On Basilisk Station

out there by the air lorry load, as well as teaching them how to make guns. A major incident certainly isn't out of the question. If it comes at one of the Delta city-states, they should be able to at least hold their walls until we can get help to them. If it comes at the off-world enclaves, though—' Isvarian shrugged tiredly. 'Most of 'em are wide open, Major Papadapolous, and they don't even know it. Their security people haven't even brushed back the moss on the approaches to establish security or kill zones, and—' he smiled again, an achingly weary but genuine smile '—ain't none of 'em Grunts like us.'

'I understand, Major.' Papadapolous smiled back, then looked at Honor. 'Ma'am, I'm sorry I seemed overconfident. With your permission, I'd like to take Major Isvarian down to Marine Country and get my platoon commanders and Sergeant Major Jenkins involved in this. Then I'll try to give you a response plan that has some thought behind it for a change.'

'I think that sounds like a reasonable idea, Major,' Honor said mildly, then glanced at Isvarian. 'On the other hand, it might be an even better idea to get some food into Major Isvarian and lock him in a cabin for a few hours' sleep before you confer.'

'Now that's a real good idea, Captain.' Isvarian's voice was slurred, and he listed noticeably as he heaved himself to his feet. 'But if Major Papadapolous doesn't mind, I think I'd like a shower first.'

'Can do, Major,' Papadapolous said promptly, and Honor smiled as she watched him escort a staggering Isvarian from her briefing room.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ensign Tremaine's pinnace drifted in orbit, two hundred meters from the mammoth power collector, while Tremaine, Harkness, and Yammata crossed the vacuum between them. None of them could quite believe where their trace of the power relays had led them.

'You sure you want to do this, Skipper?' Harkness muttered over his suit com. 'I mean, this is NPA business, Sir.'

'The Captain told me to run it down, PO,' Tremaine said, much more harshly than usual. 'Besides, if we're right, maybe an NPA maintenance crew are the last people we should have checking it out.'

'Mr. Tremaine, you don't really think—' Yammata began, and the ensign waved a gauntleted hand.

'I don't know what to think. All I know is what we've found so far. Until I do know more—know it for certain—we tell no one. Clear?'

'Yes, Sir,' Yammata murmured. Tremaine nodded in satisfaction and freed a powered wrench from his equipment belt. His suit thrusters nudged him a bit closer, and he caught the grab bar above the access panel. He pulled himself down, locking the toes of his boots under the clips provided for that purpose, and attached his suit tether to the bar, then fitted the wrench head over the first bolt.

He squeezed the wrench power stud and listened to its whine, transmitted up his arm to his ears, and tried not to look at the royal Manticoran seal above the panel.

'You're not serious?' Dame Estelle stared at Lieutenant Stromboli's face in her com screen, and the beefy lieutenant nodded. 'Our backup power collector?'

'Yes, Ma'am, Dame Estelle. No question about it. Ensign Tremaine and his crew tracked the fix from the primary receiver station and found the feed. It wasn't easy, even after he got to the collector. As a matter of fact, it's built right into the main power ring, not even an add-on. I've got a copy of the altered schematics in my secure data base right now.'

'Oh, my God,' Matsuko sighed. She settled back in her chair, staring at the com screen, and her brain raced. Was it possible this whole operation was being run by someone inside her own staff? The thought was enough to turn her stomach, but she made herself face it.

'Who have you told, Lieutenant?' she asked after a moment, her eyes narrowing.

'You, Ma'am,' Stromboli said instantly, and went on to answer the unasked portion of her question. 'Mr. Tremaine informed me by tight beam, so my duty com tech knows, I know, his boat crew knows, and you know. That's it.'

'Good. Very good, Lieutenant.' Dame Estelle tugged at an earlobe, then nodded. 'Use your own equipment to inform Commander Harrington, please. And ask her to tell Major Isvarian—he's still aboard Fearless, I believe. Don't tell anyone else without clearance from me or from your captain.'

'Yes, Ma'am. I understand.' Stromboli nodded, and the commissioner cut the circuit with a courteous if abstracted nod.

She sat silently for long minutes, trying to grasp the implications. It was insane ... but it was also the perfect cover. She remembered the holos Isvarian had made of the base before the explosion, seeing once more the meticulous care with which the buildings had been hidden. It was all part of a pattern, a pattern of almost obsessive concealment, yet there was a false note. Concealment, yes, but once that screen of security was breached, the very lengths to which they'd gone to maintain it were guaranteed to touch off a massive hunt for the perpetrators at all levels.

And the way it had been done, the tap off her own power system, the apparent scale of mekoha production, the introduction of breech-loading rifles to the natives... . All of it spoke of a massive operation, one which went—which must go—far beyond whatever might be earned by selling drugs to a Bronze Age culture!

But why? Where did it go ... and to what end? She was alone in a dark room, groping for shadows, and none of it made any sense. Not any sense at all.

She rose from her chair and walked to her office's huge window, staring unseeingly out over the Government Compound's low wall at the monotonous Medusan countryside. It couldn't be one of her people. It couldn't! Whatever the ultimate objective, whatever the reward, she couldn't—wouldn't—believe that any of her people could feed mekoha to the natives and connive at the cold-blooded murder of their own fellows!

But someone had installed a power tap in the one place neither she nor any of Harrington's people had even considered looking. And if it was built in, not added as an afterthought ...

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the tough, plastic window, and gritted her teeth in pain.

'It's confirmed, Commander.'

Rafe Cardones nodded at the data terminal, and McKeon leaned closer to study it. The schematic of the power collector was interesting enough, but that was only part of the data's surprises. The shunt to the drug lab's power system was, indeed, an integral part of the satellite's circuitry, built deep into its core where only a complete maintenance strip-down would have revealed it. More than that, every maintenance seal had been intact, with no sign of tampering, and even with access to government or Fleet equipment, breaking and replacing all those seals would have been a lengthy, time-consuming job. However it got there, the installation of that shunt hadn't been any spur of the moment, rushed bootleg job.

He frowned and punched a key, and the collector's installation and maintenance history scrolled smoothly up the screen before him. He watched the moving lines, tapping gently on his teeth with the end of a stylus as he searched for any suspiciously long blocks of service time, any single name that came up too often among the regular maintenance crews on the normal service visits, but there were none. Either a big enough chunk of NPA maintenance personnel were in on it to rotate their ringers through the regular maintenance schedule and get the job done, or else... .

He nodded and tapped another key, killing the scroll command, and looked at Cardones.

'Download all this data to a secure chip, Rafe, and get it to the Captain. And ... don't discuss it with