Ghost Legion Read Online Free PDF Page B

telegraphed his disapproval, but he was prevented
from saying anything until he ended the conversation.
    "Urgent communique coming in for you, my lord. Your personal
access code."
    Dixter frowned, stuffed the napkin in the water glass, and headed for
the commlink room. Very few people in the galaxy had access to the
admiral's personal access code, which provided the highest level of
security available. An urgent message from one of them boded nothing
good.
    Entering the commlink room—located adjacent to his
office—Dixter dismissed the personnel working there, shut and
sealed the door. Bennett, with a long-suffering sigh, remained behind
in the general's office to mop up the spilled water.
    Dixter gave his identification, provided voice and hand print and DNA
scan to gain access to the message. The descrambling took several
seconds, during which the general waited with grim patience. He had a
good idea who was calling and wished he'd thought to take an antacid
tablet after breakfast.
    A man's face appeared on the vidscreen—a bald head,
acid-splashed skin, overhanging forehead, and deep, shadowed eyes—one
real, one cybernetic. The burning sensation in Dixter's stomach
increased.
    Xris nodded curtly as Dixter's image registered on the cyborg's own
screen. No preliminary, time-wasting formalities for the cyborg. He
was direct and to the point.
    "Something took the bait, boss."
    "They made an attempt? Did you catch them?"
    Xris grimaced. "You might say they ended up catching us, boss.
Swallowed us hook, line, pole, and boat. The good news is you were
right on two counts—you've got a leak and someone is after the
bomb. The bad news is—they found it. Something entered the
vault. Took the bomb."
    Dixter stared, shocked. "Good God, man! That's not possible! And
you let them get away—"
    Xris grunted. "Hold on, boss. You've got to hear me out.
    You'll get my full report in writing, but I thought I better deliver
it first in person. Let you know I'm sober."
    Dixter attempted to contain his impatience. "What happened?"
    Reaching into his pocket, the cyborg drew out a twist, stuck it in
his mouth, lit it.
    "We made the transfer, moved the space-rotation bomb from the
palace to Snaga Ohme's. You know how it went from your end. Top
secret. Same from ours. As you and I arranged, Raoul let it be known
among certain circles here on Laskar that he was for sale. A couple
of people wanted to buy, but they turned out to be just after
information on new product lines.
    "Then we hit dirt. These guys weren't interested in the latest
in plasma grenade launchers. They wanted blueprints of the house,
details about the security systems. Raoul gave them the stuff, enough
of it real to look good to an expert. Not real enough to use. I don't
know why they needed it. Any of it." Xris drew in smoke. "Waste
of their money, our time."
    "Obviously not," said Dixter dryly. "It worked for
them. You must have made a mistake, Xris, given them too much real
information."
    The cyborg snorted, blew smoke through his nose. "I don't get
paid to make mistakes, boss. Hell, I could have given them a layout
of the inside of Raoul's head and it would have been one and the
same. Take a look at the monitor readings. They should be coming
through by now."
    Dixter walked over to another machine, studied the information that
was being transmitted hallway across the galaxy.
    He stared at it, frowned. "Print it," he ordered the
computer, unwilling to believe what he saw on the screen.
    The printout was no different, however. He studied it wordlessly,
then looked back at the cyborg. "If it were any other man, I'd
say you were seeing ghosts...."
    "Ghosts." Xris stubbed the end of the twist out on the
console. "Funny you should mention ghosts. Look, if it makes you
feel any better, boss, we didn't believe it either. We figured, like
you are, probably, that the equipment must have malfunctioned. We
checked it, more than once. It's working