Free Angel of Destruction by Susan R. Matthews Page B

happened.
    Satisfied with Modice’s handling of her midnight suitor, Walton Agenis went back to bed.

Chapter Three

    Kazmer Daigule stood close behind the Langsarik raid leader in the dock-master’s office at the Tyrell Yards, keeping his head down and his eyes lowered. Between the visored cap pulled low over his brow and the artificial beard that covered most of the rest of his face there was little chance of anybody being able to recognize him later; but he was taking no chances.
    “Sorry to make you wait,” the Tyrell Yards’ dock-master said to the raid leader, keying her transmit. “We just can’t be too careful these days. Have you heard about what happened at Okidan?”
    If Kazmer tilted his head just a bit and squinted hard he could see the message the dock-master sent scrolling across the capture unit. Request confirmation, freighter on scheduled load-out from Port Charid to receiving office in Tweniva. Tyrell Yards. Please authenticate as follows .
    This was the tricky part.
    There was a small courier shuttle in the vehicle transport bay of the freighter Kazmer had piloted from Port Charid to the Tyrell Yards, here in the Shawl of Rikavie. On board that shuttle was an illegal communications intercept board, and the woman working that board had to intercept the dock-master’s signal and match it with precision and delicacy in order to ensure that it was fully damped — effectively canceled out — before it could reach Charid.
    Then it was just a question of waiting for the right interval to pass before transmitting a false response with the right security characteristics to pass scrutiny.
    “Okidan, yes.” The raid leader had given his name as Noman, a transparent but perfectly acceptable label under the circumstances. “And everybody has their own theory of how it was managed, too. Which they’ll tell you all about, if you don’t get away in time.”
    Noman wasn’t anyone that Kazmer recognized; not that he’d really expected to — Noman had taken prudent steps of his own to disguise his identity. A beard, a little transparent gum at the corners of his eyes to change their size and shape, all the tricks — and so well done that Kazmer had to really look closely to realize the deception.
    Noman’s voice was casual, even light; Kazmer envied his composure. Kazmer did his best to stay calm as the moments passed; finally, the dock-master’s board chirped its receipt announcement. Kazmer already knew what this one was supposed to read, but he couldn’t help being nervous about it.
    We authenticate, Tyrell. Freighter Sansifer en route to Tweniva with authorization to carry manifest as follows. You may proceed with assurance.
    Kazmer rubbed the back of his neck irritably as if scratching a sudden itch, just to cover the relief he felt.
    The dock-master closed the transmission with a casual gesture; clearly, she hadn’t been genuinely concerned — just prudent, in unsettled times. Nor was there any particular reason for her to be suspicious; there hadn’t been a raid in weeks, and unannounced traffic was apparently not unusual.
    “Right,” the dock-master said. Turning around, she started toward the door to her office that would lead back out onto the load-in docks, beckoning for Noman and Kazmer to come with her. “Let’s load cargo.”
    Time to get started, then.
    Noman nodded to Kazmer, who acknowledged the unspoken command with a crisp nod of his own before breaking into a quick jog-trot, heading out toward the freighter, where it waited with its load-in ramp unshipped and ready. They had cargo to unload and cargo to load, and then just before they left they’d off-load the courier so that the raiding party could make a separate escape.
    That way the freighter’s cargo stayed clean, with no stray weapons or unexplained extra crew to cause suspicions in anyone’s mind when they came to pass inspection by the Port Authority at Anglace. Kazmer was just as happy to be rid of the courier. The