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him. Even though he was walking slowly, he was still panting. Crump. Crump. The muffled concussion shook the tunnel, hard enough to make him stagger, but he continued to move forward toward the exit portal. Crump. Reaching out with his right hand and touching the smooth p!asteel of the wall, he steadied himself, then plodded upward. Whhhirrr. Crump! The tunnel no longer seemed to stretch forever, but only a few yards toward a round black doorway of some sort. He stopped and took two deep breaths. Crump! The floor beneath vibrated, and he lurched forward. Finally his right hand touched cold metal, and he halted, trying to catch his breath, hoping that the wrenching cramps in his calves would ease. He waited, wondering if the explosions would continue. Crump! He began to spin the wheel, watching carefully through the ever widening slit, and listening. Page 183 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Stepping into a moldy cellar, he frowned as he looked up to discover that just the foundation remained of whatever structure had once stood above him. Then he glanced back at the still open portal, which was beginning to close itself, to see how the vines had been planted to conceal the relative newness of the tunnel exit. There was no exterior wheel to open the portal, and the exposed portal looked no different from the rest of the weathered foundation. Rodire dragged himself toward the overgrown ramp that led to the ground level of the forest. Wheeeeeee. At the sound of the eastbound flitter, he ducked, then straightened. No one, assuming they could scan under the old and gnarled trees that covered this end of Corso's lands, was going to bother with a tired old man on foot. Once out of the foundation, Rodire could see enough through the wide-spaced and massive trunks to get his bearings. His own lands lay less than a half a kilo ahead. He limped forward. Wheeeeee! Crump! Rodire shook his head. The security forces were late. Everyone was always late. He'd been late. Corso had been late, and now the remainder of the DomSecs were late, as if more force could undo what had already been done. He shrugged as he plodded toward the immaculate white, stone wall that marked his estate. He could see Eduard and some of the staff standing higher on the upper lawn peering toward the column of smoke behind him where he knew the Hitters were still circling. He supposed he had some work to do. He shrugged again. Not doing it wouldn't bring back Lisa. If Corso didn't like the way he ran CE, then Corso could have it any way he wanted. Rodire wouldn't block him. Carlina had, and what was left? He refused to think about what might happen if the terrible Shaik were thwarted a second time. "You will suffer . . ." That had been clear. Rodire sighed. No walls and fortresses for him. He might survive, and he might not, but one experience in watching Corso had been enough. One trip through hidden tunnels had been enough. And one daughter lost because he had not done what he had promised to a stranger was quite enough. Quite enough. Corso might be the devil himself, but he kept his word. Both ways. And few enough did that. The trees thinned as he neared the white, stone wall. Eduard caught sight of his father and began running down to the wall. Rodire smiled at the sight of the long-legged teenager covering the bluish grass more in leaps than in strides. Page 184 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html He waved, and his son waved back. LXXI AS RODIRE STUMBLED down the ramp, Gerswin launched himself at the control couch, throwing the harness straps around himself even before he settled fully into position. "Retract power connections." "Power connections retracted." "Retract ramp, and seal for liftoff." "Ramp has been retracted, and locks are sealed. Ship is fully selfcontained." "Interrogative power status." "Power status is point nine nine plus." As he spoke to the Al, Gerswin tapped out the Omega code on the comm link to the nerve center of the facility he was about to leave. Shortly, hopefully well after he had lifted clear, the inside of the hangar bunker would self-immolate in a raging inferno, leaving no trace of its history or recent usage. With the DomSecs likely to pinpoint his base of operations . . . he shook his head. Nothing had gone exactly as planned. Nowùanother perfectly good retreat, another perfectly good source of revenue, both lost. Lost because . . . He could dwell on that later, assuming there was a later. His eyes scanned the data and representational screens, checking the reported positions and projected search patterns of the approaching DornSec flitters. His fingers continued through the liftoff checks as he studied the screens and as he spoke again. "Get the DomSecs on audio. Local tactical." "Local tactical on audio," the AI repeated without inflection. A hissing began as the Al tried to raise the signals to audibility without the direct link to the facility antenna array. "Fareach two . . . negative on energy flows . . ." ". . . port, three zero. Vector two six zero . . ." ". . . Thunder three. Say again . . . three . . ." ". . . casualties estimated at three zero thousand . . . three zero thousand . . ." The man in the counterfeit Lidoran DomSec uniform tightened his lips, wiped his damp forehead, and touched the control keys once more, watching the screens to ensure that the departure gates were fully retracted and clear of obstructions. "Target contact, Beta class flitter, at ten kays, bearing zero eight Page 185 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html zero," the Al's cool voice interjected, overriding the Lidoran transmissions momentarily. "Thanks." Gerswin's fingers touched the last key on the board prior to the liftoff sequence, and the whining that signified full power-up began to build. "Going to be a full power lift," he remarked to no one in particular. "Acknowledging full power lift," the Al answered his remark that needed no answering. The Caroljoy edged from the center of the hangar into position before the tunnel. Whhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeee! The scout slipped up the tunnel and burst through the carefully maintained gap in the trees, a black streak screaming like lightning back toward the heavens from which it had struck . ". . . target at two six five. Target at two six five . . . tentatively identified as deep space craft." "Gnasher two, cleared to attack. Cleared to attack." [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] |