Federated Worlds Courier Ship Spacerunner, pinchspace
“Thank you, Michael. You’ve been most helpful. You understand how sensitive this all is, so I’m going to put a neuronics block on it for the moment. Once the Hammer’s part in all this is in the public domain, then it’ll be lifted. Until then, I’ve classified it as top secret-no foreign eyes. Okay?”
Michael nodded. “Fine by me, sir.” He had expected to face a Fleet debriefing team, but he was pretty sure that neither of the two men who had sat patiently listening to his account of what had happened since the Ishaq had been destroyed was Fleet. He thought they were spooks, Department 24 most likely.
“Okay. That’s it. We’ll be dropping soon, so you can go and get ready for that bit of fun and games.”
“Thank you, sir.” Michael was gone in a flash.
The two men waited until the door hissed shut behind Michael. The older of the two got up and started to pace up and down. “What a bloody mess,” he said.
“More than a mess,” the second man replied. “I’m no lawyer, but the Barkersville police station attack is a problem. Legally, it’s murder. No argument.”
“I’m afraid it is. Anyway, that’s for someone else to sort out. I would hate to be the person who puts Helfort in the dock for murdering two Hammers, even if it was in cold blood. The great unwashed would have me hanging from a lamppost in no time flat. Christ! The pollies are going to shit themselves when this little mess comes home to roost.”
“They are, by God. You know what? I don’t think I would have done anything different.”
“Nor me. Bloody Hammers. Come on, enough navel gazing. We’ve got a report to write.”