There was scuffling and confused mutterings. Then Langerifs voice called out something in Jevlenese from inside the office—he had evidently disposed of his Ganymean communicator. The translation came through the earpiece that Hunt was wearing: “Spread out. Cover all the exits. Abrintz, take three men out to the concourse and secure the elevators.”
Another voice responded. “Werselek, Quon, Fassero, come with—“
Then Langerif again, from inside the office. “I didn’t say that. It’s some kind of trick. Stay where you are.”
Only to be countermanded by, “This is Langerif speaking. Do as I say.’’
“Don’t listen. That’s a fake.”
“No, I’m not. He is.”
“What do we do?” a voice pleaded somewhere in the blackness.
Then ZORAC’s voice said quietly in Hunt’s ear, “Move about eight feet to your right along the wall, and then across an alcove to a door in the far wall. It’s open, and leads into an equipment room.”
Hunt began worming his way along the base of the wall as ZORAC had indicated. Sounds of shooting and cries of panic came from the direction of the doorway leading out to the elevator concourse, accompanied by Terran voice shouting commands. A Jevlenese voice shouted, “All right, we surrender!”
“Come out with your hands up,” a Terran voice ordered. “Is that all of them in there, Sergeant?”
“All cleared here, sir. Three hostiles dead.”
“What’s going on out there?” Langerifs voice demanded.
“PAC security is outside,” a voice replied. “They’ve taken over the whole floor. We’re trapped.”
‘‘That’s impossible.”
“That wasn’t me speaking,” Langerif’s voice said again.
Reaching the door that ZORAC had indicated, Hunt felt his way through. Del Cullen’s voice called out, “You calculated wrong, Langerif. Half your men were working undercover for us. We’ve got the rest of the building tied up. It’s over. Throw down your guns and come out.”
“Do as he says,” Langerifs voice instructed.
“Take no notice,” another Langerif said.
Hunt bumped his head painfully on an edge of projecting metal. Feeling ahead with his fingers, he hauled himself carefully to his feet, tracing the shapes of equipment racking and supports around him. It came to him then, what was happening. ZORAC was a ship’s computer. Its first priority was the safety of the Shapieron’s crew. Seeing them being rounded up at gunpoint had spurred it into the only action that it was capable of.
Langerif had grasped it, too. “Very clever, for a machine,” his voice snarled in the darkness. “But if the idea is to protect your Ganymeans, you’d better quit right now. We’ve got two of them here and a bunch more outside the door. If the lights aren’t back in five seconds, we shoot.”
“Hear that, you men?” another voice called out. “There aren’t any Terrans. It was the computer.”
Hunt heard the door close, and then the light came on to reveal him alone in a space crammed with electronics cubicles and cabling.
“Great special effects,” he complimented.
“It was the best I could do,” ZORAC said. “I’ve got some of them shut up here and there around the place, but they’re starting to sort themselves out. Some of PAC security came out on the other side, too.’’
“What’s the general situation?”
“A mess.”
“What about the others?”
“Garuth and Shilohin are still there in his office. I got Danchekker into an elevator across the hail while the lights were out. Nixie took off and lost herself somewhere.”
“And the rest?”
“Cullen and his guys are in the middle of a fight down in security. Duncan and Sandy have been grabbed by police in the UNSA labs. Gina got away from her quarters before they arrived. She wants to talk to you.”
“Put her through.”
“And so does Langerif. He’s demanding that you give yourself up, otherwise he’ll shoot Garuth.”
Hunt drew a long breath. There were some things that the Jevlenese might be able to explain away when this got back to JPC, he thought; but not murdering the planetary governor. Even Langerif had to be smart enough to know that.
“He’s bluffing,” Hunt said.
“You think so?”
“Yes. Tell him you’re not getting a response. My headset must have been knocked off in the dark, right?”