They all heard the sound of running feet, then the door burst in and Jake Chernoff erupted into the office.

“Sir, sorry, sir,” the young man cried, his face flushed, his chest heaving from exertion. “Your phone—” He pointed excitedly at the receiver in the admiral’s hand. “Too important. Scanners at met—something blasted off from Oslo Landing, three minutes ago—and it wasn’t a sled. Too small.”

As one, Paul, Emily, and Ezra made for the door and ran to the interface chamber. Ezra fumbled at the terminal in his haste to implement the program. An exhaust trail was plainly visible, on a northwestern heading. Cursing under his breath, Ezra switched to the Yoko’s monitor, which was tracking the blip. For a long moment they watched, rigid with fury and frustration. Then Ezra straightened his long frame, his hands hanging limply.

“Well, what’s done’s done.”

“Not completely,” Emily said, her voice harsh as she separated each syllable in a curious lilt. She turned to Paul, her eyes very bright, her lips pursed, and her expression implacable. “Oslo Landing, hmmm? That capsule was just launched. Let’s go get the buggers.”

Leaving Ezra to monitor the capsule’s ascent, Paul and Emily left at a run. The first three big men they encountered on their way to the grid were commandeered to assist. Paul spotted Fulmar and told him to pilot Kenjo’s augmented sled.

“Don’t ask questions, Fulmar,” Paul said, peremptorily seconding two more burly technicians. “Just head us toward Jordan, and everyone keep their eyes open for sled traffic.” He reached for the comm unit as he shrugged into his harness. “Who’s in the tower? Tarrie? I want to know who’s in the air above the river, where they’re going, and where they’ve been.”

Fulmar took off in such a steep climb that for a moment the noise blanketed any answer Tarrie Chernoff gave.

“Only one sled above the Jordan, sir, apart from that—other flight.” She choked on her words and then recovered the impersonal reserve of a comm officer. “The sled does not acknowledge.”

“They will,” Paul assured her grimly. “Continue to monitor all traffic in that area.”

Tubberman was just stupid enough to be obvious, but somehow Paul did not think that such stupidity was a trait of Stev Kimmer or whomever else Ted had talked into such an arrant abrogation of the democratic decision of the colony.

Tubberman was alone in the sled when Fulmar forced him to land in the riverside desolation of the ill-fated Bavaria Stake. He was unrepentant as he faced them, folding his arms across his chest and jutting his chin out defiantly.

“I’ve done what should have been done,” he stated in pompous righteousness. “The first step in saving this colony from annihilation.”

Paul clenched his fists tightly to his sides. Beside him, Emily was vibrating with a fury as intense as his own.