Chapter 19: Return from Saturn.

Sands sat in the forward passenger compartment of the Titanian freighterNightingale and watched Saturn's bloated form recede below him. The freighter was one of a dozen that transported spools ofwire and other finished metal products down to Saturn and then returned to the moon with the products of the cloud cities. Sands had joined the ship more than a month earlier at Titania spaceport for his mission to buy heavy-duty environment suits for the Titanian expedition to Earth. His mission was complete and he was returning to Titan a different man than when he left.

It had taken three days to cross the gulf of space between Titan and its oversize parent. Unlike his first trip into space, Sands had hardly been bothered by zero gee vertigo at all. Indeed, his weeks in Titan's one-sixth gee had acclimated him to the sensation of less than normal gravity.

The freighter's first scheduled stop had been the city of Columbus in the South Polar Belt. Sands had left the ship there to book passage via public airship to Garand in one of the cyclones of the South Temperate Zone. At Garand, he had changed transportation again. This time he had chartered a private dirigible to take him the final leg to New Holland. The circuitous route was the brainchild of Arvin Taggart. The security chief hoped it would minimize the possibility of Titan being connected to the purchase of protective equipment of the type needed to explore Earth's overheated surface.

Being back on Saturn had been like a tonic for Sands. The twice-a-day rhythm of sunrise and sunset, the steady pull of Saturnian gravity, the familiar sight of Arch and Notch at night, all had rejuvenated him.

Their last night before New Holland, he and the airship captain had shared a bottle of wine on the chartered dirigible's upper observation deck.

At New Holland Sands had made the rounds of companies that manufactured high-pressure environment suits and had quickly discovered his first problem. The heavy-duty environment suits were specialty items. There were only four to be had in the whole city. He needed a dozen. The suit manufacturer explained that he could have eight more built within six months, but quickly changed his estimate when he learned of Sands's credit balance in the local bank. After much haggling over price and delivery, they agreed on a goal of two weeks, with unlimited overtime for the production crews. He sent a coded message to Titania notifying them of the delay, then settled down to await delivery.

By the end of the third day, Sands's cheery mood had all but vanished. He had been growing progressively more despondent. His mood was not improved when the manufacturer informed him there would be a one-week delay in delivering the suits. A necessary pressure fitting was not in stock and would have to be shipped in from halfway around the planet. It was after he returned to his hotel after a long day of cajoling and arguing that Sands realized the underlying cause of his general irritability.

It came as a shock to realize that he was suffering from homesickness! He, who had always prided himself on being rooted to no place or person, was mooning like a teenager. Whenever he'd come down with bouts of melancholy in the past, he always had a simple antidote. In every cloud city, there is a district where companionship may be bought for the price of a few drinks and a reasonable number of credits. Yet, finding a New Hollander joy girl was the last thing Lars wanted. After Kimber, it would be like drinking tepid water following a steady diet of the finest wines.

The realization that he had finally fallen in love gave him as much pause as the thought of going into battle.

Love would interfere with his vow to avenge Dane. Somehow, that did not seem as important as it once had. There was another question to be asked: Was it fair to Kimber to carry on the vendetta? Already it had killed Ross Crandall and very nearly the rest ofSparrowHawk 's crew. What of Garvich, Bailey, or Reese? Were they hunted men aboard Glasgow, or three more victims of his desire to strike back for Dane's death?

The painful truth he was beginning to face was that there had been nothing personal in Dane's death.

Indeed, it had been about as impersonal as one of the big zonal cyclones. The Alliance had shot down the New Philadelphia flagship because they had considered it good tactics. It had been Dane Sands'sbad luck to be aboard at the time. That he had gone to his death in his brother's place had been an unlucky roll of the dice for Dane, but did it obligate Lars to avenge him?

Lars struggled most of the night with his dilemma. He made his decision at First Dawn. He would give up his unholy quest for revenge and build a future with the woman he loved. He would choose life over death!

"Captain says you can inspect your cargo now," one ofNightingale 's crewmen said as he swam past Sands in the zero gravity of the ship. It had only been minutes since the freighter's engines had ceased their growling and the steady pull of acceleration had died away to nothing. The winged spacecraft had climbed above Saturn's atmosphere and was rising upward at a velocity that would take them far beyond the outermost ring.

"Thanks," Sands replied, unbuckling from his acceleration couch. He levered out of his sitting position and rotated his feet to find purchase on the corrugated deck. Aligning himself along the long axis of the compartment, he kicked off to float aft. At the rear bulkhead, he caught himself on outstretched arms, absorbing the shock with bent elbows and tensed biceps.

