Chapter TWENTY
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.