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climbing.
At first he didn't see anyone else. Then he came up to a group of unarmed people
who seemed to be screaming as they ran away. They were probably on his side, but
there wasn't a way he could spare the time to tell them that.
A few decks before the level of his own quarters, he was intercepted by four
gunholders. A quick glance told him they were among the Utie ex-prisoners-now,
according to Deverel, part of Farnsworth's troops. No time to quibble about it-both
needle pellets and energy beams raked his suit's armor. Well, hell! One man was
within reach, so Tregare reached. He swung the man against the other three; it took
two swipes but he decked them. Then he found he wasn't holding the man any
longer-just the man's arm. He used it to club down one Utie who was still trying to get
up, then threw it away. That move was a mistake; the faulty gyro, when he
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went to straighten up too fast, began to process and almost turned him sideways.
All right-easy now! He paused to look. One man wasn't quite dead, but close to it,
so Bran stomped on his head. No point in leaving loose ends. Weapons might be a
good idea; he looked around and picked up one medium energy weapon and one light
one. There was a needier lying handy, but he had only two hands and no place to
tuck anything away. So- upship again.
Somebody must have ducked away and made an intercom call, because three
decks up he ran into an ambush-maybe a dozen armed people blasting at him when
he came up into view at the landing. Peace on it! Spray^g energy bolts with the
heavier gun in his left hand, he ran at the two closest attackers. They were standing
against a bulkhead. The suit's impact made mush of them.
Well, nobody said it was going to be neat and tidy. Three were still alive. They
ran, and he didn't bother to shoot.
Farther upship. He was shot at, and he shot back. He left several dead and let
some flee unscathed. The suit's right knee mechanism was heating up; the gyros for
bending down and straightening chattered and paused at the wrong times. He had
to keep his moves simple now, or the damn suit could collapse on him.
Coming to the galley level he heard a lot of shouting. Whose, he had no idea, and
by now he couldn't afford to care. He thought of something Hawkman had told him
once. When he climbed far enough to look across at floor level, he flipped on the
suit's outside speakers and yelled, then dropped out of sight for a few seconds. And
then raised his heavier gun up and sprayed the level without even looking. When the
noise stopped he raised himself up and scanned the area. There were three corpses
and no one alive. Whether the three kills were his or someone else's, he'd probably
never know.
Not far now, to Control. And to Farnsworth, who'd had Monteffial killed, who had
tried to give this ship back to UET. Farnsworth, that pigass-oh, forget about cussing,
get him. So Bran started up the last climb.
He expected a grenade, but maybe Farnsworth had forgotten to stock up on those.
He expected a flood of armed troops, but maybe good ol' Cleet had run a little short.
He didn't know what the hell he expected. So he just climbed on up.
Farnsworth didn't have much ready for him, special. A few
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troops, and one of the projectors that would have fit onto the power suit. Not much,
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but enough. "Hold it right there," said Farnsworth. "I don't know who you are, in
there, but I'm captain now and I offer you amnesty if you'll surrender. Is it a deal?"
"Tell me a little more, captain," said Tregare. He was inching the suit forward,
trying to look as if he weren't. "I'm not sure I understand all what's happened."
"Well, it's simple enough," Farnsworth said. "There was a traitorous mutiny, and
now that's rectified. Except that you and I have to reach an understanding."
"That's no problem. I understand fine. A deal, then?" He strode toward
Farnsworth. Everything would have worked if the heavy-projector man hadn't
caught on; the blast caught the suit's control pack and jammed the lower limbs. Bran
grabbed for Farnsworth; the thrown missile that smashed into the gunners face and
knocked him unconscious, was Farnsworth's head. Then, the explosion came.
"I'm getting tired," said Bran Tregare, "of waking up in hospital."
"Then try taking better care of yourself." Eda Ghormley's voice still belied her
sour expression. "Captains shouldn't take so many chances. Can you tolerate visitors?
There's one here."
Bran took a quick self-check. Head thudding, ears ringing, stomach vacillating
between hunger and nausea, but-"Visitors. Yes." Because if he was captain, he had
to know more about it, and fast.
The visitor was Erdis Blaine; she looked a little red-eyed puffy but mostly in
control. Bran asked first. "Who's got the watch? What's the drill? Tell me fast."
Then, realizing she had her own problems, "I wish to hell they hadn't got Leon."
She sniffed once and almost managed a smile. "Me, too. Nicest guy I-well,
Gonnelson's standing in for you, Tregare, and just temporarily, Max Druffel and I
are filling in on the other watches. The other Chief rating in line, he was on the
wrong side. Somebody killed him. Probably you."
What a mess. Tregare said, "Tell Gonnelson I confirm his choices. You and
Druffel, which of you is senior?"
"He is; he's a Chief."
"Then I guess he's Second Hat and you're Third. All right?"
Now she did smile. "Anything that works." She paused. "Tregare-did anybody
ever tell you you're a real pisser?"
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He looked at her. "I wouldn't know what that means." "You don't have to; you
just do it." Then she left.
Not feeling up to it, Tregare after one sleep cut loose from medical custody and
called council in Control, since he also wasn't up to moving into captain's quarters.
On hand he had Gonnelson, Druffel, Blaine, and old Mallory representing the Drive
room. To avoid distracting the ratings who were holding down the watch positions,
Tregare's group took seats well away from them. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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