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cogently.
"No," he said firmly at last. "Give me the stunner."
Now shall trust be tested... . She dropped it down to him. "Three down and
seven to go. What's the best approach?"
"I can lure a couple more in here. The others are at the main entrance. We can
rush them from behind, if we're lucky."
"Go ahead."
Tafas opened the door. "It was a gas leak," he coughed convincingly. "Help me
drag these guys out and we'll seal the door."
"I could swear I heard a stunner go off a while ago," said his companion,
entering.
"Maybe they were trying to attract attention."
The mutineer's face flared with suspicion as the stupidity of this suggestion
sank in. "They didn't have stunners," he began.
Fortunately, the second man entered at this point. Cordelia and Tafas fired in
unison.
"Five down, five to go," Cordelia said, dropping to the floor. Her left leg
buckled; it wasn't moving quite right. "Odds are getting better all the time."
"It had better be quick, if it's going to work at all," warned Tafas.
"Suits me."
They slid out the door and ran lightly across the engineering bay, which
continued its automatic tasks, indifferent to its masters' identity. Some
black-uniformed bodies were piled carelessly to one side. Tafas held up his
hand for caution as they rounded the corner, jabbing a finger significantly.
Cordelia nodded. Tafas walked around the corner quietly, and Cordelia pinned
herself to its very edge, waiting. As Tafas raised his stunner she oozed
around, searching for a target. The chamber narrowed in this L, ending in the
main entrance to the deck above. Five men stood with their attention riveted
to the clanks and hisses penetrating dimly through a hatch at the top of some
metal stairs.
"They're getting ready to storm," said one. "It's time to let their air out."
Famous last words, she thought, and fired, once and twice. Tafas fired too,
rapidly fanning the group, and it was over. And I
will never, she pledged silently, call one of Stuben's stunts harebrained
again. She wanted to throw down her stunner and howl and roll in reaction, but
her own job was not finished.
"Tafas," she called. "I've got to do one more thing."
He came to her side, looking shaky himself.
"I've gotten you out of this, and I need a favor in return. How can I cut
control to the long-range plasma weapons so you can't get it back for an hour
and a half?"
"Why do you want to do that? Did the Captain order it?"
"No," she said honestly. "The Captain didn't order any of this, but he'll like
it when he sees it, don't you think?"
Tafas, confused, agreed. "If you short this panel," he suggested, "it should
slow things down quite a bit."
"Give me your plasma arc."
Need I? she wondered, looking over the section. Yes. He would fire on us, just
as surely as I'm cutting for home. Trust is one thing; treason another. I have
no wish to test him to destruction.
Now, if Tafas isn't fooling me by pointing out the controls to the toilets or
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something... She blasted the panel, and stared with a moment's primitive
fascination as it popped and sparked.
"Now," she said, handing the plasma arc back, "I want a couple of minutes head
start. Then you can open the door and be a hero. I suggest you call first and
warn them; Sergeant Bothari's in front."
"Right. Thanks."
She glanced up at the main entry hatch. About three meters away, he is now,
she thought. An uncrossable gulf. So in the physics of the heart, distance is
relative; it's time that's absolute. The seconds spun like spiders down her
spine.
She chewed her lip, eyes devouring Tafas. Last chance to leave a message for
Vorkosigan-no. The absurdity of transmitting the words, "I love you" through
Tafas's mouth shook her with painful inward laughter. "My compliments" sounded
rather swelled-
headed, under the circumstances: "my regards," too cold; as for the simplest
of all, "yes" ...
She shook her head silently and smiled at the puzzled soldier, then ran back
to the storeroom and scrambled back up the ladder. She beat a rhythmic tattoo
upon the hatch. In a moment it opened. She found herself nose to nose with a
plasma arc held by Yeoman Nilesa.
"I've got some new terms to carry back to your Captain," she said glibly.
"They're a little screwy, but I think he'll like them."
Nilesa, surprised, let her out and resealed the hatch. She walked away from
him, glancing down the main corridor as she passed. Several dozen men were
assembled in it. A technical team had half the panels off the walls; sparks
flared from a tool. She could just see Sergeant Bothari's head on the far side
of the crowd, and knew him to be standing next to Vorkosigan. She reached the
ladder at the end of the corridor, ascended it, and began to run, threading
her way level by level through the maze of the ship.
Laughing, crying, out of breath and shaking violently, she arrived at the
shuttle hatch corridor. Dr. McIntyre stood guard, trying to appear grim and
Barrayaran.
"Is everybody here?"
He nodded, looking at her with delight.
"Pile in, let's go."
They sealed the doors behind them and fell into their seats as the shuttle
pulled away at maximum acceleration with a crunch and a jerk. Pete Lightner
was piloting manually, for his Betan pilot's neurological implant would not
interface to the Barrayaran control system without an interpreter coupler, and
Cordelia braced herself for a terrifying ride.
She lay back in her seat, still gasping, lungs raw from her mad dash. Stuben
joined her, seething, and staring worriedly at her uncontrollable trembling.
"It's a crime what they did to Dubauer," he said. "I wish we could blow up
their whole damn ship. Is Radnov still covering us, do you know?"
"Their long-range weapons will be out for a while," she reported, not
volunteering details. Could she ever make him understand? "Oh. I meant to
ask-who was the Barrayaran hit by disruptor fire, planet-side?"
"I don't know. Doc Mac got his uniform. Hey, Mac-what's the name on your
pocket?"
"Uh, let me see if I can sound out their alphabet." His lips moved silently.
"Kou-Koudelka."
Cordelia bowed her head. "Was he killed?"
"He wasn't dead when we left, but he sure didn't look very healthy."
"What were you doing all that time aboard the General?" asked Stuben.
"Paying off a debt. Of honor."
"All right, be like that. I'll get the story later." He was silent, then added
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