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“Show me exactly where you saw that possible contact, Sergeant.” Delgado glanced at Sberna. “This may be a thoroughly unfamiliar environment for us, but you’re a trained observer. If you think you saw something, then you did. Maybe not a human being, perhaps not anything living, but you saw something that wasn’t supposed to be there.”
A holographic projection of Level Sixteen hovered over the command post’s map table, and Sberna pointed out where he and Torres were when he saw the shadowy movement at the mouth of the abandoned gallery.
Along with Sergeant First Class Testo, Delgado had led him through a full accounting of his movements, from the moment they left the barracks until they returned, tracing every step of the way on the schematic maps projected by the computer. Each fire team provided such a report upon returning, and usually, Testo debriefed them on his own. Still, because Sberna reported a possible contact, the operations sergeant figured Delgado should hear about it in person.
“Movement attracts the eye, sir,” Testo said, “even at that distance. Since there’s no atmosphere and therefore no air currents to generate random activity, it was either a dislodged rock that caught Osmin’s attention or an unauthorized human.”
First Sergeant Hak patted Sberna on the shoulder. “And he’s not known for seeing things that aren’t there, Skipper.”
“Right.” Delgado climbed to his feet. “Spread the word that I want to hear about any other ghosts in the galleries, even if our people figure they’re figments of the imagination. Sometimes, those figments are hiding distinctly human activities, the sort we ought to know about.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Delgado gave Sberna a nod. “Thanks, Sergeant. You can head for the barracks now.”
“Sir.” He briefly came to attention, then pivoted on his heels and walked out.
Delgado, Testo, and Hak turned their eyes back on the holographic projection.
“Any chance Osmin might be seeing things because of nerves?” Delgado asked. “Thirty-five-hundred meters below ground, no atmosphere, and an unfamiliar environment can make even the least imaginative of us nervous.”
Hak nodded. “True, but I stand by what I said. Osmin has solid nerves. Could it be an optical illusion? Sure. But since we’re here for a reason and know the opposition could have its own people in Tyrell already, I figure we should take it as real until proved otherwise.”
Testo made a grimace. “But why would someone be screwing around that deep? And how did they bypass the safeguards that ensure only those with business there enter the galleries?”
The first sergeant snorted with amusement. “Friends in the right places, just like us. Do you think the chief administrator’s office will see the names of our people in the daily log?”
Testo shook his head. “No. Whoever Limix enlisted in the cause will make sure they’re wiped once they pass the surface checkpoint on their way back to the barracks.”
Delgado, who’d been leaning against a workstation, pushed himself upright.
“So, there could be a lot more happening in the mine than what’s recorded.”
“Without a doubt, Skipper. We went in despite the chief administrator, who’d have heard of it by now if the security logs weren’t being doctored. Why not others.”
“But why?” Delgado tapped his fingertips on his chin as he frowned. “What could be happening in the deepest pits of Hades?”
“Seems like a strange place for the sort of illegal stuff common on outposts like Tyrell.” Hak shrugged. “Smuggling?”
“Let’s allow a few shifts to pass so we can see if our folks encounter more ghosts in any of the galleries on any level. If they don’t, we can send a properly equipped patrol into that abandoned tunnel Osmin mentioned.”
“Which might become interesting, sir,” Sergeant Testo said. “The maps of Level Sixteen reveal a few minor gaps, Osmin’s tunnel included.”
Delgado cocked an eyebrow at the operations noncom. “Such as?”
“Details on the abandoned galleries. It could be a fluke or sloppy record-keeping or computer core degradation, but the Level Sixteen maps are the only ones with missing information on the abandoned areas.”
“Are we talking just one or two galleries here?”
“No, all of them have something missing. It’s like someone is covering their tracks by spreading the blanks around.”
“When can we plausibly schedule another patrol of Level Sixteen?”
Testo called up the patrol plan on his console.
“Not for six or seven days, sir. We still have the galleries in Shafts Two and Three before we can give Shaft One a return visit without attracting attention.”
Delgado stroked his chin while Hak and Testo watched him think. The Erinyes had been tossed in here with very little information beyond the fact that their job was ensuring no one absconded with the Second Migration War-era munitions before the Fleet could organize an orderly and highly secret retrieval.
Sberna’s sighting and Testo’s discovery of faulty maps were the first unusual occurrences, even though they probably bore no relation to the potential outside threats identified by Naval Intelligence. Still, he didn’t like the idea of something unknown occurring on his watch. After all, Erinye Company was responsible for the station’s security, notwithstanding the core mission. If someone was using the lower galleries for illegal activities, he should stop them.
Delgado turned to Hak.
“Or you and I could visit the galleries, starting with Shaft One, Level Sixteen, Top. We’ll take our wingers and go an hour or two after the shift change, under the excuse that we should also be familiar with the environment. I’ll let Ed Limix know.”
“No, sir. Bad idea. That’s a job for sharp-eyed youngsters, the sort who already went underground and know what’s what.”
Delgado was about to reply when the command post’s communicator chimed. Testo reached over and touched the screen.
