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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ATTACK

"I don't think we should wait any longer," said Yesugen. "If we strike now, they won't have time to seal up surface level, and we can go right in."

"I agree," said Kabul, "but I think we should do everything possible to avoid casualties on both sides. We're moving against civilians, not professional military, and they believe we'll slaughter their families if they don't kill us first. Once inside, we have to convince them it isn't true."

They had taken breakfast in their tiny cubicle on board Yesugen's flagship after a cramped though intimate night sleeping together in her narrow bunk. Now they hunched over a small table, an architectural drawing of the Gutien facilities spread out between them. Yesugen tapped the drawing with her finger.

"The major ports are here, here, and here."

"Warehouses, and this one is maintainence for the crawlers," said Kabul, pointing. "All supplies go through the warehouses, and the locks are large enough to hold ten crawlers at a time. We'll have to go in at these places. The layout for Nan is smaller, but similar. Do you want to see it?"

"No. We're not moving against Nan."

"We're not? We have six thousand marines on the ships there!"

Yesugen ignored his comment. "What are these smaller ports here?"

"Emergency exits for personnel, and always sealed. The releases are activated from inside in case of fire or toxic gases. The people have to exit in single file along these narrow hallways and stairwells." Kabul's finger moved over the drawing in several places. "Their living quarters are down here, on fourth level."

"That's where the families are," said Yesugen.

"Yes, most of the time. There is a recreation area, up here on level three."

"Not likely to be occupied while they're under attack," said Yesugen, and Kabul shrugged his shoulders. Yesugen looked at him, and smiled.

"I'm confusing you, dear. You wonder what I'm up to."

"I always wonder what you're up to," said Kabul, smiling fondly back at her.

"Well, here's what I'm thinking," she said. "They will be expecting a massive frontal assault at one or more of these major ports, and we're going to give it to them. All we need is one cruiser, landing here," she tapped. "Two companies, with engineers, will hit these two ports. If our inside people can get them open for us, fine, but I'm not counting on it, and we'll probably have to cut our way in. I don't want our ship to blast those ports."

"They'll just sit and wait for us, Yesugen. It's going to be brutal."

"Possibly, yes, but while we're banging on their front door and they're preparing to slaughter us, we'll be going in here, and here, to cut off their living quarters and families from them."

"Hostages," said Kabul.

"So it will seem, until we make it clear we're there to protect their families from harm. Our inside people must open these smaller ports for us, Kabul. Are they electronic?"

"Yes, but there are manual releases at each port, connected to an alarm system. The locks are small, Yesugen. Twenty people at a time."

"Then thirty of our marines will fit in there. I think sixty will do, at each port. Two shuttles, landing here, simultaneous with the cruiser, unobtrusively. If our inside people can open these ports, we can be inside in a few minutes, down these halls and stairwells to occupy the living quarters, and set up defenses here, and here." Her finger was now tapping rapidly on the drawing. "The halls are narrow there. They can't fight backwards with any strength along those routes, but they must know we're there, that the families are in our hands, but not threatened by us. Hopefully, they'll give up at that point."

"Tokta Kuril has them scared to death of atrocities our marines will perform with their women and children. He'll fire them up for an all-out assault."

"Kuril will be dead, and Jumdshan with him. I want both of them terminated at the moment our cruiser comes in."

"If our people are caught doing it, those ports won't be unsealed," said Kabul quickly, and he frowned at her.

"Then we'll blast our way in. The living quarters have their own seals. I don't like assassination either, Kabul, but killing these two men can end this thing quickly, and save lives on both sides. If I can help it, not a single marine or worker will be killed, but Kuril and Jumdshan are now central leaders in this action, and I want them dead."

"I understand," said Kabul softly, and Yesugen reached over to hold his hand in hers.

"There was a time when your soft heart irritated me, darling, but in the end I fell in love with it. Now we're at war, and I must be harsh again."

Kabul nodded, and squeezed her hand. "I know," he whispered.

 

When the cruiser came in, they were as ready as they could be with untrained men. Packing crates had been piled high against the doors of the inner locks, and also served as barricades, behind which the men waited quietly to fondle their weapons like children with toys. They had been waiting like this for a day and a night, and Jumdshan had just come back from Communications with nothing new to report. Yesugen's ships were still in place, although one cruiser had left Nan and was now heading towards them apparently to reinforce the Gutien blockade. Shuttles had been seen leaving Yesugen's flagship earlier in the day, in transit to a nearby cruiser now below Gutien's horizon.

