“Yes, that is a simple matter.”
“Don here,” Commander Trace responded, speaking into his com unit as he sat down wearily on the step. “Is that you, Kea?”
“Yes, Commander. Fifty minutes from your mark.”
Donalt Trace sighed and nodded in dismal agreement to no one in particular. “Wait five more minutes and order a general evacuation from the power core. Seal up the core completely, from one end of the ship to the other. We haven’t found the slightest hint of tampering, much less a bomb. No wonder he was so sure of himself.”
He paused a moment to watch the workers swarming over the surface of the power core, surrounding it in a ring that moved slowly forward. There were fifty live workers and twice as many automatons. In the last three-quarters of an hour they had removed nearly two thousand access panels.
“Go ahead and bypass the power core for the secondary power grid,” he continued. “That way we won’t be caught by surprise when the core blows. If I guess right, you’ll see the Methryn show her broken nose just about the time the thing goes. Draw her in as close as you can; this time we don’t want her getting away.”
“Right,” Maeken agreed. “By the way, that stunned sentry just attacked and destroyed another down in the lower decks. I would like to know how the Starwolf did that. Do you have the device?”
“Well, I…” Trace looked as stunned as the automaton in question.
“Surely you did search him for the device?” Maeken asked.
“I was too preoccupied with worrying about that damned bomb!”
“No wonder he was so sure that he could escape whenever he wants. No doubt he’s been waiting for the core to blow. I suggest…”
“On my way!” Trace assured her as he jumped from the steps and headed for the nearest lift, suddenly very afraid that the little Starwolf had escaped him again. He was actually startled to see Velmeran still seated impatiently on his stool, the alert sentries still standing guard. He stopped short, regarding the mildly surprised captive before arrogantly walking over to hold out an impatient hand.
“There is the matter of the little device that you use to stun my sentries,” he explained. “You should have used it when you had the chance.”
Velmeran’s first reaction was one of complete confusion, but that demand had been fairly self-explanatory and he needed only an instant to figure things out. After a brief hesitation he opened his chestplate and removed a small rectangular device, nine centimeters by five and just over two thick, with several clip-in leads in the back. It looked very impressive, smaller than Trace had anticipated. Unfortunately for him, it was only the emergency power unit for the suit.
“Does this have the same effect on the airlock controls?” Trace asked.
“It has the same effect on a number of electronic devices, including such things as lifts and navigational guidance systems,” Velmeran answered truthfully. Of course, it had no effect on anything as far as he knew.
“Clever little machine,” Trace commented as he tucked it into his pocket. “Are you in any pain?”
“A little discomfort,” Velmeran answered. “An unavoidable part of rapid regeneration. I have nothing to take for it.”
“Oh? What would you need?”
Velmeran thought for a moment. “You might ask Dr. Wriestler if he has any pyridoxine.”
“Right away,” Trace promised as he left on his errand.
Velmeran watched until the door closed behind him, then quickly focused his thoughts on a nearby portion of the ship. Sherry?
I am just finishing, she responded immediately. I will be ready as soon as you can get here. Then I am on my way.
At least Velmeran hoped so. He closed his eyes as he concentrated fully on directing his talents. Half a minute passed before anything began to happen. Suddenly he felt his way begin to open. The lights dimmed, and the sentries reeled momentarily under a loss of power. And Velmeran simply vanished.
Only a matter of seconds passed before Commander Trace returned. He was halfway across the room before he noticed that the five attentive sentries were guarding an empty stool. He nearly tripped in his astonishment. There was only one way in and out of the room, and he had not been out of sight of that door. The sentries continued to stare at the stool as if their prisoner was still seated there, and Trace, startled and confused half out of his wits, walked over to the stool to confirm that the Starwolf was indeed gone.
“How did he escape?” he demanded of the nearest sentry. “You were ordered to shoot to kill if he left the stool.”
“I am aware of my orders,” the sentry reported concisely. “The prisoner did not leave the stool.”
“Well, he sure didn’t take it with him! Where did he go?”
“He vanished.”
Trace blinked in bemusement before realization set in. Velmeran must have had another device, stunning the entire group. This vanishing act sounded too much like that ‘I did not see anyone’ business. He turned and stalked from the room, only to be intercepted at the door by the physician.
“Here you are!” Wriestler said, thrusting a small plastic bottle containing several pills under the Sector Commander’s nose. Trace took the bottle and stared at it.
“What the hell is this?” He demanded.
“What you asked for,” Wriestler explained triumphantly. “Pyridoxine. Vitamin B6.”
16
Rifle in hand, Baress advanced cautiously to the single door leading into the auxiliary bridge and peered out. Consherra, seated at the main computer console, frowned without looking up. Baress was as regular as clockwork; in the last fifty-five minutes he had checked that door exactly fifty-five times.
“Velmeran should be coming in a few minutes,” she remarked. Her four hands were moving over two separate keyboards with lightning speed. “I just told him that I am finishing this up.”
“Right on time,” Baress remarked, consulting the chronometer built into one of the sleeves of his suit. “I wonder what Velmeran has been up to. Whatever he did, every sentry in this end of the ship took off at a run a long time ago and they never came back. For that matter, I wonder where he is.”
“Right behind you.”
Baress was so startled that he spun around and fired two shots from the powerful rifle into the ceiling overheard, and even Consherra nearly fell out of her chair. Velmeran, looking very pale and worn, sat in the Captain’s seat, staring apprehensively at the smoking holes in the ceiling immediately over his head.
“I do not know whether to compliment you for not shooting me, or just be glad you missed,” he remarked, then turned to Consherra. “Close your mouth and get back to work. I want to get out of here.”
Consherra admitted to the logic in that and returned to work.
“But… but how did you get in here?” Baress demanded. “I never left that door.”
“I did not come through the door, I teleported.”
Consherra glanced at him over her shoulder. “I would sooner believe that you put yourself in a box and came through the mail.”
Velmeran shrugged. “Believe what you will. Now that I consider it, I am known for entirely too much wizardry as it is.”
That was the wrong answer, of course. By denying it, he had inadvertently forced Consherra to feel obliged to believe in him. She glared at him. “What have you been doing, anyway? You look about half dead. What happened to your helmet and weapons?”
“Don has them,” he explained. “I have spent the better part of the last hour as his guest.”
“Then you were the grand diversion that brought every sentry on this ship at a run?” Baress asked.