The natural “at rest” coloration of the suits, originally made more than two centuries ago for Navy special teams like the one Cromwell had once run, was the usual gun metal gray, and so were the ferrets. In the darkness, away from the just starting “teaching,” or service, they were virtually invisible and, thanks to the suit, they gave off no heat signatures. They did, however, have to have a place to go, and until now there was no evidence of the hidden part of this society no matter how obvious it was that it had to be there. Now they did.
Cromwell just wished he had more than half a dozen, and he prayed that the ones he had would return safe and sound. While there was some self repair built in, if these went there was no way to get more and little in the reference as to how the things worked anyway.
There was no question that this was one of the openings even though it didn’t register from space or from any appreciable distance. Standing on it, you got a fairly steady anomalous energy reading that generally meant a steady-state power grid below. Great shielding, though, Cromwell thought, then took out what looked to be a large pistol. He put its barrel flat to the edge of the area now showing energy below and said, “Gamma, bring me a probe terminator.” One of the others reached into a pack and then handed him a disc-shaped object perhaps thirty centimeters across which he clamped to his suit. He then fired the pistol.
There wasn’t any sort of explosion; instead, there was a whirring sound and when he felt the bit fall free of the covering he relaxed the pistol and pulled it slightly back. A black snakelike line continued to issue from the barrel as the probe dropped as far as gravity would take it. When it stopped, Cromwell twisted the barrel and removed the other end of the snake, then took the disc and attached it to the line, then let it go. The disc provided a solid anchor for the probe, which now was acting much like a real snake, moving around until it acquired the best signal. When it seemed satisfied, the center of the disc glowed a dull red for a few seconds, then went inert again.
“Good signal,” one of the team reported.
“Very well, then,” their commander responded. “Release ferret.”
From the probe a small, cigarlike shape seemed to flow out like liquid mercury, then started speeding ahead down the tunnel, which appeared to be lit by those glowing stripes similar to the ones used in the arsenal cave.
“Good visibility, good audio, but not much of a clue as to where anybody went,” Beta commented.
“Give it time,” their leader said soothingly.
“Junction!” Gamma called out. “Split ferret?”
“No, not until and unless we have to,” Cromwell told them. “Best guess, leave it up to the ferret. It has better sensors than we do.”
The ferret unhesitatingly chose the right tunnel and went on at maximum speed. Those little things could really move, Cromwell reflected, not for the first time.
“Observers! Two in the bush to the left, one sixty!” Delta called to them in the way only they could really hear.
Cromwell wasn’t about to go for subtleties when his people were being grabbed. He turned and looked straight at the interlopers using full night vision and saw the pair, a man and a woman, both middle-aged and both butt-ugly, he thought, but not otherwise distinguishable from the rest of the settlers. Except, of course, they both had standard military issue energy pistols in their hands.
“Take ’em both on my command,” he instructed. “If they’re going to take our people then maybe we should have a few of theirs.”
Before he could give the command, the woman rose up, trained her pistol right on him, and fired. There was a brief beam that struck him dead on—and had absolutely no effect whatever. Battle suits were not robes.
She seemed absolutely baffled, and Cromwell said, “Now! Both of them!”
Delta fired two short autoguided bursts and both of the settlers dropped.
“Why in the world would they think those things would work on combat suits?” somebody asked, as two of them went over to check on and then restrain the pair.
“It’s damned dark out here, that’s why,” Cromwell reminded them. “That’s why we picked this location. They may have better natural night vision than we do, but I’ll bet you that they couldn’t even tell we weren’t buck naked at that distance with just their eyes. I’m impressed that she hit me at all. That’s damned good shooting.”
“We’ll have to pray that the Doctor has the quality of mercy in him when he interrogates them, too,” Delta commented, picking up the pistol and examining it.
“Oh? Why?”
“This is a fairly old model, but unless I’m really misreading this she had it on a force high enough to kill, not just knock you cold.”
“Huh! Well, search ’em thoroughly for weapons. Archangel, you’re sending a pickup team, I hope?”
“On the way,” said the controller for the team high in orbit above them.
“We’ve got something on screen!” Beta called to them. “Alpha, I think you will want to see this.”
They all did, but with one standing picket and two binding up the prisoners, only Cromwell and Beta were able to take a look at that point, along with, a fraction of a second later, Archangel.
The ferret had climbed up the wall and now was slowly positioning itself on the ceiling for the best shot.
The cave had expanded into a large chamber, originally natural but now enlarged and regularized, that was quite a different level of existence than topside. While not luxurious, it was perfectly modern, a series of cubes assembled together into a kind of apartment building or office complex, it was difficult to say which. There was lighting in there, and some people around, and in the center was a regular circular depression with three concentric levels that seemed like some ancient forum.
The people looked pretty much the same as they did topside, but perhaps cleaner and a bit less conditioned than everyday farmers. All carried sidearms similar to the ones used by the two who’d come upon the team, held in casual holsters worn outside of their loose fitting clothing. There seemed no sexual hierarchy; both men and women had the sidearms and also the arrogant expressions that they backed up.
“They didn’t do this in a few days or weeks,” Beta commented. “They’ve been here for a very long time. And they got a ton of the stuff out of that ship, didn’t they?”
Cromwell nodded. “And this is just one of them. I wonder how extensive this cave system is, and just how many complexes like this there might be? Those ships like the one we found were basically automated, but as raiders they often carried a hundred or more people, sometimes what passes for families among them. Give them a hundred, and perhaps fifty years, and you’ve got a fair-sized elite here.”
“Holy—! Just look at that!” Delta commented, coming over to look.
From one of the caverns emerged a small mag tractor pulling two flats loaded with crates of something or other.
“If they have that kind of mobility, why strong-arm the arsenal?” Beta wondered.
“Security. I bet few of them have full access to that lift. If they did, they’d have knocked each other off by now. At least we know how they’re getting trade goods they need in when they need them without obvious wagon trains. I doubt if they have too many of the tractors, though. That one looks like the kind they’d use to load and unload their ship. I suspect they have no more than four or five, tops; that would be enough for their needs but not for everybody else.”