Communications Officer Gary Norlan was on the bridge when the starship broke out into normal space.
Normal? he thought. No. Hardly that, with the stars congested like this . . .
Soon, if things went right, Coffer’s pIanned diversionary tactic would commence. And on its heels, the mutiny. Coffer was on the bridge herself now, manning the sensor equipment . . . she had wangled that assignment so that she could be on the bridge at this time.
Perched in his padded swivel chair, simultaneously watching the vu-plates and the crew, Norlan could almost smell the tension. It was not the odor of perspiration—the air filters would hardly allow that to last long. It was actually, he realized, not even a smell as such. Perhaps it was synesthesia working in him—a transmuting of signals he received on some mental level into a scent.
The captain was standing. Tamner was beside him, arms folded, calmer in appearance than anyone else.
”All right, Coffer,” Darsen said. “You’ve had enough time. What do the sensors say?”
“There’s a great deal of interference due to the close proximity with so many suns, Captain,” said the woman, not looking up from her console.
“I didn’t ask about interference, Coffer. I want to know if there’s any sign of the alien.”
“No, Captain. But there is something rather odd ahead of us.” She looked up. “Readings indicate something like a large black hole. But there’s enough difference to make me doubtful.”
Darsen seemed to clutch at this information desperately. Stepping forward, he leaned over to look at the sensor readings on Genson’s board. “How far away is it?”
“About four hundred thousand kilometers.”
Darsen ordered six probe ships to be dispersed to examine the phenomenon closely, telling Engineering to keep the Pegasus at the present comparatively slow speed which it had maintained since the end of its Null-R jump.
Norlan relayed the orders through his communications panel.
They waited.
After a time, Norlan began to worry that everything was not going well with Ston and Mora. They should have made contact . . .
The section of his communication banks assigned to connect with the probes began to flash its lights. Red, blue. Red. Blue.
“We have visual transmission from probes one, four, and six,” he called out. He swiveled his chair to face Darsen, glancing past him toward Leana Coffer, who appeared quite disturbed.
Now they would find out what Darsen had gotten them into.
“Relay probe one’s transmission through to vu-tank controls,” Darsen ordered, making fine adjustments on the focus and interference-masking controls. Finally, a clear picture coalesced in the suspended holographic globe. The view of space it held was so filled with distant stars that a pearl-dust glow studded with the brilliance of nearer clusters fairly gleamed in the tank. It was stunningly different from the image of blackness relieved only by random pin points of light which Norlan had always associated with space.
In the very center of the picture was a black spot, fully visible in outline against the general luminescence. Without waiting for an order, the visual control officer increased the magnification on this spot by a factor of ten. The image shimmered and the spot came to dominate it, clearly circular in outline, allowing no light from the stars behind it to shine through.
“It’s only about four kilometers in diameter,” reported Lieutenant Markos, studying his computer screen, reading the probe telemetry. “And it’s absolutely stationary, measured against our galactic navigation grid.”
Darsen didn’t take his eyes away from the vu-tank. “A neutron star? Or perhaps a black hole . . .” Even at this moment, Norlan could not help judging Darsen, measuring his control over the crew and his resolve. Norlan was pleased at the confusion; speculating aloud as Darsen was doing gave the bridge crew members reason to doubt; something a captain should never allow.
“That’s not possible,” said Coffer from her sensor console. “Astronomers have mapped most of the gravitational-collapse phenomena in this sector long since, as I’m sure the captain is aware. We’ve no record of this one. Further, this . . . thing doesn’t exert nearly enough attractive force to be either a neutron star or a black hole. It does, however, possess enough attraction to continue dragging this ship toward it—which it has just begun doing. Should we take measures?”
Darsen glared at Coffer. “No. Not now. Switch to probe six,” he ordered Norlan. “Coffer, you will offer your observations and suggestions when I request them, and only then.”
Probe six had been intended to move past the black object but had been pulled into a downward-spiraling orbit around it. When the vu-tank was switched to six’s signal it showed essentially the same thing as the first probe: a featureless black disc, motionless in space. As the probe moved around the disc, however, it showed clearly that the thing was actually a sphere.
“Commander Coffer, continue with your report now, please,” Darsen said harshly.
“The black sphere absorbs radiation, but does not produce any. Its gravitational influence—assuming that this force is gravity as we understand it—is many times Earth normal. Beyond that, I have no information. Radar and other sensor beams don’t return from its surface.”
“So it is a hole of some sort after all.”
“Yes, Captain, but not belonging to the class of phenomena we call black—” Coffer began.
“Of course not, idiot!” Darsen seemed seized by a wild enthusiasm. “Tamner, what’s your evaluation of this thing?”
The lieutenant commander walked around the perimeter of the bridge toward Darsen’s desk, looking pleased with himself. “It’s probably artificial—but I imagine you’ve already concluded that yourself. If it is such, though, it’s most likely generated by a mechanism of some sort. Since there’s no evidence of any such machine in the vicinity, it must be on the other side.”
Darsen looked momentarily puzzled. “The other side—the other end of the rift, you mean.”
“Precisely.”
