Scott Cleveland - Pale Boundaries

“It’s too bad the scans can’t distinguish between vessels,” Tamara said thoughtfully.

“We’re not interested in the submarine,” Hal said darkly. “We want the identity of the man it’s carrying. Although,” he wondered aloud, “why would Den Tun bring a gaijin all the way from Alpha?”

“Perhaps,” Dayuki offered, “the gaijin did not come from the Alpha continent.”

Hal sighed; yet another assumption lacking empirical substance brought to light. They continued to operate on preconceived notions of what Den Tun and the Minzoku were capable of—notions consistently proven incorrect. If that didn’t stop immediately the Onjin would continue to fail in their efforts to anticipate Den Tun’s actions.

“Backtrack the sub,” he said. The origin of the gaijin might give some clue to his identity.

“It appears to be the one the Minzoku had on picket duty at the crash site,” McKeon reported a few minutes later. He highlighted the location and let the data run forward in time. “It headed east from there for several hours before turning west again, back toward the crash. It cruised around in circles for several days before heading for the pens.”

“So it didn’t go anywhere near Alpha.”

“No, sir.”

Hal rubbed his face. I’m missing something . Maybe the assumption that the gaijin in question had entered the base with the submarine was also incorrect. There were gaijin criminals living on Beta; maybe it was one of them, and the subsequent lockdown of the servants was simply coincidental to the arrival of the sub. That didn’t make much sense either—why recall a vessel to transport someone when there were already others in port? Unless that was the point: dispatching another vessel on short notice might draw attention or start rumors, but secretly recalling one already at sea left no such trail.

Hal stared at the sector map, eyes following the submarine’s course. The vessel steamed straight and true from the crash site toward Alpha until the captain appeared to change his mind and headed back for Beta. Along the way indecision set in, compelling him to orbit in an ever-expanding spiral until finally settling on a course back to port. Comprehension struck with a wave of triumph. “They’re looking for someone!” Hal exclaimed, pointing at the spiral. “They picked the gaijin up at sea.”

“But there’s nothing else out there,” McKeon frowned. “No aircraft, no ships.”

“There might have been earlier. Reverse the timeline again, but stay with this sector.”

The Minzoku submarine’s icon raced out of frame, leaving vacant ocean for several days until, suddenly, a tiny target appeared out of nowhere just about the center of the sub’s search pattern and swept eastward at high speed toward the Alphan coast.

“It’s an aircraft of some kind flying right on the deck without a transponder or GBST beacon,” McKeon said. He ran the scan forward again. The aircraft flew back into frame then suddenly slowed, stopped, and vanished. “It almost looks like he ditched—just a second.” He strode to his station to consult a file and returned with a grim look on his face. “That thing appeared right about where our Federal source said Reilly’s boat went down.”

Hal stared at him dumbfounded, face blushing with anger. “They told us he was dead. They assured us he was dead!”

“He was, to their way of thinking,” McKeon shrugged helplessly. “He would be if the Minzoku hadn’t picked him up.”

Hal fought the urge to hurl a chair into the screen. “And why,” he choked out, “would the Minzoku pick him up? Take a wild guess!” McKeon faltered, unsure which would infuriate his boss more: silence or the wrong answer.

“The Tiger Opal,” Dayuki said with surprising assurance. “Den Tun lied about its loss. He recovered it from the wreckage but left it on the bottom of the sea for his gaijin lackeys to recover later.”

“But Den Tun reported them to us,” McKeon objected.

“Covering his bases, knowing that we might detect them independently,” Hal decided. “He made excuses not to take them out, remember? He assumed that they’d make it back to Alpha before we got to them.”

“But he was mistaken,” Dayuki said proudly.

“Very mistaken,” Hal agreed. “Reilly may not have had it before, but you can bet the farm he’s got it now,” he said, stabbing a finger at the overhead monitor, “and it’s right there!” Or was, considering what the old maid told Dayuki. If Reilly and the Tiger Opal left the same way they arrived there might still be time to intercept them.

McKeon reset the display to the point that the submarine carrying Reilly entered the pens and resumed the playback. The vessels parked off the coast entered the pens, joined by stragglers arriving over the next several hours. Nothing departed during that time and Hal could imagine the chaos inside as the pens grew more cramped with each addition. The logic behind the tactic was as obvious as it was frustrating to watch when Den Tun finally made his move: dozens of subs exited simultaneously and scattered, all heading in the general direction of the Alpha continent.

“Show us where they are now,” Hal sighed. McKeon brought up the live feed showing the flotilla mere hours from the gaijin coast, evenly dispersed along the continent’s entire length.

“There’s no way we can intercept them all,” Tamara declared unnecessarily.

“No kidding,” Hal growled. Instead of getting a step ahead of Den Tun he found himself half a step behind with no conceivable way to catch up. “Continue monitoring,” he said. There was always a chance that something might give away which sub carried Reilly and the Tiger Opal.

Hal fumed on the way back to his quarters considering what form of vengeance might satisfy his anger at the duplicitous old bastard who had made a complete and utter fool of him. The call light on the com panel was already lit when he and Dayuki arrived.

“We need you back at the command post,” Tamara apologized. “We have another problem.”

“What the hell is it now?” Hal snapped angrily.

Cirilo raised an eyebrow. “I can’t discuss it over this circuit,” she replied evenly. “That’s why you need to come to the command post.”

The main overhead screen displayed a satellite view of Alpha continent’s northern peninsula when Hal and Dayuki entered. Dozens of aircraft icons speckled the display, most headed more or less southeast, apparently out of the path of a strong weather front moving in from the ocean. Tamara indicated the screen. “This is restricted airspace over the Great Northern Preserve,” she said. “There shouldn’t be so many aircraft in there, and more keep popping up as the storm gets closer.”

“EPEA?” Hal asked with a frown.

Tamara shook her head. “This is pre-edited data. This is what the gaijin are receiving.” Another image appeared on the secondary screen, identical to the first in every way but for one detail—no GPST icons. “They’re using blocking transponders.”

Hal couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. Den Tun’s gaijin connection was the single most obvious organization on the planet, one that had operated with the blessing of both the Family and the Federal authorities for years: “Sorenson!”

“Who is this So-Ren- san?” Dayuki asked.

“Our front,” Hal explained. “We’ve given them a few blanking transponders over the years to facilitate moving our merchandise off-world, but not nearly this many. The devices are supposed to be impervious to reproduction.” Apparently Sorenson Exports had done so. Their presence in the Preserve pointed to poaching, a matter of no particular interest to the Onjin except for the risk of discovery by the EPEA. The blanking transponders masked boats and aircraft from orbital detection but the radar of individual EPEA aircraft were not susceptible to the transponder’s magic.