GENELLAN: PLANETFALL(162)

Kateos and Et Silmarn had quietly followed Longo into the agricultural dome. Kateos bowed her head and lowered her eyes, as was expected. When Longo was comfortably by their position, she cast an overtly obscene gesture at his receding form, much to the surprise and poorly concealed delight of Et Silmarn.

"My mate!" Dowornobb begged, looking nervously at the sentries. "Do not antagonize authority. Your disrespect will be reported."

"I apologize, my mate," Kateos said. "Of course you are correct. I will harness my feelings." She checked that Longo's sentries were out of hearing.

"I am happy for you, Hudsawn," she said. "They will rescue you."

"I wish I were as confident." Hudson walked over to the dome and stared out at the wintry view. "Colonel Longo may have other ideas."

"Wha' do-ah weee do-ah nex'?" Et Silmarn asked. "One of us needs to get to a transmitter," Hudson said.

* * *

COMINT alarms sounded. Something had been intercepted, something that qualified as intelligent communication. Quinn jerked awake at her station and watched Godonov move to the monitoring system and disable the alarm. He cleared the system and began interrogation. Quinn's intuition screamed. She floated over to watch. She was frightened.

Godonov turned so quickly they collided.

"Contact!" he yelled. He returned to the console. "What tha— ? It's just a series of pulses. I wonder what the computer thinks it is? I need to pull the logic analysis." Godonov paused for several seconds, staring at the output. "Would you look...It's Morse code!"

"What does it say?" Quinn asked, her stomach fluttering.

"I'm running it through a conversion. I can't read ditty code." He punched his keyboard, and the screen changed format. Quinn was afraid to look. She closed her eyes and prayed. An eternity passed.

"What does it say, Nes? What does it say?" she cried. Godonov hit keys. The decoded message raced across his console:

EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION—REMAIN PASSIVE—YOU ARE STANDING INTO DANGER—SEVENTEEN SOULS HARRIER ONE CREW ALIVE—CHECK LATITUDE FOUR THREE DASH FIVE FOUR NORTH AND INTERSECTION OF BIG NORTH SOUTH RIVER—HUDSON TLSF

"Nash!" Quinn whispered.

"Commander?" Godonov asked.

"Nashua Hudson. My husband's second officer. Anything else?" she asked briskly. She moved to her console; her fingers trembled.

"That's all. It was repeated a dozen times and then nothing."

"Patch the message to Commander Carmichael. Have him maneuver to optimize coverage of the reported latitude, and tell him to drop to low orbit. Get the rest of the survey team up here." Quinn felt bitter panic welling within.

* * *

Dowornobb finished running the program that generated the peculiar sequence of dots and dashes. He had expected Longo' s soldiers to be guarding all radio access, but it had been ridiculously easy to transmit the radio message. He strolled nonchalantly from the planet's surveillance center. Colonel Longo and a squad of soldiers loped down the corridor toward him. Dowornobb swallowed and kept walking. It made no sense to run; there was no escape. He made an effort to pass in the wide hall, but one of Longo' s flunkies stepped in front of him, pushing him against the windowed wall. The thick glass vibrated with the force of impact.

"Scientist!" Longo said, his voice venomous. "What were you doing?"

"Huh.. .I was, eh . . . I was—," Dowornobb struggled to invent an alibi.

"He was reestablishing a datalink to our photo satellites—on my orders," Et Silmarn shouted from behind the soldiers. "I am updating our research. We have many scientific projects underway, as I am sure you know . . . most excellent Colonel." The noblekone elbowed his way through the crowded corridor. Kateos meekly followed him through the soldiers.

Longo gestured impatiently. A soldier stood to attention.

"Sir, the transmissions are not satellite commands," the soldier barked.

"Ah . . . because the link was malfunctioning," Dowornobb stammered, trying desperately to support the noblekone' s thin excuse. "I ran a narrow portion of a subroutine used to reset parameters within our internal program. The program is not related to actual satellite mechanics, so it is unlikely your technicians would be familiar with the program calls." Dowornobb continued with a tirade of technical jargon until Longo held up his hand. Longo stared at his technician.

"Well?" Longo demanded.

"Sir, I am only a communications technician. The scientist speaks of matters that I cannot comment upon. What I understand seems reasonable."

Longo dismissed the technician. He turned to Et Silmarn.