REDEMPTION TRAIL

Krey glanced at his watch as he nervously paced in front of the statue of The General. The strange woman who approached him earlier had less than five minutes to gather the necessary stores. His heightened feeling of euphoria had gradually diminished to something that resembled nervousness and fear. He was worried that he would not be able to leave UN jurisdiction when his grace period ran outand he did not relish the thought of going to jail.

Cassie was also nervous about the scant time they had in which to launch such an enormous craft. She was seated at a computer station, in the annex next to the Common, where she was diligently working the problem. She had already bypassed the civil computer network's security using her Model 7, and was trying to establish a hard link with the UN mainframe. Although her Model 7 could directly communicate with the UN computer, it did have its limitations.
After several lengthy minutes at the keyboard, the computer finally displayed the message Cassie was waiting to see; `Contact Established, Preforming Integrity Check...'
The integrity check was part of Cassie's illegal software implant. Cassie had programed the implant to check for software changes each time the implant was accessed, which kept her abreast of any changes that might allow UN authorities to detect her activity. After a moment or two, the computer replied with a rare, disheartening message: `Software Modification Detected.'
Cassie thumped a frustrated fist against the front edge of the keyboard. In order to play it safe, she would have to dump several pages of computer codes into her Model 7 and spend hours analyzing its intent. If the changes were installed to look for implant activity, then exercising her implant might alert UN authorities and lead to her arrest. On the other hand, the changes might just be another periodic update to the maze of software that dominates the mainframe, and she could use her implant without fear or worry.
After giving the matter careful consideration, Cassie decided to briefly view the changes in hopes of getting a general idea of their purpose. She quickly displayed the changes on the screen, then spent several precious minutes paging through the data in an effort to determine what part of the system it affected. The more she studied the changes, the more intrigued she became.
It soon became apparent to Cassie that the changes were not changes at allit was another illegal software implant! She had never known anyone, other than herself, who could successfully install such an implant without being detected by UN authorities. In fact, no-one ever managed to install an implant since she started monitoring the mainframe's data nearly a decade ago.
Her intrigue grew as she viewed the implant; it was indeed impressive. It was well hidden and equipped with a suicide routine, which would erase the implant should someone other than its original owner try to operate it. It employed several high-level, sophisticated techniques, some of which Cassie could not immediately recognize. She tried to locate the data tables within the implant; the area that contained text to be displayed to the operator, such as `Contact Established', or `Ready'. To her surprise, she did not find any such text buried among the pages of codes; she assumed that its text must have been encoded to prevent someone from discovering the true nature of the implant.
Cassie decided to go ahead with her original plans and interact with the UN mainframe despite the presence of the other implant. The other implant was illegal anyway and, chances were, its operator would probably not raise an eyebrow to her activities. At least, she hoped that would be the case.
Cassie stored a copy of the implant in her Model 7 for later analysis, then turned her attention to the matter at hand. She entered a series of commands to access the UN operations queue, then began entering the long list of supplies that Krey had requested. When she was finished, she returned the computer to normal, removed her Model 7, then hurried for the door.
The presence of other implant continued to haunt Cassie; it was extremely sophisticated and used techniques that would have pushed her abilities to the limit. She wondered what kind of person might have wrote itand why. She decided that she would analyze the Model 7's copy of the implant at her earliest possible convenience.

Unli's spaceport, which was almost like a community in itself, was located at the far eastern edge of the city. The complex consisted of two huge service hangars, along with fifteen smaller shuttle and refueling hangars, each with its own movable dome. Just to the east of the city, five huge landing pads on pillars rose some thirty feet above the lunar surface. The landing pads were joined to the spaceport's facilities by elevated roadways, which were usually cluttered by giant spaceliners in tow. There were also several ground-level platforms, which were used to store large crafts that were either out of service or in various states of disrepair.
