contacted the other teams in turn for their daily updates.

Team Beta was conducting a deep-water survey from a camp on a ma.s.sive slab iceberg; Team Gamma was working the ridges above Stopa-Krenn Glacier in search of post-catastrophe Qella habitations and nomadic artifacts.

"You have one more day to wrap things up there," Eckels informed the Beta team leader. "Then I'm moving you to S-Eleven. With Alpha being driven out of N-Three, we still haven't gotten into a city site--which is why I'm making that our top priority for the time remaining."

"Understood, Dr. Eckels. No objection here--we're clearly into diminis.h.i.+ng returns."

Eckels's news for Gamma, delivered half an orbit later, had a similar flavor. "You have a hundred hours to find a no-fooling, hip-deep-in-midden habitation before I pull you off and split you up so we can go double-s.h.i.+fts at S-Nine and S-Eleven. We have all the skin flakes, callus sc.r.a.pings, scat sheddings, and ice-burned limbs the Inst.i.tute can use.

We're not leaving here without at least a peek at how they lived--before if not after, and both if at all possible."

"Acknowledged," said the Gamma leader. "Let me talk to Tia about yesterday's side scans. There's a spot I want her to get a second look at."

"Transferring you now."

Eckels studied the schedule on his datapad's display a moment longer, then stored it. He knew that he was pus.h.i.+ng the team hard, both those on the surface and the a.n.a.lysts and catalogers in the lab. But he saw no real alternative. They had custody of Penga Rift for twenty-nine more days--after which Dr. Bromial's Kogan expedition, already postponed two months, would take over. That broke down to thirteen produc tive days at Maltha Obex and sixteen wasted days in transit back to Coruscant.

All that time just to drag our hands and brains from one side of the galaxy to another--the universe is an offense to any reasonable concept of order.

Eckels found himself envying his client for having a s.h.i.+p like Meridian at his disposal. The black-hulled sprint that had made the pickup had completed a round trip to Coruscant in less than the time it would take the elderly research vessel to complete one leg. But the Obroan Inst.i.tute would never invest its precious resources in something as ephemeral as speed.

"Archaeology is not a race," Director bel-dar-Nolek would say. "It is a profession for the patient. We, who think in centuries and millennia, can hardly notice a handful of days."

But bel-dar-Nolek no longer did fieldwork. The longest trip he regularly made was a twenty-minute walk from his home to his office at the Inst.i.tute.

Leaving the comm booth, Eckels started aft toward the labs. But before he reached them, he found himself paged over the s.h.i.+pcomm.

"Captain Barjas, to the bridge, please. Dr. Eckels, to the bridge, please."

Eckels recognized the voice of the first officer, who had been with the s.h.i.+p for nine years and uncounted expeditions. Eckels also recognized the note of urgency that made Manazar's words more than a Polite request.

Turning, Eckels reversed his steps, adding a jot of haste to them until he pa.s.sed into the crew section and climbed the triangular ladder to the bridge.

Barjas had arrived before him. "Doctor," he said with an acknowledging nod.

"What is it?"

Barjas pointed at the navigation display, Manazar out the forward viewport.

"Incoming s.h.i.+p," Barjas said.

Manazar added, "And they don't seem too happy that we're here."

Wary of being followed, Pakkpekatt had guided Lady Luck through a series of three hypers.p.a.ce jumps en route to Maltha Obex. The extra jumps added less than an hour to their travel time, but vastly increased the difficulty for anyone attempting to divine their destination.

Having taken those extra precautions to ensure that they would be undisturbed, Pakkpekatt was all the more concerned to discover that though the planet was dead, it was not deserted.

"Vessel answers as Penga Rift, registry Coruscant, owners.h.i.+p Obroan Inst.i.tute for Archaeology, captain Dolk Barjas. Supplementary: Length one- twenty-six, beam thirty-two, no registered armament, rated speed--"

"Agent Taisden, can you suppress that vessel's comm ability?"

"Local," Taisden said. "Not hyperComm."

