by Timothy Zahn
"Help me sort out this chicken scratching," the man said, flicking a finger toward a set of papers taped to the front of the console.
Almost there. "Sure," Jack said, picking up his pace a little. Almost there.
He was two steps away when the man finally looked up.
Keep going, Draycos urged.
For that first fraction of a second the man's expression went blank, his brain apparently slip-skidding like an amusement park bump car. Then, abruptly, his wheels seemed to catch traction again. His eyes widened; and as Jack closed the final step, he opened his mouth.
The warning shout never came. Through the opening in Jack's flight suit, looking for all the world like some shock-movie alien larva emerging from its reluctant host, Draycos's foreleg lanced out . . .
. . . the paw catching the man solidly around his throat.
The mercenary jerked backward, his wide eyes going even wider. Or, rather, he tried to jerk backward. But Draycos had him in a solid grip, and there was no escape.
He grabbed at the K'da's paw, trying to pry it loose. But Draycos had cut off the man's air supply, and as Jack watched tensely the clutching hands went weak and limp. Belatedly, he seemed to remember he was armed, and dropped his right hand to the gun holstered at his belt.
But it was too late. The hand scrabbled for a second at the gun, then went still. The man's eyelids sagged, the eyes behind them rolled upward, and he was out of the fight.
The controls, Draycos's thought whispered through Jack's mind.
Jack glanced around. The attack had been so quick and quiet that none of the Brummgas seemed to have noticed that anything had happened. Even now, with Jack standing close to the unconscious man and Draycos's half-hidden foreleg keeping the other from collapsing to the floor, there was little for them to notice. What do I do? Jack asked.
Move around behind him, the K'da instructed. I first need to see if he finished programming in the target system.
It was quickly apparent that the man had only gotten halfway through that part of the task. Fortunately, he'd written the coordinates on a small mark board taped beside the cheat sheets Jack had already noticed. With Draycos giving him step-by-step instructions, he got the rest of the destination programmed in.
The center section runs the countdown sequence, Draycos continued when Jack had finished. Activate it with the two keys beneath the leftmost display.
Got it. Jack touched the keys.
"Williams, what's the holdup?" a voice called from a speaker across the room. "Come on; get your butt off standby."
"Off standby and shaking," Jack called back. "Sequence is going."
"Who's that, Chiggers?" the voice demanded. "What are you doing in there?"
"Williams needed help; I'm helping," Jack told him. "What's going on, anyway?"
"Who the frunge knows?" the voice growled. "We're suddenly doing a six-day evasive to Point Three instead of going straight there. Something to do with that Pergnoir-7 that blew in a few minutes ago, I think."
Jack felt his throat tighten. Wasn't that the class of ship Alison had said the Essenay was? "I suppose someone'll tell us when they figure we need to know," he managed.
"Sure they will," the voice said. "You said the timer's going?"
Jack looked helplessly around for the proper display. He had no idea which one it was.
Three minutes to fall charge, Draycos told him.
"Three minutes," Jack said.
There was a grunt, and the other voice fell silent.
Do you think the ship he mentioned could be the Essenay? Draycos asked.
You know any other Pergnoir-7s that might be wandering around the area? Jack retorted, looking around. There didn't seem to be any external displays in the room. We've got to find out what's going on out there.
There's a monitor station out the door to the left, Draycos said. They may have it activated.
Good. Let me have his head.
The K'da foreleg stretching out through Jack's flight suit released its grip on Williams's neck. Jack eased the man's head against the chair's headrest, balancing it to stay as upright as he could.
The result wasn't very convincing, he knew. Especially since Williams's eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly open.
But the Brummgas in the room didn't seem particularly attentive. Hopefully, the deception would last long enough. Stepping away from the slumped figure, Jack headed for the door.
Three Brummgas were in the monitor station, standing beside the too-small chairs and gazing at the wall of displays. Most of the screens showed views of the Foxwolf's interior, but Jack spotted three that were linked to exterior cameras. One of them showed a telescopic view of the Advocatus Diaboli.