Most of the spaceport's traffic was commercial spaceliners, though several private crafts also used the facility from time to time. Most private vessels, however, were in mooring orbits and their owners had to hire service tugs to ferry them up to their crafts, along with fuel, fresh stores, and whatever luggage or cargo they happen to be carrying.
Three of the shuttle and refueling hangars belonged exclusively to the United Nations; these facilities were used to service vehicles for diplomatic visitors, or to support other UN operations. It was in one of these UN shuttle hangars that a rather odd message appeared on a computer screen.
"Hey, Trellencome look at this one!" The computer operator's eyes gleamed at the screen and its ridiculous demands. "They want a ton of stores ready in five minutes!"
A look of confusion came over his supervisor as he started walking toward the computer terminal.
The computer operator continued with a tone of disbelief, "It says that two agents disguised as convicts will pick the stuff up under the code-name of Exile." He began to chuckle, as if the information was clearly a joke.
The supervisor walked up behind the operator and viewed the data. After scrutinizing the screen for a moment or two, he pointed to a request code in the upper corner of the screen.
"This is no joke," he said in a firm, authoritative voice. "This code means that the order was dispatched by UN Secret Servicesthey're expecting this stuff in five minutes. They're even requesting a priority departure clearance. You better fire up a robot and get a service tug loaded."
"What are they refueling with all this stuffa fleet?"
"I don't know," the supervisor shrugged, "But I remember the last time we dropped the ball on one of these ordersthere was hell to pay. Nowget off your butt and order the robots to load a service tug."

Cassie had one last chore to tend to before she could meet Krey at the statue. She hurried down a row of storage lockers, which lined an isolated, dead-end corridor not far from the Common, and frantically searched for the one that she had rented. Once she spotted her locker, she hurried up to it, then plugged her Model 7 into an auxiliary slot on its door.
A relieved smile came to Cassie's face as the door popped open and revealed her most prized possession. Her face beamed with delight as she reached into the locker like a child reaching into a toy chest. She pulled out a metal case, which was about the size of a small suitcase, then eagerly tucked it under an arm as she slammed the locker and removed her Model 7 from the door.
Cassie thought about opening the case and checking its contents, but decided that the corridor lacked sufficient privacy for her liking. She cuddled the cold metal case for a brief moment, as if it were a Teddy Bear, then started down the corridor toward the Common.
It was not the case that had Cassie so delighted, but its contents. Inside, as far as she was concerned, were treasures beyond any possible measure. No living being, other than her, knew what was in the case or even that it existed. She often thought of the pressure-tight, nuclear-hardened case as her toy boxfor in it were the toys of a genius.

Krey was incredibly anxious as he watched Cassie walking toward him from a corridor that spilled out into the Common. He looked down at his watch; they only had forty-five minutes to launch RQ-733 and get out of UN jurisdiction. The UN was very explicit about the grace period associated with Provision 1292; it was like trying to elude the IRS. At exactly one minute after the grace period, the cufflets would lock together and UN agents would be on their way to apprehend him.
He looked up at Cassie, who was walking toward him with her case in hand.
"Did you get the stuff?" Krey's voice was anxious.
"Everything's ready." She motioned toward the subway terminal, "We better hurrytime is running out."
A relieved smile came to Krey's face as they started for the subway terminal at a trot; he didn't actually think that Cassie could come up with such a formidable list of stores in such a short time. That relieved smile, however, was certainly tempered with caution; it would take at least four minutes to get to the spaceport, then who knows how long they might wait on the pad for clearance. After that, they still had to make the ascent up to the mooring orbit. All-in-all, they could conceivably use up the remainder of the grace period just trying to get to RQ-733, much less launch it.
They stepped into the subway terminal next to the Common, were two other people, a man and a woman, were waiting for a car. The woman smiled at Cassie as she walked up to the dispatch board to request a car. However, when Cassie pushed a button labeled `Spaceport', the lady noticed her cufflets, then her smile changed to a sneer as she pointed her nose in the air. Cassie took little notice.
