By Norman Spinrad
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Extra info for Agent of Chaos
The asteroid's orbit carried it several degrees above the ecliptic, and much closer to Jupiter than the other rocks in the Belt. It was a tiny worldlet, about a mile in diameter, and there were thousands of other asteroids just like it. It was worthless, useless, and far, far off the normal shipping lanes between Mars and the Jovian satellites. By all the logic of economics, logistics and astrogation, it would remain unused forever. Therefore, it was inhabited. But the habitation was indetectable from space, for all the installations were underground—in fact, it would be more accurate to think of the asteroid 51 as a building, since chambers and passageways and droptubes honeycombed it completely.
The Guards were pinned down too—Johnson lifted the barrel of his lasegun over the lip of the platform and got off a quick blind shot—but the Guards could expect reinforcements. "We've got to get out of h e r e . . " Johnson muttered. " Rhee said beside him. " Over the hiss of the laseguns, Johnson could sense a faint, far-off rumble, a rumble that was felt more than heard, approaching like a pressure-wave up the tunnel. " he said. "Half of you head south, rest of you come north with me. As soon as you come to a branch tunnel, split up again.
The medallions bore the letter "G" raised above a blackened background. Although the table was perfectly round, one man, it seemed to Duntov, made the place at which he sat the head of the table by his very presence at it. He was old, how old Duntov could not tell, for his long, thin hair was still black and his copper skin had carefully leathered into a neat network of a million tiny wrinkles. His deep black eyes were but vaguely oriental, but his high, blunt cheekbones made his ancestry clear.
Agent of Chaos by Norman Spinrad