Backshot (18 page)

“Is she going to call someone and ask where you are when you don’t show up on time?”

Nijakin hung his head and shook it.

“Why didn’t you leave through the front gate with everybody else?”

Nijakin sighed. “They think I’m a security risk. I’m confined to the compound.” His mouth twisted.

“That’s why Mari won’t call when I don’t show up. She knows that sometimes I can’t get out.”

“Aren’t you concerned about being reported when security saw you through the surveillance camera when you left the tunnel?” Kindy asked. Daly glanced toward his voice. He knew there had to be a camera in the tunnel, but hadn’t known the entrance was also covered by a camera.

“I have a friend,” Nijakin said. “He puts a loop in the system when I go in and out so security doesn’t see me.”

“When are you supposed to go back in?” Daly asked.

“An hour before sunrise.” A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. Now Daly knew how they could get into the compound. “Where is it?” he asked Kindyon on a tight-beam.

Kindy tight-beamed the coordinates of the tunnel entrance and the visuals he’d taken of the entrance setup. Daly examined the images on his HUD. Yes, that was how they could get in.

“What have we here?” Sergeant Bingh asked as he and his squad slid into the hollow.

“Kindy, tell them.”

Kindy took the second squad leader aside and touched helmets to catch him up on his and Nomonon’s discovery of the tunnel entrance and their capture of a prisoner.

“I have to keep you tied up so you can’t run away,” Daly told Nijakin, “but I don’t want to gag you. Can you keep quiet?”

“Yes. Nobody in the compound could hear me if I yelled anyway. We’re too far away.”

“Are you thirsty? I can give you a drink if you’re thirsty.”

“No, I’m not thirsty.” Lucyon Nijakin almost laughed. He thought it ironic that a man who was about to kill him would be so solicitous.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A Hillside Near the Cabbage Patch Agricultural Research Facility, Union of Margelan, Atlas

“Sorry, sir,” Sergeant Daly said when Lieutenant Tevedes arrived with the rest of the platoon. “Second squad didn’t bring him in until after I sent my report.”

“That’s all right,” Lieutenant Tevedes said, eyeing the prisoner. He and Daly stood facing each other, only a meter apart, talking over tight-beam radios directed at each other’s torso pickups so nobody else could receive.

Lucyon Nijakin knew more invisible men had arrived even though nobody had told him and he couldn’t see anyone for himself. There were more minor sounds to tease his ears and taunt him—and it
felt
like he was in the middle of a larger crowd by then. His demeanor went from resigned sadness back to active fear.

“What have you gotten out of him?”

Daly gave the officer the short version of his interrogation of Nijakin, which amounted to little more than, “It sounds like they’re making artillery or rocket components.”

“What’s the place look like?” Daly transmitted his map visuals and the summary of Sergeant Bingh’s census.

Tevedes studied the material for a moment, then said, “I hope you don’t mind, Sergeant, but I want to question him myself.”

“Please do, sir. I imagine you’ll come up with questions I didn’t think of.”

“What’s his name?”

“Lucyon Nijakin.”

Tevedes squatted down in front of Nijakin and turned his external speaker on at low volume. Nijakin flinched, and pressed his back into the tree trunk he sat against. He’d been right, there were more people, this was a voice he hadn’t heard before. His lower lip trembled.

“Mr. Nijakin, how big is your garrison?” was the first thing Tevedes wanted to know after he asked the same questions Daly did to establish who the prisoner was and his position in the Cabbage Patch.

“I-I’m not a soldier, I don’t know exactly how many. There are more than two hundred soldiers. Maybe three hundred, that’s all I’m sure of.” He visibly hesitated, then added, “There could be even more, I just don’t know.” He tried to shrug, but it turned into a shudder. “I don’t have much to do with the soldiers.”

“What about scientists and technicians? How many of each?”

Nijakin thought for a moment, moving his lips as though he was naming them to himself. “There are nine scientists. Each of them has three or four lab assistants. I guess they’re what you’d call techs—wait, Dr. Kabahl, I think he’s the chief scientist—he’s the scientific administrator, anyway—has six lab assistants. Then there are twenty-five of us machinists and other skilled trades, we’ve got I think twelve helpers.”

While he talked he got control of his expression and finished by looking at where he thought Tevedes’s face was, doing his best to look helpful and cooperative.

“How are these people armed?”

“The soldiers have soldier weapons. I’ve never been a soldier, I don’t know what—”

“I mean you people, the machinists and techs,” Tevedes interrupted. “How are you armed?”

