‘I’ll do my best. Remember, we’re still getting used to a lot of—’
A fist slammed down onto the comm-unit with the force of a sonic hammer, sending shards of metal and plastic raining down onto the metal floor. Avon leapt back in surprise.
Gan stood, his heavy frame swaying unsteadily from side to side. One arm was outstretched, hand still clenched into a meaty fist where the comm-unit had been. His other hand was clamped tightly to his head, eyes screwed closed and his teeth clenched against some terrible pain.
Avon backed away warily. ‘Gan, what is it?’
Gan’s breathing was fast and ragged. ‘Avon…’ he gasped. ‘Can’t…can’t…’
‘Can’t what?’
‘Limiter…can’t control…can’t control it…’
Gan’s limiter. The tiny chip of micro-circuitry that was wired directly into his brain, controlling and modifying any violent urges that might seize him. They all knew it was there, knew what Gan’s crime had been. Killing a Federation officer after his wife had been slaughtered. He’d been declared insane, a danger to those around him. To Avon, that wasn’t insanity on Gan’s part, it represented a certain logical reaction to the situation. Avon was no expert, but if you played around in the depths of a man’s mind, sooner or later he really would go insane.
Gan’s eyes snapped open. There was no hate reflected there, just sadness for what was coming. Avon tensed. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Gan.
Avon ducked as a huge fist whooshed through the air and slammed into the wall where his head had been a second before. A shallow dent appeared in the heavy metal of the bulkhead wall, and Avon didn’t intend being on the other end of Gan’s next blow. He dived athletically to one side, rolling and jumping nimbly to his feet.
Gan turned, snarling. The sadness was gone now, replaced by animalistic fury. Avon raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. ‘Gan, it’s me, Avon! Listen.’ Gan stopped, teeth bared. ‘You can control this. You are not a murderer. You are Olag Gan.’
It was working. Gan’s breathing became more regular, the muscles in his jaw relaxing.
‘I’m sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t know…’
The lights of the computer core failed, plunging them both into sudden darkness. Gan roared in confusion, the sickly green reflections from the various computer screens giving his features a demonic edge. His eyes found Avon again and, bellowing in rage, he dived forward. Avon threw himself out of the way, darting through the space between two control consoles.
Gan circled the consoles, Avon moving to match him, keeping his distance. Communication with Gan at this point seemed pointless—whatever external force was acting upon the Liberator’s systems was having the same affect on Gan’s limiter, causing this rush of violent mania. Avon’s only hope was to keep his distance and lead the lumbering brute away from the essential systems before any damage was caused.
Gan lunged through the darkness, hands grasping for Avon. He sidestepped, letting the larger man’s momentum drive him forward. Before Gan could turn, Avon slammed the edge of his hand into the back of Gan’s neck. Gan grunted and stumbled forward, momentarily stunned. Avon took his chance and charged towards the door that led out into the corridor. If he could get Gan to follow him out…
He pushed against the door, feeling a rush of panic as it wouldn’t budge. The locking mechanism was jammed. Frantically, he yanked open the control panel, dexterous fingers curling around the manual release. He gave his wrist a sharp twist and was rewarded by a satisfying click. But there was no time to celebrate. Strong hands grabbed at him from behind and Avon was pulled off his feet and hurled across the room. He landed with a crash on the central console, his head cracking against the edge of the unit, galaxies of light pinwheeling across his vision.
He heard Gan roar in triumph, but couldn’t focus, his head spinning. Gan was on him in seconds, hands closing like a vice around his neck. He gagged as he was pulled up and rammed against the wall, precious air slammed from his lungs. As Gan’s hands squeezed tighter, Avon tried desperately to break his murderous hold, grabbing his crazed friend’s elbows and forcing them down, but Gan was too strong. With Gan’s full weight against him, there was nothing Avon could do. His strength fading fast, Avon thrust his hands between Gan’s muscular arms, scrabbling for Gan’s face. If he could find his eyes, drive his thumbs into the sockets, Gan would have to let go. But he couldn’t feel his hands any more, he could hardly feel anything. The world was slipping away.
Avon heard a noise, a door opening, he couldn’t be sure where. A voice shouting out, calling Gan’s name. The fingers clamped tighter still for a second and then released. Gasping for breath, Avon slid down the wall as Gan whipped around to face his saviour.
Another shout. Concerned. Panicked.
Vila.
Avon’s eyes snapped open. Vila stood framed in silhouette in the doorway, haloed by emergency service lighting from the darkened corridor beyond. Gan swayed on his feet, confused by this new arrival, allowing Avon to crawl a few precious feet away. He didn’t have long. Gan snarled and lurched towards Vila. The thief turned and fled, but wasn’t quick enough. Gan caught him, snaking a bulging arm around Vila’s neck, lifting the smaller man off the floor, throttling him.
Still fighting for breath, Avon grabbed for his tools on the top of the control bank, locating a reassuringly heavy wrench. His blood rushing in his ears, Avon stumbled across the room, never taking his eyes off his target’s broad back.
‘Gan.’
Gan turned at his name, Vila still caught in the headlock, face purple and feet kicking at Gan’s shins.
With a grunt of effort, Avon brought up the wrench in a wide, sweeping arc. It smashed into Gan’s jaw, sending his head snapping back. He released Vila, who dropped to the floor like a stone, then staggered towards the corridor wall, throwing up an arm to steady himself.
Avon gripped the heavy tool with both hands and threw it back before bringing it down on the back of Gan’s exposed head. The giant pitched forward, crumpling into a heap and lying still.
The wrench clattered to the deck as Avon dropped to one knee and checked Gan’s pulse. Thank god, he was still alive, although who knew what damage Avon had just caused.
Behind him, Vila spluttered as he climbed to his feet, fingers probing at his bruised throat. ‘What the hell was that?’ he croaked. ‘He could have killed me.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Avon, standing. ‘It’s Gan’s limiter.’ He moved to examine the back of the man’s head, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to do more damage than he already had. ‘We need to sedate him. Get him to the primary surgical bay.’
He looked at Vila expectantly.
The thief’s face fell. ‘You don’t expect me to carry the big lug all the way there by myself?’
Avon wasn’t in the mood to argue. ‘You can wait until he wakes up for round two if you like.’
Vila sighed and rubbed his throat at the thought. ‘Are you going to give me a hand?’
Before Avon could answer, the ship heaved, its hull creaking ominously. Avon steadied himself against the bulkhead. ‘I’m afraid I have more pressing things to attend to.’