"A slaughter wouldn't be necessary," Otho said. "If only I could crush a throat or two, I would be satisfied. A happy Bhor."
"No," Cind said. "And that's my last word on the subject." Just then, the container coasted against one of the depot slices. It bumped once. Twice. Then she had it steady against the steel walls.
She applied small bursts of power, edging the container along the station's hull. Finally, it came to rest against a repair port. Cind locked on.
"Now, let's get inside," Cind said. "And remember, Otho... No killing. We're freedom fighters, remember? And a bloody trail of innocent civilian victims makes for a lousy image."
"If you insist." Otho sniffed. "I suppose I'll become accustomed to these modern ways in time."
A few blurred minutes, and they'd peeled the sealed port door with a small charge and were inside.
Cind clicked her com unit twice. A moment later, there was a return click from the Victory.
Step one complete.
Cind had never seen an AM2 depot in person, much less been inside one. Onscreen, the mission had looked easy. The schematic Kilgour had ferreted out of a reference library showed a very dull, functional structure. Only its purpose was dramatic. A storehouse and distribution center for the most efficient power source ever discovered.
The schematic showed that almost the entire depot was devoted to this purpose. There was only AM2, in the Imperium X-shielded bays. Living and work quarters. And a big-son-of-a-clot computer to keep things humming along.
Onscreen, it looked easy...
Cind glanced around the corridor she and her squad were slipping silently along. Nothing but gray walls, gray ceiling and floor, bathed in a faint glow of indirect lighting. From the repair port, the corridor ran straight for half a klick. Then it elbowed to the left. A quarter of a klick more, and they had reached the central computer.
For a change, Cind thought, the practice looked as easy as the theory.
Then they reached the elbow. Turned. And it quit being easy.
"By the curly hair on my dear mother's chin," Otho groaned, "it looks like the inside of a streggan's lair."
His comparison was quite accurate. The streggan—a mortal enemy of the ancient Bhor, now hunted to extinction—had lived in deep caverns reached through elaborate mazes scraped out of rock. To this day, the Bhor played a complicated game based on those legendary mazes.
Cind was looking at something very similar. Dusable's engineers had only partly followed the schematics. Instead of one corridor leading in a single direction, the main tunnel split a dozen times.
There was not a clue which entrance she should take.
"How much time do we have?" Cind asked, a little desperate.
"It doesn't matter," Otho said.
"Dammit, it does. If that patrol boat—"
"You have surpassed your old mentor in many things," Otho said. "But I see there is still some things you can learn. By my father's scrawny backside, I tell you... that gives me hope."
His brows beetled fondly at Cind. "A maze," he said, "is a thing of purpose. The purpose can be to amuse, or to hide."
He glanced at the tunnels snaking out before him. Shadows deep inside each one indicated other corridors eeling off to who knew where. "The beings of Dusable," he said, "most likely are concerned with the second. From what I have heard, the politicians have almost everything to hide."
"Why would they want to hide their central computer?" Cind asked. "I would think quick access would be important."
Otho nodded. He strode down the center tunnel a short distance, thumping on walls. Solid. Then a hollow sound. He lifted a belt torch from his harness and quickly cut a small opening.
Otho peered inside. Then he chortled. "I knew it." He waved for the others to join him.
Cind peered into the hole. There was a large compartment beyond, stacked with crates and barrels of contraband.
"The depot serves a double purpose," Otho said. ‘To store AM2 for the Empire. And to enrich the black marketeers of Dusable. You see. I was correct As usual."
"Well, good for you," Cind said. "But that still doesn't tell us which corridor to take."
"Oh... That. No difficulty at all," Otho said. "I was merely curious as to the purpose of this puzzle."
"You mean you know the way?"
"Certainly. These dimwits of Dusable would have chosen the most basic maze design. We take the tunnel on the far left. From then on, no matter what opportunity presents itself, you always choose the left. Eventually, we will arrive."
"If you're wrong," Cind said, "then we could be lost for hours. The entire mission blown. Not to mention our own buttocks being held against the fire."
"You doubt me? I, Otho. The master of the maze game?" Otho's red-rimmed eyes were wide at her lack of confidence.
Cind hesitated, then shrugged. "Lead on," she said.
Otho did. They moved quickly down the left-hand corridor, which twisted and turned and then spread out into many other possible routes. But Otho always chose the left. Sometimes this route would dead-end. And they would have to retrace their steps. Then plunge on.
Suddenly, the corridor made a left elbow like the first that had confounded them. Ahead was a door. Behind the door came a gentle hum of electronics.
With high drama, Otho waved a hand at the door. "Our destination," he intoned. He beamed at Cind, expecting a gush of admiration.
Cind simply nodded and raced for the door. She unsnapped a listening device from her harness. Put it to the door and bent an ear. A moment later, she signaled the all-clear, palmed a switch, and the door hissed open.
Light flooded across the elaborate computer that controlled all functions of the AM2 depot.
Cind plunged inside, went directly to the computer. She stared at the various options, touched some keys, grinned, and then took a programmed fiche from a beltpouch and fed it into the machine.
Otho and the other Bhor took their preplanned security positions. "The young are so rude, these days," Otho complained. ‘They do not see value in the experience of their elders. Why, when I was a stripling—too young to drink stregg unless it was in my milk—my mother would have skinned me for showing so little respect.
"Oh... well... No sense complaining. At least I had the joy of playing the maze game."
He mumped his corporal's back. "Was that not a most splendiferous achievement?"
Before the corporal could respond, there came an incredible shrieking wail, followed by a loud hooting of alarms.
Cind sprinted out of the control center as the computer voice blared down the corridor and sounded all over the depot.
"The depot has just been impacted by a meteorite. Point of impact, the main AM2 storage center. An AM2 explosion is imminent. All personnel are ordered to abandon the depot immediately. Use emergency procedures 1422A. Do not panic. Repeat do not panic. Impact."
"Let's get the clot out of here before they do," Cind shouted. And they raced away—this time bearing to the right as they wound their way back through the maze.
All over the depot, beings scrambled for the lifeboats. As the alarms hooted and the computer advised them not to panic, they scratched and fought for positions aboard the boats. In a few minutes the depot had emptied. And a small area of space was filled with lifeboats hurtling for the safety of the planet's surface.
Cind's container craft quietly kicked off.
She clicked her com three times.