Clan Wallace to break into the satellite facility. But through means indirect, the party of Brian, Pavel, and Ethan were finally equipped with scan passes, codes, and intelligence about security within the building, which appeared to have been down-graded to video-surveillance and one security guard only, if reports were to be believed.
The evening of their planned mission arrived. Ethan estimated that he needed ninety minutes to finish the work of redirecting the control of the satellites to MCC. Pavel suggested they arrive between four-thirty and five in the morning, a time night-shift guards favored for drinking the strong black Budapesti coffee known as kávé.
“Zussman—our butler—worked security when he was a twobody,” said Pavel. “He swore by that four-thirty cup of coffee to get you through ‘til the shift ended.”
This led to another disagreement between Brian and Pavel as Pavel steered the craft toward Budapest.
“Lad, we don’t want security distracted,” said Brian Wallace. “We want them unconscious.”
“That is not an acceptable first option,” replied Pavel.
Ethan stepped between the two, figuratively, suggesting that Pavel was well-informed to know what sort of drug might render someone unconscious with the least amount of damage to the individual’s person.
Wallace shrugged his agreement. “It’s more humane than striking them a blow to the brains, I’ll grant ye.”
Ethan, who had been researching medicinal methods of knocking someone out, made several suggestions and Pavel grudgingly approved one of them. He didn’t like the idea of harming someone who could have been Zussman.
“You are a healer,” said Ethan. “It would be morally reprehensible in you to be eager to cause harm.”
Pavel looked at his long fingers arrayed upon the nav-panel. He had been a healer. Now he didn’t know what he was.
He brought the ship to a halt just one street over from the satellite facility.
Quietly, they gathered the few supplies they required. Then the two walking and the one hovering made their way in a silence broken only by the sound, overhead, of large cruisers carrying commuters to or from work. The air was fresh with the nutmeg-scent of something like fossil fuels or perhaps paint thinner. Pavel, who had been hoping to smell kávé, was disappointed. At the corner of a neighboring building, Ethan stopped to wait, leaving him closest to the ship and safety, while the other two proceeded ahead of him.
Ethan had manufactured earpieces similar to those he and Jessamyn had once worn, so that the three could stay in communication with one another.
When Brian Wallace and Pavel reached the narrow food-service entrance in back, it became Wallace’s turn to stay behind while Pavel scouted out the building. Pavel proceeded cautiously around a darkened corner toward the room Ethan would need to access. Having seen no one yet made Pavel nervous rather than confident, but he gave the signal for Ethan to cross the empty lot and enter the building. Wallace remained to stand guard at the entrance.
Vaguely, Pavel wondered if Ethan would feel afraid approaching the place where he’d been captured by Red Squadron Forces. A slow minute ticked past and then Pavel heard the hum of Ethan’s hoverchair.
Shizer, he thought. He hadn’t counted on the noise of Ethan’s mode of transport. The slight whine was a result of a modification Pavel had made to boost power to the chair. Wallace had laughed at what Pavel had done, calling it overkill. Pavel didn’t see how giving a hoverchair the ability to outpace most hoverbikes was a mistake. He’d have wanted it if he were reliant upon a chair to get around.
But the whining sound didn’t give them away; the place seemed abandoned. Ethan appeared and immediately set to work upon a flat panel lining the entire wall of the small room. Pavel consulted a chronometer and then left Ethan so as to stand guard in the hall. The building was eerily silent.
But after some twenty minutes had passed, the quiet hum was joined by the sound of Brian Wallace’s voice in Pavel’s earpiece.
“We’ve got company, lads,” whispered Wallace.
“Shizer!” Pavel muttered, already dashing back to Ethan.
“Visitors! We’ve got to go—now!” whispered Pavel. “This way!”
But Ethan was gliding in a different direction. “Follow me,” Ethan said to Pavel. “I have memorized the floor plans.”
Pavel nodded.
“Grab the back of my chair,” Ethan called softly.
A moment later when Ethan put the hoverchair through its paces, careening madly around corners and down corridors, Pavel understood the genius of having him ride behind. It was faster and quieter than running.
Beyond one open door, Pavel thought he saw a flash of