“WHERE ARE WE going?” Ali’Maksam whispered as they hastened down the translucent corridor.
Ruskin didn’t answer at once. He was keeping a close watch for his enemy. He thought he’d seen someone behind them as they’d left the observers’ area; but it was hard, in this n-space architecture, to tell if a movement was just down the same corridor, or in some parallel branch. “Into the sun, is what I had in mind,” he said finally. “Deep into the sun.”
“That’s what I thought I sensed. I’d thought perhaps I was wrong.” The Logothian kept pace with him. “Still, it should be interesting.”
Ruskin nodded and kept up his stride. They were between the docking section and the observers’ area, a stretch that seemed to echo with emptiness. Most of the staff would be at their control stations now, with time-zero approaching. Although he and Max had already passed two entry points to the high-security zone, he’d shaken his head at both places. He wasn’t quite sure why; he knew that he needed to talk to Thalia, but something kept him from turning that way—perhaps fear of discovery. But that was ridiculous: if security was going to spot him on their monitors, they could do it as well here as anywhere in the station.
((Maybe not so ridiculous, Willard. You need your data files, don’t you, for what you’re planning?))
He nearly stumbled over his own feet. Of course—but there were only two places where he had access to his data. The control room, and . . . (I can retrieve the data from the ship, can’t I?) He didn’t know if the ship was a safe place to be right now, but if he could put the files he needed into a portable unit . . .
Max had paused at a corridor intersection. “The ship is this way,” Ruskin said, pointing left.
“The ship? Are we leaving the station at once, then?”
“No, but—” He cut himself off with an impatient gesture. There was no time to explain. Half a minute later, they were in the corridor outside the docking section, and Ruskin suddenly halted. “I don’t know if we’ll make it past the security desk. They’ll be watching the ship for sure. Even if they don’t recognize me, they might stop us because they don’t know me.” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “They have no reason to stop you, though. Can you go on board and load all of the Breakstar files into a portable unit?”
“I’m not sure that I would know precisely what to load.”
“Bring everything. Download the entire system memory. That would be simpler, anyway.” Ruskin pointed into a shadowy room off to one side. “I’ll wait over in that cargo area. Can you be fast?”
“I’ll try,” the Logothian promised. “Willard, take care that you are not seen.
“Right. Now go.” As Ali’Maksam strode toward the ship, Ruskin ducked into the storage area and crouched behind a stack of empty cargo pallets.
As he waited, he tried to think if there might be some way to get to Room Zeta, the deep-sun station, without first going to Thalia. It seemed unlikely. Even if there were an n-space passageway connecting Zeta with Breakstar station, what were his chances of locating it? It was hard enough to find his way where he was supposed to be. But if he went to Thalia, there would be a thousand questions—and so little time! (Any suggestions, Dax?)
((I think you can safely ask Thalia for help.))
(Are you crazy? Do you know what she’ll say?) And an instant later, he remembered. Dax was now in Thalia, as well, and could speak to her or influence her thoughts. Ruskin didn’t exactly approve, but it did put matters in a different light.
((I might point out that if I hadn’t gone into Thalia, she would quite likely be dead now—at your hands.))
He felt a hot rush of guilt.
((I wouldn’t have violated her privacy without good reason.))
(No, of course not!)
((Willard—oh, never mind. Your feelings, at this moment, don’t matter.))
Grunting silently, he hunkered down and sighted past the cargo pallets, watching for Max’s appearance. Or the Tandesko’s. He felt anxious and vulnerable; he felt like a fugitive. How would he fare in the face of another attack by the Tandesko? (Dax—can you heal me, if necessary? Better yet, can you help me defend myself? Can you restore my weapons to me?) He rubbed his index fingertip, where the tiny nub of the laser remained, though he presumed it was disabled.
Dax was slow in answering.
((Willard, it might require my unbinding some of the unfriendly NAGs. Do you want to risk that?))
He didn’t answer at once, but instead stared grimly out toward the corridor. He saw a shadow move into view, then away; but he couldn’t see its owner. A chill came over him, and he at last answered. (If you have to—yes.)
The wait stretched longer. If Max was in trouble, how would he know about it? He wondered if he had been foolish to put Max at risk. Perhaps he should go check, and the security desk be damned.
He rose, preparing to step out of cover—and the Logothian’s tall, white-suited profile appeared in the entrance to the cargo area. Ruskin hurried to join him. “Did you get it all?” Ali’Maksam nodded and handed him a small gray-cased data-unit. “Good work. Let’s go find Thalia.”
