The next two hours were given to rushing along
passageways, climbing companionways and ladders,
and crawling along narrow walkways. Several turrets
could only be reached from the outside; Kumiko's
advice to wear suits proved sound.
At each gun emplacement, Rimov, his guards and
Scarf watched Brad and Kumiko inspect sector
guides, range and directional interlocks and power
drives.
Once satisfied that a gun emplacement was not
booby-trapped, Kumiko inserted random realignment
parameters into laser blocks, twirled tracking
sequencers into disarray, and switched about chips
and connectors. When she was done with a turret,
the gun had a zero firing potential, and would take
hours to repair, calibrate and test.
Brad noted that Rimov, following Kumiko's work
closely, showed grudging admiration in his eyes.
She was disabling the guns with gentle care, not
damaging them, and Rimov knew it.
Finally, they were at the ship's bow. The final
turret had been rendered inoperative.
Brad faced Rimov.
"We'll be on our way. Back to the air lock."
Brad was relieved. They would soon be in the
utility, heading back to the Dragon, the job done.
Even Scarf could not fault them. Scarf's report
might even work to the Sentinel's advantage.
Rimov took the lead. The deckhands seemed less
tense. They sensed that Rimov was impressed
by Kumiko's professionalism, and they, too, had
observed the consideration that Kumiko had shown
for the ship's equipment. She was obviously not
a crowbar techie.
They moved toward the air lock single file, Rimov
in the lead, Brad, Kumiko and Scarf following, and
the four deckhands, two abreast, in the rear.
Rounding a corner, they stopped. Ahead, three
men crouched, laser-rifles at their shoulders
aimed at them.
"Rimov, and you guys in the rear, outta the way.
We're puttin' these bastards down."
The order came from a short, blond-haired buck,
eyes glaring above his gunfight.
"Wait," Rimov screamed. "What's the hell's goin'
on, Cordy? These guys got safe conduct from Bura."
"I don't buy that, Rimov. We got the word down
below that the ship's bein' taken over by Narval's
goons. We're gonna stop 'em. Come for'ard,
I'm tellin' ya. They're goin' down, right now. Get
ready, Joe, Pete."
The two guards behind Scarf and Kumiko dropped
to the deck and snaked back around the corner.
They were not about to shoot at shipmates.
Rimov dashed toward Cordy, his arms waving.
"Don't fire. Back off," he shouted.
The men with the rifles were momentarily confused,
uncertain; one began to lower his weapon. Rimov
was a ship's officer; they would be in deep trouble
if they disobeyed.
Without warning, the decision was taken from them.
Scarf panicked.
Stepping back and behind Kumiko, using her as
his shield, he frantically jerked his heavy hand
weapon loose, at the same time crouching in firing
position. Gripping the weapon with both hands,
he rammed the setting into max and fired around
Kumiko. Brad was out of his momentary line of
fire. Not so Rimov.
The burst hit Rimov between the shoulder blades.
There was a sharp, crackling sound as cloth and
Rimov's flesh carbonized. He fell forward, dead
before he struck the deck.
No one moved. Cordy and his men stared at their
fallen officer.
Brad didn't wait for them to recover.
"Back," he shouted to Kumiko and Scarf. "Around
the bend. Now."
Kumiko whirled and raced around the corner.
Scarf rolled back on to his feet and dashed after
her. Brad followed.
Rimov's guards were nowhere in sight.
There was a roar of rage behind them.
Cordy.
"They shot Rimov. After 'em. Shoot to kill."
The passageway was long; they would be at the
wrong end of a shooting gallery as soon as Cordy
reached the bend. The only break was a narrow
ladder through a hatch in the overhead.
"Up," Brad commanded. "Fast."
Kumiko first, then Scarf. Brad followed.
As Brad drew his legs up through the hatchway
a searing blast struck the frame, missing him
by centimeters. Brad twisted away as another
bolt flashed up through the hatch, scorching
the bulkhead from which he had just moved.
