by Peter Telep
"C'mon, asshole."
Who said that? Blair blinked hard and focused on Maniac, who had grabbed his wrist and now yanked him to his feet. The three Marines lay on the floor, contorted and barely able to breathe. Karista stood staring at them in a trance that sent Blair toward her. He touched her shoulder. "You all right?"
She shivered. "I guess so."
"Hey, lovers," Maniac called out. "This is great. You got 'em flapping like fish, so let's go. Blair, you can give her that tongue bath later." He hustled off toward Santyana, who had hunkered down at the intersection.
"Sorry about him," Blair said. "He has a few psych problems. Can't help himself. It's all in his profile. You can read it yourself."
She didn't buy that and began to say something, but the sudden pounding of boots from the stairwell sent them dashing toward Santyana, who suddenly sprang into the intersection and pumped automatic fire into the passage to their right. He reached the other side, took up a position behind the corner, then sent off another salvo of suppressing fire. "Five comin' at us," he cried.
"And more back here," Blair relayed, hazarding a look over his shoulder at the Marines bounding from the stairwell.
Santyana ducked back and turned his weapon on the nearest hatch control. A triplet of fire rendered the panel a smoking piece of tattered metal, but the hatch did not open. "Only works in the movies," he said with a snort, then waved them over. "Come on!"
Maniac bolted across the intersection, opening up on the Marines advancing from the right. He reached the other side and jogged on toward Santyana.
"Take my hand," Karista told Blair. "Drag me over there. I'll slow them down." She lifted her head toward the Marines Maniac had evaded.
"But what about them?" Blair asked, gesturing to the group coming up hard to the rear.
"There's, just too many. We'll try to outrun them."
With a nod, he seized her wrist and pulled her toward the intersection. As they crossed into the open, he spotted twin lines of Marines lying on their stomachs along the passage. The first two soldiers in each row rolled onto their backs and clutched their throats.
"We're across," he told Karista, then tightened his grip on her wrist. Her eyes refocused, and it took but a few seconds more for them to break into a sprint.
They jogged straight for about fifty meters, the Marines behind them thankfully holding their fire. Conventional rounds fired within the ship could cause serious damage-not that Maniac and Santyana cared about that. It also seemed likely that the jarheads had been ordered to take them alive.
The corridor dead-ended at a sealed hatch whose control panel flashed the usual authorized personnel only warning.
"Hey, you can't pick locks with that little power, can you?" Maniac asked Karista.
"No, but I can shut mouths."
Maniac's lips sealed, his eyes bugged out, and he began to groan under Karista's gravitic gag. She let him suffer a few sec-onds more, then freed him. "Hey, honey," he said, his lips and tongue moving spastically. "Take it easy."
"Everybody back," Santyana cried, the status light on his rifle's underslung grenade launcher flashing red.
"Let's make this a quick bang," Maniac warned. "Hunting party's just down the hall."
They retreated about eight meters from the hatch, and even before Blair could find a spot against the bulkhead, Santyana rang the doorbell with his concussion grenade. A terrific thunderclap reverberated through the corridor, succeeded by a muffled burst as the hatch blew inward.
"I always like to make an entrance," Maniac mumbled as he followed Santyana into the rising smoke.
Blair put his hand on Karista's shoulder and ushered her in behind Maniac. Shouts to halt echoed from behind them, and Blair smiled over a sudden idea. He thought himself in front of them and moved swiftly through the ranks, tripping one, two, three, a fourth Marine. The five or six others behind them collided into the heap of tangled limbs. Too easy. Too funny.
Then he took himself back, his eyes now watering from the smoke. They passed onto the first catwalk of the environmental control bay. Scores of monitors walled in the rectangular room, and at its center lay the fifteen massive, drum-shaped air recy-clers that rose five meters to the overhead.
Wasting only the few seconds it took to appraise the surroundings, they darted across the catwalk and took a stairway down to the operations level. The five techs assigned to the station had already gathered near the first drum to regard them with curiosity and a healthy measure of respect.
"You're not authorized to be in this area," a gray-haired tech, probably the department head, shouted.
