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The following day, shortly before eleven-hundred hours, Delgado entered the command post after his daily briefing in Engstrom’s office.
“So, how did they react to your tale?” Hak, ensconced in one of the hard chairs, took a sip from his unending coffee thermos.
“I am looking for an honest man,” Delgado declared in a sonorous tone. “Diogenes.”
“He the guy who used to live in a barrel?”
“So they say, Top. As the story goes, Diogenes wandered through ancient Athens carrying a lamp in broad daylight. When people asked why that’s what he answered.”
“By quoting the old Greek cynic,” Testo said, grinning wryly, “I gather that our three friends did not come out of it smelling like roses, Skipper.”
“Yeah. When I finished, Engstrom looked like he’d seen a ghost, Movane didn’t react in any way, which is even more noteworthy, and our good pal Limix became vehement in his indignation.”
“I think thou dost protest too much. I can’t remember who said that. So even Limix shone like pyrite.”
“Oh, did he ever. Can we stop the quotation festival for a while and talk seriously?” Delgado looked at the sergeants, Kuzek included, eyebrows raised.
“You started, sir,” Testo replied with an air of wholly feigned innocence.
“My privilege,” he replied, pointing to his rank insignia. “Where do we stand with our investigation and the other business?”
“We nearly completed the job of tapping into Tyrell’s systems,” Testo replied. “A few more days, and we’ll enjoy complete access to the station’s primary nodes. It doesn’t mean we’ll be able to do everything we want undetected but close enough. We hit a wall on the Evans side of things, though. Whoever set up her unauthorized access to various areas didn’t leave any traces. I’m getting the sneaking suspicion that there’s a little virus at work, erasing every clue the moment we’re within detection range. We just about completed the survey of Shafts Two and Three. Nothing to report and no discrepancies between reality and the blueprints.
“Moses Singh and One-Two-Charlie will head down today and check out what’s behind the rockslide Osmin Sberna and Carlo Torres found on Level Sixteen. Rolf Painter and his people are still checking out Evans’ associates. Apart from Movane, she was friendly with a team boss called,” Testo glanced at his workstation’s display, “Jannika Hallikonnoen. Rolf will follow up on her.”
“Okay,” Delgado nodded. “You can stop chasing Evans’ computer ghosts. When you’re not busy hiding Moses Singh’s moves, start working on the changes I want to the primary command-and-control files.”
He placed a microchip on the table.
“Your defense plan, Skipper?”
“A few notions I came up with last night, nothing more. Whoever will try to seize the warhead stockpile might well do it by paralyzing Tyrell from the inside, and you can’t plan properly against an enemy in your midst. We can only make sure we find out as soon as they act or, better yet, get a short warning period if we're lucky. And of course, make sure nobody can catch us with our pants around our ankles by using the base’s main computer core.”
Testo nodded thoughtfully. “If I come up with any more ideas...”
“Please feel free, Sergeant. Top,” Delgado continued, turning toward Hak, “prepare a few discreet planning and preparation sessions for the troops.”
“Ship defense?”
“Yeah. Being on the other end of the stick will be a bit of a change for everyone.”
“Understood, sir.” Hak nodded.
“If there’s nothing else...?”
They shook their heads.
“Then let’s do it. I’ll be in my quarters, dreaming up a few more notions. Oh, that’s right.” Delgado snapped his fingers, remembering something. “When’s the next ship from Assenari due?”
“In four days,” Testo replied, glancing at his workstation again. “Why?”
Delgado grinned. “Think about it. We figure the opposition might already have a spy in place, perhaps even two. But I doubt a full saboteur team is sitting around, just waiting to be caught by smart Marines like us.”
Metellus Testo’s face lit up with a broad smile.
“But of course. The replacement workers. If you’re right, Skipper, then our window of greatest danger is in the day or two after the Assenari ship leaves. That doesn’t leave us much time to prepare. Not if we don’t want the resident tangos to figure out that we’ve figured out.”
“Right. We need something that’ll divert attention from our actual activities.”
“Maskirovka,” Hak grumbled, chin against his chest. “What are you thinking, sir?”
“A little witch hunt? I’ve already sown the seeds this morning. All that’s left is watering the soil.”
**
“The Marines figure Evans was involved in some drug thing, and her death might be suspicious?”
“Yeah, that’s right. But I think Delgado just wants us to believe that. I’m sure the bastard was lying through his teeth. He’s pulling a con. You wouldn’t know anything about Evans’ death, though, would you? I mean, you wrapped Lyle Fournier and his morons around your little finger, right?”
Hallikonnoen’s eyes glittered dangerously as she looked at her informant. She thought she’d compartmentalized her help, but if he found out about Fournier, then so be it. There was nothing she could do now. Evans’ unexpected death was a sore point. Hallikonnoen had not planned on killing her until she was no longer useful. Now she needed alternatives.
“I may not know how Evans died, but I will know everything about your death if you don’t watch your step.”
He raised his hands, palms facing outward. “Hey, we’re on the same side.”
