"Yep. Ailse was worried silly. She even talked to the maid--not much,
just enough that we could figure out what was happening. It seemed she
was going to confront Woller with what she knew, try to talk him out of
treason."
"A real good idea," Nolan remarked. "Knowing Woller--"
"That's how we knew where this base was. She told the maid. Oh, you do
know where you are, don't you? On Pluto. The wildest section there is,
north of Annihilation Range."
"How about this cockeyed disguise of yours? Who is this Chief you were
supposed to be?"
* * * * *
Petersen frowned. "Don't know, exactly," he admitted. "There are
three men it could be--they're all connected with the Junta, we're
pretty sure. They're all on Saturn, and we got word that they were
rendezvousing here. We knew the boss kept his identity hidden by
wearing this get-up, so I was detailed to cut in."
Nolan nodded. Then, his thoughts reverting, he said. "Where's
the--where's Ailse now?"
Petersen looked unhappy. "Uh--I don't know. After you left we sent for
her, just to see what she knew that might help. The maid went after
her--and couldn't find her. She'd gone out of town, wasn't expected
back for some time. We couldn't wait. All the leaders of the Junta
meeting here--it was too big a chance."
Nolan said, "Well, what are we doing about it? They're all there, and
they're warned. And we're out here, parked on the edge of nowhere,
waiting for them to get up a scout party and grab us."
Petersen turned to look out the window in the direction of the dome. He
scanned the skies carefully, then pursed his lips.
"Well, no, Steve," he said, pointing. "Take a look."
Arrowing lines of fire were swooping down from far into the blackness.
Three trails of white flame showed where three ships were plummeting to
the surface. Nolan turned to Petersen with a startled question in his
eyes.
"Watch," Petersen advised. "This'll be worth seeing!"
Down and down they drove, faster than meteor ever fell. A mile above
the ground the jets behind died, and yellow flame burst ahead of them,
flaring quickly to white. They slowed, poised, and then, in perfect
unison, spun off to one side. They came around in a great circle and
dived at the ground again. And repeated the operation, over and over.
And abruptly Nolan saw what was happening. He was witnessing the
systematic annihilation of the domed settlement! Immense bursts of
fire from ship-sized pyros were blazing into the ground. The hummocks
prevented a dear view, but Nolan could see from the reflected glare on
the mountainsides behind that the destruction was frightful.
"I called them," Petersen said softly. "You saw me call them. That
black box--it's a telesonde."
Nolan didn't turn, fascinated by the sight. "What's a telesonde?" he
asked absently.
"A radio that carries neither voice nor vision. Only one note
short or long depending on how long the key is held down. Your
great-great-grandfather knew about it. It was the first method of
wireless communication. Now it's so completely forgotten that when
TPL researchers dug it up it was adopted as the most secret method of
communication available."
Nolan nodded his head. The ships came around again, and down. This time
the forward jets were delayed. When they flared out they persisted,
while the ships dropped gently out of sight. They were landing.
The destruction of the dome was complete.
Nolan turned away. "Quite a sight," he said slowly. "They deserved to
die, of course...."
"Steve."