'Check out the screens,' I said. They showed a view of the main ship. The Goth ship hovered by the main ship's side, like a wasp feeding on fruit.

  Le Seaux said, 'What else did Octavia say to you last night?'

  'Wait!' I said. 'Look.'

  On the screen the bunch of grapes was splitting. The Romans were isolating the Goths and sending the other sections away from the fighting, just as I'd thought.

  'This shuttle's not going to be on the inside for much longer,' I said.

  'Then what?' said Chen.

  'Then we can get out of here,' I said.

  'How?' said Chen.

  'One step at a time,' I said. 'We just have to find the controls to this thing. Then we can work on flying it.'

  'No,' said Le Seaux shaking her head. 'This has all been a mistake. We have to go back as soon as we can. The mission is not complete. We haven't heard the response from our friends. We're just angering them.'

  'You're joking,' I said. 'They were speaking loud and clear when they said they wanted to kill us.'

  'Wanted you to kill us,' corrected Chen.

  'Same thing,' I said.

  'We have to go back,' said Le Seaux. 'For better or for worse.'

  Suddenly, the port entrance began to close. A section of the hull rolled slowly and heavily down toward the deck.

  I turned to face Le Seaux.

  'Too late,' I said. 'They're now splitting this shuttle off too.'

  'I'm going back,' said Le Seaux.

  'They'll just kill you if you do.'

  'I'm willing to take responsibilities for my ancestor's actions, if that's what it takes to demonstrate our tolerance and keep the relationship alive.'

  'Think about it,' I said. 'What good will it do?'

  'In the interests of the Accord, I must show them I will pay for my ancestor's shame--as should we all. You, Chen, me. We're all guilty.'

  'No, we're not,' I said. 'We don't have any shame. We didn't do anything. You weren't there when your ancestor hit that woman. Chen, you weren't there when your ancestor swung his axe. Shame is just one of the things the Accord tells us so that they can keep us in line and make us do what they want. For all we know our ancestors weren't the only ones oppressing the world. There might have been others and worse.'

  'What has happened to you, Burns?' Le Seaux said. 'Listen to the way you're talking. You've gone mad. A couple of hours with Octavia and you're willing to throw out centuries of experience and become a traitor.'

  I shook my head. 'No,' I said. 'It's not that.'

  'You think that all of a sudden, you actually know more than the Commission?'

  I looked across at the port entrance. It was halfway closed.

  'Not more,' I said, turning back to Le Seaux. 'It's that I'm beginning to see them for what they are, what the Accord is. Yes, it might have something to do with Octavia. She told me some things about them that...I don't know. But I just know it won't do anyone any good to go back and let them kill or imprison us.'

  Le Seaux said, 'I can't be part of this.'

  She turned and walked towards the exit. I followed. I reached out and touched her shoulder. Touching an officer. Another Navy Spirit code violation.

  Le Seaux looked in surprise at my hand. I withdrew it. Then she turned to face me.

  'Don't go, Katherine,' I said. 'It's not worth it.'

  She shook her head. 'I feel sorry for you, Burns.'

  'If you knew what I knew, you'd feel sorry for everyone in the Accord.'

  'You have lost your faith,' she said. 'If you don't have the Accord, what have you got?'

  'I've got plenty. I've got the truth--at least a glimmer of it. The strange thing is that it's taken this idiotic situation with Octavia and these aliens to reveal it to me.'

  She shook her head. 'I don't hate you, Burns.'

  Then she looked at the exit. It was almost shut.

  She turned away from me, dropped to her knees and ducked beneath it. Her cap was knocked off as she went. We saw her legs and her boots on the other side.

  Then we heard heavy footsteps, terrible snarling and growling. Le Seaux's face appeared briefly beneath the descending edge of the panel.

  'I'm not what you think I am,' she shouted.

  Then she stood up. The snarls and growls grew louder. She took several steps backward. A weapon blasted. Le Seaux's feet were knocked up and off the deck.

  I dropped to my knees and slipped my fingers under the panel. It wouldn't stop. Then, I stood up and looked for controls, first on the left side of the port, then on the right. But there was nothing but the slimy, black interior of the hull.

