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Dione guessed what he felt not a hard job, after seeing his expression.
It was clear that Cranston's suspicions had begun to center on her. The
understanding and trust they had enjoyed had dissolved. With an attempted
killing in space she could readily comprehend scrapping personal feelings.
Still that didn't ease her anger.
Dione flushed. "Keith, I have as much interest in this mission as you.
More even. My father is out there," she said, flinging out an arm toward a
port screen.
The logic made sense. Yet the mystery surrounding Dione and her father was an
unknown factor that irritated
Cranston. Dione, he admitted, was an unlikely informer. Still, whatever she
and her father were doing, it could be the key to their troubles. Not knowing
one way or the other was an exasperating irritant.
"Just what was your project?" Cranston demanded, curbing his anger.
He saw she was under a strain. Yet, with his ship and crew in danger,
nothing else mattered.
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She shook her head wearily. "I can't say. Not yet. I promised
Commander Ulmstead." Her hands tensed and the knuckles grew white.
"Commander Ulmstead didn't know we'd be attacked in space or that someone knew
where we'd be. That changes the situation."
"Not enough," Dione answered. Her face showed the strong tugs of conflicting
loyalties.
"They know practically every move we make," Cranston said, his voice rising.
"What you know might explain how."
"The project involved something critical to the settlement of the
Galaxy, something maybe even more important than the hyperspace drive.
But that's all I can say."
Cranston gave up. Bullying a woman wasn't in character. She was stubborn, all
right, he sighed. Even through his annoyance he felt his admiration climb a
notch higher.
Communications with Commander Ulmstead were impossible. They were now one
hundred light-years from Earth. Messages sent by radio or lasebeam still
plodded along at the speed of light the fastest speed possible in normal
space. Any communications he sent would take one hundred years to arrive.
Typically, a starship that wanted to forward a message found a ship in its
vicinity, one that was about to hyperspace home. The sister ship would then
relay the message.
Slow, cumbersome, and chancy. And right now, without a starship in the
vicinity, Cranston had no way of getting to Ulmstead. Whatever
Dione's secret, it would remain just that.
"If you change your mind let me know," Cranston said more curtly than he
really wanted.
"Keith, really& it's all up to Comman "
Cranston stalked angrily from the cabin, seething both at Dione and
himself. In any case, preparations had to be made for the coming landing.
* * *
The outpost was on a small but dense planet, with gravity and atmosphere
comparable to Earth's, and lush vegetation on huge land masses surrounded by
fresh water. It appeared, now, on the telescreen, in close focus.
"Sensor report," Cranston requested. The planet had large lakelike bodies of
water instead of tidal seas. It was a certain candidate for eventual
settlement, but still too far afield in this sector of the Nether
Quadrant. There were many similar planets closer to Earth that still weren't
occupied.
"No automatic beam, Cap," Baldy reported. "We've probed but it's a dead
response." Typically an outpost or settlement had a homing signal aimed
skyward at all times, a navigation aid for approaching starships.
This one was silent. A bad omen.
"Baldy, you stay aboard this trip. Gor will come along. Crewmen too.
Tell Miss Clarke to get ready," Cranston said.
Baldy gave a quick, surprised look at Cranston's formality, then left the
control room. Gor, at the ship's orbit controls, said nothing, his face an
imperturbable mask.
Under Gor's manipulations, Draco II
eased into a gentle parking orbit, its engines shut down to a barely thrusting
idle. Baldy came back to the control room to plot coordinates for the landing.
Only one problem remained.
Locating the outpost.
Without either radio or lasebeam beacons it was difficult to pinpoint its [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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