He pushed her back into the corridor, not encountering too much resistance, and secured the hatch. Then the entry hatch to the ship, and forward to the control deck, with fingers crossed that the nuñe ptith used the same system as the dar ptith did. Zifthkakik activator here, and a right-handed sidestick for the pilot, not too different from the ones in the Hornets except lacking all the pushbuttons for weapons functions. Activator engaged, and the left-handed meter above the nav instruments began swinging toward the usable zone.
The hatch banged. He laid the weapon within easy reach and continued the startup. If it was open when he broke loose, too bad for whoever was in the entry… he had a momentary flash of white limbs and robe disarranged and drifting, and hesitated.
Another bang from the hatch, this time sounding like it had when he’d secured it. Then soft pounding in the gangway, and Ander Korwits came onto the control deck, face flushed with exertion, robe streamed back over her hips. She felt his stare, twitched the robe so that she was covered, and leaned against the hatch coaming, breathing heavily.
“What is this?” he asked sharply. “Get back to your quarters and say nothing.”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good. There’s no way I can stop you, and if you get away like this after I sponsored you they’ll put me out of the ship.”
“And you don’t think you could find another ship, or live Down?”
“That wouldn’t be a choice. I’d have to walk there, dressed like this, or less.”
He stared a moment. The energy indicator was in the safe zone. “Are Alper Gor and Luter Ander in the same danger?”
“Alper is, of course. Luter didn’t cooperate after the meeting.”
Shit! “Why didn’t you raise the alarm? Two or three burly Grallt could have managed.”
“I’m not so sure. You handled three of them, as I understand it. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Once you left me and made it to the outer corridor my breathing space would have been inevitable.”
He considered the prospect. Down two decks, fifty meters to the women’s quarters, there to fetch a sleeping woman who didn’t know what was going on… “Shit! How long would it take you to fetch Alper Gor here?”
“Too long.” She made a throwing-away gesture. “I never liked her much anyway.”
He knew that sort of black humor. “Try anyway. You at least can be expected to be walking the corridors. I will stay here as long as possible.” She looked at him wildly. “Go, go! We may not have enough time. We certainly won’t if you waste it.” Another wild look, then a nod, and she was gone in a flash of robe and legs.
Peters snatched up the weapon and followed. She vanished through the hatch, robe flapping, and he took up a position just inside, alert for any passers-by. Minutes stretched, and he thought irritably, If you think this is complicated, wait ‘til we get back t’ Llapaaloapalla. Talk about complications! He thought about closing the hatch and hoping nobody chancing by would notice that the docking catches were released. No, that wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t be able to watch, or tell when the girls were coming.
More time went by. It seemed like hours… he was really disappointed in the ferassi. Surely they had some kind of deck patrol or watch in this area. On the other hand, it seemed that they kept to themselves and never had visitors. If so, they might scarcely be capable of imagining such a sequence of events… Ah. Here came the deck watch, a ferassi with a single ring around his bicep. He was strolling along idly, a nightstick swinging from a belt at his waist, not really noticing anything. Another neat ethical problem.
Peters waited until the man was almost at the hatch and had begun to express puzzlement at its being open before making his move. He jumped out, threatened the crewman with the weapon, and moved in fast. The man—kid, really—didn’t have nearly enough time to react before Peters had him in a choke hold. Whack with the butt-end of the weapon; it didn’t put the ferassi out, but it stunned and confused him, and Peters used the moment to drag him through the hatch and into the smallcraft. The belt made a satisfactory immobilizer, and a swift review of the cabinets by the hatch found one that seemed empty and had an outside lock. Now if nobody had come along in the interim—
The two women were coming up the corridor. He’d known they were quick on the uptake; it now appeared that they also had their priorities straight. They also evidently hadn’t encountered anyone in the corridors. Both had kathir suits slung over their shoulders, but Ander Korwits was still in her robe, Alper Gor was as naked as he’d left her, and between the two of them nobody, or at least no male, could have failed to take notice that something out of the ordinary was going on.
Alper scowled as he handed them through. Well, that was to be expected, he supposed. He yanked open the cabinet and dragged the unresisting officer to the hatch, shoved him out, and dogged it. “Get forward,” he hissed. “That fellow will be able to free himself in moments.”
“Why didn’t you just kill him?” Ander Korwits wanted to know.
“It didn’t seem necessary or appropriate.” He pounded forward, took the control seat, and called out, “Take hold. I don’t know if the compensator is properly set or not, and I don’t want to take the time.” Then he yanked the sidestick up and sideways.
The smallship broke loose with loud scrunches and squeals of tortured metal, but break loose it did, and Peters rotated the heading until the planet was in view and pressed the control forward. Time to make distance and velocity before taking care of other matters.
Ander took the seat to his left, the navigator’s position, with a swish of white cloth. The robe had become disarranged again, offering a good view of regions concealed in most normal circumstances. “What do you intend?” she asked as Alper Gor took the other adjacent chair, still elegantly clad in nothing whatever.
“First, place some distance between us and the ship, and take on velocity. Details will follow from how much of that I am able to achieve. My ultimate goal is Llapaaloapalla.”
“Will you be able to reach it?” Ander had made no move to rearrange her clothing.
This’d make a good book cover, Peters thought sardonically. Heroic spaceman in Spandex, flanked by one good-lookin’ woman naked as a jaybird and another good as. Too bad you’d have t’ put a cardboard flap over it. “Get dressed, both of you,” he said irritably. “I saw you brought your airsuits. That was smart. We’re likely to need them.”
Ander Korwits stood, flicked her robe into position, and stepped back with a flash of smile, but Alper Gor kept her seat. “I don’t think I will,” she said. “I haven’t gone around bare since I moved into the adults’ quarters. It feels good, and the events of the next few tle should be interesting. I want to watch.”
“Ssth. If anything happens in the next few tle we are probably lost,” Peters told her irritably. “And in any case I don’t need the distraction.”
“You find me distracting?” she asked, with arched eyebrows and a little wiggle.
“Ssth.” Peters grinned. “Go get dressed, Alper. If you want to display your elegant self, I can find a larger audience if we make it.”
She grinned back. “But I want to be present for every thrilling moment of this.”
“Whereas I am strongly hoping that no thrilling moments occur. Get your suit on. Your carcass will not be nearly so attractive if it is exposed to vacuum.”