static, which was a highly compressed message or signal of some sort, Yalson started to turn back
to Balveda. At the same moment Horza
leapt forward, taking his hand off the cabin door handle and bringing the heavy stun
gun round to bear on Balveda. The Culture woman was
already dropping the kitbag, one hand flashing—so fast even Horza could
hardly follow the movement—down to her side. Horza threw himself
into the space between Yalson and the corridor bulkhead,
knocking the woman mercenary to one side. At the same time, with the big stun gun
pointing straight at Balveda’s face, he
pulled the trigger. The weapon hummed in his hand as he continued forward, dropping. He tried to keep
the gun pointing at
Balveda’s head all the way down. He hit the deck just before the sagging Culture agent did.
Yalson was still staggering back after being thumped against the far bulkhead. Horza lay on the deck watching Balveda’s feet
and legs for a
second, then he quickly scrambled up, saw Balveda move groggily, her red-haired head scraping on the deck surface,
her dark eyes opening
briefly. He pulled the stun-gun trigger again, keeping it depressed and pointing the gun at the woman’s
head. She shook spastically for a
second, saliva drooling from one corner of her mouth, then went limp. The red bandanna rolled
off her head.
“Are you crazy." Yalson screamed. Horza turned to her.
“Her name isn’t Gravant; it’s Perosteck Balveda, and she’s an agent in the Culture’s Special Circumstances section. That’s
their
euphemism for Military Intelligence, in case you didn’t know," he said. Yalson was backed up almost to the mess-room
entrance, her eyes full of
fear, her hands clutching at the surface of the bulkhead on either side of her. Horza went up to
her. She shrank from him, and he sensed her
getting ready to strike out. He stopped short of her, turned the stun gun round
and handed it to her, grip first. “If you don’t believe me we’ll
probably all end up dead," he said, edging the gun forward
toward her hands. She took it eventually. “I’m serious," he told her. “Search her for
weapons. Then get her into the mess
and strap her into a seat. Tie her hands down, tight. And her legs. Then strap in yourself. We’ve leaving; I’ll
explain later."
He started to go past her, then he turned and looked into her eyes.
“Oh, and keep stunning her every now and again, on maximum power. Special Circumstancers are
very
tough." He turned and went toward
the mess room. He heard the stun gun click.
“Kraiklyn," Yalson said.
He stopped and turned round again. She was pointing the gun straight at him, holding it in both hands and level with his eyes.
Horza sighed
and shook his head.
“Don’t," he said.
“What about Horza."
“He’s safe. I swear it. But he’ll be dead if we don’t get out of here now.
And
if she wakes up." He nodded past Yalson at the long, inert form
of Balveda. He turned again, then walked into the mess, the
back of his head and the nape of his neck tingling with anticipation.
Nothing happened. Dorolow looked up from the table and said, “What was that noise." as Horza went past.
“What noise." Horza said as he went through to the bridge.
Yalson watched Kraiklyn’s back as he walked through the mess room. He said something to Dorolow, then he was through to the
bridge.
She let the stun gun down slowly; it hung in one hand. She looked at the gun thoughtfully and said to herself, quietly,
“Yalson, my girl, there are
times when I think you’re a little too loyal." She raised the gun again as the cabin door opened
just a crack and a small voice said, “Is it
safe
out
there yet."
Yalson grimaced, pushed the door open and looked at the drone, which was retreating further into the cabin. She nodded her
head to the
side and said, “Get out here and give me a hand with this bod, you liverless piece of clockwork."
“Wake up!" Horza kicked Wubslin’s leg as he swung back into his chair. Aviger was sitting in the third seat in the flight
deck, looking anxiously
at the screens and controls. Wubslin jumped, then looked round with bleary eyes.
“Eh." he said, then: “I was just resting my eyes."
Horza pulled out the
CAT
’s manual controls from their recess in the edge of the console. Aviger looked at them with apprehension.
“Just how hard did you knock your head." he said to Horza.
Horza smiled coldly at him. He scanned the screens as fast as he could and threw the safety switches on the ship’s fusion
motors. He tried
traffic control once more. The Smallbay was still dark. The outside pressure gauge registered zero. Wubslin
was talking to himself as he
checked over the craft’s monitoring systems.
“Aviger," Horza said, not looking at the older man, “I think you’d better strap in."
“What for." Aviger asked quietly, measuredly. “We can’t go anywhere. We can’t move. We’re stuck here until a tug arrives to
take us out,
aren’t we."
“Of course we are," Horza said, adjusting the readying controls of the fusion motors and putting the ship leg controls on
automatic. He
turned and looked at Aviger. “Tell you what; why don’t you go and get that new recruit’s kitbag. Take it down
to the hangar and shove it into a
vactube."
“What." Aviger said, his already creased face becoming more lined as he frowned. “I thought she was leaving."
“She was, but whoever is trying to keep us in here started evacuating the air from the Smallbay before she could get off.
Now I want you to
take her kitbag and all the other gear she may have left lying around and stow it in a vactube,
all right.
"
Aviger got up from the seat slowly, looking at Horza with a tense, worried expression on his face. “All right." He started
to leave the bridge,
then hesitated, looking back at Horza. “Kraiklyn, why am I putting her kitbag in the vactube."
“Because there’s almost certainly a very powerful bomb in it; that’s why. Now get down there and
do it.
"
Aviger nodded and left, looking even less happy. Horza turned back to the controls. They were almost ready. Wubslin was still
talking to
himself and hadn’t strapped in properly, but he seemed to be doing his part competently enough, despite frequent
belches and pauses to
scratch his chest and head. Horza knew he was putting the next bit off, but it had to be done. He pressed
the ident button.
“This is Kraiklyn," he said, and coughed.
“Identification complete," the console said immediately. Horza wanted to shout, or at least to sag in his seat with relief,
but he hadn’t the
time to do either, and Wubslin would have thought it a little strange. So might the ship’s computer, for
that matter: some machines were
programmed to watch for signs of joy or relief after the formal identification was over. So
he did nothing to celebrate, just brought the fusion
motor primers up to operating temperature.
“Captain!" The small drone dashed back into the bridge, coming to a halt between Wubslin and Horza. “You will let me off this
ship at once
and report the irregularities taking place aboard immediately, or—"
“Or what." Horza said, watching the temperature in the
CAT
’s fusion motors soar. “If you think you can get off this ship you’re welcome to
try; probably Culture agents would blow
you to dust even if you did get out."
“Culture agents." the small machine said with a sneer in its voice. “Captain, for your information this GSV is a demilitarized
civilian vessel
under the control of the Vavatch Hub authorities and within the terms laid down in the Idiran-Culture War
Conduct Treaty drawn up shortly after
the commencement of hostilities. How—"
“So who turned the lights off and let the air out, idiot." Horza said, turning to the machine briefly. He looked back to the
console, turning the
bow radar up as high as it would go and taking readings through the blank wall of the rear of the Smallbay.