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After her first fire fight above the medical area, she thought of another way
to do it. The suit made noise-no chance of sneaking up on anybody. So at each
landing she barged right on up until her head showed above the deck, then
ducked down. When shooting came, she waited until it stopped-then she eased
the heavy energy gun up over, to point along the deck, and cut loose with a
quick, swinging blast.
And then came up and took care of what was left.
Twice, that meant killing. One time, all she saw was people running away,
leaving guns on the deck.
And three times there were men or women nursing seared legs, not interested in
the guns they'd dropped.
She tossed the weapons down the stairwell, and didn't bother asking anybody to
surrender.
Up to the next level-at the galley entrance stood an armed guard. Inside, she
saw people sitting, not moving.
\r 245
\rThe guard's gun sank to point down at the deck; he stared at Zelde like he
wished he didn't have to.
Past him, at a table, Zelde saw Rooster Hogan. She said, "Guard! How you stay
alive is, I call somebody out from the galley and you give him that gun." She
waited; the man gave a short, jerky nod.
"All right-Rooster, the man wants you to have his gun." And a minute later,
Rooster had the guard's job-
but from inside, behind a barricade.
As Zelde left, he shouted after her, "Turk's still hurting, but she's going to
make it!" She waved back to
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Now, she knew, none of it would be easy. From the next level, before she got
up there, a grenade bounced down the steps. Her energy gun caught it, and it
blew like a steam kettle, not a bomb. Then she ran straight up into the lot of
them, and caught them flatflooted, not expecting what they saw. One died and
two gave up.
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Coming to the next deck, it sounded too quiet, so she looked hard and saw
something-a trip-thread, stretched straight across. She reached up and pulled
it-and projector fire washed the deck above. When it died out-and she figured
that what was left wouldn't get her, through the suit-she went on up. She
passed that charred area and saw no one, dead or alive.
One deck below Control, she ran into trouble. When she did her routine of pop
up and duck back, the return fire didn't stop. And at a quick guess, she'd
seen at least six armed people.
Waiting would make it worse-they could get more troops from upstairs, and
pinpoint her. Down two levels- \ifast-\ishe picked up the corpse, and its
needlegun. Then, back up again.
She shoved the dead one up to take the fire-and that fire came. With her left
hand-the dead arm hung over it-she sprayed bullets, counting the seconds. At
ten, she screamed and let the body sag down onto her, below deck-level; her
last shot took out the overhead light. Then she waited.
First, only one looked down at the corpse sprawled over her-then two, then a
third. She threw the body at them, and stood, looking across the deck, and
fired short projector bursts until nothing lived to stop her.
One more climb, to Control. They'd be warned-the
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fight below hadn't been quiet. But she found the landing clear, and turned
toward the control room itself.
The door was open-blown partly off its hinges and sagging to one side. A
direct approach was too dangerous; she came at an angle and risked a quick
look inside. Before she could see much, she got what she expected-a burst of
energy fire. But it was heavier than her own gun could give. \iWhat the
hell?\i
She dropped flat-the suit's gyros made the move slower than she liked-and
peered around the door edge.
It wasn't good-before the crash of energy fire came, over her head but only a
little, she saw that much.
A barricade-everything loose must have been piled up to make it. And somebody
in a helmet-Carlo?
probably-aiming a gun over it. And now she saw where the big projector,
designed as part of the suit, had gone. Carlo had it.
The one good part was the \iway\i he had it, lying across a cabinet. He
couldn't point it down to reach her-his blasts came dead flat across.
But he wasn't the only one shooting-energy and needle weapons, both. She
hitched her own gun up and sprayed at the lot-fast, so as not to wreck Control
but maybe get their heads down and the guns quiet.
The suit was tough- but repeated hits in one place could get through and kill
her.
In sudden quiet she came to her feet-running stooped-down, she charged. She
swung her gun in quick bursts- \ikeep down, you peacefuckers!-\ibut the bigger
weapon on the barricade was reaching for her, flaring. She wasn't close
enough-she threw her own gun and knocked the other out of line.
Firing from the sides distracted her; she ignored it and hit the piled-up
barrier with the suit's full power.
As she crashed through, falling, a gun came close against her head. She
grabbed it and threw it down-
and saw she'd also torn away the hand that held it.
One of the suit's knees jammed. She pivoted on the other leg and saw Mauragin,
face pale through the
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One lurching step, and she had him by the shoulder. He shrieked; she picked
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him up, one-handed, and threw him at two who shot at her.
Off balance, she fell. Scrambling up-the knee worked again but the suit was
slow now, its gyro clutches chatter-
\r247
\ring-she swung a heavy chair first against one gun-wielder and then the
other. She dropped it and picked up the big projector Carlo had used-wired,
with untidy cabling, to draw ship's power. She moved, so that no Control
functions were in her line of fire-and blasted everything that stood. Smoke
billowed-
and the \istink. . . .\i
Gasping, she turned to see if anybody was running the ship. Gil Charvel,
handcuffed to an armrest, sat in one Control Seat. Two seats away, both hands
bound, was Lera Tzane-and bending over her, facing away from Zelde, was a
short, skinny woman. Lera screamed; Zelde made the crippled suit move, and
caught the woman's arm.
Carefully, so as not to tear the arm off, she turned that one to face her. She
hardly noticed the hypo-
ampoule the woman dropped. What she saw was the face-the nose, flattened to
one side. And now, from
Hold, Portside Upper, she remembered it.
Harder than she meant to, Zelde shook the woman; she heard bone snap. "Tessi
Franzel, you'd be. I
think you owe me more than your whole life's got in it, to pay. But we'll have
us one real good talk, finding out."
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