miss something, to fail to spot some tiny detail in the mass of data which
later—when you’ve forgotten all about it, when your back is turned
—creeps up and clobbers you.
The secret was to think of everything, or—because maybe the Culture was right, and only a machine could
literally do that—just
to be so in tune with what was going on that you thought automatically of all the important and potentially important things,
and ignored the rest.
With something of a shock, Horza realized that his own obsessive drive never to make a mistake, always to think of everything,
was not so
unlike the fetishistic urge which he so despised in the Culture: that need to make everything fair and equal, to
take the chance out of life. He
smiled to himself at the irony and glanced over at Balveda, sitting watching Wubslin experimenting
with some controls.
Coming to resemble your enemies,
Horza thought;
maybe there’s something in it, after all.
“… Horza, are you listening to me." Yalson said.
“Hmm. Yes, of course," he smiled.
Balveda frowned, while Horza and Yalson talked on, and Wubslin poked and prodded at the train’s controls. For some reason,
she was starting
to feel uneasy.
Outside the front carriage, beyond Balveda’s field of view, a small container rolled along the platform and into the wall
alongside the tunnel
mouth.
Xoxarle ran to the rear of the station. By the entrance to the foot tunnel, leading off at right angles into the rock behind
the station’s platform, was
the tunnel which the Changer and the two women had emerged from when they had returned from their
search of the station. It provided the
ideal place from which to watch; Xoxarle thought he would escape the effects of the
collision, and would have the best opportunity for a clear
field of fire, right down the station to the nose of the train,
in the meantime. He could stay there right up until the train hit. If they tried to get off, he
would have them. He checked
the gun, turning its power up to maximum.
Balveda got down from the seat, folding her arms, and walked slowly across the control deck toward the side windows, staring
intently at the
floor, wondering why she felt uneasy.
The wind howled through the gap between the tunnel edge and the train; it became a gale. Twenty meters away from where Xoxarle
waited in
the foot tunnel, kneeling there with one foot on the back of the unconscious Aviger, the train’s rear carriage started
to rock and sway.
The drone stopped in mid-cut. Two things occurred to it: one, that dammit there
was
a funny noise; and two, that just supposing there had been
an alarm sounding on the control deck, not only would none of
the humans be able to hear it, there was also a good chance that Yalson’s helmet
mike would not relay the high-pitched whine,
either.
But wouldn’t there be a visual warning, too.
Balveda turned at the side window, without looking out properly. She sat against the console there, looking back.
“… on how serious you still are about looking for this damn thing," Yalson was saying to Horza.
“Don’t worry," the Changer said, nodding at Yalson, “I’ll find it."
Balveda turned round, looked at the station outside.
Just then, Yalson and Wubslin’s helmets both came alive with the urgent voice of the drone. Balveda was distracted by a piece
of black
material, which was sliding quickly along the floor of the station. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened.
The gale became a hurricane. A distant noise, like a great avalanche heard from far away, came from the tunnel mouth.
Then, up the long final straight which led into station seven from station six, light appeared at the end of the tunnel.
Xoxarle could not see the light, but he could hear the noise; he brought the gun up and aimed along the side of the stationary
train. The
stupid humans
must
realize soon.
The steel rails began to whine.
The drone backed quickly out of the conduit. It threw the cut, discarded lengths of cable against the walls. “Yalson! Horza!"
it shouted at them
through its communicator. It dashed along the short length of narrow tunnel. The instant it turned the
corner it had hammered in to make
passable, it could hear the faint, high, insistent wailing of the alarm. “There’s an alarm!
I can hear it! What’s happening."
There, in the crawlway, it could feel and hear the rush of air coursing through and around the train.
“There’s a gale blowing out there!" Balveda said quickly, as soon as the drone’s voice stopped. Wubslin lifted his helmet
from the console.
Where it had lain, a small orange light was flashing. Horza stared at it. Balveda looked up at the platform.
Clouds of dust blew along the station
floor. Light equipment was being blown off the pallet, opposite the rear access gantry.
“Horza," Balveda said quietly, “I can’t see Xoxarle, or
Aviger."
Yalson was on her feet. Horza glanced over at the side window, then back at the light, winking on the console. “It’s an alarm!"
the drone’s
voice shouted from the two helmets. “I can hear it!"
Horza picked up his rifle, grabbed the edge of Yalson’s helmet while she held it and said, “It’s a train, drone; that’s the
collision alarm. Get
off the train now." He let go of the helmet, which Yalson quickly shoved over her head and locked. Horza
gestured toward the door. “Move!" he
said loudly, glancing round at Yalson, Balveda and Wubslin, who was still sitting holding
the helmet he had removed from the console.
Balveda headed for the door. Yalson was just behind her. Horza started forward, then turned as he went, looked back at Wubslin,
who was
setting his helmet down on the floor and turning back to the controls. “Wubslin!" he yelled. “
Move!
"
Balveda and Yalson were running through the carriage. Yalson looked back, hesitated.
“I’m going to get it moving," Wubslin said urgently, not turning to look at Horza. He punched some buttons.
“Wubslin!" Horza shouted. “Get out,
now!
"
“It’s all right, Horza," Wubslin said, still flicking buttons and switches, glancing at screens and dials, grimacing when
he had to move his
injured arm, and still not turning his head. “I know what I’m doing. You get off. I’ll get her moving;
you’ll see."
Horza glanced toward the rear of the train. Yalson was standing in the middle of the forward carriage, just visible through
two open doors,
her head going from side to side as she looked first at the still running Balveda heading for the second carriage
and the access ramps, and
then at Horza, waiting in the control deck. Horza motioned her to get out. He turned and strode
forward and took Wubslin by one elbow. “You
crazy bastard!" he shouted. “It could be coming at fifty meters a second; have
you any idea how long it takes to get one of these things