said, “… This is the craft in Smallbay 27492. I want immediate clearance to leave the bay and the GSV; we’ll quit
the Orbital independently."
Wubslin stared at Horza.
“This is Evanauth Port traffic control, GSV temporary section. One moment, Smallbay 27492," said the speakers set in Horza
and
Wubslin’s seat headrests. Horza turned to Wubslin, switching off the communicator send button.
“This thing
is
ready to fly, isn’t it."
“Wha—. Fly." Wubslin looked perplexed. He scratched his chest, looked down at the drone still working to stuff the wires back
under the
console. “I suppose so, but—"
“Great." Horza started switching everything on, motors included. He noticed the bank of screens carrying information about
the bow laser
flickering on along with everything else. At least Kraiklyn had had that repaired.
“Fly." Wubslin repeated. He scratched his chest again and turned toward Horza. “Did you say ‘fly’."
“Yes. We’re leaving." Horza’s hands flicked over the buttons and sensor switches, adjusting the systems of the waking ship
as though he
really had been doing it for years.
“We’ll need a tug…." Wubslin said. Horza knew the engineer was right. The
CAT
’s anti-gravity was only strong enough to produce an
internal field; the warp units would blow so close to (in fact, inside)
a mass as great as the
Ends,
and you couldn’t reasonably use the fusion
motors in an enclosed space.
“We’ll get one. I’ll tell them it’s an emergency. I’ll say we’ve got a bomb aboard, or something." Horza watched the main
screen come on,
filling the previously blank bulkhead in front of him and Wubslin with a view of the rear of the Smallbay.
Wubslin got his own monitor screen to display a complicated plan which Horza eventually identified as a map of their level
of the GSV’s
vast interior. He only glanced at it at first, then ignored the view on the main screen and looked more carefully
at the plan, and finally put a holo
of the GSV’s whole internal layout onto the main screen, quickly memorizing all he could.
“What…" Wubslin paused, belched again, rubbed his belly through his tunic and said, “What about Horza."
“We’ll pick him up later," Horza said, still studying the layout of the GSV. “I made other arrangements in case I couldn’t
meet him when I
said." Horza punched the transmit button again. “Traffic control, traffic control, this is Smallbay 27492.
I need emergency clearance. Repeat, I
need emergency clearance and a tug straight away. I have a malfunctioning fusion generator
I can’t close down. Repeat, nuclear fusion
generator breakdown, going critical."
“What!" a small voice screeched. Something banged into Horza’s knee, and the drone working under the console wobbled quickly
into
view, festooned with cables like a streamer-draped party goer. “
What
did you say."
“Shut up and get off the ship.
Now,
" Horza told it, turning up the gain on the receiver circuits. A hissing noise filled the bridge.
“With pleasure!" the drone said, and shook itself to get rid of the cables looped round its casing. “As usual I’m the last
to be told what’s
going on, but I know I don’t want to stick around this—" it was muttering when the hangar lights went out.
At first Horza thought the screen had blown, but he slid the wavelength control up, and a dim outline of the bay reappeared,
showing its
appearance on infra-red. “Oh-oh," said the drone, turning first to the screen, then looking back at Horza. “You
lot did pay your
rent,
didn’t you."
“Dead," Wubslin announced. The drone got rid of the last of its cables. Horza looked sharply at the engineer.
“What."
Wubslin pointed at the transceiver controls in front of him. “Dead. Somebody’s cut us off from traffic control."
A shudder ran through the ship. A light blinked, indicating that the main hold lift had just slammed up automatically.
A draft briefly stirred the air in the flight deck, then died. More lights started flashing on the console. “Shit," Horza
said. “Now what."
“Well, goodbye, chaps," the drone said hurriedly. It shot past them, sucked the door open and whooshed down the corridor,
heading for the
hangar stairwell.
“Pressure drop." Wubslin said to himself, scratching his head for a change and knotting his brows as he looked at the screens
in front of
him.
“Kraiklyn!" Yalson’s voice shouted from the seat headrest speakers. A light on the console showed that she was calling from
the hangar.
“What." Horza snapped.
“What the hell’s going on." Yalson shouted. “We were nearly crushed! The air’s going from the Smallbay and the hangar lift
just
emergencied on us! What’s
happening.
"
“I’ll explain," Horza said. His mouth was dry, and he felt as though there was a lump of ice in his guts. “Is Ms. Gravant
still with you."
“Of course she’s still fucking with me!"
“Right. Come back up to the mess room right away. Both of you."
“Kraiklyn—" Yalson began, then another voice cut in, starting from a distance but quickly coming closer to the mike.
“Closed. Closed. Why is this lift door closed.
What
is going on on this vessel. Hello, bridge. Captain." A sharp
tap-tap
noise came from
the headrest speakers, and the synthesized voice went on, “Why am I being obstructed. Let me off this ship
at—"
“Get out of the way, you idiot!" Yalson said, then: “It’s that goddamn drone again."
“You and Gravant get up here," Horza repeated. “Now." Horza closed down the hangar com circuit. He wheeled out of the seat
and patted
Wubslin on the shoulder. “Strap in. Get us ready to roll. Everything." Then he swung through the open door. Aviger
was in the corridor, coming
from the mess to the bridge. He opened his mouth to speak but Horza squeezed quickly past him.
“Not now, Aviger." He put his right glove to
the lock on the armory door. It clicked open. Horza looked inside.
“I was only going to ask—"
“… what the hell’s going on." Horza completed the old man’s sentence for him as he lifted the biggest neural stun pistol he
could see,
slammed the armory doors shut and paced quickly down the corridor, through the mess room where Dorolow was sitting
asleep in a chair, and
into the corridor through the accommodation section. He switched the gun on, turned its power control
to maximum, then held it behind his
back.
The drone appeared first, flying up the steps and darting along the corridor at eye level. “Captain! I really must prot—"
Horza kicked a door open, caught the bevelled front of the drone as it came toward him and threw the machine into the cabin.
He slammed
the door shut. Voices were coming up the steps from the hangar. He held on to the handle of the cabin door. It
was pulled hard, then thumped.
“This is out
rageous!
" a distant, tinny voice wailed.
“Kraiklyn," Yalson said as her head appeared at the top of the steps. Horza smiled, readying the gun he held behind his back.
The door
resounded again, shaking his hand.
“Let me
out!
"
“Kraiklyn, what
is
going on." Yalson said, coming along the corridor. Balveda was almost up the stairs, carrying a large kitbag over her
shoulder.
“I’m going to lose my
temper!
" The door shook again.
A whine, high and urgent, came from behind Yalson, from Balveda’s kitbag; then a static-like crackle. Yalson didn’t hear the
high-pitched
whine—which was an alarm. Horza, though, was distantly aware of Dorolow stirring somewhere behind him in the
mess room. At the burst of