  'Is she alive?' asked Chen.

  'I don't know.'

  'You saw what happened?' he yelled. 'You saw, right?'

  'Yeah,' I said. 'I saw.'

  'Why don't you do something?'

  'I'm trying,' I said, searching the black metal for a way to reopen the exit.

  'She could be lying there in agony.'

  'I'm looking!' I shouted.

  'And if she's alive, she'll be a hostage.'

  I ignored him and kept searching either side of the exit port, but before I could find a control or a button or a panel, I heard a great groan of metal, and felt the shuttle lurch sideways, detaching itself from the mothership.

  Part 3: The Mission (2)

  'EQUALITY OF OUTCOME is more important than equality of opportunity.'

  Accord Of Nations Constitution

  33

  'NOW WHAT?' SAID Chen.

  'I'm thinking,' I said.

  'Oh great,' Chen said. 'Ten minutes ago you were going to fly this thing. Now you're thinking. What about Le Seaux?'

  'Just give me a minute,' I said.

  Chen shook his head over and over. 'I should have said no to this whole thing, like Okwanko.'

  'They didn't tell you?'

  'Tell me what?'

  'Listen,' I said. 'It's possible this shuttle is being flown remotely from the mothership, but like I said, it must also have controls somewhere, a bridge, a helm. Something.'

  'Where?'

  'I don't know, but we've got to find it first.'

  'Then what?'

  'I don't know.'

  'You don't know? What about Le Seaux?'

  'Just shut up and help me look.'

  The large screens at the bow end of the ship displayed the great bulk of the mothership coming into view as we drifted away from it. Beneath the screens, lay the entranceway leading to the same passageway we'd entered the day before.

  'Let's try down there,' I said.

  Once we were back between the passageway's canyon-like walls, I said, 'Can you see anything that looks remotely like controls?'

  'I'm no pilot,' said Chen.

  'You don't need to be. It could be a button, a lever, a panel, anything that might open up a bridge or a cockpit. You know what a plane's cockpit looks like, right?'

  'I do a certain amount of traveling, yes,' he conceded in the same voice he used whenever he talked about his businesses.

  'Must be in the bow,' I said. 'Wouldn't make sense for it to be at the stern.'

  'Unless it's outside,' said Chen. 'It might be on a turret outside.'

  'Could be,' I said. 'These aliens are capable of anything.'

  We stood in silence for a moment, as if waiting for Le Seaux to correct me for using the word 'aliens.'

  'Let's split up,' I said.

  Chen checked to the port, me to starboard. We move along, prodding and pressing the grey bulkheads, but no panel clicked open and no secret doorway swung wide.

  And then, to make everything even more difficult, zero gravity returned.

  'I forgot about this part,' said Chen.

  'It won't matter,' I said. 'Might even help us.'

  'How?'

  'Look up there.'

  Chen looked up to the top of the canyon that divided the two bulkheads. From the floor to the top must have been a hundred yards. And three quarters of the way up, there was a small rectangle in the forward bulkhead, about the size of an elevator's double doors.

  'Could be a doorway,' I said. 'Let's check it out.'

  'Doorway or hatch?' said Chen. 'Which is it?'

  'Hatches go between decks,' I said. 'They don't go through bulkheads.'

  We swam upward, bouncing from one side to the other until we were thirty yards above the deck, floating like scuba divers above the sea floor.

  'They better not switch the antigravity on,' said Chen. 'Or we'll hit the deck and splatter like turnip cakes.'

  'See this,' I said pointing out a groove in the wall. 'It's an entrance of some kind.'

  'Not a hatch?'

  'No.'

  'Maybe it's an emergency exit from the bridge.'

  'Well, how do we open it?' he said bobbing in front of me, blood droplets from his shirt floating around him.

  'The same we got the lights on?' I said. 'The Latin word for open. It's worth a shot.'

  'So what's the word? Without Le Seaux, we don't even have the French to go on.'

  'Can't be too hard,' I said. 'Try changing a few English words.'

