About half of the fourteen remaining men had run toward the doorway, shouting obscenities at Skeeter’s attacking troops and charging to the attack. Several others had taken refuge behind stacked supplies, wailing—or so Hashim whispered—that they should never have attacked the crew foreman and brought the woman down here, that they hadn’t counted on killing so many people, couldn’t they just abandon the whore and run? Only two men had been left behind to guard Bergitta. She was barely conscious, face swollen and bruised, mouth and nose bleeding where they’d hit her repeatedly. Neither guard was paying any attention to her, which meant they weren’t looking at the open “wall” behind her, either.
Hashim slipped through first, easing past the two-by-fours on Bergitta’s left, while Skeeter edged past on her right. When Molly started shooting, the guards left with Bergitta moved even further away. That gave Skeeter and Hashim the chance they needed. The down-time boy struck first. He drove the sharpened screwdriver into the nearest guard’s back with a snarl of hatred. The man screamed. The other guard whirled, bringing up a knife—
Skeeter slashed with the sharpened trowel. The blow severed fingers. The man screamed and fell to his knees beside the clattering knife. A kick to the man’s head sent him sprawling. “Wire his hands!” he yelled to Hashim, who was already crouching low over Bergitta. A twist of Skeeter’s claw hammer served to break the wires around her wrists and throat. Skeeter picked her up, then shouted at the embattled construction workers, “I’ve got your hostage! You might as well give it up and surrender! Security’s on the way and there’s no way off this station! Surrender now and maybe these down-timers won’t kill you like they did your pals just now!”