There was a sudden squeak from down the aisle. A ragged hum of malfunctioning machinery.
“They’re trying the service elevator,” said Ston. “Good thing the operation wires are down here, or they could fix them. This way they have to come down a couple at a time—and very carefully.”
Those noises ceased.
She and Ston were on opposite sides of the aisle which ended at the base of the stairway from the sensor platform. Mora had a clear view of its doorway. She drew a bead on it, practicing.
The moments passed. The silence grew thick, oppressive.
When the sound finally came, it was like a shattering explosion, even though it was only the door at the top of the stairs being opened.
Mora braced herself.
The steady, metallic clop clop clop of feet hitting stairsteps descended on them, like a droning, toneless bell of doom.
But it was only one set of feet. Only one person was coming down. No furious rush of scrabbling boots, no clicking of weapons. Only the steady clop clop clop.
Suddenly, Mora was aware of the heavy scent of her own perspiration. It smelled like fear.
A dark shadow bulked suddenly large in the doorway. It took a step closer, and the dark shadow’s face seemed to resolve from vague darkness into recognizable human features.
The features of Lieutenant Commander Jin Tamner.
He wore no body armor. His arms were raised, his hands empty. About his waist was a holster. His laser pistol was in that holster. There was no expression on his face.
“I’ve come to talk with you,” he said, simply. Mora could see his eyes glancing about, trying to pinpoint their locations. “You are here, aren’t you?”
Ston spoke. “Oh yes. We’re here. We asked that no one should come down here. You’re lucky we haven’t killed you. You’re even luckier that we haven’t interpreted this as a hostile action, and triggered the bomb.”
“Hostile?” Tamner waved a hand slightly. “I present no threat to you at the moment. I’m out in the open. You’re well protected. I’m not even quite sure where you are. The lighting isn’t all that great down here. No. No threat. The captain sent me down to reason with you. You chose a very inopportune time for this little, foolish game. The Pegasus is on the verge of perhaps the greatest accomplishment in human history. We’ll all be renowned for this exploit. Why should we mar it with this little business?”
“Is that what you’re after, Tamner?” said Ston. “Fame? A feeling of importance? Is this why you’ve aided Darsen’s stupid, foolish quest so loyally?”
The man shrugged. “I’d hardly qualify that as the only reason, but I wouldn’t dismiss it as part of it. But that’s neither here nor there in our discussion. I’ve come here to parlay with you. Come to terms. Most likely, you haven’t got a bomb stashed away down here. The whole idea is stupid, childish. We hardly think you’d sacrifice your lives and kill hundreds, just to alter this ship’s course. You and Mora—yes, she is down here, isn’t she?—aren’t the wisest individuals I’ve ever encountered. But neither are you the maniacs you’d like us to believe you are now. No. I interpret this as just another of your bids for attention. And so does the captain. We’re willing to forgive. So why don’t you just come along with me, peacefully. We’ll have to lock you in the brig for a time. But just long enough to see that you don’t interfere with this delicate situation we on the bridge find ourselves in. And then we’ll let you go, and attribute this rash, foolish threat to the strain we’ve, all been under. We won’t record it—no one else win ever know. All you have to do is to come out, and come with me. That’s all we ask—and in reward for your co-operation, Galactic Command wll never find out.”
“Galactic Command will be lucky to know anything,” returned Ston bitterly. “I’d rather be in their hands, safe in our home sector of space, than rushing toward infinity and uncertainty out here. I’ll let them be the judge of our actions. Not you, not Darsen.”
“Just talking with you, I know you’re not mad, Maurtan. You don’t sound like someone who would trigger a device that would destroy hundreds of human lives, and endanger hundreds more.” He turned his head slightly, nodded. Smoothly, two security officers stepped out of the doorway, drew up to his side. Both wore laser holsters. Both also had their hands raised in a manner similar to Tamner’s, Mora had not heard them descend, had not even sensed their presence until now. And they were too far away to take an empathic reading on their intent.
“Just consider these two part of my diplomatic envoy, Maurtan,” continued Tamner, attempting his version of a friendly smile. “No need for alarm whatsoever.”
“Why don’t you just bring down all your men, Tamner,” replied Ston. “A thousand officers couldn’t stop me from releasing this switch if I decide to. According to my reckoning, the captain has over ten minutes to respond, personally, to my demands. I intend to let him have the benefit of every single minute.”
Tamner frowned. “We don’t intend to play games with you, Maurtan. I assure you that the captain has entrusted me entirely with this matter. I think it would be of benefit to both of us to discuss the situation like reasonable human beings.”
“Very well,” Ston replied. “But I suggest that you not make any unnecessary movements toward your weapons. We are armed.”
“Ah yes. You and Mora. Where did you get the weapons, I wonder? Did you turn yourself invisible, sneak past the armory guards? I doubt it—I doubt if you’ve weapons of significance at all. And, Mora—why are you doing this? Trying to get back at us? Surely you realize that we’ve gone too far to turn back now. We’re committed. However you feel about us, whatever you think we’ve done to you, surely you can’t take it out on the whole ship. Because that’s what you’re—”
He was interrupted by the sudden blaring of the room’s general address speaker.
