Now to start the xaxtdamned thing. He scanned the panels for a power regulator; he knew there had to be one of those somewhere.... Shaking his head, he gave up. It would simply have to be in the right position. Once again, he concentrated on the Hypospeed cluster: the gravs. First things first. His eyes stopped for a moment at a large green slide mechanism, but he had no idea what that was for, and decided to leave it right where it was.
Unfortunately, things weren't quite that easy. He knew that GA 87s flew below LightSpeed on spin-gravs, but what type were they? The Leaguers installed both interchangeably, but each had a different starting sequence. "ZN-type," spin-gravs required hitting the start circuit for a few clicks before keying energy boost. Otherwise, the plasma field could be drowned and the whole starting sequence would have to be repeated—after waiting for the revolutions to reach zero.
On the other hand, "YZ" types required the starter and energy boost to be applied simultaneously. And if boost were keyed more than a few moments before—or after—start, short-circuiting could actually damage the interrupter mechanism. Unhappily, no one had yet invented a workable coupler.
Taking a deep breath, he knew he'd have to guess. Somewhere on board the ship was a set of manuals he needed. But he had no time to search for it anymore. Wiping steam condensed on the Hyperscreens, he glanced outside where more sentries were splashing along the fence, accompanied by a small skimmer that mounted a large roll of mesh and numerous tool boxes. So far, they hadn't noticed the bodies near the hatch—or considered them important enough to interrupt their fence mending.
Then he looked aft toward the port spin-grav at the end of its stubby "wing" pylon. Its teardrop housing had two rows of cooling doors just below the interrupter assembly. He'd seen both ZN and YZ types with them, but the latter were much more likely to need extra cooling because of the energy required by simultaneous use of both systems.
"Wilf!" Aram's haggard voice came over the battlesuit circuits. "I'm down to my last two grenades," he gasped. "How're you comin' with the ship?"
"I'm ready to try a start sequence," Brim replied. "You all right?"
"A lot better now the knapsack's empty," he said, "but this damn battlesuit feels like it's made of lead and the wind's just plain bad."
"Can you last awhile more?"
"A little while. But hurry,"
"Right, then. Drop those eggs as far away from us as you can, then keep your altitude till I call. If I can't make this bucket of bolts fly, make for the village on your own. No sense in all of us being caught."
"Got you," Aram answered, but Brim hardly heard; he was back with the controls. There was no time to lose!
First, he started the auxiliary power unit and watched the instruments begin to register. Next, he toggled the energy-change switch and gated the power impeller. Two green indicators marked vladam-A and vladam-E showed he'd successfully set the plasma. He nodded. Now for the gravs themselves.
Outside, he could hear shouting, now. He switched on the clearview and watched the Hyperscreens clear. A lot of gray-clad soldiers were running toward the hole in the fence. Nearly all of them glanced curiously toward the 219, but continued doggedly on their way.
Brim muttered silent thanks for the Leaguers' propensity to follow orders absolutely, then grimly switched the starter to tovo, or "port." Scanning the rest of the instruments for a moment—none seemed out of tolerance—he cracked the thrust damper, then hit zomort and roth-ta (energy boost) at the same time. Instantly, the spin-grav whined, its interruptor strobing brightly. "One... two... three..." he counted as the strobing increased linearly. At "ten," he mashed the enable button—the spin-grav fired, caught for a moment, but sputtered and died as he delicately worked the thrust damper.
"Gorksroar!" Now, he had to start all over again.
"What happened?" Onrad demanded from the passenger compartment as lightning crackled somewhere downfield— accompanied by an earsplitting crack of thunder.
"Don't know," Brim admitted furiously. "Probably too little on the thrust damper." Keeping himself just under control, he reset everything, retoggled the energy-change switch, and once more gated the power impeller. The indicators marked vladam-a and vladam-e returned to green, and he cracked the thrust damper a second time.
With sweat running along his ribs, this time, he pushed the damper a hair farther. Too much, and he'd really bollix things up. The shouting was getting much louder outside, and a number of black-uniformed Controllers had garnered in a circle around the ship. Far down the field, he could see the limousine skimmer pull onto the perimeter road in clouds of spray! He squeezed his eyes shut while he contemplated shooting Onrad!
Heart in his mouth, he hit zomort and roth-ta. Obediently, the spin-grav whined, its interrupter strobing. "One... two... three..." he counted. At "ten," he mashed the enable button again. Once more the spin-grav fired, caught almost instantly, but again started to sputter and die, shaking the whole spaceframe no matter how he worked the thrust damper.
Then it came to him. The green slide. That was the thraggling power regulator! With a shaking hand, he nudged it toward the middle of its track and... the failing grav deepened in timbre and rapidly smoothed out into steady thunder.
"Aram!" he shouted as he started the second spin-grav.
No response....
"Aram! Can you hear me?"
"Yeah, Wilf. She started?"
"Just now. Get your feathery ass down here right away."
Brim never had a chance to hear his answer, for at the moment, a tremendous hubbub began outside the cabin, He glanced to his left just hi time to see at least twenty Controllers rush the 219's hatch through ankle-deep water, side arms at the ready. The jackbooted Leaguers immediately fell back under a withering barrage of fire from Onrad and Beyazh, who had finally shown themselves at the door.
Moments later, the few survivors were in full retreat, splashing pell-mell for whatever shelter they could find while they shouted wildly at another squad of gray-clad soldiers who were clearly still on the way to deal with trouble that might come through the damaged fence. And they were armed with blast pikes, enough of them to seriously damage the 219!
The still-disciplined soldiers immediately unslung their pikes, and began advancing in a unit behind an extremely capable-looking noncom with a look on his face that nearly froze Brim's blood.
" Com'on, Aram!" Brim yelled into the voice circuit. "Time's a'wastin'!"
As he spoke, a tremendous explosion tore the very center out of the advancing Leaguer formation, breaking the soldiers' discipline and sending the few survivors off in every direction.
Heartbeats later, a form dropped to the ground and leaped through the hatch. "All right," Aram yelled breathlessly, "let's get the xaxt out of here!"
Working the steering engine with his feet, Brim pushed the thrust dampers forward and the little ship began to move toward the entry port of the Becton tube. As Onrad slammed the hatch, everything outside seemed to be erupting in little waterspouts speckled with dirt clods and debris as the Leaguers called up heavier disrupters—at the same moment the limousine skimmer pulled directly into Brim's path.
Two officers jumped out, completely ignoring the storm and arrogantly began to fire their side arms at the Hyperscreens. Brim didn't mind running them over, but he didn't want to hit anything quite as solid as their limousine, so he bumped the steering engine to port.
Too much!
"Oh, GORKSROAR!" he bellowed as the 219 careened all the way around in a circle and headed for the limousine again—this time one of the brass hats splashed off in a most undignified manner.