anny, motioning to Brad. One by one, they
squeezed through, and found themselves at the foot
of a flex-ladder. Drummer climbed; they followed.

They emerged through a manhole into a kiosk next
to a transit strip. Darting from the kiosk Drummer
boarded the strip and nodded back to Brad to join
him. Within moments they were all gliding toward
an air lock leading to the outside.

Entering the air lock, they hurried into space
suits from the public service rack, checked each
other's seals and oxygen reserves, tested the
communications and pressurization systems and
crowded into the pressure-equalization chamber. Air
lock and suit pressures up, balanced and checked,
Drummer jerked a lever and, a moment later, they
ducked under the rising panel to the outside.

Running along the ramp Drummer flashed his suit
lamps at a parked robo-taxi. The signal activated
the craft and it was in ready status when they
reached it. Boarding first, Drummer keyed in
coordinates. As the last Sentinel scrambled through
the hatch he hit the lift button. The taxi rose and
curved away.

Chapter THIRTEEN

The black skies and drab mounds of Planet Pluto
were spotted with color. From where he stood on
Drummer's enclosed patio, Brad looked through
the transparent shields at ice-gray Charon low
over scarred ridges to the west. Shifting his
eyes slightly brought into focus the panorama of
Coldfield's dome and its multi-colored lights. The
orange-green cylinder of the Slingshot Logistics
Depot gleamed in the black sky.

The Fandango force field around the depot
shimmered. A wide gap separated the transports
loading and unloading at the portals inside the
force field from those outside waiting in line
or in clustered formations until moorings inside
became available.

The short taxi ride from Coldfield had been
uneventful. The formalities of introductions behind
them, the host and his guests had refreshed
themselves, dined and rested.

Drummer joined Brad and followed his gaze to the
orange-green cylinder and its gaggle of transports
and tugs. The silence was brief.

Drummer said, "I've had your ship searched."

Brad shrugged, eyes scanning the scene outside, and
replied dryly, "Hope it was worth your while. To us,
it was transportation. Any old tub would have done.
As it turned out, we were lucky."

"I'll accept that it's an 'old tub'. I gathered as
much from the reports I received," Drummer said,
"but I understand the