"And you?" Kiril asked quietly.
"I told her if anything happened to you, she could transfer me to the TFCS. I'd get a position as a hospital assistant until we reached port and I could find another ship."
"You mean this crew was breaking up over me?" Kiril said, incredulous. "Why? I wasn't taking any more risk than the rest. We were all under death sentence the minute we got that summons. Izquierda's been planning to destroy this ship and everyone in it for years! Unless we can find a way out of this jam, none of us are gonna live. What difference does it make if I get it aboard that ship or in this one?"
"At least it wouldn't be him" Michelle said, vehemently. "Nobody should be asked to put himself into that man's power, and you've done it twice, realizing what he was even before the rest of us did, and now you're going to do it again. It's not fair."
"Fair?" Kiril said. "I've heard gamblers use that word, but they all cheat. It doesn't apply here. We got to do what we can to get us out of this, and I'm in a position to do us some good. The skipper's plan is sound. She's got the whole ship to think about. I'm the one who can testify about Izquierda, and if anybody can keep me alive long enough to do it, it's those Vivers. Besides, I think I have one other advantage."
"What's that?" Michelle asked, dabbing at her eyes.
"Remember what I said a while back, about how Nagamitsu hates Izquierda's guts, even worse than the skipper?"
"Yes. What of it? Probably most of the navy officers who've heard what he did during the War hate him."
"It's more than that. He has some other reason and it's personal. I think all he needs is an excuse to move against Izquierda. Well, I can give him that excuse. I don't think he'll waste any time."
"Are you sure?" Michelle asked.
"I've been right about these things so far, haven't I?"
Michelle slumped with her face buried in her palms, and Kiril stepped behind her and put her hands on the older woman's shoulders. After a few minutes Michelle rummaged through a drawer and handed Kiril a small packet of tabs. "Here. It could happen tomorrow, and you'll need some sleep. Take one of these."
Kiril took them and went back to her cabin, not trusting herself to say anything more. She was glad that the tab was fast-acting, because it was the first time she had ever cried herself to sleep since she was a little girl.
"The two ships," Kuth was saying, "are in orbit around the great moon. We suspect that is because . . . they can make a faster . . . getaway should things turn bad. it is only . . . prudent. One of our vessels picked up a piece of wreckage in planetary orbit, it contained the . . . memories of one of your computers. Among them was . . . location data of many human worlds. The . . . chances of making such a find are unthinkable. This was the work of your . . . traitor."
"We expected such a move," the skipper said. "The instruments will prove to be from the fake Angel. Another nail in our coffin. The man overlooks nothing. As long as you don't attack the ships, they won't leave or attack you. They're trying to figure out a way to patch up this situation while Izquierda plumps for war. He must want to get out bad by now. He doesn't want hostilities to commence while he and his ship are vulnerable."
"What's stopping him?" Torwald asked.
"Nagamitsu," she answered. They were gathered around the mess table once again. "He must suspect Izquierda had something to do with all this. He's making him keep the Supernova close to the TFCS. Old Ramon must be sweating about now."
Kiril had arrived a few minutes before. She ate silently while the skipper and the Dzuna commander talked. Would today be the day? She was scared and unhappy, but she was ready to go through with it. She found that it wasn't easy to swallow, and she was afraid that people would notice, so she sat back, ignored her plate, and confined herself to sipping tea.
Most of the crew had wandered in, still yawning and stretching. They were dozily drinking coffee when Kuth broke off what he was saying and ran his fingers over a plate strapped to his forearm. "The ship is here," he announced through Homer. "It is time."
The skipper's eyes locked with Kiril's for a long second.
"Let's go." Afterwards, Kiril wasn't sure which of them had said it. She got up and noticed Michelle, sitting stone-faced, looking at nothing.
Slow on the uptake, Torwald looked around in puzzlement. "Ship? What the hell is—" But Kiril and the skipper were already following Kuth out of the mess room.
"K'Stin. B'Shant," the skipper called. The two Vivers fell in behind them, blocking the corridor as the rest came pouring out of the galley area, shouting and asking questions.
