“Now you are talking my language! For the first time I have some interest in this poisonous project. Bring on the records-and some food-and I will see what I can do.”
Not very much I thought to myself after hours of reading and rereading the thin file, while eating a number of stale and tasteless sandwiches. The Admiral was slumped asleep in the armchair and snoring like a rocket exhaust. There were no answers here, so some questions were very much in order. Which gave me the sweet pleasure of waking him up. A few good shakes did it and those nasty little red eyes glared into mine.
“You better have a good reason for that.”
“I do. How much do you personally know about Liokukae?”
“Everything, you dimwit. That is why I am here.”
“It seems to be pretty tightly sealed up.”
“Pretty tightly is not the way I would describe it. Hermetically sealed, guarded, patrolled, watched, locked tight, quarantined – take your pick. Food and medicines are shipped in. Nothing comes out.”
“Do they have their own doctors?”
“No. Medical teams are stationed there in the hospital inside the landing station-which is built like a fortress. And before you even ask-the answer is no. What little trust there is between the Navy and the Liokukaers involves the medical services. They come to us and we treat them. Let them suspect for an instant that the medicos are involved in hanky-panky and the trust is gone. Disease and death would be certain. We’re not taking a chance on that.”
“If the rest of the civilized galaxy doesn’t know about them – what do they know about us?”
“Everything I suppose. We do not practice censorship. We transmit all the usual TV entertainment channels as well as educational and news services. They are well supplied with television receivers and can watch reruns of all the most loathsome programs and series. The theory being if we can stun their minds with televised crap they won’t get up to more trouble.”
“Does it work?”
“Possibly. But we do know that they are rated on top of the galactic viewing scale for uninterrupted hours in front of the gogglebox.”
“You go there and take surveys?”
“Don’t be stupid. Recorders are sealed into the chassis of each set. These can be tapped by satellite.”
“So what we have here is a planet of murderous, belligerent, nutsy TV fans?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
I jumped to my feet, spilling dry crumbs of dead sandwiches onto the carpet. Raised my fists, and my voice, on high.
“That’s it!”
Benbow blinked at me rapidly and scowled.
“What’s it?”
“The answer. It is just the glimmering of an idea now-but I know that it will grow and expand into something incredible. I’m going to sleep on it and when I awake I will polish it and perfect it and describe it to you in detail.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t be greedy. All in good time.”
CHAPTER 4
The automated kitchen produced another stale sandwich, the machine was half-knackered and out of adjustment, along with a lukewarm cup of watery cocoa. I crunched and sipped gloomily, then found the bedroom down the hall. Air-conditioned of course-but the window wasn’t sealed. I opened it and sniffed the cool night air. The moon was rising, to join the other three already up. Made for some interesting shadows. A leg over the windowsill, a drop into the garden-and I would be long gone before any alarm might go off.
And I would be dead in twenty-nine days. That little drink I had drunk in prison really concentrated my attention and guaranteed my loyalty. But could I pull this complicated operation off in that space of time?
Considering the consequences I had no choice. I sighed tremulously, closed the window and went to bed. It had been a very, very long day.
In the morning I had picked the lock on the control panel in the kitchen and was busy rewiring it when Admiral Benbow came in.
“May I inquire politely just what the hell you are doing?”
“Obviously trying to get this crook device to produce something other than stale cheese sandwiches. There!”