Jumdshan stood at the back of the warehouse and watched the men dozing behind their barricades. Oghul Ghaimish was trying to keep them awake, going from man to man with a slap on a shoulder, a little shake, a few soft, encouraging words.

Jumdshan still felt uneasy about the man after hearing his lies to Lingdan Zedenbal. They'd been so smooth, and with conviction, all for the cause, of course, but Jumdshan had had to bite his tongue while he listened to them. The veiled insinuation about his safekeeping of payroll cash had been an insult, for he'd trusted Ghaimish enough to let him be there on more than one occasion when he'd opened the vault. Anger had turned to suspicion, and he'd gone to the vault again to count everything in it, but found it was all there. Still, he felt a nagging distrust of the man, a feeling that there was more to his agenda than a quest for independence, and now the critical moment of that quest was at hand.

"There's a message for you, Steward!"

Jumdshan turned around, startled, saw a man in the orange jumpsuit of second level, beckoning to him. "I was passing by Communications, and they sent me to get you. It's something about ship movements in the blockade." The man turned, walked away towards Communications, and Jumdshan followed him quickly. Now it begins, he thought.

They went down a corridor and made a right turn towards Communications, along a narrow hallway brightly lit by ceiling panels. Halfway there, the man ahead of him slowed, and turned left, giving a little wave to indicate he was taking his leave of him, now that Communications was only a few doors ahead. Jumdshan waved back, and walked past him.

He only made it two steps before a hard arm snaked around his throat, pulling him back in a strangling grip, and choking off his cry. There was a horrible, sharp pain in his lower back, then numbness everywhere as he was released, crumpling to the floor.

"Now for Ghaimish," muttered his assailant, and the sound of shuffling feet faded away with Jumdshan's last breath.

 

"It's not the usual stuff, Ma'am. There're some pretty big pieces in this swarm, and we calculate impact with the city in just over four hours," said the voice in Yesugen's ear.

Yesugen pressed a hand to her other ear when Kabul shouted an order to someone behind him, and waved a hand at him for quiet.

"I can't spare any ships, now; we're moving in on Gutien!"

"Wouldn't help anyway, Ma'am. Under full thrust, you're still seven hours out from the city. It'd be too late for them. Should I warn the city?"

Yesugen thought furiously; the child she carried seemed distressed by her sudden mood, and shifted inside her. "No. There is something else I can do. Keep tracking the swarm, and let me know if there are any changes in trajectory."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Her face felt hot, and the baby shifted again, poking at her with a little fist, or foot. Kabul shook his head, and gripped her arm.

"Couldn't be worse timing. The shuttles are down, and the cruiser is coming in," he said.

"Take over for a moment, Kabul," she said. "I must call Yesui for this."

Kabul nodded, and Yesugen leaned back in her chair, folding her hands together, and closing her eyes.

Yesui! It's Yesugen, and I need your help. Come quickly! 

No answer. Yesugen bit her lip in frustration, and mumbled, "Oh, don't you dare to be off playing somewhere. You promised to be here!"

Yesui! Please! 

The answer was like thunder in her mind.

I'm here. I'M HERE! Don't be so impatient, Yesugen. I just did the most marvelous thing with my brother's ship, and there was only a small problem with— 

Yesui! Listen to me! An asteroid swarm is approaching Lan-Sui City, and some large pieces in it could destroy the city. I'm too far away to help, and we're beginning our attack against Gutien. Can you use the gong-shi-jie to take care of those asteroids, Yesui? 

Of course. Where are they? 

About a hundred thousand kilometers out from the city, and closing fast. Do you want coordinates? 

No matter. I see them, now. Oooh, there are some big ones in there. I really need to eliminate the alpha ring to stop all of this. I'll get right on it, Yesugen. Bye! 

And she was gone. Yesugen opened her eyes, and saw Kabul grinning at her. "She's a delight," he said, for although he'd not heard Yesui's words, he'd felt her presence.

Yesugen shook her head. "When I see her in the gong-shi-jie, she's a beautiful, grown woman. When I talk to her, she's a child."

She stood up, patting her stomach. "I want to get ready early, Kabul. Let's see if I can still squeeze into one of those environmental suits."

"I wish you wouldn't go down there," he said. "I can take care of everything."

"The fighting will be ended, dear, and I need to be there to assure the men and their families there will be no atrocities committed on Gutien. Now be a good father, and find me a suit that will allow our child room in which to move."

