Cleland’s voice cracked. “Hanny?”
Brent glowered at him. “She humiliated me, the slut, deliberately, and ever since then I’ve felt her gloat, oh, yes. Oh, yes. Hanny, dear,” he purred, “you’ve got a lesson coming.”
“What — what —”
“When we reach Tahir. The Tahirians who take the prisoners off, they’ll cooperate. They’ll do whatever we ask. They’ll even help. For all they know, I’ll be bidding her a sweet farewell.”
“No, no,” Cleland wailed.
Brent grinned. “And cute little Wenji and hot big Mam, how about them, eh? How’d you like a piece of that for yourself? Hey? It’d be a lesson to the men, too. Justice.”
Cleland sat dumb.
Brent observed. “Uh, just a thought,” he said quickly. “Just a notion. We’ve a lot to do, a long way to go, before the question rises. . . . Rises,” he snickered. He refilled his goblet. “Come on, we’d better drink up and turn in. A hard day’s work ahead of us.”
“If. . . I can sleep —”
Brent summoned a degree of sobriety. “If you can’t, I’ll fix that tomorrow. Trust me. Follow me, and I’ll lead you further than men ever went before.”
Nightwatch yielded to mornwatch. Cleland sat in his darkened cabin. The only light was from the screen in front of him. He had evoked a close-in image of the black hole. Around and down into its absolute night swept the tidal vortex of fire.
“Jean, Jean, forgive me,” he whispered. “When you died, on top of everything else, I — I don’t know. It seemed like I had to lash out somehow. And Al was my friend, my last human friend — I believed —”
He bit his lip. Blood trickled. “No. Now I’m feeling sorry for myself. Again.”
Air stirred, a barren tiny noise among the shadows.
“What to do, Jean? What would you have done?”
Odd, how soon the answer came.
CHAPTER 40
In the dead of nightwatch he arrived at the wardroom. The subdued light of this hour glittered faintly off the scars on the door. The open wound in it yawned black.
Cleland laid down the equipment he bore and leaned close. Sounds of unrestful sleep, warmth, and odors of crowdedness rolled out at him.
“Wake up,” he called as low as could be heard. “Wake, but keep quiet. I’m here to help you.”
Stirrings and grumblings began to trouble the dark. “Quiet, quiet,” Cleland implored. He heard Nansen’s soft command, “Silence. Stay where you are.” The noise sank to little more than thick breathing.
The captain’s face appeared at the slot, etched across shadow. “Quiet,” Cleland whispered. Nansen nodded, expressionless.
The vigor that a stimulant forced spoke to him: “I — I’m going to cut you free. Brent’s armed. If he hears before you’re out, that’s it. I didn’t use the intercom because he may have a tap connected to an alarm in his cabin.”
“Good man!” Nansen gusted in the same undertone. He stuck a hand forth. Cleland took it, a hurried, awkward gesture. “I hoped you’d prove what you are.”
“No time. Stand back. Keep them quiet.”
Nansen retreated from view. Cleland scrambled into apron, gloves, helmet. He lifted the ion torch and took aim. A blade of flame hissed forth. Sparks flew. Metal glowed white. Cleland cut from the slot on the left side, almost to the deck. He brought the blaze diagonally to the right corner and guided it back downward.
Brent leaped into sight from the curve of the corridor. A pistol belt girdled his pajamas. The weapon was in his grip. “Hold!” he yelled.
Cleland cast a look at the gorgon face and kept his torch going.
The pistol barked. A slug whanged off a bulkhead and ricocheted along the passage. Brent sped nearer, slammed to a halt, slitted his eyes against the actinic glare, and took aim. “You Judas,” he rasped, “didn’t you think I’d rig a monitor?”
“Break out!” called Nansen from within.
Cleland swept the flame around at the other man. It didn’t reach, but, head-on, it dazzled. Brent fired, once, twice, thrice. Cleland staggered. He dropped the torch. It died. He toppled. Blood pumped from him.
Mass crashed against the door. Parted on three sides, weakened across the middle, struck with full force and high turning moment, metal buckled. A jagged tongue of it lapped outward. Nansen and Ruszek burst through the hole, Zeyd at their heels.