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Xindral continued as if he hadn't noticed.
"A footnote," he said. "The Belt's been cleared of almost all rocks and swarms, plus the big ones that we couldn't use for outposts. As you may recall from your school days, it wasn't easy hauling micro-spunnel terminals around the Belt and ramming rocks into the hoppers for transfer to meltdown and refining above Venus.
"In short, the big s.p.a.ce sweeps of five to eight hundred years ago cleared away most of the residue in Belt orbits that had no beneficial purpose and were a hazard to traffic. The Belt was a good source for minerals -- while it lasted."
He paused to key the instrument in his hand.
"That's done," he said. "What's left are only a few of the big asteroids, like Ceres. They serve both regions as Solar s.p.a.cetrack Centers, communications relays, search and rescue operations, s.p.a.ce lanes debris collection teams, urgent care hospitals, and for spunnel gateways management."
As he spoke the ring of lights in the tank flickered. Another ring formed, evenly s.p.a.ced rods, each glowing a contrasting color.
"The Guardian Stations," Xindral said, "have been in position for more than six centuries. Twenty stations; no more are planned."
The tank zoomed in on five of the twenty rods in a quarter segment of the full orbit; the rods expanded to form slowly rotating cylinders.
"The Guardians are apportioned among four generally equal sectors, any one of which serves the quadrant that it happens to transit at the time. Responsibilities and missions overlap, and are pa.s.sed along from the station moving out of a quadrant to the one entering it along the common orbital path. Using standard and hypers.p.a.ce omnidirectional surveillance, each station's primary job is to monitor its sector: inward toward the Sun, and outward to the rim and beyond as far as our technical capabilities extend. The service areas change constantly in keeping with the alignments and dynamics of planets and their satellites, traffic-lane management, neutralizing debris intrusions, and conventional and spunnel teleport maintenance."
Xindral folded himself back on to the high stool as he spoke.
"After the political separation of the Inner and Outer Regions these Guardian Stations reverted to us by the treaty. Formally, they serve only the Inner Region's jurisdictions. Informally, however, the stations cover the entire system; to do otherwise would bring about enormous disruptions and disasters in s.p.a.ce traffic and communications.
"The Guardians' functions include standard and spunnel communications, disaster relief, search and rescue of distressed s.p.a.cecraft, intercepting and diverting comets-of-hazard, meteors, debris and other threats to traffic in the s.p.a.ce-ways that serve the Inner Region's s.p.a.ce colonies needs.
Often the Outer Region's folks help when their interests are involved; just as often they don't.
It's one of the prices we pay for this political breach, and one of the most frustrating."
Zolan turned to aim a remark at Adari. She giggled and elbowed Hodak. He growled and twisted away.
k.u.miko's eyes lifted from the deck to lazily roam the blank overhead.
Myra's face openly played non-listener. Brad continued to observe Xindral closely, glancing occasionally at the tank.
Aware that he was losing his audience, Xindral paused and stood quietly for a moment.
"Do my words bore you?" He leaned forward to take them all in. His voice, still soft, nevertheless exposed a cutting edge.
Zolan looked at Xindral as he contemptuously gave the tank the back of his hand.
"Who're you trying to kid?" His challenge was cast low, tight. "I don't know about the rest of these folks. I haven't asked any of them about themselves, nor have they tried to check me out.
But you wouldn't have brought us together without first investigating us for whatever your purpose might be. For example; you must know I'm a s.p.a.ce communicator. So, frankly, your rambling on like this not only bores me, its phoniness is clear and insulting."
Hodak slapped his knee and laughed. He pointed at Zolan, then wagged his finger at Ram.
"Comm isn't my beat," he said. Thumbing over his shoulder at Zolan, he added, "but what he said goes for me."
Xindral brushed the keys on the control and returned it to its case. The view tank faded as he fixed his eyes on Zolan.
"Yes, Zolan, I am familiar with your background."
s.h.i.+fting to Hodak, "Yours, too." His glance widened to include the others, "as I am with the backgrounds of you all."
In response, the prisoners silently glared defiance.
"Zolan's observation is correct and on point,"
Xindral said, ignoring their disdain. "We're not fooling one another. Simply stated, you have much in common. You are professional s.p.a.ce men and s.p.a.ce women, and highly qualified at that. Your skills and resourcefulness remain with you and I am aware of them."
Slouchers straightened. Hodak and Adari looked around and their faces broke into grins, which were returned. Tension remained, but subtly altered.
"A couple of points," said Xindral. "First, you are all from sunside of the Belt and you are not known, as far as my sources can determine, where I don't want you to be. Second, together, you represent a cross-section of s.p.a.ce professions and experience vital to the success of an important and urgent task. What you are going to be asked to do will place your lives at risk. You will need to rely on each other, personally and professionally, under difficult circ.u.mstances."
Brad had enough.
"Now let's just wait a minute!"
Brad was on his feet, instantly joined by the others.
Xindral, head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side, sat and listened.
"Zolan said it first," said Brad. "None of us speaks for the others, so what I say is for myself. Who are you to force me -- us -- into a life-risk situation?"
The words, tightened in long-suppressed rage, spewed forth.
"You just counted off a couple of 'points'." Brad raised his hand, index finger raised. "Now here's one for you. I'm here because I was convicted of a so-called offense against society. No way do I consider myself a criminal; furthermore, I don't know if these others," motioning in their direction, "consider themselves criminals or not.
Again, I say, not my business. I'm here to serve a prison sentence, and that doesn't include doing odd jobs where my life goes on the line."
Brad and Xindral faced each other across tension-charged s.p.a.ce. The momentary confrontation pa.s.sed, Brad, obviously fed up with Xindral's evasions, crossed his arms across his chest and waited. The tall man studied him.
"Your point is well made," he said. "You have forced the issue forward, and your challenge must be answered before we go much further.
Here are a few of the pieces. Think about them."
He stepped back on to the platform and took his seat.
"You were selected only after a searching investigation into your backgrounds," he said.
"We considered your records, personalities, and your capabilities: phys and psy, professional skills, job performance, resiliency, whatever the task I a.s.sign to you will likely call for.
"You are now a UIPS task group, for want of a better designation. One of you will be appointed Commander. You will be given a job to do. You will depend on each other in most difficult circ.u.mstances: your records for reliability under stress were among the selection criteria.
You were acceptable.
"As to your appointment, that was made by an authority outside this station, actually, outside the Correctional Service of which this penal inst.i.tution is a part. From the time you were moved into the holding cells for transfer here, you came under the jurisdiction of a Ministry that is involved with the most vital interests of the UIPS.
The specifics of your mission will be covered in our next session."
"The h.e.l.l you say." Hodak bounced again. "You're still dangling us on a string. Lay the whole bit out. Now!"
Nods and grunts followed Hodak's demand.
"Very well," Xindral said, after a short pause.
"Actually, there's no reason to delay your marching orders."
His voice flattened.
"By direction of the President of the United Inner Planetary System you are appointed to the Strategic Penetrations Detachment of the Ministry of Intelligence. Your unit identifier is 'Sentinels'.
Your unit commander is Brad Curtin, present.