Mora instantly recognized the voice.
It was Norlan’s.
“All ship’s personnel, alert.”
Even as he spoke into the microphone that curled around on its metal stalk, rearing like a spitting cobra before him, Norlan glanced down at his control panel for another check. It was vital that his voice reach every section of the ship, issue from every available speaker. Fifteen minutes had passed since Tamner had rushed off the bridge. In that time, Captain Darsen had turned all of his attention back to preparing the ship for entrance through the spatial anomaly before them—the rift. And Coffer had given the signal . . .
Good. All the appropriate switches were on.
“All crew members, take emergency measures. Passengers, secure yourselves in turbulence harnesses and gravity couches.”
And the strange black spot in the view screens before them, the sphere of pure darkness that contrasted so with the generous scatter of stars in this sector, grew as they neared it. Norlan knew that if they got too close, the Pegasus would be hard-pressed to outpower the thing’s tremendous gravitational pull and escape from being drawn through it into the unknown. Who knew what would happen then? Perhaps they would be tom apart by the tremendous forces this strange hole in space seemed to own. And if they did survive the passage—where would they be? And would they be able to return?
He had been so desperate, he was about to take action before he had any specific orders from the captain for the ship-wide address he had expected, informing the crew of their present circumstances. From his occasional glances to Coffer, he could see that she was growing nervous as well. Her eyes, when they connected with his, seemed to say, “When? When?”
But finally, upon his suggestion, Captain Darsen had allowed that it would be necessary to take safety precautions, should the entrance through the rift be turbulent He ordered him to notify the rest of the crew and passengers.
“Possible gravitational fluctuations and confusion. Repeat, please take emergency measures.”
He took a breath and prayed tha
t it was not too late.
And that the plan would work.
“Compliments of the captain.”
“. . . of the captain.”
The final words dropped like a mild pronouncement of doom from the speaker perched almost directly over the top of his station. His head jerked up from the flashing readings on his fusion ramjet monitor. He had been expecting those words, indeed ardently praying for their arrival. His job in Engineering supplied him with full knowledge of the position and destination of the Pegasus. If the mutiny were held off much longer, it well might be useless.
Nevertheless, when the words finally came on the tail of the announcement of the emergency, they startled Ensign Dinni Rosher. The weight of guilt settled fully on his shoulders as he realized the totality of the implications of his intended actions. His years of training at the academy suddenly drew rein on his rebel mind, and brought him up short. No, he couldn’t. A violent overthrow of the authority that governed his life, on such flimsy notice? How did he know that he wasn’t the only one that strange woman had contacted? How did he know that he wouldn’t be immediately overpowered, the sole mutineer? Overpowered, stashed away to rot until court-martial—maybe even killed in the scuffle!
Quivering slightly, he let his eyes roam over his fellows seated at their positions in the room, over the pair of security men by the doors. And he saw his own fear and trepidation mirrored in the eyes of Lieutenant Markle. In the expression of Ensign Mitters. And in at least two others of the ten officers stationed there. They seemed as hesitant as he—it was almost as if they were experiencing the same emotions. Undergoing the same doubts.
As he leaned back in his chair, astonished, he felt the hard plastic and metal of the stunner taped to the small of his back press against his spine: a sharp jolt of pain reminded him of his role. It was as though that knife of sensation punctured the dam of doubt. His former feelings, his resolve, flooded back in full measure. And once again the Talent, Mora, seemed to touch his mind. It’s the right thing to do, she seemed to say. And it must be done immediately.
He pulled the seal release on the side of his jumpsuit, reached in, tore the stunner off his back. It hurt. But the sting cleared his senses even more. Yes, it must be done now, and with no hesitation, or it would all be lost.
Gripping the pistol, he rose up from the chair, took two steps forward. He leveled the stunner at the closest security officer, a stout, sleepy-eyed man, and fired. The weapon throbbed; energy coursed out, enveloped the man, who shuddered and dropped. His fellow officer was obviously equipped with years of training, for his weapon was instantly being grappled from his holster. But too late. Rosher swung the stunner, fired, and the other security officer crumpled to the floor with a grunt of disbelief.
Rosher strode to the door mechanism, punched in the proper lock sequence as Mora had instructed him. He picked up the unconscious officers’ weapons, then looked around at the others.
Several merely stared at him, surprise and horror clear in their aspects. These he would have to watch.
“Stop the engines!” he ordered, waving his stunner. “And be prepared to engage them again on my orders.”
But the four he had noticed before had already commenced that operation.
“Compliments of the captain.”
So.
Then Mora Elbrun had told the truth. A flicker of good feeling trembled at the edges of Secondary Programmer Avedon Avedic’s mind. She had liked the former shiplady, indeed felt an affinity with the woman. It was interesting. Mora seemed to be successful in doing something that the service had never been able actually to do: get its members together on something, of their own free will. Of course, the running of the starships would be impossible if the crew members did not co-operate. But co-operation under the tyranny of rules and orders was an entirely different affair from the sort of co-operation that Mora seemed to be linking together. This was a distinct action against orders, rules, and laws. In the eventual interest of the service, true—if indeed this matter of Captain Darsen’s insanity was the case; if he had spirited off the Pegasus on this wild, break-neck course to the center of the galaxy. The thought appealed to the dark, comely woman. In fact it pleased her all to hell.