"Do nothing, then," said Pakkpekatt.

"Colonel, you weren't thinking about taking that s.h.i.+p out, were you?"

Hammax asked, his face showing concern. "That's not only a civilian boat, but a friendly--and from the size of her, probably berthing upward of thirty."

"My concern is that we have sufficient privacy to do our work here," said Pakkpekatt, slowing Lady Luck to give them more time before being detected.

will entertain all options."

"This entire expedition has been black ops from the start," said Pleck.

"Why not just drop the curtain over the whole system, commandeer the s.h.i.+p under NRI authority, and lock in a comm blackout?"

"I do not think we have as much authority here as you would like to presume--either in fact or in appearance," Pakkpekatt said. "If you were her captain, would you surrender your command to the crew of a private yacht that showed up without its registered owner?

Only the greenest captain would fail to suspect piracy in such circ.u.mstances."

"Okay, so when we blip in on their sensors, they're not going to be intimidated," said Hammax. "But surely we could get General Rieekan or Brigadier Collomus to have them ordered out of the system. We could even wait out here, out of range, until they've been spanked and sent home."

Taisden was shaking his head. "Listen, I did a turn in the Senate liaison office. The colonel's right. Without a native population here, Maltha Obex is an open system, and Article Nineteen of the Charter applies. The Obroan Inst.i.tute has as much right to be here as we do.

The NRI doesn't have the authority to claim territory for itself--not even the Fleet has that power. They have to go to the Senate Defense Council for a presumptive finding of a security interest to support the claim, give public notice to the member nations--" "So how do we get them to leave without telling them who we are and why we're here?"

Hammax demanded.

"That's another question, isn't it?" asked Pleck.

"What are they doing here?"

"They are here because we sent them here," said P akkpekatt.

That drew puzzled looks. "We did?" Hammax asked.

"Effectively. Before the vagabond escaped our control at Gmar Asklion, I asked General Rieekan for Qella genetic material, and for reasons of expediency the agency enlisted the Obroan Inst.i.tute to locate and retrieve it. But we now have what they came here to retrieve for us--they should be gone."

"Well, then, it's simple," said Hammax. "If we sent them here, we can order them to leave. We just have to tell them that we're here to take over the operation and their services are no longer required."

"I don't think so," Taisden said. "From the comm traffic, it sounds like they have at least three operations under way on the surface.

They're not going to believe that this s.h.i.+p, and the four of us, are here to take over."

"Doesn't matter what they believe," said Hammax.

"If we hired 'em, we can fire 'em. And maybe this yacht isn't very intimidating, but everyone here knows that the colonel can be. That could turn out to be all the authority we need."

"And if they don't go for it?" Taisden asked.

"They're civilians, Colonel---even worse, scientists.

They don't herd well."

"Then there's one other option. Colonel, that's basically a Dobrutz liner," said Hammax. "I know something about the type, because I've spent some time in one. The Alliance had a fistful of them, pressed into service as small troop transports during the Rebellion."

"Go on," said Pakkpekatt.

"See, that s.h.i.+p down there has a single comm array, mounted outside the nav s.h.i.+elds because of the interference from those miserable DZ-nine s.h.i.+eld generators," said Hammax. "It was a known vulnerability.

I'm sure I could take it out without collateral damage. Shouldn't require more than two shots. Might get it in one."

"Thank you, Colonel," said Pakkpekatt, advancing the throttles.

"However, I believe I will hold that option in deep reserve. There is something here that still eludes me. Perhaps I can encourage these interlopers to reveal The inbound vessel had remained silent until it was nearly on top of Penga Rift. Then the first signal had come over the emergency comm channel, lighting up several warning bars on the panels at Manazar's elbow.

"Penga Rift, this is a priority alert.. You are operating in a restricted area, and your vessel is at risk.

Please verify your transponder identification profile."

Startled out of inattentiveness, Manazar nearly sent the confirming data without questioning the request.

