The Universe — or Nothing by Meyer Moldeven (i like reading .txt) 📕

I want him to see it coming," Angel said over his shoulder.

Hodak pressed his fingernail against a pip on the instrument in his hand and felt it vibrate with energy. Thrusting his arm further into the tunnel's bend he hurled the boomerang toward Angel.

The weapon reached its maximum velocity within two meters of the throw. Moving at a speed that made it invisible to the naked eye, it flew silently and true.

The slender implement curved around Angel's neck and, without stopping, completed its return to Hodak's hand.

Angel's head was gone from his shoulders.

The sound of Angel's falling body startled the two staring expectantly at Ram, waiting for the execution shot. Turning, they gaped at what had been Angel. They scrambled in panic to press their backs against the tunnel wall. Dropping the soil-fusers, they drew and waved their weapons about.

One of them shouted, "Flume. Can you hear me,
Flume?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Whatta ya want?"

"Get back here, quick."

Flume came running, took in the scene and joined the other two against the wall. Together, they stared at Angel, then along the tunnel, one direction then the other.

"What the hell's goin' on?"

"How do I know? We didn't hear anything, then the noise of him falling. We looked and there he was and there was his head. We had our eyes on the big guy; couldn'a been him did it."

"What do we do now?"

"Search me."

"Let's get outta here."

"Can't. We gotta finish the job, or Scarf'll burn us alive."

"Then we better stick together from now on," Flume said. "You two finish cutting the hole but now make it deeper. I'll keep watch. Soon as you're ready we'll load 'em in, seal it up with stuff from around here, and scram."

As Hodak watched, Patch and Swat recovered sufficiently to raise their soil-fusers and direct the nozzles at the tunnel's wall.

An amber glow formed on the fuser's tips and the tunnel wall's surface bubbled and flowed toward the floor in the light gravity. Wielding the fusers expertly they distributed its liquefied substance in a rough, irregular pattern, blending it in with the surrounding surfaces. The excess that reached the floor quickly hardened to match the rubble strewn about.

Flume, back against the opposite wall, weapon high and ready, peered tensely about. Finally satisfied, Patch switched off his fuser and tapped Swat on the shoulder. Swat glanced at him, switched off, and they stepped back.

"This'll do it," Patch said. "Load Angel in first.
The back of the hole is too small for the big guy."

He leaned over, grasped the open-eyed head by a hank of hair and flung it into the hole. The head disappeared with a soft thud. Swat joined Patch; each grasped one of the body's arms and legs and they heaved it in after the head. Patch leaned into the hole and pushed the solid flesh as far as it would go. Turning, he motioned Swat toward Ram.

For a moment Flume faced away from Hodak. He did not see the boomerang before it twisted around his throat and was gone.

Intent on Ram, Swat and Patch saw neither the strike nor the weapon. They heard a gurgling sound and whirled. Flume was on the tunnel floor, blood pulsing from the neck of his headless torso. The head, itself, had rolled against the opposite wall, eyes open.

Panicked, they fired frantically down the tunnel in both directions.

The boomerang back in his hand, Hodak waited. An open assault was unacceptable, both for himself and for Ram. He would be cut down with a single sweep of the killers' heavy handguns, and with his identity revealed, Scarf would track down the Sentinels with a vengeance.

Snapping a quick peek he saw Patch and Swat back to back in the middle of the tunnel, facing in opposite directions and whispering to each other in terror. Guessing the distance between the two he extended the boomerang slightly and pressed the pip.

Stepping away from the wall Hodak threw the boomerang around the bend.

One of the targets must have seen it coming.
There was the beginning of a scream.

Boomerang back in hand, Hodak walked around the bend. Patch lay quietly; Swat's body still quivered.

Hodak took less than five minutes to enlarge the hole, load the newly dead in with their companions, and smooth the surface to match the tunnel's wall.

Ram, groggy, sat against the opposite wall and watched.

Chapter THIRTY

The space was little more than two meters across, a vault cut into the side of a tunnel to store construction supplies. It was enough.

Leaving Ram in the dimly lit space to recover, Hodak rushed to an exit, surfaced, took his bearings, and found Brad in his office. Brad immediately sensed the urgency from Hodak's expression.

"Let's get our people together," Brad ordered. Hodak quickly passed the word and, within minutes, the Sentinels convened in an empty air lock.

Myra left for headquarters to cover; the remainder strung out behind Hodak to the subsurface vault where he'd left Ram.

##

"And that's it." Ram finished recapping his trip as he gingerly rubbed the large bruise on his head.

"They're lining up for a confrontation," he said, "both political and military, and Slingshot is the club they'll hold over us. They think they smell the blood of victory, and there isn't a cool head among them."

He turned to Brad.

"Your message was incomplete," he said. "What was left out?"

"Narval's planning guidance on the assault launch point," Brad replied, citing the coordinates, bringing Ram up to date.

They were silent as Ram mulled over his options. Sighing, he rose and stretched his frame, bending slightly to keep his head from scraping against the vault's roof.

"The attack on me must have been approved by Narval," he said. "My feeling is he didn't want to talk to me because his preparations and commitments are too far along. He feared that, had we met, I might get enough from our discussions to see his game plan. I've got to get home — fast." Grinning at Brad, he asked, "OK, how are you going to get me out of this rat's nest and back to my ship?"

##

Narval screeched, face twisted, hands pounding the desk.

