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Moses Singh was nothing if not a methodical man, a trait he shared with most in Ghost Squadron who routinely faced extreme danger. As per Major Delgado’s orders, he took his section back to the rockslide, and they re-examined every square centimeter of the tunnel beyond it.
By the time they reached the blank wall, Singh felt almost ready to admit there was no mystery. Not even a little one. But he put his people to work scanning the abrupt dead end with the larger crew-served sensor package, nonetheless. After a few minutes, Corporal Raldy Rezal pointed out the apparent discrepancy.
“Sarge, this wall here doesn’t look like a mining mole touched it. Otherwise, there’d be a deep dimple in the middle. Moles have pointed snouts, as I remember from our orientation visit.”
“Right.” Singh drew out the word. “Could be they used lasers or plasma borers.”
“Nope. Check the floor, walls, and ceiling around the dead end. They’re smooth. Mole smooth, just like we saw in the active galleries. That, as they say, is impossible. The mole’s snout is a meter long. Therefore, the smooth sides should stop at least a meter from this wall.” He tapped the dead end for emphasis.
“When you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, has to be the truth,” Lance Corporal Hobart Lee intoned. “Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps this wall is a blind, Sarge.”
Singh gave the short, squat Marine a look of surprise.
“How is it you can quote ancient English philosophers, H. L?”
“Because I read the classics and not just modern trash, Sarge?” Lee retorted, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “But seriously, why don’t we try picking at this wall. A bit of laser, a bit of plasma...”
“And then we’ll find an old English philosopher on the other side. Okay, Rezal, Maiikonnen and Drake, let’s go.”
A few minutes later, Raldy Rezal swore as he shut off the laser borer. “By the Almighty, this is impossible. I may not be a geologist, but it isn’t granite, even if it looks and scans like granite.”
“But there’s no denying it absorbs the laser beam as if it were a giant heat sink.”
“Let’s try a shaped charge,” Lee proposed.
Singh shook his head. “We don’t know the condition of the rock around here. Using explosives could bring the roof on our heads.”
“I guess that rules out the portable rocket launcher. Sad.”
Singh gave Lee an exasperated glare. “Your fascination with blowing things up always worries me.”
“Hey, Colonel Decker enjoys solving problems with high explosives, which means I’m in good company.”
“Can anyone come up with better ideas?”
Rezal said, “Nope. But if the wall absorbs a steady stream of energy, maybe it’ll choke on a concentrated burst.”
“Ah, yes,” Singh nodded and pulled his blaster out of its holster. “Here it goes.”
He snapped off a shot at the center of the wall. To the amazement of the watching Marines, the round vanished into the rock. It didn’t splash or create a hole but simply sailed right through.
“By the Infinite Void,” Singh said, “if I were a betting man, I’d wager we’re looking at the best hologram I’ve ever seen.”
“How about a holographic projection covering a force field, Sarge?” Raldy Rezal suggested. “Force fields stop matter but absorb energy, like the ones they use to keep the air in when opening space doors.”
“Except they let spacecraft through.”
“Yep. Countervailing energy emissions on spacecraft hulls along with slow velocity crossing the field.”
Singh contemplated his winger for a moment. “So how do we create a countervailing field on our tin suits? They’re built to be stealthy, not to emit.”
“How about we collapse the field?” Lance Corporal Drake said. “It surely has a limit on how much energy it can absorb in a short time before the emitter shuts off. I’m going to guess this thing here isn’t equipped with a failsafe like space door emitters either.”
“You’re suggesting we simply open fire on this?” Singh gestured at the blank wall.
“It’s gotta be worth a try. But from a distance, I’d say, Sarge.”
When Singh seemed to hesitate, Rezal said, “If we bring this idea to the Skipper, he’ll tell us to try. Might as well save ourselves a trip and just do it.”
“Okay. Let’s back up thirty meters and give it a few volleys dead center.”
Singh and his Marines withdrew and, at his command, adopted firing positions.
“Aim.” Six red dots appeared on the wall and quickly merged into one. “Fire.”