The cargo hold was two compartments aft. Sands levered open the hatchway that let him into the darkened space beyond. He fumbled for the light control before sending a lengthwise glowtube into luminescence. The compartment was lined on both sides by sarcophagus shaped shipping containers.

Sand had a momentary vision that he had entered one of the fabled pyramids of Egypt. He pulled himself to one of the cases and unhooked the latches that secured the hinged cover. He then pulled the cover open. Inside, cradled in the embrace of a formed cavity, was a New Hollander environment suit.

The suit bore a resemblance to a squat gorilla Sands had once seen in the Hurlberg City Zoo. The helmet was bulbous and mirrored. So too was the surface covering. The torso was made of a hard organic material layered with carefully aligned carbon fibers. The arms and legs of the suit were similarly formed.

Unlike the environment suits he was familiar with, this suit was not pressurized to the level of the outside atmosphere. Rather, it was intended to hold back the pressure. To assist the wearer, the elbow and knee joints contained bulbous power assist mechanisms that responded to signals from thousands of pressure sensors lining the interior. The ankle, hip, and shoulder joints were likewise powered.

The suit's massive backpack was four times larger than any Sands had ever seen. In addition to providing the wearer with a breathing mix of oxygen and helium, it incorporated a massive cooling unit.

The suit would keep its owner comfortable even when submerged in water boiling under the pressure that existed in most cloud cities. It had its limits, of course. Even the outer armor, power-assisted arms and legs, and the massive cooling unit would not protect someone who tried to reach the hydrogen sea.

Still, the suits were more than sufficient protection from the cauldron-like conditions of Earth. They would allow the Titanian expedition to seek the old energy screen laboratory and salvage whatever knowledge had been abandoned there.

Lars worked his way down the row of suits, checking each in turn. All had taken the stresses of launch well, cushioned as they were in their shipping cases. After closing the last sarcophagus, he moved to the other large containers bolted to the freighter's deck.

Although the explorers could conceivably live inside their suits the whole time they were on Earth, no one would look forward to such an ordeal. The old records from the Borman expedition had included a layout of the ancient underground laboratory. They told of a complex that was still structurally sound, protected from the corrosive atmosphere by meters of rock and concrete. The Bormans had conditionedthe laboratory's interior to a shirtsleeve environment while they had explored it.

InNightingale 's hold were two oversize environment conditioners. When the Titanian expedition excavated the old laboratory, they would again take the time to condition the environment. That way, the search for the energy screen data would go more quickly.

Satisfied that his entire cargo had ridden out the launch well, Sands returned to his acceleration couch. It was three days to Titan and he had little to do other than eat, sleep, and play cards with the crew.

Titania Spaceport was as he had left it. The main dome rose toward the orange overcast while spaceport workers hurried to clear a path for the newly arrivedNightingale . In the distance, long slow waves rolled ashore from the sea of methane that bordered the moon's capital city. Flakes of methane snow and complex organics misted the viewport, causing the spaceport lights to break into a million droplets of scintillating color.

A sudden lurch signaled the attachment of the tow cable. As the freighter slowly moved into the bright lights of the debarkation dome, Sands noted that there was already another ship inside. The vessel was a freighter with the stubby wings and large cargo bay of such a vessel. As they pulled alongside, Sands was able to read the nameVixen stenciled across the ship's bow. This then was the ship that would carry the expedition to Earth.

Lars waited impatiently for the airlock to open. The air inside the dome had a metallic taste to it, and was frigid. His breath wreathed his head in exhalation fog as he quickly descended a long stair. He let his eyes scan the concourse beyond the thick glass windows at the edge of the dome. A scattering of pedestrians walked past, seemingly oblivious to the newly arrived ship. Here and there small clusters of people watched the activity in the dome. Lars felt a momentary disappointment when he failed to see Kimber among them.

Disappointment turned suddenly to fear as he asked himself what could have happened to keep her away. Suddenly, visions of disaster flashed through his head -- everything from his beloved wrapped in bandages to her lying dead in some deserted corridor. A sudden movement caught his eye. He turned his head to follow the motion and his fears popped like soap bubbles. There she was, waving wildly as she ran along the concourse toward the debarkation gate.

He stumbled as he rushed up the stair leading to the gate, then burst through into the brightly lighted concourse. Kimber rushed to meet him and the two collided in a sudden flurry of kisses.

"Welcome back, my love!" Kimber said breathlessly when they finally broke their embrace.

"I missed you!" he replied as he thrust her out to arms length to look at her. Her hair was longer than he remembered. Her mouth was set in a wide grin that complemented her sparkling green eyes. She was, he decided, more beautiful than ever. "Did you miss me?"