As they hurried through the corridors, again he had the feeling that someone was moving in silence, just out of sight, behind him. Probably his imagination. He didn’t pause to see if his imagination knew something he didn’t.
As they neared the control room, he remembered that he was still in disguise, and he asked Dax to restore his facial appearance. He felt the hot crinkling of skin, bones, and muscle altering. Just short of the control room, a squad of two security men and a mech stepped through a wall to cut them off. “Dr. Ruskin, come this way,” he was ordered. He didn’t argue; but he was relieved when they took him directly to the control center, where he was headed anyway, and to Thalia. She was at the command console, with Tamika. He tried to ignore all the eyes that shifted to stare as he approached.
“Willard!” That was Thalia’s hoarse cry; but Tamika got to him first, hugging him ferociously, then stepping back.
Ruskin gazed at them both with fierce affection: Tamika, trim and compact, in a gray tunic and pants, her golden cat eyes flashing with joy; and Thalia, tall and bony and awkward, eyes impossibly dark. Thalia had changed out of her torn clothing into a blazing red jumpsuit. Ruskin felt a rush of gratitude for their safety—and fear for the danger that he brought with him.
As the guards began to withdraw, he snapped a warning: “Stay close! There’s a Tandesko spy in the area. An illusionist. He may be passing as a noliHuman, or as something else. Expect him to be armed and dangerous.”
A ripple of alarm spread out among the consoles. “Tandesko?” Thalia asked. “In the secure area? Are you sure?”
Ruskin nodded and peered around, wondering if the assassin might not be in this room now. His gaze was drawn to the huge display screen. Betelgeuse blazed: scarlet-orange, enormous, seemingly eternal. That was all about to change. He glanced at the console display. The sun’s core was mostly iron now. The squeeze was tightening. Time to Stage Four initiation: fifty-seven minutes. “Thalia,” he said, his eyes still scanning, “I’ve got to get to Room Zeta right away.”
“Willard, we’ve been through all that. . . .” He glanced back at her as her voice faltered. Her eyes closed and reopened. “Why?” she whispered.
“Because I am a source of danger here. And because the Tandesko knows what we’re doing and intends to sabotage the gateway formation and the mapping.” He hesitated for an instant, acknowledging her astonishment. “If you transfer control to Zeta and isolate me there, I can keep the Tandesko from interfering.”
“But Willard, that’s—” Thalia broke off and pressed her forehead with her fingertips, shuddering, as though in pain. “How can we know?” she whispered. “We’ve seen no Tandesko here. We can’t just—”
“Who do you think tried to kill you?” he erupted, shouting, oblivious to the shocked expressions around him. He saw Tamika’s alarm and knew what she was thinking—that it was no Tandesko but Willard Ruskin who had tried to kill Thalia—but there was no time to explain. “Damn it, Thalia! Do you know who tried to kill you? Do you?”
“No—I didn’t see—”
“Well, I do! The Tandeskoes!” He seized her shoulders, shook her. “Thalia, they used me and now they’re trying to get rid of you because your essential work is done! There’s no time to argue! Tell me how to get to Zeta! I can safeguard the project, even if they attack here!”
Thalia swallowed. Her huge, dark, maroon eyes were filled with pain, with uncertainty. “Level four, A-twenty-four section,” she murmured at last. “The transport’s there.” She turned to the security leader. “Escort him—on my authority.”
“Good,” Ruskin said. “I’ll need Max with me.”
“And me!” Tamika cried.
Ruskin shook his head, feeling a sharp jab of pain. “You can’t help with this, Twig. I’m sorry.”
“I can—!”
“No!” Thalia snapped. At Tamika’s defiant glance, she shrugged. Her eyes were hard now. “That’s on my authority, too. They will probably not come back,” she added, as though speaking to no one in particular. Her voice was devoid of emotion.
Tamika’s eyes narrowed. She edged a fraction of an inch toward Ruskin; her hand reached out, then stopped. Her head barely moved as she nodded her acceptance.
Ruskin’s heart ached fiercely, but he could think of nothing to say. He turned—
—and saw someone climbing the steps toward the control center exit. A tall technician, with sloping shoulders.
His vision shimmered and the man’s true features became visible as Dax said simply,
((It’s him.))
“Stop that man!” Ruskin shouted, pointing.
Bewildered, the guards wouldn’t have had a chance if two men and a security robot hadn’t come in through the door at that moment. The new arrivals blocked the technician’s path as he reached the top of the steps.
The man—or thing—moved with astonishing speed. It leaped over the railing and away from the guards before even the robot could react. One man fell, clutching his throat. The thing spun as it landed and changed directions, darting toward the back of the room. It seemed almost to become invisible as it moved. Two of the guards fired their weapons—missing the Tandesko, but almost hitting several scientists, who scattered, diving to the floor.
