Chapter 18

Brad studied the Sandbox on the utility’s view screen.

“I think you’d better have a look,” he said to Kumiko as he twisted aside on the cramped flight deck. She peered over his shoulder.

“Got a problem?” Scarf sneered, his bulk cramped the remaining space behind the flitter’s pilot seat. He hunched forward trying to see around Kumiko.

Brad ignored the question. He waited for Kumiko’s assessment of the Sandbox, dead ahead.

Drummer had given him the job.

“I want this done,” he told Brad, “in a way that will demonstrate to the UIPS that we’re serious, and can back our words with actions. We’ve got to replace their image of us as misfits. They’ve got to see us as an organized military force that can defend its vital interests and, if necessary, impose its will.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to use Kumiko’s expertise as a weapons officer familiar with Inner Region ordnance. I want both of you to board the Sandbox and check all installed armament that can be directed against our fleet. Avoid a scrap, but if you find the guns have not been deactivated, do it for them.”

He pointed at Brad to give emphasis to his words.

“I don’t want their weapons slipping back into operational status as soon as you leave their ship. Whatever it is you do, fix their armament controls so that it’ll take them at least fifteen hours to get them back on line. We’ll need that much time to finish our job here and return to base.”

Scarf joined them, listening.

“I don’t like it.” His words were angry; his features petulant.

Drummer looked at Scarf with open scorn.

“Your likes and dislikes are the least of my concerns,” he snorted and turned back to Brad.

Scarf cut back in.

“I repeat, Drummer, I don’t like it, and what I like or don’t like is your concern. I’m here on counter-intelligence work, and I don’t like your sending this guy,” thumbing toward Brad, “and one of his sidekicks over to a UIPS ship on a highly sensitive assignment. I’m not that trusting they’ll do the job as thoroughly as you’re laying it out.”

Drummer frowned.

“What do you suggest?”

“That I go along.”

Brad stepped back to let the two work it out. He didn’t relish the assignment. The Sandbox’s commander was not going to accept boarders graciously.

“You go along? What the hell for?”

“To see how the assignment is carried out, and frankly, to make sure this guy doesn’t, shall we say, inadvertently pass information to the enemy.” After a brief pause, Scarf added, “I’m within my authority, Drummer. Part of the counter-intelligence function,” adding, with a smirk, “Don’t you agree?”

The utility’s approach to the cylindrical Sandbox closed in on the port side. Brad, at the controls, increased viewer magnification and inspected the ship closely. Kumiko, looking at the same image, reached under Brad’s arm and adjusted knobs and levers, zeroing in on one gun turret after another along the Sandbox’s length. She whistled softly.

“They’re loaded for bear,” she said. “Circle them, Brad, let’s see what’s on the other side.”

Brad took the utility around to starboard, then topside and below.

Scarf again. “OK, you’ve looked her over. Now, what’s the problem?”

“The ship has four laser-quads and a couple of explosive decompressors. She’s a heavily armed attack transport, that’s all.”

“So what? Can you do the job?”

Kumiko looked at Scarf, her normally soft features twisted, passive but icy. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I can do it. May take a little time, though.”