"Very good," Maniac returned. "You got any more keen observations before I pick your nose with a round?"
The Marines in pursuit reached the catwalk, and a trio made it to the stairs much sooner than Blair would have liked. He spotted the next hatch that would take them into the aft storage area.
Once again, they would have to stall the Marines so they could blast themselves a course.
Damn it, if we only had access to the security network, we could open the hatch before we even get to it.
Wait a minute. Maybe we do. "Merlin. Activate."
Blair had to grin as the old holographic assistant jogged next to him on a course of air about shoulder height. "You realize you're killing me, don't you, Christopher?"
Why Merlin had chosen to jog was beyond Blair, and he hardly had the time for an explanation. "Get into the security network and open that hatch."
"You make it sound so simple."
"Just do it!"
"What is that?" Karista asked.
"My holographic assistant. I would've introduced you to him earlier, but he tends to embarrass me."
"He lies, Ms. Mullens. Oh, how he lies."
Santyana reached the hatch, and as he glanced at the control panel, a string of lights switched from white to green. He faced them, confused.
Blair winked at the holograph. "Very smooth, Merlin."
"You kidding? I didn't do anything. I'm still trying to break into the net."
"Then who opened the hatch?"
"I'll trace the command. Well, I can't. I'm blocked."
"Who cares who opened it," Maniac called back. "We'll thank them later." He followed Santyana into the next passage.
Karista slowed as she reached the hatchway. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I thought you didn't need to ask. But yeah, I am. Just be ready."
22
VEGA SECTOR.DAY QUADRANT. EN ROUTE TO PORT HEDLAND.CS OLYMPUS.
2654.128.1000 HOURS.CONFEDERATION STANDARD TIME.
Blair remembered the aft storage area from the first time he had passed through it, on his way to view the hopper drive. The polymeric bars that fenced in literally thousands of storage containers reminded him of the brig: one of two possible homes for him if they failed. The second lay out there, somewhere, in the continuum. He guessed his script would live on, as his mother's did, but to die, to end in the physical sense… better not to think about it.
Ahead and behind the bars, a crew of three ran a small loader with a hydraulic claw secured to its tapered nose. They shifted a column of containers toward the starboard bulkhead. Consumed in their work and deafened by the whine of the loader's engine, the techs failed to notice Santyana and Maniac as the two hauled by. Even as the tech nearest Blair and Karista turned his head and spotted them, a voice boomed loudly from the shipwide intercom:
"This is the captain. Broturs and sosturs? The time has come. Report to jump stations. We'll reach interphase point in six minutes. Captain out."
"There's the hatch," Santyana said, pointing ahead to the oval-shaped barrier.
"Where are the guards?" Blair asked. "Supposed to be a couple of guards."
"And the door's unlocked," Maniac said, eyeing the control panel.
Santyana broke out of his jog and stood at the door, panting. "They're waiting for us in there."
"So we go in shooting." Maniac grimac
ed and shook his rifle, demonstrating how he would punch holes in the next contingent of Marines.
"Blair? Karista? When I open the hatch, you reach in there first," Santyana said. "See what you can do." He thumbed the touchpad.
And Blair surrendered to that other place inside him. He and Karista stepped gingerly onto the circular catwalk overlooking the coliseum-like drive chamber. A score of Marines had strung themselves along the walk at three-meter intervals and leaned over the rail, sweeping the room with their rifles. The two jar-heads nearest the hatch rushed forward, though everyone kept hidden in the corridor outside-a position good for only another few seconds.
Moving with the fluid grace of a breaker, Karista reached the first Marine, raised her hand-and froze. She looked at Blair, shocked. "I can't."
A tall black man materialized next to her. He had already seized one of her wrists and now grabbed the other and forced her back. "No, Sostur. There's nothing you can do here."
Blair dove toward the man, but a palm of force held him in midair. He fought against the gravitic barrier, against an impossibly strong mind, then suddenly dropped to the deck.
Gunfire reverberated nearby. He tried to stand but couldn't against the riptide.
