“Commander Jameson’s right,” Ruiz said. “Chia has a hand-laser, too. I saw it. And the devil knows what other weapons they smuggled in here.”
People had started to drift across to the gateway to see what Klein and his friends were doing there. There was quite respectable crowd now, keeping a wary distance, watching silently. Then there was the sound of a scuffle, and some angry shouting. The crowd started to disperse, then changed its mind and came uncertainly together again.
“Something’s going on,” Jameson said to Maggie. “I’d better…”
He stopped and strained to see in the dim light. Somebody was running toward him, bounding in huge swoops in the one third gravity down the shelved bowl. As the figure drew closer, he saw that it was Beth Oliver, her blond hair disheveled and flying.
“Tod!” she panted, drawing near. “They’re taking people with them! By force! They’ve got Kiernan, and Kay Thorwald—they say she can handle the ship with Yeh! And Sue Jarowski!”
“I’d better see what I can do,” Jameson said. He turned and started to go. Maggie hung on to his arm, trying to drag him back.
“Tod,” she said. “Don’t go.”
He disentangled her gently. “With Boyle out of it, and if Kay’s being held, then I’m in charge. I’d better see—”
“You can’t do anything,” she cried, oddly agitated for someone as usually self-assured as Maggie was. “You said so yourself. You’ll only get hurt.”
“I’ll be all right,” he said, turning again.
“You don’t know what Klein and that—that Chia are capable of!”
“I’m afraid I do,” he said, nodding toward where Boyle lay sprawled. Janet had the bleeding under control, and she had a rolled-up blanket under Boyle’s head. Dmitri and Kiernan’s opposite number, Wang, had taken over from Maybury and had set up a tripod of garden tools to hold the drip bag. The leg hung by shreds, and Janet was removing pieces of bone with a pair of tweezers.
“I’ll go with you,” Mike Berry said, falling in beside him.
“All right, Mike, but keep out of trouble. Where’s Ruiz? Maybe he can try to talk to Klein again.”
“He went over there a few minutes ago,” Mike said. “Mayb’s with him. You aren’t going to get anywhere with that bastard, Tod. You know that type. If he blew up the world, he’d say he did it to keep America free.”
Jameson nodded grimly. He ascended the tiers of synthetic stone, past the metal trees and the random tumbled blocks the Cygnans had put there for variety. To his left a miniature waterfall was sluicing down the steps toward the murky pool at the bottom. Mike hopped along beside him, trying to keep up, bouncing too high in the low gravity and then having to take another giant step when his foot touched bottom.
As Jameson drew close, he could see people milling around uncertainly, keeping well beyond an invisible line. On the other side of the line were the people in Klein’s party. Most of Yao’s bomb crew were there—a score of powerfully built young men and bandy-legged girls who had armed themselves with a miscellany of slats, garden shears and trowels, and what must have been branches of the iron trees, clandestinely filed to the snapping-off point during weeks of captivity. Only one of Tu Jue-chen’s Struggle Group fighters was there—the one who’d helped Gifford. The rest must have been dismissed as unreliable, despite their attempt to switch sides. Jameson’s own partner, Li, was in the party, apparently voluntarily, as was Maggie’s opposite number from the computer section, Jen Mei-mei. They were talking to three Chinese fusion techs.
Kay, Kiernan, and Sue were backed up against the inward-leaning wall of the zoo enclosure, guarded by Gifford and Fiaccone. Gifford was holding Kiernan, pinioning the smaller man’s arms behind his back. Kiernan looked dazed, as if he’d been hit on the head. Mike’s young assistant, Quentin, under no apparent restraint, was talking volubly at Sue, who averted her head, refusing to look at him.
Chia and Yao were on their knees, doing something to the lock mechanism of the massive barred door. It was an armor-plated disk, big as a wagon wheel, half buried in a slot in the metallic sill. There was a neat array of tiny electronic instruments and miniature tools spread out on a quilted jacket whose cotton stuffing oozed from a dozen slashes. Jameson made out the flickering blue glow of a CRT display no larger than a thumbnail, and then, from beneath Chia’s hand on the lock, a flash of laser light. Klein was standing over them, negligently facing the crowd, the wicked little gun in his hand.
“Quent!” Mike bellowed as they approached. “What the hell are you doing there?”
The boy broke off his recitation to Sue and turned to face Mike and Jameson. “Jeez, Mike, I mean what was I supposed to do? Klein, he told me I hadda obey orders.”
Klein’s sleek head quested in Mike’s direction, then paused to examine Jameson. “Thanks for bringing him over, Commander,” he said. “It saves me from having to send someone to get him.”
“Listen, Klein,” Jameson began, fighting down anger.
“We’re going to need him to activate the boron reaction. Quentin says he can’t do it by himself.”
“Berry’s not going. And neither are those other people.”
Klein lifted the gun and pointed it at Mike. “He’s going. Berry, get over there with the others. That’s an order.”
“The hell I’m going!” Mike said.
Klein said, “If you don’t get over there in about three seconds, you’ll take the consequences.”
“Yeah? When you get back to Earth, tell them to come on out here and arrest me.”
“You’re a traitorous son of a bitch,” Klein said tightly, “and if I can’t use you, I’m going to—”
Jameson stepped quickly between Mike and the gun.
“This has gone far enough,” he said, with as much force as he could muster. “Klein, didn’t you understand a word Dr. Ruiz said? If you interfere with the Cygnans—if you succeed in interfering with them—you’re going to endanger the whole human species.”
Klein’s voice cracked, showing the strain he must have been under. “I’ve had it with you, Jameson! You and Ruiz keeping essential data from me, and then interfering—Step away from that man before I give you the whole clip right in your—”
Mike stepped from behind Jameson. “Hold it,” he said. “Don’t get yeasty. I’m going.” He gave Jameson a ghastly grin. “Say good-bye to our lovely hosts for me, and try to drop a line now and then.” He moved over to the group huddled against the wall. Quentin immediately began haranguing him, gesturing with both hands.
There was the screech of protesting ratchets, and the huge circular lock rolled in its slot, mounting an incline. “Wan pi te,” Chia said, and gathered up her tools. Yao, with the help of a couple of muscular missile men, slid the great barred door open.
“Hurry,” Yao called over his shoulder. He and Chia were pushing their people through the gate into the vast empty exhibition hall outside.
Klein looked thoughtful. “Just a minute,” he said. “We’d better have an astronomer.”
Chapter 25
“You can go straight to hell,” Ruiz said, “if you can find the place. I don’t intend to give you the slightest help.”
He stood facing Klein, his back stiff and straight and his stubbled chin thrust out, looking like an immensely dignified scarecrow. He was bad news now, and people were beginning to edge away from his vicinity.
Some of Klein’s muscle, four or five husky missile men, had drifted over to fan out on either side of him, hefting their makeshift weapons. The girl, Smitty, was among them. Jameson had taken her for one of the men at first, with her broad shoulders and big frame, but now he could see her breasts like flat dinner plates under the man’s undershirt she wore, solid as the meat of arm and shoulder. There was no question of Klein’s leaving without her.