Moving along the line the guard stopped at a low-slung framework from which a crude cage hung suspended, held in position by braces angling in from connecting structures. Behind the cage, halfway along a shaft running aft, hung a tiny nuclear power plant. Nozzles of cone-shaped propulsion units on gimbals hung in neutral.

That would change as soon as Zolan inserted his coordinates and activated the thrusters.

"Here she is, sir," the guard exclaimed, proudly, offering Zolan a checklist. "All yours."

"Right," Zolan grunted. Shifting his eyes critically from the checklist to flitter and back, he walked around the tiny flyer inspecting the spars for alignment and cracks. Moving to the power plant he examined the reactor's cover and seals for seepage and the thruster nozzles and gimbals for cracks and wear. Finally, satisfied after scrutinizing the instrument panel, he stepped back, initialed the checklist and handed it to the guard.

"Looks OK on the outside," he said. "I'll check out the warm up. If it cooks OK, I'm out of your way."

He squeezed into the cage, set and activated the reactor. Observing the power levels rise on the gauges, his fingers stroked the flitter's keys and levers. He tapped his coordinates into the nav-comp as the plant warmed.

The guard moved closer.

"Know how to set her? Maybe I can help, sir."

He stuck his head into the crowded s.p.a.ce and watched the computer screen flip through the coordinates that Zolan inserted. The screen stabilized and reflected a series of vectors.

The guard studied them. Zolan ignored him.

Zolan adjusted the torso belts and rechecked the reactor and weight-and-balance indicators.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Well, time to hit the road," he said. "Stand back, man, I'm taking her up."

The guard stepped back and saluted. Zolan moved the power lever and directional controls. The framework and cage quivered and the flitter lifted up and away.

Looking down, Zolan saw the guard bending backward, watching his direction of flight.

"Hope he got them all down right," he thought as he entered new data into the computer.

Chapter TWENTY-SIX

Zolan peered ahead. Reaching the depot's perimeter was less of a problem than he had antic.i.p.ated.

Following a few short stops to surface stations to inspect military tunnels and comm links, and validate the flitter's flight record, he diverted to a depression between Coldfield and the horizon.

Resetting coordinates had taken seconds. Resuming flight, he quickly merged for a short distance with a queue of tugs and taxis along a crowded lane, then veered sharply up toward the Logistics Depot.

Blending his flitter's comm with the flood of electronic signals from nearby tugs and transports at the Gateway, Zolan drew closer to the huge Depot and took shelter in a knot of lashed vessels.

Taking several deep breaths, he fixed his eyes and mind on the depot. Concentrating, he constricted and relaxed his neck and shoulder muscles in an irregular pattern, and repeated the rhythm until it invoked a slight pressure high in his left shoulder.

The stresses energized the short-range sending device implanted in him prior to the Sentinel's escape.

His words, inaudible beyond his voice box, opened contact with the depot's command post.

"Calling Ditch-digger," he intoned. "Ditch-digger, refer to your k-library program file 6756, and respond on Bootstrap."

He repeated the message and waited. It would take time for the comm technician on duty to work it out. The communications staff would scurry about, searching for the program. Restricted to Sentinel, this contact would be its initial activation.

The receiver in his ear whispered, "This is Ditch-digger in Bootstrap. Continue."

"Ditch-digger. Scramble 16."

Zolan hunched and tightened his shoulders to switch channels.

The voice came through. "Done."

"I want to speak with Colonel Hanno."

"One moment, please."

A short pause.

"Hanno."

"This is a Sentinel call. Break the seal on your copy of the Sentinel Support Plan and refer to Annex C, Section 21, line numbers 416 to 422.

Note the encryption structure. I will cite the line in the structure that authenticates my request for support. Waiting."

Minutes pa.s.sed. Breaking the seal on the highest cla.s.sification Sentinel Support Plan was a grave responsibility that Hanno would not take lightly.

He would need to do it in the station's security vault with no witnesses present. The comm center would then need to be cleared of personnel other than Hanno before the exchange could proceed.

Finally, the receiver whispered again.

"I have the lines you refer to. Continue."

"Note how the authenticator is to be stated,"

Zolan said.

He rattled off a sequence of numbers, letters and symbols. Injecting a short, prescribed silence, he spun off another set. The authenticator was in two parts, each requiring its own style for presentation.

"Authenticator confirmed," Hanno said after a pause. "State request?"

"I'm in a flitter near the Gateway," Zolan said.

"Request permission to come aboard and have unattended access to the spunnel transmitter for about five minutes. I will then depart."

"Permission granted. Do you wish an escort from your present position to the dock?"

"Yes, please send an unarmed tug to lead me through the gate, match me up, and point me at the dock. Tug operator and anyone else that observes my presence or the flitter must not repeat must not log the serial number of my flitter or any of its features.

Clear all your people to beyond five meters in all direction from the pa.s.sageways I'll be using, and from the spunnel comm center. I am armed with a hand weapon set for maximum effect without collateral damage to non-organics. My mission requires such precautions. Do you accept these conditions?"

"I accept."

"Noted. Have an unarmed guide at the air lock to precede me to the spunnel console. Instruct him to not speak to me, no questions, and to not interfere in any manner in what I do. When I've completed my work in the comm room the guide is to lead me back to the air lock. The same tug is then to get me through the Gateway, same conditions, and I'll be out of your way. When I'm gone conduct your highest-level UIPS security briefing. This mission is cla.s.sified UIPS Black. Understood?"

"Understood. Ready?"

"Ready. I am moving toward the Gateway and will be there in two minutes. Have your man flash his reds and greens at one-second intervals. I will respond with standard flitter yellows at the same s.p.a.cing.

Over. Out."