They hurried away to the shuttle bay.

 

The warehouse floor shuddered, as if something enormous had been dropped on it. Everyone's eyes went wide with surprise, and they hunkered down reflexively behind the barricades. Ghaimish snorted at their frightened reaction, and walked to the pile of crates before the inner door of the lock, rifle in hand. He pressed an ear to the steel wall there, and listened, then jerked back when there was a loud clang.

"They're outside!" he shouted. "Get ready!"

Ghaimish was halfway back to the surrounding barricades when a warning came from a loudspeaker.

"ENEMY CRUISER LANDED! PORT TWO, TEN METERS OUT!"

And then the alarms went off, loud and warbling.

Ghaimish's heart fluttered from the sound, for it was not the staccato scream warning of an opening lock, but that of a fire or toxic gas emergency. Somewhere, the seal of an emergency exit near their living quarters had been broken. His mind whirled. Operations were shut down, so how could there be fire? Panic in the face of attack; someone inside trying to flee, or—

"I need ten men!" he shouted, pointing at frightened faces. "You, you, and you! All of you, come with me! The rest of you wait until that door slides up, then fire at will!" 

The men he'd pointed to stumbled forward to form a ragged line behind him, their breathing loud and hoarse with fear. "Keep those rifles at port arms!" he roared, fearing one of them might accidentally shoot him. "Fire only as commanded!"

He led them down a long corridor toward stairs above the living quarters, and past Communications, where he nearly shot a man who dared to peek outside. A man in an orange jumpsuit jerked back at an intersection and stared at them as they raced past. Ghaimish's eyes darted to the man's face, and something on the floor behind him, something wrapped in clear polymer and tied with rope.

The stairs neared, and to the right was a short hallway leading to one emergency lock, two others back towards the warehouse along another corridor. One seal broken, or all three? He tried to slow down, but the men were pushing in behind him and he was forced into the middle of the intersection when they reached it.

He looked right, leveling his rifle. A man dressed in orange stood by the lock door, waving an arm, and men were piling out of the lock, small men, in environmental suits, visors black, rifles swinging in his direction as they saw him. Ghaimish dropped to the floor, getting off one shot as he shrieked, "Fire!" 

The corridor lit up with the blue flashes of laser fire. Men screamed. One fell on top of him. He hauled the man up in front of him as a shield, and left him as a smoking ruin, stumbling back down the hallway leading to the warehouse, men backing up behind him, firing blindly at walls and floor. "Cover the intersection!" he yelled, then fled down the hallway, two men running right behind him.

The man in orange he'd seen minutes before stepped out in front of him, and a blade flashed in his hand.

Ghaimish twisted his body as he crashed into the assailant, and the man just behind him cried out as they all went down in a heap. Fingers clawed at Ghaimish's eyes, and he smashed a knee into the assailant's groin, rolled him over, then slammed the butt of his rifle against the man's temple. Ghaimish scrambled to his knees, gasping for breath. One of his own men writhed on the floor next to him, the hilt of a knife protruding from his stomach. The other was standing, staring down at them, a rifle shaking in his hands. Ghaimish pointed at his assailant, and gasped, "Kill him."

The soldier-worker looked like he'd just been ordered to kill his own child, and didn't move.

Ghaimish stood up, and rolled his assailant over on his back. The man looked up at him, and smiled. "You're finished, Kuril," he growled.

Ghaimish shot him twice in the face, just above the bridge of the nose.

His companion stared in horror. Behind him, the hallway flashed with laser fire, and there was another scream.

"Get back to the warehouse, and bring at least twenty men back with you! I'll stay here to help hold the intersection. If they get past us, your families will all be dead in minutes!"

The man sprinted away from him. Ghaimish looked towards the intersection of halls near the exit port, saw the backs of three men huddled at the corner, other men blackened and sprawled on the floor. He turned back to the corridor his assailant had come from, and stepped into it, out of sight of the others. The polymer-wrapped bundle was still there. He looked down at it, and saw Jumdshan's staring eyes looking back at him through clear plastic.

"Damn her," he growled, and sprinted down the corridor, around a corner, then another, rifle leveled. Anyone who saw him now would die. He had minutes, at least, with all the chaos of battle, but there were a myriad of hallways leading to the shuttle bays, and he had no intention of leaving empty-handed. He went down a flight of stairs to second level, and straight to the Steward's office.

