'Cowards!' General Briggs screeched. He bent and grabbed up the steel bar that the guard had dropped. 'Not a man among you. Follow me - this one won't shoot, kill in cold blood. He's a bigger coward than all of you.' He started forward.
I wouldn't if I were you,' Kurikka said. Then he cocked the heavy hammer and the clack was loud in the silence. The gun was steady.
'You won't shoot,' Briggs sneered, raising his weapon.
'Anyone else I would, but not you,' the Chief said, lowering the gun. 'I want to see you on trial.'
Shouting victoriously, the general swung the bar at the Chief's head.
For a big man the Chief moved as swiftly as a cat. He stepped forward a single pace and blocked the rush of the blow with his upraised arm - letting the general's forearm strike against the metal pistol butt. There was a gasp of agony and the bar slipped from Briggs' paralysed fingers. Pivoting on his toes, Kurikka brought his left fist up in a short, wicked jab to the other man's midriff.
The general folded, curled up, falling down and out upon the deck. Kurikka ignored him and pointed the weapon at the men in the doorway.
I will now shoot any man who does not drop his weapon. Drop it!'
There was no doubt that he meant it. The bars and clubs clanged to the floor and the piracy was over. Kurikka looked down at the still form of the general and his bleak face broke into a humourless smile.
'You have no idea what pleasure that gave me,' he said.
Don went to Doyle who had collapsed, green-faced, in his chair, and examined the neat bullet-hole in his forearm.
'National Pistol Champion,' Kurikka said. 'I never miss.'
Don shook antibiotic powder on the wound and snapped open a pressure bandage. He looked up abruptly when his fingers touched Doyle's skin: he pushed a telltale against the arm.
'Doyle has it,' he said. 'A temperature of 103.'
'I am not surprised,' Dr Ugalde said. 'I did not wish to mention it earlier, it would just have caused confusion, but I am forced to admit that my own temperature has been above normal for the past few hours, and that I am feeling distinct pains of an uncomfortable sort.'
'Kurikka,' Don said, 'we have to find that meteorite, as quickly as we can. We've run out of time.'
They looked at each other, and each man saw his own cold fear reflected in the other's eyes.
'Another jury-rig,' Sparks said. 'Do you think it will do the job?'
'It pretty well has to, doesn't it?' Don asked, trying not to be depressed as he looked at the collection of plundered equipment that sprawled across the tiny bench in the sick bay laboratory. 'The theory is right, and we checked it out with the hospital at Mars Central. They have built a duplicate of this thing, using the same parts, and it worked fine on the test run. If we follow their instructions we should be able to run duplication on any R.N.A. we find, and prepare a viricidal agent.' If we find any, he added silently to himself.
All the hectic work of the past ten hours would be useless if there were no meteorite there. Or if the theory were wrong, and the chunk of space rock had nothing to do with the disease. There were too many ifs...
But it was the only chance they had. He pushed one leg into the spacesuit as Kurikka came in. He was wearing his suit, with the helmet hanging, and he carried a steel canister.
I hope it will be big enough,' he said.
'It has to be. It is bigger than the entrance hole the meteorite made, so whatever we find should fit into it. How does it work?'
Kurikka flipped up the flat metal lid that was hinged at the side of the container. 'Simple enough. We put the meteorite in, then coat the inside of the lid with di-epoxy glue. This stuff works in a vacuum, anyplace. Seals airtight in about two minutes. You'll have to cut the end off to get at it, but that's no problem.'
'Nothing will be a problem - once we find the meteorite.' He sealed the space-suit and reached for his helmet. 'Let's go'
'How many sick now?' Kurikka asked.
'I stopped counting at sixty. Over half the people aboard. Three more dead.'
He led the way, in silence, to the midpipe elevator. The drive wheels whined as it rose up towards the centre of rotation of the ship. They became lighter and lighter until, when the elevator stopped, they floated weightless out of the door. Don followed behind, moving much slower than the Chief who was long used to null-G and drifted easily with an occasional touch on the guide rods. He had the hold airlock open when Don came up.
'We're entering the hold as close to the point of impact as we can get. We welded a patch on the floorplates of C deck about thirty feet from here. But we never entered the hold. We should be able to follow the path of the meteorite from the inside. But I have no idea how deep it penetrated. We only know that it didn't come out again.'
'Inside the ship. But if it went out through the side, instead of going through the decks again, is there any way that you would know that?'
'No,' Kurikka said, grimly. 'We can only hope that it didn't. Seal up, I'm starting the cycling.'
They snapped their faceplates shut and waited in silence as the door closed and the air was pumped from the lock. When it was gone the green light flashed on and the other door opened automatically. They floated out into the darkness of the immense hold.
It was a nightmare world of light and shadow, and Don was disorientated and lost before they had moved more than a few feet from the airlock. In the airless hold the patches of darkness could be either shadow - or solid - there was no way of telling without touching the spot or flashing a light on it. They had lights built into their helmets, but Don found his difficult to use. He clutched to a steel brace and tried to steady himself. The Chief floated up, his light sweeping a path before him. His voice rattled in Don's earphones.
'It's difficult at first, but you'll get the hang of it.'
'There's no up or down - and when I try to move I get dizzy, disorientated.'
'You're not the only one, sir. It always hits like this first time out. The thing to do is to fix your attention on one thing and try to ignore everything else. Now I'll go ahead, slowly, and you stay behind me. Keep looking square at me, eyes front, and that will keep your light focused on my back. If you want to look at something don't turn your eyes, but your whole head. That way you will have light wherever you look. Ready?'
'Ready as I'll ever be. Push off.'
Kurikka pulled himself up a series of handholds along a beam. The space was tight, with great containers on both sides, looming shapes in the darkness. He reached a crossbeam and angled out along it. There was a solid surface above his head and he trained his light up on to it.
'Look there,' he said, pointing to a torn opening in the metal that was sealed with a shining plate on the other side. 'Here's where it came through. That's the patch we put on the deck.'
They turned their heads and the circles of light from their beams crossed and met on the surface of an aluminium container a few feet away. The black disk of an opening was punched into its surface.
'Is that it?' Don asked;
'Right. But before we tear into the container let's make sure that it's still inside. Stay here, I can work faster alone. I want to examine the skin of this thing.'
The Chief was right, it did not take long. Don flashed his light into the hole, but there was only darkness inside.
I've found the exit hole,' the Chiefs voice said in his earphones. 'I'll take you to it.'
The meteorite had emerged from the container and plunged into a bale nearby, one of many secured by a tight net of plastic strands.
'Clothing,' the Chief said, reading the label. 'This is good luck. The layers inside will have slowed and stopped the thing, maybe even caught it. Use your knife, cut the net and we'll pull the bale out.'