Her face tightened briefly with contempt. He was nothing more than a tool, but a useful one and should be treated with care until he was no longer required.
“We are,” she replied. “See if you can find out more. I don’t believe Delgado and his people are incompetent. On the contrary. I’m worried they picked up something. The sergeants playing detective seem much too clever to be blundering around like amateurs. And before I forget, with Evans gone, you’ll be ensuring I can still access the main computer core.”
“Sure, but just don’t expect to mess with the classified data banks or the programming. There’s only so much I can do. The security protocols are not only code but terminal sensitive.”
“Then you’ll obtain what I want from the secure areas.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not a technical genius. In any case, I hope I can count on the generosity of your employers to pay a little extra for more hazardous duties.”
Hallikonnoen answered with a noncommittal grunt. In her chosen field, she was as much a professional as the Marines were in theirs, and not only despised people who sold out for money, helpful as they were, but had a healthy respect for Delgado and his troopers. Too bad she had no time to cultivate another tool as backup for the greedy fool in front of her. Still, how much could the Marines do, even if they found out? Tyrell was a big place, and they were few. No, the plan could not fail.
She shrugged off her worries, and without another word, left her informant sitting in the booth. It was high time she set a few distractions loose among the unsuspecting and did something about Fournier, who’d become a liability now that the informant knew about him.
**
Engstrom, Limix, and Movane ate in silence, the ripples of Delgado’s revelations that morning still roiling their thoughts. Movane was the first to finish and sit back. She stared at Engstrom with her usual sour expression.
“Delgado’s hiding something, Nero. Use those stripes on your collar and make him answer.”
Limix grunted in agreement as he chewed on a mouthful of hydroponics-grown lettuce.
Engstrom finished his last piece and carefully placed his fork on the empty plate.
“He won’t talk to me, Romana. You saw for yourself that he doesn’t trust either of us,”
“Why don’t you tap into his security network,” Limix said around another mouthful. “That way, you can keep track of what he’s doing.”
Movane nodded. “Ed’s right. For the safety of Tyrell, we should use every means available to keep tabs on that loose cannon. Set it up properly and you can override any protection he’s using. If you’re really careful, you can even prevent him from knowing about it. And as you once mentioned, information systems are not only your specialty but your hobby.”
“And if he finds out?”
“Tell him he should jump in a black hole.”
“Oh, alright,” Engstrom replied with a frown of irritation. “I suppose you’ll want copies of what I find?”
“Don’t we always run this place as a team?” Movane asked, smirking, convinced Nero Engstrom would be happy to share responsibility for the act. The man’s weaknesses came in handy at times.
“Sure, a team.” He didn’t sound convinced, but Movane knew he’d do it.
**
That evening, while Sergeant Singh and his section were in the abandoned tunnel off Gallery B, Level Sixteen, this time carrying excavation gear, Curtis Delgado was contemplating ideas to bolster his control over Tyrell. A knock on the office cubicle’s door frame broke through his meditative state, and he looked up as Sergeant First Class Metellus Testo poked his head through the opening.
“Got a moment, Skipper?”
“I have nothing but moments, Sergeant. What’s up?” Delgado gestured at the much-abused chair fronting his desk.
“Two interesting bits of news,” Testo said once he was seated. “First, despite your orders to the contrary, one of our three luminaries upstairs spoke out of turn. The whole base is abuzz with rumors of drug smuggling and murder. To use an old cliché, the cat is among the pigeons.”
“Even if it doesn’t tell us much about the troika’s loyalties, it confirms that one of them at least cannot be trusted. Good, it’ll make our witch hunt deception that much more plausible. Next?”
“We picked up a peeping tom.”
Delgado sat up and frowned. “Pardon?”
“Someone’s trying to tap into our computer node.” As Delgado made to speak, Testo raised his right hand, palm facing outward. “Carl Kuzek’s already on it, Skipper. The sensitive stuff has been moved to a node not connected with the station’s net and is now being replaced with plausible garbage. Whoever it is hasn’t breached the first level of safeguards yet. And no, we can’t tell where it’s coming from yet, except that our hacker is skilled. We won’t be able to run a trace until we put the deception data in place. Offhand I’d say you did a good job spooking the station’s top brass.”
Delgado sat back and smiled.
“You know, this is a golden opportunity to feed the opposition choice bits of crap so we can trap them. In the immortal words of Sun Tzu, all warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must be seen unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive...”
“When we are near,” Testo continued, “We must make the enemy believe we are far away, and such good stuff. Definitely an opportunity, Skipper.”
“Did I just hear Metellus quote the Master?” Hak asked, stepping into Delgado’s office.
Testo gestured at his commanding officer. “Don’t look at me, Top. He started it.”
“The highest form of generalship is to balk the enemy’s plans,” Delgado intoned sententiously. “We’ve cast bread upon the waters, and a fish has risen to feed. The good sergeant and I were discussing what kind of net we should use.”
Hak rubbed his hands gleefully and sat on the remaining chair, an expectant air on his seamed face. “So where do we start, sir?”