Nijakin looked shocked by the question. “Armed? We’re civilians. We aren’t armed; we aren’t soldiers!”

Tevedes didn’t reply to Nijakin’s denial, not that he necessarily believed him. Instead he asked,

“Administration. How many?”

“There’s Dr. Truque, he’s in charge of the center. Secretaries, accounting, payroll—seven or eight people altogether. I’m not sure, maybe ten. I don’t have much to do with them, either, except—” He stopped.

“Except?” Tevedes prompted.

“Except—” Nijakin paused, “—there’s a woman . . .”

“A woman?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you like her?”

Nijakin looked down to the side and nodded.

“Does she like you?”

“I think so,” he said weakly.

“Well, Mr. Nijakin, let’s try to get you back to her quickly. You’re being very helpful. Now, is there anyone you haven’t told me about?”

“Nossir. That’s everybody I can think of,” Nijakin said.

“So you’re telling me there are nearly four hundred people in the facility, and more than three hundred of them are soldiers. Is that right?”

“Yessir, close to four hundred, that sounds about right.”

“How many of the scientists are agronomists or biologists?”

Nijakin blinked and looked puzzled. “All of them! What other kinds of scientists would you expect to find at an agricultural research center?”

“If the Cabbage Patch is really an agricultural research facility,” Tevedes asked sarcastically, “why does it need so many soldiers?”

“Atlas is an agricultural world,” Nijakin blurted. “Food production is power here. The center needs the soldiers in case some other country tries to steal our secrets. The Union of Margelan has enemies who . . .”

His eyes and mouth suddenly formed large “O”s. He thought furiously, these invisible men, they spoke with some kind of accent. What was it? Did it sound like—yes it did! “You’re from—”

Tevedes stopped Nijakin by pressing invisible fingers to his lips. “Where’s the other end of the tunnel you came out of?”

“I-It’s on the side of the power plant facing l-lab three.”

“Which one is lab three?”

“It’s the b-building next to the p-power plant, t-to the east of the p-power plant.”

“How is the entrance guarded?”

Nijakin shook his head. “I-It’s not g-guarded.”

“Is it locked?”

Nijakin shook his head again. “It d-doesn’t even have a d-door.”

Tevedes called up Daly’s map on his HUD and examined it. If the inside entrance to the tunnel was on the east side of the power plant, that put it in sight of the new barracks to the south. That shouldn’t be a problem for his Marines, not with their chameleons. And it was only twenty meters from there to lab three, which meant they could easily get into the lab and see positively what was there.

“There’s a communications tower in the middle of the compound, radio and microwave. What other communications are there?”

“Th-That’s everything.”

“No other communications? No buried wires?”

Nijakin’s eyes wandered to the side for a moment, as though he was lost in thought. Then he shook his head. “No, n-nothing that I kn-know of.”

“What are the dimensions of the tunnel? I mean how wide and how high?

“It’s two meters high and a meter wide.” Nijakin decided to seem helpful and cooperative again and his stammering stopped again. “It’s made of fused lithocrete and has motion-sensitive lighting.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nijakin. You’ve been very helpful.”

Nijakin tensed, expecting to be shot or garroted. Tevedes did neither. Instead he asked, “Are you hungry? If you are, I can have your hands untied long enough for you to eat and drink something.”

Nijakin’s stomach growled.

“That sounds like you missed dinner.”

Nijakin couldn’t help saying, “The condemned man’s last meal, is that it?”

“Nothing like that, Mr. Nijakin. When we’re done here, you’ll be free to go.”

Tevedes turned off his external speaker and toggled on his command circuit radio. “Gunny, have the Doc check the prisoner for anything obvious, then have somebody give him a meal. Keep his feet tied while he eats, and secure his hands again when he’s finished. Join me when you’ve done that.”

Tevedes made sure his UV markers were on so Lytle could find him, and went off by himself to plan the raid.

Gunny Lytle joined him a couple of minutes later and touched helmets. “What do we have, Lieutenant?”

“Call up your map.” Tevedes linked Daly’s overlay of the compound into Lytle’s HUD and made a mark on the side of the power plant.

“From what the prisoner says, it sounds like Lavager is making advanced weapons components in this supposed agricultural research facility. If anybody wants to believe it’s farm equipment, I have a solid gold asteroid I’d like to interest them in.

