Technically, Silvowitz still owned the Farm, although he had no control over its operation, and Krestor hadn’t been interested in his employees’ housing (since there were no longer any employees to be housed). Those once sturdy, reasonably comfortable units were slowly decaying into ruin, like most of Seraphim, but they were still there, and Indiana and Mackenzie had planned on using them as a training site when the time came. They were far enough out to be beyond the scags’ normal zone of interest, and there was enough traffic transporting the Farm’s produce to the city and the necessary supplies back to its fields to cover quite a lot of movement on the SIM’s part.
“I think it would be a good place, or I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Mackenzie pointed out. “At the same time, there’s always the chance some service tech out there to work on a broken down cultivator or harvester might spot something.”
“That was always going to be the case when we started training out there, anyway,” Indiana replied. “And these containers are a lot sturdier and more weathertight than I expected, so he could hide them out in the woods instead of one of the barns where your service tech might be poking around. Or someplace even better than that.”
He smiled at her, and she frowned back for a couple of seconds. Then her expression cleared.
“You’re thinking of Culver Hill, aren’t you?”
“That’s exactly where I’m thinking about.” Indiana nodded. He and his sister had spent a lot of childhood summer nights camping out by the small lake just east of Culver Hill. Which was how they happened to know about the cave system that ran for kilometers under the hill itself. The caves were on the damp side, but with the containers’ hermetic seals…
“That’s not a bad idea at all,” Mackenzie said approvingly. Then she grinned. “How did you happen to have it?”
“Very funny.” Indiana scowled at her. “But since I seem to be doing the intellectual heavy lifting today, I hereby nominate you to figure out exactly how we’re going to get them to the Farm in the first place.”
“Well, the first stage is to let Saratoga know they’re coming,” Mackenzie pointed out. “We’re going to need him to take a look at the caves and be sure he can get them in. Even with the counter-grav, moving them’s going to be a pain, especially without a lot of warm bodies to help, and there are some pretty narrow spots just inside the caves’ entrance.”
“Agreed. But let’s not tell him what we’re planning to send him.” Indiana’s expression was considerably more serious than it had been. “There’s no point telling him the guns have arrived if it turns out he can’t handle them.”
Mackenzie nodded soberly. One of their guiding principles was that what someone didn’t know, someone couldn’t spill accidentally…or under the sort of the duress Tillman O’Sullivan’s scags were expert at applying.
“All right.” Indiana gave a brisk nod of his own. “I’ll put the message together and get it into the secure drop for Osiris.” “Osiris” was Janice Karpov, Indiana and Mackenzie’s contact with Silvowitz. “If I get my butt in motion, I can probably make the drop this evening still.”
“Just don’t take any stupid chances, Indy,” Mackenzie said a bit sharply. He looked at her, and she scowled again, more darkly than before. “You’ve always just had to run right out and start playing with your toys, ever since you were a kid, and some things really don’t change, do they? I swear, I’ve known five-year-olds with more patience than you have! Well, discretion, anyway.” She snorted. “Those weapons aren’t going to get all old and worn out sitting there for an extra day or two.”
“I know they aren’t, Max.” Indiana’s tone was more soothing than agreeing, but Mackenzie was willing to settle for that. Getting him to admit she had a point would probably have been expecting too much, but that wasn’t the same thing as his not knowing she had one.
“If I can make the drop without pushing too hard, I’d still prefer to get it done tonight,” he continued. “All the same, we didn’t set up secure communications routes just so I could blow things when a really important message comes along, did we?”
“That wasn’t why I thought we were doing it, no,” she agreed.
“Point taken,” he capitulated. Then he grinned. “You know, I know all about secure communications and how important they are, but still, I’d really love to see Uncle Leonard’s face when he finds out he’s about to receive an entire battalion’s worth of small arms and support weapons!”
Chapter Nineteen
“—haven’t heard anything new out of Gold Peak or Medusa, anyway,” Captain Sadako Merriman said, looking up from the notes on her minicomp’s display. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t up to something, of course, Commissioner.” She grimaced. “The truth is, we’re pretty sure they are up to something. We just don’t have a clue what.”
The slender, fine-boned Frontier Fleet officer wasn’t one of Lorcan Verrochio’s favorite people for several reasons. Among other things, she had an annoying habit of seeming unimpressed by his own august presence, but she also had an equally annoying habit of telling him the truth. He supposed that counted for something, even if “don’t have a clue” wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear out of his senior naval intelligence specialist.
“We’re trying to get better information, of course, Commissioner,” Commodore Francis Thurgood (who had the distinction of being someone Verrochio liked even less than Merriman) put in. “In the wake of what happened to Admiral Crandall, though, we’re not in a position to push as hard for it as I’m sure we’d all like to. I don’t think the Manties would be very receptive to any ‘port visits’ on our part, for example.”
“I’m aware of that, thank you, Commodore,” Verrochio said as pleasantly as he could.
The stocky commodore had a weathered-looking appearance which Verrochio found strange in someone who spent his entire working life in artificial environments. And, although Thurgood was reasonably careful to avoid emphasizing it, he’d also tried to warn Sandra Crandall about what she was walking into. Of course, even his gloomy projections had fallen well short of the reality; they’d just been closer than anyone else’s.
“The Manticorans’ decision to recall their merchant shipping from Solarian space isn’t helping, Governor,” Merriman added. “I realize we didn’t have much of their shipping here in-Sector to begin with, but there was always at least some…cross-pollination, let’s say. Merchant spacers talk to each other wherever their paths happen to cross. They always seem to know a lot more than you think they should about what’s going on, and you can usually pick up a lot listening to them. In this case, though, there’s no one to do the talking.”
Verrochio nodded, not that he needed reminders about how painfully the Manties had wounded the League’s interstellar commerce. He’d managed to sidestep any responsibility for Sandra Crandall’s decision to attack Spindle, but its disastrous consequences had created enough crap to splash everyone in the sector, especially its commissioner. Official news of the Manty merchies’ recall had reached Meyers less than two weeks earlier, and the ruinous consequences of the withdrawal of Manticoran vessels from the League’s shipping lanes had been none too gently pointed out to him by higher authority. Some of those higher authorities hadn’t been shy about suggesting that it was the direct result of events in his sector, either.