  'Like what?'

  'Porto,' I tried.

  Nothing happened.

  'Well, that went well,' said Chen.

  'What's another name for an opening or windows or doors?' I said.

  Chen thought for a moment. 'Fenestration,' he said. 'That's a building term.'

  'Got any more?'

  'Aperture,' he said, 'like in photography.'

  'Aperturo,' I said, and watched the seal.

  No response.

  I opened my mouth to speak another variation on aperto, when Chen said, 'Wait! What's going to be behind that panel if we do get it open? Shouldn't we have a plan?'

  'No time,' I said.

  'And shouldn't we be quiet?'

  'Right,' I said, and then whispered, 'Aperta.'

  We watched the panel. At first, nothing happened, so we both returned to thinking of more words. Then, while we both had our heads down, Chen's surrounded by floating blood droplets, the panel slid quietly open.

  We swam to the entrance to look inside. The good news was that it was the cockpit all right. It had a large window with a view of the huge bulk of the mothership, splitting apart. Beneath the window was the cockpit itself. There were two seats and a simple set of controls: a screen displaying position, a helm and twelve or so other glowing buttons on a touch panel.

  The bad news was that the cockpit was occupied. Inside, seated at the controls was a pilot. He was dressed in the same armor and helmet as the Roman Marines, though human sized, not one of the giants. But, of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't be dangerous.

  I looked at Chen, who looked back at me and shrugged. How were we going to get the pilot out?

  I brought up the Roman weapon. The first way could be to point the weapon at him and order him out to where we could tie him up. The danger was that he might not comply. He might fight back.

  The other way was to shoot him. But to shoot the weapon might disable the cockpit, smash the glass or pierce the hull.

  A bad move.

  Another way might be to float up on him and try to strangle him from behind, which might be possible, given we had the element of surprise, plus I had the rifle to jam under his throat and pull.

  But could these aliens be strangled? They apparently didn't breathe air. Unfortunately for me and Chen, I had forgotten all about that important fact when we began to work out a plan. It

  'Know any fighting techniques?' I whispered.

  Chen instantly made several poses that resembled a pre-Accord cop directing traffic--surrounded by blood drops.

  So, I decided it had better be me who attacked the pilot.

  Bringing the rifle up, I pushed myself from the far wall and floated into the cabin, towards the back of the solitary figure at the helm. I could hear voices speaking into the helmet, and see another smaller screen that displayed the chaos inside the mothership.

  The pilot's neck was protected by his armor, but it didn't protect him all the way down to his armor. I could see a band of skin. If I could wedge the rifle into there I'd be able to put my feet onto the back of his seat and pull until I crushed his windpipe--a good plan, so long as he had a windpipe.

  I floated up behind, the rifle in both hands. I raised it slowly over the helmet, then brought it down quickly. As I did, I brought my feet forward and put them on the back of the chair. Then, I pulled back hard. The rifle barrel hit the pilot's neck. The neck compressed. The guy's hands instantly shot to his throat, wrenching at the weapon, struggling in his seat, gurgling, just as any breathing mammal would.

  So far, so good.

  After struggling for around thirty seconds, the pilot seemed to give up. His hands dropped from his throat. His body went limp. He looked just like he was dead, or at least passed out. I kept the pressure on his neck, but I was confident the plan had worked.

  Job done.

  But that's when things began to get strange.

  The pilot's head rotated on top of his neck, like a cap on a bottle. Rotated smoothly, slowly, the whole one hundred and eighty degrees from looking forward at the control to looking back.

  Still pulling on the rife, I found my self face to face with the blank glass of the helmet's reflective front. This slowly withdrew upward onto the top of the helmet. What I saw beneath was not a grizzled soldier's face, and not even a monster's face. It was the face of a thirty-something woman, a woman one straight from the pages of Beauties From The Biggest Sitcoms Of The 1960s. Fair haired, bright-eyed, full-lipped, wide-mouthed, as beautiful as the title promised. She might have been the actress from the book called Barbara Eden.

