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.