A moment or two later, a driverless car, which resembled a fully-enclosed golf cart, came up a ramp from somewhere beneath the city. The prudish lady and her escort climbed into the car, then the car descended down another ramp into the mass transit maze below the city. Krey waited until the car was gone before he resumed their conversation.
"How did you manage to get all that stuff together in such a short time?"
Cassie kept her attention directed at the up ramp and watched for their car, rather than looking at Krey.
"Like I saidI have a friend that owes me a favor."
Krey found her behavior to be a little odd, perhaps even rude, but decided to give her the benefit of a doubt. After all, they were pushing a ridiculous schedule.
"I certainly want to thank you," Krey said with a happy, delighted smile, "If not for you I'd be going to jail and probably"
"Here comes our car," she interrupted in a flat, indifferent tone.
They stood in silence as the subway car climbed the ramp and slowed to a stop. A door opened on the side of the car, then Cassie stepped in, followed by Krey. Once they were seated, the door closed, then the car began to move down the ramp.
"Looks like we'll be helping each other out for a while," Krey said in an awkward tone of voice. He was generally a little more clever with opening lines, but Cassie seemed to have him at somewhat of a disadvantage; all he wanted to do was break the ice.
Cassie remained silent as she turned her head to look out the window. They had descended to the mass transit network and their car was gaining speed to merge with the other robotic traffic.
Cassie was not being intentionally rude, she was simply trying to avoid conversation. She learned a long time ago that engaging in conversation was risky business. When people talked to her they often picked up on the fact that she was intelligent, and Cassie was determined to hide her case of Tripolean Syndromeno matter what the cost.
They had already merged with the high-speed traffic, which was racing down a lighted corridor beneath the city. The corridor held three lanes of tightly-packed traffic, which the robotic cars negotiated with impeccable accuracy. Cars often traveled at speed of up to 80 miles per hour, while maintaining only inches of clearance between cars to the front, rear, and sides.
After a minute or two of silence, Krey decided to hazard another attempt at talking to the lovely young woman, who would accompany him on a long, isolated journey through the vast, empty void of space.
"I'm looking forward to this flight," he said with a smile. "It's been four years since I took my ship through the time barrier, and I'm kind'a anxious to do it again."
The uneasy smile persisted on his face as he waited for her reply. Cassie, however, did not move; she remained silent as she looked out the window.
"Have you ever been through the time barrier before?" he asked.
Cassie turned to look at him, then replied in a flat, unmoved voice.
"You talk too much."
She returned to the business of looking out the window.
Silence persisted for the remainder of the trip. Krey's vision of sharing many intimate moments with the lovely young stranger were quickly eroding into dust. Worse than that, he could hardly imagine being locked up in a spacecraft with someone as antisocial and rude as her. He too, eventually turned his attention out of his window and scowled as he mindlessly watched the corridor zip by only inches beyond the glass.
Cassie was extremely uneasy, though it hardly shown. She spent most of her time in isolation and seldom spent more than ten or twenty minutes with any one person. She was extremely nervous about being in close quarters with a perfect stranger, and worried that her secret might eventually become known. She struggled to hold back a frightened tear as her nervous hands clutched the metal case, which was tightly nestled in her lap.

The silence of the subway car was finally broken as the car crawled up a ramp at the spaceport.
"Just follow my lead and don't say anything," Cassie whispered.
A look of confusion came over Krey's face; the comment struck him as odd, though he was a little too naive to suspect that anything underhanded was about to take place.
Krey was distracted from his thoughts when the car came to a stop and the door opened. He stepped out of the subway car into the spaceport terminal, followed by Cassie and her case. The door closed behind them, then the car began to crawl down the ramp as it pressed on with its business. Cassie motioned toward the UN section of the terminal.
"This way, hurry."
She started off across a wide, open lobby, which was lined with several commercial and private terminals. Krey was quick to follow in her footsteps.