"Does Saturn have rings? I understand you were successful."

"So were you," he said, gesturing to whereVixen was visible beyond the wall of glass.

She nodded. "Expedition's all organized and ready to go. They're just waiting for your equipment."

"I had a few troubles getting all the suits together."

"So I understand.""Where's your father?"

"Waiting anxiously for you in his office. He did not want to come down to meet you in person. That would have called attention to the fact that someone important was arriving onNightingale . He even asked me to stay away."

"I thought you had."

"Never! The damned spaceport authority had your ship listed for the far end of Dome 3. When I found out the truth, I ran the whole way here."

"And I thought it was my presence that had you all out of breath."

"That, too, my love."

"We've got a lot to talk about."

"Oh?" she asked, one eyebrow arching upwards.

He hurriedly told her of his decision to settle down. She listened quietly, her eyes getting rounder with each passing second. She did not say anything until he had finished.

"Pardon me if I misunderstand, but it sounds as though you are proposing marriage."

He grinned. "I am, if you'll have me."

For a long moment, he thought she was about to refuse. Then she smiled broadly and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him again. This time, he knew it was for keeps.

"May I take that for an affirmative response?"

"You may," she replied. "Come on, let's go find my father so you can deliver your report and we can be alone."

She grabbed his arm and swung him around. Suddenly, her grip tightened. He winced and turned his head to look at her. Her expression was in transition to one of open-mouthed horror. Sands followed her gaze. The main concourse was circular, following as it did the outer periphery of Main Dome. Just coming into view around the curve some fifty meters away was a nondescript man with blond hair.

Kimber had happened to be looking at him as he came into view. She had reacted to him, and upon seeing her reaction, the man's right hand had snaked inside his businessman's tunic.

Sands's privateer honed reflexes took over. There is something about the way someone reaches for a weapon that is unlike any other motion a human being makes. It is not so much a movement of the arm as an action that involves the whole body. As the man's hand reappeared, it had a metallic gleam to it.

Sands pushed Kimber sideways toward a nearby pillar. He then dove forward, seeking the sanctuary of an alcove in which someone had installed a drinking fountain.

He was only halfway to safety when an explosion reverberated the length of the concourse. As though by magic, a shower of sparks flashed from the metal flooring just beyond his outstretched right hand.

Chapter 20: Assassin.

Another shot rang out. The second round careened off the wall a few centimeters over his head, producing a sound that set his teeth on edge. Sands slid the last meter across the metal floor like an ancient baseball player sliding home. He ended his slide in the alcove hugging the wall, with the water fountain's drainpipe jabbing him in the kidneys. A nearby whimper, he realized, had come from his own lips.

Kimber faced him from across the concourse. She lay sprawled where she had landed, her eyes rimmed with white as she gazed in horror at the bright splash of metal on the floor between them. She was sprawled akimbo with body parts sticking out on both sides of the pillar.

"Get down behind that damned thing and stay there! Tuck in those legs!"

She scrambled to comply, and was soon lying on the floor, with her body pointing like the needle of a compass directly away from the unseen gunman. The terror and bewilderment began to go out of her eyes. He gave her a brief smile to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Then his battle-trained reflexes took over.

Sands had once tried to explain the feeling that came over him in combat. He had failed miserably. It was as though his mind had split into a dozen parts, and each was operating on its own. Somewhere near the top of his consciousness he was acutely aware of the fear reaction that had taken control of his body. His heart pounded in his ears, his bowels were tied in a knot, and his limbs threatened to begin shaking uncontrollably. Another part of his mind seemed to be living at a radically accelerated pace. Seconds stretched into minutes and the world moved in slow motion around him. Finally, somewhere deep within his brain, a skilled tactician ignored everything around him and took stock of the situation with a detachment rare even in contemplation.

The tactical situation was bad, but it could have been worse. The corridor was a segment of a circle. He was lying on the inside of the curve, with the wall shielding him from the gunman, who was once again out of sight. He had found additional cover in the shallow setback that kept people who used the drinking fountain from blocking traffic. Finally, the haste of the attack marked it as an impulsive act rather than a planned ambush. Sands suspected that had it been the latter, he would now be dead.

Once the scene was firmly fixed in his mind, Lars considered what he could do to improve matters. The most pressing problem was to determine the assassin's current location. The gunman might have taken cover, or could be running forward at full speed. In the latter case, Sands had only a few more seconds before he came under fire again. He thought of asking Kimber to locate their assailant and immediately pushed the idea from his mind. While he was alive, she would not be sticking her head around that pillar for anything.

