Bunch, Chris - Star Risk 1 by Bunch Chris

Author:Bunch, Chris
Language: eng
Format: epub

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It occupied three offices in a nondescript, very modern office building in one of Trygve's outlying business districts.

The offices had a small sign: ALLIANCE PLANETARY LIAISON. A truly suspicious mind might have wondered why these offices were kilometers away from the Alliance consul.

Chas Goodnight had a truly suspicious mind.

It was about time, he thought, for APL to change its name, since there must be more people than just Goodnight who knew the Liaison was one of the many covers for Alliance Intelligence.

It was near midnight, and he trundled down the building's corridor, towing an antigrav lift with brooms, mops, and other cleaning tools.

Goodnight wore coveralls with maintenance services stitched on the back.

He knew no one ever looked at a janitor, let alone remembered one. The sleepy guard at the desk on the ground floor had barely glanced at him when he signed in.

The Liaison offices were locked, and Goodnight took a few seconds to make sure no one was inside, working late.

He still had a few scruples left, after all.

Goodnight turned the power on the lifter off outside the door, reached under the top tray, and flicked an old-fashioned switch. He still didn't entirely trust pressure sensors that, he felt, could flip back the other way or do other strange things. The solid click was a reassurance to him.

He went back down to the lift unhurriedly. He had plenty of time.

Goodnight had a bit of luck—the security desk wasn't manned. The guard must've gone to use the facilities, or out for a beer.

Goodnight didn't care.

He went out to where his stolen, small cargo lifter was parked.

Goodnight took off, and followed the traffic signs for a few blocks, then climbed into one of the highspeed lanes.

It was raining heavily.

Goodnight flew to a low knoll he'd picked out a day earlier, grounded the lifter.

He should have ditched the rig and walked back to his hotel, but Goodnight liked to see the results of his craftsmanship.

They came in half an hour.

He'd gotten a pair of stabilized binocs from the glove box, and was patiently watching the business district.

The building he'd left bucked, and flames seared out. The blast wave reached him less than a minute later.

Chas Goodnight reached over his shoulder, and patted himself on the back.

Certainly nobody else was there to do it. So now it was time to turn his transponder back on.

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