Then he opened his eyes to find himself back in the corridor with the others, rifles pointed at their heads. Santyana and Maniac had shot three more Marines before being overrun. The Marines confiscated their rifles and eyed them with a vengeance clearly restrained by an order from Aristee.
"Inside," one jarhead said, shifting his position to drive them back toward the hatch.
"Well, what a supreme waste of time this has been," Maniac said. "Like we had a chance-"
"If you don't shut your hole, you're going to suddenly hate me even more," said the Marine guarding Maniac.
"What happens now?" Blair asked.
"Guess we're in time for the show," Santyana answered. "Look."
Paladin, Aristee, and Frotur McDaniel stood on the lower deck, at a U-shaped control panel positioned near the foot of the hopper drive. Four drive officers sat at their stations near the bulkhead behind Aristee, and three other Pilgrims now gathered near the control panel, one of whom Blair recognized as the black man who had seized Karista. A rhythmic churning sound came from the drive itself, as though the thing were some curving beast consuming shadows and whipping itself up into a frenzy.
"There he is," Maniac muttered. "Our goddamned hero. Pin a medal on his ass." He cocked his head to Blair. "What do you think now, Ace? Look to you like the commodore's trying to stop her?"
Blair swallowed back his reply as he gripped the staircase's railing. They descended to the lower deck as Aristee left the control panel, probably on her way to gloat over their capture.
But as she came forward, her face tightened in a curious expression of grief. "You think I like doing this? You think I don't realize how many people are going to die? We didn't ask for any of this. We were first. We were meant for the stars. No war will ever murder that truth." She regarded the Marines. "Return to your posts. Keep them in your sights."
As the Marines dispersed, Maniac slipped a few steps away and swung his glare on Paladin. "You goddamned traitor!"
The accusation hardly struck a blow as Paladin continued watching the monitor before him.
"Sir?" Blair cried.
Paladin would not look up.
"Sir? Is it true?"
Aristee closed in, blocking Blair's view. "Commodore Taggart was a Pilgrim first, Mr. Blair. He can't change that. No one can. Follow his example. You've assimilated your Pilgrim side even more than I thought you would, and you're not finished. And you," she began, twisting her lip at Karista. "Maybe you'll come to see the truth in our new order. Change is always difficult. I'll give you time."
"Trying to keep your enemies close?" Karista said with canines fully exposed.
"We're the same-determined, stubborn, in touch with what burns inside us. That's why we're so powerful. That's why I want you close."
"Captain," Paladin said, raising his voice. "Brotur Vyson reports multiple bogies inbound. Had them on the scope for a moment, then lost them."
Aristee stormed to the control panel and worked the touch-pad. "Give me the XO."
Blair moved in with others, ever wary of the Marines above. He spotted the grim-looking XO on a comm monitor, with bridge officers darting behind him.
"Ma'am," the XO began curtly. "First contact bearing three-two-four by five-one-nine. Designate Alpha three-one, Kilrathi Skipper missile. Range: two-zero-one-five-two Ks. Velocity: three-seven-nine KPS and holding. Five similar contacts, designated Alpha three-two through six inbound, with headings and velocities marked. We've lost them again."
"How much time?"
"Missiles will impact in forty-nine second… mark."
"Brotur Hawthorne?" Aristee cried, spinning toward one of the drive control officers. "We need to jump in thirty seconds."
"Captain," the XO called. "Count one-eight-seven bandits closing. Range: two-one-two-seven three Ks. Velocity: three-eight-nineKPS. Dralthi fighters. ETA: fifty-four seconds… mark."
"They've sent in their fighters to tie up ours, so we can't interdict the missiles," Paladin said. "We couldn't scramble enough fighters in time anyway."
"And there's no way we can jump in thirty seconds," Drive Officer Hawthorne said, tearing fingers through his shaggy hair. "The containment field is only operating at ninety percent. If we jump now, we run the risk of an antimatter leak that would destroy the ship."
"Brotur Zimbaka?" Aristee said to the black man who had stopped Karista. "Can you reinforce the containment field?"
"We can."
