Van Atta put an extra half meter of distance between himself and the suddenly poetic Security captain.
“Weapons,” Van Atta said. “What kind of weapons does Security have on tap?”
“Stunners,” answered Bannerji, straightening up and studying his right thumbnail. Was there a flash of mockery in his eyes? No, he wouldn’t dare.
“I mean on your shuttle,” said Van Atta irritably. “Ship-mounted weapons. Teeth. You can’t make a threat without teeth.”
“There are two medium-power ship-mounted laser units. Last time we used them was—let me see—to burn through a log snag that had backed up flood waters threatening an exploration camp.”
“Yes, well, it’s more than they have, anyway,” said Van Atta excitedly. “We can attack the Habitat—or the Superjumper—either, really. The main thing is to keep them from connecting with each other. Yes, get the Jumpship first. Without it the Habitat is a sitting target we can polish off at our leisure. Is your security shuttle fueled up and ready to go, Bannerji?”
Dr. Yei had paled. “Hold on! Who’s talking about attacking anything? We haven’t even made verbal contact yet. If the hijackers are indeed quaddies, I’m sure I could persuade them to listen to reason—”
“It’s too late for reason. This situation calls for action.” Van Atta’s humiliation burned hot in his stomach, fueled by fear. When the company brass found out how totally he had lost control—well, he’d better be firmly back in control by then.
“Yes, but…” Yei licked her lips, “it’s all very well to threaten, but the actual use of force is dangerous—maybe destructive—hadn’t you better get some kind of authorization first? If something went horribly wrong, you wouldn’t want to be left holding the bag, surely.”
Van Atta paused. “It would take too much time,” he objected at last. “Maybe a day, to reach District HQ on Orient IV and return. And if they decided it was too hot and bounced it all the way to Apmad on Earth, it could be several days before we got a reply.”
“But it’s going to be several days, isn’t it?” said Yei, watching him intently. “Even if they succeed in fitting the Habitat to the Superjumper, they aren’t going to be able to swing it around and boost it like a fast courier. It would never stand the strain, it would use too much fuel—there’s lots of time yet. Wouldn’t it be better to get authorization, to be safe? Then, if anything went wrong—it wouldn’t be your fault.”
“Well…” Van Atta slowed still further. How typical of Yei’s wishy-washy, wimpy indecision. He could almost hear her, in his head; Now, let’s all sit down and discuss this like reasonable people… He loathed letting her push his buttons; still, she had a valid point: cover-your-ass was a fundamental rule for survival even of the fittest.
“Well… no, dammit! One thing I can damn well guarantee is that GalacTech is going to want this whole fiasco kept quiet. The last thing they’ll want is a lot of rumors flying around about their pet mutants running wild. Better for all of us if this is handled strictly inside Rodeo local space.” He turned to Bannerji. “That’s the first priority, then—you and your men have got to get that Jumpship back, or at least disable it.”
“That,” remarked Bannerji to the air, “would be vandalism. Besides, as has been pointed out before—Shuttleport Three Security is not in your chain of command, Mr. Van Atta.” He glanced significantly at his boss, who stood listening and pulling worriedly on a strand of hair escaped from her sleek coiffure.
“True,” she agreed. “The Habitat may be your problem, Mr. Van Atta, but this Jumpship hijacking is clearly under my jurisdiction, regardless of their connections. And there’s still a cargo shuttle docked up there that’s mine, too, though the Transfer Station reported they picked up its crew from a life pod.”
Van Atta stood fuming, blocked. Blocked by the damned women. It had been Chalopin’s buttons Yei had been aiming for, he realized suddenly, and she’d scored a hit, too. “That’s it, then,” he said through his teeth at last. “We’ll bounce it to HQ. And then we’ll see who’s in charge here.”
Dr. Yei closed her eyes briefly, as if in relief. At a word from Chalopin a comm tech began readying his system for the relay of a scrambled emergency message to District, to be radioed at the speed of light to the wormhole station, recorded and Jumped through on the next available transport, and radio-relayed again to its destination.
“In the meantime,” said Van Atta to Chalopin, “what are you going to do about your,” he drew the word out sarcastically, “hijacking?”
“Proceed with caution,” she replied levelly. “We believe there is a hostage involved, after all.”
“We’re not sure if all the GalacTech staff is off the Habitat yet, either,” put in Dr. Yei.
Van Atta growled, unable to contradict her. But if there were still downsiders being held aboard, senior management must surely realize the need for a swift and vigorous response. He must call the Transfer Station next and get the final head count. If all these dithering idiots were going to force him to sit on his hands for the next several days, he could at least lay his plans for action when he was unleashed.
And he was certain he would be unleashed, sooner or later. He had not failed to read Apmad’s underlying horror of the mutant quaddies. When word of this mess finally arrived on her desk it would goose her three meters straight up in the air, hostages or no hostages—Van Atta’s eyes narrowed. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “we’re not as helpless as you think. Two can play that game—I have a hostage too!”
“You do?” said Dr.Yei, puzzled. Then her hand went to her throat,
“Damn straight. And to think I almost forgot. That four-armed geek Tony is down here!”
Tony was Graf’s teacher’s pet—and that little cunt Claire’s favorite prick, and she was surely a ringleader—if she couldn’t swing this to his advantage, he was dead in the head. He spun on his heel. “Come on, Yei! Those little suckers are going to answer our calls now!”
Jump pilots might swear their ships were beautiful, but really, Leo thought as the D-620 heaved silently into view, the Superjumper looked like nothing so much as a mutant mechanical squid. A pod-like section at the front end contained the control room and crew quarters, protected from the material hazards encountered during acceleration by an oblate laminated shield and from the hazards of radiation by an invisible magnetic cone. Arcing out behind trailed four enormously long, mutually braced arms. Two housed normal space thrusters, two housed the heart of the ship’s purpose, the Necklin field generator rods that spun the ship through wormhole space during a jump. Between the four arms was a huge empty space normally occupied by cargo pods. The bizarre ship would look more sensible when that space was filled with Habitat modules, Leo decided. At that point he would even break down and call it beautiful himself.
With a jerk of his chin Leo called up a vid of his worksuit’s power and supply levels, displayed on the inside of his faceplate. He would have just time to see the first module bundle pushed into place and attached before being forced to take a break and restock his suit. Not that he hadn’t been ready for a break hours ago. He blinked sand and water from his itching, no-doubt-bloodshot eyes, wishing he could rub them, and sucked another mouthful of hot cofiFee from his drink tube. He wanted fresh cofiFee, too. The stuff he was drinking now had been out here as long as he had, and was growing just as chemically vile, opaque and greenish.
The D-620 sidled near the Habitat, matching velocities precisely, and shut down its engines. The flight lights blinked out and the parking lights, signalling that it was safe to approach, flicked on. Banks of floods suddenly illuminated the vast cargo space, as if to say, Welcome aboard.