It swung, and we were face to muzzle with an entire squad of troops, fingers on trigger. They were agitated and sweating in full armor.
I raised hands, said, “I have Royal and Freehold ID.”
“Slowly,” a uniformed captain said.
“Yes, sir,” I agreed, and carefully drew the documents again. I could smell residue and blood nearby. There had been some ugliness.
He’d apparently already called down planetside and confirmed. He waved us in and the weapons lowered.
I said, “May I ask for an update? We’ve heard nothing since lifting.”
His expression was both disgusted and annoyed.
“Apparently, he smuggled weapons through, or already had them stashed aboard. We tried to cordon him off and lock him, but he saw that coming. So we tried a public standoff, betting on our marksmen versus him. We were under the impression he didn’t like collateral casualties.”
“I had hoped he wouldn’t,” I said. Oh, damn, what had he done?
“Apparently, he doesn’t. He was quite willing to bet we didn’t either, and he had the offensive position. His shooting was quite good, and even his misses didn’t hit any civilians. I had six troops go down, the crowd scattered and hindered us, then he blew his way through a bulkhead. We locked the station down for departures, but we can’t do that for long.”
“I can eyeball every passenger, if that will help,” I said. “You’ll have to check cargo, et cetera, and search in detail. Cynthia, advise them on search procedures, please.”
“I do know how to conduct a reconnaissance, sir,” he said, sounding put upon.
“I’m sure you do. We know how to conduct one for our people.”
“Understood,” he said. He gestured and several of his troops came over. Silver took control comfortably and directed them.
I asked, “Where do you need me?”
“We have a ship waiting to leave now. Can you check that one first?”
“I can. Depressurize the hold and the cargo compartment, then cycle back. Manually inspect anything larger than a personal bag. Where are the passengers?”
“Through here.” He indicated a gate lock to the side. Number X-1.
I followed him through, and stood back at a gesture from him. His troops slipped past me as I stood aside, and filed around the area. It had crosshatched windows on one half, to reassure the human mind that it wasn’t a drop off into space. The other half had murals on the bulkhead. Nice facility.
He spoke clearly and loudly, “Pay attention!”
The passengers stared at us, a combination of annoyed, eager, and wanting any distraction from the tedium of waiting. There’s only so much most people can do with the nodes and vid while waiting for a flight.
“We will be able to board you in a moment. We are conducting a search of all bags, and all persons. I need you to form a queue here, regardless of your flight zone or class.”
Someone, of course, objected. I can’t blame the man. I like encountering people who don’t think like sheep.
“Do you have a warrant for this search?” he asked. I didn’t recognize his accent, and while I might approve of his attitude, it would hinder us.
The captain pulled out a chit and said, “I have a Royal Warrant and a Royal Commission. If you wish not to have your luggage searched, you may make other arrangements to transport it. If you wish not to let me compare your face to your passport, you may elect to remain in the station until you do.”
Fortunately, the man looked amused.
“I guess that’s reasonable enough,” he said. “I should be less irritable next time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll go first then,” he said, and made his way to the front of the line.
I looked him over. He was nothing like Randall in build, color, shape or mannerism. I nodded faintly and continued.
I walked down the line and scanned the passengers. It took seventy seconds at most.
“They’re fine,” I said.
“That fast? Are you positive?”
“He’s not female, not a child, doesn’t fit certain body types, has visible racial markers. He’s not in here.”
The captain leaned in and said, “Sir, you can’t mention profiles here. Someone will sue.”
“You asked. I told you. He can’t be female, a child, a scrawny Caucasian, a fat Asian, or several others. No one on this flight is remotely close.”
“Very well, then.” He looked at his phone. “The ship’s been evacuated and purged as you asked, and the cargo has been pulled. They’re repacking it now, and they’ll check the luggage.” He led us to a tram station.
I said, “Before repacking, get hands on ID and two people to vouch for every cargo handler, then lock that area off if you can.”