have any word. Perhaps we cannot speak, but we can still listen.”
“At once,” Stavros said, and hunkered in a corner of the room.
She turned back to Thomas. “We will capture the Prince. And once we do, we can force Heinlein base to free your brother.”
He hadn’t the slightest illusion that this gargoyle gave a damn about Douglas as a person, but it made good operational sense to pretend to. Bitch.
She turned and glanced at him, almost as if he had said that word aloud. Her face was neutral, but somehow he felt as if she was grinning inside. A death’s head grin. God, this woman frightened him
“Nothing from the external feeds?” Shotz asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I guess Douglas remained silent, after all.”
Thomas stiffened. “Of course he did, but I could not expect mercenaries to understand such a thing. We are patriots.”
Shotz smiled thinly. “Of course. She meant no harm.”
Thomas hoisted his air gun. “Let’s get them.”
Thomas opened the bubble door, exiting to the next chamber. After he left, Shotz turned. “Stavros,” he said. “What do you have for me?”
The Heinlein base motor pool was a flurry of activity as Piering’s volunteer brigade checked their weapons, experimented firing pitons and lasers against makeshift targets. Some tinkered with their suits, trying to get a bit more flexibility and mobility out of the polyplastic joints.
“We have the go-ahead,” he said. “Our people have cut into the communications lines, and right now these bastards are blind. Let’s hit them.”
“Yes, sir!” the brigade called. And if they didn’t snap to attention as might a more practiced unit, enthusiasm compensated for group experience.
They piled into the Scorpion transport, and the pressure seals battened down. The Scorpion hissed and then levitated on the track, and slid forward into an airlock, which sealed behind them.
“This is Scorpion two three three,” Piering said. “Awaiting permission for egress.”
“This is control. You are cleared for egress through to maintenance track two-two. Good luck.”
“Amen to that,” Piering said.
The airlock lights cycled between red, yellow and green. The outer door opened, and the Scorpion slid forward. Eight men and two women looked out at the lunar landscape as the Scorpion progressed. It swung around the track and headed toward the dome. Ground level. Level G.
Although he did not need to, Shotz stood near Stavros. He stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, lecturing an unseen audience.
“Attention, Prince Ali,” he said. “This message is being sent over all communications frequencies within the dome. Your father has requested that we convey the following message to you: ‘Death does not sound a trumpet.’”
“What does this mean?” Stavros asked.
“A Congolese saying,” Douglas replied. “And evidently a code phrase of some kind.”
Crouched in their bubble, Angelique suddenly raised her hand. “I’m getting something,” she said.
“Me, too,” Mickey said. “It’s coming over the gaming channels and the emergency com.”
“What is it?” Scotty said.
Angelique frowned. “It sounds like ‘Death does not sound a trumpet.’”
Scotty was baffled, but Prince Ali reacted violently, and at once. “My father!”
“What?”
He cradled his head in his hands. “It means that he has left Kikaya. I am to do whatever I must to survive, and need not resist to save the crown.”
He sobbed. “He did it for me. My father lost the crown… for me.”
Scotty rubbed the Prince’s shoulder. What in the world do you say to something like that?
“What happens to Kikaya now?”
“I don’t know. It depends on who was responsible for the coup. There is a man named Motabu, a general quite popular with the people. My father would have removed him, or jailed him, but for that popularity. He might have the support to do such a thing.”
“And what do you do now?”
“I surrender,” Ali said. “There is no need for the rest of you to place your lives at risk protecting me any longer.”
“You think we were doing it for you?” Wayne said. “Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn. The world doesn’t revolve around your throne. We’re running because we don’t trust those murderous bastards.”
“If they are hunting or fighting you, they will be more tense, more likely to overreact.”
“They can sue me,” Scotty said.
“I’m turning myself in.”
“I don’t work for you.”
“My father abdicated!”
“He didn’t cancel my contract, or was that part of the code words, too?”
Ali tried to puff himself out to be more threatening. “Yes, it was.”
“Hands here?” Scotty asked. “Hands? Anyone believe that?”
“Please, help me,” Ali said. “I want to turn myself in.”
“They won’t hurt you,” Angelique said, gently now.
“But they might hurt you. And I couldn’t stand that.” His eyes widened. “I know. If we survive this, I will still be rich. Anyone who helps me turn myself in, I will give a hundred thousand New dollars.”
Sharmela blinked. “Let me understand this. You want to bribe us to help you sacrifice yourself to save us. That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Prince Ali groaned, and sat, heavily. “You are all insane,” he said.
Wayne ruffled Ali’s tightly curled hair. “Yeah. Ain’t it cool?”
“Any answer?” Shotz asked.
“Nothing, but…” Stavros frowned. “I’m getting a signal from the motor pool,” he said, touching a finger to his ear. “A vehicle has been released from the northern bay.”
Shotz froze, then turned his head almost as if it balanced on a pivot. “Is it heading toward us?”
“I can’t see it, or track it.” Stavros looked up. “I should see something, dammit. Either the monitor is malfunctioning, or…” His voice trailed off, brow furrowing.
Something was wrong. None of the Beehive’s monitors indicated a problem, but Celeste was taking nothing for granted. She snatched the monitor from Stavros’ hand. If he’d seen a Scorpion leave the northern bay, and then turn east or west, she might have relaxed. But instead she saw nothing on the monitor.
“Yes. The other hand is always possible. Alert alpha and bravo teams. And inform me if the situation changes.”
The Scorpion had reached the Beehive’s eastern edge, the dome’s G level. The ten men and women fastened their own pressure suits, then checked each other’s gear soberly. When the twelve-point survey was complete, each gave a “thumb’s-up.”
“We can’t do this blind,” Piering said into his microphone. “We need those deep-scans. Where are the hostiles?”
Kendra’s voice was a welcome sound. “Infrared shows them on E and F. Our people are on G.”
“Couldn’t be better. Is there any way to communicate with them?”
“Not at the moment. But they’ve been told to hunker down.”
“Then I think it’s time.” Piering clicked the com line off, and turned to his nine volunteers. “Let’s move. Group A?”