“We’ll take the platoon in through the tunnel at two hours, everybody but the duty guards should be asleep then. This is where the tunnel lets into the compound.” He highlighted the mark on the side of the power plant. “The first thing we’ll have to do is destroy the communications tower.” He marked it. “I’ll go into lab three,” he marked it as well, “with one squad from first section to collect evidence—Daly and his people have done all the hard work, they should get the job of gathering the proof of what they found. Do you agree?”

“I was going to suggest first squad if you didn’t,” Lytle agreed.

“Once we have the evidence, you bring the rest of the platoon out of the tunnel. The rest of first section sets the charges while second section provides security. We should be in and out in less than half an hour. Any questions?”

“It works for me.”

“Good. How’s our prisoner doing?”

“Doc says he’s okay, just more scared than he’s probably ever been before. Bos gave him a ration.”

Lytle chuckled softly. “He’s eating like somebody’s forcing him to. I believe he thinks we’re going to kill him.”

Tevedes snorted. “Yeah, I know. What he doesn’t know is we’re Confederation Marines, we only kill people who need to be killed. Mr. Nijakin doesn’t need to be killed.” He paused for a moment to consider what he wanted the prisoner to know. “He thinks we’re from one of the other nation-states on Atlas. Let’s not disabuse him of that notion.”

“I like the way you think, Mr. Tevedes,” Lytle said.

“Did Doc give him a sedative?”

“No. He said Nijakin would probably think it was some kind of poison pill, and didn’t want to scare him any more than he already is.”

“Good thinking on Doc’s part,” Tevedes said. He paused, looking west, toward the compound that was looking more and more like a weapons research facility. “One more thing I’m thinking about.”

Lytle made an expectant noise.

“I’m wondering if we have enough yet to justify sending the go code.”

Lytle had been wondering the same thing. He had a few more years, about three or four, experience as a Marine than Tevedes, but the lieutenant had more training due to Officer Candidate College. While Lytle was certain some officers would decide the strong defenses of the facility, combined with what the machinist told them, was convincing enough to justify sending the go code, they didn’t have actual physical proof. Assassinating a sovereign head of state was too serious for anything less. “If the lieutenant’s asking my advice or opinion, I think we need to get our hands on hard proof before you make that serious a decision.”

Tevedes nodded; it was all right that Lytle couldn’t see the nod, it was to himself more than to the other Marine. “I do believe you’re right. I like the way
you
think, Gunnery Sergeant.”

Lytle chuckled. “I’ll get the platoon ready to move.”

“You do that.”

Lytle stood and went to check that the platoon was ready while Tevedes prepared a report to burst beam to the
Admiral Nelson
and a message for the starship to relay to the waiting AstroGhost. When the
Admiral Nelson
was overhead he climbed a tree, located her, and beamed his messages. He got the acknowledging click, then returned to the ground. All that was left now was to wait for the time to enter the tunnel.

En Route to the Cabbage Patch

Sergeant Kindy and Corporal Nomonon led the way to the tunnel, the ultraviolet markers on their shoulders allowed the others to see them to follow. Tevedes had ordered everyone to use their markers; he thought the risk of detection was less than the risk of somebody getting lost. On Tevedes’s order, Kindy fingered the bark of the tree with the ill-camouflaged security camera and found the control panel cover. It flipped open easily. Too little starlight shone through the foliage for him to see, but his fingers found the keypad easily enough. He looked at the pad in infrared and saw the faint outlines of the keys. Six of the keys glowed slightly, as though they retained heat from recent use. Kindy hesitated. He was positive Nijakin had only touched five keys to pivot the rock slab back into place, so why did six keys look like they’d been used? Did it use different combinations for opening and closing? He remembered the prisoner had said he had a friend who put a loop in the system when Nijakin used the tunnel. Maybe the sixth button sent a signal to his friend. But Nijakin was still secured to the tree behind the hollow, so he couldn’t ask. He keyed in the sequence he’d memorized. With a faint
click,
the slab rose a few centimeters and pivoted to the side. Corporal Nomonon immediately sat next to the opening and swiveled to lower his legs into it. His feet found the rungs of a ladder and he climbed down. The hole was about six meters deep. At its foot, using his light gatherer screen, Nomonon saw a control panel like the one imbedded in the tree above. He had to turn around to face into the tunnel. He raised a hand to feel for the ceiling; it was low enough that he had to duck to keep from banging his helmet on it. He took a step and froze when lights came on ahead of him.

He peered, the lit area extended thirty meters ahead of him. He took a couple more steps and the lighting extended an equal distance ahead.