“Let me see,” muttered Graves, looking at his own handheld. “One three nine thirty-five.”
“ ‘Ilmataran swimming place not-moving’ is how my computer translates it. I wouldn’t know what that meant if you said it in English.”
“I think immobility includes the concept of death.”
“It is still nonsense,” said Alicia. “In both senses of the word. Would you follow an alien into battle if they were speaking words without meaning?”
Graves was silent for a moment. “All right,” he said at last. “You’ve made your point, both of you. Bugger. We’ll have to do this alone.”
Twenty-eight hours later, Rob and Dickie Graves swam toward Hitode Station from the south, pushing off from rock to rock in order to avoid making recognizable swimming noises. They kept a secure laser link open, and were using bags to capture the hydrogen bubbles from their APOS packs.
Somewhere far to the north, Josef and Alicia were creeping closer to the station in the sub, getting ready to make a lot of noise before running for the ruins. If everything went according to plan, the Sholen would go haring off in pursuit of the sub and give Rob and Dickie the chance to sneak into Hitode. Rob had synched up timers for everyone, and his was now counting down to the big moment.
From where he and Dickie were hunkered down in the silt, Hitode was visible only as a vague glow beyond a rocky rise ahead. This side had always been a blind spot (or maybe a deaf spot) for the hydrophones, so unless the Sholen had planted more microphones Rob and Dickie could get to the top of the rise before anyone picked up the sound of them swimming.
The counter reached zero. Nothing happened—the little microphones on their sonar units weren’t sensitive enough to pick up submarine engine noises more than a kilometer away. Hitode’s hydrophone net was.
Allow the Sholen a couple of minutes to notice the sound, five minutes to suit up, and another ten minutes to get clear of the station. Then we move, thought Rob. He looked over at Dickie, who had Josef’s underwater pistol clipped to his belt. Rob hoped they could manage the whole little coup by bluff, because Dickie seemed way too eager to pull that trigger.
Tizhos heard the sound of hurrying Sholen and followed the noise to the dive room, where four Guardians stood still as their suits assembled themselves around their bodies. Irona was already there, holding a large metal box in his middle arms.“Tell me why they don their suits in such a hurry,” said
Tizhos to Irona.
“The microphones outside detected the Terran submarine,” said Irona. “We prepare to pursue it.”
“The submarine? You know it for certain? Do the sound patterns match?”
“Perfectly. Now please stay out of the way, Tizhos, while the Guardians prepare.”
Tizhos took out her own computer and connected to the station network. After a bit of fiddling she was able to listen to the sound pickups from outside. There was the submarine’s signature, no question about it. What was it doing? She watched the projection of the sound source’s movements and felt puzzled. She pushed her way back to Irona, who was pulling on his own life-support device. “Irona, tell me what purpose the humans attempt to achieve.”
“I assume you mean with the submarine. I have no idea.
They appear to move back and forth just at the edge of detection. Now I must—”
“Irona, I believe the humans attempt to fool us.” He opened his helmet again. “Explain.”
“Nothing else can account for the motions of the submarine.
It looks like someone trying to attract our attention. Note also that the sound comes from just the extreme range of the hydrophones. The humans built those hydrophones; presumably they know very well how far they can hear. This seems like a trick to me.”
With visible reluctance, Irona agreed. “Tell me your idea of the purpose of this activity.”
“I can think of two possibilities. Either they wish to test how well we can make use of the hydrophones, by seeing how we react to this; or they wish to lure the Guardians away from the station. Either way I suggest remaining here as the best course of action. Deny them information and refuse to take the bait they offer.”
Irona considered, then gave off a burst of dominance pheromones. “No, Tizhos. I have a better plan.” He turned to the Guardians, now all suited up. “The humans may plan a trick.
All of you go out, and swim beneath the station supports to the north. Four of you remain hidden under the station; the other two swim noisily to the north no more than two hundred meters. Now: come take your weapons.”
Irona opened the metal box. Inside it Tizhos could see eight stubby, wide-mouthed guns. “Tell me what you have there,” she said.
“A weapon from the last war,” said Irona. “I requested three dozen made from old plans before we left Shalina. Once soldiers fought underwater using weapons like this. They contain four small autonomous vehicles, each of which carries an explosive charge. Direct hits, or even near misses, can kill.”
Each of the Guardians took a weapon from the box. They sat on the edge of the dive pool and checked out the weapons with obvious familiarity. The very fact that they seemed to know so much about them made Tizhos even more nervous. How long had Irona been preparing for a conflict?
“Irona, I question the wisdom of this. A human has died because of us. Handing out weapons only makes things worse.”
“You are mistaken. The humans resist because they still believe in the possibility of defeating us. Once they see we have them outmatched, they must give in. Now: we cannot wait any longer. Go!” he ordered.
The Guardians rolled into the pool one after another and sank out of sight.
“Here,” said Irona, handing Tizhos one of the weapons.
“Put on your suit and come outside. I may need your help.”
Rob and Dickie moved along the sea bottom toward Hitode, no longer swimming but crawling. So far, so good. There had been a bunch of chaotic echoes around the dive pool, then the sound of several swimmers moving off to the north. Now it was quiet around the station.
They inched forward, stirring up little clouds of silt whenever they moved. Dickie was so focused on not being heard rather than staying unseen that Rob had to remind him the Sholen had eyes and cameras as well as hydrophones.
When the two of them were less than twenty meters from the station, there was no point in trying to stay concealed because all the external lights were on, turning the area around the station into a glaring white bubble in the darkness. The two men pushed off from the bottom and began kicking toward the dive entrance, trying to cover the distance before whatever person or software was watching the cameras could react.
Suddenly Rob’s sonar picked up a source outside the station. He squinted into the glare of the lights and thought he saw movement underneath the bulk of Hitode.
“Dickie—” was all he could say before a much louder voice nearly deafened him.
“STOP AND SURRENDER!”
Six Sholen-sized silhouettes emerged from their hiding place under the station.
“Crap,” said Graves. “Play along and get ready,” he said to Rob through the laser link.
“What?”
“Hello! We give up!” said Dickie over his own speaker. “We surrender!” He dropped to his knees on the sea bottom. Rob could see one hand near the pistol.
“Dickie, what are you doing?” Rob whispered over the link.
Graves casually touched the pistol. Evidently none of the Sholen recognized it as a weapon. He gripped it and put a finger on the trigger but didn’t raise his hand yet. The Sholen were only twenty meters away now. Rob could see they were carrying things in their upper arms. Weapons?
“Get your knife out, Freeman.” Graves raised the gun.