reliable technicians to open the spunnel
center for only that one outgoing message."

"Yes, sir."

"Figure out some way to be aboard the Dragon
during the operation. Watch Drummer; I still don't
trust him. If he tries to undermine my authority
while I'm away, shoot him."

"It'll be a pleasure, sir. What about Brad and his
buddies?"

"If they resist my orders, kill them. If it does
get to that, send me a spunnel flash after you've
done it. If you do kill Drummer and Brad, assume
control of the combined fleet and the Terminals.
If that's not possible, blast the terminals out of
the sky."

Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

Zolan walked into Brad's office and dropped into
a chair, clearly exhausted.

"How'd it go?"

"Couple of dozen screen generators in position
sunside," Zolan hefted a small, flat control in his
hand as he spoke, then tossed it on the desk.

"The energizer," he said quietly.

Brad turned the control in his hands as he examined
each safety lock. He slipped the control into a
pocket.

"Narval leaves for the conference in a few hours,"
he said, almost in a whisper. He could not hide his
deep sadness.

They rose and walked together toward the door.
Without speaking, Zolan left and disappeared around
a bend in the corridor.

The hour of Narval's departure brought a whirl of
excitement to Coldfield. The transit strip from the
official residence to the President's air lock had
been stopped, scrubbed clean, and a padded chair
installed on it for Narval's comfort.

Narval boarded the strip, accompanied by his
personal guards. The guards took protective
positions ahead, behind, and along the strip's
edges, completely surrounding their leader. The
strip began to move and maintained a slow, steady
pace until Narval was abreast the air lock; it came
to a smooth stop.

The air lock had been decorated with flags and
bunting; a red carpet extended from the strip to
the air lock. Narval swept in and passed through
the inner compartment.

The Revenge, Narval's luxurious spunnel yacht was
moored to pylons above the air lock. The yacht's
commander, Captain Ras Hamdia, stood stiffly at
the head of a line of ship's officers inside its portal.

A set of taut, parallel cables rose from the air
lock to the ship. Fastened to the cables at the
surface, Narval's personal red and black lift
capsule was ready to transfer him aloft without
the inconvenience of donning a space suit.

Narval entered the