“We’ve followed Tin Woodman’s trail as closely as possible,” Darsen continued excitedly, “and if we hadn’t popped out of Null-R just at the edge of the rift’s attraction, we’d never have noticed it—it’s so small.”
“So the rift must have been Tin Woodman’s destination—the alien went through it!”
Oh, God. He means to follow it, Norlan thought. Desperately, he searched for an argument, any protest which might appeal to Darsen in his fanatical state of mind. Where were Mora and Ston? They had to stall . . . He looked over at Coffer and read similar thoughts on her face.
His own thoughts were interrupted by the blinking out of probe four’s light display.
“Captain, probe four’s gone,” Genson reported immediately. “It passed straight through the rift.”
“You’ve lost its signal entirely?” Darsen demanded.
“Yes, Captain. It was perfectly clear up until the moment the probe contacted the rift’s ‘surface.’ Then the signal stopped.”
“Absorbed by the rift’s field,” Tamner observed.
“That’s one possibility,” Norlan said, “one way of looking at it.” Tamner stared at Norlan, who stood and looked toward Darsen. “The probe’s signals aren’t being absorbed,” he continued. “Not necessarily. I think the probe has passed out of range of our receivers.”
“Impossible,” said Darsen, “Our equipment has a range of light-years.”
It was then that the message from Ston and Mora finally came through.
FOURTEEN
“Priority communication. Repeat—priority.” Ston Maurtan released the button and waited for clearance. He smiled and winked at Mora, who stood by the small storage closet where they had placed their “bomb.” Mora tried to smile back, but could not. She was concentrating on lending Ston as much emotional support a
s possible, but it was all she could do to maintain her own in a semblance of steadiness. Let it be over quickly, she prayed.
“They’re probably wrapped up in searching for Tin Woodman,” said Ston. “But I should think that Norlan would be ready for our signal.”
Coffer had selected the site well. Immediately below the base of the lift shaft—which made its final stop on the sensor platform—they were in a dimly lit storage room devoted to reserve sensor equipment. There were two points of entry: a set of metal stairs, and a large, simple service elevator which moved only back and forth between the storage room and the floor above it. The first thing Ston had done was to cut that elevator’s wires. Around and about them were the hulking forms of stacked component boxes on shelves with irregular aisles formed between them.
A terrorist’s paradise, mused Mora.
“Bridge. Lieutenant Norlan speaking.”
Mora could hear Ston swallow, take a deep breath. “I wish to speak to the captain, Mr. Norlan. And the captain only.”
“Identify yourself and reason for request.”
“My name is Ston Maurtan. I have a bomb.”
There was a long moment of silence. Notlan’s playing this very well, thought Mora.
“Would you repeat that, please.”
“I demand to speak to Captain Darsen. Immediately.”
Another long pause.
Ston licked his lips.
It had all gone well so far. The package they had carried down the lift and into the storage space had not attracted attention from Security. Evidently most of the attention of the crew had been on the imminent breakout into normal space. No one seemed to notice either Mora or Ston, a covered package tucked under his arm. Even the technicians at the controls on the sensor platform were so busy they failed to see the two as they sneaked down the stairway into the room where they stood now. Mora had been assigned the task of awaiting the breakout from Null-R; she had just returned, after being detained by the crush of people moving about the ship to their various stations.
A hard-edged voice issued from the speaker grille. The captain.
“Who is this? Where are you? We’ve no time for foolish threats. Desist, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”
Mora saw Ston smile grimly. “And let this gorgeously crafted bomb go to waste? I wouldn’t think of it, Captain. I can get so much use out of it.”
“I recognize your voice . . .” sad Darsen. “Maurtan. Ston Maurtan.”
A feeling of déjà vu swept through Mora.
“No secret about that, Captain. I identified myself to your man Norlan. But my threats are not frivolous or idle, let me assure you. I’ve got the hardware and the position to back me up. And the resolve. Also, I might add, a deadman’s switch on the bomb’s remote control.”
“Is Mora Elbrun involved?” Pause. “Just what do you want, Maurtan?”
“This is the situation, Captain,” said Ston. “This is what I want.”
Coffer watched as the reaction registered on Captain Darsen’s face: anger, surprise, fear. From the speaker boxes, Ston Maurtan’s voice outlined his position. It was almost better than Coffer had envisioned. But, most important, it was happening.
“ . . . and now that I’ve told you about the bomb, I’ll tell you how you can ensure it doesn’t detonate. It will kill me, true—but it will also disable the Pegasus in a manner you won’t quite be able to deal with, so far away from the Triunion. Quite simply, I want you to turn about and start heading right back the way we came. I think we’re all tired of your little game, Darsen. I think we all want to go home and be done with this foolishness you’ve brought about.”
Darsen jammed down on the communicator button. “You’re insane, Maurtan!” His eyes, Coffer saw from her station, seemed unsure, but his features held onto their almost single-minded appearance of resolve.
“Perhaps, Captain.”
“This must be a bluff,” said Darsen breathlessly. His eyes sought out Tamner’s, Tamner nodded, unemotionally. A scowl of disbelief outlined his face.