They came out into the airlock room, where the Vivers picked up the weapon harnesses they had waiting there. "What is this?" Finn shouted. "Hold it! Where are you sending her?"
"Where do you think?" Torwald said. "She's going back up to the Supernova. Why else send the Vivers? Skipper, you can't send that kid back up there, it's certain death!"
"There's no choice," said the skipper. "We have to prevent a war. Maybe she can stop it. It's a chance."
"But it doesn't have to be her!" Torwald protested. "Send me. Send any of us!"
"She has the best chance," said the skipper.
"But we didn't vote on this," Lafayette said.
"This isn't a democracy," said the skipper. "In a matter of this importance, all responsibility rests with me as captain. I say she goes."
"She does not go alone this time," K'Stin said.
"Even you and B'Shant aren't that good," Finn said.
A Dzuna raft floated to the hatch. "Get in," the skipper said.
Torwald, Finn, and Lafayette surged forward. With a backhanded sweep of his arm B'Shant sent the three big men tumbling like dolls to crash into a bulkhead. Ham watched impassively. "You're outclassed, men," said the mate.
"K'Stin," Torwald said. The bigger Viver turned to face him. "If anything happens to Kiril, make sure it happens to you, too. If she doesn't come back, don't you come back, either."
K'Stin made a sound that might have been a laugh. "I choose not to be insulted. If we cannot stop war, we will at least have revenge. We will bring her back unharmed or we will die gloriously. Izquierda and his proud ship will not return to savor the fruits of treachery. If we die, let all know what happens to any who would threaten the Vivers or any under their protection." He shrugged into the weapon-studded harness and climbed onto the raft.
The raft pulled smoothly away from the ship. Kiril avoided looking back. "Skipper," she said, "I think maybe you better not go back there for a while."
The skipper snorted a cloud of cigar smoke. "They'll cool down. They know it had to be done, they just don't like it, that's all. It's part of being skipper, Kiril. You try to be too popular and you start making the wrong decisions. You start trying to keep people happy instead of doing what's best for the ship."
"I know," Kiril said. She sat cross-legged with her arms wrapped around herself. Her stomach felt as if tied in a knot. She doubled over with a spasm of agonizing nausea and clenched her teeth so tightly together that her jaw hurt.
"You okay?" the skipper said. She gripped Kiril's shoulder.
Kiril straightened up. As the spasm passed, the numbing terror dropped away. The fear was still there, but she was used to fear. She had lived with it all her life. "I'm okay," she said, and she meant it. The worst was over. Now that things had at last started, she felt much better. She knew that she would do her best without letting the fear get in the way.
"Here's your signaler," the skipper said. She handed Kiril a flat box with a belt clip. It was the size of Kiril's hand and had a single, square pressure plate in its middle. "I spent half the night cobbling that together. As soon as you have Nagamitsu's attention, hit-that plate. It'll send out two signals simultaneously. One to the instruments on the TFCS, pinpointing the location of the Angel. The other to the Angel herself. When I get that signal, I tell Kuth and he drops the camouflage field. Then Nagamitsu may just have a few minutes to act. Izquierda's people on the TFCS are su
re to tell him what's happened, and he'll be frantic to destroy the Angel, both to get rid of the evidence and as a last chance for revenge."
"You'll evacuate the ship, won't you?" Kiril said. "I mean, there's no sense being there when a bomb hits."
The skipper shrugged. "Any that want to leave can do it."
The raft entered a masking field in a narrow valley. They saw a near-spherical blob with a smooth surface, anchored to the ground by what appeared to be hairy cables. As the raft settled near the sphere, they could see that the "cables" were roots growing from the sides of the thing. There was a gaping hole in the side of the sphere, and it had no visible door or other closure.
"Looks like this is where I leave you," the skipper said. They dismounted and the Vivers looked at the sphere suspiciously.
"This is a ship?" K'Stin said. "It looks like a tumorous growth on a beebleberry plant. Can Vivers commit themselves to so unseemly and ignoble a craft?"