Jumdshan's secretary was there, a young woman in her twenties, eyes wide with fear. The vault was open, and she was furiously stuffing wan notes into mail bags, two of them already bulging with cash. She seemed relieved when she saw him.

"Have you seen Jumdshan? He has to tell me where to hide these bags!"

"How nice of you to do all the work for me," said Ghaimish.

He shot her once in the chest, and she crumpled to the floor.

Ghaimish grabbed one filled bag, and ran back up the stairs, the cash bag light in one hand, the rifle heavy in the other. The route to the nearest shuttle bay passed near the warehouse, and where the hallway ended, he'd be in sight of it. Two sets of tracks were there at floor level, a wide expanse of concrete along which robotic cars transfered their cargos to and from the shuttles, and above it the metal trellis with catwalks servicing the heavy cranes that moved units too large for the cars. Once up onto the trellis, he would not easily be seen, and could move quickly to the shuttle bay with little chance of detection.

The open, helical stairwell going up to the catwalks was near when someone ran by, and Ghaimish flattened himself against a wall, waited, inched forward agonizing steps at a time, looked around a corner. No cars on the tracks, and one man, still moving away from him towards the shuttle bay. A clanging sound from the warehouse, men shouting, but no sound of laser fire as yet.

He leapt to the stairwell, and scrambled up stairs to the top, where a single catwalk stretched far, a straight line to where he wanted to go. He was tempted to run, but didn't, padding softly along, conscious of every squeak in the metal under his feet, and looking often towards the tracks ten meters beneath him. He came to the control cab for the cranes, rifle leveled, but it was not occupied. Another two hundred meters, and he was—

A clang, and then the distinctive sound of the warehouse lock door sliding open. Laser fire erupted in the warehouse.

The lights went out, and he froze where he was, standing in pitch blackness, and then there was the sound of the lock door shutting again, and a few flashes of reflected light from warehouse rifle fire. Men were now screaming in panic. Below him, someone ran back from the shuttle bay, carrying a hand-torch, passing so close he could hear the man's ragged breathing, and then there was a terrible silence.

Ghaimish found the handrails of the catwalk, and kept moving in the darkness, grimacing at each little sound he made. Five meters—ten—

A loudspeaker broke the silence.

"CEASE FIRING, AND THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS! Your position is sealed off, and we have your families under protective custody. We have no desire to take your lives, but we'll do so if you don't surrender immediately, and we will protect your families from any foolish decision you make. Your outer lock is now open to space, and we have control over all locks. If you refuse to surrender, we'll open your inner lock and begin depressurization. You have ten minutes to decide your fate. If you're wise, you'll place your rifles at the center of the floor, and step back to your barricades, hands on heads. We have you under infrared surveillence. TEN MINUTES!"

Ghaimish kept going, cursing under his breath, forehead cold with his anticipation of sudden decompression. Another ten meters, then twenty, one shuffling step at a time, until suddenly a railing pushed hard against his stomach. His breath rushed from him and he grunted in surprise, nearly dropping his rifle. Below him, red lights glowed softly from the edges of two wedge-shapes, and there was a whine of electrical generators within their hulls.

He felt around with hands and feet, found the stairs leading downwards, and descended them.

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the bay was suddenly flooded in bright light again.

 

Yesugen and Kabul entered the warehouse within a phalanx of guards, helmets cradled under their arms. Hundreds of men sat on the floor, hands on their heads, sullen and frightened when they saw her. These are not bad people, she thought, and so she tried to give them some words of assurance.

"I am Yesugen, Empress of Meng-shi-jie," she said in a loud, growling voice, "and my forces are here for the sole purpose of bringing order to Gutien. You and your families will not be harmed in any way, now that you've put down your weapons, but we'll remain here until Gutien is functioning again. That is our only interest in you.

"You seek independence from Lan-Sui, and that is a decision for your Governor to make. I do not control him. He has uncovered corruption in your own union, and in the company that pays your wages, and he's taken the guilty parties into custody. Many of your problems have been caused by this corruption. Your Governor is a good man, but now you must talk to him directly, not through others who've lied to you, and I think you'll find that your lives here will be better."

The men still looked at her sullenly, but their eyes told her that fear had waned, and for the moment, it was enough.

Colonel Manek came over to brief them, and Yesugen smiled. "Nice to see you again, Colonel. You've risen two ranks since I saw you last, and now I see why."

