Exile to Hell

“True enough. I was following orders, as you should have done.” Salvo lifted a hand as if to wave away an objection that wasn’t forthcoming. “Don’t worry. I’m not contemplating disciplinary action against you.”

“May I ask why?”

“Tonight’s circumstances were unique, but I chose you, Grant, Pollard, MacMurphy and young Carthew because all of you have special qualities. You think fast, you move fast and, though there’s a downside to it, you also can be independent. And all of you can be trusted to keep secrets.”

Kane smiled wryly. “What kind of secrets?”

“That’s still classified, but if the information will ease your mind, I’ll tell you this muchtonight’s penetration was part of an ongoing covert op, so covert it won’t even show up on the reports. Only the baron and his immediate staff will know about it.”

Kane’s mind wheeled and extrapolated. It was possible Baron Cobalt had authorized a black penetration, and it was also possible that Milton Reeth had been part of some type of sting, a link to the warlord rumors. All of it was possible, Kane conceded, but damn little of it was very likely, for a variety of reasons. The chain of command protocols was always observed and respected in the division. By invoking the baron, Salvo didn’t have to justify why he broke the chain, and that seemed very convenient.

“I still find these rumors a little hard to swallow,” Kane said noncommittally. “I mean, how many times over the years have we heard similar ones? The outlanders are too divided, too concerned with survival, to ever make a concerted effort to overthrow the villes.”

“Think of it this way, Kane,” Salvo declared. “A long time ago, fearful of atomic war, the major governments played a stupe game called the ‘balance of terror.’ It should have been obvious, even to the most idiotic of them, that it was a matter of playing the odds, that sooner or later the balance would be tipped in the wrong direction. It finally happened, and we had a planet that came very close to being destroyed. What we have now is a complete aboutface from the predark lunacy. There can never be another balance of terror, with two or more factions holding blasters to each other’s head, while everybody else sits on their thumbs, wondering who’ll be the first to pull the trigger. We’ve got to make goddamn sure only one faction has a blaster. We can’t afford to ignore any hint that somebody else is trying to achieve another balance. Even if it turns out to be only another wild outland rumor. Do you understand?”

Kane said quietly, “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. I hope I’ve alleviated some of the doubts from your mind. And that’s it for now.”

Kane rose and started for the door.

“Kane?”

He paused, half turning. “Sir?”

Salvo held a short stack of slip-sleeved computer disks between his hands. Idly he fanned them out on the desktop, like a pack of cards. “You didn’t happen to pick up anything from Reeth’s place tonight, did you?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, like anything.”

Kane slipped his dark glasses on over his eyes. “No. Why do you ask?”

Salvo clucked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Just routine. I’ll be asking the same question of every member of the team.”

“I see.” Kane turned back to the doorway. “Good night. Sir.”

Chapter Six

As he walked past the armory, Salvo’s stomach muscles clenched tightly. They always did when he approached the huge storage facility that occupied nearly a quarter of C Level.

A pair of gray-clad men, eyes masked by dark glasses, stood guard before the recessed, massive vanadium-alloy sec door. They held full-auto Commando Arms carbines across their chests and they didn’t acknowledge Salvo’s approach or passing with so much as a nod, even though technically he was their superior officer. The protocol of armory sentries was very simplechill anyone who tried to gain entrance, regardless of rank or social standing. Only a direct voice authorization from the baron was good for admittance.

The knowledge that even he was a legitimate target when around the arsenal always turned the pomp of Salvo’s high rank to tinsel. It seemed disrespectful. Oh, he understood the reasons for the strict regulationsthe walls of the huge chamber were lined with rack after rack of assorted weaponry, everything from rifles and shotguns to pistols, mortars and rocket launchers. Crates of ammunition were stacked up to the ceiling. Armored assault vehicles were also parked there, the Hussar Hotspurs and the AMACs, not to mention disassembled Deathbirds.

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