"Mipp?" he said, looking at Dorolow. "No." He shook his head. "No, Mipp didn't make it."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Dorolow said.
"Look," Horza said, staring at Aviger and Wubslin, "you think there's somebody out there looking for one of us?"
"A man," Wubslin nodded slowly, "and a little, tiny, really mean-looking drone."
With a chill, Horza recalled the insect which had settled momentarily on his wrist in the smallbay outside, just before he had boarded the CAT. The Culture, he knew, had machines — artificial bugs — that size.
"Hmm," Horza said, pursing his lips. He nodded to himself, then looked at Yalson. "Go and make sure Gravant gets off the ship, quickly, all right?" He stood up and got out of the way while Yalson moved. She went down the corridor to the cabins. Horza looked at Wubslin and motioned the engineer forward towards the bridge, with his eyes. "You two stay here," he said quietly to Aviger and Dorolow. Slowly they let go of each other and sat down in a couple of seats. Horza went through to the bridge.
He pointed Wubslin to the engineer's seat and sat down in the pilot's. Wubslin sighed heavily. Horza closed the door, then quickly reeled through all he had learned about the procedures on the bridge during the first weeks he had been aboard the CAT. He was reaching forward to open the communicator channels when something moved under the console, near his feet. He froze.
Wubslin peered down, then bent with an audible effort and stuck his big head down between his legs. Horza smelled drink.
"Haven't you finished yet?" Wubslin's muffled voice said.
"They took me off to another job; I only just got back," wailed a small, thin, artificial voice. Horza sat back in his seat and looked under the console. A drone, about two thirds the size of the one which had escorted him from the elevator to the CAT's bay, was disentangling itself from a jumble of tine cables protruding from an open inspection hatch.
"What', Horza said, "is that?"
"Oh," Wubslin said wearily, belching, "same one that's been here… you remember. Come on, you," he said to the machine. "The captain wants to do a communication test."
"Look," the little machine said, its synthesised voice full of exasperation, "I have finished. I'm just tidying everything away."
"Well get a move on," Wubslin said. He withdrew his head from underneath the console and looked apologetically at Horza. "Sorry, Kraiklyn."
"Never mind, never mind." Horza waved his hand. He powered up the communicator. "Ah…" He looked at Wubslin. "Who's controlling traffic movements around here? I've forgotten who to ask for. What if I want the bay doors opened?"
"Traffic? Doors opened?" Wubslin looked at Horza with a puzzled expression. He shrugged and said, "Well, just traffic control, I suppose, like when we came in."
"Right," Horza said; he flicked the switch on the console and said, "Traffic control, this is…" His voice trailed off.
He'd no idea what Kraiklyn had called the CAT instead of its real name. He hadn't got that as part of the information he'd bought, and it was one of the many things he had meant to learn once he'd accomplished the most immediate task of getting Balveda off the ship, and with luck following a false trail. But the news that there might be somebody looking for him in this bay — or anybody, for that matter — had rattled him. He said, "… This is the craft in Smallbay 17492. 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 towards 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 memorising 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 draught 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 t
he 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 synthesised 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 goddam 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 armoury 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 armoury 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 towards him and threw the machine into the cabin. He slammed the door shut. Voices were coming up the steps from the hangar. He held onto the handle of the cabin door. It was pulled hard, then thumped. "This is outrageous!" 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 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 towards 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 towards 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 demilitarised 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.
"I don't know," the drone said, "but I rather doubt it would be Culture agents. Who or what do you think these supposed agents are after? You?"
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