"You must prevent a war," the skipper said. "If war comes to human space, that's Viver space, too. The Dzuna would be an unknown enemy, and the whole Viver race would be endangered."
"That is true," K'Stin said. "There comes a time when individual safety and dignity must be sacrificed for the good of Clan and People." He and B'Shant ducked inside, their harnesses aclatter with swords, daggers, and other lethal hardware.
"That's one good thing about Vivers," the skipper muttered, "their psychology is comparatively simple and straightforward."
"This is . . . pilot Sholk," Kuth said. "He will give you your . . . instructions. Now perform your task." The Dzuna leader turned and walked away.
"He didn't even wish us good luck," Kiril said.
"Maybe he doesn't know how," surmised the skipper. "Anyway, I'll say it. Good luck, Kiril."
"Same to you," Kiril said hastily. She took a deep breath and went inside, followed by the pilot. He looked like all the others, but his harness was bright blue. Kiril turned to see the skipper waving good-bye as the opening grew shut from the edges. A dim light seeped through the sides of the craft.
The pilot faced Kiril. "Sit on the . . . door. This is an . . . escape and rescue craft, not intended for . . . conventional space flight. It will not be a . . . comfortable journey. When we near the nonmilitary ship, you must direct me to the correct dock."
"How?" Kiril said. "I can't see out of this thing."
"When the time comes, you will . . . see as I see."
"1 can point out the right dock," Kiril said, "but I can't open it."
"I will take care of that," the pilot said. "Now sit."
Kiril sat on the soft, springy deck and the Vivers did likewise. Abruptly vines sprung from the walls and wrapped themselves around Kiril and the two Vivers. Even the massive strength of the Vivers was futile against them. "Treachery!" shouted K'Stin, struggling agajnst the vines.
"Easy, K'Stin," Kiril said. "They're just takeoff restraints." She jerked her head towards the pilot. He was likewise restrained where he squatted before a large bump of protoplasm that bulged from one wall. Only his arms were free, and he sunk his fingers into the blob. A pulsing began, accompanied by an almost-subliminal heartbeat rhythm. Far more than the big Dzuna ship they had seen, or the skimming rafts, this craft resembled a living thing. The walls were ribbed with struts or veins and every surface in sight was some kind of living tissue. It was unsettling.
"I feel like I've been swallowed by something," Kiril said.
"Don't talk like that," K'Stin cautioned.
The pilot said something, but Kiril couldn't quite make it out since he was not facing her. The ship took off with such violence that Kiril lost consciousness within seconds. When she woke up, it was dark and she could taste blood in her mouth. In the dimness she could just make out the Vivers, now floating in freefall, with only a single vine holding each.
"How long have I been out?"
"Only a few minutes. The shock did not affect us. These Dzuna are able to withstand G-forces much better than ordinary humans."
"No kidding." She took a kerchief from her pocket and wiped away the blood that had been streaming from her nose. In freefall it had collected into a single blob stuck to her upper lip. "I guess since this is an escape ship, they don't want it to waste any time. I wonder if we can scare up some light?"
K'Stin took a cube from his belt and it began to glow, slowly growing brighter, giving her eyes time to adjust. The pilot paid no attention. "The flight should be short," K'Stin said. "That was a long acceleration. We have been in freefall for only a minute or two. We must discuss our plans. As soon as we are inside the lock, you must show us where the weapons are stored."
"Sure," she said. "If they're still there. Izquierda may have cleared out all evidence of his plan by now."
"We will try," K'Stin said. "We will be at the rear of the ship. You must get forward, to the communication equipment. We will clear a path for you."
"I don't think you should do that," Kiril said. "I think you should be raising hell in some other part of the ship while I make my own way forward. With you, I'll be meeting resistance all the way. But who's going to notice me with all the alarms going off?"
"That is tactically sound," K'Stin admitted, "but I do not want to let you out of my sight. I am charged with protecting you, as well as with stopping Izquierda."