  'Bad move, Lieutenant Burns,' the woman said in a flirtatious voice, revealing perfect white teeth. Then she raised an arm and, despite her body facing the cockpit's window, she swung a fist forward and punched me hard in the face.

  Then, things got really bad.

  34

  I felt my nose squash sideways as I shot backwards out of the cabin and into the passageway, hitting the bulkhead opposite, the rifle drifting from my hands as I clutched my nose. Before I could grab the rifle again, the Barbara Eden character dived through the door with her hands out in front of her, and her head still backward. Her fingers found my throat. Her thumbs dug into my Adam's apple.

  The head rotated back to a normal position, facing me.

  'You don't really know anything about our physiology, do you?' she said, smiling, digging her thumbs in harder. 'Not one of the subjects you discussed last night, was it?' Her eyebrows rising as if she knew all about last night. 'No, don't try to speak, Alex. Just relax. This won't take long.'

  Her thumbs dug deeper still, squashing my windpipe, making it impossible to breathe. Her eyes smiled as if this were immense fun for us both. 'Excidium,' she said, smiling her beautiful, evil smile. A response came growling from the speaker inside her helmet. She responded in the same growling language, obviously bringing the main bridge up to date. Then she spoke back to me. 'Don't worry, Alex,' she said. 'It's going to be all right.'

  One thing about being strangled, now matter how good a grip your assailant has on your neck, is that it can be evaded, if you know the right technique. Though I'd never used the technique in a real fight, I knew it well from hand-to-hand combat training.

  Step one: don't panic. Step 2: don't try and pull your attacker's wrists apart. You won't succeed. Step 3: Pull violently down on the attacker's wrists and duck your head through them and then emerge on the side of one your attacker's arms. Then hit them from behind.

  With Barbara Eden's face leering at me, I prepared to make the move. What I hadn't factored into the move was Chen. He must have caught the spinning rifle because he was now floating beside us, holding it at his hip. The Barbara Eden character saw the direction of my eyes and turned to look. She saw Chen and the weapon, floating to her right, like a pre-Accord cowboy.

  'Let go,' Chen said.

  'Won't be a moment,' said the Barbara Eden character. 'Then you'll have my full attention.'

  'Last chance,' Chen said.

  'One moment,' sang Barbara Eden.

  'Too late,' said Chen.

  With her hands still around my neck, the Barbara Eden character flung a kick at the rifle. Chen moved aside at the last second and her foot whistled past him.

  'No, you don't,' Chen said, but he hadn't counted on the kick coming again. The gun muzzle was knocked aside.

  'Yes,' said Barbara Eden. 'Yes, I do.'

  Chen fired anyway.

  The blast hit Barbara Eden in the side with a sickening splodge. It obviously did a lot of damage.

  'Awooooh!' she screamed. 'Awooooooohhhhhhh!' Her hands were yanked from my neck, and she went spinning away, clutching her side, banging into one bulkhead, then another.

  Meanwhile, Chen had been flung by the recoil to the other end of the passageway, sixty yards to port, as if pulled by an enormous spring. Luckily, he had managed to keep hold of the rifle. Now, he raised the muzzle ready to fire again.

  'Chen, don't!' I croaked.

  'What?' he said.

  I pushed off the wall and swam towards him. The ship by this stage seemed to be accelerating again, so I kept bumping against the rear bulkhead. I half swam, half crawled. It took me a full minute to reach Chen. By that time, Barbara Eden had recovered enough to swim after me, smiling her beautiful, deadly smile, and somehow recovered from the blast to her side.

  'Chen, throw me the rifle,' I yelled.

  He floated, blinking, his eyes staring, his mouth open.

  'What's the matter with you?' I yelled.

  'I shot a woman.'

  'We don't know what they are,' I said.

  'Pretty convincing,' he said.

  'What's wrong with your arm?'

  'I think it dislocated when I hit the wall.'

  'Not your day.'

  'No,' he said, and then, 'Not yours, either.'

  I took the rifle from his good arm, and turned to face the advancing, swimming form coming at us. I set the iron sights first on her head and then about six feet in front, just as I'd done with the charging Goths.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26