And docked beside it, looking like a baby whale nuzzling up to its mother, was the Essenay.
Before Jack could get more than that one quick look, there was a single warning hoot from somewhere, and the view dissolved into the blue of hyperspace.
Was it the Essenay? Draycos asked. I couldn't tell.
It was, Jack said grimly. What in space is Uncle Virge up to?
Draycos was silent a moment. If it is Uncle Virge, he said at last.
No, Jack said firmly. Harper and Chiggers couldn't have gotten loose.
We will hope not, Draycos said. In the meantime, we have a job to do.
Abruptly, Jack realized he was still standing in the monitor room doorway. Right, he said, trying to shake away the image of Harper or Chiggers running loose on his ship. Where do we go?
Look at the two monitors at the left end of the second row, Draycos said.
Jack did so. The two displays seemed to be showing different angles of the same room. Aside from a single large machine in the center, the room was mostly empty, though he could see the places where other equipment or chairs had once been bolted to the floor.
He focused on the machine. It was roughly cylindrical in shape, about six feet long, with rounded ends and a slight bend in the center. The surface was dark brown and covered with tiny black spots. At one end were a set of handgrips and a small square pattern of muted blue lights. The whole thing was mounted on a pedestal swivel arrangement. Looks like a giant Polish sausage, Jack commented. What is it?
Draycos's tone seemed to darken. It is the Death. Jack swallowed hard. The device looked so innocent. Comical, even, for something that had caused so much destruction and misery.
He glanced across the other monitors. Now that he knew what to look for, and adjusting for the multiple views, it looked as if there were three more of the weapons elsewhere aboard. Got it, he said, backing out of the room. How do I get there?
Out the door and to your left, Draycos said.
Okay, Jack said grimly. Let's go have us an old-fashioned wienie roast.
He'd made it past one more doorway when there was a sudden hoot like the one he'd heard just before the Foxwolf went into hyperspace. "Medical unit to ECHO room," a Brummgan voice bellowed over hidden loudspeakers.
Looks like someone finally noticed Williams, Jack said.
There's a door up here on the left, Draycos said urgently. Hurry—we need to get out of sight.
Easy, Jack soothed him. Ahead, Brummgas were starting to stream into sight as they left their bored lounging and headed aft to see what was happening. Hurrying people make other people wonder why they're hurrying.
But you're going the wrong direction, Draycos objected. You should be heading back to the ECHO room.
Why? Jack countered. I'm a fighter pilot, not a medic.
But—
Trust me, Jack said. First of all, there shouldn't be any bruises on Williams's neck yet, so they'll just think he's fainted or something. Nothing to get excited about. Second, there was no mention that it was a human who needed help. With the number of Brummgas aboard, Chiggers would naturally assume it was one of them.
Even so, wouldn't Chiggers at least want to know what the problem was?
Not Chiggers, Jack said. I get the feel
ing he doesn't much care about anyone. And vice versa.
Sure enough, none of the Brummgas gave Jack so much as a second glance as they lumbered past. Jack continued forward, keeping an ear cocked for the sound of any of Chiggers's fellow humans.
But to his surprise, he saw no one. It was as if Neverlin had simply turned the Foxwolf over to the Brummgas and Valahgua. This doesn't make any sense at all, Jack commented as Draycos directed him into another corridor. The way Alison was talking, it didn't sound like Neverlin trusted the Patri Chookoock any farther than he could push him uphill
Perhaps he's relying on the Valahgua to keep the Brummgas in line, Draycos suggested. Certainly they have the most to lose if something happens to the ship or the Death weapons.
Good point, Jack agreed, trying to think. Back on Brum-a-dum, he knew, Alison had tried to sow a little dissention between Neverlin, Frost, and the Patri Chookoock. Maybe he and Draycos could stir up a little distrust of their own between the Valahgua and Brummgas.