“Station security office, Sergeant Testo speaking.”
“This is Captain Engstrom, Sergeant. I need to speak with Major Delgado.”
Testo stepped aside, and Delgado took his place.
“I’m here, sir. How can I help you?”
“I understand that contrary to my orders, your people are wandering through the mine galleries.” Engstrom was trying for a severe expression and tone, but it didn’t quite work, at least in Delgado’s opinion. “What do you say about that?”
His quick sideways glance betrayed the presence of another person in his office, probably Chief Administrator Movane.
“Sir, as far as I recall, you said that I shouldn’t go underground, not that I couldn’t.”
“As I recall, Chief Administrator Movane forbade you from entering the mine.”
“Sir, with due respect, Administrator Movane has no authority over the station’s security complement. I’m answerable solely to you.”
“Major, you’re skirting rather close to the line between argument and insolence. Chief Administrator Movane runs the mining operation. Tell me, are you one of those bloody guardhouse lawyers? Should I record everything I tell you?”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir. We are doing this in the best interests of Tyrell Station. My duty is ensuring its safety and the only way we can do that is by reconnoitering every nook and cranny, the mine included.”
Engstrom turned his head to one side again, but this time it was more than just a glance. His mouth moved, but no sound came through, proof he was conferring with Movane. He turned back toward the video pickup and restored the sound.
“Major Delgado, you will desist from your reconnaissance of the underground shafts and galleries. Stay out of them. They’re no place for inexperienced tourists.”
“Sir, we’ve already almost completed our reconnaissance of Shaft One. The miners kindly briefed us on the safety rules and procedures, which we followed to the letter. They also guided my people during their first descent, and we’ve not interfered with production. Furthermore, we are highly experienced operating in an airless environment, more so than the average miners on their first tour. Since we’ve already done close to one-third of the mine proper, I suggest it would be more profitable if we finish. I can live with a one-time visit of the active galleries.”
“Oh, you can live with it, can you, Major? You assume a lot, especially for someone who’s only been here a few days.”
The sarcasm was forced, unconvincing. Delgado suddenly formed the idea Engstrom was uncomfortable about something.
“Sir, I’m here for a specific job, and that’s keeping Tyrell safe from all threats, internal and external.” He held Engstrom’s eyes and let his words hang between them for a few heartbeats. “If you prevent me from carrying out my duties, I have no choice but to inform Fleet HQ.”
Delgado hoped Engstrom would understand his unit wasn’t just another Marine company on a routine tour of duty but realize their arrival was connected with the recon droid’s classified discovery. A distinct air of hesitation crossed Engstrom’s face, perhaps at the mention of Fleet HQ rather than Delgado’s putative superiors in the 42nd, and the Marine pressed his advantage.
“Captain, just let me finish Shafts Two and Three, and I won’t need to go underground again except in case of an issue involving Tyrell’s security.” Delgado put on a wholly feigned, albeit vague, air of embarrassment, determined to lay it on thick. “To tell you the truth, sir, my Marines prefer wider spaces and don’t necessarily enjoy going into the mine. Therefore, I’m as anxious as anyone to finish our reconnaissance. I’d rather spend the rest of my tour above ground.”
Engstrom’s eyes took on a wary expression, and he studied Delgado, who fought to keep his face guileless as he stared back.
“You say you’ve already finished Shaft One?”
“Almost, sir.”
Again, the burly naval officer cut the sound and turned to his unseen partner. This time, the conversation was longer. Finally, Engstrom came back on.
“Major Delgado, as long as your troops obey the safety regulations and do not interfere with mining operations, you may complete your recce. Once you’ve done Shafts Two and Three, your unit will stay above ground. I hope that’s understood. I don’t want any further dubious interpretations of my orders. Advise me when you’re done. Engstrom out.”
The screen went black.
Testo let out a low whistle. “Skipper, I think that naval gent appears concerned about Shaft One.”
Delgado nodded, smiling.
“That was my impression as well. I hope Captain Engstrom doesn’t play poker because he'll lose with a face like that. You will note he did not specifically forbid us from revisiting Shaft One while we’re walking the other two. What’s not specifically forbidden is permitted, right Top?”
“That’s how I understand it, sir, and I’m sure Colonel Decker would wholeheartedly agree.”
“If I were a betting man, I’d say that once Engstrom found out we already did Shaft One without reporting strange occurrences, he saw no reason to keep us away. Or he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen, and he’s just deliberately pointed us at Shaft One so he could hide something else.”
“Engstrom doesn’t seem like a subtle enough guy for that,” Hak said. “So, what’s he hiding?”
“The Almighty knows, Top, but I’d re-phrase your question: what are Engstrom and Movane hiding? I wouldn’t be surprised if they both harbored secrets they’d rather we didn’t uncover, but I just can’t see them engaged in something sordid, like smuggling or drug running. Movane may be an uncomfortable customer, but she’s got an honest reputation.”
“A bonus mystery?”
Delgado shrugged.
“Perhaps. Considering the Migration War bunker isn’t anywhere near Shaft One, Level Sixteen, it’s the only thing I can figure.”