“I’ll get your medicine,” said Lurilile to Cringh. “We’ll start out at once.” She went into his room, burrowed among his things, filling her pockets, murmuring to herself, “A key for the last lock. A key for the last lock.”
As they were about to go out into the wide passageway which connected the urban residential suites used by upper-level Authoritarians, heads of advisories, heads of panels, and a few of the Actual Members, they heard a monstrous rumbling from one end of it, an approaching roar.
“Back inside,” hissed Lurilile, pulling at Notadamdirabong Cringh’s robe. “Back.”
As the door slid closed before them, they caught a glimpse of a treaded and armed monster entering the passageway at the far end and a bolt of lightning seared their vision, melting droplets from the door.
“God,” breathed Rasiel Plum.
“Devil,” spat Cringh. “Who in hell has set those loose?”
“Thyker?” suggested Rasiel.
“No,” Cringh said angrily. “I would have known. They wouldn’t have done that without telling me. And there’s no reason to. Authority hasn’t even suggested retaliation against Thyker for the raid on Hobbs Land.”
“There’s only one other group it could be,” said Lurilile. “The ones who left Voorstod.”
“God,” breathed Rasiel Plum once more.
“There’s the supply chutes,” suggested Lurilile, feeling an approaching rumble. The two old men followed her through the services door into the central services area. A hatchway gave access to a system of ducts, complete with ladders.
“In,” she said. “In and down.”
Gravity was light. Rasiel began the climb, Cringh close behind him, Lurilile remaining behind long enough to pull the hatch tightly closed. The ducts had their own lighting system, their own scurrying little telltales, running up and down tracks let into one wall of the ducts. Twice they scrunched tight to the opposite wall as a supply pod raced past on the tracks.
“If we knew where those supplies were going, we could piggy back,” panted Cringh.
“You’d be whipped off at the first corner,” Lurilile commented. “We’re down two levels. You two stay put. I’m going to reconnoiter.” She thrust open a hatch and slithered out, like a lizard.
“Where’d you get her?” Rasiel asked.
“I think she’s a spy, assigned to me,” Cringh murmured. “Undoubtedly from Ahabar. I’ve enjoyed giving her all kinds of misinformation mixed up with truths that took me a lifetime to learn. She’s been so kind. I didn’t want her to get the information and leave me.”
“A spy? Why you?”
“As a member of the Religion Advisory, I suppose I was spyable,” he replied. “Ahabar was pretty annoyed with the Advisory. Can’t say I blamed them.”
Lurilile came squirming back. “This level is empty. There’s a tube car vestibule down the main hall. I suggest we get to it.”
“Why is this level empty,” whispered Cringh.
“Because it’s a storage level,” she replied. “There wouldn’t be anyone here in the middle of the night, would there?”
The moon Authority was small enough and enclosed enough that it found it expedient to celebrate nighttime simultaneously throughout. What was “night” for Notadamdirabong Cringh was night for everyone else, as well.
They crept quietly along the wide corridor, past bays heaped with supplies and equipment, past immobile handling machines, past brightly painted ducts bearing enigmatic labels: Wet cargo, Waste direct, Waste indirect.
The vestibule was pale green, as all transport facilities were, making them easy to locate. Inside, they found a six-man pod, ready in the tube.
“Supply area directory,” whispered Lurilile.
The listing swam onto the stage. Arrival Stage. Main Sorting Units. Noxious Waste. Temporary Work Crews. Permanent Supply …
“Location of Doors in supply area,” she whispered.
The listing shortened itself abruptly. Arrival Stage. Noxious Waste. Temporary Work Crews.
“Two-way Doors only,” she said again. Arrival stage was for incoming supplies. Noxious waste led to the center of Big Sun, and nowhere else.
There was only one remaining location. Temporary work crews.
“Temporary work crews,” Lurilile tapped into the destination pad. The top of the pod sealed around them with a hiss.
“Implement,” Lurilile tapped.
“Remarkable how efficient she is for an office–home aide, isn’t it?” said Rasiel. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she might be an Ahabarian secret service operative.” “Pretend she is,” said Lurilile. “It will make you feel better about doing what she tells you to do.”
The hissing drone of the transport tube, combined with the featureless walls—which blurred by like blown fabric, shimmering—were hypnotic. Rasiel shut his eyes. “I have a family here, you know. On the other side. In the lake environment.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll stop the soldiers before extensive damage is done,” said Lurilile.
“The Ahabarian secret service does not want Authority dismembered then?”
“The Ahabarian secret service doesn’t really care what happens to Authority,” she answered. “But neither does it have any desire to see senseless destruction and mayhem among the relatively innocent.”
“Relatively innocent?” asked Rasiel.
“Almost everyone on Authority knew about the bribes being taken by Theology Panel. No one did anything about it.”
“Relatively innocent,” agreed Cringh.
“Everyone was content with not rocking the boat,” said Lurilile. “Which seems to be Authority’s style. Who cares if it goes on existing or not? It doesn’t do anything useful. You’re all mere artifacts. You should be in a museum!”
The hiss dropped to a lower register, becoming a hum. The pod slowed. They slipped into a vestibule and the lid opened automatically. Lurilile’s fingers were poised over the destination pad, ready to send them elsewhere if needed, but the vestibule was empty, soundless.
“Out,” she whispered.
They crept into the chill, boxlike space, into the lock, out of the lock into the area used by temporary work crews. A dining area. Dormitories. A recreation area. And at last, a Door.
“I want you two gone,” said Lurilile. “I want you two down on a planet somewhere, alerting everyone. I want a dozen agents up here