The Number Two weapons bay is around the next corner to the left, Draycos warned. The Death weapon is mounted in the bay's auxiliary control room.
Any idea how many Valahgua might be aboard?
There will be at least nine, Draycos said. A Death weapon requires one operator and one controller, There will also be a Lordover in command aboard this ship, plus a Lordhighest in overall command, probably on the Advocatus Diaboli with Neverlin and Frost.
How good are they at hand-to-hand fighting?
Adequate, Draycos said. But the K'da and Shontine are far better. It is only the Death that gives the Valahgua their advantage.
Ah. Though at nine-to-one odds, Jack noted privately, the Valahgua didn't have to be particularly good to still win out in a straight-up, toe-to-claw fight. He and Draycos would have to make sure that didn't happen.
He rounded the final corner and found himself facing an orange-rimmed door fifteen feet away, flanked by a pair of armed Brummgas. That's it? Jack asked.
That's it, Draycos confirmed. You'll need to bring me as close as you can.
Easy, Jack cautioned as he strode toward the guards. To his eye, the Brummgas didn't look particularly alert. Certainly not as alert as someone guarding the ultimate weapon ought to look.
In fact, come to think of it, they looked bored and even a bit resentful.
Small wonder. Here in the middle of a ship populated entirely by their friends and allies, guard duty would seem pretty unnecessary.
They would have a rude awakening on that point soon enough. In the meantime, a pair of bored guards opened up some intriguing possibilities. What did you call the Valahgua head honcho again? he asked Draycos.
The Lordover, Draycos said. You have a plan?
I'm thinking we might try the subtle approach first, Jack told him, glancing casually around. Besides the two guards, there didn't seem to be anyone else around. We can always kick butt later if we have to.
"What do you wish?" one of the guards demanded.
"What do you think I wish?" Jack retorted. "The last diagnostic on the big gun came back a little iffy, and the Lordover wanted me to run a quick check."
The Brummgas looked at each other, and Jack held his breath. If they decided to call the Valahgua to check on the order, Draycos was going to get some exercise after all. "Come on; come on," Jack growled, waving toward the door behind them. "I haven't got all day."
"No one is permitted to be inside with the weapon," one of the Brummgas rumbled.
"No one is permitted to be alone inside with the weapon," Jack countered. The trick with Brummgas was to stay one step ahead of their mental processes. "Read your standing orders sometime, will you? So open up and we'll all go in together."
The aliens exchanged a second uncertain glance. "All of us, together?" the same one asked.
"I'm not supposed to be in there alone, remember?" Jack reminded him, putting some strained patience into his voice. "Besides, I'm going to need an extra hand or two."
"Yet the orders also state that we cannot leave the door unguarded."
"Then you wait out here, and your buddy can come in with me, and everyone'll be happy," Jack said.
The Brummga drew himself up. "No," he stated firmly. "He will stay. I will go." He gestured, and his companion stepped back to the door control. "But I will watch you closely," he added warningly.
"Fine by me," Jack said. "Can we please just get to it?"
The Brummga gestured again. His companion keyed the control, and the door slid open. Squaring his shoulders, Jack stepped between the aliens and into the doorway.
And found himself face-to-face with the Death.
Viewing it on the monitor, Jack had been able to appreciate both its comical appearance as well as its more deadly aspects. But no more. Here, standing in its presence, he could see nothing amusing about it at all. The device reeked of destruction and anger, of hatred and pride and a lust for power.
All tools and weapons, Uncle Virgil had once said, could be used for both good and bad. They could be a help in Jack's work, or could throw a snarl-up in his path.
But the Death was different. There was no useful task to which it could be put, no role of defense or creation that its technology could provide. All it could do was kill, without discrimination or restraint or mercy.
It was pure evil.
Jack felt a cold shiver run up his back. Uncle Virgil, he knew, would have immediately looked for ways the Death could be of use to him, as either a prize to ransom or a commodity to sell to the highest bidder. Jack himself, a year or two ago, would probably not have approved, but he would probably not have voiced any serious objections, either.