"What do you mean, standing there and telling me you've lost track of your people? Not that I give a damn about them, but you gave them a simple job to do, and I want to know, now, where it stands."

"That's just it, Mr. President," Scarf said, his normally ruddy face gray with fear. "I haven't received a 'sitrep' from my agent-in-charge. I did get an interim report from the back-up observer I assigned to track them from the Charnel Pit. According to him, the Ambassador was taken into custody immediately upon leaving the bar. Along the way he resisted and had to be — uh — restrained. Everything looked to be under control, so the observer left to report."

"Tell me precisely what you ordered your agent to do."

"Identify himself as coming from Drummer. Take the Ambassador into custody under the pretext of escorting him to a private meeting with you. While in custody, and without witnesses, Xindral was to be terminated and his body buried in a tunnel. The site was to be returned to its original appearance, and Xindral's possessions brought to me."

"Where is this site located?"

"My agent was to give me the exact location when he delivered the Ambassador's personal effects."

"You mean you don't even know where to start looking? Is that what you're saying?"

"I know the location where they took him down. Well, I got a problem there too; the subsurface junction branches off in several directions."

"Is it possible Xindral overcame his restraints and neutralized your team?"

"Not likely, sir. The observer said he saw sufficient force used against Xindral when he resisted to render him unconscious."

Narval sank back into his chair, head lowered, staring into his lap. Raising his head, he fixed burning eyes on Scarf.

"Despite your assurances, Scarf, I think it not only possible, but likely, that Xindral got away from your team. For all you know, your goons may be in hiding, afraid to face you with the truth. If Xindral's still alive, he must have concluded by now that the attempt against him would not have occurred without my approval. So, we're committed, and I can't afford to wait."

He pointed a shaking finger at Scarf.

"Xindral can leave Coldfield only through an air lock. Post extra guards. Deploy patrols to strips leading to air locks on the perimeter. Mark him as a newly arrived renegade, a killer and genetic flake dangerous to Coldfield's safety. Order your people to take no chances with him; he is to be destroyed on sight. I want Xindral found, and I want him dead. Do it. Now! Move!"

##

Hodak was back from scouting the tunnel up ahead.
The way was clear with an exit a kilometer distant.
The opposite direction would lead them back to the
center of Coldfield.

Brad cocked an eyebrow at Ram. Ram nodded.

Hodak and Kumiko took point, Brad behind Ram. Zolan and Adari rear guard. They covered ground swiftly.

The passageway widened, and a ramp led up to a mezzanine from which other tunnels branched. Ascending the ramp Hodak disappeared into a low, narrow entryway in the wall. The others followed. Ram folded to his knees and went flat to squeeze through. The cut ended abruptly at a rock face. A ladder rose to the dim outline of a manhole.

Kumiko climbed and slipped a slender filament through the tiny gap between the edge of the utility cover and its frame. Below, Zolan inserted the free end of the filament into a clip on the bridge of a pair of goggles, and donned them.

"Up a mite," he called to Kumiko. "OK, hold it, now scan a 360, slow."

He gave the goggles to Brad who donned them and scoped the ground level through the filament.

"The manhole is in a cul-de-sac, closed in on three sides by walls set back about two meters from where we are. The cul-de-sac accesses a street on which traffic is passing. The dome's inside wall is on the far side, and I see some markings on it. Each of you, look about and get your bearings. Speak up if you recognize the area or the markings."

The goggles passed from one to the other. Zolan tossed them up to Kumiko at the top of the ladder and caught them when they were lowered. He handed them to Ram who peered at the ground scene as he listened.

"Strip markings," Adari said. "They're usually located to orient folks coming in from the outside. My guess is we're close to a strip or an air lock."

"Any idea which one?" Brad asked.

"Not from appearances," Adari replied, "but I kept track of our twists and turns to this point, and the way I figure, we're in the western quadrant of the city. The sector has more air locks than the others because it's on the main route to landing pads for the maintenance shops. We've lucked out — maybe."

"What do you mean by 'maybe'? Don't hold back."

"The traffic. More people about."

The silence was heavy.

"If we can make it to an air lock without being challenged," Brad said, "we'll get Ram to a taxi. Hodak, can you rig a taxi to manual control and leave it with enough power for a one-time flight through the depot's cocoon?"

Hodak, Zolan and Adari put their heads together. Ram shoved his head in among them, and vigorous hand motions cut the air. Ram nodded as Hodak turned back to Brad.

"Can do," he said.

"Next item," Brad said. "Ram, can you get your long frame into a standard suit?"

"Once we get into the air lock I'll look for the biggest suit on the rack. Then I'll just have to push, pull and squeeze. Won't be the first time."

Brad looked up at Kumiko, holding the scope in place.

"Got it?" He called up.

"Yep."

"Comments?"

"As long as I'm up here, how about me taking point?"

"OK. Now, all of you. Set weapons at max. If we're seen and tied to Ram, the whole operation is compromised. So we'll have no witnesses. Act accordingly."

Kumiko pushed the manhole lid aside, climbed out and darted forward to where she could see along the street. She took in the scene quickly.

Several people passed on a nearby strip. They did not notice Kumiko. She waited until they passed where they could have seen into the cul-de-sac, then signaled the others up.

As Zolan came abreast of Kumiko he drew a pencil-thin tube from a pocket in his tunic. Holding it in one hand he twisted the knurled knob that formed one end, and returned it to his pocket. He winked at Brad who had come up