Rolth had been studying the map and now he dug a fingernail into the center of the square representing Cummi’s hold.
“I notice you don’t have the tube-tunnel marked—”
“What tube-tunnel?” Krowli wanted to know.
Smitt smashed his fist down on the box and swore at the pain. “I’m three kinds of a Domanti idiot,” he shouted. And then Kartr’s explanation interrupted him.
“It depends now upon whether Cummi has discovered those underground routes,” the sergeant concluded.
“He doesn’t know of them—I’m almost certain of that! None of us heard of them before—unless the techneers have discovered them and kept the secret.”
Rolth looked up. “If they did just that we may be leading a forlorn hope right into a stinger’s nest.”
“And if they don’t know”—Smitt was almost exultant—“we’ll be in their midst before they are aware of it!”
“You’ve got to pick the right men for this,” Kartr warned without any of Smitt’s enthusiasm. “You’re the right type, Smitt. They can’t crack your mind shield. But the rest—we’ll have to have men with whom the Can-hound and Cummi can’t tamper. Now take that fellow who brought us in—he isn’t a sensitive, at least he doesn’t seem to be, yet he caught my thought beam and jumped us at once.”
“That must have been Norgot. He has had good reason to learn how to protect himself against mind invasion. He was one of the Satsati hostages—”
“So!” Rolth paid tribute. “No wonder he was edgy when you tried to probe him, Kartr. He ought to be a perfect choice for the boarding party.”
“Boarding party!” thought Kartr fleetingly. Odd how the space terms stuck in their speech even now when they were permanently earthed.
“Yes,” he said aloud. “Any more of his caliber around?”
Krowli beckoned to one of the men who had just finished eating. “You’re a sensitive, Sergeant. We’ll leave the selection up to you.”
In the end they assembled eight men with mind shields tight enough to make them possibilities. Kartr longed for Zinga and Fylh, but so far nothing had been heard from the Bemmy rangers, although the rebel patrols had been alerted to keep watch for them.
Together the party of ten descended one by one in the gravity well the rangers had first discovered. There was a single car at the platform and three was a very tight fit for the voyage. But they made it that way, with Rolth at the controls each trip forward and back. And at last they stood near the plate elevator under Cummi’s headquarters. Kartr could see no indication that there had been any visitors there since the time he and the Faltharian had passed that way before.
It was those two other stops along the way, the ones they had sped by then, which interested him now. If there was any welcoming party waiting for them at the top of the shaft it might be well to make an earlier stop. So he pushed the lowest button on the wall. The five of them who had managed to crowd on the plate clung together as they were whisked up.
Their support came to a stop in darkness and Kartr marshaled his four companions off to let the elevator sink back. Then he dared to flash his beam about.
They were on a ledge from which a ramp ran up into the darkness. Underfoot was a coating of fine, gritty dust which Kartr believed had not been disturbed for centuries. And there was no indication of life other than their own, his perception assured him of that. Cummi must be ignorant of this breach in his defenses.
The swish of displaced air heralded the arrival of the plate again and then Smitt, Rolth and the other three rebels joined them. Rolth hung out over the well and surveyed the space overhead.
“Okay. It closed up when the plate hit bottom. Unless someone was up there watching at just this moment they’ll never know.”
Kartr switched off his torch and Rolth took the lead, each man grasping hold of the belt of the one before him, forming a chain to negotiate the dark through which only Rolth could pass freely. At first the angle of the ramp was a steep one, but it began to level off until they found themselves in a large room, coming around the base of a partition into a lighted space filled with the buzz of running machinery. The partition from this side seemed solid wall and Kartr did not wonder that the ramp and the shaft it led to had not been discovered. At the same instant he not only became aware of a man ahead but was able to identify him.
“Dalgre!”
The sergeant beckoned to Smitt. “Dalgre’s ahead—with another—maybe a guard, unless he has joined Cummi. You might have better luck contacting him than I would. And I can cover you—”
The com-techneer replied with a short nod and signaled to his rebel followers to stay where they were. Then, together with Kartr, he ran from the shadow of one giant machine to another, until they were able to see into a pool of brighter light where Dalgre sat before the board of controls and a man in the rumpled uniform of a jetman lounged several feet away, a force beam projector cradled in his arm.
Kartr touched Smitt’s shoulder and pointed to himself and then to the left, a path which would, with continued luck, bring him near the guard. He took it, moving like a gray wisp of fog around machines whose purpose he could not guess, until he came up behind the jetman. From where he crouched he could see the tip of Smitt’s helmet ridge crest.
Then the com-techneer stepped boldly out and in that same instant Kartr sprang, bringing the butt of his blaster down on the guard’s right arm. The man screamed and doubled up against the side of the control board, dropping the projector which flew across the floor. In a second Dalgre had scooped it up and was in a half crouch ready to fire. But Smitt’s familiar grays were in his sights and he did not squeeze the trigger.
“Very neat,” commented the com-techneer. “One would think you had practiced it. I take it that you are not a convert to Cummi, Dalgre?”
The Patrolman showed his teeth. “Is that likely? They needed me—so I’m still alive. But they blasted Snyn and the Commander—maybe Jaksan also for all I know—”
“What?” all three of the Patrol demanded almost with a single voice.
“Did it an hour ago. Last I heard Jaksan and the medico were barricaded in the west wing. This is a madhouse. About time we put some fear for the Comet back into these space-blasted fools! If it weren’t for the Can-hound being able to find out where everyone is and what he’s doing, I’d have tried to make a break before this—”
The jetman guard was tied with his own belt to the legs of the bench before the control board. Kartr looked over the array of dials there.
“Anything you can do to this that might put the odds in our favor?”
Dalgre grinned ruefully. “I’m afraid to chance it. I’m no real mech-techneer. And they gave me only a half hour’s briefing before they put me here. If I pull the wrong lever I might blow us up. Too bad—because we might be able to shake them right out of the building if we only knew what all those gadgets mean.”
“How do you get out of here?” one of the rebels wanted to know.
“Anti-gravity lift.” Dalgre guided them to an alcove beyond the control board. “Only trouble is that they may have a guard on the upper level who will become suspicious if we rise before my shift is up.”
“And how long will that be?”
Dalgre consulted his wrist dial. “A full half hour, planet time.”
“Can’t wait that long,” Kartr decided. “Any other stops on this rise beside the one you are supposed to use?”
“No.”
“But there is something else—” Rolth had been examining the walls of the shaft. “Here are holds for hands and feet—perhaps to be used in times of emergency. We can climb out—”
And climb they did. Kartr caught the message of a stranger ahead—the guard Dalgre had predicted. It was also Dalgre who had the answer.
“Let me hail him—”
The sergeant pulled back against the side of the well and kept only a single handhold on the climbing bars as the other Patrolman squeezed by him. A moment later they heard Dalgre hail whoever was at the top.
“Give us a hand—”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m no mech-techneer—send for one of your fellows—one of these blasted machines down here is running wild. It may blow us up or something!”
Dalgre climbed the last few feet out of the shaft and moved away from its mouth.
“Where’s Taleng? Why didn’t he come up with the message?” The guard was openly suspicious.