"Very well. Do so." Aristee rushed over to McDaniel and placed an affectionate hand on the old man's shoulder. "Frotur, are you ready to input jump coordinates?"
McDaniel regarded the panel. "Computer, ready to receive NAVCOM coordinates for hopper drive jump?"
"Ready," came the NAVCOM's even voice. "Jump interphase point reached."
"Brotur Hawthorne?" Aristee said. "Engage the drive."
As the system's whirring turned into a riot of booms and bellows, Blair turned burning eyes on Paladin. How could a man whom he admired so much resort to something as heinous as this? What had happened to him?
Frotur McDaniel gesticulated wildly as he recited strings of coordinates as though they were songs, holding his vibrato on the last number in each set.
"Report on the field?" Aristee said to Hawthorne.
"Up to ninety-six percent, with no signs of leakage."
Blair looked to Zimbaka and the other two pilgrims. All winced and leaned back on the bulkhead, using their extrakinetic ability on an inanimate object. They would pay the price for their actions. Blair shivered as he remembered moving his cot and the sensation that effort had produced.
"Hey, Ace," Maniac said, edging closer to Blair. "Get ready to shield the jewels."
"Don't try-"
But Maniac was already halfway to the control panel, with fire from above tracking his steps and ricocheting off the deck. Blair dropped to his stomach but continued to watch as Maniac sprinted up behind Aristee, slid his arm around her neck, then turned to face the Marines as he slapped a palm on the side of the woman's head. "I'll break her neck," he shouted. "I learned the same way as you." Then Maniac cocked his head to Drive Officer Hawthorne. "Shut it down."
The man lifted shaking hands.
"Lieutenant, do I need to point out the obvious?" Paladin asked.
"It ends here," Maniac said.
"Frotur?" Aristee gasped. "Frotur!"
McDaniel touched a thin line of blood that trickled down from a dark, gaping hole near his temple. He turned his head a bit, an expression of helplessness and horror beginning to form before he suddenly slumped to the deck.
"Not him," Karista wailed. Oblivious of the Marines above, she bolted to the frotur's side and rolled him onto his back. She shut her eyes, placed a hand on his wound, then wrenched away as th
ough shocked. "It's too late. I can't help him."
"The well is open," Hawthorne cut in. "Jump in eight seconds."
"Brotur Taggart," the XO beckoned from the comm monitor. "Second bearing on the missiles. They're moving into our gravitic field. Lead missile has already increased velocity by twenty percent."
"Launch countermeasures," Paladin ordered. "Rig the ship for impact."
"Belay that," Maniac said. "And abort the jump. Or she dies." He tightened his grip on Aristee's neck and dragged her toward Paladin.
The commodore nodded coolly. "You'll have to kill her, Mr. Marshall."
"I got a clean shot on him," one of the Marines exclaimed from the catwalk. "Just give me the word, Captain."
Shudders muscled through the bulkheads as the ship neared the gravity well. One of the monitors mirrored an image from the radar officer's station and showed the inverted V formation of red blips closing in, with a throng of smaller dots in tow. Blair felt the desire to act surge through him. But what to do? Stop Paladin? Maniac?
"Point of No Return velocity in five, four, three, two-"
A shot drowned out the drive officer's countdown.
And a curious look came over Maniac's face. He grasped his neck, then released Aristee and fell onto his rump. "Ah, shit."
Blair closed his eyes and took himself up to the catwalk. He glided behind the first Marine and shoved the woman over the rail. She hollered and fell headfirst onto the deck. As he threw himself onto the next jarhead, Santyana dove for the first Marine's rifle and rolled up with it. Under heavy fire from the remaining Marines, he scurried behind the main control panel, then popped up a second later to send a flurry of rounds streaming across the catwalk.
As Blair lifted the next Marine, a massive explosion wrenched him away from the catwalk and back into himself. Even as he opened his eyes, the deck dropped nearly a meter, and he crashed onto his side. The impact continued to reverberate as he struggled to sit up.
"We've been hit!" the XO said from the comm monitor. "Port ion engine offline! Hang on. Here comes the-"