Not so the Jack Morgan of the present. This Jack Morgan could recognize the need to destroy this device. And he was ready and willing to do so.
Six months of living with a poet-warrior of the K'da had turned Jack into a person he'd never thought he could be. A person he'd never even dreamed he could be.
He was going to do what was right. Not because he stood to gain a thing from it, but just because it was right.
And despite the danger all around him, it felt good. It felt really good.
Jack?
With an effort, Jack shook away the sudden rush of feelings. The self-evaluation and warm fuzzies could wait until later. Right now, he had a job to do.
He eyed the Death, doing a quick mental calculation. Assuming the device hadn't been moved since his visit to the monitor room, one of the two cameras in the room had to be directly above the door, while the other was across in the far left-hand corner. A simple, straightforward arrangement, and one that covered the room quite adequately.
Unfortunately for Frost, the people who'd installed them had made the classic mistake of mounting both cameras out of the way near the ceiling. As long as Jack kept his head down, he should be able to keep his face off the monitors.
He stepped inside, looking down at his waist as he pulled out his multitool. Have you gotten close enough to Valahguan equipment over the years to know what kind of fasteners they use? he asked Draycos.
I have, Draycos said. They're like human-style screws, but with a triangular hole in the end.
Jack winced. His multitool had screwdriver blades with both cross-headed and square-headed tips. But a triangular tip was something new. I suppose it's too late to tell them I need to go get a tool kit?
Definitely, Draycos said. But I think one jaw from your needle-nose pliers will work.
I hope you're right. Jack reached the Death and leaned over the blue-light panel as if examining it. Control circuitry?
Beneath a cover plate on the underside, directly under the status light display.
Jack finished his examination and crouched down beside the weapon, using its bulk to block the relevant camera's view of his face. He found the access cover plate right where Draycos had said it would be, held in place at its four corners by the odd-looking triangle-holed screws. Mentally crossing his fingers, he opened his needl
e-nose pliers and inserted the tip of one jaw into the nearest screw.
The fit wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. Be careful—the thread is left-handed, Draycos warned. It works the opposite way from human designs.
Thanks. Jack turned the proper direction, and the screw began to loosen.
"You don't have right tools," the Brummga said, sounding more confused than suspicious. "Why don't you have right tools?"
"You've got to be kidding," Jack said with a snort. "Those Valahgua tools are for sissies." He got the panel off and laid it aside, then flicked on his flashlight and pointed it up into the opening.
Inside was a maze of wires, four rectangular circuit boards with neat rows of small components, and a few larger, thumb-sized modules wired separately into the system. Jack had dealt with his share of electronic designs over the years, but this one was completely unlike anything he'd ever seen.
But there were certain constants in every electronic design, constants forced by the laws of physics. Control circuits, which always ran on low voltage, were connected together by thin wires. Power supplies, which ran much higher voltage, required thicker wires and heavier insulation.
And if the high-voltage current from the power circuits ever wandered over into the control circuits, trouble was pretty much guaranteed.
Reaching a hand to the top of the weapon. Jack tapped one of the handles. "Hold it right here," he told the Brummga. "Keep it real steady. And don't bump any of the controls."
The Brummga did as instructed. Pulling out one of his multitool's special blades, Jack touched it to one of the thicker wires. The indicator light remained dark, confirming that there was no current flowing there at the moment. He checked two other wires, then replaced the sensor and pulled out a slender knife.
The operation took less than a minute. "Okay, I think I got it," he announced as he began screwing the cover plate back into place. "But don't let go until I tell you."
He finished with the plate and stood up, vigorously rubbing his forehead to again block any view of his face. "Thanks," he told the Brummga as he turned and strode back to the door, bowing his head as if he were checking on his multitool as he put it back into his pocket. "I'll let you get back to your exciting guard duty."