‘What do you want, Jason? What are you trying to do? Why did you lead those animals in here?” His voice cracked and broke as anger choked him and spilled over.
“Watch your tongue, Kerk,” Jason said with soft menace. “These men you are talking about are the only ones on Pyrrus who have a spaceship. If you want them to share it with you, you had better learn to talk nicely. Now come over here at once-and bring Brucco and Meta.” Jason looked at the older man’s florid and swollen face and felt a measure of sympathy. “Don’t look so unhappy, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, it might be the beginning of one. And another thing, leave this channel open when you go. Have it hooked into every screen in the city so everyone can see what happens here. Make sure it’s taped too, for replay.”
Kerk started to say something, but changed his mind before he did. He left the screen, but the set stayed alive. Carrying the scene in the control room to the entire city.
27
The fight was over. It had ended so quickly the fact hadn’t really sunk in yet. Rhes rubbed his hand against the gleaming metal of the control console, letting the reality of touch convince him. The other men milled about, looking out through the viewscreens or soaking in the mechanical strangeness of the room.
Jason was physically exhausted, but he couldn’t let it show. He opened the pilot’s medbox and dug through it until he found the stimulants. Three of the little gold pills washed the fatigue from his body, and he could think clearly again.
“Listen to me,” he shouted. “The fight’s not over yet. They’ll try anything to take this ship back and we have to be ready. I want one of the techs to go over these boards until he finds the lock controls. Make sure all the airlocks and ports are sealed. Send men to check them, if necessary. Turn on all the screens to scan in every direction, so no one can get near the ship. We’ll need a guard in the engine room; my control could be cut if they broke in there. And there had better be a room-by-room search of the ship, in case someone else is locked in with us.”
The men had something to do now and felt relieved. Plies split them up into groups and set them to work. Jason stayed at the controls, his hand next to the pump switch. The battle wasn’t over yet.
“There’s a truck coming,” Plies called, “going slow.”
“Should I blast it?” the man at the gun controls asked.
“Hold your fire,” Jason said, “until we can see who it is. If it’s the people I sent for, let them through.”
As the truck came on slowly, the gunner tracked it with his sights. There was a driver and three passengers. Jason waited until he was positive who they were.
“Those are the ones,” he said. “Stop them at the lock, Plies, make them come in one at a time. Take their guns as they enter, then strip them of all their equipment. There is no way of telling what could be a concealed weapon. Be specially careful of Brucco-he’s the thin one
with a face like an axe edge-make sure you strip him clean. He’s a specialist in weapons and survival. And bring the driver, too; we don’t want him reporting back about the broken airlock or the state of our guns.”
Waiting wAs hard. His hand stayed next to the pump switch, even though he knew he could never use it. Just as long as the others thought he would.
There were stampings and muttered curses in the corridor; the prisoners were pushed in. Jason had one look at their deadly expressions and clenched fists before he called to Plies.
“Keep them against the wall and watch them. Bowmen keep your weapons up.” He looked at the people who had once been his friends and who now swam in hatred for him. Meta, Kerk, Brucco. The driver was Skop, the man Kerk had once appointed to guard him. He looked ready to explode now that the roles had been reversed.