"Thank you, Ma'am," said Manek, "but it was the speed and determination of our men that determined the outcome. We did have casualties: four dead, and seven seriously wounded, otherwise a few flesh burns. I'm sorry to say there are thirty-five civilians dead, including Jumdshan and a young woman we found in his office, and so far we haven't been able to find Tokta Kuril. He was seen here when the fighting started, and we're still searching for him. The families are coming out one by one, and we suspect he's hidden himself among them."

"All the surviving workers are here?" she asked, pointing at their prisoners.

"Half of them, Ma'am. We didn't hit the second warehouse, but the people there gave up without a shot as soon as they heard what happened here. We also have to get crews to come out of nine debris-control shuttles that are docked here. They've surrendered, but locked themselves in until their safety is assured. They sent an emissary to us, that man over there in the blue jumpsuit, standing. He's taking us to a shuttle bay in just a few minutes to get two of the crews out. Those ships are really something to see, Ma'am. We don't have anything like them."

"I would like to see them with you," said Yesugen, but then Kabul grasped her arm.

"Too dangerous. Let them get the crews out first," he said.

"Really?"

"I doubt it, Ma'am," said Manek. "It might even be easier if you were there to assure them of their safety. There is risk, of course," he added quickly, for Kabul was glaring at him.

"I want to see those ships," said Yesugen, and that was the end of it.

A few minutes later, surrounded by a phalanx of guards, she began the walk along the high, wide bay leading to where two of the newly armed and armored shuttles were now docked.

 

"Five minutes to release, Captain, but the Meng-shi-jie ships haven't even moved yet. They must have seen us, by now," said Ral Darpo.

"I don't understand," said Lingdan. "All the facilities, the workforce in the city, why would she just let it all go? It doesn't make sense, Ral. If she made a move right now, would she get here in time?"

"I've already calculated it, sir. At best, she'd have to fire at a range of sixty-five thousand kilometers, but that was if she'd moved minutes ago. I don't think it's possible, not with targets our size. We're going to destroy the city, Captain."

Darpo looked at him somberly, and saw something in his eyes. "We were supposed to be a diversion, and it hasn't worked."

"Then the mission is over," said Lingdan softly. "There's no further need for what we're doing."

"Yes, sir." It seemed the man was reading his mind.

"We're still quite a ways out. A short radial burn should put those asteroids into Lan-Sui's atmosphere. Do we have the fuel for it?"

Darpo checked. "That, and enough to get back to the alpha ring, but not enough to reach Gutien."

"Call the others," said Lingdan.

All pilots reported in within a minute.

"This is Zendenbal. Abort mission! Repeat: the mission is aborted! Engage your cargo, and initiate a five-minute radial burn immediately! Verify!"

All called in. "Why?" was the only question.

"Yesugen's ships have not responded to our diversion. Do any of you want to destroy the city without reason?"

Silence.

"Verify compliance, please."

All replies affirmed his command, and he steered his own ship into engagement with the mountain of rock, iron, and ice that flew near him.

They did a five minute burn under full thrust, and prepared to disengage. "That ought to do it," said Lingdan, feeling relieved, and he looked up at the forward observing screen as the nose of his ship turned towards the direction of Lan-Sui City.

Distant stars, the alpha ring curving over them and down beyond a boiling, planetary atmosphere, huge, convective plumes reaching upwards from it, and then, quite suddenly, all of it seemed to boil, even the ring, the images of the stars.

A shimmering, purple curtain appeared like mist to fill the blackness of space, growing brighter, obscuring first the stars and then the ring, rushing towards them, spots of red and green flickering within it as it came.

Darpo screamed beside him.

An explosion of incredible brightness, burning out his eyes before the sensors failed. In his mind, there was only purple light, and a brief sensation of heat, and then there was nothing at all.

 

Ghaimish went up the stairs like a rush of wind, the cash bag bumping along behind him. Never in his life had he felt so exposed, and there was no place to hide, only the single catwalk of steel lattice stretching hundreds of meters. He hunkered down at the top of the stairs, their helical structure a shield from directly below, but all anyone by the shuttles had to do to see him was just look up.

He did not have to wait long to test the security of his position.

There was a screech of metal against metal that echoed from the walls, and a hatch opened in one of the two shuttles below him. A man in a blue jumpsuit stepped out onto the steel grill of the dock separating the shuttles, and descended a few stairs there, the hatch closing behind him. In an instant, there was a face at the thick window of one cockpit area, watching him walk away. The crews are inside, thought Ghaimish. Six men, he remembered.