“No, Captain,” continued the radio voice. “Not a bluff. I’ve got nothing to lose—and much to gain. After all, you had no business ordering this ship after the alien, did you now? You know as well as I do you received no such orders from Galactic Command. In fact, you can almost say I’m acting on their behalf.”
“You have no right to carry on this way in my ship!”
“Oh—it’s your ship, is it? Not the Triunion’s? Is that what you’re saying?” the voice teased. “Well, no matter. It’s all one. Now as it happens, I also have weapons down here. And sufficient food and water to last for some time. Plus a companion to relieve me if I want to sleep. All I ask is that you simply go back to where we began. Back to where we belong. I won’t be unreasonable. You have thirty minutes to consult with your command officers. Perhaps you can even take a vote among the crew. But I warn you, if I don’t get the answer I want, I’ll press this little button right away. Understood?”
Darsen leaned forward tiredly. “Yes. Yes. Understood.” He motioned to Norlan to cut off the channel, then turned to face Tamner. The entire bridge crew was silent, all eyes resting on Darsen. In the screens the dazzles of the myriad stars seemed to grow more intense—as though they were a million other eyes, straining to peer into the scene of this peculiar drama.
“Absolutely impossible, Captain,” declared Tamner, striding up to Darsen. “There’s no way they could have made any kind of bomb. The necessary elements are not available.”
Captain Darsen clenched his fists in frustration. “There was no way for Maurtan to get off this ship with Mora Elbrun, either. But he did it. I just don’t know . . .” His heels squeaked as he turned to Coffer at her sensor console. “What do you say, Coffer? If a bomb tears apart that portion of the hull, will the lower half of the ship depressurize?”
She was surprised that he sought her advice after virtually ignoring her for so long. “Hard to say, Captain. We don’t know what sort of impact the bomb would have—if indeed it’s a bomb.” She could not take any hard stand, she realized. This might be some sort of test. “It seems to me that if it is a bomb, and the man does set it off, the principal problem will be that it’s certain to wipe out all the main sensor banks—not to mention the occupants of sleeper deck. And if the device is what Maurtan claims it is—well, there’s no way we can seal off the levels immediately, or for that matter, well enough.”
“Look, Captain,” exclaimed Tamner, now furious. “They’ve given us time to deal with them, even if there is a bomb. Let me take a detachment of Security down right away. We’ll take care of them in short order. Meanwhile, take your precautions—”
“You’re right, damn it!” Darsen’s face grew red with his passion. “If we don’t take care of this now, nip it in the bud, we’ll have problems like this throughout the ship. We can’t take that chance. We’ve come one hell of a distance—and we’re not going to abandon our goal just because of a ridiculous threat.” He turned to Tamner. “Do what you must, Commander. I’ve entrusted inner ship security to you. You may handle this matter in any damned way you like.”
“Right.” Tamner jumped up toward Norlan, brusquely elbowed him aside, and punched out security code. The man ordered up a detachment of twenty-five security officers, instructing the armory guards to break out a suitable complement of weapons. Lasers. Coffer felt a chill of fear for Ston and Mora.
The meeting place of the security men would be sensor deck.
Darsen focused his attention back upon the enigrna before them, ordering a wary but steady approach toward the rift.
Not much time, thought Coffer. I’ll give Tamner ten minutes to get out of the way before I act.
At Darsen’s orders, she directed her attention back to the sensor readouts. But peripherally she watched as Tamner stormed out of the bridge, murderous intent quite visible on h
is features.
That left two security officers on the bridge.
And one of them was Bisc O’Hari.
“Put your pistol on ‘full,’” said Ston, adjusting his own as he leaned against a wall after making the final check of his mechanism in the closet. “Much as I hate the idea of killing anyone, we’re not playing games here. They certainly intend to kill us. We’ll extend the same consideration.”
Mora nodded grimly. She looked down at her weapon. It was a compact ovoid fitted with a trigger handle and a small black nozzle from which the coherent light would emanate. She had never fired one before, let alone shot anyone.
“They’ll be charging down that metal staircase,” Ston was saying, stalking about excitedly like some animal before it begins the hunting of its prey. “We’ve got the advantage on them there. Have you got your mask? They might try to throw some sort of gas in-—or maybe feed it through the ventilation system, No telling what they’ll do—but whatever it is, they’ll try to accomplish it as fast as possible. And when they find out our bomb threats have been empty—well, we’re really going to have to fight for our lives.” He made a quick scan of the area. “We’d best position ourselves.” After directing Mora to stand behind a metal abutment which afforded a thick screen from laser fire, he situated himself beneath a shelf, the base of which lent him similar protection. In his right hand he held his weapon, safety off; in his left was the remote control device which would detonate the smoke bomb, his finger on the deadman switch.
They waited.
Her chronometer showed that five minutes had passed since Ston had finished delivering his ultimatum. To Mora, it seemed much longer than that. Doubts raged in her mind, Chances were, they might be killed. And would this diversion really matter in the long run? Was it worth it? Perhaps Ston should have refused Coffer’s request. Maybe they should have played it safe, kept their heads low throughout the whole affair.
But she knew that Ston would have had none of that. And, she admitted to herself, they had done what they had to.
Tin Woodman Page 15