"Come on, K'Stin, what's more important, my life or stopping this thing? Don't get all sentimental on me. The whole crew's been acting like I was their delicate little kid sister who needs to be protected. I was as good as dead when Tor found me. I've had a few good months that're pure bonus time since then. If I go, nobody's lost anything, including me. Now let's go destroy that cancer on the body of humanity, and let's do it my way and cut out all this nonsense."
K'Stin said nothing for a few seconds, then: "We do it your way. You have the soul of a Viver, skinny one."
12
"Come here," the pilot said. They were still decelerating, and there was enough false gravity for Kiril to walk over to the pilot. The vines had dropped away from them when the deceleration had begun an hour before. They had been in flight for about six hours. "Touch the . . . (?)"
There was no translation, but she knew that he meant the bulge of tissue into which his own fingers were sunk. Cautiously she extended her own hands. The stuff was warm and it pulsed faintly. Her fingertips sank into it, an odd but not unpleasant experience. Abruptly she was drifting in a black void, her brain responding directly to the visual receptors of the living "ship." Before them was the vast form of the Supernova. A few kilometers beyond it she could see the TFCS. Whatever masking processes the ships were employing, they were ineffective, at least at this range.
"Where is the hatch?" the pilot said. She heard him clearly, even though her real ears could not respond in this trance state. The window in her mind, the one through which she alone of
the human team had been able to communicate, was fully open.
"Port side. The line of oval hatches beginning amidships. The second from the stern."
"Is the hold mostly forward or aft of the hatch?"
"The hatch is dead center."
"Where is the deck?"
"The bottom of the hatch is flush with the deck."
"That is all I need to know. You may withdraw. Contact in three minutes. Entry a few seconds after that."
Kiril pulled her fingers loose and shook her head. "Get ready. We'll be in there in about three minutes."
K'Stin took a bag from his harness and withdrew a half-dozen plastic balls the size of Kiril's fist. He hung these from his harness and passed the bag to B'Shant, who took the rest of the balls.
"What're those?" Kiril asked suspiciously.
"Grenades," K'Stin said.
"1 thought the skipper kept those things locked up."
"She did. But Ham is a thoughtful and sensible being who does not share her prejudice against damaging ships' hulls when extreme circumstances call for it."
"Yeah, he's a trea
sure, all right," she said, remembering the little dagger that might have saved them all.
A bump went through the little ship and they were in freefall again. One side of the vessel began to flatten, as if it were pressing against some solid surface. A tiny hole appeared in the center of the flattened area. It widened, exposing an expanse of shiny metal. "That's the side of the Supernova!" Kiril said.
A series of small holes opened in the fabric of the Dzuna craft surrounding the opening. There was a sizzling sound. "Acid!" K'Stin said. Fumes began to come from the edges of the exposed metal, and they were sucked up by the surrounding holes. Within ten seconds the metal fell inward, exposing the brilliantly lit interior of the hold.
"In quickly!" K'Stin shouted, "before the self-sealer gets to work." He kicked himself away from a wall and shot through the opening, quickly followed by B'Shant. The two did a flip in midair and landed on their feet within the Supernova's gravity field. Kiril followed more cautiously. Even so, she stumbled
when she crossed the threshold from freefall to gravity.
"Where are the weapons?" K'Stin demanded. Sirens were shrieking throughout the ship and emergency signals flashed in the hold. Behind them the self-sealer oozed from the edges of the hole, hardening as it expanded inward. Within five seconds the breach was sealed.
Kiril scanned the hold. It looked different and much bigger without the ship in it. She spotted a walkway a little above deck level. A row of four doors opened onto the walkway. She pointed. "There! Second door from the left."
The two Vivers covered the distance in a blur. The door on the far right opened and a white-clad mere appeared through it , trying to decide between pulling on a pressure helmet and drawing a pistol. B'Shant's arm flexed casually and a grenade sailed through the door behind the man. There was an eruption of flame and smoke and more alarms began yammering. The Vivers easily leaped the barrier between the deck and the walkway. B'Shant ripped the door open, nearly unhinging it, and K'Stin charged inside with a short, broad-bladed sword in his fist. B'Shant followed instantly.
John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind Page 18