Krey had definitely begun to feel uneasy about his new travel partner. He looked at the assertive, arrogant way she walked, as if she happened to be sole heir to the entire human realm. She said that a friend owed her a favor; he wondered who could possibly befriend such a hard womanas well as what kind of favor they might have owed her. He began to wonder what he might be getting intoand how deep.
They walked up to a reception counter near the UN terminals, which was seldom plagued with long lines like the other terminals. The smartly-dressed lady on the other side of the counter looked down at their cufflets in disgust, though her voice remained polite and soft.
"May I help you?"
Cassie replied with a single word.
"Exile."
The lady stretched out an arm to a door marked, `UN Personnel Only.'
"This way, please."
A nervous, eerie feeling ran down Krey's back as he followed Cassie through the door. He could somehow sense that they were doing something wrong. However, he noticed that Cassie did not seem to be the least bit uneasy; he managed to convince himself that everything was above board and proper.
They followed the receptionist across a vast warehouse area stacked with metal drums and crates.
"You'll have to hurry," the lady said in a soft, polite voice. "Your priority clearance was approvedyou have a thirty second window in three minutes. That will be just enough time to board, de- pressurize the hangar, and deploy the dome."
The receptionist escorted Cassie and Krey up to a door marked with a huge, yellow `B'. "Hangar B, service tug 1136." She handed Cassie a small computer module, which was about the size of her Model 7, "Good luck."
"Thank you," Cassie replied as she accepted the module.
The receptionist turned to leave as Cassie slipped the computer module into a slot on the door. The door opened to reveal a vast, circular hangar some 250 feet in diameter. Cassie removed the module, then stepped inside.
Krey followed Cassie into the hangar, then the door closed behind them. He looked at his watch; they only had thirty-five minutes to launch RQ-733. He looked up as Cassie pointed out their tug among the other six that were parked in the hangar, "There it is1136." She started toward the service tug with Krey close behind.
The service tugs were, by no means, sleek or impressive. They were hardly more than forty to forty-five feet long, fifteen feet high, fifteen feet wide, and had the aerodynamics of a loaf of bread. The tug rested on three short, stubby landing struts, each of which supported four small tires for maneuvering the craft on the ground. Two huge, massive engines dominated the rear, while four smaller, maneuvering engines were mounted on the bottom. About one third of the tug was consumed by its fuel tanks and engine, with the bulk of the remainder being cargo area. The twelve-passenger crew compartment was mounted on top of the tug, which almost made it look like some kind of after- market add-on. A long, mobile staircase was parked next to the tug, which allowed access to its crew compartment.
As Cassie and Krey started up the steps, Krey could not help but wonder what kind of connections Cassie had; what kind of strings did she have to pull to get such royal treatment? He still couldn't shake the feeling that they were doing something wrong, but no-one seemed to be stopping them or even raising an eyebrow. By the time they reached the tug's access hatch, Krey was beginning to wonder what was so special about this strange woman; was she a diplomat's daughter or something? He thought about what his attorney had said; that someone was trying to set him up.
Cassie opened the tug's hatch and stepped in. Krey followed Cassie into the tug, then quickly looked around at the empty seats in the crew compartment.
"Where's the pilot?"
"I'm the pilot." Cassie replied as she stowed her case in one of the lockers. "Go ahead, strap yourself in."
Krey planted himself in a seat next to the pilot's controls, then fished around for various pieces of the flight harness. As he strapped himself in, he could not help feeling somewhat apprehensive about the upcoming flight.
He wondered about the strange woman he suddenly found himself stuck with. His illusions of many tender, intimate moments had completely disappeared and were replaced with the uncertainty laid down by her rigid, assertive personality; he felt like he was being manipulated.
After giving the matter some thought, a sinister, devious smile came to Krey's face; once they reach RQ- 733, they would be on his turfhe was the captain. His smile grew as he thought about the prospect; once they were on his ship, no one could tell him what to do.