The confined titanium airlock tube gave way to the VIP reception room; noise, light, smells, and people registered again. It was a sharp transition from the isolation of the Falcon's cabin. Sean Francis, Lloyd McDonald, and three hardline bodyguards were waiting for them.
"Are you all right, ma'am?" Sean Francis asked. He was even more hyper than usual, pale and anxious.
"Yes, thank you, Sean." Julia gave him a tired little smile.
"What are the spaceplanes doing now?" Victor asked Lloyd McDonald.
"The first one altered its trajectory as soon as our target acquisition radars burned through its ECM and locked on. It matched orbits with New London, and it's holding station five and a half thousand kilometres ahead of us. Outside the defence perimeter, you'll note. We identified the model as an Alenia COV-325; so with its capacity it could be carrying up to thirty hardliners. The second spaceplane is fifteen thousand kilometres out, and closing. And just to add to the situation: all five Strategic Defence networks placed their geostationary platforms on amber alert status as soon as we targeted the Alenia and powered up our weapons platforms."
"Have there been any transmissions from the spaceplanes yet?"
"None. We're monitoring continually, of course."
"Good. I need to know who's on board. If Reiger is in one of them he must be snuffed immediately."
"Difficult," Lloyd said. "We don't have any kinetic harpoons; our platforms are all equipped with energy weapons. It really is a defensive system."
"Politically expedient not to base offensive weapons here," Julia said with a hint of regret. "Sorry, Victor."
"Five hundred kilometres beyond the defence perimeter," Victor mused. "That's not much of a margin for them."
"We're geared to halt incoming hostiles," Lloyd said. "You start shooting outside the perimeter and you run slap bang into the inverse-square law. The nearest platform to the COV-325 is over a thousand kilometres away, the lasers wouldn't even melt plastic at that distance."
"So move one of the platforms in range," Victor said automatically.
Lloyd looked at Sean, who nodded thoughtfully. "Could do, yes?"
"OK," Lloyd said. "But the platforms aren't equipped with high-thrust engines. It'll take time."
"Time we have plenty of," Victor said.
"Just as long as they can't get in," Julia said.
"They won't," Sean said. "Our hardware is the best, yes?"
He gestured to a waiting lift. "Greg and his people are in the security centre. They've just got back."
"Did they find Charlotte's Celestial priest?" Julia asked.
"Absolutely, yes. He's a funny old bird, though. Don't know what you'll make of him."
Julia stepped into the lift. They all crowded in around her, Lloyd talking into his cybofax, organizing the platform realignment.
"How are you coping, Sean?" Julia asked as the lift began to move down.
"Pretty good, considering. I've declared an official biohazard alert, which I think added to the Strategic Defence commander's jitters. But it gives me the authority to quarantine the colony without any legal comeback. Shutting down the communication circuits is stretching the principle a little, mind."
"But our lawyers can fight it if anyone objects," she finished for him. "Good. Well done."
Victor reckoned that if he ever got lost in New London's southern endcap complex his processor implant would be the only thing to save him wandering through the labyrinth of corridors for the rest of his life. There was a kilometre and a half of rock between Hyde Cavern and the hub docking crater, a termite nest of housing, offices, tunnels, corridors, hydroponic farms, fish farms, light-industry factories, and chambers full of environmental support machinery. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, but there was so much smooth featureless rock, and very few windows.
Sean Francis led them through the security centre without any hesitation. But then of course, everything he did was perfection. One of the reasons nobody felt quite at ease with him, not even Julia, and that was quite an accomplishment.
The briefing room had a window-wall looking out into Hyde Cavern. Heavy drops of rain trickled down the glass.
All Victor could see outside was a solid sheet of bleak mist, tinted by a slight orange-pink fluorescence.
There were active holograms on the walls, illuminated landscapes, all of them pre-Warming. A circular table of brown smoked glass stood in the centre of the room; most of New London's furniture was glass and metal. Tourist zones could afford to import wood, the security budget didn't stretch to that. Suzi and Melvyn stood in front of the window, silhouetted against the mist, talking quietly. Greg, Rick, and Charlotte were sitting in the aluminium-framed chairs around the table; a couple of the crash squad hardliners he didn't recognize were in the chairs lined up along the wall.
Julia pulled her shipsuit cap off, letting her hair fall loose. Greg gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"You found him all right?" Julia asked.
"Charlotte's contact, yes; his name is Sinclair. Royan is proving a little more elusive." Greg sighed. "I had hoped he'd contact me. He must know I'm here, he'll have monitor programs loaded into every 'ware core in New London by now. I know Royan."
"He'll know I'm here too," Julia said. She turned and gave Charlotte a long stare.
Charlotte dropped her gaze, looking fixedly at the olive-green carpet squares. Victor almost felt sorry for the girl, a cool Julia Evans was a daunting prospect. And of course Charlotte wouldn't have known not to access any datanets, even at secondhand through the American Express office. The oversight was as much his fault as hers, she should have been fully briefed.
"Can we get on with the problem in hand?" Victor said.
He pulled a chair out for Julia.
She turned from Charlotte and sat down, giving him a private sly grin. "Male hearts and fallen angels," she murmured in a tiny voice.
Victor could feel the warmth creeping up his face.
"Royan used a drone to hand the flower over to Sinclair," Greg said. "If we want him, he'll be somewhere in the tunnels and caves the Celestial Apostles use."
"Intuition?" Victor asked.
"Not really. Royan spent a couple of days with the Celestials, that means he'll have learnt all about their set-up, what they know about the caves, the ones they use. Once he cross-referenced that with security and police procedures he would have found himself a totally secure location for his trials, safe from anybody interrupting, just in case anything did go wrong. Presumably that's where the alien is as well."
"So what do we do?" Lloyd asked. "Conduct a mass search? I'd hate for any of my people to stumble on this alien. If you say it exists, ma'am, then I'll believe you. But you're not going to convince everybody."
"Tell you, there's no need for a search," Greg said. "Sinclair will take us into the caves and show us where the drone gave him the flower. We'll see what we can find there. Another personality package maybe. Royan has to have left some method of guiding Julia to him."
"Sinclair!" Suzi grunted. "You're going to rely on that overmicrowaved fruitcake? Jesus, Greg, he's totally brainwarped."
Amusement and annoyance chased across Greg's face.
"Sinclair's not exactly rational," he said slowly. "But neither is he insane, no way. I think he might be slightly timeloose."