“Yes.”
Judy groaned. “Well, Stone first, then Stubbins. Eric’s a wuss. We have surprise on our side. Let’s go.”
“Judy—if we take them out—then what? The Mest’—”
“One problem at a time. Ready?”
Marianne nodded, lying. She would never be ready for this. A sense of unreality fogged her mind: I’m a geneticist, not Delta Force. Then she crowded close behind Judy to go in.
The rest of the mice wouldn’t leave their cages. Probably they were scared. Colin was. The smell of the dead bad man was making his stomach all funny, so he left the lab and walked carefully through the storage place. The two mice stirred in his pocket but they couldn’t get out.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Colin whispered to them. “We’ll find Grandma.”
The mice made mouse noises, but that didn’t help.
He opened the door to the main cabin. Grandma was by the door to the bridge, her back to him, but before Colin could say anything, she rushed through and the bridge door closed behind her.
The door was left open only the smallest bit, but Stone saw it. “Shut the door,” he said to Judy. Marianne heard them not through the door but through the open channel of the wall screen.
Judy said, “God, that hurt. My ass—hemorrhoids—”
“I said—Arrhhhh!”
Marianne flung open the door. Judy had succeeded in whacking Stone in the knees, and he’d fallen back against the bulkhead. Marianne fired. The dart hit him in the neck. His face twisted into an expression she’d never seen on a human face. He roared, yanked out the dart, and threw himself toward her. Judy whacked him on the back of the head with the wrench and he went down.
But now Stubbins was on Marianne, wrenching the dart gun from her hand. He shouted something she couldn’t hear, something was wrong with her hearing, all sound blurred into a single noisy buzz. Jonah had the gun in one hand and his other came up and backhanded her across the face.
Words emerged in her head from the general buzz: If that had been his fist, I’d be gone. But it hadn’t been his fist and although the pain was incredible, But not as bad as childbirth—what a time to think of labor now—she rolled away. Judy tried to hit Stubbins with the wrench but he batted her away. She fell to the floor and threw it at him. It hit him in the face and his bellow filled the bridge like a gale.
He picked up the wrench and advanced on Judy.
Marianne had not the slightest doubt that he would beat her to death. Stubbins had dropped the tranq gun. Marianne crawled over to it and began reloading. But there was no time, no time—
Wilshire, who’d sat frozen in his chair, came to life now that the odds were so heavily in Stubbins’s favor. He jumped up and pinned Judy to hold her against the bulkhead just to the left of the door, so that Stubbins could better attack her.
“Stop!” a little voice cried. Colin stood in the doorway. “Don’t hurt Aunt Judy!”
Stubbins turned his head briefly, saw Colin, and turned back to Judy. He raised the wrench high above his head.
Something hit him in the face, then another something.
Mice. Colin had thrown two mice at Stubbins. Where had Colin gotten… oh God….
The soft squeaking projectiles distracted Stubbins just long enough for Marianne to stagger up and fire. The dart lodged itself in Stubbins’s neck. He groped to pull it out.
If Wilshire had still been holding Judy, Stubbins’s momentary pause wouldn’t have made any difference. But Wilshire shrieked, “Those mice are infected!” and let go of Judy. The mice, dazed, ran around on the floor. Wilshire pushed past Colin and ran off the bridge, slamming the door behind him. Judy rolled away from Stubbins.
Marianne loaded again and fired.
Stubbins pulled out the second dart and started toward Marianne. Judy leaped onto his back. She didn’t have the wrench, but she reached around his head and gouged at his eyes. He roared and reached behind him to throw her off. She didn’t let go, wildly jabbing at his eyes, and they spun in a crazy tarantella around the bridge. While they struggled, Marianne reloaded and fired her last dart. It hit Stubbins in the shoulder, easily penetrating his shirt. Judy shifted from her unsuccessful attempt to reach his eyes and instead grabbed his arms, trying to keep him from pulling out the dart. Marianne rushed over and hit Stubbins with the empty tranq pistol.
He struck out with his fist, connecting with Marianne’s left shoulder. She gasped with pain but kept hold of the pistol in her right hand, striking him with it until with a huge final roar he grabbed her arm, flung her across the room, and threw Judy off his back. He pulled out the dart.
Colin was trying to catch his mice. Before Marianne could even yell, “No, Colin—don’t touch them!” Stubbins had the boy in his arms.
There was sudden quiet on the bridge.
“Sit in that corner,” Stubbins said, “both of you, or I’ll kill him.”
Marianne cried to Judy, “Do it!”
Judy crept to the corner. Marianne followed her. Colin whimpered but didn’t cry. Marianne focused on Stubbins. His last words had slurred a little. How much of the ketamine had gotten into his bloodstream?
Individual response to tranquilizing agents may vary widely.
“You… you…,” Stubbins said.
Keep him talking. “Jonah, don’t hurt Colin. We’ll do whatever you say, go wherever you want, are you taking the Venture to World, do you know how long the voyage—” She had no idea what she was babbling, she just wanted him to respond, to do anything except hurt Colin—
“Let me go,” Colin said clearly.
Stubbins’s eyes rolled in his head. His big body slumped. Just before he fell over, Colin slipped from his arms and landed upright on the deck, as neatly as if climbing out of bed in the home he didn’t have.
With Stubbins and Stone both down, pain rushed back into Marianne. For a moment blackness took her, but she fought it off. There was no time now for shock.
“Colin, are… you… okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you hurt, Grandma?”
“No,” she lied. “Judy?”
“I think my arm’s broken.”
“I’ll get first aid and—”
“No!” Judy said. “Lock the bridge door.”
“I’ll do it!” Colin said. “I know how!”
Yes, of course—Wilshire was still somewhere in the ship. Marianne did a quick body check on herself. Bruised and hurting but nothing seemed broken. She said, “I have to go out there, Judy. We need rope to tie them up. I don’t know how long Stubbins will be out.”
“Don’t tie up Stone,” Judy said grimly. “He’s dead.”
That made two men they’d murdered. Marianne pushed away the thought and turned to Colin. “You sit up on that big chair, you hear me? Don’t touch anything, including the mice!” The two mice still ran frantically around the bridge, which lacked crevices to hide in. One settled for cowering under what had been Wilshire’s chair. Marianne, Judy, and Colin had all been vaccinated, the supposed “Lyme disease” vaccine—but what if the mice carried something else besides Korean hemorrhagic fever? Did Wilshire know; was that why he was so afraid?
Everything on Marianne hurt. But she picked up the wrench and cautiously opened the door. Both mice ran out. Wilshire was not in the main cabin. Marianne tore open random lockers: no first-aid kit or rope but she did find duct tape.
When she returned, locking the door behind her, Judy had dragged herself into the chair she’d occupied before—the communications chair?—her arm hanging limply by her side, her face twisted with pain. “Can you tie up Stubbins?”