Tin Woodman (15 page)

“So the rift must have been
Tin Woodman’s
destination—the alien went
through
it!”

Oh, God. He means to follow it,
Norlan thought. Desperately, he searched for an argument, any protest which might appeal to Darsen in his fanatical state of mind. Where were Mora and Ston? They had to stall . . . He looked over at Coffer and read similar thoughts on her face.

His own thoughts were interrupted by the blinking out of probe four’s light display.

“Captain, probe four’s gone,” Genson reported immediately. “It passed straight through the rift.”

“You’ve lost its signal entirely?” Darsen demanded.

“Yes, Captain. It was perfectly clear up until the moment the probe contacted the rift’s ‘surface.’ Then the signal stopped.”

“Absorbed by the rift’s field,” Tamner observed.

“That’s one possibility,” Norlan said, “one way of looking at it.” Tamner stared at Norlan, who stood and looked toward Darsen. “The probe’s signals aren’t being absorbed,” he continued. “Not necessarily. I think the probe has passed out of
range
of our receivers.”

“Impossible,” said Darsen, “Our equipment has a range of light-years.”

It was then that the message from Ston and Mora finally came through.

FOURTEEN

“Priority communication. Repeat—priority.” Ston Maurtan released the button and waited for clearance. He smiled and winked at Mora, who stood by the small storage closet where they had placed their “bomb.” Mora tried to smile back, but could not. She was concentrating on lending Ston as much emotional support as possible, but it was all she could do to maintain her own in a semblance of steadiness.
Let it be over quickly,
she prayed.

“They’re probably wrapped up in searching for
Tin Woodman,”
said Ston. “But I should think that Norlan would be ready for our signal.”

Coffer had selected the site well. Immediately below the base of the lift shaft—which made its final stop on the sensor platform—they were in a dimly lit storage room devoted to reserve sensor equipment. There were two points of entry: a set of metal stairs, and a large, simple service elevator which moved only back and forth between the storage room and the floor above it. The first thing Ston had done was to cut that elevator’s wires. Around and about them were the hulking forms of stacked component boxes on shelves with irregular aisles formed between them.

A
terrorist’s paradise,
mused Mora.

“Bridge. Lieutenant Norlan speaking.”

Mora could hear Ston swallow, take a deep breath. “I wish to speak to the captain, Mr. Norlan. And the captain only.”

“Identify yourself and reason for request.”

“My name is Ston Maurtan. I have a bomb.”

There was a long moment of silence.
Notlan’s playing this very well,
thought Mora.

“Would you repeat that, please.”

“I
demand
to speak to Captain Darsen. Immediately.”

Another long pause.

Ston licked his lips.

It had all gone well so far. The package they had carried down the lift and into the storage space had not attracted attention from Security. Evidently most of the attention of the crew had been on the imminent breakout into normal space. No one seemed to notice either Mora or Ston, a covered package tucked under his arm. Even the technicians at the controls on the sensor platform were so busy they failed to see the two as they sneaked down the stairway into the room where they stood now. Mora had been assigned the task of awaiting the breakout from Null-R; she had just returned, after being detained by the crush of people moving about the ship to their various stations.

A hard-edged voice issued from the speaker grille. The captain.

“Who is this? Where are you? We’ve no time for foolish threats. Desist, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

Mora saw Ston smile grimly. “And let this gorgeously crafted bomb go to waste? I wouldn’t think of it, Captain. I can get so much
use out of it.”

“I recognize your voice . . .” sad Darsen. “Maurtan. Ston Maurtan.”

A feeling of
déjà vu
swept through Mora.

“No secret about that, Captain. I identified myself to your man Norlan. But my threats are not frivolous or idle, let me assure you. I’ve got the hardware and the position to back me up. And the resolve. Also, I might add, a deadman’s switch on the bomb’s remote control.”

“Is Mora Elbrun involved?” Pause. “Just what do you want, Maurtan?”

“This is the situation, Captain,” said Ston. “This is what I want.”

Coffer watched as the reaction registered on Captain Darsen’s face: anger, surprise, fear. From the speaker boxes, Ston Maurtan’s voice outlined his position. It was almost better than Coffer had envisioned. But, most important, it was
happening.

“ . . . and now that I’ve told you about the bomb, I’ll tell you how you can ensure it doesn’t detonate. It will kill me, true—but it will also disable the
Pegasus
in a manner you won’t quite be able to deal with, so far away from the Triunion. Quite simply, I want you to turn about and start heading right back the way we came. I think we’re all tired of your little game, Darsen. I think we all want to go home and be done with this foolishness you’ve brought about.”