Only at the last moment did he recover his poise and respond, "Unknown vessel, this is Penga Rift. Please identify yourself--this s.h.i.+p is not equipped with an interrogator module."

"I say again, Penga Rift, this is a priority alert. You are operating in a restricted area, and your vessel is at risk. Please verify your transponder identification profile."

As though to underline the seriousness of the request, a concealed weapons bay had opened on the underside of the new arrival's hull. The retractable laser cannon that emerged cycled through its full range of motion, then locked on Penga Rift.

That was the point at which Manazar called for the captain and the expedition leader. Then he quickly checked to see if the transponder had already been interrogated, and sent the requested information when he saw that it had.

"I thought since they already have the information and we have nothing to hide, there was no harm in complying," Manazar explained. "But the very next thing, they wanted to talk to the master of the vessel, with full holocomm. I've been putting them off until you got here, but I don't think they like being put off."

Barjas nodded. "You did fine, Mazz. I'll take it from here."

"No," said Eckels. "On the starlanes, this s.h.i.+p is yours, Captain, but here in orbit, the expedition leader is in command. I will deal with this."

He crossed the bridge to Penga Rift's small holocomm booth and settled himself inside it. "Monitor to station one. Record to personal log Eckels. Begin transmission." After a moment's pause, he said, "This is Dr. Joto Eckels of the Obroan Inst.i.tute, expedition leader. Whom am I addressing?"

When the answering holo formed before him, Eck-els felt his body trying to retreat deeper into the seat.

The face was not only intensely alien, but both inhumanly large and close enough to violate Eckels's psychological boundaries. It could have been no more than that the other was leaning forward toward his holo lens, but it made Eckels feel cornered in the booth.

"I am Colonel Ejagga Pakkpekatt of New Republic Intelligence, said the other, showing teeth that were distinctively those of a carnivore.

"My mission in this sector is under the direct authority of the director of operations, and with the knowledge and consent of the Senate Intelligence Council. What is your business here?"

"We are conducting a contract survey and excavation of Maltha Obex."

"And what is the purpose of your survey and excavation?"

"This is an archaeological research vessel," said Eckels, recovering some measure of his equilibrium.

"Not surprisingly, we're here to do the things archaeologists do--to retrieve biological samples and cultural artifacts related to the former inhabitants of this planet."

"Who contracted for this expedition?"

Eckels considered refusing to answer. There were nondisclosure clauses in the standard Inst.i.tute contracts that offered not only a suitable pretext, but also a reasonable defense of his actions after the fact.

But being difficult would not help move the conversation forward to what the visitors really wanted--though Eckels was already sure in his own mind what that was. He had had but one thought since the s.h.i.+p had arrived, only one explanation for this coincidence--this confrontation.

"Harkin Dyson, a private collector," said Eckels.

"But come, you know all that already. Tell me, what did Dyson do? I should not have trusted him. Men with that much wealth do what they want and let the law try to catch up. Please tell me he didn't try selling the remains piecemeal."

Pakkpekatt did not seem interested in Eckels's confessions.

"Was this contract the only basis for your interest in Maltha Obex?"

"No," said Eckels. The alien's unblinking gaze was becoming an annoyance. "We lost some people here, folks who were working another contract. But I would guess you know all about that, too. The rumor going around the Inst.i.tute was that it was an NRI job."

"Dr. Eckels, I have not asked of you that you tell me only things I did not know already," said Pakkpekatt, somehow managing to loom even closer.

"Have you encountered any other vessels since your arrival here?"

"Just the other NRI s.h.i.+p--" The holo display suddenly dissolved in a burst of snowy static. "What happened?"

"I broke the link," said Manazar. "Doctor, this Pakkpekatt--I just identified his species. He's a Hortek."

"And?"

"They're supposed to be telepathic. That's why he demanded the holo link. He's probably already found out everything he wanted from you."

"Well, I am not telepathic, and I have not found out everything I want," Eckels said frostily. "Restore the link."

"There you are, Doctor," said Pakkpekatt a moment later. "Your reply was garbled by the equipment malfunction."