Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [112]
“Not at all,” Jackson replied, wishing he could be more cheerful. “But this is the best idea I’ve been able to come up with. Nice work.” The LT picked up one of the cloths, folding it and tucking it into the pocket of his coveralls. “I’ll give the other one to Master Chief Ruiz when he gets back.”
As if on cue, the other two members of the detachment came up to join them. “I think we found a place that’ll work, LT,” the master chief said. “There’s an empty storage locker about twenty meters away from the door to the prisoners’ quarters. Harry was able to pick the lock, and it’s just big enough for our needs.”
“All right,” the officer said, glad for the chance to do something. He nodded at the small duffel bag Ruiz was carrying. “And that?”
The Puerto Rican smiled tightly. “Two Eluoi uniforms, sir, carefully sized to fit Teal and Baxter. Their original owners, um, don’t have any further need for clothing.”
Jackson nodded; he didn’t need to hear any more details to know that his men had accomplished the task he had asked them to do.
“Any luck on getting through to the frigate, sir?” the master chief asked.
Jackson only shook his head in disgust. Then he handed the cloth, with its weave of copper wires, across the table. “But here; Baxter made this. I’ve got one, too. We’ll put them on when we get into our pressure suits.”
If they made it that far in the plan, he thought disgustedly. “Dammit, this is a helluva time for my comlink to fail!”
“We found something that might be useful,” Ruiz said. “They have a communications center, a commercial one, about half a klick from here. You go in and pay your credits, and then you have access to a high-power radio, kind of like a phone booth to the rest of the star system.”
“Well, that might be worth checking out,” the LT said. He was reluctant to trust a commercial circuit with his military communication but was forced to face the fact that his personal comlink didn’t seem to have the power he needed. “I’ll keep it in mind. For now, let’s get started with Operation Dry Cleaner.”
The name was only partially humorous, he reflected, as the four SEALS, still disguised in the maintenance coveralls they had been wearing all around the Bazaar, made their way to the service center where they had spotted the technician’s garage and laundry service on their first reconnaissance. As usual, the outer door was open, with workers in laundry whites and denim coveralls continually moving in and out. One of the laundry trains was just returning, the small tractor cart pulling a series of five trailers heaped with dirty linens.
Jackson and his SEALS boldly followed that train as it turned into the steamy corridor of the laundry installation. A dozen workers were tending large machines. They were folding a variety of cleaned products, including sheets, blankets, and many maintenance and service personnel uniforms, and maneuvering a second train out of the way while the newly arriving vehicles moved up to a large table. There several women, female Eluoi, to judge by the coarse hair and greenish eyes, waited to unload them.
The LT was holding a small gauge in his hand and made a prominent display of watching the dial.
“Hold it!” he barked in a tone that invited no argument. “We have a potential radiation hazard here!” He gestured to the pile of laundry that had just come in. “Don’t panic, but clear out of here until we give the all-clear. Let’s see if there’s any real danger.”
The workers didn’t need to be asked twice; every one of them ran toward the exit at the front or back of the laundry section. Within thirty seconds, the four SEALS were alone.
Moving quickly, the Teammates put the plan into action. Ruiz disconnected all but one of the cars being hauled by the tractor pulling the empty carts. Then he hopped into the driver’s seat, and started over toward