To strike back at ‘Them’—with their own instruments, the devices they had trained her to operate . . .
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation on her part. Joyfully, she leaned over the keyboard, her long black hair wisping down along the sides of her Mediterranean features. She punched in the codes she had devised—the key that would allow her entrance into the computer’s navigational systems. It had taken her a long time to figure out how to do that—longer certainly than the notice from Mora Elbrun had given her. But fortunately she had puzzled out the complex systems of the ship’s computer months before. There wasn’t much else of comparable interest for a computer freak on this ship.
Feverishly, she typed. And, as she always knew they would, the ghostly, ephemeral figures that swept over the read-out screen were responding with the proper sequences.
She had never really wanted to enlist in the service at first. All she had wanted was to get her hands on computer circuitry—it was her life. With computers, there were endless possibilities—riddles to unravel, puzzles to doodle over endless rapturous hours—and in the end new and better machines. Back on Earth, her enthusiasm had been boundless. She had zipped through her technical and theoretical training, had met all the myriad requirements for any of the topflight research institutes. Indeed her qualifications had been so great that she expected to be able easily to vault over the little setbacks of her political affiliations. So what if she’d lent her voice to the collective outcry against her government? Surely that would not hurt her. It was supposed to be a free nation.
But all of the computer corporations had turned her down with apologetic mumbles, suggesting that she might try her luck on a colony. But she had no desire to journey to some backwater world—for one thing, their machines were just too primitive. It would be like playing with blocks.
And then the service had come to her. “How would you like to work on a truly sophisticated and eminently practical computer system?” they had cooed, “building up the benefits of service life. See the stars. Be important.”
She had said no, at first. But her love for computers was great. Immersing herself in math and electronics and an the corollary aspects of computer science that were predictable and yet exciting was so much better than her wretched personal relationships. Computers she could handle. She could love them, and they her—in their own way. It wasn’t so with people.
But she had not been getting much of a chance to work on applied computer science theory here. She had to make do with this limited and closed-minded little nothing of a functional starship computer. And so she had learned every centimeter of its components by volunteering for maintenance work from time to time. It was now her baby.
Now it awoke to her touch.
NAVIGATIONAL GRID 0110 IN OPERATION.
Superb.
Suddenly, she was aware of the sounds of violence about her in the low-ceilinged, light-sprinkled room. She had to work fast.
MAINTAIN STAND-BY FOR SPECIFIC ORDERS she tapped into the keyboard.
Making sure her earphone was working properly, clear for orders from the mutiny’s contingent on the bridge, she breathed deeply.
A man staggered out from behind a block of machinery. A security officer. He groped for a hold on the block’s console. His hand slipped. He tumbled to the floor, his eyes filming over.
Following him, a stunner clutched in hand, came Primary Programmer Lieutenant Birt Mikal. His stark, serious brown eyes found hers.
She smiled at him and laughed, indicating her computer screen. “I just need orders from downstairs.”
He smiled back. “Good. Conspiracies are no fun on your own, are they?”
FIFTEEN
“Compliments of the captain.”
Hidden behind the shadowy abutment, Mora could not contain a small sigh of relief as Norlan’s final phrase receded to a dim echo in the rear of the storage room. The trigger phrase had been issued. The mutiny had begun.
She shot Ston a look, pulsed him a wave of emotion that said, It is done.
But the expression on Ston’s face returned the truth: No, it wasn’t finished at all. It had only begun.
Mora craned her neck back a bit to get a better look at the three security officers. A frown etched deep in his features, the middle man, Tamner, seemed very uneasy. Not at all the former cool, diplomatic emissary he had arrived as.
“You see,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, peering into the dimness, “Your threat is too late, anyway. Whether you know it or not, we’re headed into a rift of space—following the alien. There’s nothing you can do now.” He mouthed the words with a finality that lacked conviction. Eying his subordinates hesitantly, he whispered something. He shook his head, worried, and grabbed up his belt communicator. “Security channel. Security channel,” he spoke into the disc. “Is everything all right? Do you read me?”
Instantly Mora knew—felt—that Tamner suspected. If he managed to reach a member of Security who was witnessing a segment of the mutiny then he would immediately order his detachment up the lift. Something had to be done. The man obviously had no real worry now about the bomb threat—perhaps he never had. He had come down here personally to kill them, be rid of her and Ston once and for all, armed with valid provocation. But now Mora could tell from his eyes and in the vague waves of feeling emanating from him that Jin Tamner was corning to the realization that he’d been had.
Something had to be done to stop him, or at least detain him.
She raised her weapon, reluctantly but without pause for consideration, she fired. A stream of energy singed through the air, struck the communicator full on. There was a flash of explosion. Tamner was hurled back against a bulkhead like a rag doll. His associates toppled aside, sprawling onto the metal floor.
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