Jon Kane's compact quarters seemed more restricted than ever; the
curved bulkheads closed in upon him, and he was an animal in a trap.
Waiting, he thought, for the slaughter. He knew it would be that. He
would not have a chance when his trial resumed. There would be no way
of tricking B-Haaq into admitting the thing he'd done, and no matter
how the charge were uttered, it would be the charge of a prisoner, and
would fall on less than unsympathetic ears. And of course with the
spacetender so many blasted atoms adrift in Infinity, there could be no
proof.
Why did B-Haaq hate him so? This was more than an officer simply doing
his duty as he saw it--this was singular, personal hatred! But why?
He glanced for the tenth time in thirty minutes at his wristime; the
sleeping-period was half over, and he knew he would probably be awake
for the remaining half. And the remaining half was so slow in going. If
only there were something he could _do_. If he could only build another
unit and install it himself! If--
Fully clothed, he sat up in his bunk. Hesitated only a moment, then
crossed the small cubicle to its single narrow hatch. The simple
time-lock that secured it was all that held him prisoner--a traditional
matter of form, since any skillful mastertech could, with a length of
slender wire, applied in the right places....
The plan took shape in his mind in the few moments it took him to
render the sensitive mechanism useless; it had been rigged for alarm,
but the alarm never sounded. In a moment he was on the catwalk.
He strode swiftly and silently, the fine length of wire still in one
hand. He almost passed the seldom used hatch when he came to it, so
cleanly was it hinged into its bulkhead. But he knew what was beyond
it, and the knowledge seemed to hasten his skillful fingers. Within
moments, the hatch opened soundlessly, and he was inside the chamber.
The Flagship's armory.
Were it not for the labortech articifers, the neatly stacked weapons
would have been rusted, useless things long since. "For use ONLY on
alien, unknown and possibly hostile planets" the ITA regulations read.
It was a rule that applied throughout the entire fleet, and as far as
he knew, had been all but forgotten. For within the scope of the ITA's
interest there no longer were any "alien, unknown and possibly hostile
planets," and on the rest, arms had been unnecessary to the ITA for
centuries. For it had a far more powerful weapon than any it could
devise of metal. It had merely to refuse its services for awhile.
A smile spread slowly across Jon's face as he began a selective
examination of the weapons. Maybe he'd even find a longbow! Lord,
here was even a device that propelled small projectiles by means of
explosive cartridges! These things had been unnecessary for centuries!
But slowly, the smile changed to a worried frown. First one weapon and
then another he discarded, and then another.
But he must find one! And then he could make B-Haaq admit what he'd
done.
It was a muffled, metallic sound but it registered on his consciousness
and he whirled. Even as he came erect the lights glared suddenly at
full strength; whoever had so silently stepped in behind him had lost
no time in finding the bulkhead transformer stud.
It was the sleep period duty officer, and a hastily snatched hand gun
was levelled at him.
And even in the sudden brilliance of the lights, he recognized her.
Lenantech Deanne Starn, the Gentech's niece, herself!
"Get your hands up, Cadet!"
"Why? The thing you've got in your hand hasn't held a charge since
Hanna grew teeveeyes." He grinned. Even in the white glare, she wasn't
hard to look at. There were a number of stories that had circulated
their way through the cadet quarters, but then. Most rumors had it that
B-Haaq himself was the lucky man, and there were few others that held
differently. Those of the ship's women who didn't have the slender
figure, the crisp cut pale blonde hair or the wide blue eyes and fine
features and quick, alert mind that so typified the family of Starn
were never too badly off, for that reason. For to the men aboard, she
was B-Haaq's, and that was the end of it!
She seemed not to have heard what he said.
"You're Cadtech Kane, aren't you? Do you think this additional charge
of attempted unlawful procurement of arms is going to help your case to
any extent?"
"I did think so, yes."
"You're as good as in the mines now. And I don't follow your logic.
Don't move a muscle!"
"You might as well throw that thing away, Lenantech, it's no good. I'm
still looking for one that is, myself. And if you're going to report
me, I'm certainly not going to try to stop you. That'd just get me in
even deeper, wouldn't it?"
Her features were white, motionless. Only her wrist moved; she
deflected the muzzle of her weapon but a fraction of an inch and
squeezed the trigger.
The gun clicked emptily, and that was all it did.
"You--"
"I nothing. Just told you. Look, Lenantech, people have shot at me with
longbows, hauled me almost naked through the deserts of Prokyfive, beat
me with lashes, and sabotaged me. Now I've had enough."
"You're not making any sense to me, Master Kane. You have just one
minute to get out of here, or--"
"You mean you wouldn't report me if I did?"