Darsen jammed down on the communicator button. “You’re insane, Maurtan!” His eyes, Coffer saw from her station, seemed unsure, but his features held onto their almost single-minded appearance of resolve.

“Perhaps, Captain.”

“This must be a bluff,” said Darsen breathlessly. His eyes sought out Tamner’s, Tamner nodded, unemotionally. A scowl of disbelief outlined his face.

“No, Captain,” continued the radio voice. “Not a bluff. I’ve got nothing to lose—and much to gain. After all, you had no business ordering this ship after the alien, did you now? You know as well as I do you received no such orders from Galactic Command. In fact, you can almost say I’m acting on their behalf.”

“You have no right to carry on this way in my ship!”

“Oh—it’s your ship, is it? Not the Triunion’s? Is that what you’re saying?” the voice teased. “Well, no matter. It’s all one. Now as it happens, I also have weapons down here. And sufficient food and water to last for some time. Plus a companion to relieve me if I want to sleep. All I ask is that you simply go back to where we began. Back to where we belong. I won’t be unreasonable. You have thirty minutes to consult with your command officers.
Perhaps you can even take a vote among the crew. But I warn you, if I don’t get the answer I want, I’ll press this little button right away. Understood?”

Darsen leaned forward tiredly. “Yes. Yes. Understood.” He motioned to Norlan to cut off the channel, then turned to face Tamner. The entire bridge crew was silent, all eyes resting on Darsen. In the screens the dazzles of the myriad stars seemed to grow more intense—as though they were a million other eyes, straining to peer into the scene of this peculiar drama.

“Absolutely impossible, Captain,” declared Tamner, striding up to Darsen. “There’s no way they could have made any kind of bomb. The necessary elements are not available.”

Captain Darsen clenched his fists in frustration. “There was no way for Maurtan to get off this ship with Mora Elbrun, either. But he
did
it. I just don’t know . . .” His heels squeaked as he turned to Coffer at her sensor console. “What do
you
say, Coffer? If a bomb tears apart that portion of the hull, will the lower half of the ship depressurize?”

She was surprised that he sought her advice after virtually ignoring her for so long. “Hard to say, Captain. We don’t know what sort of impact the bomb would have—if indeed it’s a bomb.” She could not take any hard stand, she realized. This might be some sort of test. “It seems to me that if it
is
a bomb, and the man does set it off, the principal problem will be that it’s certain to wipe out all the main sensor banks—not to mention the occupants of sleeper deck. And if the device is what Maurtan claims it is—well, there’s no way we can seal off the levels immediately, or for that matter, well enough.”

“Look, Captain,” exclaimed Tamner, now furious. “They’ve given us time to deal with them, even if there
is
a bomb. Let me take a detachment of Security down right away. We’ll take care of them in short order. Meanwhile, take your precautions—”

“You’re right, damn it!” Darsen’s face grew red with his passion. “If we don’t take care of this
now,
nip it in the bud, we’ll have problems like this throughout the ship. We can’t take that chance. We’ve come one hell of a distance—and we’re
not
going to abandon our goal just because of a ridiculous threat.” He turned to Tamner. “Do what you must, Commander. I’ve entrusted inner ship security to you. You may handle this matter in any damned way you like.”

“Right.” Tamner jumped up toward Norlan, brusquely elbowed him aside, and punched out security code. The man ordered up a detachment of twenty-five security officers, instructing the armory guards to break out a suitable complement of weapons. Lasers. Coffer felt a chill of fear for Ston and Mora.

The meeting place of the security men would be sensor deck.

Darsen focused his attention back upon the enigrna before them, ordering a wary but steady approach toward the rift.

Not much time,
thought Coffer.
I’ll give Tamner ten minutes to get out of the way before I
act.

At Darsen’s orders, she directed her attention back to the sensor readouts. But peripherally she watched as Tamner stormed out of the bridge, murderous intent quite visible on his features.

That left two security officers on the bridge.

And one of them was Bisc O’Hari.

“Put your pistol on ‘full,’” said Ston, adjusting his own as he leaned against a wall after making the final check of his mechanism in the closet. “Much as I hate the idea of killing anyone, we’re not playing games here. They certainly intend to kill
us.
We’ll extend the same consideration.”

Mora nodded grimly. She looked down at her weapon. It was a compact ovoid fitted with a trigger handle and a small black nozzle from which the coherent light would emanate. She had never fired one before, let alone
shot
anyone.