Brad shouted down. "First guy who shoves his head
through the hatch gets it burned off." Turning to
Kumiko and Scarf he whispered, "That won't hold
them for long."
"Listen, about that shooting...", Scarf began.
Brad snapped him short with an impatient gesture.
"Not now. Let's get to the utility."
They looked around. The space was almost dark;
the only light from widely spaced, low-power
neutro-lamps. They were standing on a narrow
platform, little more than a ledge, from which a
catwalk bridged a complex of girders and cables.
Brad mentally reconstructed their route before
Cordy's challenge. The portal through which they
boarded should be within fifty meters of where
they crouched. Their lives depended on the catwalk
passing close to it.
Studying the arrangement of the structures around
them and the coding on cable bundles, Brad peered
along the catwalk, first in one direction, then the
opposite.
He looked at the open hatch and shouted down. "We
demand safe conduct to our ship. Do you hear me?"
Silence.
Scarf shoved his face close to Brad.
"Are you kiddin'?" he said, his tone expressing his
disbelief. "I just killed one of their men. They're
not gonna give us safe conduct anywhere."
"I know that," Brad replied. "Even if they do
promise us safe conduct, it'll be just to get at
us. I want them to think we're going to hole up
here until they give us an answer. Bura must know
by now. We've got to get off before he personally
takes charge of the search."
Brad again scrutinized the ship's stringers and
cable insulation colors. He pointed.
"Stay close."
They crossed stretches where ledges and walkways
narrowed abruptly to barely enough for passage.
Sharp projections along the way snagged and abraded
their protective suits. They realized that they
might face serious seepage from their suits as
soon as they entered the vacuum of space.
A sudden, raking fire erupted behind them. Metal
frames around them darkened from the bolts of
energy.
Scarf jerked his weapon and returned the shots
before Brad could stop him. The flash of his weapon
provided the ideal target, and brought concentrated
fire in return.
Stooping and sliding, Brad and Kumiko stumbled
forward. Scarf scrambled along behind, firing
haphazardly to the rear.
Scarf howled with sudden pain. Brad looked back. In
the dim light, Scarf hung over a girder, motionless.
Brad raced back to his side. A wide strip from
sleeve and shoulder was burned away; blood oozed.
Kumiko bent beside Brad. She yanked her glove
off, reached in through the still smoking sleeve
and felt for a pulse in Scarf's neck.
"Alive."
She stepped back. Brad, in the cramped space,
hauled the unconscious Scarf upright, bent, and
with Kumiko's help, lifted him on to Brad's back.
Scarf's scream of pain had brought a pause to
the firing.
Grasping stanchions and cables for support,
Brad staggered along the catwalk.
"Hatch up ahead."
"Might be it."
Brad gasped. Even in the light pseudo-gravity,
Scarf's bulk was hard to maneuver.
"Take a peek."
Kumiko was gone and back in an instant.
"Looks clear."
"No choice. Down you go. I'll drop him through."
Kumiko dropped out of sight. Brad thrust Scarf
through the hatch and followed. The drop was not
deep.
The number 4 air lock was less than ten meters
ahead. Brad heaved Scarf across his shoulders, and
with Kumiko leading the way, they rushed toward it.
The deck carried the slap of running feet, fast and
closing.
Cordy appeared at the end of the passage. Seeing
them, he crouched on one knee and raised his weapon.
Kumiko beat him; at the sound of running, she had
raised her sidearm. As Cordy took aim, she fired.
Cordy fell back, stunned.
Brad had the door to the outer air lock open, Scarf
on the deck inside. Kumiko rushed past Brad and
he slammed the door and clipped it sealed. She
snatched an emergency space stretcher from
a bulkhead rack and snapped it open. It took the
two of them to roll Scarf's inert body into the
envelope, seal it around him and start an oxygen
flow.
They snapped their faceplates closed. Brad hit
switches. The outer portals slid apart. The catwalk
and other connections to the utility were still in
place. Carrying the stretcher between them, they
crossed over.