Ruskin froze in a moment of indecision. Should he stay and fight, or try to lead the Tandesko away? Suddenly he was aware of Tamika and Thalia close to him. “Get down!” he snapped, pushing them toward the floor. And as he looked up again, he saw the Tandesko leaping over a row of consoles, flying directly toward him. He aimed his index finger. (NOW, DAX!)
((Not enough time . . .))
A sharp pain in his gut doubled him over. He hit the floor and rolled.
((Sorry! I had to get you down!))
He saw the killer leaping over him, and as it changed directions and doubled back, he made his move. From a crouch, he sprang straight up—and caught the Tandesko from beneath, flipping it sideways. He heard firing again, and shouts of pain and fear, and as he turned, two more people fell. He smelled something like almonds, and knew real terror then. A console near him was dissolving in a cloud of smoke.
((I can handle the cyanide, but he’s using NAGs to disassemble molecules. If we get hit with that, I don’t know . . .))
Ruskin turned and saw the Tandesko back up near the door. It was pointing at him—or at Thalia, on the floor—with a hand extended stiffly. Ruskin felt a burning pain in his right forefinger—
((Shoot, Willard!))
—and he pointed, and a lance of laser-light flared where it hit the Tandesko, and its hand seemed to explode. The killer froze for an instant, its eyes burning into Ruskin’s with some unreadable fury; but before Ruskin could aim again, the creature had spun again and darted—and was out the door and gone.
Ruskin gaped at the aftermath. At least two consoles were smoking, disintegrating even as he watched. Numerous people were on the floor, some hiding, some crawling to help the wounded, some dead. Many dead. Cyanide, he remembered dizzily. Probably microbursts of it, manufactured by NAGs on or in the assassin’s body. He prayed that the ventilators could clear it quickly. Tamika and Thalia were both rising shakily, and he trembled with gratitude at Dax’s presence in their bodies. “Max!” he called, in sudden dread.
For a moment he heard only the shouts of others—and voices of confusion in his own head, but not his friend. His eyes went to the display screen and the glowering sun. Stage Four initiation: thirty-nine minutes.
“I am here, Willard.” From beneath a console emerged the white-suited, visored Logothian. “I hid myself; I am sorry,” he whispered.
“Bless your heart, Max! Will you still come with me?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ali’Maksam answered.
Ruskin turned to the two women. He was not as calm as he had thought; his blood was running hot and feverish. What had Dax turned loose to give him the power to fight? “Thalia?”
She was enraged, snapping out orders to her security crew; she turned her head with a glare.
“Get him. Stop him,” he whispered. She nodded.
“Twig?” Tamika turned from gazing around in bewilderment. The terror was plain on her face. He could think of no words except her name. “Tamika—”
She swallowed, nodded.
Blinking, he picked up the gray-cased data-unit, turned to Max—and ran for the door, grabbing a security guard to lead the way.
* * *
Level four, A-24 section. Lots of flashing red lights in this area. An alarm was sounding monotonously, warning people to clear the area. “This section may be unstable during breakaway. . . .” a recorded voice droned.
“Reassuring,” Ruskin murmured. The guard shot him a reproachful glance; he did not look happy to be here, especially with an assassin possibly coming this way. He was probably wondering if he would be expected to go to Room Zeta with them. Ruskin impatiently waved him on.
The Zeta transport station was guarded by a robot security system. Their guard had to use an override code to get Ali’Maksam past the security barricade; Max’s “special observer” bracelet would not have gotten him through. After a brief drop-lift ride down, they came to one last obstacle, a dull gray, prison-type security screen. The guard passed his own bracelet across a reader, and the screen went down.
“Here you are,” he said, waving them into what looked like a small, empty tube-train station with walls of crystal. A metallic portal in one wall irised open, and they peered through into the interior of a small transport car. “The controls are marked,” the guard said. “Just press GO. If you change your mind, you can press STOP anytime up until you actually start moving. Then there’s no turning back until you get there. Good luck.” He looked at them hopefully.
“Thank you,” Ruskin said. “As soon as we’re off, you can head back.” The guard looked relieved. “Max, let’s go.” Ruskin followed the Logothian into the car, then peered out again. “Be on the lookout for anyone you don’t know,” he called to the guard.
He hit the GO switch.
Three things happened, almost simultaneously. The guard gasped and dropped to the floor. A blurry shape leaped through the portal into the car. The door irised closed.
“Look out, Max!” Ruskin screamed, diving across the car.
The transporter started moving.