* * *
A grin of pranksterly delight adorned Kieran’s face as he watched the latest exchanges within the enemy camp.
“What?” Banks managed, in the nearest he could manage that would otherwise probably have been close to a shriek. “He was there? You let him in? Why wasn’t I consulted?”
“The health of the men of my unit was at issue,” Cobert’s voice replied distantly and primly—Kieran didn’t have a tap on the local link to the Venning, so he had to make do with a relayed transmission of the audio coming through inside the Mule. “I decided that the possible risk of undue delay by involving external parties was unacceptable.”
“Do I have to remind you that you are under our commission?” Banks seethed.
“Matters subject to direct military orders are still my prerogative,” Cobert retorted.
“Who was this doctor of theirs, again?” Farquist asked, from inside the Mule with Banks.
“You said his name was what?” Banks queried.
“O’Toole,” Cobert answered.
“Never heard of him,” Farquist growled.
“You don’t mean Turle?”
“I said, O’Toole.”
“What did he look like?”
“From what you can tell in a suit: tall, well built, lean face—tanned, brown hair. Late thirties, maybe forties.”
“Not graying hair, more fifties-ish?”
“No. I’ve just told you.”
“Hmph.”
“There isn’t any pulmonary lenticular encolitis listed in the references,” Farquist said. “It doesn’t even make sense. And I’ve never heard of closed-cabin infection.”
Velte, who had been following with rising exasperation on a link from Asgard, interrupted. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere. Toole, Turle, whatever his name is—get him over there and have him account for himself in person. It’s the only way we’ll make any sense out of this. The whole thing is turning into a farce.”
“I’ll call Hashikar and—” Banks began.
“No!” Velte snapped. “Why tip them off and give them a chance to think up something else? Just send a squad out there and grab him. Are you there, Major?”
“I hear you,” Cobert’s voice answered.
“How bad are things with your men at the moment? Are they up to it?”
“Queasy, but soldiers have fought with worse. Best to do it now, before they deteriorate further.”
“Let’s get on with it, then,” Velte directed.
At that moment another voice, sounding as if it were coming through on an internal speaker, announced, “Attention, attention! Possible hostile alert. Approaching radar contact thirty kilometers, one-ninety degrees low, not responding to ID INT. Fire team to stations.”
* * *
Clad in a light orange flight suit, Lee Mullen sat up front in the folding jump seat behind the pilot and c-com op. Behind, in the main body of the Airchief pickup skimming in from the south, the ten armed heavies that he had recruited for the raid to seize Thane and bring him in sat in two impassive lines along the sides. It should be a cinch, all had agreed. A quick swoop; just a bunch of geekspeaks and schoolteachers on a caravan tour . . . They’d be on the ground, have him out, and be away before the first graybeard had finished talking.
The pilot turned his head and indicated forward with a nod. “Coming into view now.”
“Squad ready,” the c-com op said over the cabin intercom. “Target in sight. Helmets secure. Final kit and weapons check.”
Mullen craned forward to look. The terrain was as they had seen on the graphic reconstruction from the information given by the people at Stony Flats: a high plateau with a steep side facing a broad, flat valley with hills beyond. The scientists’ camp was where the contact had said it would be: on a rocky shelf halfway up, reached by a zigzag road.
“Three . . . no, four aircraft,” the pilot commented. He sounded surprised. “Wasn’t this supposed to be an overland trip?”
“They must be having visitors,” the c-com op said.
“Too bad we’ll have to spoil the party . . . So where are the trucks?”
“Aren’t they the two square shapes at the back?”
“Those look more like portashacks to me.” The pilot turned inquiringly to Mullen again. “Maybe we should circle first and check it out.”
“Fast in and out,” Mullen reminded him. “It’s not worth losing surprise over. Stick to the plan. We’re going straight in.”