Plasma rounds lit up the tunnel as bright as day.
“I swear I saw a shimmer, Sarge.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s try this again. Five rounds, rapid fire. Aim. Fire.” A pause. “Another five rounds, fast as you can. Aim. Fire.”
As soon as the flare of light from the plasma volleys died away, Rezal let out a whoop.
“It’s flickering and sparking.”
Singh aimed again and squeezed off two quick shots on his own, and the seemingly impossible wall vanished. He stood and slung his carbine.
“Shall we go see what was behind illusion number one?”
When they reached the spot where the fake obstruction used to be, they found nothing more than a pair of emitters bolted to the walls on either side, both connected to a black power cord that vanished into the darkness beyond.
“Whatever kept the illusion up is at the end of that power cord, Sarge.” Drake took a few steps deeper into the tunnel.
“Still master of the obvious, eh.” Singh pointed at Maiikonnen and Lee. “You two stay here and take intensive scans of the emitters. The rest, with me.”
“Roger that, Sarge.”
They didn’t go far. A few meters beyond the bend, they encountered an armored door, one with a coded lock. The cord ended at a blank rock wall beside the door. Singh shook his head, exasperated at the feeling of wandering through a holographic role-playing game.
He scanned the door, scrutinized its lock, then turned his section around to head for home. The major would decide on the next steps. Weird was no longer the operative word around here. They’d gone well beyond that.
**
“I don’t like this, Lyle. The Marines are about to grab us by the short and curlies.” Harry Zbotnicky and his pal Joey looked like a pair of anxious rabbits, cowering in the dark corners of the booth.
Around them, the Reach lived and breathed as usual, except for anxious, angry, or self-righteous mutterings about the Marines’ upcoming crackdown on smugglers, something that seemed to attack the very freedoms miners considered as their sacred right. Especially the freedom from random searches, even if they weren’t hands-on.
“Shut up and let me think, Harry.”
For all his bluster, Lyle Fournier was a worried man. If the Marines caught him red-handed, guys like Ed Limix would make sure he never worked again. The Marines supposedly used battlefield sensors that could spot camouflaged enemy troops from hundreds of meters away, which meant they could sniff a stash from up close without a problem.
But in an airless environment, perhaps not so much. As far as Fournier could tell, police sensors relied on airborne particles to detect banned substances. Did their sensors also rely on airborne particles? Jannika should be able to tell him. She knew things no honest miner should. If he was lucky, she might even help. They’d done enough jobs for her lately.
“Wait here and don’t move,” Lyle growled at his two companions. He left the booth to search for Hallikonnoen, and it didn’t take him long to spot her.
“Hey Jannika, how’s it been?” Lyle grinned as he approached her table.
“What do you want, Fournier? I told you I make contact, not the other way around.”
Her harsh tone and angry glare stopped Fournier dead in his tracks. After a moment, he closed the remaining distance and leaned over so he could speak without being overheard.
“It’s this Marine drug search thing. Me and the boys are still holding, and we’ll be getting more on the next ship. I was figuring you’d know a thing or two.”
Hallikonnoen fought her antipathy for the smuggler and tried to give him an attentive ear. She’d planned on using him as bait for Delgado’s troopers but remained undecided on how at the moment. However, Fournier might unwittingly give her ideas. She motioned for him to sit and speak.
“Okay, we agree the Marines’ battlefield sensors are top-notch. Are they good enough to sniff out well-packed merchandise from a distance?” Fournier asked, peering around the room.
“Yeah. They can detect minute concentrations that would escape the best genetically enhanced police dog — if they program them to search for something in particular. There are limitations, but essentially, that’s it.”
“Meaning if I hid my stash underground, where there’s no air, they can’t find it, right?”
Hallikonnoen nodded, a sudden idea nearly making her smile. She gave Lyle a calculating glance.
“Right. And I think I figured a way of helping you with that.”
“Really? I appreciate it, Jannika. If there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word. When shall I bring you our remaining inventory?”