Tensing, he propped himself on his left elbow, craned his neck, and quickly stuck his head out from behind the corner of his niche. The assassin had not attempted to take cover. Instead, he moved to the line of pillars and was loping forward in the long, skating motion of a low gravity sprint. His head was up and his eyes scanned continuously from side to side as his weapon waved to menace everyone in front of him. Something about the way he ran convinced Lars he was facing a professional.

The gunman spotted him and snapped off another shot as he ran. The round careened off the paneling that lined the concourse. Sands levered himself erect using one hand, thankful for the low gravity. The fountain scraped his back as he got to his feet. He considered his options, which were few. The curved corridor would offer him some protection if he chose to run in the opposite direction, hugging the inner wall. Yet, if he did so, the gunman would have a clear shot at Kimber as he came abreast of her pillar.

The only other possibility was to attack, and Sands doubted he would take more than two steps out of his cowering place before being shot down.He turned his head and looked over the fountain that had left a permanent impression on his back. It was the standard metal bowl whose design went back centuries. Even as he judged how difficult it would be to tear it off the wall, he knew he would have neither the time nor the cover. Besides, it would make a poor weapon against a man with a gun.

His mind was racing furiously when other shots reverberated through the concourse. He flinched, waiting for the bite of a bullet. It never came. Despite the seeming eternity since the first shot had been fired, in reality, less than fifteen seconds had passed. When there was no angry wasp sound of a near miss, nor the nerve-wracking whine of a ricochet, he looked frantically around. This new firing seemed to be coming from behind him. Sands felt a new fear. Whoever they were, they had him trapped between them.

He caught his breath as he turned his head. Less than ten meters distant, a man and a woman stood in the open, crouched in firing stance with recoilless rocket pistols in their hands. Yet, their weapons were not aimed at Sands. They were aligned with the corridor, aimed in the direction of the unseen gunman. While Sands watched, the two fired again in unison. He hazarded another quick look up the corridor.

The assassin was down. He was still falling while a great geyser of red fountained from his body. He sank to the floor, twitched, and was still. The globular red haze slowly settled around him in the weak Titanian gravity.

The concourse seemed suddenly filled with armed people converging on the downed gunman. Lars recognized two of the agents who had accompanied them on their tour of the mine. He felt himself slump as reaction set in. He bent down with hands on thighs and gasped for air. After a dozen such breaths, he walked unsteadily to where Kimber still crouched behind the pillar.

"Are you all right?"

She got unsteadily to her feet. It was several seconds before she could speak as she fought the globular tears that welled up in her eyes. "I think I am. How about you?"

"Scared out of my wits, but otherwise whole. What was that all about?" He was amazed at how calm the words sounded as they came out. It was almost as though they had been spoken by someone else.

"I don't know," came the hesitant reply. "I noticed that man as he came around the curve in the corridor.

I don't know what caught my eye. I guess it was the way he reacted when he saw you."

"Reacted how?"

She shivered as she remembered. "He seemed to be searching for something as he came into view, then he saw you, Lars! I could see the change in his eyes. They got hard, as though he were a hunter who had stumbled onto his prey. That was when I tensed up. He must have seen me react, because his eyes flicked to me for just an instant and he seemed to come to a decision. That was when he reached for his gun."

"Sloppy of him," Sands remarked. "If he'd just walked on past, he could have shot us both down from behind and we'd never have known what hit us."

She nodded, shuddering at what might have been. "I think he was surprised to see you."

Just then, one of the security people ran up to them. He holstered a weapon as he came.

"Are you all right, Miss Crawford, Captain Sands?""Fine ... now!" Lars replied. "Lucky you people were around."

"No luck to it, Captain. Mr. Taggart assigned us to blanket the spaceport for your arrival. And we've been watching you, Miss Crawford, for the last month."

Kimber nodded. "Those 'other security measures' my father arranged after we left his office that day."

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you were here. Things might have gotten sticky in another few seconds."

"Do you two feel up to looking at the shooter?" the security man asked.

Both of them nodded in unison.

The gunman was not a pretty sight. He had been struck by at least five of the small rockets. One had caught him under the right eye, taking off the back of his head. Kimber grimaced at the sight, but still looked. Lars gazed at the body with open curiosity. Despite his years as a privateer and his battle experience, this was the first time he had seen someone killed up close. It was definitely not the same as watching blips fade from a sensor screen or the small, toy-like aircraft that heeled over and fluttered like leaves toward the hydrogen sea.

"Do you know him, Captain Sands?"

"Never seen him before."

"Miss Crawford?"

Kimber frowned. "I'm not sure. I may have seen him now and then over the past few weeks. It's hard to tell."