Chest pressed to his knees, Ghaimish did not move even his head as the man walked beneath him and on towards the warehouse. When the footsteps had faded, he risked a peek at the shuttles, and saw that the face at a cockpit window was still there. He could not show his position, not now, for he might have to return to it. The shuttles were manned, but one crew member had left, walking calmly back towards the warehouse. Why? To surrender, of course. He'd heard nothing from the warehouse for minutes, now, no firing, no shouting. Silence. Had the crews taken a vote to surrender, or was it just one man giving himself up to Yesugen's troops?

Two shuttles, manned and fueled, meters away from him, and he had a bag full of cash in his hand. A sprint from dock, then out to the ring, and no cruiser could keep up with them. Hide awhile, then sneak back to Nan, or even the city, when things had cooled. Maybe. The risks were terrible, the chance he'd get away even worse, but what else did he have?

He had cash, and two crews grounded without pay for weeks. I'll just have to see how hungry they really are, he thought.

The face at the cockpit window disappeared, and Ghaimish scurried down the stairs, cursing at the loss of time. Nobody was coming from the warehouse, but he heard a faint sound from there, someone speaking loudly. He walked straight to the dock, making no effort to hide his rifle, and climbed the few stairs there, feet clanging on grill work. Faces appeared at cockpit windows on both sides of him, staring. He slung the rifle on his shoulder, held up the bag and pointed at it. "Payroll cash," he said. "Steward Jumdshan sent me to hide it in your ships before it's stolen from us."

Blank stares, even after he'd repeated himself three times. They couldn't hear him! He put the bag at his feet, rummaged in it, and came up with a fistful of wan notes, waved it at the nearest face, then stuffed the money in the bag again. "I want you to take this," he said, mouthing the words carefully.

There was a thud within the hull of one ship, and the hatch opened, a short, swarthy man in a blue jumpsuit standing there. "What is this?" asked the man. "You still have your rifle. We thought it was all over!"

"It is," said Ghaimish, "but not for us. I've got half our payroll here, and we're going to get out, if you're willing to risk it. Equal shares for all of us."

"You're nuts," said the man, but his eyes were on the bag of cash. "We've already surrendered, and we sent a guy down there to tell 'em that. They'll be back for us any second now."

"No time for discussion, then. Let's get going. Equal shares, mister. I'm serious, so fire it up."

The man laughed at him. "And do what? Fly through six feet of steel and concrete? The door is closed, and it'll stay closed."

"So blast your way out. You have the weapons for it. Make a jump over the horizon, and put Gutien between us and the cruisers. I'll show you where to go." Ghaimish let go of the cash bag, and put a hand on the sling of his rifle.

His move did not escape the man's notice. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Oghul Ghaimish. I worked with the Steward to set up our defenses here, but now he's dead, slaughtered like a pig, and the same thing will happen to us if we don't get going!"

The man scowled. "Yeah, I've heard of you. You stirred up a real mess for us, and now you want to get away. No dice, mister. We ain't goin' anywhere." Standing in the hatch, he looked over Ghaimish's head, and smiled.

"Tell you what. You put down that rifle, and bring the bag in here with you. We'll hide you under the floor after we split the cash. They'll only be looking for five people in here. When we're gone, you're on your own."

Ghaimish hesitated, his hand grasping the rifle sling. The man looked again towards the warehouse, and grabbed the edge of the hatch cover, as if preparing to close it.

"How do I know you won't turn me in?" Ghaimish growled.

"You don't, and you've got seconds to decide. They're comin' for us now, and you'd better get rid of that rifle unless you want to die."

"I don't think so," said Ghaimish, and he whipped the rifle off his shoulder, but too slowly. The man lunged from the hatch and tackled him. They went down struggling for control of the rifle. The bag at his feet was kicked open, and suddenly wan notes were fluttering around his head. He heard the bang of the hatch closing again, and got an arm around the man's neck and throat, pulling back and up under his chin, then jerked him to his feet and snapped his neck with a single twist.

The man slumped in his grip, but Ghaimish held him up as a shield, for a crowd had suddenly appeared on the floor below the dock: troopers in environmental suits, rifles raised, and behind them a cluster of men surrounding a tall woman with gaunt face and tusks who could only be one person.

"Going somewhere, Mister Kuril?" said the woman.

His rifle was at his feet. Ghaimish released his human shield, and grabbed up the rifle as the dead man fell, then crouched, firing rapid bursts at the woman and cackling insanely as she screamed and fell to the floor.

The bursts of twenty laser rifles struck him simultaneously.

 

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