Free 05. Children of Flux and Anchor by Jack L. Chalker Page B

them, but if they hadn't shown up in forty-seven years they were no more likely to show up in the next century, if at all. She couldn't help thinking, though, of a fleet of these things, outfitted for humans, flying, spreading their impenetrable shields through Flux and Anchor, dealing out massive death and destruction. Outfitted for humans who would be in New Eden uniforms.
    "Have you . . . had any success?" she asked him hesitantly, wondering how far again she could push it.
    "For a long time, no. For almost twenty years actual work was abandoned, as it has been with the mother ships, because of a total lack of progress. Recently, though, two young lads at our own science university over in Babylon took a look at all the research out of curiosity and somehow cracked the core of the problem. It just had to wait until the genius was born and educated who could look beyond conventional knowledge. You know, this was something even our ancestors couldn't do, which was most likely why the other worlds were taken over. Broadcast Flux power. Like the radio. We've had some tests and it seems to work out. We're going for a full-scale demonstration in a week." He suddenly hesitated. "Uh—I'm sorry, my dear—that's all I can say and in fact that was too much. I'm certain you will understand that this is still confidential."
    "Yes, of course."
    "Excuse me, then. Wait here while I speak to my engineering chief and then we'll be off for fun and frolic, eh?"
    She stood there, just staring at the thing. He had gotten carried away, and talked as if he were speaking to the Guardian. Not very long from now, though, if it wasn't already percolating in his mind, he'd see it as having spilled the greatest secret of New Eden to a mere girl. And girls, of course, couldn't be trusted to keep secrets. In fact, girls who were too smart for their own good and found out too much were downright dangerous. She knew, even now, that they could not let her leave. Particularly not with a stringer, retired or not. Before he left here, he'd make a call or two, and she'd be so tightly security-monitored she wouldn't be able to take a bath or a crap in privacy.
    She might be able to give them the slip, even get out to Flux, which here, where the Anchor was pinch-waisted, was only a little over fifty kilometers away—but she knew she couldn't do it with five grandchildren. They would know that, too. For now, that was enough for them. They would still spend the afternoon and evening at the carnival, and the charade would be played out, but at some point they would figure out a plan and come for her.
    She wanted to cry but wouldn't give them the satisfaction. At least, she thought, she wasn't wallowing in self-pity anymore. As usual, events had reared up and crapped on poor Suzl.
     
     
     
    4
    SECURITY PROBLEM
     
     
     
    Matson grumbled in frustration. It had taken them half the night to reach a point in the line which hadn't either been cut or in some way disrupted every time he'd tried a splice—somebody on the other side was very good with communications him- or herself. The old ex-stringer had also been proud of himself for being able to manage a reasonable connection with the tools at hand after being so out of practice. He had never been a linesman, not of true wired systems anyway, and the old techniques that he had seen no use for that were drilled into his head time after time as a young trainee were slow to come back.
    The small emergency box was only on one pole every twelve kilometers, and he'd had to break the seal and then assemble what he needed out of the parts kit inside. It wasn't easy, particularly with only a hand-held light. Not knowing where the raiders were camped, they dared not risk a fire.
    The frustration was, after all that, and hanging on nervously from the top of a pole, Matson discovered that there were no central operators on duty between midnight and six in the morning at the interchanges along the route to the city. The phone