“They’ll be charging down that metal staircase,” Ston was saying, stalking about excitedly like some animal before it begins the hunting of its prey. “We’ve got the advantage on them there. Have you got your mask? They might try to throw some sort of gas in-—or maybe feed it through the ventilation system, No telling
what
they’ll do—but whatever it is, they’ll try to accomplish it as fast as possible. And when they find out our bomb threats have been empty—well, we’re
really
going to have to fight for our lives.” He made a quick scan of the area. “We’d best position ourselves.” After directing Mora to stand behind a metal abutment which afforded a thick screen from laser fire, he situated himself beneath a shelf, the base of which lent him similar protection. In his right hand he held his weapon, safety off; in his left was the remote control device which would detonate the smoke bomb, his finger on the deadman switch.

They waited.

Her chronometer showed that five minutes had passed since Ston had finished delivering his ultimatum. To Mora, it seemed much longer than that. Doubts raged in her mind, Chances were, they might be killed. And would this diversion really matter in the long run? Was it worth it? Perhaps Ston should have refused Coffer’s request. Maybe they should have played it safe, kept their heads low throughout the whole affair.

But she knew that Ston would have had none of
that.
And, she admitted to herself, they had done what they had to.

There was a sudden squeak from down the aisle. A ragged hum of malfunctioning machinery.

“They’re trying the service elevator,” said Ston. “Good thing the operation wires are down here, or they could fix them. This way they have to come down a couple at a time—and very carefully.”

Those noises ceased.

She and Ston were on opposite sides of the aisle which ended at the base of the stairway from the sensor platform. Mora had a clear view of its doorway. She drew a bead on it, practicing.

The moments passed. The silence grew thick, oppressive.

When the sound finally came, it was like a shattering explosion, even though it was only the door at the top of the stairs being opened.

Mora braced herself.

The steady, metallic
clop clop clop
of feet hitting stairsteps descended on them, like a droning, toneless bell of doom.

But it was only one set of feet. Only one person was coming down. No furious rush of scrabbling boots, no clicking of weapons. Only the steady
clop clop clop
.

Suddenly, Mora was aware of the heavy scent of her own perspiration. It smelled like fear.

A dark shadow bulked suddenly large in the doorway. It took a step closer, and the dark shadow’s face seemed to resolve from vague darkness into recognizable human features.

The features of Lieutenant Commander Jin Tamner.

He wore no body armor. His arms were raised, his hands empty. About his waist was a holster. His laser pistol was in that holster. There was no expression on his face.

“I’ve come to talk with you,” he said, simply. Mora could see his eyes glancing about, trying to pinpoint their locations. “You
are
here, aren’t you?”

Ston spoke. “Oh yes. We’re here. We asked that no one should come down here. You’re lucky we haven’t killed you. You’re even luckier that we haven’t interpreted this as a hostile action, and triggered the bomb.”

“Hostile?” Tamner waved a hand slightly. “I present no threat to you at the moment. I’m out in the open. You’re well protected. I’m not even quite sure where you are. The lighting isn’t all that great down here. No. No threat. The captain sent me down to reason with you. You chose a very inopportune time for this little, foolish game. The
Pegasus
is on the verge of perhaps the greatest accomplishment in human history. We’ll all be renowned for this exploit. Why should we mar it with this little business?”

“Is that what you’re after, Tamner?” said Ston. “Fame? A feeling of importance? Is
this
why you’ve aided Darsen’s stupid, foolish quest so loyally?”

The man shrugged. “I’d hardly qualify
that
as the only reason, but I wouldn’t dismiss it as part of it. But that’s neither here nor there in our discussion. I’ve come here to parlay with you. Come to terms. Most likely, you haven’t
got
a bomb stashed away down here. The whole idea is stupid, childish. We hardly think you’d sacrifice your lives and kill hundreds, just to alter this ship’s course. You and Mora—yes, she
is
down here, isn’t she?—aren’t the wisest individuals I’ve ever encountered. But neither are you the maniacs you’d like us to believe you are now. No. I interpret this as just another of your bids for attention. And so does the captain. We’re willing to forgive. So why don’t you just come along with me, peacefully. We’ll have to lock you in the brig for a time. But just long enough to see that you don’t interfere with this delicate situation we on the bridge find ourselves in. And then we’ll let you go, and attribute this rash, foolish threat to the strain we’ve, all been under. We won’t record it—no one else win ever know. All you have to do is to come out, and come with me. That’s all we ask—and in reward for your co-operation, Galactic Command wll never find out.”