Part 11 (1/2)

”You'll have the chance,” said L'Wrona.

Suddenly the control panel and cabin lights winked off, as did the corridor lights. With a whine of dying n-gravs, the shuttle plunged toward the deck.

”Brakes!” shouted L'Wrona, throwing his arms across his face as they slammed into the deck.

”Negative!” cried D'Trelna, pulling back on the useless control stick.

Metal screaming, sparks flying, the shuttle spun down the corridor, angling toward the left wall. Egg's tendrils snapped back out, touching the controls.

Part of the instrument panel came alive again as the shuttle rose for an instant, then settled jerkily on its landing struts.

”My energy reserves are exhausted,” whispered the slaver machine. Its light tendrils disappeared. With them went the brief burst of power that had saved the shuttle.

”Damper field,” said D'Trelna weakly. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he unbuckled and stood, peering into the utter darkness of the corridor. ”What happened to K'Tran?”

”Alternate course plotted and set,” said A'Tir, looking up from the shuttle's complink.

”Time to lose Fats and friends,” said K'Tran, glancing at the course plot. ”Next main intersection.”

The damper field hit just as they turned. Their shuttle's systems failed for an instant, touched by the field's edge, then came back on as they moved down the side corridor.

”Now that's timing,” grinned K'Tran.

”Think they've had it?” asked A'Tir.

K'Tran shrugged, eyes on the corridor. ”Two very capable officers, D'Trelna and L'Wrona. And backed by ten of their best commandos. Don't count them out, Number One. But with luck, they and the R'Actolians will occupy each other till it's too late.”

”Anyone hurt?” asked L'Wrona. He stood beside D'Trelna in the shuttle's pa.s.senger section.

”No,” said S'Til. The commandos were out of their seats, taking the battlelamps S'Til was distributing from the aft storage area. The dim glow of six battery-powered lights provided a faint light. ”Damper field?” she asked, handing each of the two senior officers a lamp.

”Probably,” said D'Trelna, clipping the lamp to his belt.

Drawing her Mil A, S'Til set the beam low, pointed the muzzle at the roof and pulled the trigger. There was a faint click. ”Damper field,” she nodded. ”Defense perimeter?” she asked L'Wrona.

The captain nodded. ”Knives against whatever's out there. If we have to, we'll take that bridge on foot, bare-handed.”

And club whatever to death with our boots, thought D'Trelna. ”Surely not bare-handed,” he said.

The arms locker was set into the bulkhead to the right of the airlock. Going to it, D'Trelna entered the combination on its keypad. Nothing happened. ”Get that open,” he ordered S'Til, jerking a thumb at the locker.

It only took her a moment, deftly jiggling her blade between locker panel and lock. The door gave with a snap. S'Til slid the door back, then stepped back with a delighted cry. Behind her, a commando whistled appreciatively as lamp beams washed across the arms racks.

”Your commodore provides,” said D'Trelna, sweeping his own light over the rows of stacked M16's and Uzis. ”You do know how to use them?” he asked S'Til.

”We didn't waste our time on Terra,” she said, pa.s.sing out the weapons. ”Plenty of ammunition,” she added, nodding at the crates stacked beneath the racks.

”Indeed,” said D'Trelna. Glancing at the boxes, he fleetingly wondered what 5.56MM NATO meant.

”You sly swamp d'astig, D'Trelna,” said L'Wrona, handing the commodore an Uzi. ”How'd you know?”

”I didn't,” said D'Trelna. ”Contingency planning.”

”Keep your M11A's,” ordered S'Til. Chambering a round, she clicked off her M16's safety. ”And follow me,” she said, pressing the airlock override. As the double doors hissed open, S'Til leaped out into the darkness of the mindslaver.

Egg had landed them at the intersection of four main corridors, a s.p.a.ce half the size of a sports field. The area looked even wider than it was, there in the light from the battle torches.

Walking in a slow circle around the shuttle, D'Trelna looked down each of the great pa.s.sageways, straining to see beyond the cone of yellow light. L'Wrona walked silently beside him, machine pistol at the ready.

”Do you know the tale of the four corners of h.e.l.l, H'Nar?” asked the commodore as they walked around the front of the shuttle.

D'Trelna was surprised to see the captain smile. ”One of my father's favorites. The merchant prince A'Lan rescues some tedious woman ...”

”T'Sar . . .”

”Rescues T'Sar from the demon P'Kul, in the very heart of h.e.l.l. Pursued, A'Lan and T'Sar lose their way and come to the four corners of h.e.l.l. P'Kul and his pack are at their heels. Before them, three dark, uncertain roads. Two, they know, lead back to h.e.l.l. The third, to life, but only for the living.”

”And A'Lan chooses the one least traveled on,” said D'Trelna, ”and of course they emerge into the land of life. A parable on the road-least-traveled.”

The captain looked at the two corridors to his right and left. ”Not many footprints in the battlesteel, J'Quel.”

”We'll take the road least traveled, H'Nar,” said D'Trelna as they rejoined S'Til beside the airlock. ”We will advance on foot to the bridge.”

”And where is the bridge?” asked L'Wrona.

D'Trelna waved vaguely toward the bridge corridor. ”Up there, somewhere. Egg said it wasn't far. I want Harrison alive and that commwand in my hand when we leave.”

”As the commodore orders,” said L'Wrona. He turned to S'Til, who stood frowning, her head c.o.c.ked. ”We'll proceed on foot from here, Lieutenant. Have-”

She stopped him with upraised hand. ”Listen,” she whispered.

They listened, not hearing it at first. ”Feet,” said L'Wrona after a moment. ”There,” he nodded at the corridor they were about to use.

”Many feet,” said D'Trelna, c.o.c.king his head. ”Moving quickly, but not in time.”

”You a.s.sume they're feet,” said L'Wrona.

9.

”There's no reason I should trust you,” said John.

”My timely warning,” said the blonde, hand to heart, ”saved this galaxy from the AIs, when they'd infiltrated Terra Two.”

”After you and your green slime horde wiped out millions of people, trying to take the galaxy for yourselves!” John felt his face flush.

”Not coming for fata, certainly,” said D'Trelna, un-slinging his Uzi.